Not One of Us(36)

We exited the back door, which emptied into the parking lot. Sunshine slammed into me, the air thick and sticky with droplets of water that attached to my skin in a fine film. Uncle Buddy waved goodbye, heading the opposite direction. I’d made it halfway to my car when I realized I’d left my file in the conference room. I backtracked and returned to the building. Voices spilled from an open doorway in the hall. One was familiar. Their urgent tones swirled like a symphony in my mind.

At the first open door on my right, Dana and a long-haired man in grungy clothes stood close together by the file cabinets, eyes locked. I stopped cold in my tracks at the tension crackling between them. Dana’s job as the mayor’s administrative assistant didn’t normally include speaking with people on courthouse business.

“I’ve already told you everything,” Dana said with a hiss. “Why don’t you get a warrant and search his records?”

The man shook his head, although I couldn’t see his expression since his back was to me. “I need something besides your suspicions. I need proof.”

“Isn’t that like . . . your job?”

“I’m trying. If you really want me to trust you, then—”

From a connecting side door, Hank Rembert strolled into the room where the two were talking. Both of them abruptly halted the conversation.

“So the driver’s license renewal is downstairs?” the stranger asked Dana, his manner as smooth as an oil slick.

“Right. After you exit the elevator, turn to your left and follow the signs. Actually, I was leaving anyway. I’ll go with you.”

Before they could turn and catch me eavesdropping, I hurried down the hall, heart skittering. What in the world had they been talking about? Search whose records? Was there a political scandal brewing in the bayou?





Chapter 13


TEGAN


Only six days into my first murder case and I was more confused now than the day we discovered Strickland’s bloody corpse. What we’d initially suspected as a barroom fight that had carried over when the victim returned home didn’t hold water. Ray’s confrontation with Sims and his bully-boy friends hadn’t produced a valid suspect. Oliver theorized, and I agreed, that someone had been lying in wait for Strickland to get home from the bar that evening. While Oliver felt confident this was a drug-related crime, my meetings with Jori raised other possibilities in my mind. It couldn’t hurt for me to examine those possibilities away from Oliver’s scrutiny and disapproval.

I wearily climbed my porch steps, wanting nothing more than a quiet evening at home reading over the Cormier file, but loud voices from the kitchen assailed me as soon as I opened the door.

“Pepperoni and sausage,” Luke said. “Thick crust.”

“No. I want onions and mushrooms,” Linsey insisted. “Thin crust.”

“If you want vegetables, why don’t you just eat a salad?” he argued.

I shut the door and sighed. You’d think twins would have similar tastes, but not these two. And special closeness? Forget about it. Ever since they’d turned thirteen, the two went at it regularly. Two years now of bickering. I crossed my fingers, hoping this was a phase about to end.

Linsey turned to me and pleaded her case. “Mom, we had pepperoni and sausage last time. It’s my turn to get what I want.”

A good mom would have fixed a nutritionally balanced meal for her family, something I hadn’t done for the past week. I’d been working almost nonstop, eager to prove myself on my first murder investigation. So, once again, I opted for the easy way out. “Call in one of each and have them delivered. And no more fighting, please.”

Luke called in the compromised order. Appeased, Linsey plopped onto the sofa in front of the TV, shooting me a hesitant look full of hope and dread all at once.

“Mom, have you thought some more about the dance next week?” she asked. “You’ve met Max. He’s been over here several times, and I know you like him.”

Not that again. I rubbed my eyes, feeling too weary to make a decision. It was almost as if Linsey sensed this and homed in, ready to strike while my defense was down. I hated to keep outright denying her permission to go on a group date to a school function. After all, her sixteenth birthday was in less than two months anyway. I’d long promised her that she could begin dating at that age.

Frankly, it scared the shit out of me.

My protective mama-bear nature warred with my sense of fairness. Max had always been friendly and respectful when over at our house. I’d even met his parents at a few football games, and they seemed perfectly normal as well. Neither of the parents, nor Max himself, had any kind of local criminal record. I’d secretly checked, not that my daughter knew that little factoid. It was one of the few perks of my job that I could make inquiries on my children’s friends. I felt no compunction to apologize for it.

“Okay, okay,” I finally relented. Linsey’s face lit with excitement. “But you have to meet my conditions.”

Her face fell. “Like what?”

“Your brother goes in the car with you and Max to and from the dance.”

Luke groaned from his position on the couch.

“And you have to be home by ten o’clock,” I added.

“Eleven o’clock,” she immediately countered. “All my girlfriends’ curfews aren’t until midnight.”