by Sara Orwig
Wyatt sent Tony a text. Three minutes later his phone rang.
“I’m watching Destiny Jones in Verity on TV.”
“I’m sure you are. I’ve talked to Nick and I promise I’ll introduce both of you sometime.”
“Cool. Don’t forget. Right now you’re missing her interview.”
“I’ll live. Talk to you soon, Tony.” Wyatt picked up an iPad from his desk and switched to the television cable to pick up her interview. He watched her deftly field questions, give answers that would bring laughter and generally captivate the audience. He gazed at her green eyes and auburn hair. It wouldn’t matter if she had mumbled and had nothing to say. She was gorgeous and charming and her audience was enchanted.
Wyatt’s jaw clamped shut a little more tightly as he listened to her talk about wanting to learn about Lavita Wrenville and how fascinating Verity’s history was, including the Milan-Calhoun feud. Each minute he watched her his hopes sank lower because at dinner he had hoped to discourage her from using the unsolved murders at the Wrenville house for a show. There would be no way, now that she’d spoken about it to the media, that she’d pack up and go back to Chicago.
He thought about her parking the red limo in his space. That had not been a casual, thoughtless event. She wanted the town’s attention and she had known exactly what she was doing then, just as she knew what she was doing now in talking to the crowd that was still growing. Shortly, he would have to go out there and break it up because they would be blocking traffic on Main if many more people came to watch her.
Even as he thought that and watched, she told the crowd farewell. A man stepped in front of her and a woman moved on one side of her. To Wyatt’s surprise Val moved beside her on the other side as a second woman fell in behind them. They crossed the street, the man in the lead clearing the way while a smaller crowd flowed with her. When they reached the red limo, the man leading the way held the door. She turned to smile and wave at the crowd, thanking them, throwing them a kiss and then vanishing into the limo, followed by the two women, the tinted windows hiding the interior. In seconds the limo slowly eased from the curb and the crowd dispersed.
He switched off the iPad and stood, rubbing the back of his neck.
He had mixed feelings about dinner with her, but his desire to spend the evening with her outweighed his dislike of having to deal with her about the Wrenville murders and the old family feud. Seven o’clock couldn’t come too soon.
Wyatt nodded. This might be a night to remember.
Two
Destiny and her staff entered the hotel and took the VIP elevator to the top floor where she had all four suites. In addition to hers, Virginia and Duke Boyden, her camera operator and her chauffeur, shared a suite, while Amy had her own suite next to Destiny’s.
Destiny entered her suite, followed by Amy Osgood, her cousin and assistant. Destiny barely glanced at a huge bouquet of pink-and-white lilies on the oval glass table in front of the sofa. Amy paused beside a large round platter holding cheeses, crackers and fruit. A stack of china plates and cutlery was on a tray next to the hors d’oeuvres. Amy picked up a card. “Compliments of the Verity Hotel,” she read.
“Take all that to your room. I really don’t want any of it.”
“Thanks, Destiny. I’ll take some. I have a smaller version in my room and the Boydens have one, also.”
“Y’all can share mine,” Destiny said as she tossed aside her large bag. She was remembering the moment in his office that Sheriff Wyatt Milan had entered. The most vivid, crystal-blue eyes she had ever seen had taken her breath away, holding her immobile, stopping her thoughts while they had stared at each other. She had seen pictures of him, but she wasn’t prepared for the man in person. No wonder Desirée had fallen for him. She had never understood what had gotten into her little sister to go to some tiny town in Texas and fall head over heels in love with the sheriff.
She had learned soon enough that she had been wrong in her views of the small Texas town. Verity’s residents had enormous wealth. She had been surprised when she had learned the sheriff himself was a billionaire rancher, a member of an old-time Texas family, a former professional football player and he held a law degree. But looking into his blue eyes today, feeling the force of his personality when he had simply entered the room, she realized why Desirée had been bowled over. The man was larger-than-life. One look and her opinions of Wyatt Milan had changed instantly.
Wavy brown hair above a face with rugged features, prominent cheekbones, a slight bump in his nose, maybe from a break, a stubborn jut to his chin. He wore a neat brown uniform with an unofficial hand-tooled leather belt around his narrow waist and boots on his feet. It wouldn’t have mattered what he wore; just standing quietly he had a commanding presence.
She spun around in a circle with her arms outstretched. “Congratulate me, Amy. Sheriff Milan is taking me to dinner tonight. Just what I want, but coming sooner than I expected.”
“Congratulations!” Amy said, glancing at her boss with a frown.
“Don’t look so worried.”
“You said he doesn’t want you here or want you using Verity for a show,” Amy said.
“Sheriff Milan will change his mind. You’ll see. Besides, I have the letter from the governor of Texas and a letter from Mayor Nash.”
“So when are you going to make it public that you have a tie to this town?” Amy asked.
“I told you—when I can get the most attention by doing so. Attention for the show. I’ll make my announcement when I’m taping. Until then it’s our little secret. Verity doesn’t make the news, so it’s never been picked up by the media that I have a connection here.”
“Sheriff Milan already isn’t happy with you. He’ll really dislike learning your mother is in a branch of the Calhoun family from here.”
