DEATH IN PERSPECTIVE (24 page)

“Planted? How would I be planted?” I sorted through the sludge in my brain, trying
to imagine someone knocking me cold at Little Verona’s and carrying me to Vail’s house.
“Why?”

“Evidently, your nosing around pissed someone off.”

“Hell,” I said. “I suspected Maranda didn’t kill herself. Or maybe she did, but was
driven by the phantom’s message. Through blackmail? Guilt?”

Luke leaned his head against mine. “I want you to stop thinking about this. I’m sorry
I brought it up. You need to rest. In the morning, we’ll talk to Herrera. I want to
hear what he thinks before you give him any details.”

“Why?” Luke’s eyes had gone smoky, making it harder for me to concentrate.

“At the least, you’re a potential witness. At the most, a suspect. You have to be
careful what you tell him.”

A shudder wracked my body, and Luke pulled me against his chest. I tensed, but my
body fought to relax into the security of his embrace. Traces of his aftershave scented
his skin and his t-shirt felt like down beneath my cheek. “Why are you helping me?
You’re a police officer. You hate it when I get mixed up in these messes.”

“Because I know you and Herrera doesn’t. You’re not nosing into these crimes because
you’re perpetrating them. You’re nosing into these crimes because you’re just nosy.”

I giggled. Which felt odd, considering the circumstances. Enjoying the steady pressure
of Luke’s firm chest against my weary head, I allowed my arms to wrap around him.
My blanket slipped from my shoulders. Luke reached for it, sliding his hands down
my bare arms and pulling it back in place.

Most likely, we had just stepped onto that hell-bound road paved with good intentions.
But my need for Luke bounded over my barriers of prudence and sound judgement. Of
which, I had little. Heck, the man had offered to face down Shawna Branson for me.
He was willing to stand up to our families. Why not me?

“How long do you think your family’s going to stay mad at me?” He slid a kiss on top
of my head, then slipped his hands under me. Before I could object, Luke lifted me
onto the bed, ready to tuck me in.

“I don’t know. You’re a Branson to them, whether you like it or not.”

“And you’re last name is Tucker, not Ballard.” Forcing his gaze off me, he pulled
the quilt up, covering what his brown blanket didn’t. “But I don’t care about last
names.”

He reached for the chain on my bed light, and I placed my hand on his arm to stop
him. “You don’t care about last names at all? Not even preserving your daddy’s name?”

“You mean making new Harpers?” He released the chain and rooted his gaze to mine.

Heat licked my cheeks, but I held to my question by nodding.

“All in due time, sugar,” he whispered. “But I do like the practice.”

My breath quickened and the heat dropped from my face to my toes, then flashed up
my body to burn my neck. “I want you to stay.”

“I’m not leaving.” The solemn gray eyes didn’t waver. “You’ve a head injury.”

“It’s not my head that’s hurting right now.”

“What about McIntosh?”

“He’s out with Nik.” I sat up and the blanket fell from my shoulders, leaving me in
my tangerine bra. It had matched the fuzzy sweater I had somehow lost during the night.

Luke swallowed. “You’re exhausted.”

“I don’t feel tired.”

“You are wearing me down, sugar.” His hoarse whisper made my toes curl.

“I mean to
.
” I smiled, wondering if my inhibitors had been whacked. Evidently, hormones were
a great pain reliever, because I no longer felt sore nor tired. Drunk on pheromones,
I reasoned.

“Don’t tempt me.” He stood and pulled off his t-shirt, exposing his V-cut to
Snug the Coonhound
hanging above my bed.

I covered my heart with my hand, sure that Luke could hear it whumping as I took in
his gloriousness. Taut, wiry muscle beneath sun-browned skin. I rolled on to my side
and propped my head on my hand. He called to mind the ancient Greek idealized athlete
or my favorite, Michelangelo’s
David
. With chin and cheekbones hewn with God’s own chisel and beautiful gray eyes that
exposed Luke’s emotions against his will.

I was in deep trouble. More than “need a lawyer” trouble. Probably “turn your back
on your family” trouble. Definitely “lose my heart” trouble.

Where was that dizzying headache when I needed it?

