by Debra Webb
Wariness crept into her watchful eyes at his hesitation. God, he hoped she couldn’t read him that well. “All right then,” she said. “What can I do for you, Chief Summers?”
Chief, not Rick. So that was the way it would be. He almost laughed out loud at his own stupidity for hoping it would be otherwise. Hell, it had always been that way. She waited, perfectly still, her spine rigid, the wall of windows and expensive draperies an elegant backdrop to the sensual picture she made. The filmy white fabric looked stark against her olive skin, displaying a great deal more than it concealed.
“Is this about the investigation?”
He noted the movement of her lips as she spoke. They were full, ripe with color without the aid of cosmetics. He wanted to taste them, to see if the woman was as hot and sweet as the girl had been. Rick licked his lips. “Yeah,” he finally managed to grind out. “I want to run a couple of possibilities past you. Get your take on the scenarios.”
She was nervous now. He could see it in her eyes, her posture. “I’m listening.”
Rick surveyed the room, right then left, taking his time so that her tension would escalate. How often had he imagined how her home looked on the inside? Hell, he’d driven by every single day until she moved away. “Nice place.”
“Thank you.” She tunneled the fingers of her right hand through her hair, pushing the silky stuff away from the face that still haunted his dreams.
Drawing out the wait, he moved to the mantel and studied the photographs of the girl he’d known back in high school. Being an only child, there were plenty to look at. He tried to remember a time when he hadn’t been crazy about Lacy, but as far back as he could recall he had been.
But she hadn’t noticed…except that once.
“You and your friends were visiting when Charles disappeared,” he asked, his voice sounding too harsh after the long moments of silence.
Lacy ordered her heart to slow. She had to stay calm. “You already know the answer to that—you came by the hospital when we were with Melinda.” That’s right, she told herself, think rationally. Don’t let him trick you into saying anything you’ll regret. “You know we’re always there for each other. Not one of us has ever let the others down.”
He shifted from his intent study of the barrage of family photographs, and his penetrating gray gaze collided with hers. “He beat her pretty badly, didn’t he?”
Panic broadsided Lacy. She clenched her jaw to hold back the shudder that followed. “What are you talking about? It was an accident. Melinda fell down the stairs.” That was the story Melinda had told. She’d always covered up her husband’s abuse. Just another aspect of the past that haunted Lacy.
Rick moved toward her, one step, then another. “We both know that’s not the way it happened. He’s dead, why pretend now? I can just imagine how angry it made you—all of you—to find out he’d hurt her that way. Who knows how many other times she’d suffered at his hand.”
Lacy shook her head and held his regard, as difficult as that proved. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
An insanely sexy half smile tilted his full mouth. Dammit, she didn’t want to notice that. Another step disappeared between then. Lacy stiffened in an effort to lock down her responses, but her defenses were no match for the chemistry still volatile between them.
“You can’t fool me, Lacy. Charles Ashland, Junior, was a bastard. Admit it.”
He was too close, and coming closer. “Melinda loved him,” Lacy insisted in a firm voice. A tremble vibrated through her, threatening her shaky bravado. “He was a good father.”
“But he was a lousy husband.”
Rick stood toe to toe with her now, his broad chest close enough to lay her cheek there. Lacy lifted her head and unwanted heat roared through her. “I wouldn’t know,” she said, her voice cracking. “I wasn’t married to him.”
Another wicked tilt of his lips. “You won’t win, Lace. I’m not that easygoing good old boy I used to be. I’ve got your number. You and your friends are in this up to your pretty necks. Tell me what you know and I’ll find a way to protect you.”
Fury swept through her, banishing her fear. Lacy crossed her arms over her chest and glared back at him. Protect her. What about the others? “Go to hell, Rick.”
“Now, now, there’s no need to get nasty.” He massaged his beard-darkened chin, the sound rasping over her nerve endings, making her shiver with new awareness despite the anger rising inside her.
“I’m only giving you the opportunity to come clean with me. What are you so afraid of? Charles is dead—he sure as hell can’t hurt you. In my opinion he got what he deserved.”
