Small-Town Secrets

by Linda Randall Wisdom

  “Cole Becker, please,” Bree crisply requested.

  “May I say who’s calling?”

  She unclenched her jaw. “Tell him it’s his worst nightmare.”

  Bree ignored the music playing in her ear that was meant to be soothing but only further fueled her anger.

  “Becker.” His voice was like rough velvet in her ears.

  “Nice story here. Sister accusing sister. Accuser’s husband used to be Mattie’s brother-in-law.”

  “You can’t tell me you haven’t investigated cases like that in L.A.,” he said.

  “I worked homicide,” she reminded him. “The victim wasn’t a mutilated lawn.”

  “As if Teresa would do anything like that. She’s a nice lady, isn’t she?” Cole commented. “Hard to believe she and Mattie came from the same family. I can’t believe that Harry would marry Mattie after being married to a nice woman like Teresa, but then Harry’s not all that bright. His idea of a good time is a can of beer and Monday night football.”

  Bree ignored Jinx’s soft whine and his head bumping against her arm.

  “Are you going to show up everywhere I go?” Bree asked.

  “Only the interesting places,” he drawled.

  She gave him her best cop voice. “In this state that can be construed as stalking. Not a nice thing to do, Becker.”

  “And that’s not a nice thing to say, Detective,” he told her. “You have a chance to look over the papers I sent you?”

  “Not yet. I said I’d look them over and I will. Seems you want to add to the list of bad guys I’m dealing with. You’re not a bad guy, are you?”

  “Only if you want me to be.”

  Bree took a deep breath. There was no denying Cole was trying to seduce her over the phone. Not what she wanted. But it sure felt good.

  “Down, boy,” she said dryly.

  “Not what a guy likes to hear.”

  She ignored his mock mournful tone as she disconnected the call.

  Chapter 4

  “You can look at those papers all you want, but it still won’t change a thing,” Mamie scolded as she stopped by Cole’s office to tell him she was leaving for the day.

  He looked up. “Why do you think that?”

  She shook her head. “Darlin’, I don’t know what you think you’re going to do with all that material you’re gathering, but I can tell you one thing. You won’t get the answers you’re seeking.”

  Cole narrowed his eyes. “What do you know about this, Mamie?”

  She waved a hand in the air, her heavily laden charm bracelet making a tinkling sound. “Considering you haven’t said a word, I’ve had to try to figure it out on my own. Which means I don’t know as much as I’d like to.” Suspicion rolled off her like a heavy fog. She speared him with a look that had never failed with her children when they were young; they’d confessed in record time. Sad to say, it never seemed to work with Cole. “What’s really going on, Cole? You lock up file drawers that were never locked before. You’ve encrypted your computer in such a way I don’t think even the CIA could break into it. Come to think of it, you’re more paranoid than the CIA.” She stepped inside and took the chair across from him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  He shook his head. “Nothing’s going on, beautiful.”

  “You can’t pull that on me. I’ve known you since you were a kid with skinned knees. Something’s bothering you.” She made it a statement of fact.

  He leaned back in his chair, the springs squeaking slightly. “Don’t you have a date tonight?” He lifted his coffee cup to his lips.

  “Oliver can wait.” She airily dismissed his question. “It’s not as if he’s going to get lucky tonight. Even if he thinks he will.”

  Cole hurriedly set his cup down before he dropped it. He coughed so hard that Mamie jumped up and ran around to thump his back.

  “Do not say things like that!” he wheezed. “Do you know what pictures that conjures up? Dammit, it’s like thinking of my mother and father…oh God!” He waved her off.

  Mamie chuckled, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “It’d be better if you’d think about you and some nice woman doing the horizontal tango.” Her smile dimmed a little. “Hon, don’t take on something that could land you in trouble. I don’t want to have to break in another boss.” She kissed him on the cheek and left the office.

  “Gee, Mamie, thanks for all that confidence in me,” he called after her. “It’s comforting to know I’ll be missed if anything happens to me.”

