Traceless (24 page)

"Emily." He reached out to her, his voice low, soft.

Allowing him to touch her right now with any sort of tenderness would be her second mistake of the day.

"I... have to go."

She'd been wrong. He wasn't a coward. She was.

She'd wanted him to take her that way... brutally, almost violently, to punish her. If he'd done the worst possible to her she wouldn't have cared. She'd goaded him into being cruel.

Maybe, just maybe, if he'd really hurt her, she could have lived with what she'd done to him. Instead, he'd made her love him, and that was the most unbearable pain of all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

125 Carriage Avenue

10:00 a.m
.

He was cheating on her again.

Misty Briggs was certain of it. She couldn't prove it yet, but she sensed it. She'd watched him. His wife had rushed off to church this morning with their two sons, but he was still home. She knew he wasn't sick, not physically anyway. He was up to something.

And she intended to find out what.

Misty had tried to stop the momentum this time. She'd given plenty of warnings. But no one would listen to her. People were going to be hurt again... just like before. It had to stop.

His fancy car rolled out of the garage. A Jaguar. Silver. Leather interior. Cost nearly a hundred grand. Several times over what her efficient little Maxima had cost. But all that money wouldn't buy his way into heaven.

Men like Keith Turner went to hell.

She knew for sure because that was where her daddy had gone. Her mother had told her that every day of her life.
Misty
, she'd said,
don't ever trust a man
.
Especially not a handsome one
.

So she never had.

She tried to protect the people she cared about, but sometimes it seemed like she couldn't do enough.

After sliding the gearshift into Drive, she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and followed the fancy Jaguar. Maybe if she could learn who he was screwing around with on the side, she would finally understand that he was bad for her. Bad. Bad. Bad.

He'd sure been bad for Heather Baker.

Misty slowed as she passed the turn he'd taken in the quarry. Why would he go there? Didn't seem like the kind of place for a secret romantic rendezvous. But then, they could do it in that swanky car of his. She turned her car around the first chance she got and drove back to the gravel road that led deep into the limestone quarry. It was Sunday; the place-was closed. But that would be all the better. No one to disturb them.

She made the turn, took her time. She didn't want to run into him or whoever he'd come there to meet. Creeping along, she decided to take the fork in the road that would lead her around to the back side of the site, the delivery entrance. The road the dump trucks used. She hoped he hadn't made that same decision. Oh well, she'd take her chances. No one really ever thought anything about her skulking around. She was plain old Batty Briggs.

They just didn't know.

She was far brighter than even her principal suspected.

She knew how to get things done when no one else could.

A large metal garage flanked this side of the excavation site. Dump trucks, backhoes, and other equipment were lined up next to the garage. The perfect place for her to hide.

She nosed up to one of the massive trucks and shut off her engine. She powered the windows down and listened. The Jag was parked next to the office, windows up and the motor still running. She could see it clearly as she peered between the front end of one truck and the bed of another, but he'd have to be looking specifically for her to see her and then it wouldn't be easy to spot her position.

Anticipation started to hum inside her at the idea that he would get out soon. Though she didn't trust handsome men, she liked looking at them occasionally. Liked thinking about how it was when he came during sex.

She'd watched a few times. The sound of male grunting was curiously intriguing. Made her a little tingly. Keith grunted a lot when he had sex. He liked using his tongue, too. A lot of licking went on.

Her nipples hardened as she let the images play out in her head. He would start with his lover's toes. Licking and sucking, while his fingers did things to her calves and the backs of her knees. His lips formed nicely as he kissed.

But not as nice as Clint Austin's.

He had the best lips of any man Misty had ever seen.

She wondered how long it had been since Clint had had sex with a woman. She was sure he'd had plenty in prison, but none of it would have included a female, just lots of grunting and poking.

Clint Austin was strong. She'd wager it had taken at least four to hold him down.

She banished the image. She liked the kissing and licking much better. Hot, thick tongues and soft, full lips. Much, much better than the other.

Her thighs pressed together. Just thinking about it excited her. She placed a hand on her breast and squeezed. She had very nice breasts. She'd been told so many times. Justine had told her so. She would never lie to her. Misty wore her clothes loose to prevent men from staring at her breasts. They always stared if she wore form-fitting clothes.

She squeezed her breasts, felt a jolt deep inside her. Using both hands, she massaged, kneaded, enjoyed the feel of what she'd been blessed with. And why not? Better for her to enjoy them than some man.

Tighter, she squeezed, until her breath caught. Her bottom came up off the seat. She was really hot now.

The Jag hadn't moved. The motor still running.

She pushed one hand inside her shorts and touched her clitoris. "Mmmm." That felt nice. She knew how to touch a clitoris properly. With whisper-soft, feathery touches. Men were too stupid to know that. They jabbed it and pressed too hard. This, she made slow, gentle circles, was the right way.

Her legs stiffened... her hips started to rock ever so slightly in the seat. The need to close her eyes was almost overpowering. Couldn't do it. Had to watch him, make sure he didn't go anywhere. She came. Wave after wave of sweetness. She relaxed into the seat, licked her fingers, and sighed blissfully. Wonderful. And she hadn't needed a man at all.

The sound of wheels crushing gravel had her sitting up straighter. She frowned when Troy Baker's truck pulled up alongside the Jag. What was this? She didn't want to see Troy Baker. He was an idiot. She'd found the childish mess he'd made at Clint Austin's.

