Truth and Consequences (3 page)

The décor of Tick Calvert’s office at the Chandler County Sheriff’s Department consisted of a rusty metal desk and a stack of storage boxes. A stuffed bass already graced the wall and his FBI award leaned on a wooden bookshelf next to a photo of another prize-winning catch. Although it was after six and his shift had ended at three with rotation of duty, Kathleen wasn’t surprised to find him working. The man had two obsessions—fishing and work.

He waved Kathleen and Altee to two mismatched chairs in front of his desk. “Y’all have to excuse the mess. Stanton and I are still getting our stuff moved down from the FBI offices in Albany.”

Kathleen eyed the bruising around his left eye. He’d be lucky if it wasn’t swollen shut tomorrow. “So how does Stanton like being sheriff?”

Grinning, Tick dropped into his ancient desk chair. “I don’t think the reality has sunk in yet. The jail is outdated, the records are in a mess, and since he released the entire staff when he was appointed, he’s been trying to fill positions. Today was the first day off he’s had since he’s been in office—he went to Tallahassee to see his kids.”

Altee smiled, a teasing expression. “And as soon as his back is turned, you boys get into a high-speed chase.”

Tick chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “Pretty much.”

Hands folded in her lap, Kathleen crossed her legs. “We’ve got a couple more questions about what happened today.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you know Deputy Harding from Haynes County?”

Tick’s jaw tensed. “I know who he is, but I don’t
know
him. There’s not a lot of love lost between us and them.”

“He says he arrived on scene the same time you did. Did he?”

“I don’t know.” Tick shrugged. “He was there. I wasn’t paying attention to when he actually arrived. To be honest, I was too busy chewing Troy Lee out for blowing the engine in his squad car.”

Kathleen narrowed her eyes at him. Super-observant Tick Calvert not paying attention to what went on at a crime scene? Sure. And her daddy wasn’t the best fundraiser in his political circle. “So he could have been there before you arrived?”

Another negligent shrug. “He could have been, I guess, but I can’t say for sure whether he was or wasn’t.”

“I understand.” Kathleen glanced at her partner. Altee stared at Calvert as if he’d sprouted a pair of green antennae. She turned her head and looked at Kathleen, unspoken communication passing between them:
Do you believe this crock of bull?
“I appreciate your seeing us on such short notice.”

“No problem. Anytime.” He rose and lifted a stack of file folders from the desk. “Anything else? I hate to rush you, but I’ve got to get over to the women’s center to teach that new self-defense class they’re offering.”

“If we need anything else, we’ll call.” Kathleen waited half a beat, knowing Altee would pick up her cue.

Altee jingled the keys. “I’ll pull the car around.”

“How’s your mama?” Kathleen asked, accompanying Tick down the hall.

He grinned. “Good. Crocheting a blanket for that new grandbaby.”

She stopped at the door. “You know there’s more to this than Jim Ed said, right?”

Blowing out a rough sigh, he shifted the folders from one hand to the other. “Look, Kath, I want Thatcher and his boys out of power as much as you do. Hell, more. But sometimes we go looking for stuff that’s not there. Maybe all there is here is just what Jim Ed said.”

She stared. “I don’t believe what I’m hearing. What have you done with the real Lamar Eugene Calvert, Jr.?”

“Come on, just listen. Reese is dangerous. You can’t go making accusations without anything to back them up. Hell, Kathleen, I’d hate to see something bad happen to you. Just stay away from Harding and Reese. See what the forensics turns up, but don’t be surprised if it’s nothing. I’ve never seen people cover their tracks the way these sons of bitches do.”

“Weren’t you the one accusing Jim Ed of shooting those boys?”

He tugged his free hand through his hair, the dark strands falling forward onto his forehead. “Damn it, I was pissed off.”

“If you know something, even if it seems inconsequential, like Harding already being on scene when you got there, I need to know.” Irritation with his obstinate nature stirred in her. Good Lord, he
was
as stubborn as a tick on a hound dog. His daddy had known what he was doing when he’d bestowed that particular nickname.

The Crown Victoria cruised to a stop in front of the steps and the horn beeped twice. Kathleen straightened her shirt. “Thanks anyway, Tick. Tell your mama I said hey.”

He shoved the door open for her. “Yeah. Take care.”

