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Authors: Arianna Hart

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BOOK: Son of a Preacher Man
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“Why don’t you wait until the police get here?”

“I need to see it, Mar.”

Nadya climbed out of the van and made a wide circle around the broken glass. The headlights had been smashed as well, and there were scratches along the driver’s door. The extent of the damage overwhelmed her. Anger welled up, replacing the sadness. Good, anger was a strong emotion. Anger she could deal with.

The wail of a police siren caught her attention seconds before the cruiser screamed around the corner. J.T. slammed on the brakes and bolted out of the car before it rocked to a halt.

“Are you okay? Is anyone hurt? What happened?” He fired questions at her even as his gaze took in the scene.

“I’m pissed off, no one is hurt and someone trashed my car while we were at the park.”

Bill had parked the van farther down the street and walked back to them. “Mary Ellen is staying in the van with the boys. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Don’t let anyone touch the car until Parker gets here with the crime-scene kit. I’m going to check for witnesses.” He turned to Nadya. “Sit over there on the porch until I’m done. I have some questions for you as well.”

Gone was the playful J.T. from the park. He was all business now. Nadya bit back the urge to tell him what he could do with his questions. She was furious and wanted to kick something, not sit on the swing like a good little girl.

Back stiff, she marched over to the steps and sat. Her sandal tapped rapidly in irritation. God, she just wanted to scream.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

For a brief time, she’d actually thought coming to Dale would be okay. How could a couple hours in the park make her forget everything she’d learned growing up here? Just because a couple of women were nice to her didn’t mean she’d suddenly been accepted.

Tears threatened again, but she fought them back. People congregated on the lawn across the street, whispering and pointing. She wasn’t going to give them any more of a show.

A second police car pulled up a bit more sedately than J.T had. A younger man with bright red hair climbed out and pulled a tackle-box-type case out of the trunk. While he snapped pictures of her car, J.T. ambled over to where the neighbors gathered.

Nadya watched dispassionately as J.T. worked the crowd. She saw lots of shaking heads and shrugged shoulders. Every eye followed him as he made his way from person to person. An older woman smoothed her dress across her hips and several younger women flipped their hair or fixed their lipstick before he got to them.

God, after all these years, he still got every woman in town worked into a tizzy by his mere presence. She tried to look at him objectively. There were a lot of attractive men in New York. She’d dated a few, worked with a few and seen plenty on the streets. One of the biggest modeling agencies in the city used her firm, and some of her clients were male models.

None of them oozed testosterone like J.T.

His muscles didn’t come from a gym. They came from chopping wood and hiking in the forest. There was an element of danger that surrounded him that even his dimples couldn’t dispel. This man was a warrior. He’d faced death when he was in the Marines and come out the winner. That experience had stamped itself on him in some indescribable way. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was, but any woman with an ounce of estrogen left in her body immediately sat up and took notice the second he entered her vicinity. It was like he emitted a pheromone that said, “I’m an alpha male.”

God, she was as pissed off as she’d ever been and he still made her hot for him. The thought didn’t cool her temper any.

Pack it away. Compartmentalize. What do you have to do next?

In her head, she started a list of the things she’d have to do. Call a tow truck —and tow it where? She didn’t think the garage at the gas station would have the parts to fix a BMW. She’d have to call her insurance company, which made her wince. Insurance for a car in the city was astronomical already. This would raise her premiums even higher.

As Nadya organized her thoughts, Mary Ellen made her way through the crowd and across the lawn. Nadya scooched over on the step to make room for her.

“I left the boys with Mrs. Peterson down the street. She’s giving them cookies and lemonade.”

“That’s good. I don’t want them touched by this ugliness.”

Mary Ellen pulled her close. “Oh, Nad, I’m so sorry. I should have had you park your car in the garage. I just didn’t think something like this would happen in this neighborhood. We’ve had trouble with teens vandalizing the high school, but nothing like this.”

