Dead Right (Stillwater Trilogy #3)(74)
Author: Brenda Novak

“And now what do they say?”

“I figure the cops finding that stuff in the Cadillac must have them wondering if I was telling the truth all along, but they say it doesn’t matter. That was then. This is now. My dad just wants me to straighten out my life.”

Hunter shoved the hair out of his eyes again. “Are you going to be able to do that?”

“Are you going to let me?” he countered belligerently.

“That depends,” Hunter replied.

“On what?”

“Roll up your sleeves and let me take a look at your hands.”

“What?” He spoke with the cigarette still in his mouth.

“You heard me.”

His eyes narrowed. “And if I won’t?”

“You don’t want to know,” Hunter said.

Tossing his second cigarette away, Mike unbuttoned his sleeves, which he pushed back to reveal wellmuscled forearms. There were plenty of snake and eagle tattoos. Ink covered almost every inch of skin. But there wasn’t so much as a recent scratch.

“Tell your parents you have nothing to fear from me,” Hunter said and started toward the driver’s side of his car.

“Damn! You do believe me, don’t you?” Mike said incredulously.

When Hunter didn’t answer, Mike followed him and caught his door before he could shut it. “You believe I’m telling the truth about the reverend.”

Oh, yes, Hunter believed him. But that was no woman Barker had in his office. A woman was too much of a risk. If Hunter had his bet, it was a girl. Probably Grace.

But he wasn’t happy to learn that his instincts had been right.

“He was worse than an adulterer,” he said. Then he pulled the door out of Mike’s grasp, closed it and drove away.

Ray could feel the Viagra and ecstasy he’d taken juicing him up like a rechargeable battery, and he felt invincible. He was rock-hard, if Madeline cared to look. It was titillating to think she might. For a man of fifty-five, he was impressive, he told himself. And if she wanted him even bigger, he had an extender.

He had anything she could want.

But her eyes never wandered south. She was too absorbed in taking notes for that obituary she planned to write for Bubba. And weeping.

How dare she! It was her fault Bubba was dead. If she could just leave the past alone instead of digging, digging, always digging. And now she’d brought that private detective to town, that guy who was causing so much trouble, asking too many questions about Rose Lee. Ray had heard something about it last night, when he’d stopped by the bar for a few drinks while building up the nerve to visit Madeline’s house.

That bastard detective had better keep his mouth shut about Rose Lee…

“I guess that’s it.” Madeline closed her notebook. “Thanks for your help.”

“It’s the least I can do.” He adjusted his sleeve to make sure it hid the Band-Aid covering the gash on his arm. “I’m shocked by what happened. But you seem…extra distraught.”

“I know. I’m not handling this very well. Bubba and I weren’t even close, but—” she sniffed “—it seems like I’m taking everything harder than I ordinarily would.”

“You’ve been under a lot of stress,” he said sympathetically.

She stood and moved toward the door, avoiding the table where he’d put the tarantula, and he had the sudden impulse to stop her. He could do it. If she went missing, there’d be no one to pay the investigator, so he’d have to go home, right? Of course, the police would search for Madeline, but he’d hide her body so well no one would ever find it.

Maybe they’d blame the Montgomerys for Madeline’s disappearance, too.

Ray wanted to laugh at the thought. But killing wasn’t as easy as he’d expected. Last night, he and Bubba had gotten into a scuffle, during which Ray had bruised his leg on the corner of the coffee table. Then the cat, frightened by the violence, had pounced and scratched him, and he’d thrown it against the wall. If Bubba hadn’t tripped when he saw that, if he’d reached the phone he’d been hoping to grab, Ray didn’t know how it would’ve ended. Even after the big man fell and lay unconscious, and Ray had pressed that pillow over his nose and mouth, it seemed to take him forever to die.

Bubba Turk had a stronger heart than everyone believed, that was for damn sure.

But Ray had won.

Then he’d burned the pillow out back in the woods and stood in his shower for twenty minutes at least, whimpering and crying as he washed off the blood. He’d been terrified that someone had heard the ruckus and called the cops, so terrified that he hadn’t returned to bury the cat he’d dumped in the shed. And now it was too late. They’d already found Bubba. He didn’t want to go back there. He wanted to stay as far away as possible.

So far, no cops had knocked on his door to take him into police custody. So far no one seemed to have seen or heard anything. And so far, in the wake of Bubba’s death, no one acted too concerned about the darn cat. He wanted to keep it that way.

To celebrate his victory—and take the edge off his fear—Ray had popped some ecstasy and gone on a  p**n o binge. The image he found the most erotic, a woman who looked a great deal like Madeline being raped by three men, was still on his computer in the other room. It’d shock her to see it, he knew, make her gasp in horror.

Longing to watch the blood drain from her face as recognition dawned, he blocked the door. He needed something more visceral than he’d had in the past twenty-eight years. Pornography was no longer as satisfying as it had been only a week ago.

He imagined tying her up and letting Bubba’s tarantula crawl over her bare body as he tightened the garrote—and found it strangely compelling that he’d violate Barker’s daughter the way Barker had violated his. To Barker, Rose Lee had been expendable. But not Madeline. Madeline was too good.

Well, not anymore.

When he didn’t move, Madeline frowned in confusion. “Excuse me.”

He smiled. “Don’t go yet. I have something to show you.”

She hiked her purse up higher. “What’s that?”

“It’s a surprise.” He pointed over her head, down the hall. “Check out what’s in that first bedroom.”

A hint of suspicion entered her lovely green eyes. She could tell something wasn’t quite right with him. But years of knowing him, of seeing him in church and around town and experiencing no fear—that, and her innate friendliness—were working against her.