Toeing off his Durangos, Jake set his stocking feet on the coffee table. After he’d swallowed his anger, along with most of his beer, he made a mental note to pump Tony for information on Devereaux’s activity with Frat Boy during the time Jake had been MIA. Surely Birdie would have kept his uncle in the loop since she was firmly on Team Jake.
He frowned. At least she had been before his vanishing act. What if Devereaux’s family had changed sides? Her father seemed friendly enough, but he hadn’t indicated which man he thought would be better for his daughter. If Birdie switched teams, Kern might follow.
Jake got up and paced the length of the living room. Devereaux had haunted him over the past three weeks. He’d tried to steal a few minutes to stop by the store to see her, but something had always come up. She was constantly on his mind. He should have let her know that.
She had asked why, if he missed her so much, he hadn’t texted her to meet him one of those nights when he’d lain awake thinking about her. But that would have felt too much like a hookup.
Which would have been just fine with him with any other woman. Hell! Until he’d met Dev, a night of wild sex was the only reason he’d felt the need to be with a gal. But that wasn’t what he wanted from Dev. Or at least, it wasn’t all that he wanted from her.
It had been sheer torture sitting hour after hour with his ex-wife when all he wanted to do was spend that time with Devereaux. While he felt sorry for Meg and he hated to see her the way she was, he’d had to ask himself why he’d ever married her. How had he thought he loved her? The only thing he felt for her now was pity.
After chugging the last of his Corona, he walked into the kitchen and put the empty beer bottle in the trash can under the sink. Then he pulled out a chair, sat at the table, and leaned back. There was no use going to bed. He wouldn’t be able to sleep. He knew he’d just lie there and fantasize that he and Devereaux were together in their own house and she was in his arms.
Instead of wasting his time staring at his bedroom ceiling, he turned his thoughts to the murder. If Dev’s parents hadn’t killed her stepfather, who had? They needed to know time of death, what was on the paper Benedict had been holding, and the vic’s financial situation. He could call in a few favors in order to get some of that information, but without any authority, his options were limited. He needed the power of a badge.
It was nearly two a.m. by the time Jake headed to bed. In the hours he’d sat watching the clock above the sink tick off the seconds, he’d come to a decision. It was time to get a PI license.
He’d been considering the possibility since he’d first realized he would have to retire from the marshal service. He needed to get online and find out the requirements in Missouri to be recognized as a private investigator, but he doubted there would be any credentials he didn’t already possess.
With autumn around the corner, things would slow down a little on the ranch, which meant this was the perfect time to start the accreditation procedure. As long as the home health aide resolved the situation with Meg, this might be his chance to keep his finger in the investigative pie and to spend more time with Devereaux in the process. A win-win scenario if he ever saw one.
• • •
That night Jake’s sleep was plagued with dreams of Devereaux walking down the aisle with Noah Underwood. Every time Jake turned over, the pain in his leg woke him up, and he alternated between gazing out the window and at the clock. Finally, he gave up, and by five a.m., he was already dressed and outside doing chores.
It looked as if today’s late-summer weather would be a repeat of the past week—warm and blustery. But this morning there was a hint of something strange in the air, and the cows were acting oddly. Jake chuckled to himself, thinking that Professor Hinkley would probably blame the herd’s bizarre behavior on the extraterrestrials.
Jake had actually seen an array of lights in the sky a few nights ago, but they looked more like distant fireworks than a flying saucer. What would the alientologist do when ET was a no-show in the town square next week? Having dealt with his share of scam artists, Jake figured the professor would have some excuse for Khrelan Naze’s failure to put in an appearance. And sadly, many of the suckers would believe the charlatan’s lies.
Shrugging at the gullibility of the masses, Jake went back to work. The cows had to be tended to, no matter what the conditions, and the last crop of hay was nearly ready to be harvested from the field. Once it was baled and in the barn, there would be a short break before the winter work began in earnest.
