The Dying Game (13 page)
Judd hadn’t been to Griffin’s Rest since early last year, right after the twenty-third beauty queen had been murdered. For the life of him, he couldn’t recall her name. Hell, he didn’t remember any of their names.
Only Jenny’s.
Former Miss Tennessee, Jennifer Mobley Walker, twenty-nine, wife of prominent Chattanooga lawyer, Judson Walker V
.
Strange how he could no longer see her clearly in his mind’s eye. The visual image of Jenny that he’d carried around in his head and in his heart had faded so gradually that he hadn’t realized it was happening. Not until one day a few months ago when he’d thought of her and had been unable to conjure up a sharp, clear image of the woman he had once loved so deeply. He had searched the old lodge for a photo of her, looking in all the desks, every cupboard, every drawer. But only after he’d torn the house apart in one of his drunken rages had he realized that there were no photos of Jenny at the lodge.
After only one visit to the Walker hunting lodge, she had stated adamantly that she hated the place. “God, Judd, it’s ancient and creaky and out here in the middle of nowhere.”
People had thought he and Jennifer were an ideal couple, and in many ways they had been. They’d certainly looked good together. Chattanooga’s Golden Couple. Society’s darlings.
And they’d been in love. Passionately in love.
But their personal interests often hadn’t meshed and more often than not, he had wound up doing whatever Jenny wanted to do. She had loved parties; he’d hated them. He had loved weekends in the country; she’d despised the great outdoors. He’d enjoyed quiet evenings at home, just the two of them; she had thrived on socializing.
“It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”
Lindsay’s question snapped Judd out of his thoughts, thoughts better left in the past … with Jenny. Only recently had he allowed himself to admit the truth, that if his wife had lived they would have had to work hard at their marriage. Sometimes love just wasn’t enough.
“Yeah, it’s been awhile since I’ve been to Griff’s place.”
“Nothing much has changed,” she said.
“I suppose Sanders is still running the show.”
“Griff depends on Sanders. He trusts him implicitly.” Lindsay pulled up in front of the house. “You can get out here, if you’d like, and go on in. I need to park in the garage.”
“Got your own space in the garage, huh?”
“Don’t make anything of it,” she told him. “It’s a ten-car garage. Any agent who stays here at Griffin’s Rest parks in the garage.”
“But you’re the only one who lives here.”
She stopped the Trailblazer directly at the foot of the steps leading up to the porch. Ignoring his comment, she said, “Griff will want to see you first thing.”
“The big man wants to lay down the law to me, huh?”
“Something like that.”
Judd opened the door and got out, then leaned down so that he could look back inside the SUV. “How much does Griff know about what happened between us six months ago?”
“As much as he needed to know.”
Judd grunted. “You didn’t tell him everything, did you?” When she simply stared at him with just a hint of pain in her baby blues, he wanted to tell her that he was sorry, but instead he said, “If you’d told him all of it, he’d have beaten the shit out of me.”
“Is that what you wanted—for Griff to beat you senseless? Is that why you did it?”
“No. That was just an afterthought. If there was any reasoning behind what I did, it was to scare you off once and for all.”
Judd pulled back, stood up, and slammed the door. Before he had time to turn around, Lindsay drove off, leaving him standing there staring after her.
Judd walked up the steps, crossed the porch, and rang the doorbell. While he waited, he rubbed his hands together to warm them. The wind off the nearby lake kept the temperatures in this area several degrees colder than in Knoxville. And the weather during the month of February in northeast Tennessee could be unpredictable. Rainy one day, sunny the next. The temps could be in the sixties one day, then a cold front could pass through and bring snow with it the following day.
While he blew his warm breath on his chilled hands, the front doors opened. Sanders nodded. “Good morning, Mr. Walker. Please come in and go to Griffin’s study. I believe you know the way. I’ll tell him that you have arrived.”
“Thanks.” Judd entered the foyer. “So, how have you been doing, Sanders?”
“Quiet well, thank you, sir.”
“Want to let me in on just what Griff has in store for me?” Judd asked. “Is he going to put me on the rack and tighten the screws or just ask me to bend over and give me a swift kick in the butt?”
