Heading back toward the far corner where he was buried, Allie frowned at the sight of the yellow crime scene tape stirring in the evening breeze. Will said the department had gathered all the evidence they needed, but she guessed they’d left the tape up as a deterrent. Curiosity often drove people to do weird and unpredictable things.
Allie glanced down at the bright, cheerful spring flowers she held in her hand. She’d cut them from The Dust Jacket’s garden, intending to give them to the play’s cast, but at the last moment had gathered a bunch for Cousin Eugene as well. It seemed appropriate. A sort of apology for… snogging, as Mason would say, on his grave.
Walking cautiously, she wound around the maze of drunkenly tilted, eroding headstones. She could lay the tribute outside the tape, she guessed.
Allie eyed the gravesite, visible now in the fading daylight, and sighed a little at its appearance. The headstone was lichen-covered marble, and had probably been quite lovely at one time, taking the shape of a tree trunk with a scroll nailed to it. The words etched into the scroll had faded, but Eugene’s name and his dates of birth and of death were still faintly visible.
The ground surrounding the headstone was a mess. A significant quantity of dirt had been displaced, piled to the side, and numerous shoeprints marred the freshly turned over soil. Allie frowned at the pile of soil. It was entirely too large to suggest a single rootworker borrowing some for their spiritual practice. Was Will right? Had someone intended to sell it?
But then how were they planning to get it out of here?
The events of that night had been chaotic and confusing, but she was pretty sure she hadn’t seen a wheelbarrow. She would ask Will, but knew that would put him in a position of talking about an ongoing investigation, which was something she tried to avoid. Will took his oath of office very seriously, especially since he’d discovered that the previous Chief – a man of which he’d thought highly – had likely been engaged in corruption. Will never said, but she suspected that it was a conversation Will’d had with the man as much as a severe heart attack that had pushed him into retirement. Now Will, in typical Will fashion, was trying to make up for what he saw as a blight on the honor of his position by being even more conscientious than he had been. It was admirable, but didn’t help satisfy Allie’s curiosity. However, there were worse things in life than being stymied.
“Allie?”
She jumped a full foot in the air, dropping the flowers in the process. Or it felt like a foot, at least. Hand to her heart, Allie whirled around, mouth falling open as she spotted Wesley.
“Sorry.” Her former fiancé stuck his hands in the pockets of his pants, pushing his suit jacket back. It was a move he made whenever he felt cornered, or sheepish. From the look on his face, she guessed that sheepish was the current motivation. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Heart pounding, Allie took a deep breath before she spoke. He’d frightened the dickens out of her, to be honest. “It’s alright.” And while her initial instinct was to dismiss her reaction as silly, to make things comfortable for him, she reminded herself that she was no longer that person. Being polite didn’t mean you had to be a doormat. Her feelings and thoughts were just as valuable as his. “Although next time you sneak up on someone in an abandoned cemetery at dusk, particularly one that’s recently experienced some suspicious activity, you might want to consider that reaction. It’s fortunate I wasn’t armed.”
His light brown brows shot up. “Armed? You?”
“I have a gun,” she informed him coolly. “And I know how to use it.”
A smile lifted the corners of his lips. “Do you now? I’ll consider myself warned, and be sure to conduct myself accordingly in the future.”
Because the word future in conjunction with Wesley left a sour taste in her mouth, Allie pursed her lips. “What are you doing here, Wesley?”
Displeasure flashed in his espresso-dark eyes, but was quickly masked. “I saw your car parked outside the gates as I was going past.”
Apparently her car was a real liability when it came to disclosing her whereabouts. “And you felt compelled to stop because…”
“Because I wanted to see you.” This time he didn’t bother to mask his displeasure. “I know things haven’t been… comfortable between us lately, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care. I heard that you’d been involved in some sort of incident here several nights ago, and I simply wanted to make sure you were okay. This newfound suspicion of yours isn’t becoming.” Then he sighed. “And I regret any part I might have played in making you less than trusting.”
Allie started to tell him exactly what he could do with his apology, but she considered that he had a point. She was far more suspicious of other people and their motives than she had once been. And while not being naïve was a desirable character trait, continually assuming the worst about people probably wasn’t the best way to be. To be truly strong, one had to be willing to be open, at least a little. Skepticism was healthy, but cynicism just made you bitter. Allie didn’t want to be a bitter, disdainful person. That was entirely too much like her mother.
“You’re forgiven,” she told Wesley.
“For startling you?” He pushed up his glasses in a gesture that she’d always found endearing. “Or for the rest?”
“Well, let’s not get crazy,” she said, and found herself reluctantly smiling in response to his laugh.
His gaze shifted to the grave behind her. “Teenagers,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with them these days.”
Reminded of the purpose of her visit, Allie scooped up the flowers from the ground near her feet, arranging them more artfully as close to the grave as she could manage. “As much as they’re everyone’s favorite scapegoat, I don’t know that teenagers are to blame in this case.”
Wesley looked at her in surprise. “Really? Does Will have evidence that suggests otherwise?”