  “Don’t worry, we’d hold a real nice memorial for you,” she called back. “Hello, is there something I can help you with?”

  “Only if you’d like to hold your boss down for me.”

  Cole winced as he heard a familiar feminine voice. The biting tone told him she wasn’t there to finally accept his dinner invitation.

  “Detective Fitzpatrick, I suppose.” He could hear his assistant’s dry tone and guessed she had a broad smile on her lips.

  Damn, she was enjoying this way too much.

  “Thank you,” Bree told the woman.

  She appeared in Cole’s office doorway ten seconds later.

  “Right about now I wouldn’t mind finding a way to toss your butt in jail.” Bree entered the office and took the chair opposite him without waiting for an invitation.

  “Women can’t get enough of me.” He laced his fingers together and cradled the back of his head in his hands. “What can I do for you, Detective?” He decided to lean back and enjoy the scenery. She wore black pants and a black knit shirt brightened up by a red jacket with the sleeves rolled up. Her detective’s shield was clipped to her waistband. Her auburn hair was tucked behind her ears, revealing gold hoops. A real no-nonsense lady. “You still mad at me because I didn’t tell you more about Mattie and Teresa?”

  “It wouldn’t have hurt you to tell me.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, but you’re the cop. It’s your job to learn the details.”

  “Thanks a lot,” she said without any sincerity. She looked around. “I’d have thought the owner would warrant nicer digs.”

  “An office with a view would tempt me into looking outside instead of working.”

  She picked up a metal monkey that sat on the corner of his desk. She wound it up and set it back on the desk. The monkey’s paws, holding cymbals, began clapping together. She did the same with the tin duck next to the monkey, which quacked, and a dog that barked.

  “Where’s your model train?” she asked.

  Cole pointed upward. Bree’s gaze lifted to a shelf running along the walls, where a small train remained stationary.

  He shrugged. “Everyone’s got to have a hobby. Mine is collecting antique toys. You get a chance to look through those papers?”

  “Enough to know there has to be more,” she replied. “Where’s the rest?”

  He spun around in his chair and tugged open a file drawer. He pulled out a bulging file folder and dropped it on the desktop.

  Bree looked from the folder to Cole. “You have been busy, haven’t you?”

  “It’s amazing what you get when you ask the right questions.” He smiled briefly.

  She leaned forward and placed her hand on the folder. “Do you trust me with it?”

  “This is a copy,” he told her.

  Bree stood and picked up the folder. “I can’t make any promises,” she warned.

  “I didn’t ask for any.”

  She inclined her head, then walked out of the room.

  Cole’s desire to stay and work disappeared along with Bree. He wasted no time in locking up his desk and getting out of there.

  He was feeling optimistic that he’d be hearing from the lovely detective.

  Bree parked in the garage and tapped the garage door opener before getting out of her vehicle.

  Even with the back door closed, she could hear sounds of an argument. Jinx gave a low whine and pawed at the door. “Serve them right if I put you in working mode,” she muttered, reaching
for the doorknob.

  The minute she stepped into the kitchen she felt as if she’d entered a war zone. Sara stood at the counter with a knife in one hand and a tomato in the other. Her face matched the vegetable in color. Cody stood on a chair, preparing to pull plates out of the cabinet. A grim-faced David stood next to a girl Bree didn’t recognize.

  Sara turned, then spun back to her brother. “You are so busted,” she told him.

  “Bite me,” he sneered.

  “Enough!” Bree didn’t need to raise her voice to gain attention. She turned to David.

  He ignored her as he muttered to the girl next to him, “Let’s go.”

  “Let’s not,” Bree said silkily. “Hi, I’m the crew’s mom, Bree Fitzpatrick. And you are?”

  “Lacey Danvers,” she mumbled, not looking up.