Sanders didn’t crack a smile as he closed the doors and turned to face Judd. “I wouldn’t know, sir. But if I were to make an educated guess, I would say he plans to speak to you about how to conduct yourself around Ms. Hughes. And …”
“And?”
“And anything else is none of my business.”
“I thought everything to do with Griff was your business, especially Lindsay McAllister, since both of you are quite fond of her.”
Avoiding direct eye contact with Judd, Sanders walked away. “I’ll tell Griffin that you are here.”
Judd knew the way to Griff’s study. He’d been in the house on numerous occasions, both before his marriage and after Jennifer’s death.
But not once during his brief marriage.
The door to Griff’s den stood partially ajar. Judd nudged the heavy wooden door with his hand and walked into the two-story study. A chunk of burned wood crumbled in the massive rock fireplace. The antique clock on the mantel struck eleven times, announcing the hour.
He had always liked this room—a man’s room, with wood paneling, sturdy leather sofa and chairs, hardwood flooring— because it was totally void of anything remotely feminine. Every man needed one room in his home that was his. In the family mansion on Lookout Mountain, a home built by his grandfather, there was a room similar to this one. It was a room he’d loved as a boy when he’d spent time there with his dad and a room he’d loved as a man when he had inherited the house. But Jennifer hadn’t wanted to live in “that stuffy mausoleum” and had insisted they purchase a downtown penthouse, which had reflected the sleek, modern, minimal ist style she preferred.
“You need a haircut,” Griffin said.
Judd turned to face his old friend. “A lot of men wear their hair long these days. I hear that women think it’s sexy.”
Griff snorted. “You don’t give a damn how you look. That’s why your hair is shaggy, why you’re wearing those old clothes, and why you didn’t shave this morning.”
“Hey, at least I’m clean. I did take a shower.”
“Should I be grateful?”
“Look, if you don’t want me here, I’ll go,” Judd said. “I realize you’ve given me more chances than I deserved. If I’ve used them all up, just say so.”
“If you stay, there are a few rules you’ll have to follow. Are you willing to do that?”
“If the rules have anything to do with Lindsay—”
Griffin glowered at him, a fierce expression tightening his jaw. “How could you have hurt her that way? You knew how she felt about you.”
“I didn’t ask her to care about me, did I? It’s not my fault that she—”
“Bullshit! You’ve depended on her caring, wanted it, craved it.”
Standing face-to-face with the six-four former UT quarterback, Judd glowered at Griff. He wanted to deny the accusation, the words were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t respond. Had he been using Lindsay for the past few years? Had he really craved the tender loving care she had lavished on him?
“I never realized that I might have subconsciously needed her to care,” Judd admitted. “Look, I can’t change the past, but what if I swear to you, here and now, that I won’t ever hurt her again.”
“Then cut her loose, let her go.”
“I tried. Six months ago.”
The anger in Griff’s steely blue eyes sent an undeniable warning. “You should be horsewhipped for what you did.”
“She said she didn’t tell you everything.”
“She didn’t.”
“Then how—”
“I know Lindsay,” Griff said. “And I know what an unfeeling bastard you’ve become. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that you nearly raped her.”
“Rape is an ugly word. I did not …” Judd cleared his throat. He didn’t want to think about how he had mistreated Lindsay, how cruel he’d been to her. “I stopped before it went that far.”
“You humiliated her. You broke her heart.” Griff glared at Judd. “Being a grieving widower whose wife was murdered is no excuse for becoming the kind of man you are now. Do you think you’re the first man who ever lost the woman he loved?”
“I take it that I can’t play the sympathy card with you any longer.”
“You got that damn straight. If you want to be a part of this investigation, from here on out, you’ll have to prove to me you deserve this one last chance. And make no mistake about it. As far as I’m concerned, this is your last chance.” Griff’s gaze linked with Judd’s. “Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“Cut your emotional ties to Lindsay,” Griff told him. “And a couple of other things—”
“You really want your pound of flesh, don’t you?” Judd managed an unsteady smile.
“At the very least.” Griff’s tense stance relaxed. “Barbara Jean Hughes is staying here, under my protection. You are not to confront her or bother her in any way. If you do, I’ll personally throw you out.”
