Читать книгу High School Reunion - Mallory Kane - Страница 8

Cade Dupree didn’t know what it was about Laurel Gillespie, but he was having a devil of a time taking his eyes off her. If it hadn’t been for one glaring incident back in high school, he wouldn’t even have remembered her. She’d been a year behind him and two years behind his brother. His memory of her was of braces and glasses and wildly curly red hair.

The reason he remembered that much was because of the part his brother James had played in embarrassing her in front of the whole school.

She’d changed. Now her dark red hair was pulled back into a loose braid, but it still wasn’t totally tamed. Wisps and waves floated around her face. Unobscured by braces and glasses, her delicate features were lovely.

Yep. She’d changed a lot.

“Cade, I want to get to the hospital and check on Misty. She’s going to be scared to death when she realizes where she is.”

Cade took off his baseball cap, folded the brim and stuck it into his back pocket. “Five seconds ago I’d have said go ahead, but you just inserted yourself into the middle of this. You want to explain why this is your fault?” He leaned against the door facing and crossed his arms.

To his surprise, her face turned pink.

“I got an invitation to our ten-year high school reunion, but I hated high school. I never intended to come back to town. But Misty begged me to come. I told her I’d think about it.”

Cade blew out an impatient breath.

“This is relevant, Chief Dupree. I was going to wait a day or two and call her back with an excuse. In the meantime, I pulled out snapshots from high school—mostly of graduation night. I wanted to review faces and names.” She turned back toward him and reached into her jacket pocket.

Instinctively, he tensed. It was a ridiculous reaction, totally at odds with her words and body language.

“I found something.”

He flexed his fingers as she pulled out a small stack of snapshots. She held them out.

He took them and shuffled through them. “Yeah? What?”

“Something that would never happen in a million years.”

He frowned at her but she just leveled a gaze at him. He stepped over to a small desk and turned on a lamp. He scrutinized the photos under the bright light. They were mostly snapshots of Laurel and Misty.

The two girls wore white dresses and held their caps and gowns. Both were grinning from ear to ear. Cade studied the awkward high-school Laurel. She wore a dress that hung on her like a sack. Her delicate bone structure and pretty features were not quite obscured by those ugly glasses and braces.

If he or any other guy had bothered to really look at her, they’d have seen what he saw now. Little skinny carrottop Laurel had been destined to be a knockout.

“Put the photos side by side.”

“You could just tell me, you know.” He laid them out like a game of solitaire, then leaned over to study them more closely.

“Back then, I didn’t notice anything odd in the photos, but looking at them now, with seven years of experience in criminology under my belt, what I see doesn’t add up.”

“Who are these people?” He pointed. “I recognize Misty and you. Nice braces.”

She sniffed.

“Who’s that standing behind you two?”

She stepped closer and Cade got a whiff of the scent of gardenias floating around her.

“That’s Wendell Vance.”

“Vance? Where do I know that name?”

“He died that night.”

A vague memory surfaced. “He hanged himself.”

Her nod stirred the air near his cheek. He picked up one of the photos and looked at it more closely under the light.

“Notice anything odd?”

“No. I barely remember him.”

“Look at his face.”

“Okay. His face is red. Embarrassed?”

“You don’t remember what happened that night? What the CeeGees did?”

He shook his head. He’d been at Ole Miss when Laurel’s class graduated. “The CeeGees?”

“The Cool Girls. You know, Debra Evans, Kathy Hodges, Mary Sue Nelson and Sheryl Posey. Their mission in life was to prey on shy girls and geeky boys.”

The girls who’d played the prank on her.

“They taped a sign to his back during graduation that said Wendell Vance has a pencil in his pants.”

“Ouch.” He suppressed a grin—almost.

“It’s not funny.” Her hazel eyes sparked.

“Yeah. It is.”

She propped her fists on her hips. “They humiliated him in front of his parents, his teachers, his classmates.”

He nodded. “I remember Dad talking about it. He thought that was the reason Wendell killed himself.”

“So did everybody. But look here.” Laurel tapped the snapshot with a trimmed manicured nail.

He squinted. “A girl’s hand on his shoulder. So?”

“Not just any girl’s hand. That’s—”

“Cade!”

Laurel jumped. Cade looked toward the door. Oh, damn. It was Debra, Fred Evans’s daughter.

“Dad told me something happened to Misty. What is it? Can I do anything to help?” Her eyes darted around the room and came to rest on the blood in front of the couch.

“Oh, my God!” She turned white as a sheet, then scurried into the room, a plump hand covering her mouth. “I think I may throw up.”

