.” He peered through the bug-splattered windshield and shook his head. “Jesus, what a mess.”
“Is that all you can say?”
He turned on her. “No, I could say that the only reason I’m not taking you in on suspicion of murder is because whoever phoned in the tip that Pasty was sitting in his pickup with his throat cut didn’t mention that there was a broad with him.”
“Somebody tipped you?”
“That’s right. Any idea who?”
“I guess whoever knew I was coming here to meet him,” she shouted. Then, when another thought struck her, she became still and quiet. “How’d you get here so fast, Reede?”
“You think I headed him off and put a knife to his throat?” he asked with an incredulous laugh.
“It’s possible.”
Holding her stare, he called for one of his deputies. Alex hadn’t realized until then that there was someone with him. She became aware of a couple of things at once—the wail of an approaching siren, the appearance of curious customers, who were rushing out the door of the bar to see what the commotion was about.
“Escort her back to her motel,” Reede curtly instructed the deputy. “See that she gets inside her room.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Keep an eye on her till daylight. Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.”
Alex and the sheriff exchanged a hostile stare before she allowed the deputy to lead her back to her car.
“Sheriff?” The deputy tapped hesitantly on the door before daring to open it. The word around the office that morning was that Reede was in a bitch of a mood, and only partially because of Pasty Hickam’s death the night before. Everybody was walking on eggshells.
“What is it?”
“I’ve got some papers for you to sign.”
“Give them here.” Reede eased up from his half-reclining position in the swivel chair and reached for the stack of official documents and letters. He scrawled his signature where it was called for.
“How’s Ruby Faye this morning?”
Pasty’s lover had been found in her mobile home when the sheriff arrived there to question her, beaten to a pulp. Before passing out, she named her cuckolded husband as the culprit.
“Lyle did almost as good a number on her as he did on Pasty. She’s gonna have to stay in the hospital a week or so. The kids have been packed off to her mama’s house.”
Reede’s expression turned even surlier. He had no tolerance for men who physically abused women, no matter what the provocation. He had been on the receiving end of too many beatings from his old man to stomach domestic violence.
He passed the paperwork back to the clerk. “Any feedback on that APB?”
“No, sir. I’ll let you know. And you told me to remind you that you’re scheduled to testify in Judge Wallace’s court this afternoon.”
“Shit, I would’ve forgotten. Okay, thanks.” The deputy gratefully withdrew, but Reede had mentally dismissed him from his mind even before the door clicked shut.
He couldn’t hold a thought for longer than a few seconds this morning. The image of Alex left little room for any others.
Swearing liberally, he left his chair and moved to the window. Outside, it was another sunny day. He was reminded of yesterday, when he’d pulled her up on that horse with him and the sunlight had turned her hair a deep, mahogany red. That’s what he must have been thinking about when he’d started shooting off his mouth about that stupid football trophy.
Why, for crissake, had he kept it all this time? Every time he looked at it his emotions were split right down the middle, the way they’d been the night he had received it. His elation had been dampened because Junior hadn’t been named most valuable player. Crazy as the notion was, he had wanted to apologize to Angus and Junior for winning the award. He’d deserved it because he was the better athlete, but winning over Junior had tainted the prize.
Alex had figured all that out by herself. She was smart, all right. But she wasn’t as tough as she pretended to be. She’d had the daylights scared out of her last night, and justifiably so. Pasty had never been a pretty sight, but dead, with blood congealing on his down jacket, he was even uglier.
Maybe it had been good for her to see that. Maybe she wouldn’t be so eager to uncover secrets that were none of her concern. Maybe Pasty’s grisly murder would scare her out of investigating Celina’s. Maybe she’d leave Purcell and never come back.
That possibility should have cheered him. It didn’t. It made him angrier with her and with himself.