The stranger jerked around at the sound of Navarros voice, and he stared down the hall for just a split second before he slowly turned back to face Marly. She caught her breath at the look on his face. If shed thought him dangerous before, there was no doubt in her mind now. None at all.
What the hell was going on here? she wondered desperately. Who was he? And why was she so afraid of him?
There was something about him, somethingnot quite of this world. Not with those eyes. That voice
Marly sucked in a sharp breath as she finally put a name to her fear. He was temptation.
She glanced toward the end of the hallway where Police Chief Tony Navarro had appeared. It might have been Marlys imagination, but she could have sworn the testosterone level in the immediate area shot to a very perilous level.
Even under such grim circumstances, the irony of the situation wasnt lost on her. She hadnt had a date in almost a year, and now all of a sudden she found herself in the company of two tall, dark, dangerously attractive men. The chances of that happening in Mission Creek were slim to none, and just her luck, there was a corpse in the next room.
Chief Navarro was taller than Deacon Cage, but not by much. An inch or two only. His shoulders were a little broader, his hair a little darker, longer, just brushing his collar. He might have had a few years on Cage, too, but in a fair fight, Marly would be hard-pressed to predict a winner. The only sure bet was that both men would battle to the finish.
All this flashed through her mind in the blink of an eye, and in the next instant, when she saw Navarros hand ease toward his gun, she rushed to say, Its okay, Chief. Everythings under control here. Quickly she holstered her own weapon.
Whats going on? He pinned the stranger with a piercing gaze. Who are you?
Deacon Cage. That dark, liquidlike voice sent a fresh tremor through Marly.
She cleared her throat. Uh, he says he works with Ricky Morales and he came here looking for him
Thats not what I said. Deacons gaze challenged hers. I said Moraless boss sent me over here to check up on him.
Marly frowned. I just assumed
First rule of policework, Navarro said slowly, as he started down the hallway toward them. Never assume anything. You know that as well as I do, Deputy.
Marlys face flamed at her blunder, and she wondered if Deacon Cage had deliberately tried to make her look bad in front of Navarro.
Lifting her chin, she tried to rescue her dignity. I was just asking Mr. Cage to wait outside, Chief.
Navarro gave the man a curt nod. Sounds like a good idea. But dont go too far, he advised. We may have some questions for you.
Deacon Cage hesitated as his gaze traveled from Marly to Navarro and then back to Marly. Lifting a speculative brow, he turned and strode down the hall without a word.
THE FIRST THING DEACON noticed when he stepped outside was that the rain had slackened to a sprinkle. He stood on the porch, listening to the steady drip-drip through the trees as he wondered what was going on inside Ricky Moraless house. What kind of scene had Deputy Jessop stumbled upon that had left her looking so pale and shaken?
Deacon had a pretty good idea. After all, he was not unfamiliar with the scent of death. Hed smelled it before, more times than he cared to remember. One might even say he had an intimate relationship with the Grim Reaper.
He toyed with the idea of coming clean with the local authorities, telling them who he was and why he was in Mission Creek. But he quickly dismissed the notion as hasty and foolish. No one would believe him anyway. He would have to find that one special person, that one open-minded individual who would be willing to suspend credulity long enough to hear him out. Who would be willing to set aside his or her preconceived notions of reality in order to get at the truth.
Was that someone Deputy Jessop?
On first glance, Deacon would have said no. There was a guardedness about her, a self-preservation that suggested she would not easily be coaxed from the safety of her three-dimensional box. And yet something also told him that of all the people in Mission Creek, she might be the only one who could help him find the killer.
Or was that merely wishful thinking? Deacon mused. She was an attractive woman in a quiet, unassuming way, and he wouldnt mind spending time with her, although he knew very well it could go nowhere. His stay here was temporary, and as soon as his mission was over, hed move on. To the next town. To the next killer.
Besides, he came with too much baggage, lived with too many past sins. Slept with too many demons. Demons that would never be exorcised, no matter what he did or how hard he fought for salvation.
But that didnt stop him from trying. That didnt stop him from dreaming about the kind of freedom that was now only a distant memory. A memory he wasnt even sure he could trust.