While he labored, Jake considered what he knew about Jett Benedict’s murder. If neither Devereaux’s mother nor her father was guilty—and that was a big if—then who else had a reason to want the vic dead?
Unless someone had followed Benedict to Shadow Bend, he hadn’t been in the area long enough for the killer to have a personal motivation. An unfamiliar individual lurking around the square certainly would have drawn someone’s attention. Had anyone noticed a stranger in town?
If the reason for the homicide wasn’t love or revenge, Jake’s bet was on the money. Why hadn’t the funds for the library arrived as promised?
As Jake treated a toe abscess on one cow, the injured tail of a second, and the cracked hoof of a third, he considered his next move.
Heading back to the house for breakfast, he decided that a trip to the police station was in his future. Without a badge, he’d have to charm the information he wanted out of someone. He hoped that the woman who had flirted with him on his previous visit to the PD was on duty. Dispatcher Barbie had seemed more than eager to help him in any way that his heart or any other part of him desired. Maybe he’d bring Devereaux along again. On their last visit, he’d enjoyed her reaction to the woman’s flirting, and it would be good to let her see what it felt like to be jealous.
When Jake entered the kitchen, Ulysses nodded at him, then placed half a dozen sausage links on a plate and poured pancake batter into a sizzling-hot cast-iron griddle. Jake had known the housekeeper for more than twenty years and he hadn’t changed at all during that time.
Ulysses was a short, chubby man of unidentifiable age and ethnicity who had always reminded Jake of a genie. A mythical being that materialized from a magic lantern and returned to the lamp every evening without ever revealing anything about his history or future plans. An otherworldly creature that refused to answer any questions.
Jake greeted the housekeeper, then said good morning to his uncle, who was sitting at the head of the table reading the local newspaper. Jake rarely bothered to do more than skim the Shadow Bend Banner. National and international stories were given less than a couple paragraphs of coverage, while the area sports teams took up most of the remaining pages. And unless you had a kid in the game, the stats weren’t all that interesting.
Tony lowered the paper and asked, “How did it go last night? Did that ex of yours behave herself long enough for you to talk to Dev? Or did she pull her usual hysterical act?”
Jake sighed, knowing his uncle thought Meg was faking, or at least exaggerating her condition. He was beginning to suspect Tony might be right, that his ex-wife wasn’t as bad off as she pretended, and Jake was developing a plan to test that theory.
“Devereaux and I had some time together before Meg lost it.” Jake didn’t bother to lie. Everyone in Gossip Central had heard his ex’s breakdown. Her screams had been loud enough to wake the dead. Or at least the drunks at the bar. And all eyes had followed them as he’d led her through the club and outside to his truck.
“What a surprise.” Tony skewered his nephew with a piercing stare, lifted a bushy white eyebrow, and asked, “How did Dev take that?”
“She said it was fine.”
“And you believed her?” Tony shook his head. “The speed that a gal says ‘fine’ is inversely proportional to the intensity of the shitstorm that’s coming.”
“Devereaux’s not
like that.”
“Every lady has her limits.” Tony shrugged. “You need to wise up soon.”
“Probably in more ways than one.” Jake walked to the coffeemaker on the counter. “Want a refill?”
He knew his uncle had a point and that he would drive home that point until he was satisfied Jake was on the right track again. Not out of meddlesomeness, but out of concern.
Tony had been more of a father to Jake than his own dad had ever been, and he had earned the right to have his opinion respected. Jake’s parents had shipped him off to military school when he’d turned eight, and since that time, they had rarely spent more than a day or so with him. He saw them only on those rare occasions when their demanding social life left them with a few free hours and nothing better to do than to visit their only son.
Tony was the one who had taught Jake how to clean a fish, hunt a deer, and to be a real man. He was the one who was there to listen when Jake shared his hopes, dreams, and troubles. The ranch was Jake’s true home. His parents’ opulent houses, condos, and villas felt more like hotels than places to kick off his boots and relax.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Tony held out his mug. “Caffeine is the elixir of life, and when you’re so far over the hill that you’ve started up the next one, coffee is the only thing that gets you going in the morning.”
