Admit One (40 page)

Allie swallowed back the rage that was trying to push its way to her emotional surface, like magma about to erupt. She wasn’t entirely sure what Alan hoped to accomplish by having this conversation here and now, but she certainly no longer trusted that he had her well-being at heart.

“If you’re worried that I’m going to tell Will,” because now she was assuming, judging by Alan’s behavior, that Will did not know “then let me set your mind at ease. I think it was a very ill-advised and… underhanded way of trying to accomplish your objective, not to mention that it caused me a great deal of pain.” She let some of that pain show through in her face, her voice, and he had the grace to wince. “But I’m not going to run to my big brother and try to get you fired.” Although she had no doubt that Will
would
find out about this, and that Alan’s termination would likely be the inevitable result.

Alan gave her a look that could only be described as pitying. “If only it were that simple.”

“I see no reason to make it complicated. You exercised poor judgment. Most of us do at one time or another.” Though not often in such a spectacularly self-serving, inconsiderate and assholish way.

He laughed, just a huff of air that carried no real amusement. “You think I’m worried about losing my job.”

“Well… aren’t you?”

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg, I’m afraid.”

“I don’t know what you –” Allie gasped when she saw the Taser. Her gaze flew up to meet Alan’s.

“I really am sorry,” he said.

MASON
felt rather ridiculously like a small boy anxiously awaiting the arrival of good old Saint Nick. He’d used the time of Allison’s absence to clean up both himself and the kitchen counter, which – were this his own home – he might consider having bronzed. Rather like one did with their children’s baby booties. Or at least that was what his parents had done. Perhaps other people weren’t quite so obsessive.

Thinking of his parents made him smile. He couldn’t wait for them to meet Allison – and that in itself told him exactly how much he’d changed. They were flying into town for Tucker’s wedding, as his mum considered Tucker to be her surrogate son, and Mason was practically bursting to show Allie off.

Which clearly meant he’d lost his mind. His mum would be calling the banns straightaway.

Somehow, that thought wasn’t nearly as alarming as it should be.

Growing impatient, Mason actually went to the window to see if he could spot Allison headed back this way. There were a number of trees and tall hedges in between the properties, but the window over the kitchen sink afforded a partial view of the Dust Jacket’s back porch.

And bloody hell, he thought with a measure of disgust. He was going to have to surrender his man card if he didn’t stop acting like a love struck fool.

He began to turn away from the window, only to see Allie descending the porch steps. His expression brightened. His heart leapt. And his nether regions were rather intrigued by what exactly she appeared to be carrying under her arm.

Some type of food product, he thought…

She disappeared behind the hedge and Mason considered how embarrassing it would be for her to actually
catch
him watching for her out the window. Wouldn’t want her to mistake him for a fifteen-year-old girl, after all.

He started to move away from the window. But something moved out of the shadows, something large, and disappeared around the corner of the hedge. Following Allison.

Mason flew out the door.

“NO!”
Allie said, horrified by the sight of the Taser, but just as Alan raised his arm he was tackled from behind.

“Oh my God.
Mason.”
He and Alan grappled on the ground. Evenly matched as far as size and weight, Mason had the advantage of surprise. But Alan was a trained police officer. And Allie couldn’t forget that he was armed.

Mason delivered a short arm punch as Alan tried to get his own arm around to use the Taser on Mason. Allie dug into her purse before flinging it to the ground.

“Drop the Taser or I’ll shoot. I said
drop it.
”

Both Mason and Alan froze, Mason’s expression one of surprise while Alan’s could only be described as barely suppressed fury.

“You won’t shoot. Not when you might hit him,” he said.

“Don’t bet on it.”

Looking at the gun, at her confident stance, his gaze turned into a glare. He dropped the Taser, and Mason snatched it up before climbing off of his back.

“Don’t move,” Allie said, when he started to sit up. He wasn’t in uniform, but she didn’t know whether he might be wearing an ankle holster.

He raised his palms off the ground, his expression turning mocking. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Are you alright?” she said to Mason, not taking her eyes off of Alan.

Mason wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth where Alan’s elbow had caught him in the lip. His voice was chipper. “Never better.”

“Could you come get my phone out of my purse and call Will?”

“No need,” said a familiar voice from behind her, and Will, accompanied by officers Tolliver and Graves, came around the corner, firearms drawn.

“I have the oddest sense of déjà vu,” Mason said as he stepped further out of the way. And though the words were flippant, his normally clipped tone held just the slightest tremor.

Tolliver and Graves moved to cuff Alan, who – thank God – didn’t put up a fight.

“You can lower your firearm now,” Will murmured, and Allie glanced up to see him standing beside her. It was only when she met his gaze that her hands started to shake.

Will eased the gun from stiff fingers. “You did good, kid.”

“I… Alan… he –”

“Yeah, I know what Alan did,” he said, fiercely controlled fury flashing like blue lightning in his eyes.

He glanced at his co-worker, his friend, but Alan refused to look up.

“Allison?”

Allie turned to see that Mason had come up beside them. He opened his arms.

Allie threw herself into them.

“I’m going to need to talk to both of you, so don’t go anywhere,” Will said and she heard Mason murmur something affirmative in reply. His heart, much like hers, was thundering too loudly against her ear for her to make it out clearly.

Will moved away and Allie started to shake uncontrollably. Mason’s arms tightened around her.

“You were magnificent,” he whispered.

“I was terrified.”

