The Texas Ranger (5 page)

She nodded. “So either the perpetrator took the evidence with him, or he didn't get it and there's still somebody out there, who was helping Jennings,” she emphasized, “and who now has the evidence and may still use it. Money is a powerful motive for murder. What if Marsh had him killed, for some reason?”

Brannon frowned. “He's had people killed before. There could be a hit man on the loose, and whoever he's working for may dig deep enough to find Jennings's source.”

“That means we have another potential murder waiting to happen unless we solve the crime in time,” she agreed.

He studied her quietly. “You've learned a lot in the past few years.”

“Simon taught me,” she said simply. “He started out as an investigator while he was in law school. He's very good.”

“You haven't said anything about Bib Webb,” Brannon said.

“I said I don't have a potential perpetrator,” she replied quietly. “And that's true. I'm approaching the case with a completely open mind. But there's a lot of investigative work to do. I'll give my information to the local district attorney's office in San Antonio, and we can do interviews with the most prominent people in the case. But I want to talk to Dale's mother in San Antonio, the evidence technicians and police in San Antonio, and the prison warden at the Wayne Correctional Institute near Floresville. And to any cell mates Dale may have had or anyone who corresponded with him. Especially somebody who knows computers.”

He watched her, brooding, with one eye narrowed. “Why do you dress like a woman out of the fifties?” he asked unexpectedly.

“I dress like a professional on the state attorney general's staff,” Josette said, refusing to be baited.

“What's your next move?” she asked.

“I'm going to see Mrs. Jennings, and then I'm going to try to get a line on the hit man.”

Josette raised an eyebrow. “Have a good rela
tionship with Jake Marsh and his local stable of bad boys, do you?” she drawled in a good imitation of his own sarcastic tone.

Brannon stood up. “I have informants, which is probably about the same thing.”

“Did anybody question Marsh about the body being found near his nightclub?” she asked.

“The very day we found the body. He's out of town. But his assistant manager seemed shocked!” He said that with a disbelieving expression. He studied her quietly. An impulse had brought him back into her office, when he'd meant to go straight to the airport. Two years, and she still haunted him. Did she hate him? Gretchen said she didn't. But Josette had learned to hide her feelings very well. He'd thought to surprise her into a reaction. The one he got wasn't what he was expecting. Or the one he was hoping for.

Brannon watched her rise from her chair with that same easy grace he'd admired so much when she was still in her teens. She wasn't pretty, not in a conventional way, but she had a sharp intelligence and a sweet nature…. Sweet nature. Sure she did. He recalled the vicious things she'd sworn to about Bib and his expression closed up.

Josette came around the desk and right up to him, unafraid. “I'm not prejudging. That means you can't, either,” she said deliberately. “I know what that—” she indicated his Ranger badge “—means
to you. My job means just as much to me. If we're going to work together, we have to start now. No acid comments about the past. We're solving a murder, not rehashing an incident that was concluded two years ago. What's over is over. Period.”

His gray eyes narrowed so that they were hidden under his jutting brow and the cream-colored Stetson he slanted at an angle over them. Until he'd seen her again, he hadn't realized how lonely his life had been for the past two years. He'd made a mess of things. In fact, he was still doing it. She held grudges, too, and he couldn't blame her.

“All right,” Brannon said finally.

She nodded. “I'll keep you posted about anything I find, if you'll return the courtesy.”

“Courtesy.” He turned the word over on his tongue. “There's a new concept.”

“For you, certainly,” Josette agreed with an unexpected twinkle in her eyes. “I understand the Secret Service tried to arrest you when your sister came home to your ranch in Jacobsville the last time, and they threatened to charge you with obstruction of justice for assaulting two of them in the yard.”

He straightened. “A simple misunderstanding,” he pointed out. “I merely had to mention that I was related to the state attorney general to clear it all up.”

That sounded like the dry humor she'd loved in
him so many years ago. “Simon uses his new cousin-in-law, the Sheikh of Qawi, to threaten people.”

He leaned down. “So do I,” he confided with a grin.

That grin was so like the old Brannon, the one she'd loved with all her heart. She let the smile she'd been suppressing come out. It changed her face, made it radiant. His breath caught at the warmth of that smile.

“If I run into any uncooperative officials, I'll use it myself. He's my cousin-in-law, too,” Josette recalled.

Brannon cocked his head and smiled quizzically. “I forget that we're related.”

“By an old marriage way back in our family tree,” she agreed. “And it's a very thin connection with no blood ties.” She turned away and walked ahead of him to her office door. “I'll make arrangements to see Mrs. Jennings day after tomorrow.”

He gave her a long scrutiny, remembering her at fifteen, shivering in a blanket—at twenty-two, passionate and breathless in his arms. Then he remembered what he'd said to her, afterward. He hated his memories.

She glanced at him and saw the resentment and bitterness on his face. “I don't like you, either, Brannon, in case you wondered,” she drawled.

He shrugged. “Doesn't bother me,” he lied.

“Not much does.”

He nodded curtly, closed the door behind him and she stood in the middle of the room listening to his footsteps die away down the hall. She hadn't realized until then that her heart was doing a rhumba in her chest. She moved back to her desk and stared blankly at the stack of file folders. When her heart threatened to break, there was always work waiting to divert her attention. At least, there was that.

 

That evening, she curled up with her cat, Barnes, on the sofa and tried to get interested in a popular detective show, but her mind wouldn't cooperate. She stroked the big cat's fur lazily while he nestled against her and purred. She'd have to board him at the vet's while she was in San Antonio. She didn't like the idea, but she didn't have anyone she could ask to keep him for her.

As she stared blankly at the screen, she remembered the fateful party that had cost Dale Jennings his freedom.

