by Mallory Kane
It was one of Kit’s voluntary firemen. He carried the camera and the crime-scene kit.
“Hey, Joe. What’re you doing with that stuff? Where’s Shelton?” Cade asked him.
“He called Chief Haydel and asked him to get the kit and the camera over here to you. Apparently Shelton had an accident.”
“An accident? Is he all right?”
The fireman nodded. “The chief told me Kathy Adler ran into him.”
“Oh, yeah?” Cade perked up.
“Apparently she plowed into the side of the squad car, then took off in that monster SUV of hers. The collision ripped a tire so he couldn’t drive it. The Chief said to tell you she was coming from the direction of the Visitor Center.”
Cade’s brain raced. So Kathy had been in the vicinity of the Visitor Center right around the time Sheryl Posey was shot.
Had Kathy shot her? Ralph had certainly been telling the truth about that. There was no way he could have shot Sheryl and then made it around to the clearing so fast.
Cade took the camera and kit from Joe and thanked him.
“No problem, sir. Need me to stick around and help?”
“No,” Cade said. “Go ahead.” He quickly processed the crime scene and taped it off. While he was working, Shelton called and asked if everyone was okay.
Cade filled him in.
“Well, if that don’t beat all, Cade,” Shelton said. “I’m heading over to Mrs. Adler’s house in my pickup. I figure she’ll go home eventually, if she doesn’t wrap herself around a tree first.”
“Be careful,” Cade warned him. “She may be armed.”
“Armed? Kathy Adler?”
“Several shots came from the rise over near the Visitor Center. Kathy could have been involved in the shooting.”
“Is this connected to Fred’s girl’s death?”
“I’m afraid so. When you question Kathy about the collision, don’t mention the shooting. I don’t have any proof yet.”
“You got it, boss.”
Cade hung up, took one last glance around the cordoned-off crime scene, and then headed up the path toward his truck. Just as he rounded the last curve of the path, a soft, firm, sweet-smelling someone ran into him.
It was Laurel. He reached out to steady her and caught her bandaged hand.
She winced.
“Sorry,” he muttered. He looked her over from head to toe. She looked a hundred percent better than she had a few minutes ago. The EMTs had bandaged her ankle and her hand. She’d managed to wash her face, getting her hair damp in the process. It curled around her face. She looked fresh and sweet and tired, and very unlike an FBI agent. His heart twisted but he ignored it.
“Stitches?”
She looked at her hand. “A couple.”
“I thought you were going to the hospital with the EMTs.”
“My car’s here.”
“Right. I’m supposed to believe they released you?”
She waved a hand. “I told them I was fine.”
“So they didn’t release you.” His voice was gruffer than he intended it to be, but he couldn’t shake the vision of her with Langston’s gun buried in her neck.
She could have been killed because he hadn’t had the foresight to put his damn cell phone on vibrate.
Right now he was feeling exposed and vulnerable. He wasn’t ready to make apologies and admit how afraid he’d been that he couldn’t save her.
So he decided the best defense was a strong offense. “Why the hell did you leave the house after I told you not to?”
“Because Sheryl called and told me someone was going to kill her.”
“You fell for that? You should have waited for me.”
“I didn’t fall for anything, Dupree. After what happened to Debra, I couldn’t risk waiting. For all I knew you were trapped in the fire or shot by whoever lured you out. When I couldn’t reach you, I called Fred to meet me at the parking lot, but he didn’t wait. He came down here by himself and Sheryl got the drop on him. He managed to knock the gun out of her hand, but then she conked him with the tree branch.”
“Sorry I didn’t hear your call. The sirens were blasting and the fire was roaring—”
Laurel held up a hand. “You got here in time. But what I want to know is—why didn’t you take the shot?”
Cade couldn’t meet her gaze right then. If he did, she’d know why. Trying to protect his heart, he gave her the stock answer. “I couldn’t get a clean shot.”
“That’s bull. You had him before he twisted. You should have taken it.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one, Special Agent Gillespie.”
