by Nora Roberts
“Oh God, he didn’t shoot someone, did he?”
With a shake of his head, Lee sat beside her. “Silas called in. Zane’s office was vandalized again. Obscenities painted all over the front of the building. Paint’s still wet. I’ve got a couple of officers going up to your place to check it out.”
“Okay. It might have been Draper who broke in before, before Micah added security.”
“Could be. We’re going to wait until daybreak to check and see if we can find where he was when he shot the doors. And we’ll be checking on his place, and his family before that.”
“All right.”
Lee patted her hand. “You’re a steady one, Darby.”
“Not altogether, but I believe in the system. It stood up for me when I needed it. I know you’ll find him. Where’s he going to go? And you’ll put him away. Except…”
“Except.”
Her gaze flicked to Zane. “It’d be a wild coincidence if it wasn’t Clint Draper, with the timing. But, Zane, you were a prosecutor. It’s not impossible somebody you put away is out, and wants some payback. And I can see by your face you’ve considered that.”
“Have to,” he agreed. “But it’s Draper. Hitting my office, that’s bullshit stuff. It fits him like a glove. And I’m betting anybody I prosecuted who had the brains to track me here probably knows how to spell ‘motherfucker.’”
Lee rose to answer his phone, wandered off, wandered back when the call was complete.
“Your place, too, I’m sorry to say, Darby. Paint, crude words. And … he left some DNA. We’ll send that off. We’ve got Clint’s on file already. Still, it takes time. Not as much for prints, and we’re going to find them, too.”
“I should go see—”
“No, you’re not going to go see,” Lee said before Zane could. “It’s a crime scene now, and you’re going to steer clear of it. You need anything from there, we’ll get it for you.”
She looked Lee dead in the eyes. “What kind of DNA?”
“You leave that to us.” He patted her hand. “I’d appreciate it if you’d both stay here for now. We’re going to go have a conversation with the Drapers. And leave the bedroom as is. One of my men’ll be around to take pictures.”
He bent down, brushed his lips over Darby’s hair. “Nobody does this to my family. You can take that to the bank.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
Darby stayed where she was, waited until Zane came back.
“What kind of DNA? He told you just now. I have a right to know.”
“My office, he pissed on the porch. Your place? He jacked off on your doormat.”
She blew out a breath. “Well. Glad I didn’t pay much for it.”
“I’d beat him bloody for that alone, and I say that as somebody who’d rather use words than fists. But for that, I’d beat him bloody. Darby, I’m—”
Her shoulders went iron hard. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. I picked her up on the side of the road. I brought her to you for help. We’re in this together.” Though her eyes stung with tears, her voice came fierce. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry to me for any part of this.”
She swiped the heels of her hands over the tears that escaped. “Zod needs to go out.”
Since the dog all but danced at the door, Zane had to agree.
“I’ll take him—on a leash. Any possibility you could try to scramble up some eggs?”
“I can do that, but I can’t guarantee how they’ll turn out.”
“Can’t be worse than mine.”
He got the leash, clipped it on the delighted dog. “If you’d been alone at your place—”
“I just went through a bunch of ifs upstairs before I reminded myself ifs don’t matter. You’d better work up a serious appetite if you’re going to swallow down my eggs.”
In the wash of his security lights, Zane walked the dog, and used the task as an excuse to aim toward where he figured the shooter had stood. He’d examined plenty of crime scenes in his past life, pored over countless police reports.
And since he had, he kept Zod on a short leash. Wisely, he decided when the dog sniffed the air and strained against it to move ahead.
“Easy. We mess anything up, Lee won’t have to kick my ass. I’ll kick my own.”
Moving carefully, he didn’t have to follow Zod’s nose for long. He could follow his own. Only more cautious now, he picked the dog up, tolerated the wiggles, the lapping tongue as he studied ground already disturbed.
And the blood, still fresh.
