Chapter Nineteen
Beau helped Cassidy into a long white-cotton nightgown. She was battered and bruised, cut and scraped, but she was okay. He should have insisted she sleep in the guest room, where she could get a good night’s rest, but he wanted to be able to check on her, make sure no problems came up. And after what had happened, he couldn’t seem to let her out of his sight.
The doctor had given her a couple of pain pills. Beau fixed her a glass of warm milk. After she drank it, she climbed into his bed, he tucked her in, and she drifted into a quiet sleep. For a while he just stood there watching her, grateful the accident hadn’t been worse.
Finally he undressed, eased onto the mattress beside her, and eventually fell asleep.
He wasn’t sure what time he started to dream. The nightmare, hazy at first, turned sharply vivid, an endless stream of images, all incredibly real. Sarah, standing beside a pond in the moonlight in a sheer white nightgown, brilliant rays shimmering on her long, silver-blond hair. She was so beautiful and he was so happy to see her.
The dream suddenly shifted and Sarah was in the city, standing in the middle of the street. A car was speeding toward her. He heard the squeal of brakes, the sound of shattering glass and the whine of twisting metal.
Images flashed, colors and sounds in his head, and Sarah was lying in the hospital. She was dying and it was no longer a dream—it was a memory. A terrible, aching memory of pain and suffering and death.
Then the dream changed again, and it wasn’t Sarah in the hospital bed, it was Cassidy. And she wasn’t sickly, she was vibrantly beautiful, with her big green eyes and soft dark curls. But she was dying, just like Sarah. Fresh pain sliced through him, an agony so deep he could feel it in every cell in his body. Pain and loss that lived eternally inside him and never went away.
Panic pumped adrenaline through his blood. Silently he screamed out to her, but it wasn’t Sarah’s name on his lips. It was Cassidy’s.
His eyes shot open. Beau scrubbed a shaky hand over his face. He was covered in perspiration, the dream still clear in his head. The accident had triggered the nightmare, the phone call to Cassidy, the fear in her voice, the utter horror he’d felt when he’d heard the screech of tires, the sound of breaking glass and grinding metal. He’d imagined the worst, imagined her body crushed beneath the weight of an oncoming car.
Somehow he’d managed to hold himself together enough to call the police as he’d driven like a madman toward her office. He’d found her alive, injured but okay.
For the first time, he realized how much he cared for her. How much she meant to him. He was in deeper with Cassidy than he’d been with any woman since Sarah.
In way too deep, and he couldn’t let it continue. If something happened to Cassidy, he couldn’t handle it. He never wanted to go through that kind of pain again.
It was still dark outside when Beau eased out of bed and padded naked into the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water and drained the glass, felt a little better. He could handle this. He just needed to keep her at a distance, make sure he didn’t get in any deeper.
True, they were good together. He appreciated her sharp mind and enjoyed her company, and they were fantastic together in bed. But eventually the sexual attraction would fade. She was a smart woman. She’d be prepared for that, be able to handle it when the time came for things to end.
His chest clamped down at the thought of her leaving. He took a deep drink of water and forced himself to relax. It wasn’t over between them yet. He needed Cassidy’s help to prove his innocence. He’d just have to be a little more careful, keep his feelings in check.
He thought of the beautiful woman asleep in his bed and found himself moving in that direction. It would all work out, he told himself.
He and Cassidy could enjoy each other for as long as it lasted. All he had to do was make sure he didn’t fall in love.
* * *
Her mind felt fuzzy and something was ringing in her head. Cassidy roused herself, managed to wake up enough to realize the pain pills had worn off and Beau’s cell phone was ringing.
She glanced around. Beau’s bedroom was as sleekly contemporary as the rest of the house, with a sitting area in front of a modern fireplace off to one side. The furniture was dark wood, not light like most of the house. The ultramodern bathroom was amazing.
Beau fumbled with the phone, managed to grab it off the nightstand as he swung his long legs to the side of the bed. “Reese.”
With his back to her, she admired the long muscles moving beneath his smooth skin, his broad shoulders and tight round behind. A tug of desire pulled low in her belly.
