Miss Jenny, thank you for the information. Im going to head out now and let you get some rest. Nix closed up his notebook and put it back in his pocket. You just let me know if you remember anything else.
I dont know how much help Ive been, Jenny said with a sigh.
Youve been a big help, Briar assured her. Now I want you to concentrate on feeling better. Okay?
Whos going to keep Logan for you while Im all trussed up in this thing? Jenny feebly lifted the heavy cast on her broken arm.
Briar hadnt had time to think that far ahead. Ill figure it out, Aunt Jenny. You know I always do.
Im sorry. I shouldnt have opened the door.
As Nix headed for the door, Briar bent and kissed her aunts furrowed brow. You didnt do anything wrong. Dont fret yourself about it, okay?
She waited by her aunts bedside until the older woman had drifted back to sleep. Then she tiptoed out of the room.
Nix was waiting outside the door, leaning against the wall. Shes lucky to be alive.
I know. Briar pushed back the springy curls that had slipped the bonds of her ponytail holder to fall in her face. Shed already had a rougher night off duty than shed had on patrol. What are the odds this break-in isnt related to the previous one?
Nix fell into step with her as she started down the hallway toward the waiting room. I dont know. We thought the last break-in was related to Danas visit, remember?
The Cumberland curse, she murmured. Shortly after Dana had made a visit to Briars cabin, someone had broken in and trashed the place. Briar had assumed the break-in might have been an act of malice, to punish her for letting Tallie Cumberlands daughter into her home.
The people of her small community, Cherokee Cove, had come to blame the Cumberlands for almost everything that went wrong in their world. Dana Masseys mother, Tallie Cumberland, had become the target of a ruthless wealthy family after shed accused them of stealing her child.
Dalton Hales family, in fact.
It didnt matter that Tallie had told the truth. Subtly but unmistakably, Sutherlands and Hales had let it be known that any friend of a Cumberland was an enemy. And their influence in Bitterwood was far and wide. Nobody defied them without consequences. Tallie had left Bitterwood before the age of twenty, driven from town along with her family.
When Dana Massey had come to Bitterwood a couple of months ago, looking so much like her mother, a new round of Cumberland-curse fever had commenced. At the time of the last break-in, Briar and Nix had assumed one of her Cherokee Cove neighbors had been leaving her a message about mixing with Cumberlands.
Now she wasnt so sure.
Is Dalton Hale still here? she asked Nix.
He was still in the waiting room when I left.
Great, she thought. Just great.
What the hell did he want with her, anyway? Why had he been asking questions about Johnnys murder? That mystery had been languishing in cold-case territory for months now.
Why was the Ridge County prosecutors office suddenly interested in the murder again?
* * *
DALTON HALE HAD never seen himself as an angry man. Passionate, yes. Forceful in the pursuit of justice. But not one who possessed the kind of bitter rage that destroyed the lives and families of those who passed through his world.
But he was angry now. Fury burned in his gut like acid, eating away at every vestige of the man hed once believed himself to be. It had poisoned his relationship with his father and grandfather until hed found himself struggling to speak to them with any semblance of civility. It had ripped holes in the solid foundation of his career, taking him overnight from golden boy to uncertain risk in the eyes of the men and women who could make or break his future.
And for what? For a lie told years ago and a truth buried for over three decades. The vindication of a woman long dead and the total destruction of a man whose name had once meant something, not just here in Tennessee but all the way to the steps of the United States Capitol.
In a world where very little in life was fair, Dalton had spent his own life trying to even the odds for people without power or privilege.
People like the woman who had given birth to him.
And now he was angry at her, too. For having existed. For having come back here nearly fifteen years ago for one last look at the son shed left behind. For becoming, with her husband, a victim of his grandfathers steely will and his fathers emotional weakness.
And for giving birth to another son and a daughter who had invaded his well-planned world and asked inconvenient questions about a truth that should have remained buried.
They had made him into a man he didnt recognize anymore.
And he was angry at himself, most of all, for letting them.
