Admit One (Sweetwater Book 2)

by Clark O'Neill, Lisa

  As did thinking of Alan. She hoped that his interest in her wasn’t going to cause a problem. She felt very awkward about it, given the fact that he worked with Will. She didn’t want to inadvertently create an uncomfortable professional environment for either of them.

  He’d taken her rejection well enough, though. And he’d been nothing but considerate of her since the time she bumped into him in the alley. He’d been there with Mason and Bran when they’d found her in the cemetery, he’d visited her in the ER and again at home while she was recuperating from her concussion. He’d been very thorough in leading the investigation into her assault. And he’d seemed genuinely upset tonight when she’d sort of frozen up upon seeing the daisy. It had indeed brought back bad memories, both of receiving the bouquet and of being trapped in that mausoleum.

  Allie shuddered. At least, as he said, it hadn’t been baby’s breath. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to look at the stuff again without a negative connotation.

  Shaking off her maudlin thoughts, Allie slung the purse over her shoulder and headed toward the cottage. Music drifted from the bar down the street, suggesting that one of their love bands had taken advantage of the beautiful evening and set up on the patio. She walked in time with the beat at first, but something in the back of her mind caused her steps to slow.

  How, she wondered, did Alan know about the baby’s breath? She’d taken it out of the bouquet and thrown it away before taking the flowers to the cemetery, because the symbolism had been such a deliberate and painful slap in the face.

  He knew that she’d delivered flowers to Eugene’s grave, and obviously, being in charge of the investigation, he’d seen the daisies and therefore would understand why they would bring back bad memories.

  From her assault, anyway.

  But unless Will told him about the rest of it, he wouldn’t have known about the baby’s breath. Or the reason that the baby’s breath had been especially hurtful.

  Her brows drew together.

  She’d have to talk to Will. She understood that all sorts of private things often came to light when you were the subject of a police investigation, but it seemed especially uncomfortable that he’d revealed that sort of information to Alan. In fact, knowing her brother, she was surprised he hadn’t turned that aspect of the investigation over to a female officer – or at least to one who wasn’t interested in Allie on a personal level. Or, for that matter, simply handled it himself. She was sure he had a good reason, but…

  But it still seemed strange.

  The more she thought about it, the more unsettled she felt. Maybe she would –

  Hearing a noise behind her, Allie whirled around.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  WILL leaned back in his desk chair, absently twirling a pencil through his fingers. Victoria, as he well knew, was a skilled liar. But he thought that she’d told the truth – or mostly the truth, anyway – during their interview. She hadn’t hesitated to tell him all about her affair with Tobias Abernathy. Had offered a forthright and believable excuse for how she’d known about Allie’s miscarriage. Knew she was busted for, if nothing else, driving while intoxicated.

  But she hadn’t had any idea what he’d been talking about when he asked her about the credit card and the flowers.

  If she hadn’t been blowing smoke – and his gut told him that she hadn’t – that brought him back around to his original problem.

  In this day and age of sophisticated identity theft, gaining access to credit card numbers and bank accounts was child’s play for a certain criminal element. They certainly didn’t need access to physical cards. But the flowers had been ordered using an actual credit card that had been stolen, and that was Brian Owen’s MO. Not highly sophisticated, the man – along with his cousin – had gone for good old-fashioned physical theft.

  If Brian Owen was indeed responsible for harassing Allie, in part as a way of getting back at him, then it was conceivable the man had sent the flowers as a sort of… psychological warfare, he guessed.

  But it still didn’t answer how the man had known about the miscarriage.

  Except… Victoria knew. And Victoria had been having an affair with Tobias Abernathy. Pillow talk, especially since Torie essentially hated Allie, could explain Abernathy having the knowledge. And if indeed the Owen cousins had been procuring Civil War artifacts that they’d sold to Abernathy – who either paid them to do so, or looked the other way about the artifacts’ origins…

  It still seemed odd that Abernathy would have chosen to reveal that detail. The Owens were basically hired thugs, while Abernathy – by all accounts – was a man of some intelligence. Getting involved in Owen’s personal vendetta seemed a stupid thing to do. Unless the man had been blackmailing him, or threatening him in some way.

