Cover Your Eyes (21 page)

He studied her, his frustration reminded her of an adult talking to a child. “Be careful around him. He’s clever and he could easily turn on you.”

She unlocked her car door. “I’ll keep that in mind. By the way, how is my DNA coming along?”

“You’ve a one-track mind.”

She tossed her briefcase and purse in the backseat, grateful to have the weight off her shoulder. “So I’ve been told.”

“How’s the shoulder?”

“Hurts like hell. Have they done Lexis’s autopsy yet?”

“Today. The medical examiner will release her body soon.”

Suddenly the fire and vinegar seeped from her bones. “Good. You’ll let me know when I can take custody of her?” She couldn’t bring herself to say
body
. A simple word but it reduced Lexis to a thing and she couldn’t do that.

“Sure.” His own heat and fire still radiated, but it had cooled. In the courtroom he’d been all business and now she saw the face of the man who’d come to the hospital for her. That man she could almost like.

“Thanks.”

“Had any trouble?”

“No. But I’m as nervous as a cat.”

“Good. Stay that way and be careful.”

“Always.”

 

 

Deke was still irritated with Rachel when he arrived at the medical examiner’s office. Despite her know-it-all attitude, she was wrong about McMillian. On a hunch, he’d called dispatch and requested all uniforms to keep an eye out for McMillian, especially if he made a move on Rachel who would be an easy unsuspecting target.

KC spotted Deke and pushed away from the wall as he studied his notebook. “I won’t miss these dates of ours, Deke.”

Deke crossed the lobby. “I can’t see you retiring. Hard to believe today is it.”

Weariness weighed KC’s shoulders. “It’s time. I’m a dinosaur. You’re the new guard.”

“So what do you plan to do with yourself?”

“Heading east to see my son.”

“What about Brenda?”

“She’s working and her mother is sick. And it doesn’t seem right to take her to meet my boy. She’s younger and well, I’m not ready to take her to prime time, if you know what I mean.”

“Sure.” Deke pressed the elevator button. “I hear there’s a party for you tonight.”

He grinned. “A hell of a blow-out. Cannot wait. Georgia said she’d sing.”

“So I hear. You going to spend more time with Brenda after you get back into town?”

He laughed. “Sure. But the trick will be not to piss her off. She’s already annoyed when I’m underfoot on my days off.”

“Trading one danger for another.”

“Murders I get. Premenopausal women not so much.”

Laughter rumbled. “Christ, KC, that’s a big word. I didn’t realize you knew it.”

“It’s another disadvantage of getting old, my boy. Your day will come.”

“I’m not getting married again. I’m no good at it.”

“Maybe you never met the right woman.”

“My wives were good women. I was the wrong guy and that’s never going to change.”

“That’s a bit dramatic.”

“Nope. Just practical.”

Deke pushed into the exam room. As soon as he saw the exposed body of Lexis Hanover, all good humor vanished.

Dr. Heller appeared dressed in scrubs, her dark hair pulled in a tight ponytail. “Gentlemen.”

In this room Deke never felt in his element. Crime scenes he understood because they told a story that he could figure out. But in the autopsy room he was an outsider.

“I finished the autopsy.” She moved to the pale, still, brutalized body now marred by a large Y incision on her chest. “The blow to her head killed her.” She pointed to the crushed right side of Lexis’s skull. “This blow killed her quickly. But judging by the wounds on her knees and elbow, I’d say this was not the first strike. I’d say your killer tortured her before killing her.”

Deke studied the shattered knees and the elbow. “The majority of Dixie Simmons’s blows were to her face. Lexis Hanover sustained injuries all over her body.”

“Her face was all but obliterated. But not in the case of Ms. Hanover. Her features are still recognizable.”

KC rubbed the back of his neck. “Dixie was pretty. Sexy. Lexis was smart. Had more the librarian look. Two very different victims.”

“And then there is Rachel Wainwright,” Deke said.

KC frowned. “I heard about her attack. Happened outside her office.”

Deke nodded. “Struck with a blunt object. But she heard her attacker coming and dodged at the last second. Hit hard but avoided the killing blow.”

Dr. Heller reached for a sheet and pulled it over Lexis Hanover’s body. “Ms. Wainwright called earlier to see when we’d release Hanover’s body. Professional, but she sounded upset.”

“They were friends,” Deke said.