So here he was. In Mission Creek, Texas. On the trail of yet another killer. Someone who was very much like him. They were all like him in one way or another. And at one time, hed been like them.
So, no, a relationship with Deputy Marly Jessopor anyone elsewasnt in the cards for Deacon, and he could allow her to become nothing more to him than a means to an end.
Hey, you a cop?
Deacon whirled at the sound of the female voice behind him, annoyed that he hadnt heard her approach. But then he realized it was raining again, and the sound had masked the womans arrival.
She hurried up the porch steps, her brittle blue gaze openly curious as she gave him a lengthy inspection. She was probably no more than thirty and had once been, Deacon suspected, very pretty in an in-your-face kind of way. But now she had the hardened features of someone who had already experienced a lifetime of disappointment.
Im not a cop, Deacon told her.
Didnt think so. I know all the cops around here, and Ive never seen you before. She lit a cigarette and exhaled the smoke on a quick breath. So who are you, if you dont mind my asking?
My name is Deacon Cage.
She propped her right elbow in her left hand, letting the cigarette smolder between her fingers. Im Nona. I live across the street. She head-gestured over her shoulder at a little house almost identical to Moraless. You a friend of Rickys?
Not exactly. But we have a mutual acquaintance.
A mutual acquaintance, huh? She gave him a doubtful glance. Pardon me for saying so, but you dont exactly look like the type Ricky usually hangs out with.
Well, you know what they say. Appearances can be deceiving.
Aint that the damn truth? Appreciation flashed in her eyes as she gave him another quick assessment. I saw you come out of the house a few minutes ago. Did you talk to Marly?
You mean Deputy Jessop? We spoke briefly.
Whatd she say about Ricky?
She wouldnt tell me anything, Deacon replied truthfully.
Doesnt matter. Nona stared out at the rain, her expression suddenly forlorn. I already know hes dead.
How do you know?
She shrugged, the action not so much one of nonchalance as acceptance. Because people are dropping like flies around here.
You mean the suicides? Deacon asked carefully.
You know what I think? She gave him an anxious look. I think its the weather. All this damn rain. Its depressing as hell. Enough to make anyone wacko. She grimaced. Marly must be freaking out, though.
You know what I think? She gave him an anxious look. I think its the weather. All this damn rain. Its depressing as hell. Enough to make anyone wacko. She grimaced. Marly must be freaking out, though.
Because of the weather?
Nona glanced back at the rain. No, because of the suicides.
What do you mean?
She hesitated. Lets just say, Marly has some issues and leave it at that, okay?
What kind of issues? Deacon wanted to ask, but he didnt press her. He had a feeling Nona was a woman who liked to talk, and with a little patience, hed find out everything he wanted to know from her without having to resort to anythingdrastic. You sound as if you know Deputy Jessop pretty well.
Nona shrugged again. Not really. We went to high school together, but we didnt exactly hang out with the same crowd, if you know what I mean. Marly was the straight-A-honor-roll type of girl while I was She broke off and gave him a side-long glance. You might say I had a different set of priorities in high school.
Deacon nodded. Fair enough.
I sure as hell never would have pictured her as a cop, though.
Why not?
Nona watched a cloud of smoke drift off the porch. Shes just not cut out for it. Too much of a goody-goody. Lets people push her around all the time. Especially her old man.
Her husband?
Nona shook her head. Shes not married. No, Im talking about her father. Hes a retired army colonel. Used to be the base commander over at Fort Stanton before it closed. Not exactly Mr. Personality, if you get my drift. I knew some of the guys who were stationed there, and they hated his guts. Said he was one mean son of a bitch. She paused to take another drag on her cigarette, then expelled the smoke on a nervous laugh. I dont mean to bend your ear like this. Its justI have a tendency to talk too much when I get jittery. She tossed the cigarette butt over the porch railing and watched it sizzle in the wet grass. Smoke too much, too.
I dont mind. Im enjoying our conversation, Deacon said.
Yeah? Her gaze turned speculative as she gave him another careful once-over.
You were telling me about Marly Jessops father, the retired army colonel, he gently coaxed.
Nona nodded. My mother used to be their housekeeper, see. Thats how come I know so much about them. Shes got stories about that family that could curl your hair, let me tell you. She always felt real bad for Marly and Sam, though.