Sliding into the passenger seat, Kathleen turned the vents to let the chilly breeze of the air conditioner cool her flushed cheeks. In the mirror, she watched Tick saunter to his truck.

Altee shifted into drive. “Did he say anything else?”

“Yeah. He warned me off Reese and Harding.”

“Deputy Goodbody?” A grin quirking at her lips, Altee merged into the sparse traffic. The early evening sun glinted off the spire of the First Baptist Church. A pair of women speedwalked along the sidewalk. “He thought you were some kind of fine.”

Annoyance crawled over Kathleen’s nerves. Altee was too good at reading the opposite sex, but Kathleen only wanted to think of Jason Harding in a professional sense. She didn’t want to think about how he looked at her. The desire to ask Altee exactly how he’d looked at her made her feel like a high school girl with a crush and that bothered her even more.

She pushed the aggravation into her voice. “What are you talking about?”

“Couldn’t keep his eyes off you. Hands, either, obviously.” With one finger, Altee smoothed her precise, sideswept bangs, not a hair out of place on her sleek bob.

“Altee. He’s a Haynes County deputy. Why would I want anything of his on me?” His hands had been strong, warm even through her clothes. A shiver trickled down her body. With his arm around her waist and her back pressed to his chest, she’d experienced his strength. She refused to acknowledge that for a second she’d felt sheltered and intensely feminine.

“I’m just saying…he was hot for you.” At a traffic light, Altee slowed to a stop behind a chicken truck. Fat birds sat in cages, oblivious to their destiny—a trip to the chicken plant and a transformation into chicken nuggets.

“Don’t say it. I don’t want to think about that.”

“Okay.” A knowing grin played about Altee’s rose-glossed lips.

“He’s just a possible witness. A possible suspect. If I have any dealings with him, it’s on a purely professional basis. That’s all.”

“Okay.” The grin widened. Anger pricked at Kathleen’s nerves.

“It would suit me just fine if I never had to see him again.”

“I hear you.” A full-fledged smile bloomed.

“Would you stop smiling like that?” Kathleen sighed. “You know he saw something.”

“Oh, yeah.” Altee remained silent for a long moment. “That means you’re going to have to see him again.”

“Me? I think you mean
we
.” Kathleen glared at the passing scenery. That was not a flare of anticipation in her stomach. She was
not
looking forward to seeing Jason Harding once more. And if she did have to see him, her interest would be merely that of an agent investigating a case.

Certainly not that of a woman.

“Hey, you coming to the house for supper?”

Surprised by Jim Ed’s voice, Jason jerked upright, his head colliding with the open truck hood. Pain shot through his skull and he cursed. Holding a hand to his scalp, he glared at his cousin. For a big guy, he sure moved quietly. “What?”

Chuckling, Jim Ed reached over and tightened the battery cable Jason had been fiddling with. “I asked if you planned to eat supper with us.”

“Sounds good. You don’t think Stacy will mind?” Jason’s fingers crept over the small lump growing under his hair. The old ghost of feeling like a charity case drifted through his mind, but he shrugged it off. Jim Ed hadn’t ever made an issue out of the meals Jason had taken at the Reese home or the hand-me-down clothes and toys he’d received. No, that had been Billy, taunting him about being poor.

And fatherless. Billy had always held that over his head, how his father had taken off, leaving him and his mother alone.

Jim Ed shrugged. “Why would she mind? She cooks a huge supper, and if you come, I won’t have to eat leftovers tomorrow. Is that pile of junk gonna start or do you need a ride?”

“It’ll start.” Jason slammed the hood and tried to view the old Chevy through his cousin’s eyes. Rust showed through the faded blue paint and a cracked spider web radiated out from a small hole in the windshield. The tires were as bald as Sheriff Thatcher’s head. Yeah, it needed to be put out of its misery and, if it was all he could afford, he was in pretty bad shape. Poor and desperate.

“Well, come on then. You look like you could use a good meal and we don’t want it to get cold.” Jim Ed clapped him on the shoulder, and Jason struggled to keep the anger and resentment from showing.

Following Jim Ed along the back roads, he let the mental guard down and allowed his thoughts to roam. He didn’t want to remember, but the image of Kathleen Palmer’s classic face, pinched with disdain, filled his mind. Full, pretty mouth, big brown eyes, straight nose, creamy skin—every cliché in the book. But a gorgeous cliché. He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. No wonder he’d found himself fixated on her from the second she appeared at that crime scene.