“Now, what do you make of that?” he mumbled. “You just hold on.” Crouching, he got a firm grip on Zod’s collar, dug his phone out of his pocket. He took a couple of shots, then frog-walked back until he had enough distance to trust the leash again.
He had to tug the dog away, then lead him off to where Zod could do what he had to do without compromising the scene.
While the dog busied himself, Zane called Lee.
“I found something—and before you jump, I didn’t compromise the scene. I’m going to send you a couple pictures. You’re going to want to get somebody over here. There had to be two of them, Lee, and one of them’s bleeding.”
He sent the pictures, thought it through while he walked Zod back for a very early breakfast.
Darby stood by the stove, scowling at the skillet. “First they were runny, and then in like seconds, they’re overdone. But I didn’t burn them, so that’s—”
She turned as she spoke, saw his face. “What? What happened?”
“They’re gone. Don’t worry.”
“They?”
He nodded, bent to unclip the leash. “Zod sniffed out where they’d been. That’s a good dog.” He gave the dog a rub, then poured his food in his bowl. Zod pounced on it like a lion pounces on a gazelle.
“There’s blood.”
“Blood? But—”
“I’m not an investigator, but I’ve worked with them. Simplest to my eye? Two of them, and one bashed the other with a rock. You’ve got a bloody rock,” he continued as he got out plates. “You’ve got blood on the ground, crushed brush, short drag marks.”
He shrugged. “They’ll find more once the sun’s up, but simplest is two, and one hauled the other out after he coshed him with a rock.”
She stood watching him while he got out forks. “You’re pretty damn cool about it.”
“Well, now it’s a mystery, so that’s interesting. And we’re about to have eggs and coffee.” He gave her arms a quick rub, much as he had the dog—with easy affection. “I’m still pissed, but now we’ve got something to figure out on top of it. Clint Draper’s easy, almost certain to be him and we’d know why. But, darlin’, why did Clint hit somebody with a rock when he had a rifle? Or why did somebody hit him with one?”
“To protect us? And that doesn’t make any sense,” she admitted as she scooped clumps of overdone eggs onto the plates. “Why would they be in the woods in the middle of the night? Why would they haul the other away and not say anything?”
“See.” He shot a finger at her, sat to eat. “Got you thinking. Could be one of his pals, whoever he’s using to hide out. They had a disagreement out there, one smacks the other.”
“Hmm.” She sampled eggs. Maybe more salt. “Then it’s oh shit, we better get out of here. But that’s just stupid.”
He tried more pepper. “We’re talking—most likely—Clint Draper, darlin’. They don’t come much more stupid.”
“Most likely,” she echoed. “It is most likely, but you’ll still check on people you helped put away that might want to hurt you.”
“I’ve got files. I’ll be looking, but odds are better Lee rounds Clint up pretty quick, and that DNA, the prints slam that shut.” Because they weren’t any worse than what he’d have scrambled up, he ate more eggs. “He’s pissed. Lee.”
“I could see that for myself.”
“He’d do the job regardless, but being pissed? He’ll round Clint Draper up pretty quick.
Even so, what I’m going to tell you is—”
“There are other Drapers,” she finished. “And—how’s this for talking southern—they won’t take kindly to having their kin locked up.”
“Not bad for a Yankee, and no, they won’t take kindly to it. So you’re going to be careful. We’re going to be careful,” he corrected before she could. “Plus, we’ve got ourselves this fierce guard dog.”
Darby glanced over at Zod. He’d finished his breakfast and now lay on his back, stubby legs in the air, wide tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.
Smiling, she lifted the charm she wore around her neck. “That makes two of us.”
“And we’ll look out for each other.” He closed his hand over hers. “All three of us.”
As if jabbed with a needle, Zod leaped up and, barking madly, raced toward the front of the house.
“Cops coming back,” Zane said. “One thing’s for certain, nobody’s going to be able to sneak in here with the General on duty.”