“Magnificent,” he repeated. “Though part of me wishes you’d shot that bastard.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“A flesh wound,” he suggested.

“It wasn’t loaded.”

“What?”

“The gun wasn’t loaded.”

Mason considered that for a moment. “I recant my previous statement.”

This time she was the one who was confused. “What?”

“My previous statement,” he explained. Then he lifted her chin. “You, my darling.” He planted a firm kiss on her lips.  “Are one hell of an actress.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

WILL
sat in his car outside the very pretty yellow frame house, with its wrap around porch and green metal roof, and bright bursts of purple lantana spilling out of black planters on either side of the front door.  Several windows were open to catch the morning breeze.  A little blue bike leaned drunkenly against the trunk of the massive crape myrtle that added another profusion of color to the front yard.  A wagon – red, of course – filled with an assortment of balls and bright plastic guns and what looked like a very battered stuffed armadillo had been abandoned at the side of the drive.

And there, next to a row of wax myrtles, was a wooden doghouse with the word
Barney
painted in funky letters above the door.  

It was a really nice family home.  Welcoming. Lived in. Comfortable. 

Will sighed. And wondered for the hundredth time exactly how much of a role he’d played in shattering Camellia Campbell Abernathy’s world.

Alan – no big surprise – continued to refuse to answer any questions, but Will had managed to put most of it together nonetheless.

His jaw tightened as he thought of his former co-worker, former friend. Will’d spent the past year trying to… atone for the corruption he’d uncovered in the department when he’d taken over temporarily as acting Chief, only to realize that one of his most trusted associates was continuing the tradition of accepting bribes and payoffs right under Will’s nose.

So much for his vaunted powers of observation.

It started to become clear when he read the case reports. The rash of thefts had interestingly shifted outside his jurisdiction after Alan questioned a suspect meeting the description given by one of the victims. A description which included the mention of a large grim reaper tattoo on the man’s upper left arm.  It was right there in Alan’s notes, and yet he had claimed not to recognize the tattoo when Will’d shown it to him.

That in itself wouldn’t have been damning – memories could be short – except that when he’d done some further digging, it appeared that Alan’s financial situation seemed to have improved around that same time, despite the fact that he’d been embroiled in a bitter divorce. But because the Owen cousins weren’t exactly the type of criminal kingpins with pockets deep enough to warrant having a cop on the payroll, Will figured Alan had used the minnows to lead him to the bigger fish in the pond.

Tobias Abernathy.

Jimmy Owen knew Abernathy through his job at the auction warehouse, and it seemed the Owen cousins had been in the habit of procuring artifacts of questionable origin for the man’s highly profitable store.

It was only when they grew a little too bold and started acting up in Sweetwater again that it became a real problem for Alan. The night Will arrested Jimmy for beating up Tommy Culpepper, it was Alan who claimed that the other culprit had
gotten away.
And then Allie and Mason had almost literally stumbled over one or maybe both of the Owens in their attempt to disinter Eugene Hawbaker.

Will still wasn’t entirely sure whether or not Alan had had a hand in either of the Owen’s deaths, or if that had worked out exactly as he’d conjectured – that the two men had had an argument that resulted in Jimmy’s death, and then Brian had overdosed not long after.  All the evidence they had so far pointed to Brian Owen being alone in his campaign to harass Allie, most likely as a
fuck you
to Will – or even, possibly, to Alan.

And if that were the case, Will wouldn’t be surprised if Sheriff Jones eventually turned up evidence that Alan had indeed played a role in Owen’s death.  

That Alan took advantage of Brian Owen’s vendetta – as well as one of the credit cards the man had stolen – to create an opportunity to send Allie the flowers was no longer in doubt.  An interview with Wesley turned up the fact that Wesley had revealed the cause of the scuffle that night at Stage Left when Alan questioned him about it.

Whether Alan was trying to prevent a potential reconciliation between Allie and Wesley, or simply wanted to add fuel to the fire so that Will would pass off the investigation of the grave robbery and Jimmy Owen’s death to him in order to concentrate on Allie’s situation, they wouldn’t know unless Alan decided to start talking.

For Will’s money, he was betting on fueling the fire. Not that Alan hadn’t genuinely been interested in Allie, but Will suspected he was interested in saving his own ass a whole lot more. He had firsthand knowledge that Will tended to be like a dog with a bone when he got his teeth into a puzzling case. And what better way to distract him than to offer another bone – this one involving his sister.

One of the house’s double garage doors started going up, jerking Will’s attention back to his present surroundings. As he watched, Camellia, golden brown hair rioting wildly from a knot on top of her head, came into view carrying a cardboard box.

He’d heard through the grapevine that she was selling the house, moving back in with her parents for a little while. Because there was still some question over whether or not her husband may have started the fire intentionally – not to mention whether or not he may have intentionally caused his own death – Will suspected the insurance companies were balking. The home might be comfortable, but it was also big, situated on a prime piece of real estate overlooking the marsh, and if Will had to guess, quite expensive.

He doubted she’d be able to keep up with it on her teacher’s salary. 

Will sighed again. He felt like an asshole. Not to mention a voyeur.

The back hatch of a small silver SUV opened and she wrestled the box inside.

Forcing his leaden limbs to do his bidding, Will climbed out of the car.

“Camellia,” he said when he was within hearing range.

Cam swore with heartfelt creativity when she jumped and knocked her head on the hatch.