Taylor thought of the police corruption incident Hunter had been involved with and the enemies he had made because of reporting it. What if Dru’s story was linked to it somehow, and if the corruption went deeper than just that isolated case? If Dru were about to go public with a story about police corruption, any number of people could have a motive to want her dead—and the means to arrange things behind the scene so that someone else took the blame for it.
“What about death threats?” Taylor asked. “My brother says he gave Dru his personal weapon because she had received some kind of warning.”
Stacy shrugged. “Could be. She received death threats on a regular basis. Dru’s approval ratings with viewers might have been through the roof but the sources she reported on weren’t all that crazy about her.”
“Did you see or hear any threats made against her?” Wyatt asked.
“Nothing stands out. Not that I can remember anyway. Look, it’s a hazard of the job, especially for an aggressive, in-your-face reporter like Dru. I’ve got a whole drawer full of my own lovely collection of angry letters. Most of the time you just have to shrug off the crazies. But if she was worried enough about it to talk her big bad cop boyfriend about protection, maybe this time she thought somebody was serious.”
“You never saw her with the gun in her possession though?” Taylor pressed.
Stacy laughed. “Sorry I can’t make it that easy for you. Don’t you think I would have come forward during the original investigation or the trial if I’d had that kind of information to share? I’m not saying I believe your brother was telling the truth about giving Dru his gun, just that it wasn’t completely improbable.”
She took one more bite of pizza—leaving most of it on her plate—swallowed another sip of cola and stood up. “As fun as this has been, I’m going to have to run. I’m doing a live feed on the six o’clock broadcast. Sorry to cut things short. Thanks for the pizza—and remember, I’m going to want an exclusive on this. Call me if you think you have anything I could use.”
This last was directed at Wyatt—and Taylor had a pretty good idea Stacy was talking about sharing more than just information.
She pushed away her unreasonable jealousy as the reporter walked out of the pub. She had no right to feel territorial about Wyatt. They had shared one kiss, that was all. Okay, so her toes still hadn’t uncurled three days later but she preferred to focus on the woman’s revelations, not on her own unwilling attraction to Wyatt.
Of course, it was a little hard to ignore that attraction when the two of them were sitting together on one side of the table. She thought of moving to the other side but she knew that would look foolish and only bring more attention to the sudden physical tension she, at least, sensed simmering between them.
“Do you see what I mean?” she said to Wyatt, trying hard to ignore the heat radiating from him. “The police should have followed up on these leads. Any number of people had far more motive to kill Dru Ferrin than Hunter did—the father of her baby, for one, if she really threatened to go to his wife about their affair. Whoever she was about to implicate in her big story, for another. Whoever made those death threats. The list is endless.”
“We don’t know much more now than we did an hour ago,” he pointed out.
Taylor bristled. “We know Dru’s lover was married. We know she might have been doing a story about police corruption. We know she had received death threats in the past so it was perfectly plausible that she could have asked Hunter for a weapon.”
“Speculation. I’m afraid that’s all we’ve got. Still, I would like to know how seriously the police considered these other possibilities before focusing on Hunter.”
“So would I.” She was quiet for a moment. “So where do we go from here?”
“Good question. I told you my brother is an FBI agent. I told him about the case and he offered to take a look at the case file, see if anything unusual leaps out. Maybe he can dig around and see if there were any murmurs of a big police corruption story around the time of the murders.”
At his offer, any lingering annoyance vanished and it took all her willpower to keep from flinging her arms around his neck. “That would be wonderful!” she exclaimed.
“I don’t know that he’ll find anything,” Wyatt warned.
“I can’t tell you how much your help means to me.”
His gaze met hers and something in those grey-green depths reminded her forcibly of the kiss they had shared. For just an instant, she was back in her office, pressed tightly against her desk, her body wrapped around him.
She inhaled a sharp breath, willing the image away.
“I’d better go.” Her voice sounded low, husky, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “I’ve got class tonight.”
She thought he might have looked disappointed that she was rushing off, but he quickly veiled whatever emotion flickered in those eyes.
“I’ll be in touch to let you know if Gage comes up with any leads.”
“Great. And I’ll keep you updated on my end of things. Thank you again.”
With one last hesitant smile, she hurried from the pub before she did something absolutely stupid like kiss that mouth she’d been dreaming about for days.
* * *
“I wish you could come with me.”
Taylor forced a smile for Kate, though she was afraid her skin might crack with the effort. “I would love to. You know I would—you’re going to have a wonderful experience. But I don’t think the other doctors in Operation Care would be all that crazy about having a med school dropout hanging around taking up space at their Guatemala clinics.”
Kate folded her favorite pair of jeans and tucked them into her already-bulging suitcase. “They would be lucky to have you.” Her voice rang with conviction. “You’re a better doctor even without a degree than most of the residents at the hospital.”
Taylor smiled at her roommate, touched by her loyalty, however misguided. She meant what she said—she would love to be going along with Kate. In just over an hour, she was leaving for a two-week trip with a group of doctors and nurses to provide medical care to poverty-stricken villages in central America.