Laurel eyed her. Interesting that she had rushed toward the bloodstain as she threatened to throw up. But then Debra had always been a bit of a drama queen. Based on how she was acting, Laurel would wager that the former CeeGee knew exactly what she would find in Misty’s living room. The only thing that wasn’t fake was her pallor.

In two long strides, Cade reached Debra’s side. “Deb, your dad’s a police officer. You know better than to cross crime-scene tape.”

“But—why would anyone hurt Misty? Was it a burglary?” She turned and spotted Laurel. “Who—?”

Laurel saw the blank look on Debra’s face. She’d expected it—she looked a lot different without braces and thick glasses. Still, it sent that ridiculous knee-jerk reaction through her—disappointment that someone who’d known her didn’t recognize her. She thought she’d left those high-school insecurities far behind.

“I’m Laurel Gillespie, Debra.”

“Laurel? Oh, Laurel Gillespie. So you’re not married yet? I guess you’re here for the reunion?”

Laurel nodded.

Debra turned to Cade. “Why does she get to be here?”

Cade stepped closer. “Because she’s an FBI special agent.”

Debra’s face drained of color again. “FBI? Cade, oh, my God. Did you call in the FBI?”

Cade put his hand on the small of Debra’s back and guided her toward the door. She smiled up at him and put her arm around his waist.

Laurel clamped her jaw. This wasn’t high school. So why was she letting these small-town divas get to her?

Just as Cade guided Debra into the foyer, she glanced back at Laurel. For a microsecond her eyes narrowed and dropped to the photographs in Laurel’s hand. Then she looked her straight in the eye. Laurel saw something in her gaze—something she couldn’t put her finger on.

She was sure of one thing, though. Debra wasn’t as shocked and faint as she pretended to be.

Cade came back in, shaking his head. “There are still a few folks outside, watching the house like vultures. This is the biggest crime Dusty Springs has seen since old man Rabb shot his son-in-law in the butt.”

He walked over to her. “You were telling me why this is all your fault.”

“We were talking about what the CeeGees did to Wendell on graduation night.”

“You think this is all about a silly high-school clique from ten years ago? What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that they didn’t care who they hurt. They ridiculed Wendell Vance on the most important night of his life. When he walked across that stage to accept the Science Medal—the school’s most prestigious award, nobody applauded. Everybody laughed. It was horrible.” She felt tears prick her eyes. “Then the next morning—”

“It was discovered that he’d hanged himself down by the creek using the old rope swing. What does that have to do with this?”

“It’s in the photo. The hand on Wendell’s shoulder. Look really close.”

He held the photos directly under the lamp. “Okay. I see the hand. Could we stop playing twenty questions?”

“That hand belongs to one of the CeeGees.”

“How do you know?”

“See the ring. Kathy had them made special for herself and the other girls.”

“I still don’t get it. So she’s making a big deal over Wendell. So what?”

She spread her hands. “If a CeeGee was flirting with a guy like Wendell, then it had to be because they weren’t through with him. They were planning something else that night.”

“You really resent them, don’t you?”

“This is not about me. It’s about what happened to Wendell.”

“What? What happened to Wendell? Besides the fact that he was obviously a troubled kid. I don’t get your point. You said what you saw in the photo didn’t add up.”

Laurel blew out a frustrated breath. “That’s right. I can’t shake the feeling that this photo is telling us something important. Think about it. Wendell got the Science Medal. It carried a ten-thousand-dollar scholarship with it. I remember wishing I could win it, but by the beginning of our senior year it was obvious that it was a two-man race—Wendell Vance and Ralph Langston.”

“Ten grand. I didn’t realize that.”

She nodded. “Wendell had been accepted at Vanderbilt. With all that ahead of him, why would he kill himself?”

“Maybe he couldn’t take the humiliation of what they did to him.”

“That’s not enough.”

“Kids kill themselves because they get turned down for a date. It’s sad but true.”

Laurel heard the doubt in his voice. Her frustration grew. She knew her theory was shaky.

Shaky? It was barely more than a niggle of intuition fed by a couple of odd occurrences. Cade was about two seconds away from dismissing her as a conspiracy theorist.

“The more I looked at this photo, the more sure I was that this went beyond a kid hanging himself because somebody pulled a prank on him. I had to come back here and at least see if I could unearth anything about his death.”

Cade pushed his fingers through his hair, and then rubbed the back of his neck. “Wow. As theories go, yours is pretty thin.”

“I know. That’s why I called and asked Misty to pull out her photos. But I screwed up. I should have made sure she was alone before I started talking.” She spread her hands. “She was in the middle of a Reunion Planning Committee meeting. Everybody in the room overheard her talking about Wendell and the graduation night photos. I tried to stop the conversation once I realized she had company, but it was too late.”