She focused on Beau’s conversation, couldn’t tell who was on the other end of the line, but Beau was frowning.
“Cassidy’s with me. Eleven o’clock will work. We’ll see you there.” He hung up the phone, set it back down on the nightstand.
“Who was it?” she asked.
“Tom Briscoe. Chief Warren wants to see me. I told Tom we’d drive out. We’re meeting them at eleven.”
Cassidy sat up in bed, pulling the sheet up to cover herself. Beau’s gaze went to her breasts and her face went warm. She tried not to think of sex for the second time that morning.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Headache’s gone. I’m a little sore but I’m okay. Did Briscoe say what he wanted?”
“No. I guess we’ll find out when we get there.” He reached out and grabbed his jeans, pulled them on. “There’s a couple more pain pills in that bottle the doctor gave you. You want me to get them?”
She shook her head. “They make me sleepy and I really don’t need them. I’m feeling much better today.”
She dropped the sheet, grabbed her robe off the chair, and slipped it on, felt Beau’s gaze following her every move. Need swelled again. She had never met a man who could make her want him with a single glance.
“I need a shower,” she said, dragging her gaze away from all the glorious muscles in his chest. “I wish I’d had time to go by my house and get some fresh clothes. And I need to have my car towed to the garage.”
“I’ll have Marty take care of your car. And there’s a washer and dryer in the mudroom if you need to wash your clothes. Or we can send the stuff out to the dry cleaners. Mrs. O’Halloran will be in this morning. She can take care of it.”
“Are you sure about my car?”
“You’re working. Your car needs fixing. It won’t be a problem.”
“I can take care of my clothes later. It’s just . . . it would have been nice to have something different to wear.”
He drew her against him and kissed her, sliding his hands inside the robe to cup her breasts. Her nipples went instantly hard.
“I like you best in nothing at all,” he said, kissing her again. Heat rolled through her. She draped her arms around his neck, then winced as he bumped the cut on her arm.
Beau instantly stopped. “Dammit, I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Cassidy checked the bandage, saw the cut wasn’t bleeding. “I’m okay.” She wished he’d go back to kissing her, but it looked like that wasn’t going to happen. “I really do need that shower.” She tossed him a sexy glance and took hold of his hand. “We could save water if you joined me.”
Beau’s beautiful eyes gleamed for an instant; then he shook his head. “Give yourself a chance to heal. Besides, we don’t have that much time.”
Cassidy ignored a trickle of disappointment. He was probably right. Of course, taking a shower with Beau would certainly keep her mind off her aches and pains.
Half an hour later, dressed in brown tights under a tunic-length beige turtleneck sweater and her knee-high brown boots, she was ready for their drive to Pleasant Hill.
On the way out to the garage, Beau stopped in the kitchen and introduced her to Mrs. O’Halloran, his gray-haired housekeeper, who seemed only a little surprised that Beau had a woman in the house. It wasn’t the first time, Cassidy figured, but from the respectful way the woman treated her, it didn’t happen that often.
Beau chose the Lambo for the hour-and-a-half trip to Pleasant Hill. Cassidy settled in the seat as the doors slid down and locked into place and Beau backed out of the garage. God, she loved this car. Just riding in it made her smile.
But as the distance rolled past, Beau grew quieter and quieter. He was obviously worried about what might happen when they got there, and so was she.
“You don’t think they brought me back here to arrest me, do you?”
It could happen. He was the only suspect in two homicides. “It’s possible, I guess. But you have a very powerful attorney. I think they would have informed him if that was the case.” But there was always a chance they would wait to call Temple until after Beau was in custody.
“You think I should have phoned, asked him to meet us there?”
“Probably. If the police start asking questions, you can always refuse to answer until he arrives.”
They drove on in silence. Cassidy turned her attention to the passing landscape along Interstate 30. The ground was mostly level, small farms and open country crossed by intermittent streams heavily lined with oaks and other deciduous trees, wild berries, and shrubs.
The day was clear, with big white clouds in a brilliant blue sky, but the temperature was in the fifties and the forecast called for late-afternoon rain.