She frowned. “Fine. If you’ll let me know when you plan to be back at your place, I’ll swing by and get my stuff. I should move back to the bed-and-breakfast.”
Cade saw the shadows in her hazel eyes. Did she want him to ask her to stay? Because he couldn’t. Not now that he knew how he felt about her. He’d had relationships—a couple of fairly serious ones—but he’d never felt like this before.
He didn’t know how to deal with it.
“You don’t have to move out,” he muttered.
Her gaze faltered. “I think it’s best.”
She sounded cold as ice. Did she regret what had happened between them now that the danger was over?
“I’ll run by and let you in. Then I have to question Ralph and deal with Kathy.”
“Kathy?”
He nodded wearily. “Yeah. She was speeding and ran her car into the squad car and then left the scene. Shelton said she was coming from the direction of the Visitor Center.”
Laurel’s eyes shone. “Really? Oh, my gosh, it was Kathy who shot Sheryl?”
“Looks like it.”
“I have got to hear what she has to say. She’s up to her ears in this mess.”
He nodded. “I agree. But you should take it easy—”
She stepped in front of him, her back stiff. “Look, Dupree, I don’t need to take it easy. I can handle myself. So I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t try to tell me what to do.” She turned and stalked down the path toward the parking area.
Her indignant stalk would have been more impressive and less amusing if she hadn’t been limping, but oddly, Cade didn’t feel like smiling. To his chagrin, the lump was back in his throat.
Chapter Thirteen
Laurel packed her suitcase for the third time in the three days she’d been in Dusty Springs. This time was the hardest, and not because her right hand was bandaged.
She stopped in the middle of zipping her suitcase and stared at the open bedroom door. Her heart squeezed so tightly in her chest that it physically hurt.
Cade had made love to her in that room. He’d held her and touched her and filled her with an ecstasy akin to nothing she’d ever felt before. She’d finally gotten the one thing she’d always wanted. Cade Dupree.
Back when she was sixteen, she’d been sure that if he’d just pay attention to her, her life would be complete.
Well, he’d paid attention to her. Plenty of attention. And when she left here this time, she wouldn’t just be leaving behind a schoolgirl crush. She’d be leaving her heart.
She walked over to the bedroom door. The unmade bed still held the imprint of their bodies. She couldn’t leave it like that. It would be like leaving a love note behind. She straightened the sheets and the blanket, letting her hands linger on the pillows. She felt the sting of tears. Her throat ached. Coming back to Dusty Springs had let her realize a dream. The fact that she’d be leaving the dream behind was probably fitting.
Cade had only known her for three days. Prior to that, she’d been nothing but a face in a yearbook. He couldn’t possibly care for her as much as she cared for him. He was part of her past. It was probably best that he remain there.
Tears slipped down her cheeks, but that was okay. It was only natural to cry at goodbyes.
She walked around the bed to smooth one last wrinkle and almost knocked he
r knee on the bedside table drawer. It was ajar. She started to push it shut but the edge of a framed picture caught her eye.
Oh, no. Don’t go snooping.
She was going to look. Yes, she really had sunk that low. Cade was at Three Springs Hospital, checking on Sheryl and Ralph. There was no way he would be back any time soon.
Disgusted with herself, she slid the drawer open. The picture was of Cade’s high school graduation. Cade’s dad had his arm around Cade’s shoulder and Cade was looking at him with pride and love. On his dad’s other side, James’s gaze lingered somewhere beyond the range of the camera. He looked terminally bored.
“Oh, Cade,” she whispered, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “You were never in James’s shadow.” She started to put the picture back in the drawer. But something else caught her eye. An open envelope with the FBI’s seal on it.
Close the drawer, she commanded herself. But instead she reached for the envelope. Great, Gillespie. You’re officially a stalker now.
She slid the sheets of paper out of the envelope and unfolded them. It was his assignment letter from the FBI.