Back in high school, Billy, Jim Ed and the rest of his buddies had gone for the blonde babe cheerleaders. The ones most likely to put out. Not him. He’d watched Kathleen and seen purity, polish, perfection. And he’d ached to have that in his life.

Kathleen Palmer was his Holy Grail. Ultimately desired. Ultimately unattainable.

Unattainable because he sure as hell wasn’t Galahad, the perfect knight. More like Lancelot, who brought down the kingdom because he wanted what he shouldn’t have.

But a guy could dream. Could lose himself in the memory of the scent of Ivory soap lingering on pale skin. Get caught up in wondering if those spiky wisps of copper framing her face felt as soft as they looked. Imagine what it would be like to make her lose that awesome control. Heat flushed his body and settled in his groin.

The celibacy is catching up to you, Harding. Get a grip, would you? It’s a freaking fantasy. That’s all Kathleen Palmer will ever be to you. Something not real.

His truck bounced up Jim Ed’s long, rutted drive. Young pecan trees rose on either side, casting cool shade on the red clay. Atop the hill, cradled by tall pines, sat Jim Ed’s brick, two-story Tudor-style house. Killing the engine, Jason stared. Stacy had to have chosen the plans. Jim Ed’s pretensions ran to his toys—the flashy new 4x4 pickup he drove, the sleek bass boat parked under the shed, the extensive gun collection.

Jason climbed out of the truck, his feet sinking into new sod. A liver-spotted bird dog raced across the yard, yapping with wild affection. After a brisk rub behind the ears from Jim Ed, it collapsed on the grass in a contented heap.

Jim Ed passed a thumb over his split lip and winced. “Did I show you my new project?”

Jason shook his head. “Nope.”

A cross between a grin and a grimace twisted Jim Ed’s face. “C’mon. You’ll love it.”

As they walked toward the detached garage, the side door to the house slammed open and a pigtailed dynamo tumbled out. Jason grinned, watching his cousin’s youngest tear across the lawn, yelling, “Daddy! Daddy!”

“Hey, hot rod.” Jim Ed laughed and caught the little girl, swinging her up to settle on his hip. He rubbed his stubbled jaw against her cheek, and she erupted into wild giggles.

She patted his face. “You’ve got a booboo.”

Jim Ed’s expression hardened for a moment, then he smiled. A chill slid over Jason’s spine.

“Yeah, Daddy’s got a booboo. Give me a kiss and make it better.” She laid a smacking kiss on his cheek. Jim Ed laughed again and turned her in Jason’s direction. “Laurel, can you tell Uncle Jason hello?”

The little girl ducked her head against her father’s shoulder. “Hey, Uncle Jason.”

Uncle.

Family. A brief spurt of shame flared in his chest and he shoved his hands in his back pockets, forcing a smile for the four-year-old. “Hey, Laurel.”

An answering beam shaped Cupid’s-bow lips. “Daddy brought me a new kitty. His name’s Mims.”

Jim Ed let the little girl slide to the ground. He tugged the end of one pigtail. “Go tell Mama we’ll be right in.”

She flashed another smile in Jason’s direction, showing tiny, pearly teeth. “Okay.”

Jason watched her tear across the lawn toward the house. “She sure loves her daddy.”

Clapping him on the shoulder again, Jim Ed rumbled with laughter. “That she does. And I’m wrapped around that pretty little finger, too. Come on.”

The garage door lifted to reveal an immaculate floor and organized storage areas. Tools not only hung on pegboards, but red outlines showed where each should reside. A long table ran along the back wall, holding an array of woodworking tools. A half-finished dollhouse stood at one end.

“This is my baby.” Jim Ed reached for the canvas cover on the car parked in the third bay. He pulled it away to reveal a 1970 Chevelle SS. With the hood removed, the chromed engine glimmered in the dim light.

Jason whistled and ran his hand down the right front quarter panel, the metallic blue paint slick and cool. The mingled scents of grease and oil tickled his nostrils, bringing back memories of his youth, hours spent piecing together junk cars with his cousins and their father. Envy shimmered under his skin. “Bet she set you back a penny or two, didn’t she?”

Jim Ed patted a headlight. “She’s worth it, though. Here, fire her up.”

