Dead Right (34 page)

Wel , not anymore.

When he didn’t move, Madeline frowned in confusion.

“Excuse me.”

He smiled. “Don’t go yet. I have something to show you.”

She hiked her purse up higher. “What’s that?”

“It’s a surprise.” He pointed over her head, down the hal .

“Check out what’s in that first bedroom.”

A hint of suspicion entered her lovely green eyes. She could tel something wasn’t quite right with him. But years of knowing him, of seeing him in church and around town and experiencing no fear—that, and her innate friendliness—

were working against her.

Stil , she was hesitant. “It’s getting late,” she said, “and I’ve got to get back to the office. I’m meeting someone there.”

He tried to act casual. “Your private investigator?”

“Yes.”

“How’s that going? Is he finding anything new?”

“Not yet.” She waited for him to move out of her way, but he couldn’t let her go. He was sure no one had seen her walk into his place. Ivy, the neighbor on his left, was gone.

And he’d watched Madeline for a long time, seen Helen and her horse-faced daughter drive away first, leaving her alone.

“That’s too bad,” he said. “Your father and I didn’t end on the best of terms, as you know, but in some ways, no one could speak to my inner self like he could.” Ray envisioned the tarantula crawling between Madeline’s bare breasts.

She wasn’t a little girl anymore. She’d be harder to handle.

But she was stil Barker’s child. He found that intensely erotic.

“I appreciate your saying so,” she said, tearing up again.

“He was a good preacher, wasn’t he?”

“The best. He was good at a lot of other things, too.

That’s what I want to show you,” he added. “Something your father gave me.”

This caught her attention. He saw her pause, glance over her shoulder toward the hal .

“I got it out last night so it’s kind of a coincidence that you’re here. It reveals the, uh, real Lee Barker like nothing else.”

She was puzzled now. And too curious to insist on leaving.

Turning, she started toward the room where she’d find the sex toys he’d already used. He wanted her so badly he almost lunged at her right there and forced her to the floor.

But it’d be better to wait, he promised himself. More shocking. More electrifying. And more private, as he’d taped thick black paper over the window in that room.

She was nearly at the door. When he was finished with her, he’d have to figure out how to dispose of her body. But night would come and there’d be plenty of time for that.

Maybe he’d even keep her alive for a while as a sex slave.

He had the credit card and cash he’d taken from Bubba’s pockets. Surprisingly, the cash amounted to more than he’d expected Bubba to have—he must’ve just cashed his welfare check. If he wanted, he could rent a cabin in the Tennessee mountains online, using Bubba’s credit card, then bind and gag Madeline and take her there. He’d strip her down and tie her to the bedposts, where she’d be ready for him at al times.

The thril of arousal rushed through him as he imagined slipping the garrote around Madeline’s neck. He’d have to act quickly to subdue her before she could scream. But then her cel phone rang, and she opened it before he could stop her.

“Hel o?…Hunter! Where’ve you been?…Ray Harper’s…

Oh, they’re coming to repair the window this afternoon.

Have you heard about Bubba?”

Ray clenched his hands at his sides. He should’ve sprung the trap early. Now that she’d mentioned his name, there was nothing he could do.

Catching her arm, he stopped her just before she could turn the corner and see everything. What shitty luck. He’d been so…damn…close.

She looked at him expectantly.

“Let me clean up the room a bit,” he whispered, acting slightly embarrassed as he edged past her.

She remained where she was, and he listened to her tel her P.I. about Bubba while he shut down the computer and shoved the dildo, the lotion, the Chinese herbs, the garrote and the bikini underwear he sometimes wore under the bed. The place smel ed strongly of sex and sweat, so he sprayed some of the cheap cologne he kept on the dresser.

“Ray?”

He froze. She’d hung up already. “Yes?”

“Are you ready for me?”

He was more than ready. Thanks to the Viagra, he’d had an erection for nearly three hours and felt like he could perform for another three. His revenge on her and her father would be delayed—but it would come.

He took a last sweeping glance around, satisfied that he hadn’t left out anything that could give him away. Maybe he’d make Madeline service him for months, years. Until he tired of her. Wouldn’t
that
make Barker rol over in his grave?

