felt like a fifth wheel. He wasn’t much for tearful reunions or sappy reminiscences. He was a lot more comfortable behind his badge.
He cleared his throat. “We’d better go, Agent Gillespie.” Laurel’s head snapped up and her hazel eyes sparked.
She got his message.
“I’ll be back first thing in the morning,” she said to Misty. “I’m sure by then they’ll be ready to let you go home.”
She stood just as Mary Sue Nelson breezed in, carrying a funeral-size vase of flowers.
“Misty, darling! What in the world happened? Did you fall down the steps or something?”
“Hi, Mary Sue. Somebody attacked me,” Misty said groggily.
Mary Sue looked at her quizzically before she turned toward Cade.
“Hello, Cade. What are you doing here? Was she really attacked? Who could have done that?” She giggled.
Cade had to make himself relax his jaw. “Hi, Mary Sue.” He could see it now. The scene at Misty’s house was nothing. By the time Misty was admitted there would be a constant stream of concerned neighbors parading in and out of her hospital room. It was the small-town way.
“I tell you what,” he said. “They’re coming to get Misty for a CT scan in a couple of minutes. Why don’t we all get out of here and let her rest for a while?”
“Cade Dupree, you may be police chief, but my mom babysat you when you were in diapers. So watch who you’re giving orders to.” Mary Sue batted her eyelashes at him and laid her fingers on his arm.
Laurel met his gaze, her eyes sparkling dangerously.
Uh oh.
“Here, Mary Sue,” Laurel said. “Let me put that glorious bouquet over here. Where in the world did you get that at this time of night? Now you can have both hands free to talk to Cade.” She took the vase from Mary Sue’s hands. “There. I could hardly see you behind all the flowers.”
“Do I know you?”
“I’m Laurel Gillespie.”
Mary Sue didn’t even acknowledge her. She turned back to Cade. “Who do you think attacked Misty? Was it a gang?”
The nurse returned with an aide who unlocked the gurney’s wheels and began to maneuver it toward the door.
“You should all go home now. Once they’ve done her CT scan, they’ll put her in a room overnight.” She eyed each one of them in turn. “Visiting hours start at 9:00 a.m.”
Mary Sue waggled her fingers at Misty, then turned to Cade. “My husband’s out of town. I’m not sure it’s safe for me to be home alone.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine. If you’re worried, you could go across the street to your mother’s,” Cade replied.
He felt Laurel’s eyes boring into his back and he knew he was in for it. Sure enough, as soon as Mary Sue left, Laurel placed her hand on his arm.
“Why Mister Dupree,” she drawled. “Are you certain it’s safe for me out there alone?”
He should have been irritated, should have shrugged off her hand as soon as she touched him. But her fingers on his forearm felt so different from Mary Sue’s. Mary Sue’s touch had been clingy, needy. Laurel’s was firm and enticing.
He cleared his throat and pulled his arm away. “Knock it off, Special Agent Gillespie.”
“I got your point the first time,” she whispered. “This isn’t old home-week. I’m a professional, Chief Dupree. I know we’re investigating a crime.”
“We?” No way. She was a witness, but that was all. He held the curtain for her to exit the cubicle ahead of him and didn’t say anything more until they reached the parking lot.
Laurel turned to him as they approached his pickup. “Tell me about Ralph Langston. How is he funding the whole reunion?”
“He moved back here about a year ago,” Cade said. “He bought all that land down by the creek, and broke ground for a state-of-the-art convention complex.”
“So Ralph made it big?”
“Yes, he owns the fifth largest web-hosting company on the Internet. And he developed Webelot, the Web page building software.”
“Wow.”
“He’s hosting the reunion at the Visitor Center, and he’s footing the bill.”
“Visitor Center?”
“Right. On the rise above the creek bank, where the old high school burned.”
She looked at him, her expression thoughtful. “I want to go down there.”
“What for? You’ll see it tomorrow night. That’s where the party’s going to be.”
“Not the Visitor Center. The creek bank. Where Wendell died.”
He opened the passenger door of his pickup, but as she started to get in, he stopped her with a touch on her elbow. “This is not your case. It’s mine. You’re on vacation. Remember?”
Laurel stiffened and lifted her chin until her nose was only a few inches from his. “I found Misty. I know what her attacker was looking for. I just gave you a roomful of suspects. Of course it’s my case, too.”
“You’re a witness. Nothing more.”
“You could request the help of the FBI.”
“I don’t think so. All we have here is a home invasion and assault. Nothing the FBI deals with.”
She closed the distance between them by an inch. “What we have here is an unsolved mystery. I work in the Unsolved Mysteries Division of the FBI.”
“There is absolutely no evidence that Wendell Vance’s death was anything more than a suicide.”
“Yes, there is—somewhere. Whoever attacked Misty was after her pictures. That’s obvious. They were trying to destroy evidence. But I intend to find it first.” Her chin went a bit higher, and he could feel her warm breath on his lips.
His whole body went on red alert. Danger!
Gardenias. Warm, sweet breath. A cute little nose and now that he was close enough to see them—freckles.
His thighs tightened. Heat spread through his groin and radiated outward. In a few seconds he was going to have a huge hard-on. What the hell kind of Police Chief got hot and bothered by a witness?
A sarcastic voice in his head answered him. A horny one.
“Nope. I’m involved,” Laurel continued. “You said it yourself, Dupree. I inserted myself into this case.”
“Yeah,”