Speaking of dreams left behind. Holding her breath to keep from sobbing, she scanned it quickly.
A noise penetrated her brain. It was a key turning in the front door lock. She froze.
Busted.
Do it, she commanded herself. Toss the envelope and picture back into the drawer, kick it shut and pretend to be making the bed.
But she couldn’t move as footsteps crossed the hardwood floor.
“Laurel!”
“Mr. Dupree!” It was Cade’s dad.
“I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I—I shouldn’t be. I’m packing to leave right now.”
He eyed the letter in her hand. “So Cade tells me y’all may have cracked the case.”
“I think so. As soon as we get the evidence back from the FBI lab, we should be able to wrap it up. Sheryl Posey gave Cade her statement this morning. She witnessed Ralph choking Wendell before he strung him up.”
She spoke nervously and quickly. It took a lot of will-power not to hide the hand holding Cade’s FBI letter behind her back.
“We’re sure that the fibers under Debra’s nails will turn out to be a match for Ralph’s pants. Luckily he wears custom-tailored suits, so the match should be easy. If they’re a match, we should have him on two counts of murder—Debra’s and Wendell Vance’s.”
Mr. Dupree nodded. “Sounds like everything’s working out fine. So—” He smiled. “Wha-cha got there?”
“I—uh—” she stammered.
“You were snooping?” he asked.
Her face burned like fire. Looking down at her feet, she nodded.
“It’s only natural. You’re a cop. It’s what we do. So wha’d you find?”
Mr. Dupree stepped forward and took the envelope from her fingers. His smile faded and he shook his head. “I wanted to tell Cade he didn’t have to give up the FBI and come back here, but the first few weeks after my stroke I couldn’t talk at all. I never expected him to take over my job. I always thought Fred would be Chief after me.”
“What about James?”
Mr. Dupree looked up. “You never knew James, did you?”
“No.” She didn’t bother telling him about her humiliating experience and James’s part in it.
“That boy could charm anybody into doin’ anything. Never listened to anybody. Never thought there was anything he couldn’t do.”
Laurel’s heart was throbbing with pain. Pain for the man who’d lost his first-born son. Pain for his living son, who’d never been able to make up for James dying.
“I’m sure you were devastated when he died.”
“Yes. But it was typical James. He was hot-shotting in a helicopter and crashed.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.”
Mr. Dupree smiled sadly. “He thought he was immortal.”
Laurel’s heart squeezed in sympathy. She dropped her gaze, and saw what he had in his hand. A box of dark chocolate-covered cherries.
“So you’re leaving?” he asked.
“I think I’d better.”
“Maybe so.”
Laurel stared at him in surprise.
“All I’m saying is Cade takes everything to heart. He doesn’t deserve to be hurt. And he’s the only son I have left.”
Laurel drew in courage with a deep breath. “Why do you call him that, Mr. Dupree?”
“’Cause that’s what he is. It reminds me that he’s the most precious thing in my life.” He smiled at her.
“Does he know he is?” she asked.
The elder Dupree looked thoughtful. “I always thought so. But considering the chocolate cherry misunderstanding, maybe I need to talk to him, too.”
“The chocolate cherry misunderstanding?”
Mr. Dupree lifted a hand. “Never mind. It’s a long story.”
Laurel smiled sadly. “I think I know the gist of it.”
He frowned at her. “Oh, yeah? Maybe you know my boy better than I thought you did.”
Maybe. Laurel’s heart twisted painfully. “Thank you for everything, Mr. Dupree—”
“Dad—”
Laurel whirled at the sharp word.
Cade stood in the open door. He looked from his dad to Laurel and back.
“What the hell?” he asked, glaring at his dad.
“Cade, this is my fault,” Laurel started, but his dad interrupted her.
“Son, I brought you something. And Laurel and I were talking about the case—and the FBI.”
“Dad—” Cade’s pained voice held a warning.
Mr. Dupree sent Laurel a glance. Understanding, she slipped around them and headed for the front door. Behind her, she heard Cade.