“It’s not exactly clean,” he said with enough uncertainty to sound sincere. “But…come in.”

She stepped over the threshold. For a few seconds, her beauty held him spel bound. He couldn’t wait to touch her.

That it wouldn’t be today made his whole body throb and ache in disappointment.

“What is it?” she asked, her eyes circling the room.

“This.” He retrieved a picture from the dresser and brought it over to her. It was a photograph of Rose Lee standing next to Barker, wearing her Sunday best.

“How nice,” she said, her expression pained as though she missed him terribly.

Ray smiled. She had no idea that Barker had his hand up the back of Rose’s dress even as he smiled so benignly for the camera.

“Your father sure loved her,” he said as if they were sharing a deep, touching moment. But what he real y meant was that her father loved his own power more than anything else.

Even Madeline.

20

M
adeline caled Hunter back as soon as she left Ray’s trailer. She’d told him about Bubba, but she’d felt awkward standing in Ray’s hal , waiting for some mysterious surprise, and had wanted to get out of there. Ray didn’t seem himself. He watched her a little too closely. Or maybe he’d just had a bad night. She’d never seen anyone with eyes as bloodshot as his.

“I’m in the car, so I can talk now,” she said.

“How are you?” he asked.

She could tel by his tone that it was more than the typical formality. He real y wanted to know. “Shaken,” she told him. So much had happened; so much had been lost.

First Rachel Simmons. Then learning that evil had touched Grace when she was little more than a child. Al of that was heartbreaking enough. Add Mike’s return, the crude message on her answering machine, the break-in last night, Bubba’s death—and she was overwhelmed. Even Kirk’s leaving town upset her. It wasn’t that she wanted them to be together romantical y. She just wanted everything to be okay.

And yet, suddenly, even the things that used to be okay weren’t.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” he said.

She swal owed around the tears that rose in her throat, the tears she’d been fighting al morning. “Please don’t show me any sympathy right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’l make me cry.”

“Poor Maddy,” he murmured. “What can I do to make it better?”

She tried not to think of what they’d done behind the tree. But nothing had made her feel better than those few minutes—not in a long, long time. “Tel me something good.”

“It wasn’t Clay who broke in last night.”

“How do you know?” she asked, sitting up straighter.

“I cal ed Pontiff. He said there were no cuts anywhere on Clay’s upper body.”

“I
knew
it wasn’t him, but—” she smiled tearily, feeling vindicated “—I’m glad Pontiff and Radcliffe know, too.”

“Problem is…”

She automatical y tensed. “What?”

“It wasn’t Mike Metzger, either, Maddy.”

Slowing for a stop sign, she sat there without giving the car any gas. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

She rubbed her tired eyes. Who else could it be? And why would someone else want her father’s books and sermons and cuff links?

There were always more questions than answers.

“What’s it like in California this time of year?” she asked simply because it had nothing to do with what she was experiencing, and because she needed to remind herself that Hunter belonged in a place that was miles away.

“Nice.”

“How nice?”

“Meet me at Two Sisters, and I’l tel you. Have you had any lunch?”

It was almost three o’clock, but she hadn’t even had breakfast. “No. My day got crazy.” She thought of the close confines of Bubba’s trailer, the terrible smel . “But an empty stomach turned out to be a good thing today.”

“I can imagine. I’l see you there, okay?”

“Actual y, I have to meet the window company first. Do you have something you can do for an hour?”

“I’d like to swing by the bar, ask if anyone came in acting unusual last night. I’ve cal ed two area hospitals, but I’d like to try a few more to see if anyone showed up at the emergency room with a deep cut on his hands or arm.”

“Sounds good.” Until she saw him again, she needed something to hang on to, a positive image. “Meanwhile, what’s the best thing you can think of?” she asked.

His voice grew deeper, rougher, sexier. “Are you sure you want me to answer that question?”

“What do you mean?”

“The best thing I can think of is you.”

