Charlie saw it coming: the crack in her strength, the loss of her control. Until this moment Grace had shown an incredible amount of poise in dealing with the mess that had become her life.
Now she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes and lips that trembled uncontrollably, and he knew she’d reached the end of that strength.
“Grace.” He said her name softly.
“She couldn’t have done this, Charlie? Surely she didn’t do this?” They weren’t statements of fact but questions of uncertainty, and he knew the agony the doubts must be causing her.
Again the crazy, overwhelming need to hold her, to be her soft place to fall, swept over him. He touched her shoulder, then placed his hand beneath her arm to help her to her feet.
The tears in her eyes streamed down her cheeks, and when Charlie wrapped his arms around her, she didn’t fight the embrace—she fell into it.
Her body fit perfectly against his, molding to him with sweet familiarity. A rush of emotions filled him—compassion because of the ordeal she was going through, fear for what she might have to face, and finally a desire for her that he couldn’t deny.
The vanilla scent of her hair coupled with that familiar jasmine fragrance filled his head, making him half dizzy.
The embrace was over soon after it began. Grace jumped back as if stung by the physical contact. “I’m okay,” she exclaimed as a stain of color spread across her cheeks.
“I never thought otherwise,” he replied dryly. He’d be a fool to think that it had been his arms she’d needed around her, his comfort she’d sought. She’d just needed a little steadying, and if it hadn’t been him, it would have been anyone.
She didn’t need steadying anymore. Her shoulders were once again rigid as she went around the room, gathering clothes in her arms. After he took the clothes from her, she went into the adjoining bathroom and returned a moment later with a small overnight bag he assumed held toiletries.
“That should do it,” she said. Any hint of tears was gone from her eyes, and they once again shone with the steely strength they’d always possessed.
They left the bedroom and went back down the stairs. She relocked the front door, then they stowed Hope’s things in the car and headed back to the caretaker cottage where Lana and Leroy Racine lived.
If Charlie was going to mount a credible defense for Hope, he knew that to create reasonable doubt he had to identify another potential suspect with a motive for murder.
He’d never met the Racines, and as he and Grace walked across the lush grass to the cottage in the distance, he asked her some questions about the couple.
“How long have Lana and Leroy worked for William?”
“Lana was William’s housekeeper when my mother married him. She married Leroy about ten years ago and soon after had their son, Lincoln.”
“Leroy works the grounds?” he asked.
She nodded. “William hired him when he and Lana got married. As you can see, he does a great job.”
“Theirs is a happy marriage?”
She shrugged. “I assume so. I’m not exactly privy to their personal life, but they seem very happy. They’re both crazy about Lincoln.”
They fell silent as they reached the house. It was an attractive place, painted pristine white with black shutters. The porch held two rocking chairs and several pots of brilliant flowers.
Grace knocked on the door, and an attractive red-haired woman who looked to be in her forties answered. She took one look at Grace and broke into torrential sobs.
Grace’s eyes misted once again, and she quickly embraced the woman in a hug. “I can’t believe it,” Lana cried. “I just can’t believe he’s gone.”
“I know. I feel the same way,” Grace replied.
Lana stepped away from her and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue from her pocket. “Come in, please.” She ushered them into a small but neat and tidy living room, where Grace introduced Charlie.
“Would you like something? Maybe something to drink?” Lana asked as she motioned for them to sit in the two chairs across from the sofa.
“No thanks. We’re fine. I wanted to ask you some questions,” Grace said. “Is Leroy here?”
“He just left to pick up Lincoln from school.” Lana looked at Charlie. “Lincoln goes to the Raymond Academy in Linden.”
Charlie had heard of the exclusive private school located in a small town just north of Cotter Creek. Tuition was expensive, especially for parents working as a housekeeper and a gardener.
On the end table next to him, he noticed the picture of a young boy. He picked it up and looked at it. The dark-haired boy looked nothing like his red-haired mother. “Nice-looking boy,” he commented, and put the picture back where it belonged.
“He’s a good boy,” Lana said, pride shining in her brown eyes. “He’s smart as a whip and never gives us a minute of trouble.”
“Must be tough paying to send him to the Raymond Academy,” Charlie observed.
