by Diana Palmer
“Not for long,” she said under her breath.
He leaned back in his chair. “Yes. Not for long.”
“I wish I could come to the wedding,” Gail said heavily. “But they won’t let me out for another few days. I don’t even know how many. The doctor won’t come in here anymore so I can ask him.”
“I saw him in the hall,” Kilraven told her. “He says he’s never coming back in here, because you grill him like a murder suspect.”
“I do not,” she said haughtily. “I only wanted to know when I could go home.”
“It’s the way you asked him,” Kilraven said. “Need to work on your people skills, Rogers,” he pointed out.
“Blow my people skills,” she returned hotly. “I can’t sit around here in my underwear while whoever shot me goes from bar to lowlife bar, bragging about it! I want to lock him up and throw away the key, as soon as I find out who the hell he is!”
“He may not be bragging about it.”
“Of course he’s bragging about it, he shot a cop and got away with it,” she said, smoldering. Her dark eyes narrowed. “But not for long. I’ll track him down if it takes me five years!”
“See?” Kilraven said, nodding toward Winnie’s mother, “that’s why she makes a good detective.”
“Speaking of detectives, are they any closer to finding out who blindsided Marquez?” Gail asked, diverted.
“No,” Kilraven told her. “They’re still working the case. They’ll add yours to it. I’d bet half my pension that they’re connected, somehow.”
“It’s all connected,” Gail said. “The murder of your family, the DB in the Little Carmichael River in Jacobsville, the death of Senator Fowler’s employee, Marquez’s mugging and my wounds. All tied together. Something else, Kilraven—I seriously think we should reopen the case of that young girl who was found murdered just before your family was killed.”
Kilraven’s silver eyes glittered. “You still think there’s a connection. Why?”
“Look at the cases,” she said intently. “Both victims were found in such a condition that only DNA could identify them. The killers have never been found. I heard that the killer left a thermos near the submerged car that the perp was driving. Left it out in the open, wiped clean of prints.” Her eyes narrowed. “Bruce Sinclair, my ex-husband, had one just like it. My question is, how did it wind up in Jacobsville?”
“Did your ex give it to someone?” Kilraven asked.
“I don’t know. But we need to find out. You might go to see that hophead girlfriend of his, the one who was living with him,” Gail suggested. “I don’t know if she’s sober enough to remember anything, but it’s worth a try. Just be careful,” she added. “Somebody’s targeting people connected with this case.”
“This isn’t the time to be careful,” he replied. “It’s time to put the heat on the perps, take the fight into their own territory. I have a hunch that Senator Will Sanders’s brother is up to his neck in these cases.”
Gail nodded. “So do I. How do we prove it?”
Kilraven leaned back in his chair. “I’m going to put the word out on the street that Hank Sanders is being looked at as a potential suspect in two assaults on law enforcement officers. Let’s see what happens.”
Gail’s dark eyes sparkled. “What original thinking.”
“Thank you,” he replied with a chuckle. “It just might flush somebody out.”
“Or he might sacrifice somebody to get the heat off himself,” she replied.
“Or he might tell his brother the senator, and the two of you might be out of a job,” Winnie said solemnly.
“In which case,” Kilraven told her, “we’ll go to Senator Fowler and plead our cases. He had Sanders back off before when he took your mother off the case and busted her back to traffic duty.”
“Senator Sanders had you demoted?” she asked Gail, shocked.
Gail nodded. “I didn’t know it at the time, not until Alice Jones let something slip about her fiancé’s father. That’s Senator Fowler,” she added.
“Yes, Harley’s father.” Winnie nodded.
“Who?” Gail wanted to know.
“Harley Fowler. He works for Cy Parks on his ranch.”
Gail shook her head. “That’s after my time, I’m afraid. I don’t know Mr. Parks.”
“He’s very nice.”
“Nice.” Kilraven chuckled. He glanced at her. “Listen, that old lobo wolf may be married and have kids, but don’t think he’s tame.”
