by Kat Martin
“I’ll call Nate Temple,” Linc said. “He’s the best criminal defense lawyer around. He’ll have you out of there as fast as humanly possible.”
“It was a setup, Linc. I can’t believe I got sucked in. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”
“You had no idea this was coming. You wanted information. You went after it. What about the lady detective? Why didn’t you call her, take her with you?”
“She was asleep. I didn’t want to wake her.” There must have been something in his voice.
“Asleep? Where, in your bed?”
He didn’t deny it. Linc was his best friend. “Not exactly. Look, this wasn’t her fault. I made a bad decision; now I need to fix it.”
“Take it easy, all right? I’ll call Temple. Just stay cool until he gets there.” The line went dead.
Linc was there for him, the way he had been since high school. Beau, the spoiled rich kid ignored by his parents, and Linc, who lived with his mother and drunken, abusive father in a seedy apartment down near the railroad tracks.
Linc had been the official town bad boy, tough as nails and loyal to a fault. He was a Texas multimillionaire now, but he hadn’t really changed.
At sixteen, Beau had been tall but still gangly. He was being bullied by a couple of varsity football jocks till Lincoln Cain, the biggest, strongest kid in class, had befriended him. He’d taught Beau how to defend himself, which led to boxing lessons his father had gladly paid for—anything to keep him busy and out of the house—martial arts lessons after that.
Beau had grown into his tall, lanky body, which was now hard-muscled and well-defined; if it came to it, he had no trouble defending himself.
Which might be useful if murders kept happening wherever he went.
He looked up as a police officer walked toward him. The cop returned him to the same bare-walled interrogation room he had been in before. Tom Briscoe was waiting, looking sleepy-eyed, ticked-off, and disappointed all at once.
“What the hell happened, Beau?”
Beau shook his head. “I should probably wait for my attorney.”
“It would look better if you cooperated—assuming you’re innocent.”
“I’m innocent. For chrissake, I didn’t kill him. I don’t even know his name. Who was he, by the way?”
“Guy named Jess Milford. Ring any bells?”
A muscle ticked in his cheek, which Briscoe must have noticed.
“I can see that it does. Milford worked for Alamo, one of your father’s companies. He lost his job a little over two months ago. Did you know that?”
He knew it. Milford was one of the names his father had hired Cassidy to check out. “I’m not answering any more questions, Tom. Not until my attorney arrives. In the meantime, I’ll tell you what I told those two cops.” Beau recapped the events of the night, starting with the phone call he had received and ending with the police showing up exactly in time to catch him at the murder scene.
“Someone had to have called 9-1-1. The cops arrived right on time. It was a setup, Tom. I’ve been digging around, asking questions about my father’s murder, and somebody doesn’t like it. That call is bound to show up in the dispatcher’s log. Maybe they can track the number, see who made it. The call alone ought to be enough to convince you it was a setup.”
“Look, Beau, it’s not that simple. The call came in as an anonymous tip, a possible burglary at 516 Brookdale Road. When the police arrived, they found you and a dead guy. That makes two dead guys, Beau, both connected to you.”
Beau glanced at his watch. He needed to call Cassidy. He had no idea what she’d think when she discovered him gone, along with her car. He wondered if Linc had been able to line up an attorney. If Temple took the case, how long would it take him to get to Pleasant Hill? How much time would Beau have to spend in jail before Temple could bail him out?
He looked at Briscoe and tried to focus. “What about my father’s murder? Any new suspects? Anything new on the case?”
“Not so far.”
“Did you ever find my father’s cell phone?”
“No. We tried to ping it. Last call went through a tower in the area. We figure the battery’s gone dead.”
“Or the killer disabled it. Look, Tom, we both know the senator had enemies. Have you checked that angle, tried to figure out who else had motive?”
“If you’re thinking of Josie Kessler, she and Missy were both working at the café at the time of the murder.”
“I wasn’t thinking of Josie . . . well, I admit she crossed my mind, because she definitely had motive. I didn’t think it could have been Missy, because of her condition. I’m glad it wasn’t either one of them.”
“So am I. Anything else you want to add before you go back to the holding cell?”
“Only that I didn’t kill Jess Milford or my father. I’m counting on you, Tom, to figure out who did.”
Briscoe made no reply. Which didn’t make Beau feel any better.
* * *
Cassidy got to drive the Lamborghini. Beau had called. He was in jail, being held on suspicion of murder. The police could hold him for forty-eight hours before they officially had to file charges. Cain had found him an attorney.
Cassidy’s emotions had been in turmoil from the moment she had awoken and found herself alone. Beau was gone. She’d been sure he’d left to escape the awkward morning-after conversation, the way a lot of men did.
Self-loathing rushed in. She’d been a fool. She’d allowed Beau to use her when she had known what a heartbreaker he was. After a long, hot shower and time to think, she’d finally admitted it wasn’t all his fault. She had wanted him every bit as much as he’d wanted her.
Whatever happened, she finally decided, the night had been an incredible experience, one she would never forget. She told herself it didn’t matter that one night was enough for Beau.