“So we got an Annie lookalike that’s killed,” KC said. “A woman stirring up Annie’s case attacked. And Hanover had the letters.”

“What letters?” Dr. Heller asked.

“Letters apparently written by Annie Dawson were sent to Rachel. She’d sent them to Hanover for authentication.”

“It all goes back to Annie,” KC said.

Deke nodded. “Was there anyone else you and Buddy suspected before Max gave you the big tip?”

KC rubbed his chin. “We vetted the husband, cleared him soon enough. Checked out the bars where she sang but no hits. Talked to her roommates, pastor, and her boyfriend from high school. They all checked out.”

“You suspect any women?”

KC shrugged. “Her roommates were Beth and Joanne. I remember Beth didn’t like Annie at all. Not at all. But she died about a decade ago.”

“How’d she die?”

“Believe it was a car accident.”

“Was it in Nashville?”

“Believe it was.”

“Do me a favor and pull any reports on her.”

“Why?”

“Can’t say, exactly. But I want more details.”

 

“You didn’t get all the letters.”

“I got all the letters at that woman’s house. All of them. I was careful.”

“They aren’t all here. There are ten. There should be twenty.”

“There are more than ten letters there.”

“Half are originals and half are copies.”

“I searched and that’s all I found,” Baby said. “Even got you that song Annie wrote.”

“You’ve created such a mess.”

“Why is it such a mess? I read the letters,” Baby challenged. “No names are mentioned.”

“You don’t understand.”

Baby frowned. “I understand. I understand that whatever I do for you is never going to be good enough. Never.”

Instead of a rebuttal, the woman shifted through the papers again. “I know there were twenty letters in all. Twenty.” She shook her head. “Rachel Wainwright is smarter than she looks. I’ll bet she didn’t give that woman all the letters.”

“Why wouldn’t she give them all for testing?”

“She’s smart. She’s always planning for the worst.”

“I can go back to her building and search.” Mother still didn’t know about the attack on Rachel. “I’m smarter than both of them together.”

“Don’t be so sure of yourself. If you were real smart you’d never have given the letters to her and we’d be in the clear.”

“We are in the clear. He’s the one that has to worry.”

“This is our problem, not his.”

“Why do you always protect him?”

“Be quiet. Let me think.”

A clock ticked on the wall. The old woman shifted in her wheelchair, as if hating the immobility. “Dixie Simmons was selfish and self-absorbed. Trouble waiting to happen.”

Baby smiled. “Killing her was like shooting fish in a barrel. Lexis was easy to fool.” But Rachel. She was a cagey woman. A survivor.

“Rachel will have to die. And soon.”

A teapot whistled in the kitchen. Baby rose. “I was thinking about Rachel. I was thinking . . .”

“Stop thinking about Rachel. There’s someone else we need to consider visiting first.”

“Who?”

“Serve the tea and we will talk.”

 

 

The evening television newscaster gave a recap of the construction on I-40 and the traffic delays as Rudy Creed settled in front of the television with a cup of tea. It was busy tonight at the bar and he could spare only five or ten minutes before he had to run back downstairs and get behind the bar.

He settled on the couch next to Nikki whose attention was held by the cup of tea in her hands. She slurped from the edge of the cup.

“Did you have a good day?” Rudy asked.

“I cleaned.”
Slurp.
“The bar was dirty.”

“You do a good job.” He glanced at Nikki’s vacant lost stare.

“I know. I’m a good cleaner.” She brushed back a strand of graying hair with the back of her hand.

She’d been cleaning for him for more years than he could remember and in the beginning when she’d taken the job she’d been terrible, barely knowing what end of the mop to use. But she’d wanted to please, wanted to work so he’d been patient until she’d learned the bar’s less glamorous routine.

Rudy smiled and turned his attention to the television. The newscaster had switched from traffic and turned the show over to Susan Martinez who wore a blood red suit jacket that sharply contrasted with her hair’s inky blackness. “Sources close to the Nashville Police Department say that there are no suspects in the murder of Dixie Simmons, a local singer beaten to death last week. Police are also investigating the death of Lexis Hanover, a private detective and teacher who was also beaten to death. Currently police are saying there is no connection between the killings.”

Rudy shook his head, deep worry spreading through his body. He’d not been too surprised when the cops had come to talk to him about Dixie’s death. The way that girl lived and the men she ran with, it was a matter of time before someone did her harm. Even when that detective had asked questions of her, he’d not worried. Dixie wasn’t the first young singer to end up brutalized or dead.