“It is, but Leroy and I agreed early on that we’d make whatever sacrifices necessary to see that he gets the best education possible.” She twisted the tissue in her lap. “Although with William gone, it looks like both of us are going to be without jobs, so I don’t know how we’ll manage Lincoln’s school costs.”
“I’d like to talk to you about William and Hope,” Grace said. “You know Hope is in the hospital—that the sheriff believes she killed William and then took some sort of drug to knock herself unconscious?”
“That’s nonsense. I spoke to Zack West and told him it was ridiculous to think that Hope would do such a thing. She’s a sweet child and couldn’t possibly do something like this. Did Hope and William argue? Absolutely. She’s a teenager and that’s what they do, but there’s no way anyone will make me believe she killed him.”
“Then that makes two of us,” Grace said with fervor. It was obvious that Lana’s words completely banished whatever momentary doubt had gripped her while in Hope’s bedroom.
“Do you know of anyone William was having problems with?” Charlie asked. “A neighbor? A business associate? Anyone?”
Lana shook her head. “Believe me, I’ve racked my brain ever since I found him dead in his bed.” Again a veil of tears misted her eyes.
“I can’t think of anyone. He was a wonderful and gentle man. He was so good to me. One time, before I was married to Leroy, I wasn’t feeling very well. I called William and told him I thought I had the flu and shouldn’t come cook dinner for him. He showed up on my doorstep thirty minutes later with a pot of chicken soup he’d bought at the café. That’s the kind of man he was. Who would want to kill a man like that?”
“That’s what we’re going to try to find out,” Charlie said. He stood and pulled a business card from his back pocket. “If you think of anything that might help our defense of Hope, would you please give me a call?” He handed the card to Lana.
At that moment the front door opened, and Leroy and Lincoln came in. After Lana made the introductions, she told Lincoln to go to his room and do his homework.
As the well-mannered young boy disappeared into the back of the house, Charlie felt the chime of a biological clock he didn’t know men possessed.
Since moving back to the family ranch in Cotter Creek, he’d been thinking about kids and recognizing that if he intended to start a family, it should be soon. He wasn’t getting any younger.
Charlie sat down and turned his attention to Leroy. He was a big, burly man with a sun-darkened face and arms. His face seemed better suited for prize fighting, but at the moment his rough-hewn features held nothing but concern for his wife.
Leroy sat next to her and put an arm around her shoulder, as if to shield her from any unpleasantness.
Charlie asked Leroy the same questions he’d asked Lana and got no different answers. Leroy talked about what a wonderful man William had been and how he’d even helped pay for their wedding.
“I wish to God I knew who was responsible for this,” Leroy said, his blunt features twisted with pain. “But, like we told the sheriff, we don’t have a clue.”
“We appreciate your time,” Charlie said, recognizing that nothing more could be learned here. Once again he stood, and Grace followed suit.
“Grace?” Lana looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I know this probably isn’t the time or the place, but Leroy and I don’t know what we’re supposed to do. Should we move out of here?”
Grace frowned thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t do anything right now. We’ll see what’s going to happen with the estate. I’ll check into it and let you know what’s going on. Although I think Leroy should keep up the grounds, I’d prefer you stay out of the house for the time being.” She took Lana’s hand and smiled. “Consider yourself on paid vacation at the moment.”
They all said their goodbyes, then Charlie and Grace left. “They must be terrified, not knowing what will happen to them now that William is gone,” Grace said, as they walked back to the car.
“You should probably talk to William’s attorney and find out about his will. Maybe he made some kind of provisions for them in the event of his death.”
“His attorney is in Oklahoma City. I wonder if anyone has told him William is dead.”
“I’ll check with Zack,” Charlie said. “And you might think about making funeral plans.”
He could tell by the look on her face that she hadn’t thought of that. “Oh God. I’ve been so overwhelmed. Of course, I need to take care of it.” She looked stricken by the fact that she hadn’t thought about it. “I’ll speak with Mr. Burkwell tomorrow to find out what needs to be done.” Jonathon Burkwell owned the Burkwell Funeral Home, the only such establishment in the town of Cotter Creek.