Then she’d gone in search of her car keys and discovered them missing. Glancing out the window, she realized her car was gone and a whole new set of worries swept in.
It wasn’t until later in the morning that Beau had finally been allowed to make a second phone call, this one to her. When he’d explained what had happened, she’d felt the most unsettling combination of fear and relief. Fear for Beau and relief it wasn’t over between them.
Beau told her where to find the keys to the Lambo and she promised to be there as quickly as she could.
“You don’t have to hurry,” he said darkly. “It doesn’t look like I’m getting out of here anytime soon.”
She’d done her best to lighten his mood. “I don’t have to hurry? What, are you kidding me? It’s a Lamborghini, Beau. It doesn’t know how to go slow.”
He chuckled, though she thought it sounded forced.
When she got to the Pleasant Hill police station, Beau’s attorney had already been there awhile. He was making arrangements for Beau to be released.
“You must be Cassidy,” he said as he walked toward her, not a wrinkle in his navy pinstripe suit. “I’ve spoken to Beau. He said you’d be coming. You’re the private investigator working on his father’s case.”
“Cassidy Jones.” She extended a hand, which he shook.
“I’m Nathan Temple. I prefer Nate. Linc called, asked me to handle Beau’s case.” Nate Temple was older than Beau by at least five years, an attractive man with traces of silver threading through his light brown hair.
“I understand Beau called you and explained what happened,” Temple said.
“That’s right. He said he got a phone call around one P.M. The caller promised information about his father’s death. He was given a location and twenty minutes to get there. It had to be a setup. He didn’t even see the body until the police came through the door.”
Temple was nodding. Cassidy figured he was looking for possible discrepancies in Beau’s story. He led her a few feet away where they couldn’t be overheard.
“The victim is a guy named Jess Milford,” he said. “Do you recognize the name?”<
br />
Beau had mentioned it when he’d called. She nodded. “Milford was one of the people the senator hired me to check into. He thought he was being followed. He said someone had been asking questions. Milford was the foreman of Alamo, the senator’s construction and development company. He was fired a few months back. Senator Reese thought he might be holding some kind of grudge.”
“And now Milford’s dead.”
“Yes, and Beau was set up to take the blame.”
“You seem sure of that. You don’t have any doubt of Beau’s innocence?”
She stiffened. “No. Do you?”
Temple relaxed. “I’ve known Lincoln Cain and Beau Reese for years. I don’t believe Beau killed anyone. We just need to prove it. Or in more legal terms, make sure the police can’t prove it.”
“We need to do better than that. Beau’s reputation will be ruined unless he’s completely exonerated. To do that, we need to find the killer.”
“It would certainly be the best solution.”
“What evidence do they have against him?”
Temple tossed her a look. “Besides being found at the murder scene? The second one in a week?”
“Besides that.”
“The police found the weapon, a Smith and Wesson forty-caliber semiauto. It was on the floor under the kitchen table. The good news is, the gun was wiped clean, no prints, nothing. So far Beau’s only connection to Milford is that the victim worked for the company owned by Senator Reese and his ex-wife.”
Surprise lifted one of her eyebrows. “Charlotte was the senator’s partner in Alamo?”
“That’s right. Beau says he isn’t sure what happened after the divorce, whether one of them bought out the other or they still owned it together.”
She wondered why Beau hadn’t mentioned Charlotte’s involvement, but then they hadn’t had time to work the Milford angle yet.
She glanced toward the door leading to the holding cells, willing Beau to appear. “Will you be posting bail? How long before you can get him out of jail?”
“Chief Warren isn’t ready to charge him. Too many loose ends. In a high-profile case like this, the DA wants to be sure he’s got all his ducks in a row. Doesn’t mean it won’t happen, but until it does, they’re letting him out. Beau has agreed not to leave town.”
The attorney glanced toward the door and smiled. “Here he is now.”
Cassidy turned to see Beau walking toward them. Instead of his usual straight posture, his shoulders slumped and a curl of black hair fell over his forehead. She wanted to go to him, put her arms around his neck and tell him everything was going to be okay.
Instead, she stood quietly next to his attorney. Her heart constricted when he reached for her, pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair.
“I was an idiot,” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t kill Milford. I hope you know that.”
Her hold tightened. “I know you didn’t kill him. You were clearly set up.” A shudder of relief ran through his body. Cassidy leaned back and finger-combed the dark curl away from his forehead.
Beau looked at Temple. “We finished here?”
“For now.”
Beau took her hand. “Let’s get out of here.” The three of them walked out of the police station and headed for the parking lot.
“Why don’t we go back to the house where we can talk,” Nate suggested. “We need to develop a strategy. Unfortunately, I don’t have much time. I’ve got to get back to Dallas.”
“You aren’t staying?” Beau asked.
“They haven’t pressed charges. There’s nothing I can do for you here. I’ll come back if you need me.”
Beau nodded. Cassidy spotted her silver hatchback parked in the lot. She had worried the police would hold it as evidence.
“They’ve already searched the Honda,” Nate said. “They didn’t find anything so they released it.” He pulled her keys from the pocket of his suit coat and held them out to her. “I gather these belong to you.”