  Bree knew she was feeling like the typical mother as she visually examined the girl and found too much wrong with her. Her skirt was too short, her top too brief and low cut, her pale blond hair too long, flowing halfway down her back. Her makeup was too heavy, and her short nails were painted a deep burgundy that matched her lipstick. Bree could smell the smoky aroma of cigarettes coming from the girl’s clothing.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Lacey.” Bree’s gaze went over the girl’s head and straight to David.

  “We were just going,” he said defiantly.

  “Where exactly are you going?” she asked.

  David didn’t back down. “Lacey and I are going out.”

  Bree shook her head. “Not on a school night. Make plans for the weekend, but not tonight.”

  “Then I guess you wouldn’t mind if I drive Lacey home?” he asked sarcastically.

  She shot him a telling look, a warning any mother would give a child who was verbally getting out of hand. “Since it is after dark, it would be the appropriate thing for you to do.”

  Satisfied he’d follow her rules, she left the kitchen.

  She winced when she heard muttered voices, then the door slam shut. She silently blessed David for having the good sense not to rev the engine as he left the yard.

  “I told him he’d be so in trouble with you for bringing her home when you’re not here,” Sara announced with her usual air of drama when Bree returned to the kitchen. The girl occupied herself placing croutons on the salad with mathematical precision. “And why would he want to go out with her, anyway? Everyone knows what she is.”

  “Sara.” Bree punctuated her warning with a sideways glance in Cody’s direction. She swore her son’s ears were pointed toward them.

  The girl rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows,” she muttered.

  “Not everyone. Cody, why don’t you go wash your hands for dinner,” Bree suggested.

  “Aren’t we going to wait for David?” he asked, clearly afraid if he left he’d miss something important.

  “I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Just go wash your hands.” Bree waited until she heard the bathroom door open before she turned back to her stepdaughter. “All right, Miss Gossip. What exactly does everyone know about Lacey Danvers?”

  Sara lowered her voice. “It’s not gossip. It’s the truth. She’s done it with just about every guy in the senior class. She doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her.”

  Bree was disgusted with herself for even asking. “We don’t know that for sure.”

  “Come on, Mom. David doesn’t care what anyone thinks about him. Which ruins any future I can hope to have at that school.” Sara carried the salad bowl to the table and set it down. “I might as well drop out now.”

  “Save it for drama class, Sara.” At the sound of a buzzer, Bree grabbed pot holders and pulled a baking dish out of the oven. “I don’t want to find out you’ve been spreading these rumors.”

  “I told you, Mom, they’re not rumors. David doesn’t care. This is his senior year. He doesn’t have to worry about three more years there,” Sara groused. “He doesn’t think about others.”

  “Since I doubt you can know the girl all that well, we will dispense with the subject,” Bree ordered. “And we will sit down and have a nice family dinner.” She finally took a good look at her stepdaughter’s attire. “Please tell me you did not wear that to school.”

  Sara looked down. Her yellow top stopped a couple inches above the waistband of her navy capri pants. “There’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing,” she exclaimed, defending her choice.

  “Oh yes, there is something wrong with it. From now on you make sure your midriff is covered when you go to school.”

  “The school lets us wear midriff tops as long as they’re not a sports bra,” Sara argued mutinously.

  “I don’t care what the school allows. I don’t allow it. If I catch you wearing a top like that to school again, I will choose clothing appropriate for a private school,” Bree said in a voice that brooked no nonsense. “I’m certain you know what I mean. Plaid skirts. White blouses with those cute little collars. Knee socks and loafers.”

  Sara blanched as if her stepmother had just announced she would have to wear burlap to school. “You wouldn’t,” she gasped.

  “Sweetheart, please don’t tell me what I will or won’t do. I own your life until you turn eighteen, so I will cheerfully interfere in it until that day. And even after that if I can get away with it.” Bree dug the serving spoon into the casserole dish. “This looks wonderful, honey.” She silently wished her stepdaughter would try a recipe that didn’t have the word casserole in it.

  Sara managed a tight smile.

  “She put broccoli in it,” Cody muttered, accepting his share.