Something snapped inside Lacy then. “You’re right,” she said, her voice too calm, and so low that she barely recognized it as her own. “He’s dead. And I’m glad he’s dead. I only wish he’d died sooner.” A new surge of fury streaked through her. For the first time in ten years, she felt liberated. “Is that what you wanted to hear, Chief?”
The scant inch of space between them sizzled with heat and visceral desire. Lacy refused to visibly acknowledge it. Instead she stared directly at him, her own eyes purposely void of the emotions whirling inside her. Let him take his best shot. She was tired, physically and mentally. She’d had enough.
He looked away first. “Dammit, Lacy, you can’t go around telling people you wanted him to die.” He swore again then glowered at her, his expression dark with anger and something else she couldn’t readily identify. “That single statement is motive.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” she pressed. “Didn’t you come here tonight to finagle a confession from me?”
He plowed a hand through his short dark hair. “Hell no.” A muscle started to tic in his square jaw. “I came here to get you to come clean with me about what you know. You’re hiding something from me, Lacy, I know it. The four of you have a secret, and I’m damned well going to find out what it is and how it plays into Ashland’s murder.”
He was angry now, almost as angry as she was. “We all signed statements ten years ago as to our whereabouts that day. Check your records, I’m sure you’ll find them.” She spun away. This conversation was over. “It’s late. You should—”
Long fingers curled around her arm and swung her back to face him before she took her second step. His expression was savage, intimidating. A new kind of fear shimmered through her. “I will get the answers I need, Lacy, one way or another.” He yanked her a few inches nearer, his full mouth close. “I won’t stop until I do.”
“Is that a threat?” Hard as she tried not to, she trembled.
He released her abruptly, but that fierce gaze held her a moment longer. “It’s a promise.”
Without looking back, Rick stormed out. She heard the front door close behind him. Lacy brought one shaky hand to her mouth and choked back the sob that swelled in her throat. Oh, God. She had to call Cassidy. He might not have any evidence, but his instincts had hit right on the money. Forcing herself to breathe, breathe deeply, Lacy made her way to the telephone. Before she could pick up the receiver, it rang. She frowned. Her parents? Cassidy?
Fear snaking around her chest once more, she snatched up the receiver. “Hello.” She had to calm down. She closed her eyes and cursed her loss of control.
“Lacy Jane Oliver?”
The slow, barely audible whisper tightened the strong hold of fear clutching at her, paralyzing her. Lacy opened her eyes, then blinked. Her mind raced to identify the strangely terrifying voice, but it was no use. She didn’t recognize it. Couldn’t even tell if it was male or female. “Yes,” she breathed the simple response.
“You should be very, very afraid.”
Adrenaline fired through her veins. “Who is this?”
“I know your secret.”
Chapter 4
Lacy waited at Mama Betty’s for the others to arrive. She’d selected a table far from the breakfast crowd. She sipped her coffee, scrolled through her PDA, anything to prev
ent looking as nervous as she felt. It had taken every ounce of courage she possessed not to call Cassidy last night. The call had come in after midnight, almost immediately after Rick had left. With Cassidy having spent the night at Melinda’s, calling her would have meant alerting Melinda to the situation. Melinda needed her rest more than any of them.
A hollow feeling dragged at Lacy’s stomach.
Rick was on to the fact that they were hiding something—so was someone else obviously. How could anyone know their secret?
It was impossible!
Forcing herself to smile when her attention accidentally landed on an arriving patron she didn’t quite recognize but who, apparently, remembered her, Lacy reminded herself to breathe and downed another swallow of her third cup of strong, black coffee. She’d had two at home before coming here. She was wired to the max.
The bell over the door jingled again and, thank God, this time it was Cassidy, with Melinda right behind her. Dread welled inside Lacy all over again. She hated so badly to even bring up Rick’s visit and the bizarre call, but what choice did she have? Her nerves jangled as involuntarily as the bell over the door when someone shoved it inward. What if the caller really did know what they’d done? And what if Rick persisted in his assertions?
