Best Kept Secrets(142)

"I'll take her to the motel," Reede said, before Alex could

respond to Pat's offer.

"Are you sure?" Pat felt obligated to inquire, though he

was obviously relieved that Reede was taking her off his

hands. "Since the sheriff has offered," she told Pat, "I'll

let him drive me."

The D. A. scuttled out before either could change his mind.

Alex watched his rapid departure with derision. "It's no

wonder crime is so prevalent in this county. The D.A. is as

chicken-livered as they come."



"And the sheriff is corrupt."

"You took the words right out of my mouth." She slid

off the edge of the examination table and braced herself

against it long enough to get her balance. She tried to take

a step, but swayed unsteadily. "The doctor gave me a painkiller.

I'm so woozy, maybe you'd better ask them for a

wheelchair."

"Maybe you'd better check in for the night."

"I don't want to."

"Suit yourself."

He scooped her into his arms before she could protest and

carried her out of the examination room. "My purse." She

gestured weakly toward the check-in desk. Reede retrieved

it. Then, with the emergency room staff enthralled by the

sight, Reede carried her out and deposited her in the front

seat of his Blazer.

She rested her head on the back of the seat and closed her

eyes. "Where were you this afternoon?" she asked, once

they were underway.

"I told you already."

"You were riding even after sundown?"

"I ran some errands."

"You couldn't be reached on your radio. Where were you,

Reede?"

"Lots of places."

"Specifically."

"I was at Nora Gail's."

Alex was surprised at how much that hurt her. "Oh."

"I had to question the witnesses about that shooting."

"Then, you were working?"

"Among other things."

"You still sleep with her, don't you?"

"Sometimes."

She prayed that he would die a slow, painful death.

"Maybe Nora Gail dispatched one of her heavies to do me

in," she said, "as a favor to you."

"Maybe. It wouldn't surprise me. If she doesn't like something,

she doesn't hesitate to take care of it."



"She didn't like Celina," Alex said softly.

"No, she didn't. But I was with Nora Gail the night Celina

died, remember?"

"That's what I'm told."

So, was Nora Gail another suspect for Celina's murder?

The thought made her head ache. She closed her eyes. When

they arrived at the motel, she reached for the door handle.

Reede ordered her to wait and came around to assist her out.

With his left arm around her waist, lending support, they

made a shuffling trip to the door.

Reede unlocked it and helped her to the bed. She lay down

gratefully. "It's freezing in here," he said, rubbing his hands

together as he looked for the thermostat.

"It always is when I first come in."

"I didn't notice it last night."

They glanced quickly at each other, then away. Again

unable to cope, Alex closed her eyes. When she opened them,

Reede was rummaging in the top drawer of the bureau opposite

the bed.

"What are you looking for this time?"

"Something for you to sleep in."

"Any T-shirt. It doesn't matter which one."

He returned to the bed, gingerly sat down on the edge, and

removed her boots. "Leave my socks," she told him. "My

feet are cold."

"Can you sit up?"

She could by leaning heavily against his shoulder while he

fumbled with the buttons on the front of her dress. The tiny

round things were no bigger than pills, and were covered in

the same fabric as her dress. There was a row of them that

ran from neck to knee. He was viciously cursing them by the

time he got to her waist.

He eased her back down on the pillow, pulled her arms

from the tight long sleeves, and worked the dress over her

hips and down her legs. Her slip didn't give him pause, but

her bra did. Once he seemed to make up his mind about it,

he unclasped it with businesslike efficiency and helped her

slide the straps off her shoulders.





"I thought you only had a gash on the head and some

scratches on your hands?" Evidently, he'd consulted the doctor.

"That's right."

"Then, what's all th--"

He stopped suddenly, realizing that the abrasions on her

upper torso were whisker burns. The corner of his mouth

twitched with a spasm of regret. She felt compelled to lay

her hand against his cheek and reassure him that it was all