  Will tossed the pencil onto the desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt like there was something he was missing, some link between Abernathy and the Owen cousins and their targeting of Allie that he’d overlooked.

  He guessed it shouldn’t matter now, since the three principals were dead – or presumed dead – but something nagged at him. It all boiled down to what they’d hoped to gain. After killing his cousin, be it intentionally or by accident, Brian Owen had stolen Allie’s car, her purse – a monetary incentive for him, with a bonus of causing Will a great deal of stress.

  But the flowers – what did Owen stand to actually gain by that little stunt?

  Nothing that Will could see. Not immediately, anyway.

  Because he knew he was missing something, Will looked over the reports he’d gotten from the county sheriff detailing the circumstances surrounding each of the thefts that occurred in his jurisdiction. Then he pulled up the reports of the thefts that had occurred in his own jurisdiction, of which there were only three.

  He didn’t know what he hoped to find, looking through reports of purse snatchings and B&Es, but…

  Will paused, looking at the dates. Then he flipped through the reports again, carefully combing details before leaning back in his seat.

  The pencil – which he didn’t even realize he’d been holding – snapped in his hand.

  “ALAN,” Allie said, heart leaping into her throat. “You startled me.” Again.

  He stood near the gardenia hedge that separated the Dust Jacket’s garden from Tucker and Sarah’s property. Only a few weak rays of the dying day filtered through the trees so that his face was mostly in shadow.

  But she could see, even in the gathering dusk, that he looked… resigned.

  “I’m sorry, Allie. I want you to know that.”

  Allie wasn’t entirely sure why he was telling her this, but his tone coupled with his expression caused warning bells to start clanging in her head.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  He tilted his head, studied her face. “Don’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Ah, but I think you do. You’re a smart woman. Something that runs in the family. I thought I was smarter, but… I’m aware I screwed up. And I know you’re aware of it, too.”

  The pounding of her pulse added a percussion beat to the warning bells. The baby’s breath. He had to be talking about the flowers.

  “Alan,” she said slowly, trying to buy herself some time while she considered the best approach. Try to play it off like she really was clueless? She was a terrible actress, and he was a cop. He’d see right through that.

  So she was left with honesty. Of the partial variety, anyway.

  “I can only assume you’re talking about the flowers. And I’m also assuming that you sent them.” As a way of… what? Driving some sort of new wedge between her and Wesley? Of making her feel even more vulnerable than she already did so that he could be her knight in shining armor? So that he could offer her a shoulder on which to lean?

  Allie swallowed back the rage that was trying to push its way to her emotional surface, like magma about to erupt. She wasn’t entirely sure what Alan hoped to accomplish by having
this conversation here and now, but she certainly no longer trusted that he had her well-being at heart.

  “If you’re worried that I’m going to tell Will,” because now she was assuming, judging by Alan’s behavior, that Will did not know “then let me set your mind at ease. I think it was a very ill-advised and… underhanded way of trying to accomplish your objective, not to mention that it caused me a great deal of pain.” She let some of that pain show through in her face, her voice, and he had the grace to wince. “But I’m not going to run to my big brother and try to get you fired.” Although she had no doubt that Will would find out about this, and that Alan’s termination would likely be the inevitable result.

  Alan gave her a look that could only be described as pitying. “If only it were that simple.”

  “I see no reason to make it complicated. You exercised poor judgment. Most of us do at one time or another.” Though not often in such a spectacularly self-serving, inconsiderate and assholish way.

  He laughed, just a huff of air that carried no real amusement. “You think I’m worried about losing my job.”

  “Well… aren’t you?”

  “That’s just the tip of the iceberg, I’m afraid.”

