The officer returned a skeptical gaze. “I’m not so sure about that.” Treading lightly, he glanced around the restaurant, settling on no one in particular before whispering, “I hear he’s been getting into trouble around town.”
“Trouble?”
Gavin nodded and continued to speak softly, “Between you and me, I hear he’s been drinking.”
“Drinking? Troy? Are you sure?”
“Afraid so. The clerk over at Murray’s Liquor reported him buying a bottle of whiskey from a guy out back.”
Delaney groaned. “Oh, no…”
Malcolm could hear the pain in her voice, a combination of disappointment and dread. Underage drinking was nothing new or earth shattering, but add Casey’s addiction issues and it could be a ticking time bomb. “But you haven’t connected him with Jeremiah’s robbery, have you?” Malcolm asked.
“Not yet, but we’re looking into his alibi. He said he was bowling that night, but I haven’t found anyone who can vouch for him.”
Delaney brought a hand to her forehead. Troy was a good friend of Felicity’s. Malcolm was certain she was processing any possible connection between Troy and her daughter that could negatively impact Felicity.
“Gavin, you need to stop wasting your time and go and arrest Jeremiah this instant!” Lacy cried out.
Malcolm placed a hand to her forearm, silently urging her to keep quiet. There was no sense in letting the officer in on the fact they knew about Jeremiah’s gambling debt. It might look as if they set him up. As it stood, neither he nor Nick had an alibi for the night of Jeremiah’s beating—and both could be placed in the general whereabouts of Jeremiah’s assault if the police asked the right people.
They’d told Delaney they had a conference call scheduled with a hotel of theirs in Australia, and due to the time difference, had to do so at night. While that much was true, the call lasted only thirty minutes. For the remainder of the evening, they had followed Jeremiah. Nick wanted to know who he was meeting, if the man from the forest trail was indeed the same man who had helped kidnap Delaney.
But following Jeremiah had supplied more questions than answers. He had gone to a bar, and stayed at a bar. Inside. There was no way Nick or Malcolm could have gone in after him without causing a scene. The man from the trail—this Willie, just as Nick and Delaney had suspected—showed up and stayed for about an hour before he left, agitated, but alone. Numerous hoodlums and goons came and went, but Jeremiah never exited the building. Not by the front door, anyway. By three o’clock in the morning, he and Nick called it off. The bar’s lights went out. Jeremiah must have gone out a back door.
Lacy shook Malcolm free. “You and I both know that Gavin is wasting his time here. If he wants to know who should be in jail, it’s Jeremiah.”
“And why would that be, Lacy?” Officer Shore peered at her. “Is there something I should know?”
“Because,” she snapped, but dutifully checked when Malcolm tapped her foot with his. “Because,” she said, “because he’s a no good, two-timing scalawag who needs to be in jail.”
Malcolm smiled inwardly. Good girl.
Gavin grinned with a familiarity that came from a childhood spent growing up together. “Well, I can’t arrest a man for being dishonorable, Lacy.”
“Well, you should,” she huffed and crossed arms over her chest.
Clearly she was not pleased Malcolm had reined her in, but there was no way around it. At the clang of bells, Malcolm saw Felicity and Travis entering the diner. He hitched a nod to Nick and Delaney, indicating they should look behind them.
They turned and Nick said, “If you’ll excuse us, officer...”
“No problem. I need to get some coffee for the road.” Officer Shore backed away, allowing them to pass. He waved to Felicity. She waved back, but her expression fell. Clearly she was not happy to see a police officer with her mother.
Malcolm and Lacy followed Nick and Delaney over to Felicity and Travis. Felicity brushed strawberry-blonde hair behind an ear, her freckled skin flushing pink. She seemed tense, nervous. Travis stood firm, giving a quick fling to the sweep of bangs hanging over his brow. Although the boy seemed calm and collected, Malcolm detected unease behind his façade of cool.
Felicity asked, “What did Officer Gavin want?”
