A dead girl who still had no name.
“We have a name,” Nielson said quietly, addressing the few men he’d selected to help work this team. “There was some sort of computer error, otherwise we would have had a name before now—this woman’s been listed as a missing person for the past three weeks.”
He was keeping it close and tight—one screwup, that was all it would take for somebody to try to get this away from him. But the memory of that girl’s face …
Focus, man. Focus. The job.
“We have a name,” he said again. “Jolene Hollister, aged twenty-nine. Engaged to be married. She disappeared twenty-one days ago from Cherokee Park in Louisville, Kentucky. She’d gone there to go running—her car, her purse, her keys were all found there by her fiancé, who reported her missing. I’m still trying to contact her next of kin. Her only family is a cousin—out of the country.”
He took a picture of Jolene from the folder he held and studied it.
Young. Pretty.
She looked like she had her whole life ahead of her.
She’d only had months.
Setting his jaw, he pinned the image of her smiling face up on the board, next to one of the images taken at the scene.
It was almost obscene, the difference between the two.
Obscene.
There was something else about her that bothered him, but he wasn’t quite ready to discuss that with anybody yet. Wasn’t sure if anybody besides him had noticed.
Turning back, he studied the faces of his men.
Sadly, one of those faces was Prather. He hadn’t had much choice—if he didn’t let Prather in, considering Prather had found her, it was going to cause problems.
Nielson just hoped letting the fool in didn’t prove to be more of a problem.
“So. Let’s see what we can do to help find some justice for Miss Jolene,” he said, turning away from the image of her smiling hazel eyes.
“Shit, business had better pick up,” Roz muttered.
Lena rotated her neck, wincing a little at the stiffness there. “It will. Give it a few more days.” She grimaced. “This is … unusual … for Ash. Only type of violence people see around here is the occasional barfight or a drunk-driving accident every now and then.”
“Don’t forget about Pete Hamilton.”
Lena scowled. “Shit. Why not? I say we throw that bastard in a dark hole filled with rats and forget completely about him. Until he’s nothing but bone.”
“Oh … gory image. Nice.”
“Sorry.” She finished wiping down the counter and said, “Bastards who knock their wives around set me off.” She washed her hands and turned back to face Roz. “I heard the daughter saw it all.”
“That’s what I heard, too. Word is Remy Jennings is planning on putting that bastard behind bars for a good long while.”
A smile tugged at Lena’s lips. “If anybody can, Remy can do it.”
He was sharp, determined, and focused. She’d admired that about him, respected it.
“So … think he might have any idea on who else he might be putting behind bars?”
Roz’s attempt at subtlety fell flat. Shoving off the counter, Lena tucked her hands into her pockets and balled them into fists. “Meaning … who?”
Long, awkward, awful minutes of silence passed. “Lena, you know who.”
“You actually think Law could have killed somebody?”
“Well, no. But, Lena … the body was found at his house,” Roz said.
“Yeah, and he wasn’t there.”
“You’re sure about that?”
Lena opened her mouth, closed it because she wasn’t sure she could say anything coherent—except a long, nasty stream of swear words. Finally, she managed to say, “What do you mean, am I sure about that? Hell, yes I’m sure. He wasn’t even in town, and besides, it’s Law. He wouldn’t ever do that to a woman.”
“I don’t want to think he would, either,” Roz murmured.
But Lena heard the doubt. And it twisted her stomach and made her see red. “Then you don’t think it, Roz. If you believe in him, if he is your friend, it shouldn’t be that fucking hard.”
“Lena, he is, but …” Roz’s voice trailed off.
An awkward silence fell between them. As the knot in her gut twisted tighter and tighter, Lena finally shoved away from the counter. Under her breath, she muttered, “Fuck it.”
“Lena, I want to believe in him, too, you know. And if you’re sure he was out of town …”
“Roz? Do me a favor and be quiet,” Lena said. She made her way around the kitchen until she reached one of her cabinets. The rum she kept in there was generally just used for baking, but right then, she didn’t care. She pulled the bottle down and got herself a Diet Coke and some ice.
