“I can’t think of anything that would make it much happier, unless you prove Jed’s innocence.”
“I fully intend to,” Thorny said without modesty. “Put the whole mess out of your mind, Riley. Go have fun in Cancun. Start this marriage on a positive note.”
“You bet. Any bad luck is behind us. The other day, Alanna asked if she could call Emmy Mama. I’ve never seen Emmy more pleased. Later, she said to me, ‘Funny, all this time I thought my life was missing a foundation. It’s not. I carried it with me. It’s Mom Fran, Jed, Will and you, Riley.”
Looking up, away from the men—across the room to where his wife stood with the other important people in his life—Riley met Emmy’s eyes. And nineteen years worth of love coalesced for them both. Nineteen and counting, he thought happily. The truth was written on her face. Emmy had everything she needed to make her life complete.
(Continue reading for an excerpt of Uncertain Future by Eve Gaddy)
Coming in December 2012
The conclusion to the Return to Caddo Lake series.
Uncertain Future by Eve Gaddy
CHAPTER ONE
HE FOUND IT in the freezer, wrapped in newspaper. Not a very original hiding place for a murder weapon, but Lenny the Leech had never been long on brains. It didn’t take any special training to know that.
Texas Ranger Will McClain smiled as he pulled on thin latex gloves and peeled aside the newspaper to reveal a 9mm automatic. “Beautiful,” he said to his partner. “Same caliber as the gun that killed Stringer. Want to bet the marks on the casings match?”
“That’s a sucker bet,” Rafe Wagner said. “Let’s bag it and get out of here.” He offered Will a paper bag. “The stench is killing me. There must be a year’s worth of garbage in this dump.”
Will nodded, stuffed the weapon inside the evidence bag and handed it to Wagner to log. As he folded the newspaper to fit into another bag, a headline caught his eye. He stopped in mid-motion, staring at the yellowed clipping. Wagner’s voice continued from a distance, but Will couldn’t distinguish the words.
“What?” Will gazed at Wagner blankly.
“I said hurry up,” he repeated.
Will shook his head, still unable to concentrate.
“Hey, McClain, you okay?”
With an effort, Will focused his attention on his partner. “Yeah, I’m fine. You go ahead. There’s something I need to take care of here. I’ll catch up in a minute.”
As Wagner left, Will took a seat at the chrome-and-black Formica-topped table. A closer inspection of the table proved the color to be the result of the same grunge that covered the rest of the apartment. Careful not to contaminate the newspaper with oils or fluids from the tabletop, he stretched the paper out to read it. Evidence, just like the gun, but Will didn’t intend to bag it until he’d read the article below the gut-draining headline.
Mystery Bones Discovered Near
East Texas Lake Identified
Uncertain, Texas. The mystery of Frannie Granger’s disappearance may finally be solved. The forty-seven-year-old Harrison County woman vanished nineteen years ago this May. Her remains were recently found close to an Indian burial ground near Caddo Lake. She is believed to have been murdered. On March 28 of this year, upon the discovery of human remains obviously not those of a Caddo Indian of the early nineteenth century, archaeologist Theresa Lang turned the skeleton over to the authorities for identification. This week, dental records proved the bones to be those of Frannie Granger, a widow who was housekeeper for various local residents and who provided foster care for unadoptable children in her own home in Uncertain. Granger was well liked in the community, and her sudden disappearance caused quite a stir. Sheriff Logan Fielder could not be reached for comment. The question remains, who murdered Frannie Granger, and why?
Will’s stomach tightened as his gaze shifted to find the date. Two months old, damn it. And it was only by chance he’d seen it at all.
The printed lines blurred, wavered. He shifted back, twenty-three years into the past. He’d been thirteen years old. Brash, cocky, a troublemaker nobody wanted, headed to juvie hall after one last-ditch attempt by social services to provide the home he needed.
He hadn’t wanted it. If he could have managed, he’d have gone back to the streets, or so he told himself. But he’d been too scared to hit the streets again, because even back then he’d known where he’d end up.