“I forgot,” she told Gail with a smile. “Mr. Parks was a professional soldier, a mercenary, for many years before he settled in Jacobsville. We all thought he was just another rancher until drug lords started setting up camp nearby. He and Dr. Micah Steele and Eb Scott went after the drug lords with Harley, and shut down the whole operation.”
“I did hear about that,” Gail replied, smiling. “It was in all the papers, even on the television news. No interviews, though.”
“That would take magic,” Kilraven commented. “None of those dudes likes publicity, even now that they’ve retired. Well, maybe Eb Scott wouldn’t mind. He runs a state-of-the-art training camp for counterterrorism in Jacobsville. We use his firing range for practice. It’s formidable.”
“So is Mr. Scott, from what we hear.” Winnie laughed. “He got married, too, a few years back. He and his wife have a son, I believe.”
Kilraven had that faraway look in his eyes. He thought of his little girl, the last time he’d seen her. His face hardened. Too many people were getting away with murder. That teenage girl—he and Jon had commented on it.
He looked at Gail and frowned. “You were talking about reopening that case, the one with the teenage girl. That was just before you got shot. Did you mention it to anyone downtown?”
She blinked. “Well, to a couple of people, I guess,” she said.
“The senator’s little brother probably has an ear in your department, otherwise how would the senator have known that you were reopening my cold case?” he asked.
“Good point, Kilraven.”
“So what if this dead teenager is the case they don’t want anyone looking at? What if there’s a connection?”
“I was thinking that, too,” Gail replied.
“You may be onto something. There’s another thing—there was a statutory rape case against Senator Sanders some years ago, remember it?”
Gail frowned. “Yes. A teenage girl, fourteen, I believe. Her father and mother refused to let her testify against him. The charges were dropped.”
“Yes, and the next day, Daddy was driving a new convertible Jaguar. How ironic,” Kilraven said sarcastically.
“That was a case I wanted to reopen,” Gail muttered, “just so I could tell her father what I thought of him.”
Kilraven was adding up clues in his head. “That might be the way to break the case wide-open,” he said, thinking aloud. “Maybe you could talk to the girl.”
Gail nodded slowly. “She might be able to tell me something about how the senator handled her. Or rather how his brother handled her. That might give us a lead into how he operates when he wants something hushed up.”
“We’re getting close, but in a way we didn’t even realize,” Kilraven said. “When you get out of here, that has to be your priority.” His eyes narrowed. “There’s one living witness who could testify to Senator Sanders’s tactics with teenage girls. The teenager would be a woman now. She might talk to you.”
“It’s been some time since the case was dropped,” she mused. “Anything could have happened in the meantime. The girl is grown, and living on her own, I’d imagine. Away from her father’s influence, she really might be willing to talk to me. It’s worth a try.”
“Yes,” Kilraven said. “Well worth it. But first you have to get well.”
She grimaced. “I can’t believe I was stupid enough to let myself get shot.”
“That’s what Marquez keeps saying, although he got beaten up instead of shot
,” Kilraven commented.
“Either way, we’re sidelined,” she said heavily. She shifted and groaned. The pain medicine was wearing off. She reached beside her and jiggled the drip catheter. She sighed. “That’s better. Damned thing gets sluggish from time to time. They put the painkiller right in it,” she added. “Beats having to call them in here four times a day to put it in me manually.” She sighed. “I really hate drugs, you know. But right now, I can’t say much against them. It really helps with the pain.”
“I know,” Kilraven said solemnly. “But it gets better. It just takes time.”
“Time.” She nodded. Her eyes closed. “I’m so tired.”
“You should get some rest,” Winnie said. She stood up and moved to the bed, bending to kiss her mother’s forehead and smooth back the blond hair. “I’ll come back to see you tomorrow. We’ll bring Matt…” She stopped, looking around. “Where is Matt?” she asked, realizing that he hadn’t come in with Kilraven.
“He met a girl about his age in a wheelchair down at the drink machines. They both love video games.” He chuckled. “He was going to have his hot chocolate with her.”