“He was asking questions about Jeremiah,” Delaney replied, subtly nudging her daughter and Travis away from overactive ears that might be lurking near. Gathering her daughter close, Delaney asked quietly, “Did you know Troy’s been drinking?”
Malcolm noted she didn’t mention the first word about Ernie.
Felicity sought Travis for support. “Do you want to tell her?”
“Tell me what?” Delaney demanded.
Travis stepped forward, Felicity hanging close by his side. “Troy is dropping out of college, Miss Delaney.”
“Dropping out? Before he even got started?” Delaney’s complexion went white, to the extent Malcolm thought she might pass out, her system over-taxed by bad news. Ernie, Jillian, Troy. It was proving to be an eventful morning.
Malcolm gauged Travis for signs of turmoil at home. His parents had to be upset. Were he and Troy still at odds?
“He wants to work with horses,” Felicity said, defending her friend. “He says he doesn’t want to go to college when it won’t help him get the job he wants to pursue.”
Malcolm could see the very notion angered Travis. Studious, polite and well-spoken, Travis screamed upperclassman, graduate degree. The boy oozed all the signs of success while Troy, on the other hand, was all bull and brunt force.
“Morton and Betty Ann must be out of their minds right now,” Delaney murmured in reply.
“They’re not happy,” Travis confirmed.
“There’s something else you should know,” Felicity piped in, a mild tremor in her voice. “Troy has hooked up with Casey.”
Despair trickled into Delaney’s gaze. “I saw them together this morning...”
Malcolm understood her concern. Casey had dabbled in drugs. More than dabbled, from what Nick said. She had intentionally overdosed. Hooking her wagon to an under-aged boy messing around with alcohol had all the ingredients for a disaster in the making.
“Excuse me.”
The group turned to discover Officer Shore standing behind them, Styrofoam coffee cup in hand. Malcolm swallowed hard. How long had he been standing there?
Nick spoke first. “Yes?”
Officer Shore’s gaze sharpened on the lot of them, his focus coming to rest on Malcolm and Nick. “Where is Jeremiah?” he asked, his tone a tinge adversarial.
“Don’t know,” Nick responded placidly.
“He was here about an hour ago,” Malcolm offered, exchanging a wary glance with his partner.
“Is there a problem?” Delaney asked him.
“The Police Chief just called. Seems there’s a warrant out for Jeremiah’s arrest.”
“A warrant?” Lacy asked. “From Las Vegas?”
Officer Shore zeroed in her. “How did you know?”
She gulped and stammered, “Um, I know his girlfriend Loretta, remember?”
“And you didn’t feel the need to share the information with me?”
Lacy looked to Malcolm. Officer Shore followed suit.
If only Lacy weren’t an open book, reading the story aloud to the nice gentleman! But Malcolm remained mute. The less said, the better. As it stood, all the man had was supposition. If the officer was able to put him and Nick in the same vicinity as Jeremiah near the time of the mugging, it wouldn’t look good.
A loaded tray crashed to the floor in the kitchen, snagging the officer’s attention. The group followed his gaze, but no one said a word.
Officer Shore straightened. “Huh.” His gaze teeming with suspicion, he muttered, “It seems I have a man to find. But don’t go anywhere, you hear? I want to speak to you four again.”
“Understood,” Nick replied.
Officer Shore edged his way through t
he crowded entrance and Malcolm breathed a sigh of relief. Temporary relief. There was still the matter of assault and battery, the question of title, the question of paternity. Too many damn questions for him to keep track!
“Do you think he’ll think we had something to do with Jeremiah’s beating?” Delaney asked.
“We sure do look a lot guiltier,” Malcolm acknowledged.
“Oh, poo—it’s all my fault!” Lacy cried.
Malcolm slid an arm around her and pulled Lacy to his side, kissing the top of her head. “No it’s not. Knowledge is not a crime.”
“But the suspicion has been raised,” Nick said.
“That it has,” Malcolm agreed grimly.
“We better get going,” Nick said.
The statement kicked Delaney back to the present. Ernie. She turned to Felicity and said, “Ernie’s in the hospital.”