Remembering his youthful bravado, Will half smiled. The last thing he’d wanted was to be sent to another foster home. Another family who took him in for the money and booted him out the minute he gave them too much trouble. And he always did.
Then along came Frannie Granger. The woman who had saved his life.
His foster mother hadn’t simply disappeared all those years before. Frannie Granger had been murdered.
The sheriff’s office and jail in Uncertain, Texas, didn’t run to comfort, Tessa Lang decided. Not for the prisoners and certainly not for anyone unfortunate enough to have business with Sheriff Logan Fielder, she thought resentfully. Housed in a drab one-story beige brick building in the center of town, it lacked both charm and personality.
In the reception area, a small room with grayish walls and not a picture to be seen, Tessa shifted in the hard orange plastic chair in a vain attempt to find relief from the ridges digging into her back. For the tenth time, she checked her watch and swore silently. Forty-five minutes until class started. She couldn’t afford to wait much longer. She glanced at Deputy Kyle Masters, the room’s only other occupant, and debated asking him yet again when the sheriff would see her.
Masters sat with his feet on his desk, leafing through the local newspaper. As if he’d read her thoughts, he glanced up and spoke. “Sheriff’s likely to be a while. Sure you don’t want to talk to me instead?” He added a grin.
No doubt he thought it was charming, but Tessa didn’t. A deputy did her no good. He knew that as well as she did. “Yes, I’m sure,” she said shortly, hoping Kyle wouldn’t ask her for a date again. He seemed like a nice enough man, but Tessa had no interest in dating anything but items uncovered at an archaeological site.
It must be the new haircut, she thought, momentarily distracted from her purpose. She smoothed her now shoulder length red hair. Or maybe it was the sleeveless ice-blue summer dress she’d bought a couple of days ago. Ever since her friend and colleague Ellen Hampton had convinced her that her appearance needed drastic updating, strange things had happened to her. Three men—two of them total strangers—had asked her out in the past few weeks. A record unequaled in Tessa’s experience. Men didn’t date her. Normally men didn’t even notice her.
Of course, Ellen’s exact advice hadn’t been that polite, Tessa remembered, smiling. “Tessa, come out of the nineties and join the new millennium,” she’d said. “Lose the uptight hair and boring clothes. For Pete’s sake, you’re an archaeologist, not a mummy.”
Who would have thought a different haircut and a few new outfits would have such an effect? Tessa squirmed a bit in her chair, unsure whether she liked the new attention or not. Part of her felt flattered, but a bigger part felt like an imposter—as if she wore the Emperor’s new clothes and eventually everyone around would realize it and die laughing.
Thinking about her new look didn’t solve her dilemma though. Nothing did. Her problems had all started with the discovery of Frannie Granger’s bones, which had prompted Fielder to shut down her dig indefinitely. Rather than spend the time doing absolutely nothing but feel her blood pressure climb, Tessa had asked around and found the local college desperately needed a professor of archaeology. Their previous one having unexpectedly died. She took the job, and a bit to her surprise, found she loved it. She wondered what her mother, a distinguished archaeological scholar, would say about her only offspring teaching at what she would undoubtedly label a backwater country col
lege.
Odder even than enjoying teaching was that, for the first time in her life, she had made friends. Real friends. Ellen had been first to extend a welcome, but the other professors and most of the townspeople had followed closely behind. They’d all been amazingly nice.
Everyone except Jed Louis, the man she’d had to take to court before she could gain access to his land. No, Jed didn’t like her much, especially after she’d found a murder victim’s remains on his land. His foster mother’s remains, yet.
Tessa scowled again, glancing at the eternally closed door to the sheriff’s office. Fielder hadn’t been in any hurry to allow Tessa back on Jed’s land, either. The land that lay idle in the elements while the sheriff took his sweet time over a twenty-year-old murder.