  “I don’t know what you –” Allie gasped when she saw the Taser. Her gaze flew up to meet Alan’s.

  “I really am sorry,” he said.

  MASON felt rather ridiculously like a small boy anxiously awaiting the arrival of good old Saint Nick. He’d used the time of Allison’s absence to clean up both himself and the kitchen counter, which – were this his own home – he might consider having bronzed. Rather like one did with their children’s baby booties. Or at least that was what his parents had done. Perhaps other people weren’t quite so obsessive.

  Thinking of his parents made him smile. He couldn’t wait for them to meet Allison – and that in itself told him exactly how much he’d changed. They were flying into town for Tucker’s wedding, as his mum considered Tucker to be her surrogate son, and Mason was practically bursting to show Allie off.

  Which clearly meant he’d lost his mind. His mum would be calling the banns straightaway.

  Somehow, that thought wasn’t nearly as alarming as it should be.

  Growing impatient, Mason actually went to the window to see if he could spot Allison headed back this way. There were a number of trees and tall hedges in between the properties, but the window over the kitchen sink afforded a partial view of the Dust Jacket’s back porch.

  And bloody hell, he thought with a measure of disgust. He was going to have to surrender his man card if he didn’t stop acting like a love struck fool.

  He began to turn away from the window, only to see Allie descending the porch steps. His expression brightened. His heart leapt. And his nether regions were rather intrigued by what exactly she appeared to be carrying under her arm.

  Some type of food product, he thought…

  She disappeared behind the hedge and Mason considered how embarrassing it would be for her to actually catch him watching for her out the window. Wouldn’t want her to mistake him for a fifteen-year-old girl, after all.

  He started to move away from the window. But something moved out of the shadows, something large, and disappeared around the corner of the hedge. Following Allison.

  Mason flew out the door.

  “NO!” Allie said, horrified by the sight of the Taser, but just as Alan raised his arm he was tackled from behind.

  “Oh my God. Mason.” He and Alan grappled on the ground. Evenly matched as far as size and weight, Mason had the advantage of surprise. But Alan was a trained police officer. And Allie couldn’t forget that he was armed.

  Mason delivered a short arm punch as Alan tried to get his own arm around to use the Taser on Mason. Allie dug into her purse before flinging it to the ground.

  “Drop the Taser or I’ll shoot. I said drop it.”

  Both Mason and Alan froze, Mason’s expression one of surprise while Alan’s could only be described as barely suppressed fury.

  “You won’t shoot. Not when you might hit him,” he said.

  “Don’t bet on it.”

  Looking at the gun, at her confident stance, his gaze turned into a glare. He dropped the Taser, and Mason snatched it up before climbing off of his back.

  “Don’t move,” Allie said, when he started to sit up. He wasn’t in uniform, but she didn’t know whether he might be wearing an ankle holster.

  He raised his palms off the ground, his expression turning mocking. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Are you alright?” she said to Mason, not taking her eyes off of Alan.

  Mason wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth where Alan’s elbow had caught him in the lip. His voice was chipper. “Never better.”

  “Could you come get my phone out of my purse and call Will?”

  “No need,” said a familiar voice from behind her, and Will, accompanied by officers Tolliver and Graves, came around the corner, firearms drawn.

  “I have the oddest sense of déjà vu,” Mason said as he stepped further out of the way. And though the words were flippant, his normally clipped tone held just the slightest tremor.

  Tolliver and Graves moved to cuff Alan, who – thank God – didn’t put up a fight.

  “You can lower your firearm now,” Will murmured, and Allie glanced up to see him standing beside her. It was only when she met his gaze that her hands started to shake.

  Will eased the gun from stiff fingers. “You did good, kid.”

  “I… Alan… he –”

  “Yeah, I know what Alan did,” he said, fiercely controlled fury flashing like blue lightning in his eyes.

  He glanced at his co-worker, his friend, but Alan refused to look up.