Her daughter’s brow puckered. “He is?” Travis put an arm around her narrow shoulders and stood staunchly by her side.
“Ashley called. We’re going to see him now.”
“Oh, no...” Felicity’s eyes shone bright green.
Malcolm hated it for her. She was young, sensitive, the pain gouged deep. This was her grandfather they were talking about, a man who cared for her. Loved her. And now she might have to say goodbye.
“Travis, you’ll take me, won’t you?” she asked.
“Of course.”
There was no question, no hesitation of any kind. The family would rally to Ernie’s bedside.
Malcolm and Lacy walked out with them, and the couples head out to their respective vehicles. There was no need for Lacy to go. Ernie wasn’t her family.
“I need to call Annie,” Lacy said.
“Why?” Malcom asked.
She shrugged. “I need to tell her that Delaney is considering giving Casey half the property.” Lacy turned her head up to him and cupped her eyes against the bright sunshine. “Is that okay?”
“Of course. You do what you feel you need to do.”
Offering his elbow, he escorted Lacy down the sidewalk and listened as she called her sister. It was brief, excitement mixed with sadness, and when she ended the call, Lacy seemed pensive. Tugging her close, he asked, “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” She slipped the phone back into her purse and said, “It’s weird how life works, isn’t? Good news, bad news, they always seem to come tied together.”
“How so?”
“Oh, you know...” Lacy carelessly dragged her boot heels against the cement, slowing their pace as she elaborated, “I learned about the gold and was able to tell Annie, which was good news, but then you and Delaney got mad at me for sharing.” Malcolm chuckled, reveling in the feel of her body, the scent of her hair, her perfume. It was a little more than that, he thought, but okay. “I left Tennessee for a life of freedom in Atlanta only to find it wasn’t anything like I imagined. Then I have the opportunity to come home and start over but I don’t have anything to do,” she said glumly, leaning into him as they walked. “It’s not right.”
Strolling together down the sidewalk, the feel of her arm looped through his reminded Malcolm of a different kind of stroll. “You have me.”
“But you’re not something to do,” she said.
“I could be,” he teased.
Lacy yanked on his arm. “Be serious.”
He was—more serious than he’d ever been.
“I need something to look forward to, something to be excited about.” She waved a hand ahead of them and whined, “What’s there for me to do in this old place?”
“What about my job offer?”
“Well, sure, but that isn’t something to do today.”
Today. Yes, today. Malcolm took in the quaint street they paralleled, sidewalks lined with storefronts, pedestrians moving on idle, the green mountain ridge rising behind the town for an incredible vista. The sky was clear and blue, the temperature warm with a mild breeze. Her hometown was idyllic. This was beautiful country, a place you could settle down, even raise a family. Inhaling the view, Malcolm found he was looking forward to spending time here, building Serenity Springs, spending time with the woman beside him. It might be a town Lacy took for granted, but he did not.
Malcolm stopped. There was no doubt in his mind that Lacy would enjoy traveling the world, visiting new and exotic locales, but he bet she’d enjoy coming home again, too. Home. It was a word he was beginning to like the sound of, the feel. “Sweetheart, let’s say we make it official.”
“Make what official?”
He grasped both her hands. “Us. You and me.”
Lacy looked at him as if in pure shock.
Malcolm chuckled, a rush of nerves barreling through him as he dropped to his knee.
“Are you serious?” Lacy asked.
“Never been more serious in my life. I know this sounds sudden, but you strike me as the spontaneous type—and exactly my kind of woman.” Lacy blinked, her blue eyes glittering like a sheet of island water. “Is it possible to fall in love with a woman every day? To learn something new about her and want her even more?”
She gaped at him.
Growing serious, Malcolm caressed the slender hands folded within his and asked, “Lacy Louise Owens, will you marry me?” She stood speechless, those luscious lips of hers slightly parted. “I want to spend every waking hour with you. I want to hike with you, swim with you, make love to you until we lose ourselves and become one.”
She remained silent. A jolt of angst fired hot in his chest. She wasn’t going to decline, was she? “Lacy?”