Destiny smiled. “We’ll see when the time comes. Until then—bury it.”
“I will. It’s a shame the sheriff doesn’t want you here. I think the story of the murders should be interesting. People in the crowd today seemed to like you and want you here.”
“Verity is a small town and they keep to themselves. No one has ever made an issue about the house or publicized it. It’s just gone unnoticed. Lots of towns that have something like this capitalize on it and make it a tourist attraction or Halloween event and get attention, but not here. That makes it good for me to use in my book whether or not I find anything. I don’t really expect to solve the old murders. It’s been more than a hundred years since Lavita Wrenville’s demise.”
“You must have made an impression on Sheriff Milan since he asked you to dinner tonight.”
“He invited me to dinner to try to talk me out of staying here and doing a show about the Wrenville house. He doesn’t know that I’ve heard about the murders, the legend and the feud from Mimi,” she said, using the name she had called her grandmother since she had learned to talk
“Your grandmother seems to know a lot about this town even though she never lived here.”
“She lived in Dallas and had other Calhoun relatives here. She’s the one who interested me in the story of Lavita Wrenville and the triple murders.”
“It will shock people when you announce you’re a Calhoun,” Amy said and Destiny smiled. “It will add a little spice to the story of the Wrenville murders. I hope it doesn’t rock the sheriff too badly.”
Amy continued, “I heard a woman broke their engagement and Sheriff Milan hasn’t had a serious affair since. That might explain his actions with your sister. He’s about the only one who had an affair with her and didn’t propose.”
“So he’s had a broken heart? Interesting,” Destiny said, thinking about Wyatt. “I don’t think Desirée knew that, but she’s more interested in herself than the men she dates, so she doesn’t really learn a lot about them. Wyatt keeps himself all buttone
d up. He likes women—and vice versa, I’m sure. Desirée probably did what every other single female in this town has done—fallen in love with him. Have you ever seen such blue eyes?”
“I haven’t met him yet. I think he stood across the street today when you talked to all the people.”
“Yes, he did. Did any of you find out why our billionaire rancher is also sheriff of Verity? Mimi knew nothing about that.”
“Actually, from what we’ve pieced together it’s because of the Wrenville house.”
Destiny stopped looking through her purse and raised her head. “How so?” She held up her hand. “Wait. I better get ready for tonight. He’s picking me up at seven. Come tell me while I decide what to wear.” She headed into the large bedroom. A huge bouquet of red anthurium and purple gladioli stood on a table. She glanced at the card. “Enjoy your stay. Verity Chamber of Commerce.”
Amy went on to explain what they’d learned. “All we could find out is that next year the Wrenville house reverts totally to the town and the town officials can do what they want with the house and property. The people wanted someone for sheriff they could trust when that happens and by general consensus, Wyatt Milan is a trustworthy and honest man, so they talked him into running for office.”
“And he’s probably not happy with someone—me—coming in and poking around before he has control,” Destiny added.
“Everyone seems to like him as sheriff.”
“Especially the ladies, I imagine. According to Desirée, men like him, too.” Destiny looked through her clothes. “About tonight, did you let some of the press know that I’m going out with Sheriff Milan?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Good. I’m going to shower. And I’ll make a call to Mimi and to Desirée.”
“If you don’t need anything else right now, I’ll go unpack some more of my things.”
“Thanks for doing mine earlier.”
“Sure,” Amy said over her shoulder as she left the suite.
Destiny showered, then pulled on undergarments and a robe and got her iPad to do FaceTime with her grandmother. She felt better if she could see the frail, aging woman. Destiny settled back to talk, waiting patiently because it took time for her grandmother to deal with FaceTime.
“Mimi, I’ve met Sheriff Milan,” she said after inquiring about her grandmother’s health and listening to her talk about her day.
“Did he take it well to discover you’re a Calhoun? Desirée never told him she was,” Mimi said. “Then again Desirée can barely remember her heritage and really doesn’t care.”
“I haven’t told him yet either. I’m waiting for the perfect moment. He’s taking me to dinner tonight.”
“He’s a Milan, Destiny. You can’t trust a Milan.”
“Mimi, I think I can trust this one. He got elected sheriff because everyone in Verity trusts him, even Calhouns. Besides, tonight is a business dinner. He wants to talk me out of putting Verity on my show.”
“Pay no attention,” her white-haired grandmother said, smiling. “He’s a Milan and they’re hardheaded and I still say he probably won’t give you straight answers.”
Destiny held back a laugh. Her grandmother never even lived in Verity and knew about the feud only from her parents and grandparents, yet she harbored strong feelings against the Milans. She was the one who had told Destiny of her Calhoun genealogy.
“I’ll let you know how it went,” Destiny said, moving to other subjects until finally, she told her grandmother she needed to go.
“Take care of yourself, Destiny. If the sheriff doesn’t want you there, maybe you should reconsider. Please be careful.”
“I’ll be careful. I love you, Mimi,” she said. “Call me anytime,” she added, wishing she could do more to make her grandmother comfortable, knowing her arthritis bothered her and she didn’t get enough sleep at night.
