Yesterday's Scandal. GINA WILKINS
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Gilbert Dodson gave a gloomy sigh. “I’ll keep asking, Wade, but I’ve talked to everyone but the chickens now.”
Wade leaned back in his creaky chair and steepled his fingers in front of him. “Then maybe you should start interviewing chickens.”
Shoulders slumping, Gilbert nodded and turned toward the door. “I’ll get right on that, Chief.”
Wade muttered a curse as his office door clicked shut. He tended to take it personally when anyone broke the law in his town. There’d been a rash of break-ins about a month ago, and the culprits had never been caught. Now there’d been another—the Porter place. They’d been quietly and efficiently cleaned out by whoever had been in the same van that had almost killed Sharon Henderson.
The break-ins were connected. Wade was sure of it, even though he had no evidence to support his hunch. There wasn’t that much crime in Honoria, and there hadn’t been any breaking and entering going on in almost five years. Not since the O’Brien kid and his buddies had thought it would be “fun” to start their own crime ring. Kevin O’Brien was twenty-three years old now and had done his time. The first thing Wade did when the current burglaries began was to check on Kevin’s whereabouts. As far as he could tell, there was no connection this time.
Which meant he had another thief operating in his town, victimizing and endangering his friends and neighbors. And that made Wade mad.
Narrowing his eyes, he picked up the report that had been filed by Mac Cordero, the “mysterious stranger” everyone had been gossiping about. It was interesting that the previous burglaries had taken place while Cordero was in town a few weeks back buying the old Garrett place. Now there’d been another one, only days after Cordero returned to begin the renovation project. Cordero “just happened” to be driving down that back road at the same time the Porter place was being cleaned out. Maybe there was no connection there, but Wade didn’t like coincidences.
Wade’s wife and kids lived in this town. It was his job to keep them—and the other residents—safe. He turned his attention to Cordero’s statement again, looking for anything that resembled a clue.
CHAPTER TWO
IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG for Mac to learn a few things about the woman he’d pulled from Snake Creek. Even though he didn’t mingle much with the townspeople, every busybody he encountered in Honoria during the next few days—and there seemed to be many of them—was anxious to tell him all about her. He found some of the information interesting, but two comments, in particular, caught his attention.
Sharon Henderson was an interior decorator and a good friend of the McBride family.
The motel where he was staying was not so coincidentally located within full view of the McBride Law Firm. From the window of his room, Mac could see the firm’s parking lot. He’d heard that the founder, Caleb McBride, a lifelong resident of Honoria now in his early sixties, had very recently left for a month-long Caribbean cruise with his wife, Bobbie. Their older son, Trevor, was running the law office single-handedly until Caleb’s return.
Mac had watched a steady stream of clients and visitors entering and exiting the office building during the last five days he’d spent in Honoria. Some he could already identify, such as Trevor’s striking, red-haired wife and two young children, and Trevor’s younger brother, Trent, whom Mac had met a month ago in that same parking lot.
Late Monday afternoon, Sharon Henderson arrived at the firm.
Watching from his window, Mac recognized her immediately, though he wasn’t sure how. The attractive, well-dressed woman who slid out of a nondescript sedan bore little resemblance to the wet, shivering waif he’d encountered Friday night. Her hair fell in a gleaming brown sweep to just above her shoulders and she carried herself with poised self-confidence. As she disappeared inside the law office, he told himself he could be mistaken. There was no way he could know for sure the visitor was Sharon. Even if he’d gotten a closer look at her that night, he was too far away to see her clearly now.
Drinking coffee from the coffeemaker provided in the room, he was still sitting in the uncomfortable chair watching the other building when the woman emerged again. Though he’d spent the past hour trying to convince himself he couldn’t possibly have identified her, the sense of recognition hit him again the moment she walked out into the parking lot. He didn’t know how he knew, but he was convinced Sharon Henderson had just dropped in on Trevor McBride.
Interesting. He’d heard she was a friend and her visit proved there was a professional relationship, as well. He wondered just how much she knew about the McBride family history…and if she shared the rest of the town’s passion for idle gossip.
Maybe it was time for him to pay a call on her. He’d been thinking about doing that, anyway, for professional reasons. Now that he knew her connection to the McBrides, he had more personal motives for wanting to get better acquainted with Sharon Henderson.
“C’MON, SHARON, why can’t I go? All the other guys will be there.”
Sharon grimaced as her fifteen-year-old brother’s voice edged perilously close to a whine. She tightened her grip on the telephone receiver, trying to get a firmer hold on her patience at the same time. “Brad, you are not going to an unchaperoned party. I know Mike Riordan’s parents are out of town this week, and I don’t at all approve of them allowing him to have a party at their house while they’re away. As far as I’m concerned, that’s just asking for trouble.”
“But Mike’s brother Joe is going to be there to keep an eye on things. He’s a college man.”
Sharon wasn’t impressed. “He just finished his first year of college. That makes him barely nineteen years old. I’m sorry, but that isn’t my idea of a suitable chaperon for a houseful of teenagers. The answer is no. We can go out to eat or to a movie, if you like. Or you can invite a couple of your friends over to eat pizza and play video games.”
“All my friends are going to the party. No one’s going to want to miss it to hang out with me.”
Refusing to be swayed by his plaintive tone, Sharon responded firmly. “I doubt that everyone will be at the party. I’m sure I won’t be the only adult who’ll think this is a bad idea.”
“Just let me go for a little while, okay? If it gets too wild, I’ll call you to come get me.”
“You aren’t going to a party that isn’t adequately supervised, and there’s no use discussing it any further.”
“Fine. Great. Ruin my life.”
She sighed. “I’m not trying to ruin your life. I’m trying to be a responsible guardian.”
“Mom would let me go if she was here.”
The operative word, Sharon thought wearily, was responsible—something their dear, ditzy mother had never been. “Well, Mom’s not here. While she’s away, I’m in charge. You’re just going to have to accept that.”
Sullen silence was his only response.
“Be thinking about what you want for dinner tonight, okay?” she suggested, her tone conciliatory. “We can go to that new Mexican place you like so much. You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?”
“Might as well sit at home and watch TV,” he muttered.
“If that’s your choice,” she agreed evenly. “I have to get back to work now. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
He hung up without responding.
Sharon rubbed her forehead as she hung up the phone. It was Tuesday afternoon, a slow day in her home-decor shop, and for once she was grateful for the lull. Her full-time assistant was at a doctor’s appointment, and Sharon was alone. Between her confrontations with her rebellious kid brother and the almost incessant calls from acquaintances still wanting to talk about the incident Friday night, she was ready for some time to herself.
With