Truth and Consequences (5 page)

If Jason Harding thought he could intimidate her into giving up an investigation, he had another think coming. With a loofah saturated with soap suds, Kathleen scrubbed at her skin. Anger burned in her, anger at Harding and herself. Him for being a son of a bitch. Her for giving in to his sleazy, sexual bullying.

She ought to run him in for obstruction, except then she’d have to explain what he’d done in front of Judge Virgil Holton. At the image, a shudder ran down her body. The old boy network would have fun with that one. With imaginary laughter ringing in her head, she rinsed the soap from her body, the rivulets of water too much like caressing fingers. The steam surrounding her echoed the heat from Jason’s body and pinpricks of desire flushed through her.

“Stop it. Stop thinking of him that way.” She worked shampoo through her hair with punishing force, trying to wash the sensations from her mind. “Think of him as the corrupt jerk he is.”

A
lying
, corrupt jerk.

A lying, corrupt jerk with sexy hands and the most compelling green eyes she’d ever seen.

Growling, she stuck her head beneath the spray. Suds burned her eyes and she stood there until the water grew cold. Anything to cool her heated skin.

Wrapped in a towel, she applied light makeup and rubbed the moisture from her hair. With the hair dryer, she dried her shaggy cut, using a styling pomade to piece out sections. She fingered the layers, wondering if she should let it grow again. For fifteen years, she’d kept the copper strands short.

In her teens, her hair had fallen in a shining sheet almost to her waist. Tom had loved her hair, loved wrapping it around his hand when kissing her or when they made love. She’d wanted to cut it, for convenience’s sake, but at his protest, she’d given in and left it long.

A memory rose of the tiny bathroom in their Macon apartment, rough sobs shaking her body, silken copper littering the floor as she took the scissors to her hair. Pain swamped her and she gasped, bending forward. Lord, it hurt now the way it had then when she’d peered into—

Screams echoed in her head. Her jerky movements knocked the dryer from its perch and it clattered to the countertop. Leaning against the wall, Kathleen closed her eyes to keep the stinging tears at bay. This was never going away. She didn’t deserve to have it go away. She deserved the anguish, deserved it because she’d failed in the worst possible way a woman could.

A few minutes later, she repaired the damage to her makeup and slipped into her standard khakis and GBI polo. Once more buried beneath composed resolve, the ache of grief tried to pulse, and she squashed it. She couldn’t change what had happened, but she didn’t have to dwell on it. And she didn’t have to open herself up to that kind of hurt again.

The worst pain of her life came out of trying to be the woman her husband, her parents, expected her to be. She was infinitely better off being the cop the GBI expected. Failure there meant censure, a mere blow to her pride. Failure as a woman meant so much more.

Jason Harding was dangerous. Dangerous simply because he was associated with the den of rattlesnakes in Haynes County.

Dangerous because he made her feel like a woman again.

Freshly brewed coffee tickled Kathleen’s nose and a couple of voices drifted down the hall, early morning shoptalk, even on a Sunday morning. So she wasn’t the only one with an open case, obviously.

She flipped to the next page of the computer printout on her desk. Harding’s background was about as impressive as his home. She rubbed a finger over his high school graduation date, three years after her own. A twelve-year stint in the army with no commendations. A general discharge. The last year he’d worked as a security guard and been fired from that job before applying with the sheriff’s department in Haynes County.

No arrests, but a string of traffic violations. She eyed the list of speeding tickets from various states. Lord, it was a wonder the man even had a license to drive.

His credit report was atrocious. Collections, garnishments, returned checks, even a repossession.

All of it added up to a man ripe to be seduced by money.

She dropped the paper and rubbed at her temples. Why did she care anyway?

“What are you reading?” Altee set a cup of coffee in front of her.

“Jason Harding’s background file.” Sipping the sugar- and cream-laden liquid, Kathleen groaned at her partner’s knowing expression. “God, Altee, don’t look at me like that.”

Altee leaned back in her chair, designer loafers propped on the edge of her desk. “You went to see him last night, didn’t you?”

“I went to ask him some questions.”

“That couldn’t have waited until this morning?”

Kathleen placed her cup next to the plant her mother sent for her birthday. She fingered the brown edge of a leaf. “I wanted to catch him off-guard.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t get caught off-guard, going in that county without backup. God, Kath, rookies know better.” With a disgusted sigh, Altee straightened in her chair.

“I know.” She remembered the mingled fear and excitement incited by being trapped between Harding and her Jeep. Okay, it was official—she’d gone way too long without sex for that to give her a jolly. “It won’t happen again. Trust me.”

Altee fixed her with a hard look. “Promise me.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it, Palmer. Those boys don’t play. Think about the state trooper who disappeared over there. We never even found his car. Or what about Calvert’s daddy? These sons of bitches are good at killing people and getting away with it.”