He rose, took his plate and hers to the sink. “I’ll get the dishes,” he told her. “You call off our little and fierce.”
She got up, breathed out. “I love you, Walker.” When he turned, smiled, she lifted her shoulders. “It seemed like one of those just-right times to say so.”
“Anytime’s the right time. I love you right back.”
Knowing it for pure truth, she went to call off the wildly barking dog, and let in the police.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
It took her back, having cops everywhere, the way they moved, the way they spoke. It pulled Darby back to the Bigelow attack, but oddly that violent encounter blurred in her mind. Everything about it so fast, so hard.
But the cop speak, the routine of the work, yanked her back to the morning she’d lost her mother. And with crystal clarity, the impossible shock and disbelief when the police came to the door with grim faces, terrible words rolled over and through her. Now, just like then, she had nothing to do, no action to take.
Just waiting, waiting, waiting.
She’d already given her statement, had nothing to add. For now at least, Lee remained firm. She needed to stay put.
She’d watched and read enough police procedurals to have a layman’s idea of what was going on around her.
They’d take official photos of the place Zane found at the edge of the woods, take samples of the blood, take the rock. Others would take photos of the bedroom, dig bullets out of the wall.
Bullets, she thought again as she wandered from kitchen to great room. Waiting, waiting, waiting.
It all seemed unreal.
She felt a twinge of embarrassment—ridiculous—when Emily came in. Then Emily walked straight to her, wrapped around her, and just held her.
That twinge turned into a flood of relief.
“They don’t want me to go outside,” she began. “The dog can’t, so I’m supposed to stay in with him. Zane’s out there, but it’s his house, so—”
“That’s not altogether why.” With a final squeeze, Emily stepped back. “He was a prosecutor. He knows these ropes. Come on, sweetie. I’ll fix you some tea.”
Now she sighed. Enough with the self-pity, because wallowing in it was worse than doing nothing. “A Coke’ll do it. Do you want anything?”
“Not right now, thanks.”
“I want to go to my place, see the damage.”
“You will,” Emily assured her. “And when Lee clears it, we’ll help you put it all to rights. Are you sure you couldn’t get a little more sleep? The sun’s barely up.”
“I’m totally awake. I had to call Roy, tell him what happened, because I’m not going to be able to work this morning. He’ll get everything going.”
“Working for you’s steadied that boy. What are y’all working on now?”
“You’re trying to distract me.”
“If you see it that easy, it’s not working.”
Darby walked to the kitchen doors—closed tight—looked out at the grounds she’d designed, the waterfall she’d built. “I love it here. This house, what I see when I look outside. I love Zane, even though that part still gives me some nerves.”
“And now twice in this house you’ve had to deal with violence.”
“Yeah. Do you think some people are just fated—I know, I know, I know it sounds stupid. But are some just fated to have violence in their lives? Again and again.”
“I don’t believe that for a single New York minute.”
“I don’t want to believe it, but I’ve been pacing around here, waiting, and I started thinking how my life did a one-eighty when I met my ex. Up until then, even considering my father took off, I had a good, solid childhood, a calm sort of life. My mother and I, school, the neighborhood, friends, the work, boys. Pretty much smooth.”
On a long expelled breath, she sat.
“Then Trent. I married him too young, too fast, but screw it, Emily, others do. It either works or it doesn’t. But it not only didn’t work, it put me in the hospital.”
Emily caught Darby’s face in her hands, tipped it side to side. “He put you there. It didn’t.”
“He’d have put me in again if he could’ve managed it. I’d never had anyone want to hurt me before that. Not that way. Then my mom, losing her the way I did. Coming here, fresh start, right? Then Bigelow, then finding Traci, now this. It just keeps rolling.”
As if sensing the need, Zod laid his head in Darby’s lap, looked at her with adoring eyes. And Emily sat beside them.