“I don’t know what kind of evidence Will has,” she said, brushing her hands together as she stood. “And wouldn’t talk about it if I did.”
“Of course,” Wesley said, his tone contrite. “And as an attorney, I commend you for your discretion.”
The wind blew Allie’s hair, and she pushed it out of her eyes as she looked at him. The setting sun caught his glasses and created a glare, making her realize how late it was getting. The fact that she considered talking to Wesley preferable to going to the theater was the motivation she needed to get over herself. She could handle watching Mason onstage. She was looking forward to it, in fact.
“I better get going,” she said. “I have to get to The Playhouse.”
“Opening night.” Wesley nodded. “I’ll see you there.”
“You’re going?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said, and Allie wondered why that struck her as vaguely ominous.
“May I walk you out?” He offered his arm.
Allie hesitated, but saw no way out of it without looking petty. “Okay.”
But when he placed his hand over hers, Allie had to resist the urge to jerk hers back.
“YOU know,” Sarah said as she leaned against Tucker’s heavy shoulder. His arm came around her automatically, pulling her closer to his side. “I thought that I wouldn’t be able to take my eyes off Mason tonight. That he would sort of… upstage everyone, I guess. But if I’m being honest, I think it was Bran that stole the show.”
“Part of being a good actor is knowing the difference between a supporting role and a lead.”
She considered that a moment. “I guess you’re right.”
“Of course I am.”
Sarah socked the shoulder against which she’d so recently cuddled.
“Hey.” He rubbed the spot, then reached for his drink. “I’d hate to have you dragged out of the bar for spousal abuse.”
“We’re not married yet,” she reminded him in an ominous tone.
“You’re wearing my ring.” He picked up her hand, kissed it just behind the spa
rkling emerald. “And besides, what would the kids say if I came home with bruises? You have to consider the example you’re setting, Red.”
“They’re animals,” she reminded him. “As long as we feed them, they wouldn’t care if we swung from the chandeliers. And as I was saying, you’re right about Mason. If anything, he probably underplayed his part for the exact reason that he didn’t want to steal any limelight. Not that he wasn’t just super – because he was. The whole play was very well done. And speaking of Mason…” she looked around the crowded bar, a new place called Stage Left that had opened up next to the theater. “Where is he? The drink he ordered is getting warm.”
“I can fix that.” Tucker sat his own empty pilsner aside and commandeered Mason’s.
“Very helpful.”
He shrugged. “I try.”
Leaning to the side, Sarah peered around the small cluster of patrons who had gathered in front of the table, obscuring her view. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen Allie for a while, either. And Allie had been acting very squirrelly when she’d shown up at the theater.
Late.
Sarah wanted to know exactly what that was all about, but she hadn’t had a chance to talk to Allie during the performance. And now she seemed to have disappeared.
Something was going on, and Sarah was determined to get to the bottom of it.
Panning her gaze around, Sarah finally spotted her friend near the alcove that led to the restrooms. She was talking to Wesley Norbert. The little snake was smiling down at her, leaning in close. His hand came up to gently stroke her arm.
“Oh hell no,” she said aloud.
“What?”
She turned to look at Tucker. “Allie’s talking to Wesley Norbert.”
His gray eyes showed indifference. “So?”
“So? It’s Wesley Norbert.” She restrained herself from socking him again. “Her ex-fiancé?”
“I repeat: so?”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “So, we hate him. Imagine a big, fat snake curled in the corner with Allie. Would you still be blasé?”
“I don’t know. Are we pretending that Allie’s a mouse?”
Giving him up as a lost cause, Sarah returned her attention to the corner. Allie definitely looked uncomfortable. As Sarah watched, Allie tried to sidestep Wesley and his wandering hands, but he blocked her path. His expression had gone from flirtatious to cajoling. Allie shook her head. Frustration twisted Wesley’s features, but he tried cajoling again.
Allie, looking mutinous, said something that Wesley obviously didn’t like. She started to move past him.
This time he grabbed her arm. And not in a lover-like fashion.
“Oh, crap.”
“What?”
“The snake is trying to constrict the mouse.”
His expression darkening, Tucker sat down his beer and started to rise. One thing he wouldn’t stand for was a woman being pushed around.
Before Tucker could move, Sarah spotted Mason shoving his way through the crowd.
“Um, Tucker. You better get over there before Mason does.”
He followed her line of vision. “Aw, hell.”
“Too late.”
Mason, who’d moved aside any obstacle in his way with the expediency of Moses parting the Red Sea, was now in Wesley Norbert’s face, and Allie was trying to push between them.
“That’s the last person he wants to pick a fight with,” she said, following as he too waded into the noisy crowd. “I don’t know if you know this, but Wesley’s a –”
“Shit.”
“– personal injury attorney,” she finished, after bumping into Tucker’s back. The crowd went “Oh!” and “Ouch!” as Wesley went down.
“So much for not stealing the limelight,” Tucker said grimly.
Sarah sighed, and went to help clean up the mess.
“YOU had to do it, didn’t you?”
Will Hawbaker shook his head at Mason. Mason looked blandly back at him from behind bars.