Ice shivered down her spine, but she covered the fear with anger. “Fine.”

Altee jumped to her feet and prowled the office, one hand waving in the air. “Damn it, do you even realize what you did? Okay, Harding is sexy as hell, but you can’t forget what he is.”

“I’m not.” Defensiveness stung Kathleen’s throat, making it hard to get the words out.

“Right.” Altee glared, her full, bee-stung lips compressed to a thin line. “You already did. Maybe we should pass this case off—”

“No.”

“But—”

“I said no.” She might be a failure in the personal areas of her life, but not as a cop. She could handle this like a professional. She
would
handle this like a professional and she wouldn’t let some sick attraction to a corrupt deputy get in the way. “We’re not handing it off.”

Altee threw up her hands. “Fine.”

“Fine.” They stared at each other for a long moment and Kathleen dropped her gaze first. “Let’s walk down to the lab and see if Whitlock has anything on the truck. I know Williams hasn’t even started on the autopsies yet.”

The S-10 sat alone in the garage, a forlorn last testament to the loss of two lives. The doors stood open, the seat on a table nearby.

“Hey, Whitlock. You around?” Kathleen’s voice echoed through the metal building.

Allan Whitlock popped up from the other side of the truck. “Palmer. Price. Report’s not ready yet.”

Altee shrugged. “We just wanted to see if you had any preliminary findings.”

A wry grin twisted Whitlock’s mouth. “Yeah. The kids shot themselves by using astral projection.”

Electric excitement sizzled along Kathleen’s nerves. She exchanged a quick glance with her partner. “What do you mean?”

White lab coat flapping, Whitlock gestured at the cab. “Gunpowder residue. The amount inside is too low.”

“So the shots came from outside the truck.”

“Maybe.” Whitlock shrugged.

Frustrated, Kathleen resisted the urge to smack the lab technician who always talked in circles and riddles. “You just said the gun couldn’t have gone off in the cab.”

“That’s not what I said. The amount seems low, but if the shots were close to the bodies, a lot of the residue will be on the clothing, which hasn’t been checked yet.”

“Whitlock, I hate you.” Altee sighed and stuck her hands in her back pockets. “Would you call us when you have some useful information?”

“Definite useful information,” Kathleen added.

“How’s this for useful?” Whitlock asked, his voice mild. “The swabs we took off Jim Ed Reese’s hands yesterday? Tested positive for residue.”

Kathleen’s excitement, which had subsided, sprang to life again. “Thanks, Whitlock. We’ll check in with you later.”

He waved them off and Kathleen pulled her partner outside. “Let’s take a ride over to Haynes County.”

“It’s not enough for a warrant. You know how pissy Judge Holton is about probable cause and we both know this ain’t it.”

Kathleen smiled. “Yeah, but it’s enough to make Reese nervous. He should be on the last day of his rotation this week. Let’s go harass him a little at work, see if we can trip him up.”

“We might as well go see if we can get Reverend Johnson to say the Second Coming isn’t imminent.”

Kathleen nudged Altee’s shoulder. “Oh, ye of little faith. Don’t think Jim Ed’s ego will get the better of him?”

“It’s not his ego I’m worried about,” Altee mumbled. “It’s your attraction to Goodbody.”

“Altee. Stop it.” Kathleen pulled her sunglasses from her pocket and slid them on, seeking protection from the sun as well as her partner’s all-seeing eyes. “We covered this. I’m not attracted to him.”

“Oh, sure. And Calvert’s not the hottest eligible bachelor in Chandler County.”

Kathleen forced a laugh. “Calvert’s not hot.”

“Oh, girl. You
do
have a serious case of denial. You haven’t even figured out that it’s not Reese you’re going to see. It’s Harding.” Altee slipped on her own sunglasses. “Come on. Let’s go stir up a mess of trouble.”

Jason stared at the thick hamburger sitting on the square of greasy waxed paper. His stomach revolted. He pushed the sandwich to one side and reached for his iced tea. A nagging headache lingered at his temples and the noise of the squad room did nothing to relieve it.

“Jim Ed, you got a headache powder?”

“Yeah.” Chewing, his cousin rummaged in the desk drawer and tossed him the small packet.

“Thanks.” Jason tilted his head back and dropped the white powder on his tongue. He grimaced at the bitter taste and gulped tea to wash down the painkiller.

“Look like a flock of vultures to you, Altee?” Kathleen Palmer’s voice filled the room and Jason strangled on the swallow of tea. He coughed, eyes watering, the acidic medicine mingling with the syrupy-sweet tea.

Holy shit. What was she
doing
here?

“No. Vultures have better manners.” Derisive laughter colored Altee’s drawl.

“What do you want, Palmer?” Jim Ed demanded.

Jason lifted his head, gulping from the cup again. Kathleen leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, an anticipatory smile flirting around her lips. She didn’t look at him, her attention focused on Jim Ed.