Cade looked at his watch. “I don’t get what you’re driving at.”

“You know who’s on the Reunion Planning Committee?”

“Sure. Ann Noble from the Mayor’s office, Ralph Langston, Kathy Adler, Debra Honeycutt and—” he paused for an instant “—and Mary Sue Nelson.”

“Right. Three of the CeeGees. It was one of them who attacked Misty.”

“How do you figure?”

Laurel looked at Cade’s solemn face. Would he believe her? He had to. Without his help she didn’t have a prayer of uncovering the truth.

“Those three snapshots are the only ones I had that caught Wendell in them. And none of them show the CeeGee’s face. I was hoping Misty had a shot that revealed more.”

Cade’s gaze sharpened. “You’re thinking Misty’s attacker was after her photos.”

Laurel steeled herself against Cade’s possible ridicule. “Yes. I think the owner of that hand was planning a bigger humiliation for Wendell than a rude sign on his back.” She tapped the photo with her fingernail. “A CeeGee would never go near a geek like Wendell. I’m afraid Wendell didn’t commit suicide. I think when we find out whose hand that is, we’ll find Wendell’s murderer.”

LAUREL’S WORDS stunned Cade. He was still chewing on her theory that Wendell Vance might have been murdered when they got to Three Springs Hospital. He understood what Laurel was getting at, but it was a damn big stretch to go from a flirtation captured by a photo to homicide.

Misty Waller was in an emergency room cubicle. Her pretty, round face was almost as pale as the bandage on her head. The skin around her closed eyes was a faint purple. She was going to end up with a couple of shiners.

“I’m so sorry,” Laurel said, squeezing Misty’s hand. “This is my fault.”

Cade leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. Laurel had asked him to let her talk to Misty first. He didn’t like it, but he couldn’t think of a good reason to say no. Misty might tell her more than she’d tell him.

“Don’t be silly. You couldn’t know someone would break into my—” Misty’s voice cracked and she lifted a trembling hand to touch the bandage on her head. She turned her pale blue eyes toward Cade. “I can’t stay here, Cade. Make them let me go home. My cat—my house—”

Cade caught Laurel’s eye. Misty’s voice was too high. She was on the verge of hysteria.

“We’ll get you home just as soon as the doctors tell us we can,” Laurel said, patting Misty’s arm. “But right now, I need to know what happened. Everything you can remember.”

Misty closed her eyes and licked her lips. “I don’t remember anything. Can you call the doctor now? I have to get home.”

“He’ll be here in a few minutes,” Laurel said gently. “Did the nurse give you something?”

Without opening her eyes, Misty nodded. “She said it would calm me down but it’s not working.”

Laurel met Cade’s gaze. “It will. Just give it time. You had a shock. What you were doing this afternoon?”

“While I waited to hear from you, I finished transcribing a stack of depositions for the law firm I work for. Then I turned up the sound on the TV and watched the latest episode of Secret Lives.”

Cade stepped closer. “You turned up the sound? When did you turn it back down?”

Misty frowned up at him. “I didn’t. At least I don’t think I did.”

If Misty hadn’t turned the sound down, that explained why she didn’t hear the attacker. But why was the sound off when Laurel got there? He made a brief note to double-check the prints on the TV.

“So watching Secret Lives is the last thing you remember? What about your high-school pictures? Did you find them?” Laurel asked.

“Yes.” Misty smiled wanly. “I was looking at them this morning. I can’t believe what we looked like. Oh, jiminy, Laurel. We were so skinny.”

Laurel laughed softly. “And we were always dieting. And then running out at midnight for ice cream.”

Misty nodded and winced.

Enough reminiscing. Cade stepped forward, but Laurel held up a hand.

He clenched his jaw. Did she think he was going to sit back and let her run this case? She might be an FBI agent, but she couldn’t do anything unless he officially asked for the Bureau’s help.

His granddad had been chief of police in Dusty Springs before his dad. And although everyone had expected Cade’s brother James to take over the job, now it was his. He was the law in town and he knew how to handle a crime. He didn’t need a big-city FBI agent to do his job for him.

The two women laughed. One laugh was high and tinkly, like broken glass. The other, Laurel’s, was low, throaty, sexy. A thrill of pure lust streaked through him, surprising him.

Down boy. This wasn’t the time or the place. He shifted his weight and tried to keep his expression neutral. Even if it had been a long time since he’d been so strongly and immediately attracted to a woman.

He concentrated on Misty. At least Laurel had managed to calm her down.