“You’re a smart, sensible woman, Darby. And most times you’ve got a positive way about you. I can’t blame you for having a hard time finding that positive this morning. But all that you’re saying is just foolishness.
“I don’t know Trent,” Emily continued, “but I know who he is because I dealt with Graham and my sister for years. They’re mean, violent, ugly people who wear a mask so well, so easily. I grew up with Eliza, I interacted with Graham all that time, but I didn’t see through the masks, not all the way. That wasn’t fate. It was their horrible skill.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Darby agreed. “It is a horrible skill.”
“What happened to your mother happened because someone was selfish, careless, callous. And I hope to Christ they suffer terrible guilt every day for the rest of their life.”
She put an arm around Darby’s shoulders, tucked her close. “In a terrible way, you were able to fight off Graham because of what happened with Trent. I find that so admirable—which is why I’m going to nag you, at another time—about giving that self-defense course. As for Traci, it’s your compassion and caring that helped save her, so you don’t think otherwise, not for a second. And this?”
She sighed. “This morning is a stupid, violent, ugly man’s attempt to show he has big balls, when in fact, he’s a small, dickless asshole. My Lee will see he’s behind bars before sundown. You can count on it.”
“Thanks. I mean it. I needed that.”
“I think what you need is to get out of here and go to work. To take this sweet dog and go do something productive. So. I’m going to go talk to Lee about letting you go on and do that. Where would you be working today?”
“I had a little something to finish on Highpoint Road—that’s how I came across Traci—but I’ll do that later. I sent the crew to the Marsh place, by the lake.”
“All right then.” She gave Darby’s knee a pat, then rose. But before Emily could head outside, they heard feet running down the front steps. And the sound of the door slamming shut.
“That’s just it.” Darby jumped up, got the leash. “I’m not going to sit here another minute.”
With the dog thrilled with new activity, and Emily beside her, Darby marched outside in time to see two of the police cars speed off.
“They must have found him.” Darby aimed toward Zane as he strode toward them. “Or he’s done something else. But … Did they find him?” she called out.
Zane kept coming. “Yeah, they found h
im. Clint Draper.”
Something’s wrong, Darby thought, and by the way Emily took her hand, she knew Emily saw it, too. “What is it? What happened?”
“They found him … floating in the lake. He’s dead. Christ.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Gabe called it in.”
“Gabe. Oh my God. I need to—”
“No.” Zane shifted to stop Emily’s forward leap. “You need to stay right here. Lee’s got this. He’s already talked to Gabe. They were working. Your crew, Darby. And from what I got, Hallie spotted the body. Roy jumped in to try to help. Too late for that, and he shouted out for somebody to call nine-one-one. Gabe called his dad.”
He took Zod’s leash. “Let’s go sit down. We need to keep Zod clear of the crime scene. They’re finished, or were, but we should keep him clear for now.”
“I need to talk to my boy,” Emily insisted.
“You go on and call him. Darby, how about if we put our heads together and make some sweet tea.”
“I’ll do it.” Emily waved them back. “I’ll get it started, call Gabe. I need to call Brody, too, make sure he stays away from that part of the lake for now.”
With a nod, Zane nudged Darby to a chair on the patio, put the loop of the leash around his wrist when Zod plopped under the table to snooze.
“Someone killed him,” Darby began.
“Or he fell in, or he committed suicide. That’s for the cops and the ME to determine.”
“The blood over there, the rock, the drag marks. You put it all together, Zane, and somebody killed him and dumped him in the lake. The questions are who and why.”
“They’ll be talking to one of his friends. They found a truck shortly before Gabe called. It’s got spilled paint, more cans of it, and blood. What it looks like is Stu Hubble came along with Clint on his spree, then they got into something, Stu smacked him with the rock. Probably didn’t mean to kill him, but did, panicked, dumped him. But things aren’t always what they look like, and that doesn’t explain why Stu would leave his truck sitting on the side of the lake road.
“We wait for the facts.”