She nodded—suddenly, eagerly—a smile seizing her face. “Yes, Malcolm.” Lacy beamed and squealed, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
Relief washed through him. “I don’t have a ring,” he confessed, rising to his feet, “but Vegas has some of the finest jewelry stores in the world. What do you say we head west? There’s a flight leaving Atlanta this evening, and we can be married before midnight.”
Lacy hopped up and down and flung her arms around his neck. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
Malcolm hugged her tightly, luxuriating in her soft curves. Nuzzling close, he whispered, “You’re going to make the cutest kids.”
She pulled back abruptly. Concern doused her happiness. “But what about Ernie and Delaney?”
“We can be back by lunchtime tomorrow.”
“We can?”
“If you want, we can.”
A joyful pleasure shattered any and all reservation. “Oh, Malcolm, call them. Call them and tell them we’re going but we’ll be back the instant they need us!”
He laughed. “Will do, sweetheart, but in this particular instant, I need you.” Malcolm ducked down and kissed her, kissed her deeply, thoroughly, emotions firing inside him like a Grand Opening Day. This was going to be some kind of adventure.
# # #
The End
Lacy’s Favorite Fried Okra
1 lb. fresh okra (frozen, cut okra will do just fine)
2 cups yellow cornmeal
1 cup buttermilk
1 egg (optional)
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper
1 inch vegetable oil in pan (or bacon fat for added flavor)
If using fresh okra, trim ends and cut into 1/2 inch pieces. In large bowl, whisk together buttermilk and egg. Toss okra in buttermilk ~ let marinate at room temperature for at least 15 minutes. Mix cornmeal, salt & pepper and set aside.
Heat oil in large cast iron skillet on medium heat. When hot, dredge okra in cornmeal mixture, coating well, then cook okra until golden brown, careful not to crowd okra in pan. Drain on paper towels and serve warm.
***Oil is ready when test piece bubbles immediately.
Thank you for reading Ladd Springs. As an author, reviews are a wonderful way to help future readers discover my books. Will you take a moment to review Ladd Springs?
Appreciate your time and effort on my behalf!
About the Author:
Dianne Ve
netta lives in Central Florida with her husband, two children and part-time Yellow Lab Cody-boy! An avid gardener, she spends her spare time growing organic vegetables, surprised by what she finds there every day. Who knew there were so many amazing similarities between men and plants? Women, life and love and her discoveries provide for never-ending fun on her garden blog: BloominThyme.
You can also find her on twitter @DianneVenetta and facebook.com/DianneVenetta. Plus, learn how you can become a member of her street team, Bloomin’ Warriors, where you’ll be eligible for special discounts, advance excerpts, author swag and unique gift items throughout the year. For full details, be sure to check out her website,
Dianne Venetta
Other novels by Dianne Venetta:
JENNIFER’S GARDEN
LUST ON THE ROCKS
WHISPER PRIVILEGES
CONDEMN ME NOT
Ladd Springs Series...
LADD SPRINGS #1
LADD FORTUNE #2
HOTEL LADD #3
Watch for book #4 in the Ladd Springs series:
LADD HAVEN
October 2013
Chapter One
Annie Owens fiddled with the business card in hand, the matte finished paper growing worn from her constant handling. Colored in green and tan, flecks of natural fiber, the earth-friendly tone was clearly communicated. Eco Domani. Annie’s gaze slid down to the name embossed in the lower right corner.
Jillian Devane, President and CEO.
“What are you gonna do?” Candi Sweeney asked, a nervous edge creeping into her voice.
“I don’t know,” she murmured in reply. Seated on the couch in her living room, the two-bedroom apartment she and her daughter called home, Annie glanced up at her best friend. Concern scored Candi’s dark brown eyes, her face framed by stick-straight hair that fell in fine points across her shoulders. Amazingly the hairstyle was impeccable after a full day working at the salon. Not only her best friend, but Candi was the best hairstylist Annie knew.
Ladd Fortune Page 24