  “You think anything green will kill you.” Sara rolled her eyes.

  “Some green stuff can kill you,” Cody said seriously.

  “But not broccoli,” Bree assured him. “That’s very good for you.”

  “I bet you didn’t believe your mom when she told you it was good for you,” he muttered, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork.

  “Sure, I did,” Bree cheerfully lied. “My mom didn’t believe in doing anything that was bad for me.”

  “Sure, anything to keep us in line,” David muttered, entering the kitchen. He ignored her silent warning glance and sat down at the table. His usually good-looking features were sullen as he spooned a helping of the casserole onto his plate.

  “That was a fast trip,” Bree commented. “I hope you didn’t merely slow down and push Lacey out of the car.”

  He didn’t look up. “She only lives a couple miles from here.”

  From experience, Bree knew not to question him further. She was ready to break her long-standing rule when a beeping sound echoed in the room.

  “Oh yeah, Mom’s totally in the work mode,” David drawled sarcastically. “They beep. She jumps.”

  “Shut up, David,” Sara ordered, keeping an eagle eye on her stepmother as Bree got up and walked over to the counter, where she’d left her pager. She checked the display and picked up the phone.

  “All right. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” she said crisply. As Bree hung up, she looked at the trio watching her. “I have to go out.”

  “What did they do before you arrived?” David stared at her with defiance darkening his eyes.

  Bree shook her head. “It’s my job, David,” she said quietly. “You know I can’t tell them I can’t go out. You all know the drill.” She dropped a kiss on top of Cody’s head, rested her hand briefly on Sara’s shoulder and paused by David’s chair. When he concentrated on his meal as if his life depended on it, she moved on. She retrieved her weapon from its lock box and settled the holster against her back as she headed for the door leading to the garage. “Jinx, time to work.” The German shepherd rose from his spot by the door and padded over to her side.

  Bree felt the weariness settle in her bones as she drove away from the house. Sensing his partner’s unease, Jinx whined and pawed at her shoulder.

  “Damn, why can’t they understand I’m hurting just as much as they are?” she told the dog. “
It hasn’t been all that long, so I can’t expect things to be the way they were. Don’t they think I hate having to leave them alone at night? Going on wasn’t easy, but there was nothing else for us to do but go on.”

  Bree half listened to her police-issue radio as she drove swiftly to what she already knew would be a nasty scene because of the crime that would greet her there.

  Once home, Cole had planned on a night of football and beer—the best kind of night he could spend. Instead, he received a phone call, a voice whispering across the line, and he was out of his house within minutes.

  He wasn’t surprised to find Bree standing on the other side of yellow crime scene tape strung across the driveway of a sprawling ranch-style house. She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of his truck, arched an eyebrow and turned back around. The man she spoke to looked shell-shocked.

  Cole stepped out of the truck and started to walk toward her.

  “Nothing here for you, Becker,” Ted Carson, one of the deputies, said in an officious tone. He walked toward him with a bit of a swagger.

  “How about something for the citizens of Warm Springs?” Cole countered. “What happened?”

  The deputy kept a fierce expression on his face as he hitched up his belt, keeping his hand resting lightly on his holstered weapon. “Shove off, before I run your ass in,” he snarled.

  Bree looked over her shoulder. “Ted, you’re canvassing the neighbors, right?” She made it more a suggestion than a question. She didn’t spare Cole a glance.

  “I’m helping secure the scene,” he explained.

  “It’s secure,” she said firmly. “What we need now is to find out if the neighbors saw or heard anything. You and Roberts start talking to them.” She glanced past him at Frank and one of the rookies hovering on the sidelines. “How much canvassing has Larkin done in the past?”

  “Randy hasn’t been with us all that long. He hasn’t had a chance to do any yet,” Ted replied.

  “Why don’t you take him with you. Have him do some of the questioning, too.”

  Frank Roberts glared at her before he called out to Randy Larkin to follow them, then moved off with Ted.