Crossed Bones (32 page)

His fingers glided down my cheek, lifting my face. "My God, Sarah Booth. I've never wanted anything as much as you. You can't imagine what it's like, wanting you and trying to do the right thing by Connie."

I could imagine it, and it made me want to howl. It didn't matter what I felt. He was still a married man. He'd invoked his wife's name. He'd drawn the line we couldn't cross. And deep in my heart, I knew he was right. "I'm trying really hard," I said, the words rock-bottom honest.

"I know," he said slowly, his hand moving up to cradle my cheek. "We both are. We've both gone down a rocky path this time," he said, lowering his hand. It was a good thing he did. I wanted to step into his touch, to bask in the warmth that he generated in me.

"How is Connie?" I asked, the words sticking a little in my throat. I smiled to hide the pain.

"She's doing okay. We're in counseling. I guess I needed to hear some hard things about myself. In fairness to her, I haven't been the best husband. A woman can't come in at the bottom of the priority list all the time."

"No, she can't." I swallowed hard. My throat was parched, and there were words lodged in it. Words that would never get spoken.

"I never realized how it must seem to her. I was always on the job, always putting it first. I thought I was being a good provider. Seems like I was hiding from my feelings by working all the time. I've learned that's a form of addiction. Work to avoid feeling. Connie hasn't been happy, but neither have I." He shrugged, embarrassed and guilty.

I couldn't lie and tell him that I hoped he worked it out. I just couldn't say those words. "I think counseling's a good idea."

"Yeah, women do."

I put my hand on his badge. "It'll make you a better lawman, and a better man."

"I could use a little of both of those, especially the latter," he said. He went back to his desk and sat down, motioning me to take a seat. "We brought Emanuel in last night but we had to cut him loose. He had an alibi for the time Reveler was attacked."

"Who was his alibi?"

"Three men. All members of the Dominoes."

I could tell Coleman didn't believe the alibi. "What about the bones and the manacles?"

"He admitted it was the sign of the Dominoes. He feigned surprise that it was left at your place. We got a search warrant and went through his car and his home. There was no gun, no other bones, nothing to tie him to the act."

"Whoever did it was trying to frighten me. It worked, too. It made me realize how vulnerable I am when it comes to the things I love."

"That's where we're all vulnerable, Sarah Booth." He made no move toward me. "I'm vulnerable where you're concerned because I love you. That's why you have to be so careful. That's why you have to promise me that you'll drop this case."

The air leaked out of me. I didn't sigh or gasp or anything. Suddenly, my lungs were empty. "I can't," I said simply. I breathed. Coleman loved me, and it did neither of us any good. It was just one more open wound we both had to try to protect.

"This county's going to explode," Coleman said. His voice was gentle. "Sarah Booth, you've put yourself in a position to be hurt by both factions. Please walk away from this."

"I can't." If I were a true Daddy's Girl, I would invoke the name of wife, pointing out that we both had things we just couldn't back away from. Coleman had his obligations and I had mine. But I wasn't a DG and Coleman wasn't an adversary. He was the man, under different circumstances, I might have married.

"Do you still believe Scott is guilty?" I asked him.

"It doesn't matter what I believe. What I can prove is what matters to the law."

I studied Coleman. I couldn't be certain what he really thought about Scott, or what he knew about the two of us, but he wasn't showing the edge of certainty about Scott's guilt that had been there earlier in the case.

"If it wasn't Scott, who else would want Ivory dead?" I asked.

"Ivory was a symbol to a lot of people. Symbols are always an easy target. His death serves a number of purposes, if you put it in a political perspective."

I nodded. "Where was Emanuel the night his father died?"

Coleman's hands were flat on the desk. He had large hands, the nails clean and neat, and they could be so gentle. But if I touched the palms, I knew I would feel the calluses that came from physical labor. While his job didn't require a lot of manual labor, Coleman liked hard work. When he didn't answer my question, I looked up at him.

"Emanuel was at the blues club until about midnight. He had an argument with his father. He went back to the club around four. He found his father's body."

"And you don't find that suspicious?"

"I do. But the shank and the money were found on Scott."

"Easily planted evidence."

"Scott had motive, means, and opportunity."

"So did Emanuel. And Nandy Shanahan."

There was a brisk tap on Coleman's door and he called out for Bo-Peep to come in.

"We have a 10-52 out on
Bilbo Lane
," she said, trying hard not to let me hear.

Coleman stood up abruptly. "I have to go."

I stood up, too.
Bilbo Lane
could only mean Scott Hampton. Coleman started out the back door and I was on his heels. He stopped so suddenly I slammed into his back, the butt of his gun jabbing my hipbone.

"Ouch!"

"You're not going," he said.

"What's a 10-52?"

"Assault and battery."

I'd mentioned Nandy's name, and she'd appeared, for it could be no one else. "Wild horses couldn't keep me away."

Coleman's grin let me know I'd responded exactly as he'd expected. "Hop in," he said as he strode to the patrol car.

26

We turned down Scott's drive and into a swirl of
flashing red lights. The muggy August air seemed to hold the light in a long, red scream. Something tragic had happened.

Two paramedic units were there, and men in white shirts bustled about the yard. They lifted a stretcher on Scott's porch and ran toward the open back doors of the closest ambulance. I couldn't stop myself from rushing forward. Coleman had told me no additional details on the drive over.

The sight of Nandy's bloody face, surrounded by sandbags to stabilize her neck, stopped me in my tracks. My gaze locked on the place in her eyebrow where the blue sapphire record stud had been. The flesh was split; the ring torn out. My stomach tightened and flipped.

Nandy's eyes were closed, but she opened them and saw me. One thin hand motioned me toward her. I had no choice. I stepped close.