Maybe if hed been brought up by earthy, straight-talking mountain folk like his birth mother, he could have vented all this rage in one rip-roaring, glass-smashing, fist-flying explosion. Gone on a tear and let the fury have reign. Got it out of his system and been done with it.
But hed been raised by Nina Hale, not Tallie Cumberland. And Hales didnt throw angry fits. They kept their emotions under control, functioning on reason and behaving at all times with civility and good manners.
Except when they were killing inconvenient people, he reminded himself as he faced his half brother with clenched fists and fought the urge to take a swing.
What evidence do you have to support your theory about Johnny Blackwood? Doyles calm tone was deceptive. Dalton didnt miss the dangerous gleam of anger in the chiefs green eyes, eyes so like his own that hed all but given up hoping the past couple of months had all been one nightmarish mistake.
Im not prepared to try my case before you, chief.
In other words, youre talking out your
Laney put her hand on Doyles arm, stopping him midsentence. Daltons been looking into the Wayne Cortland case, she told her fiancé. Hes been trying to unravel the Tennessee side of the organization, see if he can build criminal cases against everyone involved.
Doyles expression took on a slight grudging hint of admiration that caught Dalton by surprise. Even worse, he felt an answering flutter of something that might be satisfaction deep in the pit of his gut, as if the chiefs approval actually mattered. He beat back the sensation with ruthless determination.
I have to confess, I dont know a lot about Johnny Blackwood, Doyle said in a less confrontational tone. I know he was murdered several months ago, and the case went cold pretty quickly.
Its not his murder that interests me, Dalton answered before he remembered he didnt want to share any information with the chief. He sighed, knowing what hed said would only make Massey more, not less, interested in Johnny Blackwoods possible connection to Cortland.
Fortunately, Briar Blackwood chose that moment to return to the waiting room. She looked tired and angry, her black curls spilling into her face from her untidy ponytail as she strode into the room. Her storm-cloud eyes locked with his, and she gave a curt backward nod of her head, a silent invitation to join her outside. She murmured something to Nix and then walked out of the waiting room again.
I have to go, Dalton murmured, already moving toward the door.
I have to go, Dalton murmured, already moving toward the door.
Be careful. Shes tougher than she looks. Doyles words sounded more like a taunt than a warning.
His back stiffening, Dalton left the waiting room and looked up and down the corridor for the Blackwood woman.
She stood at the window at the far end of the hall, her back to him. She had a neat, slim figure accentuated by snug jeans and a curve-hugging long-sleeved T-shirt. The messy ponytail had almost given up, gathering only a small clump of curls at the back of her neck while the rest of her hair spilled free across her shoulders. As he walked toward her, she reached back and pulled the elastic band free, letting the rest of her hair loose to tangle and coil around her neck.
An unexpected tug in his groin caught Dalton by surprise. His steps faltered before he caught himself.
Not an option, Hale. Not even close to an option.
Unfortunately, the more he tried not to think about Briar Blackwood as a woman, the more of her feminine features he noticed. Like the perfect size of her breasts, neither too large nor too small for her compact frame. Or the flare of her hips and curvy contours of her bottom.
She had a fine face, toomore interesting than conventionally pretty, with lightly tanned skin splashed with small cinnamon freckles and large black-fringed eyes currently the color of antique pewter.
Fire flashed in those gray eyes as she turned to look at him. Mr. Hale, I dont know what you think you know about my husband or his murder, but if you think its a way to get back at your brother and sister
Dont call them that.
Her dark eyebrows notched slightly upward. You dont get to tell me what to do. I dont sugarcoat the truth. You and the chief share a mother. You dont have to like it. I dont reckon he likes it much himself, but there you are anyway. And if youre messing around in my life because you think itll piss off your brother, you can just move along and find somebody else to use. I wont be party to it.
He wanted to be angry at her for her bluntness, but in truth, he found it something of a relief. Everybody else he knew, friends and colleagues hed known for years, seemed to walk around on eggshells around him, as if they feared speaking plainly about the train wreck his life had become. He might not like what Briar Blackwood had to say, but at least she was saying it aloud and without apology.
