High School Reunion (12 page)

“She’s doing fine. Her parents came in from Florida today. They’re taking her back with them for a visit.”

Laurel watched him. Just like every other time, he was polite, friendly and attentive.

His smile produced a blush more times than not, but his body language sent a different message. He stood balanced on the balls of his feet with his arms crossed. He didn’t bend toward any of the women. He kept his back straight.

The redhead smiled and made a little small talk, but after a couple of silent nods from him, she spoke to Laurel and then drifted away.

Laurel chuckled quietly and took another sip of wine.

“What are you laughing at?”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t laughing. I was just thinking how different you are from your brother.”

A grimace flashed across his face, remindi
ng her of the way he’d looked when he found her with James’s picture in her hand.

“Oh, my gosh, Cade. That was a really stupid remark. I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories. I’m so sorry.”

“Forget it.” He set his beer bottle down and held out his hand to her. “Dance with me.”

“What?” She stared at his hand. “I—I suck at dancing.”

“Well, I don’t. Come on. I’ll cover for you.”

She sent him a withering glance. “Thanks,” she said, “but I’m supposed to meet Debra in a few minutes.”

“In eleven minutes.” He took her hand and led her out onto the dance floor. A few other couples were already there, including Kathy and Ralph Langston. Kathy mis-stepped and laughed shrilly.

“Look at them,” Laurel whispered. “Kathy’s laughing, but she looks scared. And look at how tightly Ralph is holding her. Do you think he’s hurting her?”

At that moment, Kathy broke away from Ralph and stumbled. She looked around, spotted her husband who was standing at the bar and headed his way.

Ralph straightened his tie and made a ridiculous spectacle of walking casually off the dance floor.

“Don’t worry about them,” Cade said as he pulled her into his arms and took her right hand in his left. “Now I’ve got you,” he whispered in her ear. “What differences between James and me?”

Laurel’s heart pounded. She tried to hold her body away from his, afraid he’d feel her pulse hammering. But he held her close. “I said I was sorry. It was a thoughtless comment.”

“James has been dead a long time, but people still talk about him. It doesn’t bother me.”

She leaned back and looked at him. “But—”

“But what?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head. He was lying. It
did
bother him. Twice already she’d witnessed the pain that flickered across his face when his brother’s name was mentioned. Why was he so quick to deny his feelings? It obviously hurt him to talk about James.

“I’m not letting you go until you tell me what you meant.”

His palm slid along the waistband of her pants. “Hey, where’s your weapon, Special Agent Gillespie?”

“It’s—” she croaked. “It’s in my purse.”

He bent his head again and his breath was warm on her ear as he whispered, “Well, be sure you can get to it if you need it.”

She closed her eyes against the feeling of his lips so close to her ear. She nodded.

He spread his fingers and slid his palm down to rest just above the curve of her bottom. Her mouth went dry.

“Now, you were about to tell me the difference between James and me.”

“Hmm? Oh.” She cleared her throat. “I was watching how you handled those women.”

He gave her a glimpse of his crooked smile. “
Handled
them?”

Her cheeks heated up, just like one of them. She swallowed with an effort. “You aim that killer smile at each one and make her feel like she’s the only person in your world—in that way you’re like James. But the whole time you’re charming a woman with your smile and your eyes, your body language is sending a different message.
I’m doing my job. Don’t linger.
”

His smile turned quizzical and he looked down between them without missing a step. “Is that what my body is saying?”

“Well, not right now—” She clamped her mouth shut. Oh, my. Had she said that aloud?

“Oh, yeah? What’s it saying right now?” he drawled. His hand on her back pressed a little harder. She could feel the brush of his thighs against her, and his crisp white shirt scraping against her breasts was titillating and painful at the same time. She knew she’d regret wearing the little jeweled silk top with no jacket. Her breasts tightened against the thin material.

“Laurel?” He pressed his cheek against her temple and his lips brushed her ear. “Come on. You started this. What’s my body saying?”

She took a shaky breath. “You know what I meant.”

“Do I?”