  “Allison?”

  Allie turned to see that Mason had come up beside them. He opened his arms.

  Allie threw herself into them.

  “I’m going to need to talk to both of you, so don’t go anywhere,” Will said and she heard Mason murmur something affirmative in reply. His heart, much like hers, was thundering too loudly against her ear for her to make it out clearly.

  Will moved away and Allie started to shake uncontrollably. Mason’s arms tightened around her.

  “You were magnificent,” he whispered.

  “I was terrified.”

  “Magnificent,” he repeated. “Though part of me wishes you’d shot that bastard.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “A flesh wound,” he suggested.

  “It wasn’t loaded.”

  “What?”

  “The gun wasn’t loaded.”

  Mason considered that for a moment. “I recant my previous statement.”

  This time she was the one who was confused. “What?”

  “My previous statement,” he explained. Then he lifted her chin. “You, my darling.” He planted a firm kiss on her lips. “Are one hell of an actress.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  WILL sat in his car outside the very pretty yellow frame house, with its wrap around porch and green metal roof, and bright bursts of purple lantana spilling out of black planters on either side of the front door. Several windows were open to catch the morning breeze. A little blue bike leaned drunkenly against the trunk of the massive crape myrtle that added another profusion of color to the front yard. A wagon – red, of course – filled with an assortment of balls and bright plastic guns and what looked like a very battered stuffed armadillo had been abandoned at the side of the drive.

  And there, next to a row of wax myrtles, was a wooden doghouse with the word Barney painted in funky letters above the door.

  It was a really nice family home. Welcoming. Lived in. Comfortable.

  Will sighed. And wondered for the hundredth time exactly how much of a role he’d played in shattering Camellia Campbell Abernathy’s world.

  Alan – no big surprise – continued to refuse to answer any questions, but Will had managed to put most
of it together nonetheless.

  His jaw tightened as he thought of his former co-worker, former friend. Will’d spent the past year trying to… atone for the corruption he’d uncovered in the department when he’d taken over temporarily as acting Chief, only to realize that one of his most trusted associates was continuing the tradition of accepting bribes and payoffs right under Will’s nose.

  So much for his vaunted powers of observation.

  It started to become clear when he read the case reports. The rash of thefts had interestingly shifted outside his jurisdiction after Alan questioned a suspect meeting the description given by one of the victims. A description which included the mention of a large grim reaper tattoo on the man’s upper left arm. It was right there in Alan’s notes, and yet he had claimed not to recognize the tattoo when Will’d shown it to him.

  That in itself wouldn’t have been damning – memories could be short – except that when he’d done some further digging, it appeared that Alan’s financial situation seemed to have improved around that same time, despite the fact that he’d been embroiled in a bitter divorce. But because the Owen cousins weren’t exactly the type of criminal kingpins with pockets deep enough to warrant having a cop on the payroll, Will figured Alan had used the minnows to lead him to the bigger fish in the pond.

  Tobias Abernathy.

  Jimmy Owen knew Abernathy through his job at the auction warehouse, and it seemed the Owen cousins had been in the habit of procuring artifacts of questionable origin for the man’s highly profitable store.

  It was only when they grew a little too bold and started acting up in Sweetwater again that it became a real problem for Alan. The night Will arrested Jimmy for beating up Tommy Culpepper, it was Alan who claimed that the other culprit had gotten away. And then Allie and Mason had almost literally stumbled over one or maybe both of the Owens in their attempt to disinter Eugene Hawbaker.

  Will still wasn’t entirely sure whether or not Alan had had a hand in either of the Owen’s deaths, or if that had worked out exactly as he’d conjectured – that the two men had had an argument that resulted in Jimmy’s death, and then Brian had overdosed not long after. All the evidence they had so far pointed to Brian Owen being alone in his campaign to harass Allie, most likely as a fuck you to Will – or even, possibly, to Alan.