“Yes, Roz. I’m sure he was out of town, attending the funeral of a friend. He wasn’t anywhere in the state, so yes, I am sure.”
“Lena, don’t be mad. He’s my friend, too—”
“Don’t,” Lena said quietly, her voice trembling just a little with rage. She set the glass down. Carefully. Very carefully. Because she was tempted to slam it down, just to hear the glass shatter. Curling her fingers around the edge of the cool marble countertop, she said again, “Don’t, Roz. Don’t stand there and tell me that he’s your friend right after you ask me if I’m sure he didn’t brutally rape and murder some woman. You don’t have the right to call him a friend.”
Abruptly, she yanked her tunic off and grabbed her phone from her pocket. “I’m going home.” She dialed Ezra’s number, ignoring Roz’s stammering voice as he came on the line. “Hey, I’m done here. How soon can you be here?”
“Five minutes, actually. I was already on my way. I had planned to get a bite to eat.”
“I’ll make you something at my place,” Lena said. She had to get out of there before she exploded. All night, she thought, steaming. All night, she had felt some of the weird looks coming from people. Most of the people who worked at the Inn knew Law well enough to realize he wasn’t a psycho, even if they did think he was a little weird.
But Roz … hell, Law considered her a friend. And this was what she thought of him?
“Lena, it’s only eight-thirty. You can’t leave.”
“Want to bet?” she asked, baring her teeth in a sharp smile.
“Lena, honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you …”
“Upset me?” Lena’s jaw dropped. Snapping it shut, she took a slow deep breath, tried to get her temper under control. “You think I’m upset? Roz, what I am is fucking pissed. Law’s being treated like a pariah in this town because some psychotic pervert decided to fuck around with him. You should know him better. You’re supposed to be his friend, but you actually think he could do that to a woman. You think he’s capable of that.”
“Lena, of course I don’t. I don’t really think he could kill somebody …”
Lena laughed. Even to her ears, the sound was cold, harsh, and brittle—as though it might break in her throat, shatter, cut, and choke her. “Shit, Roz. Almost anybody could kill under the right circumstances. Self-defense, to protect somebody you love? I’d certainly try. But what happened to that girl? That wasn’t killing.”
Ezra knew the details. He hadn’t shared them all, but she’d pried a few of them loose. Besides, the grief, the rage she heard in his voice? That spoke more than any words possibly could.
“What happened to that girl is something only a monster is capable of,” Lena said softly. “And you stand there and make implications that Law, one of my best friends, could be that monster. One of your friends. But you’re sorry.”
“Damn it, Lena. What else do you want me to say?” Roz shouted.
A warm, furry weight pressed against Lena’s legs and she reached down, rested a hand on Puck’s head. His big body was tense, and she could feel his unease. He growled softly and she whispered to him, “It’s okay, boy. Calm down. We’re just pissed off.” She couldn’t do this around
him—he was too sensitive to her moods and she didn’t need him developing a dislike for one of her best friends. Although damn it, right now, she had a dislike for her best friend.
“Nothing,” she said, focusing her attention back on Roz. “You don’t need to say anything.”
“Damn it, Lena,” Roz said.
Spine rigid, Lena ignored the other woman as she heard the door to the kitchen open. Thank God, she thought. Grabbing Puck’s leash from the hook, she crouched down by the door.
It wasn’t Ezra, though.
It was Carter.
“Ahh … is everything okay in here?”
“Just peachy,” Lena snapped. Gripping the dog’s leash, she rose and headed to the kitchen’s north entrance. She’d wait for Ezra out in the lobby. “Come on, boy.”
“Are you okay, Lena?” Carter asked.
“No. I’ve got a headache, I’m pissed, and I’m leaving,” she said, biting off each word.
“It’s not closing time yet.”
“And we’re dead in here. If somebody comes in, give them bar food, tell them I started puking all over the floor—I don’t care—but I’m leaving,” she said.
