Still Waters (45 page)

Below her, the gathering of Hauer kin was breaking up. They turned away from the grave site and trudged up the hill in their somber clothes and sober faces, the women carefully holding out the skirts of their long dresses as the high grass snatched at them like long, thin fingers. Only one man remained behind to shovel dirt into the hole Aaron's body had been committed to for eternity.

“Maybe he'll find some peace now.”

Elizabeth swung around to find Dane standing not ten feet away. The wind teased the ends of his hair, and his expression was inscrutable, his eyes hidden by mirrored sunglasses. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his faded jeans, the sleeves of his khaki uniform shirt rolled neatly to the elbow. Two pristine white bandages on his right arm and the orthopedic brace on his left knee served as the only signs of his own brush with the great beyond.

“I'd like to think so,” Elizabeth said, scolding herself for drinking in the sight of him. Didn't she have any pride at all? She tucked her fingers in the pockets of her snug, faded jeans and turned back toward the funeral procession. “He did some terrible things, but he wasn't a terrible man. Just heartsick and lonely.”

She hated to think that loneliness could drive a person to the lengths Aaron had gone to, but that was what had been at the root of his illness—loneliness and grief, bitterness and hate that had steeped and fermented into madness.

“Is that what you'll put in the paper? That he was heartsick and lonely?”

“There won't be a paper this week,” she said, watching as the one remaining Amishman took up his shovel and began to fill the grave. “By next week this won't be news.”

She thought of Aaron's Amish paper,
The Budget
, and wondered if his death would be included among the crop reports and the scandalous news that someone from the Old Order had gone modern and bought himself a tractor.

“Will there be a paper next week?” Dane asked. He wouldn't blame her if she wanted to leave. Nothing that had happened here could have made her want to stay. As much as he loved this place with its quiet, gentle beauty and honest, hardworking people, Elizabeth had been given a very different, very unattractive view.

She looked at him over her shoulder. “I'm not going anywhere. I'm all done moving on, looking for my life around the next corner. This is home, for better or worse. I'm hoping I'll grow on people eventually. Get 'em so they don't want to kill me or throw bricks through my windows, and then work my way up from there.”

“Rich is the one who vandalized the
Clarion
office,” Dane said. “He was the one in your garage too. I took his statement yesterday at St. Mary's. He was looking for the book and trying to scare you off at the same time.”

“I heard he came to. Pity.” She smiled at Dane's arched brow. “Women are vengeful creatures as a rule, sugar.”

“I'll bear that in mind,” he said sardonically. “Will I be taking my life into my hands if I ask you to take a walk with me?”

“I'm unarmed at the moment. Should you be walking on that?” she asked, nodding at the brace on his knee.

“Doesn't matter. I've got a date with an arthroscope next week.”

“Well, you've got my social calendar beat all to hell.”

Dane reserved comment and started down the hill toward the creek. What he wanted to say could do without the accompaniment of pneumatic power tools or the gloom of a cemetery plot.

“What did Fox have on Rich if not the book?” Elizabeth asked, falling into step beside him, feeling a need to put off whatever was to come. The famous final scene, she supposed. Like Bogey and Ingrid Bergman on the tarmac in
Casablanca
. Only she didn't have Paul Henried waiting in the wings for her.

“Rich came across Jarrold when he was already dead. Instead of calling the cops, he started looking for the book, knowing if we found it first he'd be dead politically and up to his ass in indictments.”

He stopped at the water's edge and stared across the creek where a mother wood duck was teaching half a dozen of her fuzzy offspring to swim in the muddy shallows along the far bank. “Fox saw him at the scene. I imagine Carney figured Rich had done the deed, but it didn't really matter one way or the other. Just being able to put him at the scene sealed Carney's fate.”

He shook his head at the idea of Rich Cannon killing anyone. He'd known Rich forever, and it turned out that he didn't really know him at all. It was an unsettling thought.

“He didn't say anything about calling you,” Dane said, turning his attention back to Elizabeth.

“No,” she said. “My money's on Helen for that one, but I don't guess we'll ever know for sure.” Somehow, now, in the light of day and in view of everything else that had happened, it didn't seem important.

“What happens next?” she asked, needing to think ahead instead of back.

“Now the wheels of justice turn. The state attorney general is digging into the corruption business. There'll be some empty seats in the legislature before too long, you can bank on that. And there'll be a commendation for the
Clarion
.”

Elizabeth smiled at the irony of that. The state attorney general commending a paper the town fathers had wanted shut down. Charlie Wilder was liable to have a stroke. “It's Jolynn they should honor,” she said, plucking up a long, tough shoot of grass to occupy her hands. “She's the one found the book. She damn near lost her life for it. I'd say she deserves the credit.”

“Yeager says she's doing okay.”

“Oh, yeah.” She smiled gamely. Jolynn was doing swell. She was getting her life together for the first time in a long, long time, and Elizabeth was genuinely happy for her. And jealous of her. And sorry for herself. Two more rotten habits to add to her list of thousands. She wondered if, once she got rid of all her rotten habits, there'd be anything left.