“Oh, just stopped by to chat.” She straightened and stepped into the room. The two women moved with the well-oiled timing of a long partnership. The deputies’ lunchtime chatter fell silent, the television providing the only background noise. Nerves jerked in Jason’s stomach.

“We ain’t got time to talk to you.” Anger darkened Jim Ed’s face.

“Really? Not even if I told you we have some very interesting lab results?” If they were vultures, Kathleen was a lioness moving in for the kill. A beautiful lioness with a feral smile.

Jim Ed took another bite of his hamburger. A couple of deputies slipped out of the room.

Altee perched on the edge of the closest desk and Kathleen pulled out a chair. The women exchanged a glance and Kathleen leaned forward, still smiling. “Don’t you want to know what we found, Reese?”

The look Jim Ed shot her way vibrated with hatred. “No.”

“What if I told you that yesterday your hand was covered with gunpowder residue?”

With a smile, Jim Ed leaned back in his chair. “I’d say I’d been on the range earlier in the day.” He flicked a hand in Jason’s direction. “With him.”

“You want to know what’s really weird, Jim Ed?” Altee’s smooth voice slid over Jason’s ears. “All that residue on you and hardly any in the cab of that truck. Isn’t that strange?”

“Whatever, Price.” Rising, Jim Ed tossed his hamburger wrapper in the trash. He pointed at Jason. “You ready to get back to work?”

This time, Kathleen glanced at Jason and he cringed at her disdain. Now he was lower than gum on her shoe. More like dog crap.

Holding her gaze, he stood and discarded his own burger. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

“Don’t let us keep you.” Kathleen stood and Altee slid from the desk. “We know how busy you boys are, protecting and serving.”

Jim Ed watched the two women leave, his fingers caressing the butt of his gun. He glanced at Jason, sending foreboding crashing through his brain. “We’ve got to do something about those bitches.”

The scent of biscuits and eggs drifted from Kathleen’s small kitchen, accompanied by the scraping of a spatula against a skillet. Vicious scraping. Kathleen shook her head. Obviously, Altee wished that cast-iron skillet was some part of Montaine Walker’s anatomy.

“So tell me what happened last night,” Kathleen called, picking up a magazine from the floor and dropping it back in a basket.

“I went over there, planning to fix him a special dinner since I broke our date last weekend. Used my key to let myself in.” The distance between the kitchen and living room did little to soften the hurt anger in Altee’s voice. “Should have saved myself the trouble. Montaine already had himself a special dinner.”

“How old was she?”

“About nineteen and full of attitude, even buck naked. That’s it, Kath. I’m through with men.”

“You said that the last time.” Kathleen folded the fringed, silk throw, arranging it over the back of the couch. “Maybe you just need to look in different places.”

“I found him at my mama’s church.”

“Oh. Yeah. I forgot about that.”

“I’m serious. I’m through looking for Mr. Right and happily ever after. I’m going to go out and have fun until I’m too old and gray, then I’m still going to try to kick up my heels with my wrinkly old ass hanging out of a skirt that’s way too short.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Kathleen wandered into the kitchen.

Altee slid fluffy scrambled eggs onto waiting plates and shot her an irritable look. “I’m not going to stop living because of a man.”

Kathleen refused to rise to the bait. “You think I have?”

“Not because of a man, but you’ve buried yourself under all that grief and guilt you carry around.”

Lord, she wished Altee would beat around the bush every once in a while. She poured coffee, her hands shaking. “I have a life.”

“No. You have a job that consumes you.” Altee dropped mile-high flaky biscuits next to the eggs. “Going out on the occasional duty date your mama sets up is not living. Dancing with Calvert at all those fundraisers you attend for your daddy is not living. Just face it. The real you is in that coffin with—”

“Stop.” Kathleen slammed the carafe back on the coffee maker. “Enough. I’m going to get the paper.”

Walking down the long hall to the front door, she struggled against the anger and pain. Altee
knew
this subject was off-limits. Everyone did. The problem was, once Altee got on a tear about something, getting her to back off was beyond difficult. Kathleen did
not
want to spend the entire workday hearing about how she needed a life.

She swung the inner door open and the snake fell on her bare foot. Pure, primal dread trickled down her back.

“God Almighty!” She leapt back, the rattlesnake’s body rolling over on the floor. A moment passed before the realization the snake was dead sank into her brain.

“What’s wrong?” Footsteps thudded on the floor and concern laced Altee’s voice.

“That was in my door.” Kathleen nudged the lifeless snake with her toe and revulsion pulsed in her veins.

Trying to conceal the tremors running along her skin, Kathleen turned to face Altee. Her partner stared back, her skin yellow, SIG nine millimeter in hand, eyes huge and dark in her face.

Altee’s throat moved with her swallow. “I told you, Kath, these boys don’t play.”