"You can have him," she whispered.
"If
he ever gets out of prison." Her smile was that of the victor.

The paramedics loaded her into the ambulance, slammed the door, and drove away. I couldn't move. Not even a foot. Not even when I saw Scott on the porch, his torso and hands covered in blood. Coleman was talking to him. He was shaking his head, pointing to the porch floor. Finally, I forced my right leg to move, then the left. I walked to the porch.

"I heard something out here and when I came out, I found her, lying there." The place Scott indicated showed a smudged bloodstain. "I called 9-1-1, then I called your office."

"You didn't hit her?" Coleman was looking pointedly at Scott's hands, which were bloody.

Scott bowed up. Authority figures still rankled him. "I didn't hit her," he snapped. "I'm not an idiot, and I'm not an asshole who beats on women."

"Did you touch her?" Coleman asked with more patience than I expected.

Scott looked down at his hands and realized there had to be some explanation. "I couldn't tell how badly she was hurt. I was afraid she'd bleed to death, so I touched her. I tried to find where she was bleeding. But I never hit her." His tone had corrected itself, and he sounded like the Scott I'd come to know.

"How'd she get in that condition?" Coleman asked.

Instead of getting angry, Scott shook his head. It was an effort I appreciated. "I know how it looks, but that's how I found her. I don't know how she got here or what happened. Could you tell how badly she was hurt?"

"I'll check at the hospital and let you know," Coleman said.

My face must have registered my surprise. Coleman wasn't arresting Scott. I was positive Nandy had accused him of beating her, but Coleman wasn't buying in to it.

Scott's face opened in relief. "That's it?"

"You're done," Coleman said.

Scott ran down the steps and scooped me into a hug. "Am I glad to see you," he said, squeezing me. "When I saw Nandy all bloody like that on the porch, I almost flipped out." He put his face in my neck, nuzzling into my hair. My arms went around him, holding him. My gaze went up the porch to Coleman, who stared back at me. If I'd ever doubted my power to hurt him, I didn't any longer. Neither did I doubt how unintentionally cruel life could be. I didn't want to hurt him, and I finally understood, completely, that his choices with Connie were unconnected to me, no matter how gravely they affected me. Wisdom is a bitter, bitter draught.

"I'll give you a call and let you know the results at the hospital," Coleman said to Scott as he walked past us, got in his car, and drove away. He didn't offer me a ride back to town. He followed the second ambulance out.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked, standing tall and holding me at arm's length. He examined my face, reading God-only-knows-what thoughts. I couldn't hide that I was upset.

"I'm shocked. What happened?"

He led me into the cottage and closed the door behind us. When I was on the sofa, iced tea in my hand, and he was beside me, he put his arm around me and held me close against him. "I've never felt I could tell another person that I was scared, but I can tell you, Sarah Booth. You won't judge me."

"How can I? I'm scared, too." It was so simple with Scott. For a man who put up a barricade of solitude, once it was breached, he was a candidate for
Oprah.
He had feelings, and he knew more about them than I did mine. Perhaps that was why he wrote such powerful music. "Tell me what happened."

He kissed the top of my head. "I heard something on the porch. I'd been thinking about you. Daydreaming, I guess you'd say." He gave me a wicked look that tingled the Delaney womb.

"Go on," I urged. I needed to hear the facts before we started in on the fantasies.

"I thought it might be you, coming to visit, so I opened the door, and there was this bloody thing lying on the porch. For just one terrible moment, I thought someone had hurt
you.
Then I realized it was Nandy. I knelt down and tried to see where she was hurt. She was moaning and she grabbed my shirt, pulling me down."

I could see it all clearly. Nandy making sure her blood got on Scott. I had no doubt she'd set the entire thing up just to pin it on him.

"Her face was bleeding where the ring had been in her eyebrow. It seemed all of the blood was coming from there. At least I didn't see any on her shorts or legs. Once I figured she hadn't severed an artery, I didn't look much beyond that. I tried to make her talk, but she wouldn't. She just moaned. When she grabbed me she was pretty strong, so I risked leaving her and called the paramedics and the sheriff."

"She's going to try and set you up for the beating." Judging from his nonreaction, Scott had already anticipated this.

Scott put a hand on my face. "It doesn't seem possible that I'm saying this, but I don't think the sheriff will believe her." He sought something in my expression. He sensed there was something between me and Coleman.

"Coleman won't believe her." He might
want
to believe Nandy, but he was a man who believed only evidence. At first glance, the evidence supported the theory that Nandy was trying to set Scott up. "No matter what Coleman believes, we need as much supporting evidence as possible. Where's Nandy's car? She had to drive herself here. There's bound to be blood in it."

"I hadn't thought of that. There's a bunch of trails that go back to the creek. I'll bet she parked it there and walked here."

"Let's go."

"Now?" he asked.

I nodded. "No time like the present. I want to find that car before anyone can tamper with it."

Working on the theory that Nandy would park as close as possible while still hiding the car, we went down the first trail that led back to the creek. We'd gone only thirty yards into the trees when I saw the BMW convertible. The top was up. I told Scott not to touch it, but we walked around it. There was a bloodstain on the headrest and one on the visor above the passenger's door. My best guess was that Nandy had parked the car and then ripped the ring out.

"Will this help?" Scott asked.

"I think it will clinch it if we have to go to court," I said. "Let's call Coleman and let him know."

Walking back to the cottage, I reached out and took Scott's hand. He'd washed the blood off, and the long, elegant fingers stretched out as I examined it. I looked at the other hand. "We should let Coleman see your hands. You haven't hit anyone." I looked up at Scott. "The hands I want to see belong to Robert McBruce. If anyone hit her, and that's a big if, I'll bet it was him."