Along Came Trouble. Sherryl Woods

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      “I need you to get over to Swan Ridge,” he told Walker. “We’ve got a problem.”

      “What kind of problem? That’s Larry Chandler’s place, isn’t it?”

      “There’s a report that he’s dead. I’ve got his wife here with me. Keep this under your hat until you see what’s going on over there. I’ll be there right behind you.”

      “Didn’t I hear that you once had a relationship with Liz Chandler?” Walker asked. “Are you sure you ought to be anywhere near the scene?”

      “Dammit, Walker, I know better than to take on the case myself. That’s why I called you, but I’m not keeping my nose out of it. I want to know everything you find the minute you come up with it. And I want you to do it all by the book, no matter how bad it looks for Mary Elizabeth.”

      “Do you think she did it?”

      “What I think doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is the truth.”

      “Noble words,” Walker said. “But what’s your gut telling you?”

      “It’s your gut that matters. Do your job.”

      “I’m on my way.”

      “And try to keep the media from finding out anything, at least until we have a fix on what went on over there.”

      “Done,” Walker promised.

      Tucker placed his next call to his sister. “I need some clothes over here—a pair of your jeans, a T-shirt, some underwear, some shoes. And I need it without a lot of questions.”

      “But—”

      “No questions, Daisy. Please, just this once, help me out without giving me the third degree.”

      “Third degrees are your business,” she said with an indignant huff. “Okay, I’ll bring everything over there. Want me to leave it in a plain brown bag on the front porch and slink away?”

      “Actually that’s not a bad idea.”

      “Fat chance.”

      “Daisy,” he warned.

      “Okay, okay, I’ve got it. Bring the clothes, leave the questions back home.”

      “Thank you.”

      “But you’ll owe me,” she told him.

      “I usually do.”

      As soon as he got off the phone, he retrieved a clean garbage bag and went looking in his trash for Mary Elizabeth’s bloodied clothes. She hadn’t exactly tried to conceal them. They were right on top, in plain view. He took that as a good sign. Less positive was the fact that there was a lot of blood, more than a person would get checking a man’s pulse. Was there as much as if she’d shot her husband at close range, maybe even struggled with him as he bled? Tucker didn’t even want to speculate on that. He’d leave it to the experts.

      He turned and saw Mary Elizabeth regarding him uneasily. Her gaze shifted to the trash bag, then back to his face.

      “Tucker?”

      He met her gaze. “What?”

      “Are you going to arrest me?”

      “I won’t even be involved in the decision,” he told her.

      Something that looked like panic flickered in her eyes. “Why not?”

      “Because by coming here, and because we have a past history, you’ve made sure I have to take myself off the case.”

      “But—”

      He cut her off. “That’s the way it has to be, Mary Elizabeth. You know that. I’ve got my best deputy heading over to Swan Ridge right now.”

      “Oh, God,” she whispered. “What have I done?”

      Tucker’s blood ran cold. “Why do you say that?”

      “I wanted you to handle this.”

      The icy fist kept a firm grip on his insides. “Because you thought I’d protect you?”

      “No. Because I trust you.”

      Tucker wanted desperately to believe that’s all it was, that she hadn’t come here hoping to use their past to keep him from delving too deeply into the circumstances surrounding Chandler’s death.

      “I hope you’re telling me the truth.”

      There was genuine hurt in her eyes when she met his gaze. “I’ve never lied to you. Never.”

      “I think maybe that’s open to interpretation,” he said quietly. “But what’s done is done. All I care about is whether you’re being honest now.”

      “I am. I swear it.”

      He nodded. “Then we’ll deal with the rest as it comes.”

      “Together?”

      He thought of the sensible reply and the one that came from his heart. “Together,” he agreed.

      All he could do was pray that he wouldn’t live to regret it.

      3

       T ucker had made one serious miscalculation when he’d called Daisy. He’d forgotten that Mary Elizabeth’s very distinctive car—a Jaguar with vanity plates he’d sometimes spotted driving too fast on the county’s back roads—had to be parked somewhere in the vicinity. He hadn’t noticed it the night before, but it was a sure bet she hadn’t walked to his house from Swan Ridge.

      He realized his mistake when his sister came barreling into the kitchen like an avenging angel and tossed a bagful of clothes straight at him. The heavy bag caught him right in the gut. She always had had a great arm, to say nothing of an amazing protective streak when it came to him and Bobby.

      “I sincerely hope those clothes are not for Mary Elizabeth,” she said, staring him down.

      “What makes you think they are?” he replied defensively.

      “Because that’s her fancy car sitting in plain view in front of your house. I’m not stupid, Tucker. Neither is anyone else in this town.” She regarded him with a worried frown. “I hope to heaven you know what you’re doing.”

      “I do,” he said, tucking a hand under her elbow and steering her straight toward the door without wasting time on the explanation she was so obviously hoping for. “Thanks for coming over here so quickly.”

      “Why does a woman with a designer wardrobe need my clothes?” Daisy inquired testily. “You two going somewhere incognito? I hate to tell you this, but it will take more than a change of clothes to pull that off.”

      Tucker СКАЧАТЬ