Once again, Tessa cursed the day she’d discovered the very twentieth century remains among the broken pottery shards near the nineteenth century Caddo Indian burial mound. Why did the blasted body have to show up in the middle of her dig? And why in the hell couldn’t she have at least resumed excavation on another part of the site? She wasn’t a novice, she would have been careful not to approach the cordoned-off area, or allow any of her crew to, either.
But Fielder wouldn’t even let her set foot on the place. Tessa felt sympathy for the murdered woman, who from all accounts had been very nice, but enough was enough. It was either gain access to the site soon, or kiss her grant money, her thesis and her promising career goodbye. She shuddered, thinking of her mother’s reaction to that.
She was just about to leave a pithy message for the blasted lawman when his office door opened. Fielder slouched against the frame, still in no hurry. His gritty-eyed gaze flicked over her with disinterest. His craggy face wore his habitual scowl. In his early sixties, with dark hair liberally shot with gray, he didn’t have an ounce of spare flesh on him, contributing to the image Tessa imagined he enjoyed maintaining. Lean, mean, and tough as an old fence post. Sometimes that snake-eyed expression of his gave her the creeps, but right now she was too ticked off to let it faze her.
Finally he nodded. “Ms. Lang.” He drawled her name out. Tessa didn’t make the mistake of thinking he meant any respect. “Well, what can I do for you?” He stood aside and motioned her in.
As if he didn’t know. They’d played out this same scenario about a hundred times in the past few weeks. “Sheriff Fielder, you know why I’m here. Surely you’ve had time by now to gather all the evidence you need.”
Fielder settled into his chair, leaving Tessa to perch uncomfortably on yet another hard plastic piece of misery.
“Well, now, that depends. You’re mighty anxious to gain access to the murder site, aren’t you, Ms. Lang?”
Duh, she thought, barely stopping herself from rolling her eyes. “Yes sir. As I’ve told you—” a zillion times, she thought darkly “—it’s very important to my thesis that I be allowed to finish the dig started in that area.” Choking on the need for amiability, or at least civility, she itched to wipe the smirk off his face. Too bad she couldn’t think of a way to do it.
Fielder pursed his lips and shuffled through some papers on his desk. “Then this must be your lucky day, Ms. Lang. I’m about convinced we’ve got all the evidence to be gained from the site. I’ve decided to allow you to resume your dig.”
“Like hell she will.” A deep male voice came from behind her.
Tessa’s head whipped around. A stranger filled the office doorway. A very large, very intimidating stranger. From her vantage point, seated in a low-slung chair, Tessa thought he stood about seven feet tall. Mid-thirties, she guessed, with a fallen-angel face she bet earned him more than his share of female attention. Including hers, she realized, with a touch of irritation. Pale blond hair fell to the open collar of a baby-blue button-down dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to expose tanned, powerful forearms. Washed-out denim clung to long, lean, muscled legs. Scuffed cowboy boots added at least an inch or two to an already impressive stature.
But his eyes were his most arresting feature. Gray-green and sharp with authority, they passed right over her and zeroed in on the sheriff like a laser beam.
Tessa tore her startled gaze away from the commanding vision to glance at Fielder. His mouth opened and closed. No sound emerged, but his face reddened and his harsh features looked even more unaccommodating than usual. Suddenly she felt sorry for Deputy Masters. She doubted the sheriff appreciated his letting the stranger through.
“Who the hell are you?” Fielder asked.
The man strode into the room to stand in front of him. Tessa sucked in her breath at the power he brought along with him.
“Will McClain.” Pausing a beat, he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a leather case. He flipped it open and added, “Texas Ranger.”
If possible, the sheriff’s face darkened even more. “McClain?” His brows drew together until they met over the bridge of his nose, then flattened again. “Not—my God, you couldn’t be. Not the McClain—”
“The very same,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “Small world, isn’t it?”
Tessa shivered at the diabolic smile he offered Fielder, glad she wasn’t on the receiving end of it. Still, she had to find out what was going on. Gathering her wits, which seemed to have fled with the Ranger’s entrance, she turned to Fielder and spoke briskly. “Excuse me, but what’s happening here? I thought you were in charge of the investigation?”