Anger blazed through her. Keith was supposed to be meeting a woman. Misty knew he was cheating. She needed to see it with her own eyes.

It was the only way to prove she was right.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

10:20 a.m.

Troy was already shit-kicking mad when he finally got to the meeting place. He was pretty damned drunk, too. But not so much so that he didn't have sense enough to make sure they didn't meet out in the open in broad daylight.

Clint Austin had gone too far.

And Emily Wallace was right on his fucking heels.

What the hell was she thinking, taking up for the sonof-abitch? Insinuating that he was innocent? She should've let him burn up in that damn house! Just showed how much she really cared about Heather's memory.

The bitch. Troy had no use for her anymore.
None
.

Keith climbed out of his Jag and glanced around. "What couldn't keep until after church?" He slammed the door and walked toward Troy. "This is the first time I've ever missed church with my boys. All I can say is, it better be good. I'm in enough trouble with Violet now."

Troy resisted the impulse to say,
Fuck Violet
. He had and Keith got the short end of the damned stick. Course that was

before she got her wish and married Keith. And, hell, Troy'd been drunk anyway. He'd gone pretty crazy after Heather's murder. It had taken him years to get his shit back together He'd been all right until that low-down parole board had gone and let that bastard Austin go free.

"What'd you tell her?" Troy knew for a fact Keith'd had to make up one humdinger of an excuse to get out of going to church with Violet. She had an obsession about appearances.

Keith leaned against Troy's truck. "That I puked half the night and was hungover."

Troy kicked a good-sized piece of gravel across the layer of smaller pieces that lined the ground everywhere you looked. The gravel skidded a couple of times before going over the edge into the excavation site. "You do pretty much look like shit," he said with a laugh. Violet would have a hissy if she knew Keith had left the house without shaving.

"Feel like it, too."

Keith pushed away from the truck and wandered toward the big-ass hole in the ground that provided limestone grave for a tricounty area.

"It's time to end this, buddy," Troy said grimly.

Keith pivoted to face him, eyes slitted suspiciously "What're you talking about?"

"Austin is just gonna keep messing with folks' heads and hanging around until people begin to think he's telling the truth, that maybe he didn't kill Heather. Hell, the newspapers are already hinting at that shit." Troy shook his head. "I can't let that happen. You heard what Violet said, the bastard's asking to see the files on the investigation? Why the hell do you suppose he would do that?"

"How should I know?" Keith flung his arms in the air, his frustration over the top. "I'm telling you, Troy, we need to let this thing go. Burning down his house... hell, man that's a felony... could've been a murder charge. Some body's taking some big-ass risks."

Troy scoffed. "Just not big enough or he'd be dead."

Keith got that suspicious look in his eyes again. "You said you had nothing to do with that."

"I didn't." Troy held up his hands and waved them to show they were clean. "Back off, man. He's the enemy, not me."

"Well, if not you, then who?"

"Who the fuck knows?" Troy was the one getting suspicious now. "You ain't getting like Emily Wallace, are you?"

"Emily's a good person, Troy," Keith countered, evading the question. "You know that. You and Larry were too hard on her last night."

"She's a traitor." Troy needed a beer. He wished he'd brought along more than the two six-packs he'd already consumed.

"I gotta ask you something, Troy?"

Troy swiveled his head to stare at the man who was supposed to be his best friend. "What?"

"You been binging on alcohol lately? Like before?"

"This meeting is not about me," Troy snapped. He didn't need nobody telling him how much he should drink. He got enough of that shit at home. Patricia was threatening divorce. Divorce! His whole life was falling apart and it was Austin's fault. "This is about making things right once and for all."

Keith shook his head. "I can't do this anymore, Troy. This thing with Austin is ruining all our lives. Don't you see that, man?"

"At least we have one to ruin," Troy snarled. "Heather's was taken away from her."

Keith stared at the ground a moment, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides. "I can't do it, Troy." He lifted his gaze. "I'm finished trying to make Austin pay. The law is satisfied with the time he served. We'll just have to get right with the way it is."

"Oh, I see the problem." Troy moved his head from side to side in disappointment. He stopped abruptly when the world started spinning. He blinked a couple of times, regained his balance.

"You okay, man?" Keith reached for him.

Troy snatched his arm away. "I know what your problem is. I thought about it all night. What Austin said got to you. That bullshit about asking my friends' alibis in front of all those people threw you for a loop, didn't it?"

Keith looked mad and maybe a little afraid. The anger Troy could understand... but the fear, what the hell did Keith have to be afraid of?

"What Austin says or thinks means nothing to me. This is about having some peace. We can't keep going like this,

Troy. We have families to think of."

Troy pounded his chest. "Heather was my family."

Keith took a big breath, let it out. "You're right. And I'm sorrier than you'll ever know. But I'm out, got it?"

Maybe it was the way the alcohol suddenly kicked in or the lack of sleep, but this just didn't feel right. "Are you saying you're not gonna help me finish this? After what he did?" Troy blinked some more, tried to keep Keith in focus.

Keith met Troy's gaze and that crazy fear was still there or, hell, maybe he was imagining it.

"That's what I'm saying."

Troy's anger detonated. "What're you hiding, Keith?" He stepped closer to the man who'd been his best friend, his closest confidant, since Heather's murder. He'd been right there, helped Troy through his trouble with women and drinking. He'd gotten Troy the job at the plant his daddy owned. He'd been the best friend a man could want. But something wasn't right and it wasn't the alcohol. "What'd you do that you're not telling me?"