The Texas Ranger. Diana Palmer

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СКАЧАТЬ and distracted her, talking about the lieutenant governor’s race and asking about her party affiliation, successfully drawing her attention away from Bib Webb. When Garner asked her gently if she wasn’t thirsty, she agreed that she was. She couldn’t see Dale Jennings anywhere. She asked Garner if he wanted some punch, but he chuckled and said no at once. She didn’t question why. She was still disappointed that Brannon hadn’t shown up. She’d wanted him to see that her heart wasn’t breaking. Even if it was.

      Josie went to the punch bowl, and Henry Garner made a beeline for Webb and the brunette. He said something to them. Bib Webb smiled sheepishly and the brunette moved away from him to where the band was playing. Odd, Josie thought, and then dismissed the little byplay from her mind. She thought she heard Garner’s voice raise just a note, but she didn’t think much about it. She got a cup of the pretty red punch with ice floating in it and took several long swallows before she realized that it wasn’t just punch.

      Unused to alcohol, it hit her hard. She felt disoriented. She looked around for Dale, but she still didn’t see him anywhere. One or two of the older men started giving her pert figure speaking looks, and she felt uncomfortable. Looking for a port in a storm, she made her way back to where Henry Garner had been, only to find him gone.

      Bib Webb was sitting down in a chair, looking worried and a lot more sober than he’d been acting before. He was sitting beside the little brunette, who had a small hand on his, and was talking to him earnestly. He looked as if the world was sitting on him. But when he saw Josie, he smiled politely and nodded. She shrugged, smiled and moved back into the crowd.

      She was feeling sicker by the minute and she couldn’t find Dale. All she wanted was to go home. Mr. Garner hadn’t been drinking, so perhaps, she thought, she could ask him to drive her home. She made her way to the front door and walked out onto the porch. Down a double row of steps, past a deck and a garden path was the pier that led out onto the lake. She couldn’t see all the way to the edge of it, but she knew Mr. Garner wouldn’t be out there. She turned and went down the side of the house. On the way, she ran into Silvia.

      The beautiful woman was a little disheveled and the hand that pushed back her windblown hair was trembling. But she forced a smile and asked how long Josie had been stumbling around outside in the dark.

      It was an odd question. Josie admitted that she’d had some spiked punch and was sick. She wanted Dale or Mr. Garner to drive her home.

      Silvia had immediately volunteered. She’d only had one wine spritzer, she assured Josie and herded her toward a new silver Mercedes. She put the young woman in the car and pointedly remarked that Henry Garner’s car was still sitting there, but he’d told Bib he was going out for some cigars. She waved, but Josette couldn’t see anybody to be waved at.

      She drove Josette home. Late that night, the local news channel was full of the breaking story of the apparent drowning of philanthropist Henry Garner, whose body had been found by a guest—floating in the lake. A news helicopter hovering over the Garner and Webb estate fed grainy film to the studio for broadcast. Police cars and ambulances were visible below. It was an apparent accidental drowning, the newswoman added, because the gentleman was drunk.

      Still unsteady on her feet, but certain of her facts, Josette had immediately phoned the police to tell them that she’d just been at that party. Henry Garner had been drinking ginger ale, he wasn’t drunk, and he and Bib Webb had apparently been arguing before Garner vanished from the party. The tip was enough for the local district attorney’s office to immediately step into the investigation.

      A blackjack with blood on it was discovered in the passenger seat of Dale Jennings’s car at the scene, where police were holding guests until they could all be interrogated. Against the wishes of Bib Webb, an autopsy was ordered, which was routine in any case of sudden, unexplained violent death. The medical examiner didn’t find a drop of liquor in Garner’s body, but he found a blunt force trauma wound on the back of the old man’s head.

      The “accidental” drowning became a sensational homicide overnight.

      The best defense attorney in San Antonio was at Bib Webb’s side during a hastily called press conference, and Marc Brannon got emergency leave from the FBI, with Webb’s help, to come back to San Antonio and help investigate the murder. In no time at all, Dale Jennings was arrested and charged with first-degree murder. The blackjack in Jennings’s possession was said to be the instrument used to stun Garner; it had traces of Garner’s hair and blood on it, despite obvious efforts to wipe them off. Silvia Webb added that she’d seen Jennings near the lake, and the blackjack in Jennings’s car, just before she’d come back to the house and had taken Josette Langley home.

      Jennings didn’t confess or protest. His public defender attorney entered a plea of not guilty, evidence was presented, and Josie had to admit that she hadn’t seen Dale during the time the murder was apparently committed. But she had been in Jennings’s car on the way to the party, and she hadn’t seen any blackjack, and she said so on the witness stand.

      She also said that Bib Webb had a better motive for the old man’s death than Dale, and that he’d argued with Henry Garner that same evening. But Webb spoke to the prosecutor privately during the lunch break and gave him an ace in the hole. When she was fifteen, Josie had slipped out of her parents’ home to attend a wild party given by an older classmate. She’d ingested a drug and a senior at her school had tried to seduce her. She had been so frightened, she’d screamed and neighbors called the police. Her parents got an attorney and tried to have the boy prosecuted, but his attorney had the deposition of the emergency room physician on call the night of the incident—who testified that there had been no rape. The arresting officer, a former Jacobsville police officer named Marc Brannon, had been instrumental in getting the boy acquitted of the charges.

      Brannon had told Bib Webb’s attorney this, and Webb had given it to the prosecution to use against Josette’s defense of Jennings. Josette Langley, it seemed, had once made up a story about being raped. Ergo, how could anybody believe her version of events at the party, especially when she’d been drinking, too?

      The sensationalism of the story was such that reporters went to Jacobsville to review the old rape case, and they printed it right alongside the Garner murder trial as a sidebar. Jennings was convicted and sent to prison. Josette was publicly disgraced for the second time, thanks to Brannon. For a woman who’d made only one real mistake in her young life, she’d paid for a lot of sins she hadn’t committed. Consequently, she’d given up trying to live blamelessly, and these days she gave people hell. Her experience had made her strong.

      But she still thought of Brannon with painful regret. He was the only man she’d ever loved. There had never been another man who could even come close to him in her mind. She sighed as she remembered the way they’d been together two years ago, inseparable, forever on the phone when they weren’t exploring the city. He’d helped her study for tests that last year in college, he’d taken her to Jacobsville to go riding on the ranch. When it all blew up in her face, she thought she might die of the pain. But she hadn’t. The only problem was that Brannon was back in her life, and she was going to have to face those memories every day.

      Well, if it was going to be rough on her, she was going to make sure it was equally rough on him. She thought about giving Marc Brannon hell, and she smiled. If any man ever deserved a setback, that strutting Texas Ranger did. She was going to prove that Dale Jennings never killed Henry Garner, and she was going to rub Brannon’s nose in it so hard that he’d be smelling through his ears for the rest of his life!

      Josette ran a gentle hand over Barnes’s silky fur. “You know, if men were more like cats, we’d never have wars,” she murmured. “All you guys do is eat and sleep and sleep some more. And you don’t drive trucks and wear muddy boots and cowboy hats.”

      Barnes СКАЧАТЬ