But the death of Lexis Hanover had him thinking that maybe . . . no, no, no. He halted his train of thought, refusing to give credibility to his worries. He focused on his tea, knowing it would be several more hours before he could take a break. Nikki continued to stare into her teacup, seemingly unmindful of the news or much else around her.

Nikki was like that. Simple. She didn’t ask much and if directed to work she did her chores without hesitation. She wasn’t much of a talker and she never could survive in this world alone.

Rudy’s life had been on such a different path before Nikki. And when she’d first come to live with him it had been a burden to look after her. Now, he never thought twice about seeing that she ate well, dressed herself right, or did her chores. He’d been taking care of her for so long, he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live alone, without Nikki lumbering around the house.

Rudy finished up the tea. “I’ve got to get back to the bar, Nikki. I’ll be back.”

Nikki slurped. “Okay.”

“Do you want me to take your teacup?”

Nikki glanced into her cup. “No. I still have more.”

“Put it in the sink when you’re finished. Like I showed you.”

“Okay.”

“See you soon.”

“Rudy?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

“Be careful of what?”

She nodded toward the television. “Bad guys.”

Rudy glanced toward the television, never realizing that Nikki had been paying attention. “I’ll be careful.”

“Good.”

 

 

 

“You’ve got to get out of the office,” Colleen said. “All you do is work.”

Rachel glanced up from her stack of papers. “I gave too much time away to the Annie Dawson case and now I’m way behind. It’s a busy time. It will let up soon.”

“That’s what you said last month and the month before.” Her thick hair brushed, a sparkly silver dress, and long dangle earrings winked in the lights. “Rachel, you really have to give it a rest. You can’t keep going like this.”

Her shoulder had stiffened, the pain now radiating down her back. “The light looms at the end of the tunnel.”

“The light is always out of your reach. You will never catch it.” She moved to the desk and closed Rachel’s file. “Now you have five minutes to change into fun clothes and get in the car with me. We are going to have drinks, listen to great music, and maybe dance a little.”

She rubbed the back of her neck. She needed to keep working but fatigue had slowed her thoughts, which weren’t connecting as easily. “Fine, I’ll take off.”

Colleen raised her hands to the air. “It’s a miracle.”

Rachel rose, her body stiff. “I’m not that OCD.”

Colleen rolled her eyes. “Five minutes.”

Changing was an easy proposition for Rachel because she had few clothes. She had her two suits for the office and clothes for her art but the in-between outfits weren’t many. She settled on a black pair of jeans and a funky leopard print shirt, large gold hoop earrings, and her favorite cowboy boots.

When she emerged, Colleen shook her head. “I like the look. I always forget you are really a funky artist in disguise.”

“Lawyer by day, and well, these days, lawyer by night.”

“Not tonight!” Colleen hustled Rachel out of the office and into her car. She drove to the club cutting and winding through the streets at a dizzying speed.

Rachel laughed. “You should drive for NASCAR.”

“If the law doesn’t work for me, I might.” She beeped her horn and cut through an intersection seconds before the light turned red.

“Stick with the law. Really.”

They arrived at Rudy’s on Broadway after ten. Colleen found street parking a block away. As they moved closer to the honky-tonk the sounds of music drifted out. The tension in Rachel’s shoulders melted and she realized she needed this break.

The place was packed with bodies bumping against bodies. Some danced, others talked and many watched the singer on stage. Rachel paid their cover charge and the two headed to the bar. Colleen ordered white wine. Rachel ordered a soda. She took a long sip, savoring the cool liquid.

She glanced up toward the stage, curious about the woman whose voice added a throaty feminine edge to a Willie Nelson song. Faded jeans and a black silk top showed off the woman’s petite figure as an explosion of curls framed her face. Eyes closed as she held the microphone, the singer was lost in emotion.

Rachel studied the singer. “I’ve seen her before.”

“Really?” As Colleen sipped her wine she waved to a tall broad-shouldered man.

Rachel watched the singer. “How did you hear about her?”

“A friend of a friend.”

Memories that didn’t jive with this setting pushed to the front of her mind. “I’ve met her. She’s a cop. She works forensics for Nashville PD.”

Colleen grinned. “I know. Her name is Georgia.”

Rachel lowered her soda. “Georgia Morgan. She’d worked Lexis Hanover’s crime scene.”