Lunch didn’t turn out to be as relaxing as Madeline had hoped. Hunter seemed rather pensive, even guarded, and he didn’t flirt with her like he had on the phone. He sat on the opposite side of the booth and didn’t even touch her hand when he set their menus on the edge of the table so the waitress would know they were ready to order.

“Are you going to tel me where you’ve been al day?”

she asked after the waitress had gone.

“Out and about, doing interviews, checking details.”

She considered his answer. “Are you being purposely vague?”

He wiped the condensation from his glass. “Maybe.

How’d it go with the glass company?”

“Fine. It’s repaired.”

“Good.”

“So, where were you when I got up this morning?”

“We were going to talk about California, remember?” he said.

Folding her arms, she sat back. “But you’ve barely said a word since we arrived—about the case
or
California.”

“Somehow my home doesn’t seem like a much better subject,” he muttered.

“Because…”

“Because that’s real life, Maddy,” he said intently.

“And this is…what, Hunter? Make-believe?”

“Maybe. In any event, it’s a…short detour.”

“Right.”

“I’m just here to do my job,” he reiterated.

“What do you want me to say?” she asked in a quiet voice. “That yesterday meant nothing to me? That I would’ve done the same with any other man?”

His forehead rumpled in consternation. “No, I don’t want to hear that, even if it’s true.”

“It’s not true.”

“What happened was probably just the result of al the upset and stress and—”

“No. It wasn’t that, either.”

His eyes fil ed with some unnamed emotion, and she lowered her voice. “Maybe it was the stress that caused me to act on what I felt. But I wanted
you,
okay? I think I wanted you from the first moment I saw you.”

“Maddy, stop. You know what that does to me?”

“I do. It makes you want to run.”

“No. It makes me want to drag you home and up to your bedroom. You don’t understand what you’re asking for by getting involved with me. You don’t need any more complications in your life. And neither do I.”

She didn’t speak for several long seconds. “Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“I get it.”

“Then explain it to me!”

“You prefer not to form any emotional attachments to me or this place or anything else.”

“Yes.” He seemed relieved. “I can’t, okay? I have to go home. I’m here for a reason, and I need to stay focused on it.”

“Fine. You’ve put me on notice. What happened yesterday won’t happen again. Satisfied?”

She could tel that he wasn’t, but she went on anyway.

Because she knew he was right. What did they have in common? What did they expect would happen if they continued to act on the desire they felt?

“So,
Mr. Solozano,
give me an update. Where have you been al day?”

“Out and about,” he said.

“You mentioned that already.”

“Just trust me.”

“Trust would violate our no-emotion rule. Give me the hard facts.”

His scowl darkened. “Maddy, stop. You’re…”

“What?”

“You’re driving me crazy.”

She refused to soften that easily. “If I hired someone else, I’d get a report.”

“You’ve been through enough for one day. You don’t need to hear what I have to say. Not right now.”

“Someone else wouldn’t care what I’ve been through, so neither should you.”

“But I do care, damn it!” The people in the next booth turned to stare, and he lowered his voice. “And I don’t have any proof.”

Visions of yesterday flew through her head. His eagerness to touch her. His lips on her neck. His arms bearing her weight.

Shutting her eyes, she struggled to forget. “Tel me what it is.”

The ice in his glass clinked as he took a sip of water.

Madeline had the impression that he was stal ing, so she cleared her throat. “I’m waiting.”

“I don’t think it was Clay who kil ed your father.”

She didn’t respond immediately. She was so distracted by desire and by fear, it took her a moment to absorb those words—and to realize that this was actual y good news.

Maybe.

“Why?” she asked tentatively. “Because he was so young?”

“No. He was and stil is the most physical y capable—the biggest, the strongest, the oldest,” he said gruffly, giving it to her straight and hard now as she’d demanded. “And statistical y most murders are committed by men.”

“I thought this was where you told me why Clay
didn’t
do it,” she said.

“It is.”

“So why do you think it wasn’t him?”

His gaze fel to her lips, and she could tel he was feeling the same awareness that was humming through her. It was there, just beneath the surface, every time they were together. Their encounter yesterday only made it more intense.