The Legend of Smuggler's Cave. Пола Грейвс

none of your business.” Dalton tried to take a step around him, but Doyle shifted, staying in his path.

      “I don’t know what you’re up to or why you’ve suddenly taken an interest in my newest recruit, but don’t drag our bad blood into it.”

      Dalton couldn’t help smiling at the chief’s choice of words. “Bad blood, huh?”

      “Dana and I get that you don’t want to be part of our family, and you know, we can live with that. But don’t think that means we’ll let you screw with our lives and the lives of people around us.”

      “Your faith in my integrity is touching.”

      “I have no faith in you at all,” Doyle snapped back, dropping all pretense of friendly civility. “What brought you here tonight?”

      “A case.” Dalton lifted his chin, daring the chief to start a fight.

      “Which case is that?”

      Dalton glanced to his right as Walker Nix rose from his seat and headed for the waiting room door. Off to see after the Blackwood widow and her aunt, he guessed. Maybe take the older woman’s statement.

      He’d wanted to be there for that statement himself, but clearly the chief had other ideas.

      “Why don’t you both try being straight with each other?” Laney rose from her chair and moved to turn their tense twosome into a threesome.

      They both looked at her, and she lifted her eyebrows in response.

      Doyle looked back at Dalton, his eyebrows mimicking his fiancée’s. “Well? What case are we talking about?”

      Dalton was tempted to just leave without answering. But with so much on the line—not just his own ambitions but the safety of all the people he’d sworn justice for—he couldn’t afford to let his emotions muck up the works.

      “I’ve been trying to piece together a conspiracy case against the people we suspect were involved in the Wayne Cortland crime network,” he said finally, lowering his voice by habit. “You know that Blake Culpepper has been fingered as one of the people involved.”

      “And you come here in the middle of the night to a hospital waiting room to ask Blake’s distant cousin questions about his criminal activity?” Doyle sound unconvinced.

      “Not about Culpepper.” Dalton tamped down a smile at the thought that he actually knew something his know-it-all half brother didn’t. “I came here to ask her questions about her late husband.”

      “You have questions about Johnny? Why?”

      “Because odds are good he was part of Cortland’s organization.”

      Chapter Two

      Briar had never liked hospitals, even before her mother’s death from breast cancer. The antiseptic smells, the dim artificial lights, the rhythms of machines that beat like the pulse of some giant predatory beast—they were alien to the life she knew, a life of fresh air, changing seasons, the loamy essence of earth and trees and the feel of wind in her hair.

      In the white-sheeted hospital bed, her aunt looked like a thin, sickly child instead of a strong, wiry woman in her late fifties. Her shiny silver-streaked black hair looked dull and brittle beneath the single light shining over her bed, and when Jenny turned her tired gaze to Briar, she looked as if she’d aged a decade overnight.

      The cast on her right arm was bulky and the color of old paper, not quite white, not quite yellow. “Does it hurt?” Briar asked, resting her hand on the rough-textured surface of the cast.

      “Not at the moment.”

      There was a knock on the door behind her. Then it inched open and Walker Nix’s face appeared in the opening. “Is it okay to come in?”

      Briar looked at her aunt. “I think Walker wants to ask you some questions about what happened.”

      “Of course.” Jenny flashed the detective a wan smile as he entered and came to stand at the foot of her bed.

      “How’re you feeling?” he asked Jenny, briefly squeezing Briar’s shoulder before dropping his hand to his pocket to pull out a notebook.

      “I’m not feeling much of anything at the moment,” Jenny admitted, making Briar smile. “I guess you want to know what I remember.”

      “As much as you can.”

      Briar’s aunt lifted her left hand to her brow. “I’d just put Logan to bed when there was a knock on the door.” Jenny’s gaze slanted to meet Briar’s. “I know you say never to answer the door at night, but the person on the other side said he was Doyle Massey, and you know that light on the porch went out night before last.”

      Briar gave herself a mental kick. “I meant to put a new bulb in before I left tonight.”

      “You can imagine what I was thinking.” Jenny reached out to Briar, clasping her hand when she offered it. “It was your second week on the police force, and here was the chief of police knocking at the door in the middle of the night....”

      It had been a ruse guaranteed to get Jenny to open the door, which meant the intruders were familiar enough with her life to know it would work, Briar realized with a shudder of dismay.

      “Did you get a good look at the intruders?” Nix asked.

      “They wore face paint and dark camouflage. One of them had a skull cap kind of hat—black, I think. It was dark and it all happened so fast. His hair was up under the cap, so I couldn’t tell you what color it was. I think his eyes were dark—they didn’t really give me much time to look at them, to be honest. Just pushed me inside, turned out the lights and started throwing me around.”

      Anger built like a fire in the pit of Briar’s gut. “Did you fight them?”

      Jenny shook her head, looking stricken. “First blow, they broke my arm. Felt like they’d torn it clear off. Then I guess I hit my head on the hearth, because the next thing I remember is waking up when you came into the bedroom to check on me. I don’t even know how I got there.”

      The intruders had probably dragged her there so they wouldn’t have to step over her body while they ransacked the place, Briar thought. “The hospital has her clothes. They’ve bagged them up for evidence,” she told Nix.

      He nodded, his dark eyes reflecting the fire she felt roiling in her gut. “Miss Jenny, is there anything else you can remember? Did the men say anything when they were pushing you around?”

      Jenny reached up and dashed away tears that had welled in her eyes. “I’m not sure—it was all such a blur....”

      Briar squeezed her aunt’s hand. “You never know what might make sense to someone else.”

      Jenny gave her hand a little squeeze back. “The other man said something about books.”

      Nix and Briar exchanged glances. “What books?” Nix asked.

      “I don’t know.” Jenny shook her head, wincing as the motion apparently made her headache flare up. “He just said something like ‘The books could be anywhere.’”

      “What kind of books do you have?” Nix asked Briar curiously.

      “Nothing valuable,” she assured him. “Some of Logan’s picture books, all my books from community college, some novels. Johnny didn’t do a lot of reading for pleasure, so I don’t even know if I have any of his books left. But none of them would be worth breaking into a cabin and beating up a woman for. Believe me.”

      Jenny’s eyelids were drooping, Briar noticed, though she was trying not to show her weariness. Turning to Nix, Briar gave a little nod of her head toward the door.

      “Miss Jenny, thank you for the information. I’m going to head out now and let you get some rest.” Nix closed