Truth and Consequences (6 page)

“Someone killed it with one clean shot through the head. A damn good shot.” Tick straightened to his feet, gazing down at the dead snake. He slanted a grin in Altee’s direction. “Think you could do that after all that extra time you’ve been spending on the range, Price?”

“Hey, that practice has paid off.” Altee leaned against the wall and returned his grin. “But I’m good at lots of stuff, Calvert.”

“Really? You might have to show me sometime.”

Their meaningless flirtation grated on Kathleen’s exposed nerve endings. “Could you two save this for later? Altee, I thought you were swearing off men.”

“I’ll make an exception for him. He’s good to his mama—that says a lot.”

Tick chuckled, lifting the snake by its tail and dropping it into an oversized evidence bag. “You and Montaine split up?”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“He wasn’t good enough for you—”

“Hello? This isn’t a Sunday social,” Kathleen snapped, pacing a few steps down the hall. “Somebody put a freakin’ snake in my door!”

Unruffled by her anger, Tick closed the evidence bag. “What do you expect, Kath? You’re stepping on Jim Ed’s toes. He’s not going to send you candy and roses, for God’s sake.”

She glared at him, arms folded over her chest, as much to contain her fear as her anger. “You sound like you think I should back off and let him get away with murder.”

“I didn’t say that. I’m just telling you that if you go ahead with this investigation, you can expect things to get even nastier. You can’t be naïve and think he’s just going to lie down and let you build a capital murder case against him.”

“I’m not naïve.” At least, she hadn’t thought she was, but she’d believed her position with the GBI would protect her. What had she been thinking? Being a US Marshall hadn’t protected Tick’s father from Bill Thatcher’s retaliation.

“This is a typical warning. It’s a back-off statement. The next one you’re likely to find inside your mailbox. And it’ll be alive. You’ve got to be careful.” Tick’s voice brooked no arguments. “Both of you.”

The storm door swung open, admitting the young deputy who’d accompanied Tick on the call. He eyed the plastic bag Tick held. “I got the prints off the door. Are we dusting the snake for prints, too?”

At Tick’s long-suffering expression, Kathleen forced down a hysterical giggle. Tick shook his head. “Yeah, Troy Lee, we’re gonna get prints off a damn snake.”

Flushing, the young man backed out the door. “I’ll put the evidence kit back in the car.”

“You do that.” Tick waited for him to leave and rested his head against the wall, blowing out a long breath. “I swear, I’ve seen fence posts with more common sense. I think Stanton hired him just to get even with me for being a pain in the ass when I was a rookie agent.”

Altee shot him a questioning look. “Why are you taking the snake?”

He grinned and moved toward the door. “I’m going to turn him into a belt. I’m sending the prints over to the Moultrie crime lab, which means y’all will get the results before I do. But I doubt there’ll be any other than the two of you. Remember what I said about being careful.”

“I don’t think we’ll forget.” Altee closed the door behind him and turned to fix Kathleen with a stern look. “Come on, Kath. We need to talk.”

Jason dropped the office copy of his traffic citations in the wire basket. Glad the long, slow day was over, he wanted nothing more than to go home, have a beer, take a hot shower and fall into bed. Driving circles around Haynes County, answering three calls and writing a handful of speeding tickets didn’t define his idea of a productive existence.

The sheriff’s office door opened and Jim Ed stepped into the squad room, chuckling. The quality of that small laugh raised the hair on Jason’s arms.

Jim Ed clapped him on the shoulder and crossed to the coffee station. “Rough day?”

“Boring day.”

After filling his mug, Jim Ed leaned against the counter and grinned at Jason over the rim. “I bet our lady friends at the GBI don’t share your sentiments.”

His breath stopped in his throat. Forcing himself to inhale and exhale, he shrugged. “What do you mean?”

“We left Kathleen Palmer a little calling card this morning. If she has any sense at all, she’ll back off.”

Jason dropped his citation book on the desk and went to pour himself a cup of coffee. Anything to keep his hands too busy to wrap around Jim Ed’s throat. “What kind of calling card?”

“A dead five-foot rattler.” Jim Ed chuckled again, a twisted little-kid-at-Christmas sound. “In her front door.”

Visions of Kathleen opening a door and a rattler tumbling at her feet assailed him. Jason lifted his cup and scorched coffee assaulted his tongue. “Think it’ll scare her off?”

“Who cares? If it doesn’t, there are ways.”