“What are you talking about?” Jake grabbed a cup for himself, filled it, then emptied the rest of the pot into his uncle’s white crockery mug. “You’re the youngest octogenarian I know.”
“Thanks.” Tony leaned back and took a long sip. “But I’m so old I remember when porn cost money and water was free.”
Jake chuckled.
Tony grinned, then returned to the subject of his nephew’s love life. “So was Dev pissed at not seeing you lately?”
“She wasn’t happy,” Jake admitted. “But she understands.”
“I bet.” Tony wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “If she’s anything like her grandma, she’ll ‘understand’ for only so long. Then she’ll take a real hard look at Underwood and decide he’s the better option. Is that what you want?”
“Hell no!” Jake settled into the wooden slat-back chair, and Ulysses silently slid a full plate in front of him. “It’s just that I’ve been so dang busy I’m not sure if I found a rope or lost a cow. But the aide’s first shift starts at three today, and I plan to be at the dime store by three fifteen.”
“Good.” Tony quirked his mouth. “All it took was another murder to get you back on track.”
Jake grunted.
“And that reminds me.” Tony tapped the tabletop with his fingers. “I was at the bakery the other day, and I heard Nadine Underwood and one of her CDM friends talking about Jett Benedict.”
“Oh?” Jake wasn’t sure where Tony was going with this, but knew his uncle wasn’t prone to idle chitchat. “What did the cream of the Confederate Daughters of Missouri have to say about Devereaux’s stepfather?”
“I didn’t get much of the conversation.” Tony pursed his lips. “But it had something to do with Benedict poking his nose in places it didn’t belong and making him sorry if he didn’t stop doing it.”
CHAPTER 12
When my radio blared on Wednesday morning, I woke up with a start, batting at the snooze button repeatedly until the damn thing stopped blasting “Love the Way You Lie”—one of my least favorite tunes. I mean seriously, who wants to hear lyrics about a couple’s refusal to break up despite their abusive relationship? Considering my parents’ present situation, the words hit way too close to home.
The annoying song distracted me, so it took me a few seconds to remember what I had been dreaming about. When I did, the warm, tingly sensation that had greeted me when my eyes opened was explained. Jake and I were back in the cab of his truck, but in my dream version we hadn’t been interrupted by either onlookers or his phone.
Hell! My fixation on a man so wrapped up in his ex-wife’s life wasn’t healthy. I wiped the smile off my lips and trudged into the bathroom. Meg and the barflies had actually done me a favor. Having sex with Jake before I chose between him and Noah was a bad idea on so many levels.
The chemistry between us was too strong for a fling. I needed to make such an important decision with my head and my heart, not just because my girl parts wanted to enjoy themselves.
It was time to buckle down and concentrate on my father and/or mother’s impending arrest. Just because I hadn’t been with anyone but my battery-operated boyfriend for the past several years didn’t mean it was okay to forget about the very real possibility that my dad could end up back in prison. And this time, dear old Mom might be occupying the cell right next to him.
Gran was washing the window over the sink when I entered the kitchen. She was sitting on the counter with her feet in the basin, swearing at the mechanism that refused to latch the pane back into place.
I quickly hopped up next to her and held the glass so she could return the window to its full upright and locked position. Her obsession with Windex never failed to mystify me, but there was no talking her out of using her trusty blue bottle and her old flour-sack dishcloths to make every glass surface in the house gleam. Even if the sparkle lasted only until the next rainstorm or fingerprint.
As I returned to terra firma, I glanced around for Banshee. He was in his preferred spot, perched on top of the fridge. It was one of his favorite places from which to launch himself onto the top of my head as I walked by him.