Colleen paled. “Oh, Rachel, I didn’t know that. I heard from some of my buddies that she’s a great singer.”

Rachel glanced around the room at the patrons. They were all in plain clothes but it wasn’t hard to guess that most were cops. Short hair, a bearing that radiated power and confidence. Shit. “We are in cop central.”

“Look, if this feels weird, we can leave.”

“No.” She would not run or hide. “That’s fine. And she’s good.” Rachel was drawn in by the sound of Georgia’s voice. “How does a singer that good end up working as a cop?”

“My guess is she likes to eat and pay her rent. Let’s face it, this town is full of talented starving artists.” Colleen caught sight of a man who raised his glass to her. “Hey, do you mind if I go visit with a friend?”

“Have at it. I’ve my soda and the music is great.”

“Mix and mingle.”

Rachel grinned. “Don’t push your luck.”

As a laughing Colleen threaded through the crowd, Rachel leaned back against the bar and watched as Georgia sang to the crowd. People close to the stage had eyes only for her. She had them wrapped around her finger as she moved across the stage with a seductive familiarity.

“She’s not half bad.” The deep baritone voice had her turning to find Deke Morgan standing beside her with a beer. He wore a casual dark shirt, jeans, and simple cowboy boots. He smelled faintly of soap and his hair was damp. She imagined him dashing from his desk to shower before hurrying here.

“I never would figure you two as siblings. She definitely received the talent genes.”

“How’d you finger us for sibs?”

“I went to Lexis’s house. She was working the scene.”

He nodded. “Still don’t see how you connected the dots.”

“Name tag helped. The in-your-face attitude sealed the deal.”

A hint of a smile lit his eyes. “No argument here. She can run circles around the Morgan men.”

Energy radiated from him. “Has she been singing long?”

“Since she could talk.”

Nervous energy thrummed in her veins. “Looks like you’ve collected most of Nashville’s finest out here tonight.”

His gaze remained on her as if the crowd held no interest. “It’s a retirement party for my partner, KC. He asked if Georgia would sing for him.”

“KC Kelly. He worked with your dad.”

“He did.”

When he didn’t elaborate, she asked, “How many cops are here tonight?”

He sipped his beer, staring at her. “A lot.”

Rachel watched Georgia move across the stage as if she were right at home. “I almost didn’t recognize her.”

“I could say the same for you. I did a double take.”

“The real me emerges.” In her pencil skirts and tailored jackets she felt as if she had on her armor. Now dressed as herself she felt more exposed.

“I’m guessing the real you doesn’t get out much.”

He didn’t say whether he liked the real her or not and she found herself wondering. And her caring one way or the other wasn’t good. His opinion shouldn’t grace her radar. “No. Not these days.”

“So what dragged you out among the living tonight?”

“Colleen. My law partner. She’s been threatening to get me out for weeks.”

“Good for her.”

She shifted her weight, trying to keep the muscles in her shoulder from stiffening.

“How’s the shoulder?”

“I’ll survive.”

“Any trouble since that night?”

She was kind of enjoying herself and didn’t want to talk about trouble. “All is clear. I did call the ME. She won’t release Lexis yet but said she’d do it as soon as she could. Thank you.”

“You are welcome.” He held her gaze.

Somewhere in her, ice melted. As much as she wanted to lean into the feeling, she recognized it was not a good idea. The twice-divorced Morgan was as intense as she, and she likened their personalities to fire and gasoline.

He glanced toward the stage as Georgia hit a high note at the end of her song. When she finished the crowd clapped, wild and excited.

Rachel clapped. “Does she sing here often?”

Deke held a thumbs-up to his baby sister. “No. This is her first time. She’s been after the owner for some time and then KC asked to have her sing.”

“I hear it’s hard to get a gig here.”

“It is.”

She sipped her soda. “Annie Rivers Dawson sang here. She mentioned it in one of her letters.”

He cocked a brow, as if she’d told him something he already knew. “Did she?”

She leaned a fraction closer. “Have you had a chance to look at her letters?”

“A guy in Forensics is looking at them. We’re set to meet Wednesday.”

“I would like to be in on that meeting.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Slowly he shook his head. “Have you always been this pushy?”

“Since the day I was born.”

“Anybody ever tell you to be patient?”

That made her laugh. “Plenty of times but as you can see I haven’t listened.”