Suddenly she realized the music had changed and nobody but the two of them were still holding each other. She stopped in the middle of the dance floor and pushed him away. “I need to—go find Debra.” She glanced around at the people dancing to the driving rhythm of a metal-rock song. “What time is it?”

He led her off the dance floor. “It’s been thirteen minutes,” he whispered in her ear.

“Thirteen? I’m two minutes late. Debra will be frantic. What are you going to do?”

“What do you think? I’m going to follow you.”

“Well, don’t get too close. If Debra hears or sees you she’s liable to bolt.”

He gave her a brief nod. “I’m heading out the front door. I’ll circle around, and yes, I’ll stay hidden.”

She glanced sidelong at him. “Good. Thanks.”

Laurel exited through the side door onto a concrete landing. A couple of sconces lit a half circle about two feet in diameter, but beyond that the area was cloaked in d
arkness. She glanced to the left and right. There were similar sconces every twenty feet along the side of the building. The front of the building facing the parking lot was brightly lit. Several people stood around smoking and talking.

Debra had been right about the side door. It directly faced the old path that led down to the creek bank. Down to the Swinging Oak where the rope hung—where Wendell had been found. Laurel stood just inside the circle of light for a few seconds but nobody seemed to notice her. She checked the time on her cell phone. 8:19.

She’d expected Debra to stay close to the building. Even though she’d said she wanted to meet down by the creek bank, Laurel pegged her for the type who’d be afraid of the dark.

But maybe she was wrong. If Debra hadn’t chickened out completely, then she was already on the path to the creek. Laurel had to get going.

The air was heavy and smelled like rain as she started toward the path. Above her the sky was a deep gray. Below, the ground was damp and slick.

As she moved farther away from the Visitor Center, the darkness intensified. She had a flashlight in her purse beside her weapon, but she didn’t want to attract attention. She moved forward slowly, waiting for her eyes to adapt to the dark.

The moon peeked out from behind a cloud just as she stepped onto the path that decades of horny high-school kids had beaten. It was at the edge of the area that had been cleared for the new convention complex.

The moonlight helped, but the trees cast dense shadows and the heels of her sandals kept catching in roots and vines.

Behind her she could hear the faint sounds of the DJ’s music. In front of her, she heard water.

The creek.
She was almost there. Almost to the small clearing on the creek bank where Wendell had died. She suppressed a little shiver.

Don’t be such a wimp, Gillespie.

So what if Wendell had died down here? She wasn’t superstitious, nor was she a fraidy cat. The night, the situation and the specter of murder were just slightly creepy.

A twig snapped behind her. She froze and slid her hand into her purse. The chill of the steel reassured her. She wrapped her fingers around the handle of her little Smith & Wesson.

“Debra?” she whispered.

Only silence greeted her.

She waited a few seconds, but nothing moved. There wasn’t even a breeze to stir the trees. The utter silence was eerie—unnatural.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps to her left. Her fingers tightened around her gun as she swung it toward the sound.

“Who’s there?”

Chapter Seven

Cade heard Laurel call out. He was twenty paces behind her and although her pale bare shoulders were easy to see even in the dark, twenty paces was too far. He didn’t know what Debra’s game was, but someone was targeting Laurel. Whoever it was,
he
was targeting them.

Trees rustled and twigs crunched just a few feet away. He swung his weapon, but he couldn’t see anyone. Was it Debra? Had she chickened out and run away?

He didn’t think so. The crunching told him the person was bigger and heavier than Debra. The footsteps sounded stealthy, rather than panicked.

He turned his full attention back to Laurel. She slipped almost silently through the thickening underbrush. He liked the way she moved. She didn’t waste time or energy on swaying her hips or swinging her hair. He appreciated that. He’d never been impressed by women who flaunted their bodies or their looks.

Laurel’s femininity and strength were apparent in the shape of her small, compact body. The curve of her shoulders, the gentle swell of her biceps and the firmness of her triceps. As he traced her slow advance, he thought about how silky and firm her shoulders had fe
lt under his hands and how supple and sexy her body had felt pressed against his as they danced.