This was Kate’s second trip to Guatemala—the second of what Taylor knew would be many. Her last trip six months ago had been one of those life-changing moments for Kate. Taylor knew she loved the chance to help others, to relieve suffering among some of the most poor and humble people on earth. When she came back, Kate had glowed for weeks.
That ugly envy Taylor hated so much crawled around inside her skin. While Kate was bringing hope and healing, Taylor was stuck here with her law books and her endless briefs and this hopeless, quixotic quest to save her brother’s life.
She wanted so much to experience the pure joy of helping others, with no expectation of reward other than a grateful smile. With great effort, she did her best to hide her envy. She would hate it if Kate had even the tiniest suspicion how very much she wanted to stow away in that suitcase.
“Be careful,” Taylor said with a teasing smile. “Don’t let any sexy Latin Romeo steal your heart so you won’t want to come back.”
“Oh, like that will happen.” She paused, and the laughter in her eyes faded, replaced by sudden concern. “Anyway, I think your heart’s in far more danger than mine right now.”
To her chagrin, Taylor felt heat creep across her skin. “Mine? Don’t worry, my heart is perfectly safe.”
“Is it?” Kate asked, doubt in her voice.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Oh no reason. When is your next meeting with our favorite sexy author?”
She could feel the heat of her blush turn into an inferno and knew by the sudden knowing look Kate gave her that she must be bright red.
“Tomorrow. He called a few hours ago to arrange a meeting. His brother Gage works for the FBI. He knows a sergeant at the police department who wants to talk to us. Apparently this cop wasn’t happy with the investigation and never
believed Hunter was guilty. When he found out Wyatt was writing a book about the case he talked to Gage, who arranged for us to talk to him about what he knows.”
Her explanation wound down. “What is it? What’s the matter” she asked when she saw Kate stopped packing and was standing in the middle of the floor, a belt in her hands.
“What did you say was the name of Wyatt’s brother?”
“Gage. Gage McKinnon. Do you know him?”
“I don’t know. That name sure seems familiar. I wonder if I’ve met him through the hospital somehow.”
“Maybe you could have bumped into him during an abuse investigation or something.”
“Maybe.” She shook her head a little as if to clear it. “Don’t you hate that, when you hear a name of someone you’re sure you’ve met but you have no idea where or when? It drives me crazy. Anyway, as worried as I am about you, I’m so thrilled to see you making progress on Hunter’s case.”
“It seems like a lot of things are happening after so many months of feeling like I was the lone voice in the wilderness proclaiming his innocence. I still don’t know if it’s enough, though. Martin still doesn’t believe we have sufficient evidence for appeal and definitely not enough to get a new trial at this point.”
“You finally talked to him?”
“Yes. He returned my call yesterday after canceling our appointment again this week. I told him about Wyatt helping me and the progress we were making. ‘It sounds promising,’ he said. That was about it.”
“I don’t imagine he was too thrilled about that. Martin’s a little territorial when it comes to you and Hunter.”
Taylor knew Kate didn’t like Martin—she thought him arrogant and self-absorbed, but even she had to admit he was a good attorney. “He was one of our father’s closest friends. He’s protective, that’s all.”
Kate looked unconvinced but she didn’t press the matter. She snapped shut the lid of her suitcase then hefted it to the floor. “I guess that’s everything.”
“I hope so because I don’t think you could fit so much as one more a tube of lip balm in that thing.”
Kate laughed. She opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted when Belle gave one sharp bark just seconds before Taylor heard the rustle of mail in the old-fashioned slot in the front door. She should have known. Belle rarely barked—only quick greetings for the newspaper carrier and for the long-suffering mail carrier.
“Will you check that?” Kate asked. “I was hoping my paycheck would be here before I left so I could deposit it on the way to the airport.”
“Of course.”
Being envious of Kate for this opportunity was a normal emotion, she told herself as she walked through the house toward the mail slot in the front door. If she wasn’t envious, then she could worry. That would mean she had completely given up her dream of being a doctor.
The only way law school was bearable was if she reminded herself it was only temporary, that someday, when Hunter was vindicated and was out of prison, she would be free to take her hopes and dreams from the shelf, polish them up and try again.
In the meantime, she would do her best to hide how very much she longed to be in Kate’s size-seven shoes right now.
She scooped up the mail from the floor and quickly leafed through the bills and junk mail. “Your paycheck’s here,” she called out.
“That’s a relief,” Kate replied from the other room. “My poor Visa can’t take much more abuse right now. Anything else good?”
Taylor stopped at an odd piece of mail, a small manila envelope with no return address and her name typed on the cover. Curious about it, she left the other mail on the hall table and used a fingernail to open the seal.
She wasn’t sure why but sudden foreboding flickered through her. She shrugged it off and pulled out the contents.
For one shocked second, she could only stare as her heartbeat seemed to slow then burst into hyperspeed. Confusion and revulsion and thick, jabbing fear fought within her.
She knew this picture, had seen it as evidence during the trial, though she had hoped never to have to see it again. The image was seared into her memory—two women, one sickly, frail to the point of emaciation, lying in bed, the other, pregnant and blond, sprawled across her as if trying to protect her. There was blood everywhere—on the bed, on the wall, great pools of it on the floor.
