over those sexual misconduct charges. How could the town accuse Ross of such a thing, especially in front of a divine man like his father? Ross was the preacher’s son, had been a good teacher, a soccer coach, a deacon himself until they’d ruined his reputation with their accusations.
Worse, his father had believed them….
And to think he’d always done everything to please the man.
Would he ever receive forgiveness?
Bible verses he’d been forced to learn as a child floated through his head, jumbled and distorted versions that made no sense. He’d hated the rigorous memorizing. The daily prayers. The sermons on hellfire and damnation.
His gaze flicked to the pictures again.
His hand slid down his waist, unfastened his belt buckle, pushed it aside. He slipped his fingers beneath the fabric. He was so hard, throbbing like an animal, aching for release, for the sweet fulfillment the young ones promised. He could have it, too. Pleasure lay at his fingertips. All he had to do was look at them, imagine stripping off their clothes and spreading them on the ground for his taking.
His fingers began to stroke his member, closing around the rigid length until it surged to life and droplets of erotic nectar spilled over.
Suddenly heavy footsteps clattered above. Click, clack. Click, clack.
Shit, the reverend.
“Ross!”
He jerked his hand away, grabbed a handkerchief and cleaned himself, frustration and embarrassment burning through him.
Now he would have to repent again, confess his sin to his father and kneel at the altar for hours on end. Damn the reverend for destroying his momentary pleasure.
He gathered his control and went to face the master. Tonight the reverend would be busy sucking up to the televangelist who was coming in to preach at the revival.
Ross would do whatever necessary the next few hours to please them both, but tomorrow night he’d do exactly as he wanted….
CHAPTER SEVEN
GRADY TRIED TO BANISH images of Violet Baker’s face from his mind as he and his deputy drove toward her dad’s house the next morning. But those startling blue eyes filled with anguish and vulnerability refused to leave him alone. He could still see her standing beside Darlene, looking up at his father with that hungry expression, as if she wanted to fit in, but knew she didn’t. That she wasn’t wanted.
Damn. Grady wanted a cigarette. But he couldn’t give in to the need. Just as he couldn’t give in to needs aroused by Violet.
He had never allowed a woman to distract him from his job before, and he certainly didn’t intend to do so this time. Not when he was so close to finally closing the chapter on this never-ending nightmare of his life.
He would search the Baker house with a fine-tooth comb and make sure that Baker’s confession stuck, so Grady could lay his sister’s murder case to rest once and for all.
And this time, with a warrant in his hand, Violet couldn’t stop him.
He checked the clock. It was early, but he’d planned it that way. He wanted to search the house before Violet had a chance to clean or move things around. Last night she’d thrown him off guard with her arrival. Today, he wanted the element of surprise on his side.
“I don’t know why you’re even checking this out,” Logan said in his typical dark tone. “Suicide seems cut-and-dried to me.”
Grady tried to read his partner’s expression, but Logan always wore those dark sunglasses, as if he was hiding behind them. “Yeah, well, I have to cover the bases just in case someone asks questions later. Some folks might not believe Baker is guilty or that he took his own life.”
“Hell, who would that be?”
“His daughter.” Grady shot Logan a warning look not to probe any further. Had Violet slept well in her childhood bed, knowing her father had killed her friend? Had she suffered any remorse for Darlene?
He scrubbed a hand over his face. He sure as hell hadn’t slept. Dammit, had Violet known about her father and kept silent?
Was that the real reason she hadn’t returned before now?
VIOLET STUMBLED FROM BED, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, and groped for the afghan, pulling it around her shoulders. She could have sworn she’d heard someone knocking on the door.
A quick glance at the clock made her grimace. Six-thirty. She hadn’t fallen asleep until five. Even then, that woman’s cries had reverberated inside her head, tormenting her.
The pounding grew louder. Who would come out here this early? Who even knew she was here? Grady…
“Violet, I know you’re in there.” His gruff voice resonated with impatience. “You might as well open up.”
“Just a minute.” Pushing her hair from her eyes, she rushed to the door and opened it. “What are you doing here so early?”
He dangled a piece of paper in front of her. “Search warrant.”
She frowned but reluctantly stepped aside. Grady strode in, his big presence filling the small den. Still half-asleep, she found her body tingling traitorously, imagining he’d come for another reason.
Another officer followed on his heels, his gaze skimming over Violet. His attitude said he’d seen the ugly side of life and survived it. Maybe even liked it.
“Deputy Logan.” The man tipped a headful of wavy brown hair in greeting, although his taut mouth was unsmiling. And she couldn’t see his eyes; they were hidden behind Ray-Bans. They were probably as black as his mood, she guessed, clutching the afghan tighter around her shoulders.
“Go get dressed,” Grady growled. “We’ll start in the den and kitchen.”
Violet simply stared at him. She didn’t take orders from anyone. “Excuse me?”
“I said put some clothes on.” His icy gaze locked with hers. Any trace of the compassionate boy she’d once known had disappeared.
Heat suddenly blazed her cheeks. Anger at the fact that he had come on a crusade against her father followed. “I…I don’t know what you’re looking for, Grady, but you won’t find it.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You haven’t tampered with evidence, have you?”
Violet’s fingers dug into her arms. “Of course not.”
Suspicion flared in his eyes. “Did you know your father killed Darlene?”
Her lungs tightened at the accusation.
“Is that the reason he sent you away?” A strained heartbeat passed. “Did your grandmother know and keep quiet about it all these years?”
His cold tone cut through her like a knife. She staggered backward, then turned and ran to the bedroom to change.
GRADY