She stopped and cocked her head, as if listening to something he hadn’t heard. Then she started forward again.

An instant later she was gone.

Laurel!
Cade’s heart crashed against his chest wall. One second she was there and the next—

His first instinct was to surge forward yelling her name. But he had to stay quiet. If someone had attacked her, the only thing he had on his side was surprise.

Had Debra’s call been a trap? Cade slid his weapon out of his holster and eased forward, all his senses concentrated on the last place he’d seen her.

He was thankful for the cloak of darkness, but he wished the moon would come out again. He needed just one split-second of light to get his bearings.

As if granting his wish, the moon peeked out from behind a cloud, lending pale light and sinister shadows to the overgrown area where Laurel had disappeared.

He held his breath and waited, while his nerves screamed and his muscles cramped. Then his eyes caught a shadowy flicker that was out of sync—moving in the wrong direction. He swung his weapon toward it, just as he heard a quiet gasp.

“Oh, God, Debra!”

Laurel.
He had no time to chase shadows. Gripping his gun in both hands, he headed toward Laurel’s voice. Silvery moonlight lay like a layer of dust over two figures on the ground.

“Laurel?”

She started and twisted around. “Cade?” Her eyes glittered in the pale moonlight. “Oh, Cade, she’s dead.”

“Are you sure?” He swept the area ar
ound them with his gaze, his ears tuned to any odd sound. But everything seemed quiet. Shifting his stance, he dug a small, high-powered flashlight out of his pocket.

She nodded. “No pulse.”

Her voice was shaky but calm. He was sure she’d seen her share of dead bodies in her job, but this was different. Even if she hadn’t liked Debra, she’d known her.

Cade crouched beside her. “Did you see anything? Hear anything?”

“I tripped over her.” Anguish laced her voice.

Cade shone the flashlight’s beam on Debra’s face.

“Look at her, Cade. Her face, her lips.” She carefully lifted an eyelid. “Petechial hemorrhaging. She was strangled.”

Cade nodded as helpless anger burned in his chest. Debra didn’t deserve this. She’d been trying to help.

“May I see your flashlight?” she asked.

He handed it to her and watched as she swept the light across every inch of Debra’s face and neck.

“Check out her neck,” he said. “The bruising.”

She nodded. “I think her hyoid bone is broken.”

“Just like Wendell.”

Laurel met his gaze, her eyes wide and filled with horror. “Just like Wendell,” she whispered.

I
T WAS WELL
after midnight by the time Cade had rounded up all the reunion party guests, gotten the medical examiner down from Three Springs to pronounce Debra dead and cordoned off the crime scene.

Laurel began questioning the guests while he processed the scene. The editor of the weekly Dusty Springs newspaper had been recording the reunion activities, so Laurel had him set up his video camera to record her interrogations for the record.

Once the medical examiner had left to transport Debra’s body back to Three Springs for an autopsy, Cade did a preliminary walk-through of the crime scene. He found Laurel’s purse with her gun still in it. But the moon stayed behind the clouds, and rain started to fall. Cade had to respect the fine balance between preserving evidence and trampling all over any clues in the dark. He left Shelton guarding the crime scene and came in to see how the questioning was progressing.

As he approached the small conference room in the Visitor Center, Mary Sue Nelson breezed out the door. She gave him a flirtatious smile, then laid her hand on his arm and transformed her face into earnest sadness.

“How tragic,” she said. “Poor Debra. I suppose you know her husband was having an affair.”

Cade shifted slightly—just enough to get away from her touch. “Oh?” he said noncommittally. “Did you tell Laurel—Special Agent Gillespie?”

“Why, I don’t remember.” Mary Sue dug in her purse and came up with a crisply folded tissue. She touched the corners of her eyes. “I’m so distraught. I just can’t believe she’s gone.”

Cade pushed open the conference room door.

Laurel had leaned back in her chair and was twisting her hair up into a knot at the back of her head. She let it go and its wispy ends framed her face softly. Then she arched her neck.

“Long night,” Cade said.

She nodded as she rubbed her eyes. “Long weekend. And I have a feeling it’s going to get longer.”