He didn’t even want to think about that statement. He sipped his coffee, pretending to mull over his cousin’s words. “You know, there might be another way to get her to back off.”

“Yeah?”

“Stacy does what you tell her to, right?”

“She better.”

“What if I could convince Kathleen Palmer to do what I told her to?”

Lasciviousness spread across Jim Ed’s face. “Boy, you’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

“You got to admit, she looks like a sweet piece.” He had to force the words out, thanking Mrs. Louella Hatcher for three years of drama instruction. “Wouldn’t be a hardship to get close to her and convince her to do the right thing.”

Not to mention getting close to her would allow him to keep an eye on her.

Jim Ed’s lips twisted, a thoughtful frown between his eyebrows. “You think she’d look twice at you?”

Anger fired to life in his gut, and he shoved down the impulse to choke his cousin. Instead, he shrugged again. “Won’t know unless I try.”

With a shake of his head, Jim Ed drained his coffee cup. “Go for it, cousin, but I’m telling you—if you can’t get her to back off, I can.”

Kathleen Palmer’s home perched on stilts on a small lot overlooking Ocean Lake. The neighborhood was old and many of the homes were in various stages of restoration. The wooden shakes on Kathleen’s house sparkled under a new coat of white paint. Bright red geraniums sat in pottery crocks on the front porch and marched up the steps to her back deck. Ferns swung in lazy arcs from the open rafters.

Jason glanced out over the lake, appreciating the view. Man, to have that stretch of fish-rich water in the backyard. Perfect for a boat or jet ski.

A glass-topped metal table and chairs with plush cushions dominated one end of the deck. Jason knocked at the French door and wandered over to study the large square tiles spread atop newspaper on one end of the table. Polished sea glass covered the tiles in a mosaic pattern, the scent of fresh glue heavy in the air. He rubbed his thumb over a bit of bright blue glass.

“What are you doing here?” Ice coated Kathleen’s voice.

He spun, hands tucked in the pockets of his uniform pants. She stood in the doorway, legs in an open, aggressive stance. A pair of low-slung denim capris clung to fantastic legs and a pale pink blouse tied at her waist revealed an inch or so of a flat stomach. Following the direction of his gaze, she crossed her arms over her midriff.

Jason lifted his gaze to her face. “I owe you an apology.”

One eyebrow arched. Her stance didn’t change.

“I was completely out of line the other night.”

She didn’t reply, but continued to watch him with those gold-flecked eyes. Jason swallowed, tempted for a moment to spill his guts, tell her everything, reveal his true self.

Yeah, that would go over real well with his Bureau chief. This whole crazy idea of getting close to Kathleen to keep her safe was guaranteed to get him called on the carpet, but, really, what could they do? As Calvert said, he was it. The only one they could get inside.

Still she watched him. He swallowed again and rocked back on his heels. “My behavior…my attempt to intimidate you…was inexcusable.”

She shrugged. “Fine. You apologized.”

The dismissal was plain. “I told you the truth. I didn’t see anything the day before yesterday. I arrived the same time as Calvert. I saw
nothing
.”

Her hand on the doorknob, she stepped back. “I doubt you’d know the truth if it jumped up and bit you.”

He couldn’t let her go, not until she understood the seriousness of the situation. Not until she really understood how far Jim Ed was willing to go. “I know about the snake in your door.”

Her face flushed, and her entire body stiffened. “I’m sure you do.”

“Kathleen, you don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“Your cousin?” She released the door and stalked across the deck to stand in front of him. “Oh, I think I do. Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t want to see what he is.” She paused, her gaze searching his face. “Or maybe you do see and you’re willing to look the other way. Maybe you’re in this up to
your
neck as well.”

“I’m…not.” Not the way she thought, anyway.

She stared at him, minutes ticking away, and he wondered what clicked through her head. She stood close enough that he could see the pulse beating in her throat, smell the Ivory clinging to her skin.

His stomach growled, filling the silence.

Her eyebrow quirked again. “Hungry?”

“I skipped lunch.” Breakfast had been a cup of coffee in the squad room. He lived on the actual salary paid to him by the department and, after his utility bill, he had three dollars in his pocket until Friday. Gas money for the truck that got eight miles to the gallon.

She shook her head and turned away. “Come on.”

“Excuse me?”

At the door, she paused and sent him an inscrutable look over her shoulder. “I just finished cooking and I’ve never mastered the art of cooking for one. I’m inviting you to supper.”