That was her intent, he realized suddenly. Still—two minutes. No more. Then he was going to step in and ask the important questions.

“Did you find any pictures from graduation night?” Laurel asked.

“I found some in one of the photo boxes. I haven’t had a chance to look at them, though.”

“Where’s the box?”

“I put it back.”

Laurel smiled. “That’s right. You always put everything back. I never did. Misty, remember when I called the other day and you told me you were in a meeting?”

Cade’s irritation fizzled and his opinion of her skills raised a notch. She’d gone from caring friend to FBI agent inside of a minute, and he’d barely noticed the transition. He was certain Misty hadn’t.

“Sure.” Misty’s drooping eyes opened. “A Reunion Committee Meeting at my house.”

“Who all was there?” Cade broke in. He knew who was on the committee, but not who had attended that meeting.

Misty squinted at him. “Kathy of course. And her minions.” She cut her eyes over to Laurel, who laughed softly.

“Debra and Mary Sue. And Sheryl,” Laurel supplied.

“Not Sheryl. I haven’t seen her in years.”

“Who else?” Cade asked.

She closed her eyes again. “Ann Noble. And Ralph Langston. He’s funding the whole shebang.”

The curtain around the emergency room cubicle fluttered and a nurse stuck her head in. “Ms. Waller, Dr. Cook wants a CT scan of your head, just to be sure you’re okay.” She stepped over to the gurney and patted one of the pillows. “And he wants you to stay overnight, so we can watch you.”

Misty’s calm evaporated and her eyes grew wide and panicky. “No, I can’t stay here. Please. Where’s the doctor—”

“I’ll stay with you,” Laurel said. “Don’t worry.”

“The technician will be here in a few minutes to take you to the lab,” the nurse said, then left.

“Oh, Laurel, thank you. But I’m more worried about Harriet. She’ll be so scared in that house alone.”

“Harriet?”

“Harriet Potter. My kitten. She was Harry until I realized she was a girl.”

“Don’t worry,” Laurel said. “I’ll take care of her.” As she leaned over and kissed Misty on the forehead, Cade’s gaze zeroed in on her curvy backside. Her jacket rode up and he saw the tip of the leather paddle holster at the small of her back.

Something went haywire inside him at the sight of her weapon. He suddenly had to hold his breath and avert his gaze. He shifted his stance to try and hide an embarrassing truth. The sight of Laurel’s Glock holstered at the small of her back was a huge turn-on. Which surprised the hell out of him. He’d never thought of a woman with a gun as sexy before. In fact, he’d always thought those women-in-black-kicking-butt TV shows were a little silly. Maybe he’d have to give them another chance.

Laurel patted Misty’s hair and straightened. Misty gave her a tiny smile and her eyes grew damp at the corners. “Thank you. It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too.”

Cade felt like a fifth wheel. He wasn’t much for tearful reunions or sappy reminiscences. He was a lot more comfortable behind his badge.

He cleared his throat. “We’d better go, Agent Gillespie.” Laurel’s head snapped up and her hazel eyes sparked.

She got his message.

“I’ll be back first thing in the morning,” she said to Misty. “I’m sure by then they’ll be ready to let you go home.”

She stood just as Mary Sue Nelson breezed in, carrying a funeral-size vase of flowers.

“Misty, darling! What in the world happened? Did you fall down the steps or something?”

“Hi, Mary Sue. Somebody attacked me,” Misty said groggily.

Mary Sue looked at her quizzically before she turned toward Cade.

“Hello, Cade. What are you doing here? Was she really attacked? Who could have done that?” She giggled.

Cade had to make himself relax his jaw. “Hi, Mary Sue.” He could see it now. The scene at Misty’s house was nothing. By the time Misty was admitted there would be a constant stream of concerned neighbors parading in and out of her hospital room. It was the small-town way.

“I tell you what,” he said. “They’re coming to get Misty for a CT scan in a couple of minutes. Why don’t we all get out of here and let her rest for a while?”

“Cade Dupree, you may be police chief, but my mom babysat you when you were in diapers. So watch who you’re giving orders to.” Mary Sue batted her eyelashes at him and laid her fingers on his arm.

Laurel met his gaze, her eyes sparkling dangerously.

Uh oh.

“Here, Mary Sue,” Laurel said. “Let me put that glorious bouquet over here. Where in the world did you get that at this time of night? Now you can have both hands free to talk to Cade.” She took the vase from Mary Sue’s hands. “There. I could hardly see you behind all the flowers.”

“Do I know you?”

“I’m Laurel Gillespie.”