When they got to the car, Grace slid into the passenger seat and Charlie got behind the wheel. He started the engine, but then turned to look at her. “Have you called your mother, Grace? Maybe she should come help you take care of things.”
Before replying, she averted her gaze and stared out the window. “No, there’s no point in contacting her. She’s out of the country, and there’s really nothing she can do here. I’ll be fine without her. Hope and I will be fine.”
He studied her pretty profile. As a criminal defense attorney, Charlie was accustomed to people deceiving him, and he knew all the subtle signs of a liar. Right now he had the distinct feeling that Grace was lying to him about her mother.
It had been a day from hell. Grace sat at her desk in the back of the dress shop finishing up the payroll checks. The store had closed at seven, but on the night before payday she always stayed late in case any employees wanted to pick up their checks early.
She didn’t mind staying. She was reluctant to go home and face the emptiness of her house and the tumultuous emotions that had been boiling inside her all day.
She’d spoken with William’s attorney first thing that morning. He hadn’t heard about the murder and was shocked. He, in turn, surprised Grace—she and Hope were the sole beneficiaries to William’s fortune. Grace only hoped that fact didn’t add to the body of evidence building against her sister.
The rest of the morning was spent making the necessary arrangements at Burkwell’s funeral home. It was one of the most difficult things she’d ever done.
At noon, she and Charlie had taken the clothes and personal items to Hope. Grace visited with her sister while Charlie went to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee.
After the hospital visit, they’d gone back to the Covington mansion, where she went through William’s desk, seeking something that might tell them who would have wanted him dead.
She still hadn’t made herself open the door to William’s room—the place where he had died—although she knew eventually she’d want to search it for anything that might help build a defense case for Hope.
She’d returned to the store at three-thirty, and now it was almost eight. She was exhausted but made no move to head home.
She’d just finished writing the last check when she heard the faint whoosh of the store door opening. “Grace?” a familiar voice called.
Grace jumped up from the desk and hurried out of her office. Standing just inside the door, with an eight-month-old baby boy on her hip, was Rachel Prescott, Grace’s best friend.
“Oh honey, I just heard the news.” Rachel approached her with a wrinkle of concern dancing across her forehead. “Jim had a three-day conference in Dallas, and I decided to go with him. We just got home a little while ago. How are you doing?”
“I’m okay. At least I’m trying to be okay.” Grace smiled at the baby boy, who gave her a sleepy smile in return, then leaned his head against his mother’s chest. “How’s my Bobby?” She reached out and stroked his silky dark hair.
“He’s pooped. He didn’t have his nap today. So, tell me, what’s this I hear about Hope being a suspect?”
“The medical examiner determined that William was killed between six and ten in the morning. Hope was the only one home. There were no signs of forced entry, and the murder weapon was found in Hope’s hand.” As Grace ticked off the pertinent points, a wave of discouragement swept over her.
Rachel laid a gentle hand on Grace’s shoulder. “Sounds bad, but we both know Hope isn’t capable of killing anybody.” Grace smiled gratefully.
“I also heard you’ve hooked up with Charlie Black again,” Rachel added, a hint of disapproval in her voice.
“Not hooked up as in ‘hooked up,’ I’ve just hired him to investigate the murder, and if the world goes crazy and Hope is arrested, I want him to defend her.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow. “And who is defending you from Charlie?”
Rachel was the only person who knew the truth about how Charlie had broken Grace’s heart, and she’d proclaimed him the most black-hearted, vile man on the face of the planet. At the time, Grace had relished her friend’s anger on her behalf.
“Don’t worry, I have no intention of making the same mistakes where Charlie is concerned. I just need him right now. He’s good at what he does, but that doesn’t mean I want him in my life on a personal level. I haven’t forgotten, and I certainly haven’t forgiven him.”
Unfortunately, that didn’t mean she didn’t want him on some insane level. Over the last couple of days, she’d realized there was a part of her that had never really gotten over him.
“I just don’t want to see you hurt again,” Rachel said. “It’s bad enough that you haven’t dated since the breakup.”
“That has nothing to do with him,” Grace protested. “You know how busy I’ve been here at the shop.”