“Dark chocolate cherries? What the hell? I thought they were James’s favorite.”
“As I recall, you loved ’em, but you’d never fight James. You always let him bully you.”
Laurel pulled out her cell phone and dialed a familiar number. She had an important question to ask her boss, Mitch Decker.
As she eased the door closed, she heard Mr. Dupree’s voice change.
“Cade, son,” he said. “We need to talk.”
THE NEXT MORNING, Cade was up early. He hadn’t been able to sleep the night before. He’d been shocked and angry when he’d found his dad and Laurel in his house. They’d gone through his stuff. They’d talked about him. He felt betrayed by both of them.
Damn Laurel for coming back here and turning his life upside down. He’d forgotten about the FBI. He’d been happy back in Dusty Springs before she showed up.
He was a liar. It hadn’t taken her to remind him of everything he’d given up. She’d just emphasized how long it had been. He always thought that one day he’d go back and pick up where he’d left off when James died.
But meeting Laurel made him realize he’d not only put his dreams on hold, he’d put his whole life on hold. Hell, he rarely even dated anymore.
He’d done it all for his dad, but yesterday evening his dad informed him in no uncertain terms that he didn’t need Cade’s constant attention. He’d told him a lot of other things, too. Things they should have talked about years ago.
Things guys would rather have a root canal than discuss. But at least now Cade knew his dad was okay. For the first time since James died, Cade let himself think about his dreams.
There were two things he wanted, and he was afraid it was too late for both of them.
Cade showered, taunted by Laurel’s lingering fresh scent. Even though she’d taken all her belongings and moved back to the bed-and-breakfast, he could still smell gardenias. How long would it take for the sweet scent to fade from his bathroom? A part of him wanted it gone today, but his heart hoped it would stay forever.
After pulling on jeans and a T-shirt, he grabbed a baseball cap. He needed to go over to the hospital at Three Springs and arrange for Ralph to be transferred to the jail to await a bail hea
ring, but first he wanted to check on the mess that had been the police station.
The entire front of the station was nothing but sodden rubble. Here and there an anemic wisp of smoke drifted upward through the air.
The desk his grandfather and his father had used was destroyed. All the papers on current cases, all the case files were ruined. Thank goodness Wendell Vance’s file was still at his house. The evidence room was intact, although everything inside it would smell like smoke forever.
He picked his way back out through the rubble, wishing he’d worn his old running shoes instead of his new ones. As he emerged through the burnt-out front of the building, he saw Ralph Langston, looking very much the victim with his arm in a sling. He was accompanied by a man in a gray pinstriped suit who looked like a lawyer.
What the hell? Cade got a sinking feeling in his chest. How had the lawyer managed to get Ralph out of the hospital and away from the Three Springs police who were guarding his door?
“What’s going on here? Langston, you’re supposed to be in police custody.”
“Good morning, Chief Dupree,” the lawyer said. “I’m Arnold Griffon, Mr. Langston’s lawyer. As a matter of fact, he has a perfect right to be out of jail. He’s posted bail.”
“Posted bail—on a federal assault charge?”
The lawyer chuckled. “I’m very good friends with a judge who was happy to order bail in the amount of one hundred thousand dollars.”
Cade clenched his jaw against the anger that burned in his gut. Langston had threatened Laurel’s life. He didn’t deserve to walk free for an instant. “So you neglected to tell your good friend that your client here assaulted a federal officer.”
Griffon didn’t answer. “I believe someone brought Mr. Langston’s belongings here from the hospital last night. He’s anxious to get them back.”
“Not a chance. They contain evidence that links Langston directly to Wendell Vance’s death.” To Cade’s satisfaction the lawyer looked surprised.
He turned to Ralph. “Who’s Wendell Vance?”
“He’s got nothing,” Ralph squawked.
“Are you calling Wendell Vance’s Science Medal nothing? I doubt you felt that way when you took it off his body after you killed him ten years ago on the night of your graduation.”
