then headed down the hall toward the elevators.
“The guy’s got the hots for you,” Judd said. “Who is he, a new Powell agent?”
Before Lindsay could reply, Griff responded. “He’s Special Agent Friedman. He joined Curtis Jackson’s investigative team on the last Beauty Queen Killer case. You remember Carrie Warren, don’t you, Judd?”
Judd narrowed his gaze, glowering at Griff.
“You don’t remember her name, do you?” Griff snorted. “Oh, that’s right, you spent most of November and December drunk. How could you possibly remember anything about the last case.”
“There’s only one name that matters to me,” Judd said. “Jennifer Walker.”
Griff clenched his jaw.
Wanting to ease the growing tension between Judd and Griff, Lindsay asked, “How is Gale Ann Cain?” Dear God, please let her be alive.
Judd chuckled, the sound as cold as the February night.
Griff looked right at Lindsay. “She died about thirty minutes ago.”
“Without identifying her killer, no doubt,” Judd said.
Griff directed his gaze to Judd’s bearded face. “You’re right, she didn’t ID him. But she did give us some information we can use, something we didn’t know about him before now.”
“You’ve got notebooks filled with info.” Grinning mockingly, Judd shook his head. “What good does new info do? What good is the profile you have of him? What good—?”
“You want me to drop this case?” Griff asked. “Just say the word and—”
“Don’t feed me that line of bullshit,” Judd said. “You forget, we go back a long way. I know you. You wouldn’t quit this case if your life depended on it.” He sneered at Lindsay. “And neither would you.”
Griff glanced at Lindsay. “I’ve got things to do.” He inclined his head toward Judd. “You keep Happy Jack here on a leash.” He glowered at Judd. “If you give Lindsay any trouble, I’ll—”
“He won’t,” Lindsay said.
Griff sighed heavily. “Gale Ann’s sister found her minutes after the attack.”
“Then I want to talk to the sister,” Judd said.
“Not tonight,” Griff told him.
“Why not tonight?”
“Damn, Judd, the woman just lost her sister.”
“Yeah, and that makes her victim number what? Twenty-nine? Thirty? If I’d found Jenny only minutes after the attack, I …” Judd’s voice trailed off. He clenched his teeth tightly and squinted his eyes as he looked at Griff. “Can she ID the guy?”
Griff clasped Judd’s shoulder. “Here’s the deal. I want you to leave the hospital. Lindsay will book you a local motel room for the night, or I can get Carson to drive you straight back to Tennessee right now. Or if you can behave yourself, you can come to Griffin’s Rest tomorrow and meet Gale Ann’s sister Barbara Jean.”
Two thoughts instantly flashed through Lindsay’s mind: One, she hadn’t known that Griff had brought Powell agent Rick Carson to Kentucky; two, why had Barbara Jean Hughes agreed to spend a few days at Griff’s home?
“Ms. Cain’s sister is going to be staying with us?” Lindsay asked. How on earth had Griff managed that? By using his charm, she told herself. That’s how. Griffin Powell most certainly had a way with the ladies.
“I’ll bet Nic Baxter is hopping mad that you’ve whisked her eyewitness right out from under her nose,” Judd said. “I’m sure she demanded that you back off and leave protecting a witness to the FBI.”
The corners of Griff’s lips twitched, a hint of amusement in the expression. “Special Agent Baxter explained to Ms. Hughes the benefits of allowing the FBI to safeguard her. But when I offered her not only the security of my home and my protection, but a job, too, Barbara Jean agreed that my offer was more acceptable to her.”
Lindsay wondered just what sort of job Griff had offered the woman. Apparently, providing her a position with the Powell Agency had tipped the scales in his favor. Knowing Griff as she did, she had no doubt that he would create a position for Ms. Hughes if that’s what it took to secure her safety within the Powell compound. And an added bonus would be one-upping Special Agent Baxter. Even though Curtis Jackson hadn’t been happy to encounter Griff and his agents at every turn during the past three years, he and Griff had managed to remain cordial to each other. But with Nic Baxter and Griff, cordiality didn’t come into play. Lindsay wondered how Griff would react if she suggested he allow her to deal with Nic during this case and for him to steer clear of the lady.
“Just answer one question for me—did the sister see the killer?” Judd asked.
Griff grimaced. “She’s not sure.”
“What do you mean she’s not sure?”
“Look, this is not the time or the place to have this discussion.” Judd shrugged off Griff’s grasp. The two men stood almost eye to eye. Judd did have to glance up a bit to make direct eye contact since Griff was a couple of inches taller.
“If you didn’t want me here, why send your Girl Friday to fetch me?” Judd’s upper lip curled in a snarl.
“Damn it!” Griff cursed under his breath. “If you want to take an active part in this investigation, then shape up, stay sober, and treat the people who are trying to help you as if they have feelings.”
Lindsay’s cheeks warmed. Griff was talking about her and they all knew it.
“And if I really just don’t give a damn anymore?” Judd’s tense stance eased slightly.
“You give a damn,” Griff told him. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here. So listen up—stop wallowing in self-pity and start acting like a civilized human being.”
Judd bristled. Lindsay could all but hear the thundering roar of anger rushing through his body. She braced herself for the worst.
Without warning, the sound of soft weeping caught their attention, and for a split second Lindsay was grateful that something—anything—had diffused the mounting tension between the two men. The last thing she wanted was to have to put herself between Griff and Judd.
Nic Baxter escorted an auburn-haired, wheelchair-bound woman out of the ICU waiting room. Barbara Jean Hughes held her head high as she patted her damp cheeks with a handkerchief that Lindsay instantly recognized as one of Griffin Powell’s. The large embroidered black “P” on the edge of the expensive linen was a dead giveaway.
As the FBI agent and the victim’s sister approached, Lindsay studied Barbara Jean. Attractive, but not classically pretty. Neat. Slender. Delicate. Probably in her early forties.
In contrast, Nic was tall—very tall—with an Amazonian, hourglass-shaped body, and was a decade younger than the other woman.