They heard wheels rolling about that time and turned to see Matt coming in the door.
“Sorry,” he told them. “I forgot the time. There was this girl, nice girl. I got her e-mail address,” he added. He grimaced. “If I ever get e-mail, I can send her one,” he corrected.
“I have e-mail,” Kilraven said easily and smiled. “You can use mine.”
“Thanks!” He moved the chair beside Gail’s bed. “Sorry I wasn’t in here. I was supposed to be visiting you. But that girl has an incredible score at Super Mario Brothers,” he exclaimed. “She got busted up in a car wreck, too, but it was really an accident, not deliberate like mine. Are we leaving already?” he added when Winnie slipped into her coat.
“Your mother’s tired,” Kilraven said gently. “She needs rest, so she can get well quicker.”
“Yes, I do,” Gail agreed. She smiled and held out her arms to hug Matt. “You be good for your brothers and sister,” she said.
“I’m being very good, aren’t I, sis?”
It took Winnie a minute to realize it was her he was addressing. She flushed a little and laughed. “Yes, you are, little brother,” she replied, and felt warm inside with the words.
He grinned. “Trying to be, anyway,” he amended. “We’ll see you again tomorrow. Won’t we?” he asked the other adults.
“You bet,” Kilraven promised.
“See you tomorrow, Mom,” he told Gail. He hesitated. “You know, they’re right about the smoking,” he said unexpectedly serious. “I know you do it outside, so it won’t affect me. But it’s affecting you. I don’t want to lose you. See?”
She held out her arm, fighting tears, and hugged him close. She drew in a long breath. “Okay, kid. If that’s what you want, I’ll do it.”
“Really?”
“Really.” She looked past him at the two adults. “Just don’t be surprised when you all have to come and bail me out of jail for climbing walls and threatening other police officers.”
Kilraven pursed his lips. “There are new products that deal with the side effects.”
“I could buy a yacht for what they cost,” Gail muttered.
“That isn’t a problem, and don’t argue,” Winnie said at once. She gave her mother a firm look.
“Well!” Gail exclaimed. She glanced at Kilraven. “She’s me in twenty years, huh?”
Kilraven nodded.
“No wonder he’s planning on a short marriage,” she told Winnie.
Winnie laughed. It was easier to joke about it than face it. “You get well. We’ll see you again, soon.”
“Take care.”
The others said their goodbyes, too, and left.
Winnie ruffled Matt’s hair. “You’d better be good, or I’ll tell Boone,” she threatened.
“Horrors!” he said, but he laughed.
Winnie looked up at Kilraven and smiled. “Thanks for driving us.”
He slid his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “I’m not overburdened with work right now. I enjoyed it. Your mother’s in a class of her own.”
“Yes,” Winnie said proudly. “She is.”
THE WEDDING WAS A quiet affair. Boone and Keely stood up with Winnie and Kilraven, while Matt and Clark and a few local citizens who’d heard about the wedding filled the benches near the doors outside the probate judge’s office.
The judge, a woman, looked from one of them to the other. “You ready?” she asked.
They nodded.
“Please join hands.” She looked at her book. “Do you, Winona Sinclair, take McKuen Kilraven for your husband…”
“McKuen.” Winnie said it softly, surprised.
“I was named for a famous poet,” he said, glowering at her.
She smiled. “I noticed. It suits you. I like it.”
He smiled back. “Thanks.”
“Ahem.”
They glanced at the probate judge.
“Sorry,” Winnie said.
She laughed, shaking her head, then she continued.
And they were married. Kilraven bent to brush his mouth gently over Winnie’s, but not with any great enthusiasm. He looked uncomfortable in his dark suit, distinguished and almost untouchable. Winnie was certain he was remembering his first wedding, and she was positive it wasn’t in some probate judge’s office. Probably his first wife had had all the trimmings, including a beautiful gown and flowers and…
“Congratulations, Mrs. Kilraven!” Keely laughed, and hugged her.
“Mrs. Kilraven,” Winnie said, shocked at the sound of the name that was now hers.