Sam?
Marlys brother.
Does he live here in Mission Creek?
He came back here after he left the service. Hes moved into their grandmothers old place. Really got it fixed up nice. I even noticed when I drove by there the other day that he has the garage apartment up for rent. Not that Im interested, mind you. She gave an exaggerated shudder. You couldnt pay me enough. Even if it would mean getting to see Sam every day, and thats saying something for me. Always did have a thing for him.
Deacon worked to keep his expression neutral. You say he was in the service? Which branch?
The army, just like his father and grandfather. The grandfather was some big shot general at the Pentagon or something. Sam was supposed to follow in their footsteps, but he quit after a few years and came back here to teach school. From what I hear, the old man nearly had a stroke over it. But Mama said he always did try to run those kids lives. Stayed on their cases all the damn time. They never could do anything right. I guess its no wonder Marly turned out the way she has.
What do you mean?
Nona thought for a moment. Shes justdifferent. She has this way about her. Kind of likeshe knows things the rest of us dont? Its hard to explain, but I guess being strange runs in that family when you consider what her grandmother did. She leaned toward Deacon and lowered her voice. Remember what I said about Marly having issues?
He nodded.
Well, old lady Jessop hanged herself when Marly was just twelve. Marly was the one who found the body. I dont think she ever got over it.
Be hard to get over something like that, Deacon muttered.
Nona lit up another cigarette. Kind of creepy when you think about it, though. Marly was the one who found her grandmother all those years ago, and now here she is a cop, having to investigate all these other suicides. Thats what I call a really weird-ass coincidence.
Weird maybe. But Deacon didnt really believe in coincidences.
Chapter Three
Dr. Alvin Pliner, the Durango County medical examiner, snapped on a pair of latex gloves as he approached the corpse with what Marly perceived as an unseemly amount of enthusiasm. Here was a man who clearly enjoyed his job, she thought with a shudder.
Youve protected the crime scene, I assume. He made the prospect sound doubtful.
Dont worry, its virgin, Navarro assured him. He gave Marly a slight wink at the medical examiners pomposity, and her stomach fluttered uncomfortably. Navarro had that kind of effect. He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, and the .357 Magnum he wore strapped to his hip gave him a certain bad-ass cachet that was downright irresistible.
All the women in town were half in love with him, but no one really knew much about him. An ex-Navy SEAL, hed come to Mission Creek a little over a year ago to meet with the mayor and the city council, and whatever had gone down in those closed-door sessions had convinced them to hire him on the spot as the new chief of police.
From the very first, hed been a different kind of cop than his predecessor. Boyd Hendrickson had been an aging lawman who had been all too content to coast along until his retirement. No one could accuse Navarro of complacency. He took an active role in every investigation, but he also remained somewhat of an outsider in the department, eschewing the standard uniform for jeans, boots, and on chilly days like today, a black leather jacket that made him seem cool, aloof and more than a little dangerous.
Marly dropped her gaze and tried to focus on Dr. Pliner as he moved his gloved hands with quick efficiency over the body. Hes dead all right. Did you notice the blowback on his right hand? GPR is going to turn up positive, I can almost guarantee.
So you think its another suicide, Navarro said quietly.
Lucky Number Four, Pliner agreed. Although not so lucky for this poor bastard. Ill be able to tell you more about time of death after the autopsy.
He continued to poke and prod the corpse until Marly, still in danger of losing the contents of her stomach, had to leave the room. She walked down the hall into the living area and stood gazing around.
The room was sparsely furnished with a battered old sofa and recliner arranged around a small TV. The walls were decorated with Houston Astros and Harley-Davidson memorabilia, and the dining room table was strewn with mechanical parts, probably from the vintage Harley shed seen under the carport. Marly could picture Ricky sitting there at night, listening to a baseball game on TV while he painstakingly restored and rebuilt piece by piece what had undoubtedly been his pride and joy.
Being in his house, examining his personal belongings was a little too much like having a glimpse into the mans private dreams, Marly thought. She didnt want to poke and prod into every aspect of his life, rip away the last vestiges of his dignity. All she really wanted was to go home, climb into a hot shower and wash that awful scent from her hair and from her skin. And from her memory, if possible.