Dane studied her as she methodically split the blade of grass she held. She looked a little pale, a little thin. He wanted to take off her sunglasses so he could see those eyes that mirrored everything she was feeling, but he held himself back, the old wariness too ingrained to just let go. “And how are you doing?”

“Me? Hey, I'm a trooper.” She cursed the extra hoarseness that roughened her voice. She should have been tougher than that.

“No. No!” she said. Anger boiled up inside her as she wheeled on him, and she let it have free rein because it was a damn sight better than hurting. “I'm not fine. I killed a man two days ago. There isn't enough bleach in the state of Minnesota to get the bloodstains out of the floor. I can't sleep in my bed because I can still see him laying there. And I couldn't sleep there anyway because all I can think about is you!”

Her hands curled into fists and adrenaline pumped through her. “You made me fall in love, you son of a bitch! And if that wasn't the meanest, dirtiest trick. All I wanted was peace and quiet. I wanted to live like a normal person. And along you come—”

Dane grabbed her arms and hauled her up against him. She squirmed and twisted against his hold, swearing a streak that would have turned a sailor's ears blue.

“Quit!” he ordered her, the weight of the command diluted by his laughter.

Elizabeth's temper spiked upward, and she struggled all the harder. “I will not quit! And don't you dare laugh at me! I don't want you. I never wanted you!”

She kicked him hard in the shin. Dane grunted and wrestled her to the ground, pinning her body beneath his, pinning her arms to the ground above her head. They lay belly to belly, chest to chest, his legs sprawled on either side of hers.

He raised himself up enough to look down at her. Her sunglasses had come off in the fray and she glared up at him with eyes that were bloodshot from lack of sleep and red-rimmed from crying. She tried to be so tough and she was so vulnerable. The combination hit his heart with a one-two punch he couldn't begin to block. She stared up at him, mad as a wet cat.

“It's like the Rolling Stones say, sweetheart,” he said, fighting for breath. “You can't always get what you want.”

“I hate the Rolling Stones,” she snarled between her teeth. “And I hate you. You're mean as cat meat and—”

“I love you.”

“—twice as—” She broke off in confusion. “What?” she mumbled. “You what?”

“I love you.”

She stared up at him for a long moment. Then she worked her right hand free of his hold, reached up slowly and pulled off his sunglasses, tossing them aside.

“Say it again,” she whispered, needing to hear the words, needing to see them in the blue of his eyes.

“I love you,” he murmured. “If it's any consolation, I didn't want to either.”

“You sure know how to make a girl feel special,” Elizabeth said. “Maybe you should just shut up and kiss me.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

He lowered himself over her and settled his mouth against hers softly, tenderly, with a poignancy that came from his heart and a heat that seared her clear to her soul. Their lips clung, tasting, savoring, relearning, remembering. Elizabeth let herself luxuriate, steeped herself in the sweetness of the moment. As moments went, this one was perfect. She would remember every single thing about it as long as she lived.

Dane shifted his weight off her as he ended the kiss.

He traced his fingertips along the elegant line of her cheek and touched the little scar that hooked down from the corner of her mouth.

“I loved Amy's mother, but she wanted . . . things, so many things I couldn't give her, everything money could buy. I can't offer you that, Elizabeth. I'm just a cop, a beat-up old football player turned cop.”

Elizabeth could see it all in his face, the pain, the wariness, the need that reached out to her own. “Oh, Dane,” she whispered. “I don't want things. I just want you . . . to love me.”

“Well,” he said, his lips curving in a gentle smile, “maybe we can get what we want after all.”

He lowered his head and kissed her again. “I'd ask you to marry me,” he said, grinning like a champion, “but I hear you've sworn off men.”

Elizabeth smiled up at him. “Now, sugar,” she drawled, batting her lashes as she pulled him back down, “where'd you ever get a crazy idea like that?”

BANTAM BOOKS BY TAMI HOAG

DARK HORSE

DUST TO DUST

ASHES TO ASHES

A THIN DARK LINE

GUILTY AS SIN

NIGHT SINS

DARK PARADISE

CRY WOLF

STILL WATERS

LUCKY
'
S LADY

SARAH
'
S SIN

MAGIC

And coming soon in hardcover

KILL THE MESSENGER

Praise for the bestsellers of

TAMI HOAG

DARK HORSE

“A thriller as tightly wound as its heroine . . . Hoag has created a winning central figure
in Elena . . . Bottom Line: Great Ride.” —
People

“This is her best to date . . . [a] tautly told thriller.”
—
Minneapolis Star-Tribune

“Hoag proves once again why she is considered
a queen of the crime thriller.”
—
Charleston Post & Courier

“A tangled web of deceit and double-dealing makes
for a fascinating look into the wealthy world of horses
juxtaposed with the realistic introspection of one very troubled ex-cop. A definite winner.” —
Booklist

“Anyone who reads suspense novels regularly is
acquainted with Hoag's work—or certainly should be. She's one of the most consistently superior suspense and romantic suspense writers on today's bestseller lists. A word of warning to readers: don't think you know whodunit 'til the very end.” —
The Facts
(Clute, TX)