“Wesley Norbert, the biggest litigation-happy lawyer in the entire state of South Carolina, and you had to punch him in the face.”
“He was bothering Allison.”
“And you escalated the situation.”
“Escalated the situation? He grabbed her and yanked her around. All I did was trip and fall down with her, and you punched me.”
“Would you like to press charges?”
“No, I would not like to press charges.” He let his throbbing head fall back against the cinderblock wall. “I would like to be released from this sodding cell.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen until you’re arraigned, which I’ll try to get pushed through first thing tomorrow. Just FYI, assaulting a lawyer in a public place, in front of witnesses, probably wasn’t the best idea. Norbert would have liked to tag you for drunk and disorderly, too, but since you passed the sobriety test I can only gather that your lack of judgment wasn’t fueled by alcohol.”
When Mason remained silent, Hawbaker stuffed his hands into his pockets and sighed. “You know,” he said, tall and dark and weary. “I had a date tonight. The play, a late dinner, hopefully a little stress-relieving activity afterward. And just as I’m about to make my move, I get a frantic call from my baby sister, who’s been caught in a bar fight between her litigious stiff of an ex and the British playboy whose signature move is rolling around with her on family graves. It’s like I was cockblocked by Jerry Springer.”
“I am not a playboy.” Mason’s tone was stiff. “And I’m not going to apologize for messing up your plans. In case you failed to hear me previously, he g-grabbed her.”
Horrified by the stammer, Mason crossed his arms over his chest.
Hawbaker studied him for a long moment. “I know,” he agreed, his tone a lot less confrontational. “There are witnesses. Technically, Norbert could find himself staring at his own battery charge if Allie wanted to press one against him.”
“Does she?” Mason couldn’t stop himself from asking. “Want to press charges?”
Hawbaker hesitated. “Not at this time.”
Mason detected a note of frustration in the other man’s tone, though it failed to mollify him. He guessed he couldn’t be upset with Allison for not wanting to create more tension between herself and her ex-fiancé, but…
Actually, yes. Yes, he could. The man was an arsehole and, from what Mason had observed, a bully. And yet he was the one sitting in jail.
“Did it feel good?” Hawbaker interrupted his inner monologue. “Punching Norbert,” he clarified when Mason looked up.
Mason examined the swollen, scraped knuckles of his right hand. “Bloody fantastic, actually.”
Hawbaker nodded. “Just between you and me, I’ve wanted to deck the little weasel since he broke it off with Allie. I envy you.”
Setting aside the frustration over his own situation, Mason leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees. “I don’t know the content of their disagreement,” he said, “as I wasn’t close enough to overhear. But I did see the look on Norbert’s face.” He glanced up at Will. “The man was trying, quite obviously, to win Allison’s favor, or agreement on some matter. And when he couldn’t, he was angry. Deeply angry. I hope…” Mason looked at his knuckles again, then clenched his fist. “I hope that you will make sure he doesn’t attempt to come near her again. I don’t trust him.”
“Join the club. I’ll deal with him,” he said, and there was such certainty in his voice that Mason relaxed for the first time since he’d been taken away from the bar in the back of the police cruiser. When he’d seen the angry way the man had laid hands on her, it had roused a protectiveness that was as fierce as it was foreign.
“I’d feel better if she wasn’t alone tonight.”
Hawbaker snorted. “Alone is a commodity in short supply at our house. Don’t worry. Norbert may be an idiot, but he’s not a fool. He’s not going to bother her.” The man pushed away from the wall and shook his head. “You know, this was
a fairly sleepy little town before you blew back into it.”
“Well, cheers then.” Mason settled back on the uncomfortable bunk and stared at the ceiling, knowing he wouldn’t sleep a wink. “I’m delighted to have livened the place up.”
WILL rolled up the sleeves of his shirt as he headed toward his office. Aside from the pissed off British thespian in their holding cell, the station was pretty quiet tonight. He nodded toward the front desk clerk, who’d been trying, with varying degrees of success, to act indifferent to Armitage’s presence down the hall. The woman’s eyes had gone round as saucers when they’d brought the man in, and if she hadn’t feared for her job he suspected she’d be posting a stream of updates on social media. It wasn’t often that the citizens of Sweetwater saw celebrities – even minor ones – in their midst, and the temptation to be the first with information about a breaking scandal was great. Luckily, the patrons at Stage Left seemed to have been so surprised and enthralled by the spectacle of Wesley Norbert’s nose spurting blood all over the floor that he didn’t think too many photos of Mason in handcuffs had found their way to Instagram. Will wouldn’t have even considered it – or considered it a problem – if Allie hadn’t expressed concern.
It seemed to Will that the occasional arrest and barroom brawl did little to negatively impact the careers of most actors, but he’d made sure his people took Mason out through the back of the bar all the same. No need to attract more attention than they had to.
Will flicked on his office light, closing the door behind him. Since his date had been interrupted – again – and hell, since he was here, he might as well be productive. He booted up his computer, sipped at the cup of coffee he’d poured before going back to talk to Armitage, and leaned back in his chair.
Will yawned.
Admit One (Sweetwater Book 2) Page 7