“We’re just sleeping. Until my timer goes off.” He pointed toward his watch, unaware
I was memorizing his form for a future sketch.

Luke’s gaze swept from his watch to my curled position. His finger dropped from his
watch to his side. Hitching a breath, he fumbled for his belt buckle. With his eyes
on mine, he leaned over to pull off his boots and socks, then shimmied out of his
jeans.

I sucked in a breath and held it.

He slipped into the bed and gathered me against his chest. Kissing my head, he reached
for the pull chain, and cut the light. “You need sleep. Don’t worry about tomorrow.”

“What made you think I’m worried about tomorrow?” I looked up, trying to find his
face in the dark.

“You’re trying to distract yourself
.
”
H
e smoothed my hair and settled his chin on top of my head. “I know you. You’re riling
yourself up any way you can to keep your focus off what happened at Vail’s. Just using
me for my body.” He chuckled.

“Can you blame me? I might be a murder suspect. And somewhere out there, an evil lurker
is sending malicious texts, driving people to suicide. Or murder.”

Luke stroked my cheek. “Do I need to distract you from thinking about this?”

“I was wondering. Do you think the texts were meant to make one person murder another?”

“I think you need distraction.” I felt his body shift, then his breath against my
face as his lips sought mine. A tongue flicked, a hand soothed, and I pressed against
him wanting more.

“I think you’re right.”

T
wenty-Eight

The phone woke me. I shot to sitting, felt the earth shift beneath me, and grabbed
my head to keep it from rolling off my neck. My eyeballs seemed to spin faster than
a slot machine cranked by a blue hair on her annual pilgrimage to Mississippi. But
the events of the night began sliding into place, my mind clearing out the concussed
cobwebs. When the world stopped rocking, I released my head and found Luke slipping
into his jeans, his phone stuck between his chin and shoulder.

Unless I had dreamed it, the same shoulder found above, below, and beside me at various
times the night before.

Probably not recommended practice for a head injury.

I needed to purchase a football helmet.

“What’s going on?” I croaked. “Time for me to turn myself in?”

Luke shook his head, patted my leg, and sank onto the bed, his attention on the phone
and his socks. By his focus and indeterminate expression, I judged the call to be
Forks County Sheriff business.

My foggy brain and wistful heart hadn’t yet attuned toward regret or happiness. I’d
need coffee to make that decision. I slipped out of the bedroom, checked for Todd’s
return, then stole into the bathroom. No sign of Todd, but I needed to hurry Luke’s
walk of shame before the clan showed and started gathering shotguns and pitchforks.

Back in the bedroom, Luke had pulled on his t-shirt and was gathering his belongings.
I crossed my arms over my oversized Talladega t-shirt and wished the bandage stuck
to the back of my head didn’t make my hair look worthy of scarecrow stuffing.

“Come over here and let me give you a proper good morning, sugar.” Dimples popped
in his cheeks to accommodate his warm smile. “But then again, maybe you shouldn’t.
This time I’ll be the one distracted, and I’ve got to get to work.”

I told my hormones to simmer down. Keeping my eyes off his dimples, I used the pain
in my head and my exhaustion to throw some cold water over the fires he set blazing
with that smile.

“I remember better now.” Leaving off the good mornings, I headed straight for a cold
shower topic. “I went to Camille Vail’s house because Olivia told me Dr. Vail had
gotten on Maranda about seeing Ellis Madsen’s father. I wanted to talk to Dr. Vail.”

Luke’s dimples disappeared as his brows pinched. “Was she alive?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t answer the door. I went around to her back gate and thought
I saw someone. It’s kind of hazy.” I closed my eyes. “I can’t remember who I saw.
But I did enter Dr. Vail’s house. A door was unlocked. She had an original Miro print
above her fireplace.”

I opened my eyes.

Luke had smoothed the worry from his face, but his body had drawn taut. He hovered
next to the dresser, one hand gripping his wallet.

“There was a piano and a hand painted staircase. And a body on the floor
.
” I gulped and shivered. “Dr. Vail’s. She was bleeding. I took off my top to try and
stanch the bleeding, but I couldn’t touch her wound. I should have done something
more.”

“Don’t worry about that now. What else did you see?”