She thought about the tall, ruggedly appealing sheriff of Verity and her pulse quickened. This would be more interesting than she had anticipated. And more challenging. Most men she encountered were struck by her looks and eager to please her. Wyatt Milan was an exception, but she enjoyed a challenge.
Desirée had told Destiny if she wanted cooperation from the sheriff, she should flirt with him and resort to her female wiles to get what she wanted. He might be happy with some flirting, but Destiny didn’t think it would change his opinion one bit. It certainly hadn’t worked with her sister. He’d been one of the few men able to resist Desirée.
Desirée had gotten over Wyatt and he was all but forgotten within a month after she returned to California. She could forget men as easily as she fell in love with them. Now that Destiny knew Wyatt, she wondered why her sister had ever thought he would go with her back to California. She could, however, understand why Desirée had been attracted to him.
She crossed the room to look in the closet again to decide what she would wear, finally selecting a dress that she hoped would get Wyatt’s attention.
At five before seven she critically studied her image in the full-length mirror, trying to decide if she had achieved the look she wanted. The straight black dress hugged her curves from her waist down, and the top of the dress had a one-shoulder neckline in hot pink that matched her high-heeled sandals. Her hair was pinned up, with curly strands falling free around her face. Gold earrings dangled from her ears and along with the gold bracelets complemented her gold necklace with three diamonds centered in it.
Satisfied with her appearance, she picked up a small black purse just as the phone rang and she answered to hear Wyatt’s voice saying he was in the lobby.
Since she had told the media why she was in Verity, she expected to get attention all the time she was in town. When she stepped down into the lobby from the curving staircase from the mezzanine, she noticed two men with cameras aimed at her. In fact, every man in the lobby looked in her direction. Her pulse skipped a beat when she spotted Wyatt Milan. Dressed in a charcoal suit, black boots, a black wide-brimmed hat, he stood a few yards from the bottom step.
His gaze met hers, causing her heart to thud. Smiling at him, she walked down the stairs. She was aware of the cameras, but her gaze was on Wyatt, who looked back with the faintest hint of a smile.
At the bottom step he came forward. “Destiny,” he said, the simple pronunciation of her name sounding different from anyone else she had heard say it. She tingled from her head to her toes. She’d never had a physical reaction to a man as intense as with Wyatt. She had never expected to be so attracted to him. His electronic pictures had not conveyed his appeal.
He gave her a full smile, laugh lines creasing the corners of his mouth, and she actually felt weak in the knees as he linked her arm with his.
A man holding a camera stepped close. “Evening, Wyatt. Ms. Jones, I’m Carl Stanley with the Verity paper. Is Sheriff Milan taking you to the Wrenville house now?”
“I didn’t dress this way to go to the Wrenville house,” she said, laughing along with Carl and the others around her. “That will come a little later,” she answered, smiling at him.
“How did you hear about Verity and the Wrenville house? Was it from your sister when she visited?”
“I heard about it before that. Maybe Verity is more famous than people who live here realize,” she said while the reporter took notes.
“Do you hope to solve the mystery of the three murders in Lavita’s house?”
“That would be a fabulous result, but I don’t expect to get answers to questions that people have been asking for over a century. We’re just looking into the situation. Sometimes my show, Unsolved Mysteries, prompts people to come forward. We’ve had some solutions to puzzling cases since we started the series.”
“Are you going to interview local people for your show?”
“Carl, in due time you’ll see how the show unfolds
. Thank you for your questions and your interest. Verity is one of the friendliest towns I’ve ever visited. We’ll talk again,” Destiny said, smiling as he raised his digital camera and got a close-up of her. Two more men moved closer and she smiled and posed while they took pictures.
Wyatt stepped forward. “Okay, guys, you have your pictures. We’ll be going now. Ms. Jones will be around to answer questions later this week.” He whisked her outside and into a black sports car. In long strides he circled the car and climbed inside to drive away.
“You handled that well,” she said.
“I believe you’re the one who handled it. You’re news right now and they’re interested, which you expected them to be, and I can’t blame them. This is a quiet town.”
She laughed softly. “Are they following us?”
“No, they won’t follow us. Sorry if you’re disappointed.”
“Why are you so certain they won’t follow?”
“They know me and they know I don’t want them trailing after me. They want my cooperation too often to cross me.”
“So what if someone does?” she persisted.
“We’ll see. It hasn’t ever happened.”
“I don’t think I’m the only one here who’s accustomed to getting his way.”
The corner of Wyatt’s mouth lifted slightly, but he didn’t glance her way or answer and they rode a few minutes in silence.
“Am I really the first outside person to show an interest in the Wrenville house?” Destiny asked. “That’s what someone told me.”
“As far as I know. I can’t really speak for before my time.” He checked his mirrors. “My deputy and I stayed out there once, just to see if anything happened or if vagrants were in there. Nothing happened and no one was staying there. The house is run-down, neglected. No one’s lived in it since the 1800s. It was well built to begin with or it would be falling in by now, but when something is abandoned, it doesn’t last.”
“So the house is ignored by one and all.”