Giving him a superior smirk, I avoided his likely trajectory and peeked into the warming oven. Gran had waffles with a side of crispy bacon waiting for me. I grabbed the plate, poured a cup of heaven from the Mr. Coffee, and settled into my seat at the table.
Noting my father’s absence, I asked, “Did Dad already eat?” Even on the days he worked an afternoon shift at the store, he generally had breakfast with me, or at least sat with me while I ate mine.
“Nope.” Birdie shook her head. “I haven’t seen him yet this morning. Maybe he slept in.”
“I hope so.” I wrinkled my brow, wishing I could make sure without violating our unspoken agreement to respect each other’s privacy.
I really wanted to run up to his apartment right now and see if he was there. But since I didn’t want him checking on whether I spent the night in my own bed—should I ever choose to fulfill my Jake fantasy—I’d have to curb the impulse to check up on him.
Worried that Dad had gone back on his word and spent the night with my mother, I rubbed my temples, trying to ease the headache I could feel approaching. My father wasn’t a stupid man. He had to recognize that pursuing any relationship with Yvette would make him look even guiltier in Chief Kincaid’s eyes.
Maybe I should telephone Mom and see if he was there. Luckily, the condo she and Jett had rented came with a landline, since Dad had disposed of her cell. No. I shook my head. The problem with that plan was that I couldn’t count on Yvette telling me the truth. And considering our less-than-loving relationship, calling her might nudge her into doing something just to provoke me.
The best plan was to wait and telephone her later. She was always a late riser and wouldn’t appreciate being woken up to see how she was doing. When I phoned her, I’d subtly remind her that when the police talked to her again, as I was sure they would, she needed to keep quiet about Dad’s part in yesterday’s scenario.
I’d make sure she understood that I’d help her only as long as she protected my father. After deserting me when I was a teenager, she didn’t deserve and couldn’t expect anything more from me.
Gran interrupted my thoughts by handing me the bottle of Aunt Jemima. As I poured the syrup over my waffles, she demanded, “Did Jake show up at Gossip Central last night?” When I nodded, my mouth too full of deliciousness to answer, she asked, “Was that hussy with him?”
I nodded again, but before I could fork anothe
r bite into my mouth, Gran scooted my dish out of reach and said, “Tell me what happened.”
Eyeing the rest of my breakfast, I quickly summarized my evening, leaving out the part where Jake and I almost provided a peep show for the patrons of Gossip Central, and ended with, “So our talk was interrupted when Meg freaked out. Jake said he’d contact me today about our next step in investigating Jett’s murder.”
“Like I said before, Tony thinks Meg’s faking.” Gran returned my plate to its rightful place in front of me. “He says he’s going to catch her acting . . . uh . . .”
“Sane.”
Gran nodded, then continued. “Tony’s going to prove to Jake that his ex is just trying to worm her way into his life and make him send Miss Meg packing. Tony told me he’d drive her to St. Louis himself if he thought he could get her into his pickup.”
“Good for him,” I mumbled around a gulp of ambrosia. Gran made the best coffee.
“Tony says Meg has the manners of a two-year-old,” Gran continued.
“Evidently she never experienced the joys of attending Miss Ophelia’s etiquette classes on excruciatingly correct behavior.” I crunched a perfectly crisp piece of bacon between my teeth.
“Which goes to show you how fortunate you were to have had that experience,” Gran deadpanned.
“Does it?” I had hated those lessons.
“When is Jake going to call you?” Gran snatched my now empty dish off the table, along with my fork, and put them in the sink.
“I’m not sure.”
“He didn’t say?” Gran’s blasé expression didn’t fool me one bit. While she was truly worried about her son’s situation as Chief Kincaid’s prime suspect, she wasn’t about to miss the opportunity to get Jake to spend more time with me.
“The store’s open until nine tonight, so there’s no rush.” I glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was nearly eight a.m., which gave me less than an hour to shower, dress, and drive to work. “If Jake doesn’t get in touch with me by then, I’ll text him.”
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