“I called 9-1-1, but dropped the phone. She had a burn mark behind her ear.” I clapped
a hand over my mouth. “Lord have mercy, she shot herself in the head.”

In two steps, Luke pulled me into the safety of his arms. Pressing my head against
his chest, he rubbed my back. “Did you see anyone in the room?”

“I think we were in a hallway. I was going to perform CPR. I can’t remember anything
else.”

“I want you to see your Uncle Will first thing. Get your sister or somebody to take
you. Tell the Sheriff everything you remember. Talk to him before Herrera. If I can,
I’ll meet you at Line Creek police.” He kissed the top of my head. “I have to get.
A deputy on call needs my help.”

I nodded against his chest. There didn’t seem to be a lot of good in this morning.
Grandma Jo had tried to warn me about what happened to wanton women. Unfortunately,
she hadn’t mentioned head wounds, dead bodies, and police stations.

“Cherry, look at me
.
” Luke used a finger to tip my chin up. “You have to be careful about what you say
and what you do. Not only should you get out of this hunt for the texter, you should
probably quit your theater gig.”

“I’ll call Tinsley later,” I hedged. “But what about the lawyer? Am I going to need
a lawyer?”

“Sheriff Thompson will advise you. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go.” He dropped a kiss
on my lips. “Don’t worry. It’ll all work out. I’ll find you.” The dimples reappeared.
“Besides we’ve got some unfinished business that should take place when you’re not
concussed.”

Maybe I wasn’t so wanton after all.
I wanted to ask, “What about us? Would we work out?” But I had already stepped into
my big girl panties and figured the two ship thing might have to do for now, considering
Cody and Tara. And the fact that I wasn’t about to stop my hunt for the texter or
quit my theater gig.

And those were the kinds of facts that tended to cause a rift between Luke and I.
Better we had our little moment before passing in the night.

Back to our separate sides of the tracks.

Ships continued to pass as Todd rolled in soon after Luke had rolled out. By that
time I had showered and replaced the Talladega t-shirt with jeans, a tank, and a comfy
orange and grape flannel shirt. I decided to remove last night from my mind and pretend
the party under the sheets never happened. I had succumbed. I was weak. Achilles had
a heel. Samson had his hair.

I had gray eyes and dimples.

I reckoned I’d just blame it on my concussion. A sore noggin had to be good for something.

At my kitchen table, I attempted to lighten the circles under my eyes with a pot of
coffee and to jog my memory with a sketch pad. My roommate and husband-that-never-really-was
appeared in my doorway, dragging a shot of early morning chill inside with his haggard
expression. Crossing from the kitchen door, Todd snagged a cup and poured his own
shot of caffeine before joining me at the table.

My guilt-ridden, enthusiastic greeting embarrassed myself.

“You alone, baby?” His drawl had gone cautious and edgy.

I blushed. “You see anyone else here?”

He slanted a look down the hall before burying his face in his coffee cup. The skin
around his wide, cerulean eyes wore new creases and smudges.

“I’m guessing you didn’t find Cody,” I said. “Thank y’all for looking, though.”

“I’m worried about Cody, too. He’s like a brother to me.” Todd slumped in his chair.
“How’s your head?”

“Still attached
.
” I grimaced. “I’m gathering courage before heading to the Sheriff’s Office.” I gave
him a scant report of what had happened.

“You think this teacher was murdered or committed suicide?”

“Two suicides? If it had been teens, there could be copycats, but not these adults.
I don’t know Dr. Vail, but every time I’ve seen her she’s either on the verge of a
hissy or royally pissed. Doesn’t sound like a suicide victim to me. And the gun bothers
me.”

“Why?”

“My memory is still fuzzy to be sure, but I can’t recall seeing a handgun. Luke said
the police found one on her.”

“Maybe you were too focused on other stuff. You did find her bleeding out.”

“Maybe. Look at what I’ve drawn from memory
.
” I flipped back a page in the sketch book. “I just doodled, hoping it would trigger
something. I’ve got her lying between a table and a door. I don’t know what room she’s
in, but I was able to sketch her position pretty well. I knew she didn’t wear shoes.”

“That’s a good detail,” said Todd.

“Thanks. And something about her clothes. All wrapped around her or twisted up. I
can’t remember. But she was fond of long tunics and leggings.”