She glanced at Beau, whose eyes looked bleaker than she had ever seen them, no longer a beautiful blue but more a faded gray. “Why don’t you drive the Honda, Nate? I’ll drive Beau back to the house in the Lambo. You can follow us—if you can keep up.”
Beau’s head jerked in her direction. He stared at her and something shifted in his features. A slow smile spread over his lips. “The lady’s driving the Lambo. You’ve got the address. We’ll see you back there.”
Nate smiled and just shook his head.
* * *
A soft buzzing sounded on his desk. Mal leaned over and picked up his cell phone, pressed it against his ear. “I’m listening.”
“Two birds with one stone—just like I said. Milford won’t be flapping his mouth and Reese has more trouble than he can handle.”
“I doubt they have enough to convict him, but at least he’ll be out of the way for a while. What about the woman? You think she’ll back off or try to dig deeper?”
“She won’t quit,” Cliff Jennings said. “She’ll press even harder. But with Milford gone, she’ll just run into a bunch of dead ends.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“We handle it.”
“We can’t afford another murder. Sooner or later someone will find a way to connect the dots.”
“So we make it an accident, just like you said.”
“Maybe it won’t come to that,” Mal suggested.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Make sure there are no unexpected complications.” Mal hung up the phone.
Chapter Fourteen
Beau sat down across from Nate at the table in the kitchen of the main house. Since no one had eaten all day, Cassidy fixed ham and cheese sandwiches from food she found in the fridge and made a pitcher of iced sweet tea.
Beau picked at his meal. He should have been hungry, but his appetite had vanished. As they sat around the table, Nate explained what might or might not happen over the next few days and warned them not to speak to anyone outside their immediate circle, especially not the media.
“They’re going to be after you like bloodhounds on the scent of fresh meat, Beau. Just stick to no comment.”
He sighed. “I plan to avoid them as much as I possibly can.”
“It won’t be easy,” Nate said. “You might want to hire some security.”
Beau just nodded.
After Nate had answered his questions, the Tex/Am chopper landed on the golf course to pick the attorney up and whisk him back to Dallas.
“What’d you think of him?” Beau asked as he padded back into the kitchen and returned to his seat at the table.
Cassidy took a sip of iced tea. “I like him. He doesn’t waste time or words, just tells it like it is.”
“Linc knows him better than I do. He says he’s one of the best criminal lawyers in Texas.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe this is happening. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up.”
Cassidy reached across the table and set her hand over his. It was warm and soft and he remembered how smooth her skin had felt when he’d touched her last night. It made him want to touch her again. Arousal slipped through him. He wanted more of her, way more, but he couldn’t think of that now.
Cassidy squeezed his hand. “We’re going to find the killer, Beau. We’re going to prove you’re innocent.”
“How? Where do we even start?” He scrubbed a hand over the beard stubble on his jaw. “We only had three leads to begin with. George Larson has an alibi and Jess Milford is dead. We don’t even know if the same person killed both of them or if it was two different people. Hell, my father was stabbed. Jess Milford was shot in the head.”
“We have a third lead, Beau. Charlotte Mercer Reese—your stepmother. She was your father’s partner in Alamo. I’m surprised you didn’t tell me.”
“It didn’t seem important, not until today. I didn’t even think of it until Nate and I were discussing Milford’s connection to my father. I can’t see Charlot
te as a killer. Besides, she was in Dallas when my father was stabbed.”
“We don’t know that for sure. We haven’t had time to check it out. We also need to look at your cell phone, see if we can figure out who called you last night.”
“The police took it. They’re holding it as evidence.” He ran a finger through the condensation on his half-empty iced tea glass. “I wonder how the caller got my number. It’s supposed to be unlisted.”
“Charlotte would have had it. I know you don’t like the idea, but we really need to talk to her.”
Beau sat forward in his chair. “There’s another possibility, and the closer I look at it, the more plausible it seems.”
“What’s that?”
“My father had my number, and his cell phone is missing. I’m betting the killer took it. If he did, maybe the murder wasn’t the spur-of-the-moment crime of passion it appeared to be.”
Cassidy fell silent as she pondered the notion. “Milford’s death would certainly support that theory. He and the senator were definitely connected. Let me do some digging, see what I can find out about Alamo.”
“Good idea. There’s too damned much we don’t know. Two men are dead and we have no idea who killed them or why.” Frustration rolled through him. “This whole thing just seems to be spiraling out of control.”
“I know this is difficult, Beau, but you’ve got good people around you. I’m good at what I do. Temple is good at what he does. Add to that you’re smart and determined. Together we can put the pieces together. We can do this, okay?”
Some of his frustration eased. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m out of my element here. I need to have some patience and I’ve never been a patient man.” He tossed her a look and felt the faint tug of a smile. “Except in bed. I’m guessing you figured that out last night.”
Cassidy blushed. It was the first time he’d mentioned what had happened between them. If things had turned out the way he’d planned, they would have had plenty of time to talk about it this morning—hell, time to do a lot more than talk.
Cassidy glanced away. Sex was the one thing she seemed shy about. He kind of liked that.
