JOSH (20 page)
Her eyes went from molten steel to flinty ice in a split
second. “What makes you think Nix wouldn’t have asked such an obvious question?
Do you have such a low opinion of the police?”
Dalton gave himself a mental kick. Once more he was letting his
anger at Massey taint everything and everyone connected to him. Of course Nix
would have asked the obvious question. “Fair enough.”
Briar glanced up at Laney. Some communication moved silently
between them, for Laney patted Briar’s arm and walked away, leaving him alone
with her.
He sat in the empty chair beside her. “You like handling things
on your own. Don’t you?”
She didn’t answer.
“You’re sitting off here by yourself, away from your friends.
You sent Laney away so you could handle my questions alone.”
“You seem to know something, or think you know something, about
the break-in. So spill it.” She kept her voice low, her hand still drawing
soothing circles around her son’s back.
“I know your husband died seven months ago.”
“He was
murdered
seven months ago,”
she corrected quietly. Her voice had an oddly detached tone, making him wonder
about the state of the relationship at the time of Johnny Blackwood’s
murder.
“You weren’t a suspect?”
Her gaze flicked toward him. “I had an alibi.”
“Work?” She’d still been the emergency services night-shift
dispatcher at the time of Johnny’s death.
She nodded. “Plenty of security video to establish my
whereabouts.”
“But you had a motive?”
She took a quick, sharp breath through her nose. “Is there a
point to this line of questioning?”
He supposed there wasn’t, other than curiosity. He knew the
basics about Johnny Blackwood’s goings and comings during the months leading up
to his murder. It was how he’d latched on to Johnny in the first place—reading
through the case notes and seeing signs of a potential connection to another
case he was looking into. But the personal details in the case file were scarce,
perhaps because Briar was part of the Bitterwood P.D. family. Personal matters
not pertaining to the case would have been minimized and even left out to
protect her privacy.
Like the state of the marriage at the time of his death. The
cops would have wanted to know if there had been trouble in her relationship
with her husband. And Dalton knew that on Johnny’s side, at least, there had
been trouble to spare.
But did his wife know what Dalton knew?
As he puzzled through how best to ask her such a delicate
question, a doctor in a white jacket over green scrubs entered the waiting room.
“Mrs. Franklin’s family?”
Briar’s whole body seemed to snap to tautness at the sound of
the doctor’s voice. She stood, clutching her small son more tightly to her, and
crossed to meet the doctor halfway.
Dalton trailed behind her, catching up in time to hear the
doctor say, “We’ll want to keep her until tomorrow because she lost
consciousness, but she’s not showing any continuing mental confusion, which is a
very good sign. She did sustain a fracture of both bones in her lower right arm,
however. We’ve reset the bones and applied a fiberglass cast to just above the
elbow. She’ll need to wear the cast for at least four weeks.”
“Can I see her?” Briar asked.
“Check with the nurse at the front desk in the E.R.—she’ll tell
you what room she’ll be in.” The doctor smiled, gave Briar a comforting pat on
her shoulder and left the waiting room, moving at a clip.
“Good news,” Dalton murmured.
Briar turned her gaze toward him, her eyes narrowing. “You’re
still here.”
“Yes, I am,” he said, not taking offense. He knew he was making
a nuisance of himself by coming here at this hour of night to bother her, but it
couldn’t be helped. She might hold the key to his uncertain future without even
realizing it.
“I have to go check on my aunt.” She turned away from him and
crossed to where Laney sat, murmuring something before she handed off her son to
the other woman.
Dalton watched her straighten her back and leave the waiting
room with her shoulders squared and her chin up, like a soldier readied for
battle. It struck him, in that brief glimpse of her steel core, that Briar
Blackwood was a woman who thrived on challenges that made other people
collapse.
Could that trait of hers be useful to him?
As Dalton started out the door after her, Doyle Massey rose
from his chair and moved into his path. He was smiling as he did so, in that
charming snake-oil salesman way of his, all teeth and beach tan and ulterior
motives.
“Where are you going?” Doyle asked.
“That’s none of your business.” Dalton tried to take a step
around him, but Doyle shifted, staying in his path.
“I don’t know what you’re up to or why you’ve suddenly taken an
interest in my newest recruit, but don’t drag our bad blood into it.”
Dalton couldn’t help smiling at the chief’s choice of words.
“Bad blood, huh?”
“Dana and I get that you don’t want to be part of our family,
and you know, we can live with that. But don’t think that means we’ll let you
screw with our lives and the lives of people around us.”
“Your faith in my integrity is touching.”
“I have no faith in you at all,” Doyle snapped back, dropping
all pretense of friendly civility. “What brought you here tonight?”
“A case.” Dalton lifted his chin, daring the chief to start a
fight.
“Which case is that?”
Dalton glanced to his right as Walker Nix rose from his seat
and headed for the waiting room door. Off to see after the Blackwood widow and
her aunt, he guessed. Maybe take the older woman’s statement.
He’d wanted to be there for that statement himself, but clearly
the chief had other ideas.
“Why don’t you both try being straight with each other?” Laney
rose from her chair and moved to turn their tense twosome into a threesome.
They both looked at her, and she lifted her eyebrows in
response.
Doyle looked back at Dalton, his eyebrows mimicking his
fiancée’s. “Well? What case are we talking about?”
Dalton was tempted to just leave without answering. But with so
much on the line—not just his own ambitions but the safety of all the people
he’d sworn justice for—he couldn’t afford to let his emotions muck up the
works.
“I’ve been trying to piece together a conspiracy case against
the people we suspect were involved in the Wayne Cortland crime network,” he
said finally, lowering his voice by habit. “You know that Blake Culpepper has
been fingered as one of the people involved.”
“And you come here in the middle of the night to a hospital
waiting room to ask Blake’s distant cousin questions about his criminal
activity?” Doyle sound unconvinced.
“Not about Culpepper.” Dalton tamped down a smile at the
thought that he actually knew something his know-it-all half brother didn’t. “I
came here to ask her questions about her late husband.”
“You have questions about Johnny? Why?”
“Because odds are good he was part of Cortland’s
organization.”
Copyright © 2014 by Paula Graves
ISBN-13: 9781460329177
JOSH
Copyright © 2014 by Delores Fossen
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical,
now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.