Anticipation licking at him, Jason caught the keys in midair and opened the driver’s door. New vinyl and air freshener enveloped him, and the roar of the engine rolled along his senses. Fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, he soaked in the sensation of pure power. The urge to go tearing around the back roads of Haynes County swamped him.

Through the windshield, he studied the massive brick home, the new truck, the professional landscaping. How did Jim Ed pay for it all?

The possibilities made him ill. Killing the engine, he swung out of the car and tossed the keys to his cousin. He forced a grin, everything he’d eaten that day sitting in a lump in his gut. “She’s great.”

“You hang with the department long enough and you’ll be able to afford one.”

“Yeah.” Bitterness rang in his short laugh. Jim Ed had no clue what was in his bank account, but the condescension stung. “Sure.”

“Bill Thatcher believes in rewarding loyalty.”

Jason glanced at the house. “You must be awful damn loyal.”

His cousin didn’t laugh. “Listen, Jason, I’m serious. This could be a good thing for you—”

“Jim Ed!” Stacy stood on the deck, hands on her hips, an exasperated look on her pretty face. “Are you coming in or not? Supper’s getting cold.”

“Wouldn’t want that to happen,” Jim Ed muttered and slapped Jason on the back. “Let’s go before she has a hissy fit.”

Jason helped him replace the car cover. As they left the garage, Jim Ed whistled sharply and the bird dog, tongue lolling, raced across the yard to them. With the canine dancing about his legs, Jim Ed fondled its ears once more and clucked his tongue.

At the sound, the dog shot toward a chainlink kennel behind the house. The gate stood open, moving slightly in the soft breeze.

“Come on.” Jim Ed ambled to the pen, where the dog waited inside, panting. Jason followed, eyeing the huge deck and professional landscaping behind the house. When Jim Ed reached the gate, he stopped. “Goddamn son of a bitch.”

His cousin’s low growl sent unease skittering up Jason’s spine. “What?”

“I told that boy to clean this pen.” Jim Ed stalked away, fists clenched.

Jason surveyed the kennel: neat dog house, white concrete floor, automatic watering system, stainless steel bowl full of kibble. Looked clean enough.

“Jamie.” Jim Ed bellowed into the house. “Get your ass out here.”

A skinny teenager ducked out the back door. “Yes, sir?”

Jim Ed wrapped a hand around the boy’s neck and shoved him in the direction of the kennel. “Look at my goddamn dog pen. I told you to clean it before I got home.”

“Daddy, I—”

“Don’t fucking argue with me, boy.” Jim Ed spoke from between obviously clenched teeth. Jason tensed, ready to step forward and get between his cousin and the kid. Hell if he wasn’t different with Jamie. The indulgent father Jason had seen with Laurel was nowhere in existence. “You know what I mean by clean and this ain’t it.”

Jamie ducked his head, shaggy sandy hair falling forward to hide his eyes. He didn’t speak but scuffed one tennis shoe on the grass.

Jim Ed dug his fingers into the boy’s thin shoulder and a grimace crossed Jamie’s face. “Do you hear me, boy?”

Clearing his throat, Jason shifted his stance. Everything in him wanted to shove his cousin away, make him leave the kid alone.

Everything except the voice telling him to do so would be a fatal mistake. Seeing this side of Jim Ed made him wonder just what had happened that afternoon before he’d arrived.

Had Jim Ed really pulled the trigger on those boys?

“Do you hear me?” Jim Ed’s voice deepened to a menacing rumble. His grip tightened until his knuckles glowed white against his tan, and Jamie winced.

“Yes, sir.” The words emerged as a whispery mumble.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Yes, sir.” Louder this time, but holding a trace of unshed tears.

Jim Ed released him and stepped into the pen. The dog wagged its tail but he didn’t spare it a glance. Instead, he picked up the dog bowl and flung it against the floor. Jamie and the dog flinched from the metallic clanging as kibble rained all over the concrete. Jim Ed didn’t look at his son as he strode by him. “Clean it up right this time. Don’t come in until it’s done.”

He slapped Jason on the back as he passed. “Come on. Let’s eat.”

The joviality had returned to his voice and Jason followed him with one last glance at the teenager kneeling in the kennel, gathering dog food piece by piece.

Jason shook his head. Maybe taking Jim Ed up on this job offer hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

What the hell had he gotten himself into?