“Lena, I can see you’re upset …”
Upset—damn it, if one more person called her upset, she was going to start gouging out eyes.
Unaware of how close she was to screaming, Carter continued. “I know we’re friends, but you are an employee. Now if you’re ill, I understand, but if not …”
“If not, what?” she demanded scathingly.
“Lena, we need to talk about this,” Roz said.
“The hell we do!” she shouted. “I’m not talking about this right now.”
Puck’s growling grew louder. Shit. She was freaking her dog out.
“Lena, I don’t know what the problem is, but you don’t speak to my wife that way and you can’t just walk out in the middle of your shift, either.”
“And what if I do, damn it?” Reaching down, she laid a hand on Puck’s head. “If I walk out that door, you’ll what? Fire me? If that’s what you need to do, then you do it, because I can’t stay here another minute—if I do, I’ll say something I’ll regret.”
She didn’t wait long enough for him to come up with an answer.
“What just happened?”
Gaping, Roz turned and looked at her husband. The misery on her face twisted at something inside him. Sighing, Carter crossed the room and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tucking her against him.
“Baby, what just happened?” she said again. “I … damn it, I don’t get it. We’ve never had a fight like that. She’s never acted like that.”
“What started it?”
Roz sniffled. “Me.” Then she started to cry. “I just can’t help it. I’m scared. I’m worried. And … well, all this crazy talk about Law, I don’t really think it’s him, but what if it is? She’s so close to him and she …” She sobbed against his shirt.
Carter rubbed his cheek against her short, soft curls. “It’s okay, darling. I understand. We all love him. Nobody wants to think he could do this. I don’t think he did. But we worry.”
Roz continued to cry.
He simply stood there and held her, stroking her back. There wasn’t much else he could do.
His nice, quiet little town had gone crazy, Remy realized with more than a little dismay.
It was early Friday morning. He needed to be in his office, and instead, he was trapped in the doorway of the café. In his left hand, he held his laptop bag. In his right hand, he held a cup of coffee that had already started to cool.
Keeping his frustration hidden, he stared into Deb Sparks’s eyes and tried to figure out just what in the hell she expected of him.
“Well?” she demanded, her voice shrill, strident.
Her eyes, a pale, almost colorless shade of blue, peered at him and he could tell by the stubborn set of her shoulders, the lift of her chin that she expected an answer.
She wasn’t the only one, either.
She had four other people with her.
Earl Prather was standing there, just a few feet away and he was watching the whole damn thing with just a little too much amusement for Remy’s liking. “Ms. Sparks, I can’t issue a warrant when there is no proof,” Remy said. He’d already mentioned that little fact three times.
“You have proof,” she snapped.
Remy barely resisted the urge to wince. Her voice could break glass, he’d swear to it.
“No, we don’t. What we have is a body that appears to have been placed there. Law Reilly wasn’t on the premises when she was put there. He wasn’t in the state when she was killed.”
Her eyes widened. In a dramatic voice, she said, “They can fool coroners, you know. Putting the body on ice, all sorts of things. I’ve seen it on Court TV, CSI, Law & Order. And just because he claims he wasn’t in the state doesn’t mean he wasn’t. Did you look for ice? Did you?”
Ice. What in the hell? Shit. Put knowledge in the hands of stupid people, and it just made them more stupid, he thought.
“No, I didn’t look for ice. However, I’m sure the deputies did. And deputies from the sheriff’s office spoke with a number of people who can testify to Law Reilly’s whereabouts,” Remy said, looking at Deb’s face and then at Prather, then to each of her loyal little crowd of followers.
Slowly, as though he was speaking to a child, he said, “Law Reilly was not in the state. And, while I’m sure you’re just trying to help, this really isn’t anything I can discuss with you—any of you.”
“Why not?” Deb stomped her foot. “I am a taxpayer. I pay your salary, Remy Jennings, and don’t you forget it. That means you answer to me.”