Mary Sue didn’t even acknowledge her. She turned back to Cade. “Who do you think attacked Misty? Was it a gang?”

The nurse returned with an aide who unlocked the gurney’s wheels and began to maneuver it toward the door.

“You should all go home now. Once they’ve done her CT scan, they’ll put her in a room overnight.” She eyed each one of them in turn. “Visiting hours start at 9:00 a.m.”

Mary Sue waggled her fingers at Misty, then turned to Cade. “My husband’s out of town. I’m not sure it’s safe for me to be home alone.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. If you’re worried, you could go across the street to your mother’s,” Cade replied.

He felt Laurel’s eyes boring into his back and he knew he was in for it. Sure enough, as soon as Mary Sue left, Laurel placed her hand on his arm.

“Why Mister Dupree,” she drawled. “Are you certain it’s safe for me out there alone?”

He should have been irritated, should have shrugged off her hand as soon as she touched him. But her fingers on his forearm felt so different from Mary Sue’s. Mary Sue’s touch had been clingy, needy. Laurel’s was firm and enticing.

He cleared his throat and pulled his arm away. “Knock it off, Special Agent Gillespie.”

“I got your point the first time,” she whispered. “This isn’t old home-week. I’m a professional, Chief Dupree. I know we’re investigating a crime.”

“We?” No way. She was a witness, but that was all. He held the curtain for her to exit the cubicle ahead of him and didn’t say anything more until they reached the parking lot.

Laurel turned to him as they approached his pickup. “Tell me about Ralph Langston. How is he funding the whole reunion?”

“He moved back here about a year ago,” Cade said. “He bought all that land down by the creek, and broke ground for a state-of-the-art convention complex.”

“So Ralph made it big?”

“Yes, he owns the fifth largest web-hosting company on the Internet. And he developed Webelot, the Web page building software.”

“Wow.”

“He’s hosting the reunion at the Visitor Center, and he’s footing the bill.”

“Visitor Center?”

“Right. On the rise above the creek bank, where the old high school burned.”

She looked at him, her expression thoughtful. “I want to go down there.”

“What for? You’ll see it tomorrow night. That’s where the party’s going to be.”

“Not the Visitor Center. The creek bank. Where Wendell died.”

He opened the passenger door of his pickup, but as she started to get in, he stopped her with a touch on her elbow. “This is not your case. It’s mine. You’re on vacation. Remember?”

Laurel stiffened and lifted her chin until her nose was only a few inches from his. “I found Misty. I know what her attacker was looking for. I just gave you a roomful of suspects. Of course it’s my case, too.”

“You’re a witness. Nothing more.”

“You could request the help of the FBI.”

“I don’t think so. All we have here is a home invasion and assault. Nothing the FBI deals with.”

She closed the distance between them by an inch. “What we have here is an unsolved mystery. I work in the Unsolved Mysteries Division of the FBI.”

“There is absolutely no evidence that Wendell Vance’s death was anything more than a suicide.”

“Yes, there is—somewhere. Whoever attacked Misty was after her pictures. That’s obvious. They were trying to destroy evidence. But I intend to find it first.” Her chin went a bit higher, and he could feel her warm breath on his lips.

His whole body went on red alert. Danger!

Gardenias. Warm, sweet breath. A cute little nose and now that he was close enough to see them—freckles.

His thighs tightened. Heat spread through his groin and radiated outward. In a few seconds he was going to have a huge hard-on. What the hell kind of Police Chief got hot and bothered by a witness?

A sarcastic voice in his head answered him. A horny one.

“Nope. I’m involved,” Laurel continued. “You said it yourself, Dupree. I inserted myself into this case.”

“Yeah,” he heard the strain in his voice. “You sure did.” He took a step backward, out of harm’s way—for the moment. He knew she was right. He was going to have to work with her. But this crazy physical attraction had to stop.

It must be because he hadn’t had sex in such a long time. Man, he didn’t even want to think about how long it had been.

His body chose that instant to remind him just how deprived it was feeling. He took another step backward and pretended he couldn’t still smell gardenias or see her freckles.

When she sat, her skirt rode up to her thighs. Despite his irrational anger, his mouth went dry and his libido spiraled out of control. He slammed the door with a vengeance it didn’t deserve and stalked around to the driver’s side.

When he got in, Laurel grabbed his arm. “Cade, I just remembered something.”

He wished she’d quit touching him, and while she was at it, quit wafting that gardenia perfume his way. Everything about her was playing havoc with his good sense. He looked down at her hand then up at her. “Yeah?”

“Ralph Langston got the ten-thousand-dollar scholarship after Wendell died.”