Ignoring her, Fielder rose jerkily, staring at the Ranger in revulsion and—she could have sworn—a hint of fear. “What kind of bullshit is this? Show me that badge again.”
McClain shrugged and flipped it to him.
Fielder inspected it, his face paling as he did so. He glanced at the Ranger, then back at the badge. After a long pause, he handed it back and said heavily, “I don’t believe this.”
“Believe it,” McClain said, his voice silky, dark.
Fielder shook his head, as if trying to clear it. “What are you doing here?”
“If you’ll recall, the Rangers never signed off on this case.” He pocketed his badge and nailed the sheriff with another hard smile. “I have orders to finish it.”
“Finish it?” Fielder drew himself up and glared, throwing off his momentary lapse with vigor. “I’ve practically got it sewed up. I didn’t ask for the Rangers, and no piece of . . .” He hesitated, eyeing McClain’s stony face. “No Texas Ranger is going to come in and lay claim to a case I’ve already figured out. I don’t need your damned interference.”
The Ranger looked almost amused now. “Yeah? I’ll be sure and tell my captain you said so. In the meantime, fill me in on what you’ve got.”
Fielder’s jaw tightened. He and McClain stared at each other while Tessa grew more puzzled and irritated, and damn it, curious, by the moment.
Turning to Tessa, Fielder said, “Ms. Lang. I’ll have to get back to you on that other matter.”
Tessa sprang to her feet to gape incredulously at him. “You must be joking! I need access to the burial area, and you just promised it to me.” She waved a hand at the man beside her, realizing that though he was big in comparison to her five foot three, he wasn’t quite the giant she’d originally thought him. “Everything was fine until he came in. Are you just going to let him order you around?” From what she knew of Fielder, she couldn’t imagine it.
“This is a murder investigation,” McClain said. “And that site is pertinent to the investigation.”
“No joke,” Tessa snapped, her gaze transferring to him. It irked her even more that he towered over her like a massive redwood. “Since I’m the one who discovered the bones, I think I’m aware of that.”
“Then you should also be aware we can’t allow you to disturb the site any further.” His gaze assessed her dispassionately, his eyes a cool, cynical gray. “Not until I’m assured all the evidence per
taining to the murder has been collected and logged.”
“But Sheriff Fielder just said—” she began furiously.
“The subject is closed, Ms. Lang. We’ll let you know when the situation changes. Until then, you’d best stay away from that area.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Hands on hips, she jutted out her chin. “This is an outrage. If you think I’m just going to go meekly away—”
“File a complaint,” McClain told her, taking her arm to propel her out of the room. Totally ignoring her sputtered protests, he added, “I’m sure the deputy will be happy to assist you.” Their gazes locked for a brief moment, and a reluctant smile twisted his mouth. Then he shut the door in her face.
Tessa stared at the closed door, unable to believe what had just happened. “You wait, Ranger McClain,” she threatened, regaining her power of speech. “You haven’t seen the last of me.”
Will had a momentary regret for pissing off the archaeologist so royally. Another time that strawberry-blond hair, pouty mouth and curvy little body might have interested him. But he wasn’t in Uncertain to find a woman, not unless that woman happened to be a murderer. Not about to be distracted, he promptly dismissed the redhead and turned his attention to Sheriff Logan Fielder. The old bastard hadn’t changed much.
“Where do you get off . . . “ Fielder began, striding around the desk as if he intended to throw a punch.
Will almost wished he’d try it, except the resulting fight would just waste time and energy. “I’ve told you my orders, Sheriff. I’m here to investigate Frannie Granger’s murder. Accept it, and let’s get down to business.”
“I can’t believe the punk I used to haul in to my jail is a Texas Ranger.”
“Deal with it.” Will smiled, enjoying the older man’s anger. Knowing it would jerk his chain even more, he pulled up a chair and settled comfortably into it. “Fill me in.”
Uncertain Past Page 27
