Without You. Mary Baxter Lynn

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      Jackson told him.

      “Surely the detective doesn’t think you had anything to do with her death.”

      “Apparently he does, as I’ve been issued an unofficial invitation to appear at the precinct for more questioning.”

      “Man oh man, that’s unbelievable.”

      If you only knew the half of it, Jackson thought grimly. Combined with his other growing problem, this was getting close to becoming more than even he could handle. And he could handle a lot.

      Terrance rubbed his mustache, then his beard. “So, what are you going to do?”

      “See Hallie.”

      Again, Terrance’s mouth gaped. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

      Jackson’s features darkened even more. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion or your approval.”

      Terrance flushed, but he stood his ground. “I know you didn’t, but why Hallie, who’s not even a criminal lawyer? Though I’m sure someone in her firm is. If that’s why you’re seeing her—”

      Jackson cut him off. “Look, I have to go.” At the door, he whipped around. “I’ll call you. Meanwhile, see to things.”

      Terrance lopped a leg over the bar stool, his features pinched.

      “What’s with you? You look like someone just stepped on your dick.”

      Terrance threw Clyde Latham, the bartender, a disgusted look. “You have a mouth problem, Latham. You’d best not let the boss hear you talk like that or you’ll be in the unemployment line. You know how he feels about offending the customers.”

      Undaunted, Clyde grinned. “You’re not a customer.”

      “Then, you offend me personally. How’s that?”

      Latham was a big, burly guy who was as competent as he was good-looking. He, too, had a gift for gab with the customers, and his big grin and laugh brought a lot of business to Elan. Still, Terrance didn’t much care for him, though he hadn’t said so. He had learned long ago to keep his mouth shut.

      Latham shrugged, then asked, “You want a drink?”

      “Not right now. I have too much on my mind.”

      “If you’re talking, I’m listening.”

      He shouldn’t vent to Clyde, but since his girlfriend, Jessica, wasn’t available, Clyde would do in a pinch. Besides, what had just happened affected everyone at the club. “Jackson might be in a bit of a tight spot.”

      “How?” Clyde was wiping some glasses, but he stopped mid-action and stared at Terrance.

      “Roberta Klein was found dead this afternoon.”

      “You’re joking.”

      “Not hardly.” The remark irritated Terrance and he didn’t bother to hide it.

      “So, what are you saying? That Jackson had something to do with it?”

      “No,” Terrance snapped. “But the police obviously think he might have.”

      Clyde’s eyes widened, then he whistled.

      “The guy who just left was from Memphis PD. He told Jackson he was the last one to see Roberta alive.”

      “Man, I hate that she’s dead. She was a nice lady.”

      “I hate it, too. But I hate Jackson’s involvement more.” Terrance scratched his head, a habit he had when he was nervous. And was he ever nervous. “Maybe I will have a drink, even though I’m about to be on full-fledged duty.”

      “Scotch on the rocks?”

      Terrance nodded.

      After he’d felt the liquor hit his stomach with a burn then a punch, he felt better. Jackson would skin him alive if he knew he was drinking when the yuppie work crowd was due. Big drinkers, all of them, which meant they needed to be watched.

      Still, he wouldn’t let his drink go to waste, not when he needed it so badly. What a turn of events. If Jackson… Terrance shut that thought down. Underneath his smooth facade, Jackson was tough as nails. And a fighter.

      But if he was really a suspect, then things could get tough. If worse came to worst, Terrance knew Jackson would depend on him to keep the club running up to par. With that in mind, he pushed his unfinished drink away.

      “So has he been arrested?”

      Clyde’s deep voice pulled him out of his dark thoughts. “Not yet. He went to the station of his own free will.”

      “Still, the fact he’s a suspect ain’t good.”

      “It’s downright scary is what it is.”

      “Hope he’s got a good lawyer.”

      Now, that was the kicker, Terrance thought, but he couldn’t say as much. By making a beeline to Hallie, Jackson showed that where she was concerned, the little head was still overruling the big head. But that wasn’t his problem, he reminded himself.

      After looking at his unfinished drink with yearning, Terrance got up and made his way back to his office to get ready for the evening.

      Two

      “So how’s the case progressing?”

      Hallie Hunter looked straight into her boss’s eyes and quipped, “Like your worst nightmare.”

      Winston Bastrop pushed back in his chair and chuckled. “I can always depend on you to tell it like it is.”

      Hallie’s grin was short-lived. “Isn’t that one of the reasons you hired me?”

      “Absolutely.”

      Normally her private meetings with the founder and senior partner of the firm Bastrop, Tate, and Jones were not this amicable. Though she knew Winston admired her and her ability to get the job done, they didn’t always agree on her method. In fact, he could be a pain in the ass because of his unbendable attitude. He looked unbendable, too.

      Winston, a crusty-voiced gentleman in his late sixties, was tall and regal with a thatch of white hair and see-all green eyes. He had a keen mind and was a law scholar, and Hallie admired him.

      Admiration aside, though, the two of them squared off more times than not, as he wasn’t wild about her feistiness and in-your-face approach to the job. But since she was the firm’s number-one divorce attorney and brought in the lion’s share of clients, he guarded his tongue and cut her more slack than normal.

      “While this might be a case from hell,” Hallie said, closing the silence, “I’m not giving in or up. The Dryers will abide by the rules or I’ll send them СКАЧАТЬ