Understood, he said with similar bluntness. But my interest in your husbands murder has nothing to do with Massey.
Then why are you suddenly interested in what happened to Johnny?
He studied her, wondering if her straightforward style and call a spade a spade philosophy extended to her own life. Why arent you more interested, Mrs. Blackwood?
His question hit the mark. He saw her eyes widen slightly, and her pink lips flattened with annoyance. What makes you think Im not?
Most people who lose a loved one to murder dont move on with their lives so easily.
The fire returned to those gunmetal eyes. What would you have me do? Bury myself with him? Turn the cabin into a shrine and worship his memory? I have a small son. I have bills to pay and debts to honor. I dont have time to haunt the police station begging them to solve his case. I was there for the whole thing. I knew how hard they tried to follow leads. But there werent any leads to follow. Not here in Ridge County.
Where, then, if not here in Ridge County? he asked softly.
Up flickered those eyes again, changing tone with quicksilver speed. Now they were hard edged and cold as hoarfrost. What made you come to Maryville at this time of night to ask me questions about my husband? Why tonight, smack in the middle of all this uproar?
She wasnt going to tell him what he needed to know, he saw, unless he gave her something in return. The chief was rightshe was tougher than she looked. But how much could he tell her without driving her further away?
Im investigating the Wayne Cortland crime organization. I assume, as a police officer, you have at least a passing knowledge of the case.
She nodded quickly. I do.
Much of the information hed gathered over the past few months was highly confidential, but he had a feeling he wouldnt get far with this woman if he didnt cough up a little new information. But the newest revelation of his ongoing investigation, the lead that had brought him to Maryville Mercy Hospital in the middle of the night, was something he didnt think Johnny Blackwoods widow wanted to hear.
Im trying to connect the dots between Cortland and some of the Tennessee groups that may have been working for him.
I know. My cousin Blake is part of the Blue Ridge Infantry. Tennessee division. She spoke in a dry, humorless drawl liberally spiced with disdain. Clearly not a fan of either her cousin or his pretense of patriotism. Good. That made his work here marginally less difficult.
But only marginally.
He paused a moment to size her up again, telling himself it wasnt an excuse to appreciate once more her tempting curves. But his bodys heated reaction demolished that lie in a few accelerated heartbeats.
He forced his focus back to the problem of her husbands potential involvement in Cortlands organization. How much did you know about your husbands job?
She hadnt been expecting that question, he saw. Her brows furrowed and she cocked her head slightly to one side, countering with a question of her own. What do you know about my husbands job?
He was a driver with Davenport Trucking.
Her eyes narrowed. And because Wayne Cortland was trying to take control of Davenport Trucking through a proxy, youre wondering if Johnny might have been on Cortlands payroll.
Yes, he answered, though it wasnt the entire truth. He hadnt made the connection between Johnny and Cortland because of Davenport Trucking, but if she bought that reason for his questions, hed go with it.
Thats thin gruel, she said with a shake of her head. There are dozens of people driving trucks for Davenport Trucking. You have another reason for targeting Johnny.
He was murdered.
And you think its connected to Cortland because...?
She wasnt going to be mollified by half truths, he saw with dismay. Not only was she tougher than she looked; she was smarter than hed reckoned.
Still, he gave it one more shot, not so much out of concern for her feelings as from his own bone-deep weariness of scandal and acts of betrayal. Can you accept that I have my reasons and Im not inclined to share them?
The look she gave him was uncomfortably penetrating. He felt himself closing up in defense, not ready to have her poking around in his brain.
She turned suddenly and started walking away.
Wait. He trailed after her.
She stopped and whirled around so quickly he almost barreled into her. I want the truth. I dont need you to protect my feelings or try to handle me. If you cant play fair, you can count me out of your game.
Its not a game.
What drew your attention to my late husband? What makes you think hes connected to Wayne Cortland?
There was steel in her voice but also a hint of a tremor, as if she knew whatever he had to say would be bad. So she hadnt been naive about Johnny Blackwoods personal failings, he thought. It wouldnt make the truth any less sordid, but she might be less injured by the blow.