How much time would it take before his instincts drove him to dig deeper, to push harder? To find something…maybe even a witness who had seen them leaving Charles’s house at dark on Christmas Eve ten years ago.
Lacy tried to swallow around the muscles contracting in her throat. More important, how much longer could she hold out? Pretending what they’d done was justified? If she failed all their lives would be destroyed and it would be her fault for not being strong enough.
Cassidy slid into a chair directly across from Lacy without a word, but her expression said it all. What’s happened now? And why the hell do you look so guilty?
“You didn’t sleep last night, did you?” Melinda asked, settling into the seat next to Cassidy and breaking the awkward tension.
Lacy resurrected the smile that kept dying too quickly each time she rammed it into place. “I slept okay. How about you?” Her friend looked as if she hadn’t eaten or slept for a week. The dark circles beneath her eyes gave them an even more sunken appearance. Her face looked as white as a sheet, the skin thin and fragile. This had to be tearing her apart inside—the not knowing, the wondering if someone would figure out the truth and take her kids away from her permanently.
Or if someone, like her best friend, would fall apart and ruin all their lives?
Melinda lifted then dropped her shoulders in confusion or maybe indecision, as if the answer to Lacy’s question took all her energy and left her slumped with defeat. “I drifted off once or twice.” She managed a faint smile. “But I’m okay,” she added softly.
“What’s going on, Lacy?” There was nothing soft or reassuring about Cassidy’s tone. She wanted to cut straight to the chase.
Though Melinda and Lacy had always been the closest of the four, Cassidy read each of them better than anyone else. Her ability to see through bullshit was almost uncanny. And she didn’t like beating around the bush.
Another jingle drew Lacy’s gaze back to the diner’s entrance. “Here comes Kira. Let’s wait for her.” She didn’t know why she put off the inevitable. But she’d take any excuse to gain another few seconds to steel for the reactions of the others.
Cassidy didn’t like to be kept waiting any more than Lacy liked being the cause of the irritation motivating her icy countenance just now, but there was no help for it. Kira, looking annoyed as she came inside, appeared to be attempting to end a cell-phone conversation. Finally she drew the cell phone from her ear, fiercely punched the end-call button and shoved the phone back into her bag.
“Looks like Brian made his hourly call,” Cassidy commented drily. “The guy torments her with his constant checkup calls.” Cass turned back to the table. “I don’t see how she puts up with him. He’s a stalker waiting to happen.”
“Are we having breakfast or has something happened?” Kira wanted to know as she took the only other vacant seat at the table for four. Any irritation with her boyfriend had been erased from her expression. “You sounded worried when you called,” she said to Lacy.
Cassidy looked pointedly at her. “Maybe now we’ll find out the reason.”
Guilt pinged Lacy but she’d be damned if she would let it show. As much as she loved Cassidy she was treading on Lacy’s last nerve and this whole thing had scarcely begun. They could be stuck in purgatory for weeks. Maybe the others were dealing with it better than her…except for Melinda, of course, but something had to give. She couldn’t take the pressure. It didn’t matter that she dealt with enormous stress every day on the job…this was different.
“I was afraid to talk about it on the phone,” she began quietly. Take it slow, she reminded herself. “If we’re suspects, they could be listening in on our phone calls.” Being seen together in public wasn’t a problem. They’d grown up here, people expected them to come together in support of each during a crisis.
Both Kira’s and Melinda’s eyes widened with renewed concern.
“Jesus, Lace,” Cassidy huffed with a roll of her eyes, “you’ve been watching too many crime dramas.” She looked from one worried woman to the next. “Tapping a phone line takes a court order. A court order takes justification and time.” She shook her head slowly side to side. “Our friendly chief of police hasn’t had either. No judge in his right mind is going to allow such an invasion of privacy without evidence. Besides, we just got here yesterday. We really don’t have to worry about anything of that nature just yet.”
Lacy felt her tension ease marginally. She’d been so damned worried and keyed up all night, she’d tossed and turned, barely managing a wink of sleep. The image of Rick Summers rushed into her thoughts and she pushed him away. He wasn’t the primary reason she hadn’t slept last night. It was the call.
