Scene Of The Crime: Who Killed Shelly Sinclair?. Carla Cassidy. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Carla Cassidy
Издательство: HarperCollins
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Жанр произведения: Зарубежные детективы
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his thick short hair and leaned back against the bench. “Do I think Bo killed Shelly? My gut instinct is that he didn’t.”

      “And how good is your gut instinct?”

      He grinned at her, his perfect white teeth flashing bright. “Better than most, but in this case I guess time and more investigation will tell us if it’s on the money.”

      “Who found her body? I didn’t see anything in the report.”

      “An early morning jogger named Tom Dempsey. Tom is sixty-seven years old and jogs at odd times of the day and night. It was four in the morning when he saw Shelly floating in the swamp and called it in. Thankfully, we managed to retrieve her before any gators or other wildlife got to her.”

      Olivia had been involved in many homicide cases in Natchez, but for some reason the case of Shelly Sinclair was hitting her hard. She rose from the bench, not wanting to sit another minute in this place of death.

      Daniel stood, as well. “I have a favor to ask you,” she said as they walked back to their cars. She paused and gazed up at him. “I’ve been watching the way you interact among the men and it’s obvious they look up to you. What I need to know is if I can trust you completely?”

      She held his gaze steadily. She might be making a mistake, but she needed somebody on the inside, somebody who had worked closely with the other men in the department.

      She had no real reason to trust Daniel. A single night in bed certainly wasn’t the basis to build trust on, but her gut instinct told her he was the one man in the department who was an upright, by-the-book lawman.

      “Of course you can trust me completely,” he replied. The earnestness in his eyes comforted her.

      “Then what I’d like to do is meet you for coffee one evening soon at the café and have a talk about some of your fellow officers,” she said.

      He frowned. “I’d really rather not do that at the café where people can see us together or might overhear the conversation. I don’t want the men to think I’m being a snitch.”

      “Of course, I didn’t think about that.”

      “Why don’t you follow me to my place now and we can talk privately there?”

      Olivia thought about all the questions she had about some of the deputies. “Okay,” she agreed a bit reluctantly.

      It was only when she was back in her car and following him to his place that she thought this might be a bad idea. First and foremost she was running only on a gut instinct and his word that he was trustworthy.

      More important, she feared that in the privacy of his home he might bring up that night they’d shared five years ago, a night she’d spent the last five years trying desperately to forget.

      He’d been vaguely surprised when Olivia had agreed to come to his home to talk, but as he pulled into the driveway he punched the garage door opener that would open both sides of the double garage and she apparently understood that he intended for her to pull in next to him.

      No need for anyone to see her car parked outside his house. It was one thing for them to be seen together in an official capacity, but another altogether for them to be together in their off-duty hours.

      The last thing she would want was any kind of gossip to start up about her, and there was no reason to invite it by being careless at this point in time.

      When she was parked inside and out of her car, he punched the button to close the doors behind them. “Call me paranoid,” he said when they were both out of the cars. “I just think it best if people don’t know we have any kind of a relationship outside of work hours.”

      “I appreciate it and I agree.”

      When he opened the door that led from the garage into the kitchen, he was grateful that by nature he was a neat and tidy man. He didn’t have to worry about errant boxers dangling off light fixtures or beer bottles lined up like soldiers awaiting a trip to the trash. He gestured her to the round oak kitchen table and then moved to the counter to make a pot of coffee.

      “Nice house,” she said as she sat. “Big for a man who told me he has no desire for a wife or a family.”

      “Thanks, it really is more than I need but it was a foreclosure and I couldn’t resist the great price. It needed a little cosmetic TLC, and I’ve managed to finish it all up.”

      The coffee began to brew and he turned and leaned against the cabinet to face her. “Don’t worry, I didn’t buy it with ill-gotten gains.”

      “That never crossed my mind. From reading the records, I know that you and Josh Griffin were instrumental in the arrest of Trey Walker and Jim Burns.”

      “It was mostly Josh. Savannah had been attacked and Josh hunted through the underground tunnels to see if he could find any evidence. What he found was an entrance that led up to Walker’s garage filled with meth.”

      “So you trust Josh.”

      “With my life,” he replied easily. “He and I are not only fellow deputies, we’re also close friends.” He had the ridiculous impulse to walk over to her and pull off the clasp from the nape of her neck that held her beautiful long hair captive.

      He turned back to the cabinet and pulled out two cups. “Cream or sugar or both?” he asked.

      “Just black is fine,” she replied. “What about Emma Carpenter? Is she a good deputy?”

      It was obvious this private meeting was just as she’d indicated it would be, an opportunity for her to pick his brains about his coworkers. He poured their coffee and then joined her at the table.

      “Emma is a hard worker. She’s thoughtful and meticulous and I’d trust her under any circumstances.”

      Olivia cupped her hands around her coffee mug. “I’m just trying to get an idea of the people who work here for the department. The employment files were relatively inadequate as far as any notes of discipline or commendations anyone might have received.”

      “For the most part we’re a good team,” he said.

      “For the most part...” she echoed with a raise of a dark brow.

      Daniel sighed. “I don’t want to believe that any of the other officers had anything to do with the drug-trafficking issue.”

      “I sense a but on the end of that sentence.”

      He smiled ruefully. “But there are a couple of men I don’t completely trust.”

      She leaned forward and he caught a whiff of that lilac fresh spring scent that had once driven him half-mad with desire for her. It still affected him on a visceral level, evoking unwanted memories of the night they’d shared.

      “Who don’t you trust?” she asked.

      He watched her lips move and remembered the fiery kisses they’d shared. He mentally shook himself and focused on the topic at hand. “I don’t want you to think that I’m some kind of snitch, but you do have a right to know potential problems within the department.”

      She took a sip of her coffee, her eyes dark and unfathomable over the rim of the cup. “Give me names,” she said as she lowered her cup back to the table.

      “Ray McClure. He was very close to Walker, but insists he had no idea what was going on when it came to the drugs flowing in and out of town. He also seemed particularly eager to point a finger at Bo for the murder of Shelly.”

      “I’d already identified him as an issue,” she admitted. “He’s lazy and borders on insubordination. Do you think he might have had something to do with Shelly’s murder?”

      “I doubt it. I think he was just following Trey’s lead in proclaiming