“Maybe the gun was underneath her clothes,” said Todd.

“True
.
” I tapped the sketch pad. “They found my phone under her body. But why would someone
knock me out and drag me from her body if she had committed suicide? Unless I had
interrupted them planting the gun.”

“Maybe they thought you had hurt Dr. Vail, so they attacked you
.
” Todd paused, tipping his head to the side. His forehead creased, reminding me of
a confused puppy. “Then moved you?”

“Then why run when the police showed?”

“So they wouldn’t get in trouble? Maybe they left you for the police to find.”

“Which is something a teenager might do,” I conceded. “Freak out, then run. They must
have been hiding in the house.”

“You think it was the same person texting everybody?”

“That I don’t know. I’m ninety-nine percent positive Dr. Vail was murdered. Even with
my faulty memory. But did the so-called prank texts cause Maranda to commit suicide
or was she murdered? I want to know where Maranda got the ADHD meds. Maybe Preston
King? I wish I could talk to that boy.”

I sighed, pushing away the notebook to lay my aching head on the table. “Herrera brought
Preston King in for selling the fake shrooms, but his parents got him a lawyer. Most
likely he’s untouchable.”

“You think he’s behind all this?”

“No idea. The idea of a kid so malicious that he’d drive somebody else to kill is
so shudder inducing, I can’t imagine it. Could you picture a seventeen-year-old evil
genius? And an art student, for heaven’s sake. I hope to God he’s just a drug dealer.”

“Baby, after what’s happened, maybe you should leave it to the police.”

My hair moved from my face and I blinked up at Todd reaching across the table. He
looked like a pointer sighting a quail, quivery yet still. I sat up and patted his
hand to let him know I’d be all right.

“The police are on the case. They’re all over Dr. Vail’s murder, which means a lot
of focus on Amber’s robbery homicide and Pringle’s suspicious death
.
” I sighed. “But I need to know who sent those text messages. I did not finish the
job. What if my failure means someone else is going to get hurt?”

“What are you going to do?” asked Todd.

“Maranda Pringle, Vail, and Tinsley reacted badly to those texts. What if Tinsley
is next? The PeerNotes messaging seems to focus on him.”

That fear broke goosebumps under my flannel shirt. I shivered. “I’m supposed to be
protecting Tinsley, and all I’ve done is suspect him. Mostly of being self-centered
and snarky.”

“Baby, you’re taking it too hard. This Tinsley sounds like his brain’s gone south.”

“Gone south or not, I made a promise to him.” I stared into my coffee cup and wondered
if they served coffee in jail. Line Creek used the county lockup. I could probably
get Tara to sneak me in some java with her Bible lessons.

“What’s that?” Todd pointed to an area I had sketched on the side, separate from the
body.

“I don’t know,” I said. “It keeps coming back to me. Just a dark image.”

“Looks like a cape.”

“A cape?” I squinted at the pad, then turned it upside down to view it from another
angle. “Dangit, if you’re not right.”

“I like it when you say that
.
” Todd grinned.

“I’ve gotta go.” I hopped from my seat, leaving the sketch pad and coffee, and began
hunting for my truck keys. “Aw hell, my truck must be part of a crime scene. And my
phone.”

“Should you be driving anyway? I’ll give you a ride to the police station.” Todd yawned.
“I called in to work. Said I’d been at the hospital all night. Which is mostly true.”

I laid a hand on his cheek. “You’re sweet, but you need sleep. You look like you’re
going to fall into your coffee. I’ll get someone else to take me.”

“Okay.” Todd kissed my hand, then yawned. “Good luck at the station.”

“Thanks, hon’
.
” I ruffled his hair. “You’re a good friend. Sweet dreams.”

“You keep my life exciting
.
”
H
e smiled. “When you move boxes for a living, you need some excitement. Especially
since I gave up poker.”

I gave him an extra hug for guilt. My kind of excitement would get a risk-taker like
Todd in trouble. Therefore, I felt it best not to let on that I’d be stopping at Peerless
before turning myself into the police. Tinsley had a cape. Either Tinsley was our
evil genius or he was in a shitload of trouble.

Whichever, I had to keep my eye on the man.