The crowd around them swelled with congratulations as Georgia cut her way through, talking and laughing. When she reached Deke she blew out a breath. “So what are you two huddled up here talking about?” She opened a bottle of water and drank heavily. “Looks serious.”

Deke straightened and she sensed the veil dropping once again. “Talking shop.”

Rachel nearly mentioned Annie’s letters but Deke’s demeanor kept her silent. “Boring.”

Georgia’s eyes danced. “Didn’t look boring. Looked intense.”

“Not so dramatic.” Rachel noted some of the tension in Deke’s body ebbed. “I didn’t recognize you when I first arrived.”

“Georgia sans the uniform. The real me. Or at least the other half of me.”

“Your brother says you’ve been singing since you were little.”

“About drove the clan crazy.” She studied Rachel. “You do not have a Tennessee accent.”

“Guilty as charged. I grew up all over the country and three foreign countries. Army brat.”

“So how many places did you live?”

“Fourteen. We moved to Nashville after my parents divorced. Mom got work here as a teacher. I was sick of moving so I stayed.”

“I used to dream about being the kid that moved. But I was the kid that grew up in the same house, who knows the same friends from elementary school and who didn’t go away to college.”

“I dreamed of being the kid that didn’t move. Grass is always greener, I suppose.”

“I guess.” Georgia glanced at the clock. “Time for my next set.”

Deke raised a brow. “You’re getting a second set?”

“Yeah. Rudy liked what he heard, believe it or not. Said I could sing more songs. I owe KC a big thank-you for setting this all up.”

Deke smiled. “Good for you.”

“Yeah, I know. Right?” She drank more water. “See you two lovebirds later.”

Rachel and Deke both stiffened at the comment.

After a moment’s pause, Deke raised his bottle and when KC approached with a woman in tow, smiled his relief. “The man of the hour.”

KC had his beefy arm slung around the woman’s shoulders. The hints of makeup on her eyes and cheeks suggested she didn’t use it often.

Rachel cocked her head and studied the woman. “I know you.”

The woman returned Rachel’s gaze. “Shoulder injury.”

“Yeah. You were my nurse the other night, right?”

“That’s right.”

Rachel shook her head. “My memory was a bit fuzzy.”

KC sipped his beer. “This is my gal, Brenda. And I guess you know she’s a nurse.”

Deke kept a sliver of light between his body and Rachel’s. Close but not touching. “Brenda did a great job.”

Brenda’s gaze sparked with curiosity. “You take those meds?”

“The first night. And thank you.”

KC studied Rachel. “You are that attorney.”

“Guilty.”

KC picked at the label on his beer bottle. “You are a pain in the ass.”

“So I’ve been told.”

He leaned toward her, the scent of beer thick on his breath. “If I hadn’t had a few beers I’d have a word or two to share with you.”

She’d faced her share of angry cops. Still wasn’t fun but it got easier. “You can find me most days in my office.”

Brenda tugged on KC’s arm. “This is a night to have fun. No work.”

Georgia moved up on stage and joked with a couple of the band players. “KC, where are you? Come on up here?”

KC’s annoyance ebbed as he glanced toward the stage. “Looks like the boss is calling.”

“Don’t let us stop you,” Deke said.

Without a glance back to Rachel, KC, with Brenda in tow, headed to the stage.

Deke remained at Rachel’s side until Georgia called him up on stage. “Duty calls.”

“Have fun.”

“Always.”

Deke moved through the crowd, which naturally parted as he nudged his way forward. On stage he kissed Georgia’s cheek. She laughed, clearly enjoying the night.

Rachel felt a twinge of jealousy for the woman so in her element. It had been a long time since she’d not felt like the perpetual fish out of water.

To her surprise, a smiling Oscar McMillian approached her. He had a mixed drink in his hands and was dressed in dark jeans and a gray V-neck sweater. His dark hair was slicked back. His grin was wide and welcoming. “Attorney Wainwright. You are about the last person I’d expect to see here.”

She hugged her soda closer. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?”

“You are on trial for murder. Do you really think partying is wise?”

“I didn’t kill anyone. And I’m innocent until proven guilty.”

The cavalier attitude surprised her. It took more stones than brains to crash a cop party. “Perception is important. You should live low-key until the trial.”

“That could be months. And I’m not going to change my life because the cops screwed up.” He sipped his drink and seemed to will his anger to calm. “Like I said, I’d never have expected to see you here.”