“No teenager did this. Someone who heard I was back in Dale did it.”

“You can’t know that. Maybe they picked your car because it had New York plates.”

“Mar, be serious. Has any car been trashed to this extent before? Ever?”

“But why? You haven’t done anything to anyone. No one even really knew you were back until today at the park.”

“We were gone a long time. I bet Lydia and her crew texted the news seconds after I climbed out of the van.”

“Maybe it was one of the protesters from the state forest? They could have heard about the offer from the developer and wanted to scare you off.”

“I only just heard about it today, and Hornblower left town right after he gave it to me. I haven’t even had a chance to tell J.T. yet. Only you and Bill know about it.”

“This is Dale. There are no secrets here. I bet you someone saw or heard something and word got out.” She nodded her head definitively, her mind obviously made up. “I’m gonna go inside and make some coffee for everyone. You wait here and I’ll bring you a cup. Or would you rather have tea?”

Nadya sighed. Mary Ellen thought she could solve the problems of the world with refreshments, but some things couldn’t be fixed with liberal doses of sugar. “Tea would be great, thanks.”

She heaved herself up and unlocked the front door. “Sydney, you get back here,” she called as their black lab bolted out the door.

The dog pelted towards the neighbor’s yard, barking furiously at something on the curb.

“I don’t know what has gotten into that dog. She never runs off like that.”

“Stay here, I’ll go after her. I don’t want you falling and having that baby early.” Nadya jogged over to where Sydney sat on the sidewalk, barking for all she was worth. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go back home and I’ll get you a treat. You want a treat, don’t you?”

The damn dog sat right where she was.

Nadya really didn’t want to drag her by her collar in front of all the neighbors. She looked around hopefully and saw Bill striding over.

“I don’t know why, but she ran over here and now she won’t budge,” Nadya explained.

“Hey, girl, what’s wrong? What are you barking at?” Bill squatted down by Sydney and then stood quickly. “J.T. come over here, Syd found something,”

“What? I don’t see anything.” Nadya searched the ground.

“Look, here’re some slivers of plastic that match your taillight and some blood. I bet whoever did this parked down here so he wouldn’t call attention to his plans. He probably cut himself when he smashed your taillight and brushed off the slivers before he climbed into his car.”

J.T. brought the redheaded police officer with him when he came over. “Parker, get a picture of that before you take a sample. Good job, Syd.” He patted her on the head.

“What are you going to do with that sample? Can you get DNA from something that small?” Nadya asked.

“You can get DNA from just about anything, but I doubt the chief will okay sending it to the lab in Atlanta.”

“What do you mean? Couldn’t they find out who did it from their DNA?”

“Sure, if the sample isn’t contaminated too badly, and if the DNA is on file. Of course, the crime lab in Atlanta has a backlog of murderers and rapists on the books. Chief Daniels isn’t going to spare the expense to send it to the lab when it’s for what basically amounts to a misdemeanor.”

“But someone trashed my car!”

“I know, and when I find them—believe me, I will find them—they’ll pay. But this isn’t Hollywood where the sample is processed and the villain caught by the end of the show. It may take a little time.” J.T. ran his hand across his chin. “Do you have any thoughts as to who could have done this?”

“I didn’t think anyone but you all and Hornblower knew I was in town.”

“I just don’t believe someone would do this much damage over an incident that happened twelve years ago,” Mary Ellen said, handing Bill and J.T. mugs of coffee.

“Is anyone upset with you, Bill? Have you fired anyone or nabbed anyone for poaching?”

“No, not that I can recall. Other than the protesters, things have been mighty quiet this summer.”

“So what now?” Nadya asked.

Before J.T. could answer, a white Mercedes pulled to a halt inches from the curb where Parker was crawling along snapping pictures. All four of them turned to see Orleane Campbell driving with Pansy in the passenger seat.

