bad cop?”
He glared at his deputy. “I was just doing my job.” And trying to find out the truth.
Or were you trying to hurt her because you hate yourself for being attracted to her? For reminding you of Darlene every time you look at her?
“You going to charge her with accessory?”
Grady pivoted on his booted feet. “She was only eight when Darlene died.”
“But she could have come forward since.”
He nodded. He had entertained the idea. And he would charge Violet if he discovered she’d lied.
“Let’s verify Baker’s confession. Look for a handwritten note or bill so we can compare writing samples. Then we’ll discuss strategies.”
“Right.” Logan grunted. “Although she’s almost pretty enough to make a man forget the law.”
Grady’s jaw tightened. He might not want Violet, but he sure as heck didn’t like the lascivious way Logan had looked at her. “Stay away from her,” he warned. “A good cop never gets involved with a potential suspect. And he never forgets the law.”
Logan’s mouth twitched as if he was about to argue. Then he seemed to think better of it, turned and went to work.
Grady dismissed the odd reaction. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could get away from Violet. Then he could forget that he’d almost agreed with Logan.
But not at the cost of letting Darlene’s killer get away.
VIOLET TREMBLED INSIDE. She would never forget the look of accusation in Grady’s eyes.
It had been the same piercing look he’d given her twenty years ago when he’d stood outside her bedroom, waiting for her to tell them where to find Darlene.
Pressing her hands to her temples, she battled another onslaught of tears. She would not cry now. No, she wouldn’t give Grady the satisfaction of watching her crumble. Besides, she’d cried a river of tears the past two days, and it hadn’t helped. She had to be strong.
After all, she’d expected Grady to blame her for Darlene’s death because she’d begged her friend to come over that day. But she’d never imagined he’d believe she would protect the killer.
So why was she defending her father?
Because if he had evil inside him, then maybe she did, too…. Maybe he had been right about her. Maybe that evil was the reason she’d heard the woman’s cry.
Confused, Violet yanked on shorts, a T-shirt and sandals, then dragged a brush through her hair and scrubbed her teeth. The itch to run from this house and her father’s mess gnawed at her, but she couldn’t run away. Not without knowing the truth.
But what if Grady found something in the house? And why hadn’t she thought to look around last night after he’d left?
You were too shaken by coming home again. And by everything that’s happened.
Steeling herself against Grady’s anger, she went to the kitchen to brew coffee. The deputy was searching the den, while Grady was examining the pizza box, his eyebrows furrowed.
“The answer to your question is no, Grady. That confession note was a complete surprise.”
He glanced up, a flicker of regret simmering in his dark eyes before his mask slid back into place. “Did you and your father keep in touch?”
“We haven’t spoken in years.”
He nodded curtly, then scribbled some notes in a small notepad.
“Can I clean up this mess now and make some coffee?”
“Let me dust for fingerprints first.”
She stared at him, wondering where the kind boy she’d once known had gone. Had he died the same day Darlene had?
Well, she refused to stand here and watch him tear apart her house. She stalked out onto the front porch, more questions assailing her. If her father had killed Darlene twenty years ago and had brought her to the house, which Violet knew hadn’t happened, any evidence would be long gone. So why fingerprint the kitchen if he thought her father had committed suicide?
What exactly was Grady looking for?
GRADY WINCED AT THE SOUND of the screen door slamming, then frowned when Violet’s car tore down the graveled drive. As much as she might not want to face the fact that her father was a murderer, he had to know the truth.
She’d claimed she wanted that, too. But would she be able to handle it?
Would he, if he discovered his own father had something to do with Baker’s death?
Logan whistled as he scavenged through the desk in the den, bringing Grady out of his reverie with the location of a bill for signature comparison. Other than that, Baker’s house offered little in the way of clues, except the fact that Jed had been as depressed and lackadaisical about life as his own father. The two of them seemed so much alike that they should have been friends instead of enemies. But something had torn them apart.
Secrets. What were they?
Grady checked the refrigerator, logging the contents, then scanned the sink and counter. The uneaten pizza in its box, full six-pack of beer and the want ads on the counter disturbed him. Why would a man buy food and beer and job-hunt right before he killed himself?
It didn’t make sense.
He copied down the number of the pizza place. He’d check and see what time and day Baker had bought it. That, along with the M.E.’s report on the time of death, might help him piece together the chain of events that had led to Baker’s trip to Briar Ridge.
Other details bothered Grady. Why would Baker go to the mountains to kill himself instead of doing it at home? If guilt had triggered the suicide, why wouldn’t he have returned to the scene of the crime to take his life?
“Not much in here but some old magazines.” Logan gestured toward the desk. “Oh, and there’s a couple of photo albums of his daughter. Thought she told you they weren’t close.”
“She did. Said they hadn’t spoken in years.”
“That’s strange.” Logan pointed to three scrapbooks. “There’s all kinds of pictures of Violet growing up.”
Grady frowned. Had Violet lied to him about not staying in touch with her father?
NEEDING A REFUGE from Grady Monroe and her past, Violet drove into town and parked in front of the Rosebud Café. Without sleep, she desperately had to have caffeine and food.
Hoping no one in town would recognize her yet, she ducked her head and entered the café. It was like entering a time warp. Nothing had changed. The same earthy adobe and turquoise colors, the warm smell of coffee and biscuits, the same Native American artifacts filled the place.
Three elderly women