“I know this place has become the perfect excuse for you,” Rachel replied dryly.
Grace didn’t respond. She couldn’t exactly argue the point because she knew there was more than a kernel of truth to Rachel’s words.
“Take that baby home and put him to bed,” she finally said.
“Is there anything I can do? Any way I can help?” Rachel asked.
“Just pray they find the guilty party and that they don’t arrest my sister,” Grace replied. At that moment, the door to the shop opened once again, and one of her young, part-time employees came in to get her paycheck.
When Rachel and Bobby left, Grace gave the high school girl her check and then returned to her desk in the back room. She’d give it another half an hour or so before locking up the store and going home.
She kicked off her shoes beneath the desk and reached for the mug that held the last of the lukewarm coffee she’d been drinking all evening.
Charlie. Drat the man for being as attractive as he’d been eighteen months ago. From all indications, he appeared to have settled into ranching and small-town life with his usual aplomb.
The hard edge he’d possessed before seemed to be missing. He was still strong and self-assured, but he somehow seemed a bit more sensitive than he’d been during their six months together.
Not that it mattered. The familiar saying flitted through her mind: Screw me once, shame on you. Screw me twice, shame on me. She would be a fool to allow Charlie back into her heart in any way, shape or form. Charlie had proven himself unable to keep his pants on around other women.
Her present attraction to him was surely just due to her belief that he could save her sister and somehow make sense of the senseless.
She closed her business checkbook and locked it in the bottom desk drawer. Time to go home. Maybe tonight she would sleep without nightmares.
Maybe tonight visions of a blood-covered, knife-wielding Hope wouldn’t haunt her. Maybe images of a dead William wouldn’t visit her dreams.
Once again she heard the whoosh of the shop door opening. She quickly unlocked the desk drawer, pulled out the checkbook and then walked in her stocking feet from the office into the other room.
“Hello?” She frowned as she looked around the room. It was dimly lit with only a few security lights on, and she didn’t see anyone inside.
Odd, she could have sworn she’d heard the front door open. Maybe she’d just imagined it. She glanced around one last time, then returned to her office, sat back in her chair, put the checkbook away and locked the drawer.
She moved her feet beneath the desk, seeking the shoes she’d kicked off minutes before. Suddenly Grace was eager to get home to the two-bedroom house she rented. She’d lived there for the past five years, long enough to fill it with her favorite colors and fabrics and make it a home where she enjoyed spending time.
Successful in finding her shoes, she stood and stretched with arms overhead, grateful that this trying day was finally at an end. Maybe tomorrow won’t be so difficult. One could hope, she thought.
She grabbed her purse, turned off the office light and stepped out. Just as she was about to head for the front door, she felt a stir in the air and saw in her peripheral vision a ruffling of the dresses hanging on the rack.
“Hello? Is somebody here?” Her heartbeat quickened, and she gripped her purse handle. “Who’s there?”
A dark shadow with a bat or length of pipe raised over his head exploded out of the clothes rack. He didn’t make a sound, and the scream that rose up in the back of Grace’s throat refused to release itself as she threw her purse at him and turned to run back to the office.
A lock. There was a lock on the office door. The words thundered through her brain as her heart threatened to burst out of her chest.
She had no idea who he was or what he wanted, but she didn’t intend to stick around and ask questions. She ran past a mannequin and knocked it over, hoping to block his attack and gain an extra second or two to reach the office.
The mannequin banged to the floor, and she heard a hissed curse. Deep. Male. Oh God, what was he doing in here? What did he want?
She gasped as she reached the office door, but before she could grab the knob and turn it, something hard crashed into the back of her head. She crumpled to her knees as shooting stars went off in her brain.
The intruder kicked her twice in the ribs and frantic thoughts raced through her scrambled brain as she struggled to regain her breath. She knew if she didn’t do something he was going to kill her.
“Grace?” The familiar female voice came from the front door, although to Grace it sounded as if it came from miles away. “Grace, are you here?”
It was only then that the scream that had been trapped inside her released itself. The attacker froze, then raced for the back door of the store. As he went through it, the alarm began to ring. The loud, buzzing noise was the last sound Grace heard as she gave in to the shooting stars and lost consciousness.