“Hey, that’s you,” Keely teased.
“Sorry. I was just thinking,” she replied, and then flushed. She couldn’t admit she’d been regretting her wedding.
“Don’t,” Keely advised. “Just be happy.”
“It’s only temporary,” Winnie whispered.
“Is it?” Keely replied in a whisper, and winked.
Boone bent to kiss his sister’s cheek. “You made a pretty bride,” he said, admiring her neat figure in the white suit she was wearing with a pillbox hat and a tiny veil.
She was clutching a small bouquet that she’d had made up, of white roses and baby’s breath. Kilraven hadn’t even noticed her suit or the bouquet. She was certain he hadn’t thought of offering her one. He was somber and quiet and introspective. She knew it wasn’t the happiest day of his life. But it was exciting to her. She was married! Even if it only lasted a few weeks, she was Kilraven’s bride. She smiled so radiantly that the newspaper photographer covering the private affair was almost too stunned by her beauty to snap the picture. But he managed.
11
Kilraven pulled himself together and tried to stop thinking back to his first wedding. He should have offered Winnie a bouquet, at least, but he hadn’t even done that. He’d been resentful that he had to marry her just to question a senator’s wife. It was his own idea; why was he blaming her for it?
No, the pain came when he remembered Monica walking toward him down the aisle, dressed in a lavender gown with a bouquet of lilac. It wasn’t traditional, but neither was she. She’d been lovely. The most beautiful woman alive, with her long wheat-colored hair and her laughing blue eyes. He’d been in love. Deeply in love. The wedding had been the happiest day of his life, at least until little Melly was born. Then his life began, even as Monica was finding other partners for her sensual adventures. Kilraven had lived for his little girl. Until that night…
He heard voices around him and realized that he’d been staring into space while people were trying to congratulate him. He smiled and returned handshakes. He wasn’t being fair to Winnie. Whatever his own feelings, she was in love with him. It wasn’t right to treat her so coolly on her wedding day.
He moved to her side and curled her fingers into his. She looked up at him, surprised.
“You reall
y do look beautiful,” he said softly, studying the way her long, thick, wavy blond hair radiated around her face, the way her dark eyes seemed to smolder in her face with its oval shape and peaches-and-cream complexion.
She flushed. “Thanks,” she stammered.
He bent and brushed his mouth over her forehead, just below the tiny veil she’d pushed up when they were saying their vows. “I should have offered to buy you a bouquet,” he whispered. “That’s the groom’s part of the deal.”
She smiled. “It’s okay. I had this one made up.”
“I like it.”
“Thanks.”
“Well, where’s the reception?” Cash Grier asked, moving up to the front of the office.
Kilraven blinked. “We aren’t having a reception.”
“I guess I can go home, then.” He chuckled. “It’s only at the receptions that we have to arrest people.”
“What are you talking about?” Winnie asked.
“Don’t you remember Blake Kemp’s wedding?”
“Oh,” she said, nodding. “Yes, I do. Cake and punch went flying and several of the witnesses ended up in jail.”
He grinned. “Best reception I was ever at,” he commented. He glanced at Kilraven. “You’re sure you’re not having a reception?”
“Sorry. No time.”
“Oh,” Cash mused. “In a hurry, are you?”
Kilraven glowered at him. “It’s not that sort of marriage, and please get your mind above your belt!”
“Whatever do you think I meant?” Cash asked with an angelic expression. “I was only going to offer to give you a police escort out of town. All the way to San Antonio, if you like.”
“No, thank you,” Kilraven said firmly. “You’d have Hayes send Macreedy, and we’d all end up driving the back roads of Florida or some other state hoping to be rescued.”
Cash shook his head. “You have a suspicious mind.”
“Absolutely.” Kilraven nodded.
“Well, I do wish you the best.” He extended his hand. “I’ve enjoyed working with you, for the most part. But there were times I wanted to put you in a barrel and float you down to Mexico.” He added with a grin, “I guess we can overlook those times.”