She'd met Dale at a coffee shop around the corner from the college she'd attended. Dale drove a fancy late-model sports car, and he was personable and charming. He also knew Bib Webb, and was helping him with his campaign for the lieutenant governor's race in his home district, which was San Antonio. Webb was in partnership with Henry Garner, a wealthy local man who'd made a fortune selling
farm equipment. Webb and his wife, Silvia, shared a palatial mansion on a private lake with Henry Garner in San Antonio, in fact. Garner was a lonely old man and welcomed the companionship of Webb and his wife.

A number of influential voters and members of high society were invited to the Garner home for a party on the lake two months before the election. Dale, who was keeping Josette company since Marc had quit the Rangers and left town, invited her to attend the party with him.

It didn't occur to her at first that it was odd for someone like Dale, with rough edges and only a high school education, to be invited to a high society party. In fact, she asked him bluntly how he'd been invited. He'd laughed and told her that he was old Henry's chauffeur and bodyguard, and he'd been invited by nobody less than Silvia Webb to the party. Henry wouldn't mind. Silvia didn't care if he brought a friend, either. Josette had a passing acquaintance with Silvia Webb, whom she saw infrequently at the same coffee shop where she'd met Dale. There was a tall, shady-looking man who came there to meet Dale occasionally, too. She'd never known his name.

Josette was grateful for an opportunity to go to the party, expecting that Brannon would be there, and she could parade in front of him with Dale. It would have helped her shattered ego, because Bran
non had dropped her flat after their last, tempestuous date. But when she and Dale arrived at the palatial lake house, Brannon hadn't been there.

Silvia Webb's reaction to Dale's date had been less than flattering. Her beautiful face had undergone a flurry of emotions, from amusement to calculation and then to polite formality.

Silvia had pulled them over to introduce Josie to her husband, Bib, who gave Josette a look that made her want to strangle him and then he asked amusedly if she was a missionary. Her single party dress was high-necked and very concealing, and she'd been insulted by the remark. Webb had been drinking. A mousy little brunette was standing nearby, watching him adoringly. Silvia ignored her.

Dale had laughed with Bib Webb, which didn't endear him to Josette, before Silvia herded them toward a dusty-looking old man in a dark suit holding a can of ginger ale. He had receding white hair and gentle eyes. This, Silvia had muttered, was Henry Garner. While Josie was returning his greeting, Silvia drew Dale away with her into the crowd.

Henry Garner was a kind, sweet man with a dry wit. Josie had liked him at once, when she saw that he was drinking ginger ale and not alcohol. She explained about her strict upbringing, and he grinned. They found a quiet place to stand and talk while the party went on around them and guests got less inhibited.

Bib Webb was dancing with the little brunette, his face quiet and intent as he stared down at her. He was saying something, and she looked worried. He glanced around covertly and then pulled her closer. She looked as if she were in heaven. When he turned her, as they danced, Josie could see that his eyes were closed and his eyebrows drawn down as if in pain.

Henry Garner noticed Josie watching them and distracted her, talking about the lieutenant governor's race and asking about her party affiliation, successfully drawing her attention away from Bib Webb. When Garner asked her gently if she wasn't thirsty, she agreed that she was. She couldn't see Dale Jennings anywhere. She asked Garner if he wanted some punch, but he chuckled and said no at once. She didn't question why. She was still disappointed that Brannon hadn't shown up. She'd wanted him to see that her heart wasn't breaking. Even if it was.

Josie went to the punch bowl, and Henry Garner made a beeline for Webb and the brunette. He said something to them. Bib Webb smiled sheepishly and the brunette moved away from him to where the band was playing. Odd, Josie thought, and then dismissed the little byplay from her mind. She thought she heard Garner's voice raise just a note, but she didn't think much about it. She got a cup of the pretty red punch with ice floating in it and took sev
eral long swallows before she realized that it wasn't just punch.

Unused to alcohol, it hit her hard. She felt disoriented. She looked around for Dale, but she still didn't see him anywhere. One or two of the older men started giving her pert figure speaking looks, and she felt uncomfortable. Looking for a port in a storm, she made her way back to where Henry Garner had been, only to find him gone.

Bib Webb was sitting down in a chair, looking worried and a lot more sober than he'd been acting before. He was sitting beside the little brunette, who had a small hand on his, and was talking to him earnestly. He looked as if the world was sitting on him. But when he saw Josie, he smiled politely and nodded. She shrugged, smiled and moved back into the crowd.

She was feeling sicker by the minute and she couldn't find Dale. All she wanted was to go home. Mr. Garner hadn't been drinking, so perhaps, she thought, she could ask him to drive her home. She made her way to the front door and walked out onto the porch. Down a double row of steps, past a deck and a garden path was the pier that led out onto the lake. She couldn't see all the way to the edge of it, but she knew Mr. Garner wouldn't be out there. She turned and went down the side of the house. On the way, she ran into Silvia.

The beautiful woman was a little disheveled and
the hand that pushed back her windblown hair was trembling. But she forced a smile and asked how long Josie had been stumbling around outside in the dark.

It was an odd question. Josie admitted that she'd had some spiked punch and was sick. She wanted Dale or Mr. Garner to drive her home.

Silvia had immediately volunteered. She'd only had one wine spritzer, she assured Josie and herded her toward a new silver Mercedes. She put the young woman in the car and pointedly remarked that Henry Garner's car was still sitting there, but he'd told Bib he was going out for some cigars. She waved, but Josette couldn't see anybody to be waved at.

She drove Josette home. Late that night, the local news channel was full of the breaking story of the apparent drowning of philanthropist Henry Garner, whose body had been found by a guest—floating in the lake. A news helicopter hovering over the Garner and Webb estate fed grainy film to the studio for broadcast. Police cars and ambulances were visible below. It was an apparent accidental drowning, the newswoman added, because the gentleman was drunk.