His pride warred with hunger and the desire to be with her. The hunger and desire triumphed, sending his pride to hide in a corner and lick its nonfatal wounds. Sooner or later it would arise and get its own back. Right now, he was being offered food and Kathleen. His pride could take a hike.

She left the door open, not waiting for him to follow.

Jason stepped over the threshold. He’d expected the house to reflect her monied background. The home was rich, but not with expensive trappings. Rich with what had to be Kathleen. Rich with a sense of home and welcome that tried to wrap seductive tentacles around him.

Textures called out to him, begging to be touched—rough cotton-weave curtains, a leather couch, a silk throw, a sisal carpet over slick wooden floors. Clean, spicy scents filled the living room—cinnamon and something more elusive, mingled with the aroma of baked chicken wafting from the kitchen. Books lined built-in shelves, sharing space with a small television and a smaller stereo.

No photos. Anywhere. None of her family, friends, vacation memories.

Hell, even he kept photos of his time in Kuwait.

“Bathroom is down the hall on the left if you want to wash up.” Kathleen’s voice filtered from the kitchen.

Photographs lined the hallway—black and white shots of Chandler County landmarks. The courthouse. The ancient Baptist church. An ornate iron fence surrounding a family plot. Her parents’ home.

A door stood open on the right, revealing a small office area, striking only by its impersonal air.

When he opened the closed bathroom door, the lingering scent of Ivory enveloped him. Droplets of water glistened on the transparent glass shower and he swallowed, heat curling along his nerves.

A second door, slightly ajar, revealed her bedroom. More textures—cotton comforter and sheets, satin throw pillows, another silk throw, a fluffy rug by the bed. All in white. He had a sudden vision of her coppery hair and creamy skin against that pure white. The heat fired into full-fledged flames.

“Come on, Harding, get it together,” he whispered, running cold water over his hands. “Like you’re ever gonna make it into that bed. Give it up, man. You’re just trying to keep her safe.”

He dried his hands on a damp towel and tried not to think about that same towel smoothing water from her long legs.

This meal promised to be even longer and more torturous than his day.

What was she thinking?

Kathleen stabbed a fork into a potato, then repeated the action on its hapless partner. She shoved the pair into the microwave.

Altee was right. She was crazy.

Actually, the word her partner had used was
obsessed
. Obsessed with the past. Obsessed with this case. Obsessed with Jason Harding.

She and Altee had not parted on good terms at the end of the day.

So what did Altee’s obsessed Kathleen go and do? Feed the guy.

Lord, it was just dinner. One meal. And she intended to get answers out of him. It wasn’t like she planned to sleep with him.

The creak of his leather gun belt told her he was in the living area again. Plates and cutlery in hand, she stepped out of the kitchen. He stood in front of her bookshelves, studying the titles. Kathleen eyed the line of his back and wondered how much of the shoulder bulk was his and how much belonged to the bulletproof vest.

“I usually eat on the deck.”

He spun, not smiling. His pale green eyes drew her in, making her forget who he really was. He gestured at the plates she held. “Want me to set the table?”

“Please.” She handed the plates over, careful not to let their fingers brush. Imagining his touch was bad enough. She didn’t need the real thing to fixate on.

She returned to the kitchen for the salad bowl and platter of baked chicken breasts. He met her at the French door and took them, a quick grin playing around his mouth. The boyish expression sent an ache through her abdomen again.

This idea was the craziest she’d ever had. Getting to know him in an attempt to persuade him to open up about the chase and its aftermath. Back in the kitchen, she tossed ice in two glasses and grabbed the pitcher of iced tea. She closed her eyes for a moment.
Who are you kidding? You just want to know him, period. He intrigues you, and it’s been so long since anyone did that you’re willing to risk everything.

She should tell him it was all a mistake, tell him to go. The lab results would come in, the autopsy reports, and they’d have Jim Ed. She didn’t need to do this.

The truth was she wanted to. Her lungs closed, panic rising in her throat. Her career was all she had left, and she was throwing it away with this crazy course of action.

“Anything else?” His tenor drawl jerked her from the abyss.

Her eyes snapped open and she looked at him, sure from his watchful expression that he could see her fear and uncertainty. Feeling raw and exposed, she shoved the glasses at him. “Just these.”

He stared down at her for a long moment before turning on his heel and striding out of the kitchen. Kathleen sagged against the counter, her heart pounding a sickening rhythm against her ribs. When had everything gotten so out of control?