“Has she told you anything else? Has she given you a description of the man she saw leaving her sister’s apartment?”
“No. Not yet. And I have no intention of pushing her. If she’s not pressured, she might be able to remember more and be less afraid to confront the truth about what she does know.”
“I’ll steer clear of Ms. Hughes.” Judd lifted his hand in a Boy Scout’s honor signal. “That’s two rules down and how many more to go?”
“Would I be pushing it too far to ask you to get a haircut, wear some decent clothes, and shave every day?”
When Judd noted Griff’s mouth lift in a hint of a smile, he realized that there might be hope for their friendship. He had taken old friends for granted—friends like Griffin and Camden. He had abused their trust. Had tested their patience. Had driven them away. All in the name of self-pity.
“How about we compromise,” Judd said. “I’ll shave every day.”
Griff grunted. “There is one more thing—I want you to apologize to Barbara Jean.”
Judd eyed Griff curiously. “All right.”
“You’re wondering why I’m not asking you to apologize to Lindsay, aren’t you?”
Judd nodded.
“It would be too little too late.”
A soft rap on the partially closed study door announced the end of their private conversation.
“Ms. Hughes to see you,” Sanders said.
Judd and Griff turned and faced Sanders and the wheelchair-bound woman in front of him. Although he’d gotten right up in her face last night, Judd hadn’t really looked at her. He now realized that she was a very attractive woman, probably in her early forties, with short, curly red hair, and kind, hazel eyes. He saw grief in her eyes, the kind of grief he had once known.
“Please, come in,” Griff said.
Sanders followed Barbara Jean as she wheeled into the den, then stopped abruptly when she saw Judd.
“Ms. Hughes, I’m Judd Walker.” He made no attempt to approach her. “I want to apologize to you for acting like a madman at the hospital last night. I’m sorry that I frightened you.”
She stared at him, surveying him from head to toe, then she settled her gaze on his face. “You think the man who killed my sister is the same man who killed your wife. I can understand how much you’d want to find this man and bring him to justice.”
“Thank you for being so kind,” Judd said.
“Please, come on in,” Griffin repeated, then looked at Judd. “Why don’t you go with Sanders. He’ll show you to your room and you can settle in. Lunch will be at one. I’d like for you to join us.”
Realizing he’d been dismissed, Judd nodded, smiled at Barbara Jean, and walked out of Griff’s den, with Sanders only a few steps behind him.
“Where’s Lindsay?” Judd asked Sanders.
“She’s in a meeting with several of the other Powell agents.”
“Big powwow going on, huh?”
“I believe they’re making arrangements for Ms. Hughes to have around-the-clock protection and preparing for a meeting with Griffin this afternoon,” Sanders said. “I assume you’ll be included in that meeting.”
“Only if I’m a good boy and play by the rules.”
“That’s as it should be.” Sanders marched around and in front of Judd. “This way, please.”
“Just tell me which room,” Judd said. “No need to put yourself out.”
“Where is your luggage?” Sanders asked.
“Didn’t bring any.”
“Very well. Just make a list of what you’ll need and I’ll—”
“Start with a shave kit,” Judd told him. “I promised Griff I’d shave every day.”
“Very well, sir. Please follow me.”
Judd shrugged, then went up the stairs behind Sanders. “You don’t like me very much these days, do you?”
“No, sir.”
Judd chuckled. “Because of Lindsay?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why she’d bother giving me the time of day, I don’t know, not when she has you and Griff wrapped around her little finger.”
Ignoring Judd’s caustic comment, Sanders opened the second door on the right. “I will bring back a shave kit so that you can shave before lunch. What about clothes?”
“I’ll have some things sent down from Chattanooga.” Judd clicked his heels and saluted Sanders, who gave him a withering glare, then turned and walked away.
Sanders was an odd one. Judd had once asked Griff how the two had met and why they had become fast friends. He had been surprised by Griff’s reply.
“Sanders and I met in hell and joined forces to fight the devil.”
Griffin situated Barbara Jean across from the sofa in his den, then sat so that they were eye to eye. With her head slightly bowed and her gaze cast downward, she cleared her throat several times.
“Do you like your room?” Griff asked.