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conclusion—this novel has all the pulse-racing touches that put Tami Hoag books on bestseller lists and
crime fans' reading lists.”
—
The Advocate Magazine
(Baton Rouge, LA)

“Full of intrigue, glitter, and skullduggery . . . [Hoag]
is a master of suspense.” —
Publishers Weekly

“Her best to date, an enjoyable read, and a portent of even better things to come.” —
The Grand Rapids Press

“A complex cerebral puzzle that will keep readers
on the edge until all the answers are revealed.”
—
The Midwest Book Review

“To say that Tami Hoag is the absolute best at what
she does is a bit easy since she is really the only person who does what she does. . . . It is testament to Hoag's
skill that she is able to go beyond being skillful and find the battered hearts in her characters, and capture their beating on the page. . . . A superb read.”
—
Detroit News & Free Press

DUST TO DUST

“Compelling and expertly told. Plot lines smolder
and ignite as the suspense builds. The result leaves . . .
the reader scorched.” —
USA Today

“[This] wintry tale of crime and punishment
packs a powerful thrill. Bottom line: Good cops +
bad cops = killer suspense.”
—
People
(Page-turner of the week, starred review)

“
Dust to Dust
breathes new life into the old good cop vs. bad cop genre. . . . A roller-coaster ride of a thriller that will leave fans awaiting the next installment.”
—
New York Post

“Sharp dialogue and an unusual plot make this a highly engaging outing for Hoag.” —
Chicago Tribune

“Practice must make perfect after all because
Tami Hoag . . . just keeps getting better. . . . Hoag not
only develops her characters, she also thickens the
plot with every chapter, until there is no alternative
but to keep turning those pages.”
—
The Orlando Sentinel

“As a master of complex plots, Hoag is adept
at faking readers into thinking they've figured out
what's happened, only to shatter their theories.
Dust to Dust
continues the tradition.”
—
Fort Worth Star-Telegram

“In this well-crafted thriller, Hoag sets a complex plot in motion and gives it a powerful, emotional center.”
—
Minneapolis Star Tribune

ASHES TO ASHES

“Hoag has more or less taken over the serial killer
genre all by herself.” —
Chicago Tribune

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reading. . . . Hoag does her homework and gets the
details right in this creepy story. . . . Powerful.”
—
Minneapolis Star Tribune

“An up-all-night read.”
—
The Detroit News

“[A] detail-packed thriller . . .
The Silence of the
Lambs
comes to mind more than once.”
—
Entertainment Weekly

“[A] compelling . . . startling story.”
—
Chicago Sun-Times

“Hoag has a way of sneaking up on the reader in superior thriller tradition. . . . She neatly side-steps the graphic crudeness of some of her competitors, while still providing enough surprise twists and stomach-turning carnage to satisfy any heebie-jeebie enthusiast.”
—
Publishers Weekly
(starred review)

“Absorbing . . . always interesting . . . Once again,
Hoag doesn't disappoint.”
—
New York Post

“Promises to keep readers up reading into the night. . . .
A lot of bang for the buck.”
—
Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine

“Chilling . . . Patricia Cornwell wrote thrillers that
had readers turning the pages until 3 a.m. Now Hoag
is keeping readers up all hours.”
—
Sun-Sentinel
(Fort Lauderdale, FL)

“If ‘page turner' is a term too easily used, Ms. Hoag
has restored its legitimacy. Her stories shock us, shake us, take us to the darkest edges of criminal conduct.”
—
The Cincinnati Enquirer

“We who know a little about Tami Hoag's
novels lock the doors, grab a bowl of popcorn, and
settle down for an often unsettling read. With Ashes,
we need to look over our shoulders every chapter
or so because the evil therein gathers momentum
with every move a serial killer makes.”
—
The Detroit News

“This is a winning psychological thriller that
will attract fans of Thomas Harris.”
—
Booklist

A THIN DARK LINE

“
A Thin Dark Line
is chilling, it's atmospheric,
it's even romantic; but the novel's best achievement
is its making readers constantly interrogate their
ideas about justice and revenge, their own
presumptions of guilt and innocence.”
—
US magazine

“This mystery defies you to put it down,
and when you're done you're damn glad you didn't.”
—
Detroit News & Free Press

“Hoag deftly demonstrates that the search for
truth is rarely straightforward. Important clues are
cunningly buried, and the book's tension is as
sustained as it is palpable.”
—
Chicago Tribune

“With a flair for dialect and regional atmosphere,
Hoag captures the essence of the Cajun family
and working relationships while injecting suspense
and heart-pounding terror into a violent tangle
of justice, innocence, treachery, and public opinion.
A thoroughly engrossing read.”
—
Booklist

“Hoag has evolved into a fine thriller writer.
[She] displays a firm grasp on locale [and] there's
plenty of suspense in waiting to see how it will all resolve. Psychopathic villains are common enough,
but Hoag has managed to endow hers with a
scarred entourage that provides a tragic note.”
—
Publishers Weekly

“Hoag is always a good gritty read
—
Kirkus Reviews

“Hoag writes big, full stories
with complex characters and situations.
She doesn't shrink from the raw side of crime
and the dark side of human nature.”
—
The Cincinnati Post