“What about this guy in your office?” Beau finally asked, cutting into the silence. “Maddox. He seemed to have more than a passing interest in you.”
“It’s not that. Jase can be a little overly protective. So are the rest of the guys in my office.”
“The rest of the guys?”
“It’s a detective agency, Beau. Only one other female investigator works there.”
“So you’ve never dated Maddox?”
“No. I told you that.”
“Why not? He’s a good-looking guy.”
“Jase is too wild for me. He’s a good friend, just not my type.”
She wished she had the nerve to ask him about Sarah, but he had enough on his mind without being dragged into the past. They continued down the highway and entered Pleasant Hill. The Lamborghini rolled down Main Street and Beau pulled into the parking lot next to the single-story brick building that housed the police department.
Beau held the door as she walked inside. The minute they reached the counter, Tom Briscoe strode toward them.
“Chief’s waiting,” he said simply. “His office is this way.”
They followed Briscoe to a door off the main room, several uniformed officers passing them along the way. Cassidy recognized the skinny young cop who’d stood guard outside the guest house the night of the murder. He gave her a nod of acknowledgment as he passed.
Briscoe knocked, then opened the door. As they walked into the office, Police Chief Eric Warren rose from behind his desk.
“Thanks for coming in, Beau,” the chief said.
“Nice to see you, Chief, though I would have preferred different circumstances.”
Cassidy should have guessed the two would know each other. Beau had been raised in Pleasant Hill, which made him a local celebrity.
“And you’re Ms. Jones?”
“Cassidy will do.”
“Nice to meet you.” He was a nice-looking guy in his forties, brown hair and a solid jaw, just a few wrinkles at the corners of his hazel eyes. He looked capable, Cassidy thought, and if so, maybe he had something good to report.
“Have a seat.” Chief Warren gestured toward the metal chairs in front of his desk, then sat down behind it.
“I hope you called me out here because you have good news,” Beau said. “Like maybe you found the murderer or at least another suspect.”
“Not yet. I can tell you what we have found. We confirmed you received a call on your cell twenty minutes before you were found at the scene of Jess Milford’s murder. We were, however, not able to trace where the call originated. Looks like it must have been a disposable.”
“So you know it was a setup.”
“One phone call doesn’t prove anything. However, the CSIs believe the direction of the blood spatter found in Milford’s kitchen indicates some of it would have shown up on the shooter’s clothes. The only place you had blood was on your shoes. Also, there was no gunshot residue on your hands.”
Beau released a slow breath. “That’s because I didn’t shoot him. Did they find any prints in the house?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. Yours were on the doorknob but nowhere else.”
He nodded. “I didn’t touch anything else. I walked in just seconds before the cops showed up. I hadn’t even turned on the light. What about Milford’s phone or his computer? Find anything there?”
“Nothing useful. Detective Briscoe canvassed the area but nobody saw or heard anything that night.”
“Not even the gunshot?”
“No. Lots of trees around the house. Might have helped muffle the sound.”
“So where does that leave me?”
“I’ve known you awhile, Beau. I know you and your dad didn’t get along. I could buy the theory you argued, lost your temper, and killed him.”
“I didn’t kill him.”
“Let me finish. But I don’t buy the idea that you took a gun that had the serial numbers filed off to Jess Milford’s house and for no apparent reason, shot him in the head. And you managed to do it without getting any gunpowder on your hands, or his blood anywhere but on your shoes. I think something else is going on here. Unfortunately, at the moment we have no idea what it is.”
Beau settled back in his chair. Cassidy read the relief in his face, though he was still the main suspect in the death of his father.
“Is there anything you can think of, Beau, that could give us a clue as to why your dad and Milford were murdered?”
“I’ve been thinking about it, believe me. Cassidy’s an investigator. She’s been helping me try to find out. So far, the only connection we’ve come up with is Alamo. My dad owned it and Milford was a former employee.”
“We’ve been working that angle. You know about the fire that destroyed the apartments Alamo was building?”