“J.T., could you move your car? We need to get down the street to Mrs. Johnston’s house. We’re having a Garden Club meeting and Mama hates to be late,” Pansy said, her sugary tone at odds with the glare she shot Nadya.

Obviously, Lydia had let her friend know Nadya was back in town. From what she could see, Pansy had lost her baby fat and grown into an attractive woman. Her hands glittered with rings, and Nadya was pretty sure those were Chanel sunglasses. Overall, Pansy seemed to have turned out okay. So why was she staring daggers at her?

“Just a second. We’re almost done processing the scene,” J.T. answered, tipping his wide-brimmed hat. He shot the other officer a look, and the younger man scurried off to move J.T.’s car.

“J.T., honey, you’re coming to the church auction tomorrow, aren’t you? They’re offering a day with Officer McBride again. It was one of our biggest money makers last year.” Pansy pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and leaned out the open window.

“I’m afraid I have to work tomorrow, but someone from the department will be there.”

“I didn’t realize the Garden Club had gotten so hard up it accepted just anyone,” Mary Ellen muttered in Nadya’s ear. “And do you think she could lean out the car window any more without her boobs popping out of her shirt?”

Nadya couldn’t bite back a bark of laughter, so she tried to turn it into a cough. J.T.’s glare let her know she wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Is that Nadya Sarov? I’d heard she was back in town.” Mrs. Campbell curled her lip. Surprisingly, the rest of her face didn’t move.

“Good evening, Mrs. Campbell.” Nadya didn’t offer any further cordiality. She’d been out of the South too long to bother playing those games when she didn’t have to.

“I should have known if there was trouble, you’d be in the middle of it.”

“Yeah, because she just begged to have someone smash her new car,” Mary Ellen stepped in front of Nadya. “Don’t let us keep you—we’d hate for you to miss your meeting.”

Oh God, Mary Ellen was going to get herself ostracized protecting Nadya. She had to stop this.

“I’m feeling a little overheated. I think I’ll go get myself some tea. Why don’t you come inside too? This can’t be good for the baby.” Nadya pulled on Mary Ellen’s arm until she reluctantly turned. Mary Ellen threw a furious glare over her shoulder as they crossed the lawn back to the front porch.

“I hate those two backstabbing bitches. J.T. ought to check out their alibis, although I can’t imagine they’d risk their manicures messing up your car that way.” Mary Ellen slammed the door shut and stomped to the kitchen.

“Mar, be careful. They can make your life miserable. I’ll be leaving before too long, but you still have to live here. I don’t want to bring a heap of problems down on your head. I don’t want the boys to suffer like you did for being my friend.”

“Suffer? How did I suffer? Because I wasn’t one of the
popular
girls? Please. I had more fun with you and your mama than I would have at one of their stupid sleepover parties. Why would I have wanted to be making crank calls with them when I could sleep over at your house and have your mama teach us how to dance? The only suffering I did was when you left.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye. Mama rushed us out the door so fast, I couldn’t make a call or write a note or anything.”

Mary Ellen sat at the table next to Nadya. “I know that. Well, I did after you called me. I was a nervous wreck when I went out to your place and saw what they did to the cabin. Mama called the police, and that stupid Matt Woodrow did nothing but stand there and chew on his toothpick.”

“I never understood why my mama didn’t trust Outsiders, until then. When we were on the road after that, she told me a lot more about growing up as a gypsy. Her family would get chased from place to place. Whenever something went missing or something bad happened, it was always the gypsies. I guess her father was some kind of horse whisperer or something, and different horse farms would hire him, but those jobs never lasted long.”

“I remember things like that happening when we were kids. I just can’t believe in this day and age it still happens.”

“It does, and not only to gypsies. But don’t get me started. I do pro-bono work for a refugee center. You’d be amazed at what some of those people have been through. At least Mama and I had a roof over our heads for eighteen years. And I had you.”

BOOK: Son of a Preacher Man
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