Out For Justice. Susan KearneyЧитать онлайн книгу.
to get so caught up in the glisten of her lip gloss that he underestimated her. “You caught me in the act.”
She chuckled, her lips absolutely adorable and way-too-appealingly kissable. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
If she was trying to embarrass him with the memory of her walking up to the car her brother had lent him and her getting an eyeful of him and Mary Jo Lacy in the back seat, she wouldn’t succeed. Of the three of them, she’d been the embarrassed one. Funny, he could barely recall Mary Jo’s expression, but Kelly’s had been a sight to behold. Her blush had started at her shapely chest, risen up her delicate neck, flowered over her cheeks and forehead. Her teenage-innocent eyes had widened in surprise before her lips had parted into a big round O.
“So what are you up to?” He eyed her from the tips of her new boots to the designer sunglasses she’d grabbed and thrust up high on her forehead.
“Nothing.”
“Yeah, right. When I see Miss Kelly McGovern sashaying down Main Street on this side of town in blue jeans, I know something’s up. If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you had an assignation at the Lone Star Lodge.”
“I don’t sashay. I don’t frequent that establishment. And I have better things to do than stand here and—”
“Better things to do? That doesn’t sound like ‘nothing’ to me.”
“My business is no concern of yours.” She turned around to dismiss him.
He fell into step beside her. “Aren’t you even a little curious why I was following you?”
“Not particularly.” She yanked down the sunglasses.
“Okay.” He matched her, step for step, and didn’t say another word. He tipped his hat to a few of the townsfolk and waited. Wade hadn’t always been this patient. In his younger days he’d been known for his hot blood and his blazing temper. But he’d mellowed during his midtwenties. And he had the advantage here. She wanted to be rid of him, so she would either have to speak to him again or accept his company. He looked forward to either decision.
Her floral scent floating between them, the sunlight shimmering off her blond hair, she stopped on the sidewalk and peered over her sunglasses at him. “What do you want, Wade?”
Her respect? Her trust? Damned if he knew. “It’s not what I want but what Andrew wanted.”
“Don’t play word games with me about my brother.” She almost snapped at him, and he realized that the unhealed wound in her heart was responsible for the rawness in her voice. She’d adored her brother, tagging after Andrew into her midteens, shooting hoops with them in the park and getting underfoot. Andrew hadn’t minded, and Wade had enjoyed teasing the prickly princess. But they hadn’t run into one another that often. Andrew hadn’t brought his friends home much, and as Kelly’s popularity increased into her late teens, she’d found her own group of friends. Wade and Kelly might not ever have even spoken if not for Andrew—and now he was gone.
“I’m sorry. I miss him, too.” Wade ran a hand through his hair. “Let’s start over.”
“From ten minutes ago? Or eighteen years ago?”
She was referring to the first time they’d met. At ten years old, Wade had been the terror of the schoolyard and a class-A bully, copying his father, his only role model up to that point in his life. Wade had caught a stray ball from a group of kindergarteners playing kick ball. No one dared ask him for the ball—except five-year-old Kelly. She’d skipped over in her immaculate yellow ruffled dress, smiled at him like an angel and had plucked the ball right out of his hands, murmuring a sweet thank-you. He’d been so stunned at her audacity that he’d just stood there and let her get away with it.
Wade didn’t answer her rhetorical question. “I spoke to your brother the night he died.”
“And?” she prodded.
“He said that if anything happened to him that I should look after you.”
Her tone turned all businesslike. “What do you mean—if anything happened to him? Are you saying my brother expected trouble?”
“I’m not sure. He sounded more excited than concerned. I didn’t question him thoroughly.”
“Why not?” Her voice turned sharp enough to slice and dice, and he refrained from wincing, especially since he’d asked himself that same question a hundred times.
“The saloon was packed. I was shorthanded and I expected him to be over within the hour.”
She stood still for a moment, clearly thinking. “Have you mentioned your conversation to Sheriff Wilson?”
He shook his head. “I’ve spoken to Mitch, Deputy Warwick. He’s looking into it for me on the QT.”
“Why on the QT?”
He squared his shoulders and it only helped a little to know that she wasn’t prying into his personal life but trying to understand the situation with her brother. “Sheriff Wilson isn’t exactly a fan of the Lansing family. Deputies don’t like answering domestic squabbles.” And his folks had habitually fought every Friday and Saturday night. Deputies had stopped at his house as often as the local coffee shop.
He refrained from mentioning that he’d never liked Sheriff Wilson, but Mitch was an all-right deputy. The man had compassion, probably learned the hard way since growing up half Native American wasn’t easy in these parts.
To give her credit, Kelly didn’t fault Wade—at least out loud. “If you hear anything from Deputy Warwick, you’ll let me know?”
“Sure.” He wished he could see her eyes that she’d hidden behind those sunglasses.
“You needn’t worry about looking after me. I’m fine.”
Once again Kelly dismissed him, her booted feet taking the steps, two at a time, up Doc Swenson’s front porch. Wade almost left her to her business. But when Doc opened the front door and stepped onto the porch, Wade decided this meeting had nothing to do with a personal medical problem.
At eighty years of age and Mustang Valley’s only doctor, Swenson conducted his business inside where he’d converted two downstairs bedrooms into patient consultation rooms, or in the former dining room where he now performed autopsies for the sheriff’s department.
The town desperately needed a younger doctor but like most small towns, Mustang Valley didn’t have the population to support one of the medical facilities to induce a physician to move here. Doc had delivered most of the townsfolk around these parts, including Kelly and Andrew. When Wade’s folks couldn’t pay the bill, Doc had treated the thirteen-year-old Wade’s broken leg for free. These days, for more serious problems, folks usually made the one-hour drive to Dallas or Fort Worth.
Kelly shook Dr. Swenson’s hand. “Hi, Doc. Thanks for agreeing to talk to me. I know you’re busy.” When Wade stepped up on the porch beside her, she stiffened. “Excuse me, but I don’t remember inviting you to join us.”
Doc put his hand on Kelly’s shoulder. “It’s better if Wade’s here. Just two hours ago, we had a couple of kids throw a rock through the front window. Probably just a prank.” He jerked a thumb at a broken pane temporarily fixed with duct tape. “But I’d feel better if Wade walked you back.”
Wade nodded. “Yes, sir.” But he thought it odd that Doc believed she needed protection against a couple of juvenile delinquents and wondered if he had an ulterior motive.
Kelly looked up at the porch roof as if seeking heavenly patience, then back at Doc and ignored Wade. “Fine. Doc, I wanted to ask you about Andrew’s death.”
Doc gestured to a swing on his front porch. “Please, sit. I need to rest these old bones every chance I get—which isn’t often enough these days.”
Kelly settled on the swing, careful to leave Wade plenty