“So what happened, Lacy?” Cassidy prompted. “What’s got you so uptight this morning?”
Lacy clasped her hands in her lap, thankful for the cover of the table so no one would see the nervous gesture. “Rick Summers came to see me last night.” This got the whole table’s undivided attention. She should get this part out of the way first. “He outright accused us of keeping something secret related to Charles’s murder.”
Melinda gasped and Cassidy draped her arm around her shoulders in a comforting gesture.
“Take it slow,” Cassidy said to Lacy, “and tell me exactly what he said.”
“Would you ladies like coffee?”
As if too afraid to make their own decisions, Melinda and Kira looked to Cassidy. “Black,” she said. “And one of those doughnuts.” Cassidy jerked her head toward the covered dish on the counter.
“Same here,” Kira said, following suit, her smile appearing almost genuine.
“Just coffee,” Melinda said, “with cream.”
The waitress left and Lacy gave Cassidy the details she remembered with far too much clarity. “Rick suggested that Charles had hurt Melinda, that he’d possibly hurt her many times. He didn’t come right out and say it, but I think he believes we’re involved in what happened to Charles.”
There was dead silence from the three women seated around Lacy as she went on. “He warned that he wouldn’t quit until he knew the truth. He is certain we’re hiding something. He tried to strong-arm me into coming clean, as he put it.” Lacy shook her head. “He even promised to protect us if we told him the truth.”
Lacy had expected the fear and the worry she saw on the faces of her friends, but what she hadn’t expected was the accusation she saw in Cassidy’s eyes.
“Why did he come to you?”
The question took Lacy aback. No one, not even Melinda, knew about the night she and Rick had shared…or the attraction she’d felt for him back in high school. That she still felt something made her furious, especially considering the current circumstance
s, but some part of her understood intrinsically that she could not share that snippet of her past with her friends. And that felt even more wrong. They’d always shared everything…even murder. But Rick was the enemy now.
Before she could stop herself, Lacy looked away. Perfect. How much guiltier could she act?
“I don’t know.” She forced herself to reconnect with Cassidy, whose suspicion seemed to mount. “Maybe because Mel and I were always so close. I guess he thought I would know her deepest, darkest secrets. Or maybe he thinks I killed Charles to save her. Whatever the reason,” she said bluntly, allowing her annoyance to show, “he intends to find out what we’re hiding. He made that point very clear.”
“First of all,” Cassidy explained, her expression relaxing, going from suspicious to knowing, “he has his first murder case and absolutely no evidence. Summers is like any other cop, he doesn’t want to look bad to those who keep him in office. He needs a suspect. Melinda is the logical choice since she’s the spouse. He’s going to follow that line of reasoning until he has something better to consider. Let’s face it, in cases like this, more often than not the spouse is the perpetrator.”
Cassidy made the whole thing sound so simple, so logical. But her deduction didn’t appear to make Melinda feel any better. She stared at the table, as if meeting the eyes of her friends was suddenly too difficult.
Before Lacy could say something to smooth over Cassidy’s insensitive remark about spouses and perpetrators, the waitress arrived with their coffee.
“Thank you, that’s all,” Cassidy said, dismissing the waitress before turning her attention back to the table. “We’re Melinda’s best friends, so, of course, we’re suspects as well.” She made a scoffing sound in her throat. “Well, the closest thing to suspects he’s got right now. You have to realize that he’s desperate to solve this as quickly as possible. All persons of interest are going to be under close scrutiny. He’ll apply pressure wherever he thinks he can.”
Cassidy continued in that vein, but Lacy’s attention was diverted by the man who entered the diner next—Brad Brewer, one of Rick’s deputies, judging by his uniform. He climbed onto a stool at the bar, placed his order, then promptly settled his full regard on their table. She looked away too quickly. She cursed herself for letting the whole world see how guilty she felt. Why hadn’t she smiled at him? She remembered him from high school. Football. Handsome, popular with the girls. But now he was a cop and that made him a potential enemy. It also made her as nervous as hell.