Cassidy caught Beau’s glance. He didn’t want his father’s reputation ruined. He was worried about Missy and the baby. He was afraid it would affect little Evie as she was growing up in Pleasant Hill.
But two men were dead. He needed to give the police something they could use.
“The fire was arson,” Beau said. “No secret about that. The investigation concluded it was vandalism. We think Milford might have stumbled onto something, somehow found out who was responsible. Maybe my father did, too, and that’s why they were killed.”
“You think they were killed to keep them from talking?”
Beau shrugged. “At this point, it’s the only thing that makes any sense.”
He wasn’t mentioning the money the senator owed, or his belief that Malcolm Vaughn might have murdered his father for not repaying the loan.
Chief Warren rose in dismissal. “I wish I could tell you this is over, Beau. There’s not enough to hold you for Milford’s death, but you’re still the primary suspect in the senator’s murder. At this point, there’s no way to know if the two are even connected. Maybe someone tried to pin Milford’s death on you because you were already a suspect in the first murder. Until the senator’s killer has been found, we’re still looking hard at you.”
Beau’s features darkened. He nodded.
“Stay close,” Chief Warren said as Beau held the door and Cassidy preceded him out of the office.
“Well, that was good news and bad,” he said glumly as they crossed the lot toward the Lamborghini, which had drawn a small group of teenage admirers.
“Good news is they don’t think you killed Milford. Bad news is they still think you might have killed your dad.”
His face looked grim. As they reached the car, a teenage boy with shoulder-length black hair wearing baggy jeans and a striped T-shirt stepped up to Beau. “Dude, your car is totally awesome.”
Beau relaxed for the first time that day. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, it is.” He clicked the remote and the doors slid up. “Have a look inside.”
“Wow, cool!” a gangly blond boy said as the whole gang rushed forward, all of them clustering around the car. Peering inside, they checked out the futuristic wheel, control panel, and industrial steel floors.
The black-haired teen looked at Beau. “You’re Beau Reese, right? My dad and me used to watch you drive when I was a kid.”
Cassidy smiled and so did Beau because the teen was still very much a kid. “I’m him.”
“How fast does one of these babies go?” the blond boy asked.
“This one tops out at about two twenty.”
His pale eyebrows shot up. “Two hundred twenty miles an hour?”
“That’s right.”
“You ever drive it that fast?” the black-haired kid asked.
“Just on the track. That’s the only place it’s safe to drive a car at those speeds.”
They were looking at Beau like he was a race-car god. Cassidy supposed to a racing fan he was.
“We gotta go, guys.” Beau slid in behind the wheel. Cassidy climbed in and Beau closed the doors. He waved to the boys as he pulled out of the parking lot.
“You’re good with kids,” Cassidy said.
“I like kids. I was an only child. I always wanted a brother or sister. I used to want a big family of my own.”
“You can still have that.”
Beau just shook his head.
Cassidy’s heart went out to him. He was never going to get over Sarah. She wished it didn’t bother her as much as it did.
“What about you?” he asked. “You want kids someday?”
She glanced away. Of course she wanted kids, though she wasn’t sure it would ever happen. “Depends on the guy. I’m not interested in being a single mom. I’d want my baby to have a father.”
Beau fell silent. She knew he was thinking of his own dad and the relationship they’d never had.
“Before we head back,” Beau said, “I want to check on Missy and Evie. They’re home from the hospital. I want to make sure they have everything they need.”
“Good idea. But if we’re going to see them, let’s make a stop at the Pink Blossom, pick up a little gift. It’s just down the street.”
“I should have thought of that myself. And I could really use something to eat.”
“Me, too.” Cassidy leaned back in her seat. Whatever happened between them, she was glad Beau had his baby sister and Missy. Maybe, in time, he would understand it wasn’t too late to have a family of his own.
She wanted that for him, she realized. She wanted him to be happy. Even if that happiness came at her own expense.
Warning bells went off in her head. Every day she was falling harder for Beau. She needed to end things now, before she got hurt.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t willing to leave until he was no longer a murder suspect.
She sighed as the car rolled down the block. The sooner that happened, the better off both of them would be.