The Second Sister. Dani Sinclair
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“Mrs. Walken claims tea with sugar is good for shock. I suspect we both need a cup. Besides, the coffeemaker’s broken again, so it’s tea or soda.”
“I’m not thirsty.”
“Drink it anyway.”
She was so cold inside, she didn’t think even a gallon of hot tea would help. She’d probably just embarrass herself further by vomiting it right back up. Leigh looked quickly away from the cookies he’d bought from the vending machine.
“Try to eat one. We need to give your system something to absorb besides the drug.”
A protest formed in her head, but she blocked the words before they could slip past. Sipping tea and nibbling on a cookie gave her something to do, a focus other than looking at him.
“What were you doing at that party?”
Leigh cringed. “I went with Nolan.”
“Ducort?” he asked in obvious disbelief. “What’s a kid like you doing with a creep like that?”
Forcing herself to meet his eyes she said simply, “He asked me out.”
Gavin muttered something under his breath. A pulse in his neck began to throb. He looked as if he wanted to hit someone. She cringed. Instantly, his features transformed, softening.
“Listen to me, Leigh, I’m sorrier than I can say about what happened. I swear I didn’t recognize you at first or I would have taken you straight home.”
She swallowed the hurt, refusing to cry in front of him. The old desk chair she’d sat down on squeaked in protest. “Thanks a lot,” she managed to say.
Gavin didn’t seem to hear her. “You are not to blame. Do you understa—”
Leigh stood so fast that the cookies scattered across the desktop. “Don’t you dare patronize me. I’m not twelve.”
“At least tell me I didn’t seduce a minor.”
“It was consensual sex, not seduction,” she told him, shaking from head to toe.
“You were drugged,” he said bluntly. “And you were a virgin.”
“Well, I don’t have to worry about that problem anymore, now, do I?”
Headlights bathed the interior of the gas station. A car was pulling up out front.
“Your sister’s here.”
Horrified, she stared at him. “You called my house?”
“No, I called the Walkens. I wanted advice before we go to the police.”
She gaped at him. “We aren’t going to the police!”
“You were drugged. Don’t you understand? Ducort slipped something in your drink. He intended to rape you. Only, I got to you first,” he added grimly.
For a second she thought she would pass out. Dimly, she heard him opening the door at her back.
“Bad luck for you, huh?” she spit at him. A clamoring anger filled her. “Well, don’t give it another thought. I sure don’t plan to. I’m not going to the police. But if either one of you ever comes near me again, I’ll make you rue the day you were born.”
Gavin stepped aside. Hayley and the Walkens stood in the doorway with mingled expressions of shock and concern. Leigh’s humiliation was complete.
Pivoting, she held her tears in check with fierce effort as she gazed at the man she had dreamed about for so long.
“I will never, ever forgive you for this.”
EIGHTEEN HOURS LATER, Gavin sat in jail contemplating his bruised knuckles and wondering why he’d felt obligated to play the hero. All he had to do was tell the police the truth—and ruin Leigh’s reputation completely.
Besides, what was the point? The cops thought they already knew the truth. An anonymous tip put his bike outside his employer’s house last night. The house had been burgled. Old man Wickert had been struck a couple of times, tied up, then left there to suffer a heart attack. If he died, the cops would add murder to the charge, and Gavin knew the police chief was just itching to do exactly that.
Gavin had been allowed one phone call. He’d used it to call George Walken. He’d elicited a reluctant promise from the man to keep Leigh out of this no matter what. He’d pointed out that telling the truth would only get him in deeper. The cops would claim Gavin had given her the drug and there was no point in dragging her name through the mud. He’d told George’s attorney, Ira Rosencroft, the same thing.
Gavin opened his eyes when his cell door suddenly clanged open. A fresh-faced officer not much older than he was took a step back and waited.
“Let’s go, Jarret.”
“Go where?”
“You need to sign for your things. You’re being released.”
“Why?”
“You like it here so much you want to stay?”
“Did Mr. Wickert regain consciousness?”
Hope filled him. The old man had been a demanding boss, as crotchety as a bear coming out of hibernation. He’d turned grumbling into an art form, but he’d given Gavin a job and a chance when no one else would, and over time, the two of them had come to like and respect each other.
The cop shook his head. “He died about an hour ago.”
“Damn.”
Their eyes met in shared sympathy. Gavin swallowed his grief. “So, why are you letting me go?”
“Your alibi came in. You know, you could have saved us all a lot of work if you’d just told us where you were last night.”
George had promised him! So had the attorney. Gavin scrawled his name on the paper he was handed and stuffed his nearly empty wallet into his back pocket. Livid that one of them had betrayed him, he started walking away. The interrogation-room door swung open.
The police chief stood in the doorway, glaring at a slim figure sitting on the hard wooden chair. She stared back with wide, unblinking eyes.
“You should reconsider,” Chief Crossley growled.
Leigh Thomas rose with the grace of a queen. Her long, golden-brown hair swung halfway down her back. She faced the man with a composure few could have matched.
“No, you should reconsider.” She spoke with quiet force. “I know you don’t like me and my sister, and you don’t like Gavin or the Walkens, but if you let that stand in your way, you won’t solve this murder, either. Gavin was with me last night, and I’ll swear to that in court. There is nothing you can say or do that will change that simple truth.”
She stared him in the eye without flinching. A slip of a girl really, yet she faced that six-foot-five-inch pompous ass with a dignity that shrunk him right down to size.
“You listen to me, girl. If we find one piece of evidence to link Jarret to that crime, I’ll have you up on an accessory to murder charge so fast it will make your head swim.”
“No. You won’t. You’d have to fabricate evidence, and you may be incompetent, but I don’t think you’re dishonest.”
“Get her out of here,” the chief snarled, turning dark angry red. Pivoting, he spied Gavin. “Get them both out of my sight,” he told the young cop standing silently to one side.
Gavin fell into pace beside Leigh. She wouldn’t look at him as they walked outside. Her chin was up, her shoulders back, and she stared straight ahead as she moved. She flinched when he touched her shoulder, and his gut tightened in pain.
“Why did you come here?” he demanded. “I told that lawyer and the Walkens to leave you out of this!”
“They