Oh, now that did it. “No. It does not mean I answer to you. I answer to my superiors, and if you have a problem with how I do my job, take it up with them.” He made a display of taking a look at his watch. “Now, if you don’t mind, I do have other cases, other taxpayers who are depending on me.”
“Your mama should be ashamed of you, letting a sick pervert like that walk around when you’ve got the power to stop him!” Deb proclaimed.
Remy couldn’t decide what was more annoying—her strident tones or her habit of making everything sound like a matter of life or death. Turning to look at her, he said, “Ms. Sparks, believe it or not, if I thought Law Reilly was guilty, I’d be out there combing through every square inch of the county on my hands and knees myself, looking for proof. But he’s not a murderer.”
He pushed through the small crowd only to come to a dead stop as he started to swing left.
Law Reilly was standing there, his face an unreadable mask. The woman was with him, her long brown hair swept back and braided, falling over her shoulder in a tail that damn near touched her waist.
Law might have been wearing a mask, but the woman … she wasn’t.
Her face was pale, but her sea-green eyes snapped with fire. She wasn’t looking at him, though. She was staring past him with disgust at the people gathered at the foot of the steps.
“Bunch of hyenas,” she muttered, her voice a low, soft drawl.
Then her eyes cut to his. Their gazes locked for a few seconds and she looked away, staring at the concrete as though it held something uniquely fascinating.
Hell, Remy found her fascinating.
She crashes into a plant stand and gets terrified, but somebody insults her lover and she looked ready to rip throats open?
Tearing his eyes away from her pretty, heart-shaped face, he looked at Law. “Reilly.”
Law cocked a brow. “Good morning, Counselor.”
At the sound of Law’s voice, the small crowd at the café door went strangely silent. One by one, they eased down the steps, glanced at Law, and then started to slink away.
Law would have let them do just that.
The woman, though?
“Such a nice town, here, Law. So nice of you to invite me for a visit … they stand around talking about you behind your back, b
ut they don’t have the courage to look you in the eye when they realize you heard every damn word,” she said. “They think you’re the sort of sick, murdering coward who could beat and murder a woman, but they don’t have the guts to say it to your face. I love a hypocrite, don’t you?”
That soft, low voice of hers could carry, Remy realized.
Amused, he shifted so he could see the reaction from the corner of his eye.
Two of them kept walking. One paused and looked back at Law, then at the woman, shamefaced, before hurrying on down the sidewalk.
But Deb, damn her—was she stupid or was she just that fond of causing trouble?
Lifting her chin, she came closer. Giving Law a nasty look, she then focused her eyes on the woman—Remy still didn’t know her name, shit.
“You’re making a mistake with this one, young lady.” Deb sniffed. “I should know. He’s lived here for years and after you’ve lived near a person for that long, you get to know them. He’s trouble, mark my words.”
A cool smile spread over the woman’s face. “After you’ve lived near a person for years, huh?” She smirked. “Then I should know. He may be trouble, but he’s no murderer. I’ve known him since I was in diapers. He wouldn’t hurt a woman. He doesn’t have it in him. And that is something I have on good authority—you can mark my words.”
A strange, faraway look entered her eyes, one that left Remy with a bad, bad taste in the back of his mouth.
Then she blinked and the moment shattered. Looking back at Deb, she said, “Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong. You’ll figure that out soon enough.”
She looked away from Deb then, effectively dismissing her. “Come on, Law. Let’s get out of here. We can grab some coffee at the bookstore or something. Suddenly, I’m not hungry.”
As they headed down the sidewalk, Remy fell in step with them. He could have given them several reasons—if he didn’t get away from Deb, he might do himself bodily harm, jab himself in the chest with his pen, beat himself in the head with his iPhone until he broke the skin—just to have a reason to escape. But he also needed the woman’s name.
Even if she belonged to Law, and it looked like she did. Whether Law was still hung up on Lena or not, the woman was loyal to him.
If You Hear Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense Page 26