The crime-scene photos of Dru Ferrin and her mother was stark, horrible. A nightmare she had tried hard to forget.
What was one doing in her mailbox?
She drew in a deep breath trying to force oxygen back into her lungs. There was a message for her, she realized, typed in heavy black letters on a piece of plain paper.
YOUR BROTHER IS A MURDERER. LET HIS VICTIMS REST IN PEACE, UNLESS YOU WANT TO END UP LIKE THEM.
She was still trying to force her mind to wade through the horror when Kate walked into the living room, suitcase in tow.
“I guess I’ll see you in ten days, then.” Her roommate grinned. “I would tell you to take advantage of having the house to yourself by engaging in a little recreational activity with the sexy and charming Wyatt McKinnon, except I know you won’t take my advice.”
Taylor barely heard her. Who had sent the letter? Who wanted her to stop the investigation?
Fear slithered through her, black and slick and ugly. She drew in another deep breath then realized Kate was waiting for some kind of response.
She tried to force her scattered thoughts to coalesce but she didn’t act fast enough, apparently, judging by the sudden concern on Kate’s features.
“What’s wrong? You’re looking about two shades away from hypoxic right now.”
She couldn’t tell her, Taylor realized. Kate would cancel her entire trip to stay home with her if she had any idea about the threat.
Maybe she and Wyatt had touched a nerve somehow—maybe they were closer to the truth than either of them realized.
“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” She forced a smile, hoping she was a good enough actress to fool Kate for five more minutes. “You need to eat something. Would you like me to heat you some soup?”
As a diversionary tactic, her question couldn’t have worked better. “I don’t have time.” Kate glanced at her watch. “Jeez, I’m supposed to be at the airport in twenty minutes. I’ll pick something up when I get there.”
“Make sure you do. Who knows when you’ll have a chance to eat again. Airlines don’t even serve peanuts anymore.”
“Yes, Mother.” Kate grinned at her then rushed for the door, dragging her heavy suitcase behind her.
“Be safe,” Taylor murmured to her friend.
“Right back at you, honey.”
Kate shoved the suitcase into the trunk of her Honda then climbed in and drove away. Taylor stood in the doorway watching her go, the grisly envelope in her hand and cold fear in her stomach.
CHAPTER 7
“Okay, spill. What’s going on?”
Wyatt held the question in check as long as he could but it finally erupted ten minutes after he pick up an edgy, ill-at-ease Taylor.
She shifted from her perusal of the leaves drifting down in front of his Tahoe to look at him. In her blue eyes he saw wariness and those dark, uneasy shadows.
“Nothing’s out of the ordinary. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you’re about as jittery as spring calves on branding day.”
“I’m fine. Just a little preoccupied, that’s all.”
“Is that why you haven’t said three words to me since I picked you up?” he asked.
“I believe I just said several more than three,” she said primly.
Wyatt grimaced. “Thank you for pointing that out, Counselor.”
She almost smiled but it slid away before she would give it a chance to form.
“I’m sorry. It’s been a…crazy few days. I’ve got a million things running through my mind today. It’s almost midterms and I have so much work to do.”
&n
bsp; “Oh. And here I thought maybe you were nervous because you couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss.”
She blinked, obviously astonished that he would finally bring up the subject they had both been skirting around for nearly a week.
“I’ve completely forgotten about that,” she responded quickly—so quickly that his admittedly fragile male ego might even have believed her and been shattered…except for the rosy blush that spread from her neck to the roots of her auburn hair.
He swallowed a smile instead. “Have you now?”
She refused to meet his gaze. “Believe it or not,” she snapped, “I do have other things to do besides sit around thinking about…about kissing you. I do have a life.”
He had a life too, and plenty of other things that should be occupying his mind—his book deadline, the publicity tour his agent was pushing for, his ranch and his tangled family relationships.
He knew he should be busy thinking about all kinds of other topics but he couldn’t seem to work his mind around much else but that kiss they had shared.
He wasn’t sure how he had contained himself from trying for another taste during their interview with the reporter earlier in the week. He might have tried when they were alone after the interview if Taylor hadn’t run away so quickly.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” he surprised himself by admitting. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”
“Well, cut it out,” she mumbled.
He laughed at her command. “I’ll do my best,” he lied. In truth, though he recognized the danger of it, he liked thinking about it, remembering her sweetly uninhibited response. Wondering when he might have the chance to taste that sultry mouth again.
“If you’re not thinking about the kiss, what’s troubling you? And don’t lie and say everything’s fine.”
Her gaze shifted from him to the changing landscape out the window, then back to him. He had the strong feeling she wanted to confide in him but he could almost watch her change her mind.
“I’m struggling with a couple of my classes,” she answered, with what he was sure was a lie. “That’s all. My toughest class in med school was a piece of cake compared to some of this coursework.”
Lost in Cottonwood Canyon & How to Train a Cowboy--Lost in Cottonwood Canyon Page 8
