The Smoky Mountain Mist. Paula Graves

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СКАЧАТЬ left the exam area without being asked, giving Rachel a chance to change back into her own clothes in private. When Rachel called her name once she’d finished dressing, Delilah came back around the curtain.

      “Look, I’m going to be straight with you,” Delilah said. “Because I’d want someone to be straight with me. I know about Mark Bramlett and the murders. I know that they all seemed to be connected to Davenport Truck-ing in some way. Or, more accurately, connected to you.”

      Rachel put her fingertips against her throbbing temples. “Why do I feel as if everybody knows more about what’s going on in my life than I do?”

      “If someone’s targeting you, up to this point it’s been pretty oblique. But drugging you up and leaving you to fend for yourself outside on a cold October night while you’re high as a kite?” Delilah shook her head. “That’s awfully direct, if you ask me. You really need to figure out why someone would want you out of the way.”

      “You think I should go to the police.”

      The other woman’s brow furrowed. “Normally, I’d say yes.”

      “But?”

      “But is there any reason why it might not be in your best interest for the police to be involved?”

      Rachel’s head was pounding. “I don’t know. I can’t think.”

      “Okay, okay.” Delilah laid her hands on Rachel’s shoulders, her touch soothing. “You don’t have to make that decision right now. Let’s get you home and settled in. Is there someone there who can keep an eye on you until you’re feeling more like yourself?”

      “No,” Rachel said, remembering that her stepmother had made plans to leave for Wilmington after the funeral. Diane’s sister had invited Diane to visit for a few days. Paul had his own place, and while she and her stepbrother were friendly enough, she wouldn’t feel comfortable asking him to play nursemaid. She already suspected he thought she was in over her head at the trucking company. He might even be right.

      She didn’t want to give him more reasons to doubt her.

      “I’d offer to watch after you myself, but I have to drive to Alabama as soon as I can get away. I have a meeting with my boss, and it’s a long drive. But you’re welcome to stay at the house while I’m gone.”

      She wondered if Seth was staying there, too. She didn’t let herself ask. “I’m okay. I’ll be fine at home by myself.”

      “Are you sure?”

      Rachel nodded, even though she wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

      “SMOKY JOE” BRESLIN WASN’T exactly thrilled when Seth roused him from bed on a rainy morning to answer a few questions, and his responses were laced liberally with profanities and lubricated by a few shots of good Ten-nessee whiskey. Seth had never been much of a drinker, so he nursed a single shot while Breslin knocked back three without blinking.

      “Yeah, she was in here last night. Looked like a hothouse flower in a weed patch, but she seemed to be enjoying the music. And there were a few fellows who enjoyed lookin’ at her, so who was I to judge?”

      “Was she alone?” Seth asked.

      “No, came in with some frat boy type. He tried a little something with her and she gave him a whack in the face, and some of the boys escorted him out. Not long after that, she headed out of here.”

      “What kind of condition was she in?”

      “I don’t know. I wasn’t really watchin’ when she left. I know she wasn’t fallin’-down drunk or nothin’.”

      “You didn’t check to make sure she wasn’t driving?”

      “Hell, you know how it can get around here on a busy night! I can’t babysit everybody who comes here for the show. I do know she didn’t have much to drink, so I didn’t worry too much about it.”

      Which meant that unless she’d gone somewhere else to drink, it hadn’t been alcohol alone that had put her up on that bridge.

      “What can you tell me about the frat boy?” he asked Joe.

      The older man grimaced. “Just some slicked-down city fellow. You know the type, comes in here with his nose in the air givin’ everyone the stink-eye like he was better than them. I was glad to see the girl give him what for, if you want my opinion.” Joe poured another glass of whiskey and motioned to top off Seth’s.

      Seth waved him off. “Did he pay for the drinks?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Cash or credit?”

      “Credit. One of them gold-type cards for big spenders. Flashed it like it was a Rolex watch or something.”

      “Would you have the receipt?”

      Joe cut his eyes at Seth. “You pullin’ another scam? I don’t put up with that around here. You know that.”

      “No, no scam.” He took no offense. “The woman he hit on is a friend of mine, see. I’d like to talk to the man about his behavior toward her.”

      “I see.” Joe shot him an approving look. “Well, tell you the truth, she seemed to handle him pretty good all by her lonesome. But I’ll see what I can dig up for you. Just promise me you’re not gonna beat him up or shoot him or anything like that. I don’t want the cops trackin’ you back here and giving me any trouble.”

      “Just want to talk,” Seth assured him, although if he found out that Frat Boy had anything to do with drugging Rachel Davenport, he couldn’t promise he’d keep his fists to himself. She’d come way too close to going off the bridge the night before. She wouldn’t have been likely to survive that fall.

      Maybe the guy had slipped her something hoping it would make it easy to get lucky with her rather than to make her go off the deep end and hurt herself, but that distinction sure as hell didn’t make drugging her any less heinous a crime.

      And there was still the matter of the murders. Over the past two months, four women connected to Rachel Dav-enport had been murdered in what had initially seemed like random killings. Until investigators found the perpetrator and learned he’d been hired to kill those women and make the deaths look random. With his dying words, he’d admitted that it was “all about the girl.”

      All about Rachel Davenport.

      Joe came back from the cluttered office just off the bar bearing a slip of paper. “Guy signed his name ‘Davis Rogers.’”

      The name wasn’t familiar. Could have been someone Rachel knew from Maryville or even an old friend in town for her father’s funeral. He’d ask her about him when she got back from the hospital.

      The thought of her trip to Knoxville made his chest tighten as he left Smoky Joe’s Saloon and headed toward the road to Maryville. He’d taken the past two days off work, but he was scheduled to work the next four. He had some vacation time coming to him, and he figured this might be the right time to take it.

      He was surprised to find Paul Bailey in the office when he asked to see СКАЧАТЬ