Anything but Mine (27 page)

“Come home with me.” Pulling back, he gazed at her, a fierce light in his eyes. “The boys ordered pizza. We’ll have dinner, spend some time with them—”

“I don’t want to intrude on your time with them.” She pressed a finger to his chin, wanting nothing more than to do as he asked. “They need you.”

“And they’ll have me.” He cradled her head, his body close enough that she could feel the fine tremors running through him. “I’ve been without you enough, Autry. Tomorrow, the funeral…I haven’t yet figured out how I’m going to get through that. I need you with me, starting tonight.”

She needed that too. Closing her eyes on a wave of tears, she nodded and he caught the small word that left her lips with his mouth.

“Yes.”

Small rays of sunlight peered through the overcast sky. Autry stared at the tiny white coffin on the green carpet. A spray of miniature pink roses covered the white wood. Her throat closed, one of the threatening tears spilled over her lashes, and she leaned against the strong chest behind her, grateful for the warm hands rubbing her arms.

The service was over, and yards away, Autry and Stanton’s friends and family members gathered at the handful of cars parked beneath the spreading oak trees. The hum of their low voices carried to Autry.

But she and Stanton were alone with their baby. Their little girl, waiting to be buried next to the grandfather she’d never known.

Autry closed her eyes, more of the tears seeping beneath her lashes. A sob tore from her chest, and Stanton tightened his arms about her, holding her close. Autry turned her head, pressing her cheek into the curve of his biceps.

“Stanton, I don’t want to leave her here.”

“I know.” He rested his chin on her head. “I don’t either.”

She cried harder, clinging to him. “I can’t do this.” No longer fighting the tears, she turned into his embrace, wrapping her arms about his waist and holding on. “I can’t bear it.”

“Sshh. You can.” He whispered the words close to her ear. “We can. Together.”

Eyes closed, weeping in broken sobs for all they’d lost, she nodded, cheek rubbing against the soft cotton of his shirt. She’d get through this. They’d get through this.

Long minutes later, when she’d finally cried herself out in his arms, he led her away toward the waiting cars, one arm strong about her waist. She rested her head against him.

Back at the courthouse area, she knew the recovery operation was still ongoing, and his departmental duties didn’t go away merely because of their personal loss. His presence would be required elsewhere.

“You have to get back, don’t you?”

He stopped, spun her to face him, rubbed his thumb over her cheekbone. “Do you think I’d leave you now?”

She gazed up at him, taking his face in her hands. “I think you have an important job and a county that needs you.”

“You need me.”

“I do,” she said simply, letting her fingertips slide over his warm skin. “But I was raised from day one to understand that duty comes first, remember? Besides, I’m sure the boys are ready to get away from here. Go on. I’m going to spend some time with Mama and I know you have a lot to do.”

His cheeks puffed a little under a long exhale. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. She wanted something to keep her mind busy; dealing with her mama definitely was one way to do that.

He frowned a minute before he gave in. “All right. I’ll meet up with Renee so she can take them home, then head to the courthouse. If I’m on site, Cookie can take some time. He’s been over there for nearly two days.”

A solemn smile touched her mouth. Oh yes, she knew him better than he realized. One part of his mind was always,
always
focused on his department, his men, his duty.

“How about I run you over to your mom’s—”

“No, thank you. You can take me back to my house for my car and I’ll drive over there.” He opened his mouth to protest and she shook her head. “Stanton, it’s one thing to go spend time with my mother. It’s another to not have an escape route if she starts.”

He looked only marginally convinced—brows lowered in a slight frown, his mouth a taut line. “Fine, but promise me you’ll be careful.”

She leaned up to kiss him, wanting to wrap him close and not let go, knowing part of loving him was doing exactly that. “I promise.”

“Falconetti, what are you doing here?” Four hours later, dusty and dog-tired, Stanton stopped on his way through to his temporary office and eyed her. She stood at the table in the middle of the makeshift squad room, biting her lip in concentration, tapping her designer shoe on the tile floor, rifling through one of Tick’s banker boxes. “Don’t you ever work?”

“I am working, Reed.” She didn’t look up, flipping a file open, discarding it, reaching for another.

“You don’t work here.”

“Thank God.” She lifted her head, a rueful smile curving her bottom lip. “Sorry. I shouldn’t give you the bitch treatment today of all days.”

“Don’t do me any favors. Makes me nervous when you’re nice to me.” He spread his hands, almost grateful for the distraction sparring with her gave him. “Let me reiterate: what are you doing?”

“Tick lifted my personal notes on the Schaefer case and I need them.”

“Why? And why not just ask him for them?”

She fixed him with a look. “McMillian wants to see them. And I can’t ask him because he’s not here. Cookie ran him out to Lawson Automotive to pick up his truck. You know there’s no cell service between here and there.” She made a frustrated sound, staring down at the box with its alphabetical dividers. “I do not get the way he organizes his things.”

Stanton rolled his eyes. “Your notes, right?”

“Yes.”

He leaned forward, flipped through two sections and withdrew the folder tucked behind the “P” tab. She took it, opened it, looked up at him with her elegant brows lowered in a small frown. “How did you…never mind.”

“You’re welcome.”

She ran her fingers over the file, her expression troubled. “Reed? I’m truly sorry, about the baby, for your and Autry’s loss.”

He darted a look at her. She would understand how the aching emptiness felt, had weathered her own version alone for months. The grief grabbed his throat and he swallowed hard. “Me too, but thanks.”

“I should get out of here.” She dropped her gaze to the folder once more, flipping through the pages within. With a wry twist to her lips, she shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

“What?”

“A whole page of notes on Keith Lawson, whether he made a logical suspect in the Schaefer murders or not.”

“Not,” Tick said, closing the door behind him as he entered. He jerked his chin in Stanton’s direction before stopping at Falconetti’s side to drop a kiss on her cheek and read over her shoulder. “He’s not smart enough.”

“Yes, I know that, now.” She closed the file. “He’s a more logical candidate for my profile on Autry’s stalker…” Her voice trailed away and she stiffened, her gaze lifting to Stanton’s. “Oh my God.”

He stared back, senses going on the alert, instincts starting to scream. “What are you thinking?”

She spun to the table. “Tick, the diary, Amy’s diary. Where is it?”

“Right here.” Tick leaned over to slide it from the brown paper evidence bag. The hair lifted on Stanton’s nape at the urgency crackling off her. “What is it?”

“There’s an entry, back in March. Amy had sex with Keith at some party, referred to it as a pity fuck.”

“Okay.” Tick shrugged. “But why is that important?”

“Because.” Stanton ticked it off in his head, a sick feeling settling in his belly. “That’s about twelve weeks, isn’t it?”

Falconetti flicked a look at him. “Exactly.”

Tick’s brows lowered. “You think Keith is the father of that baby?”

“It doesn’t matter if he is or not.” Falconetti turned over several pages. “What matters is whether or not Keith believes he might be. It was in the newspapers, how far advanced Amy’s pregnancy was. He may not be the brightest bulb in the socket, but even he’s capable of doing the math.”

Stanton watched her. “You think it’s him?”

“I think if I were you, I’d want to talk to him.” She ran her finger down a page and handed the diary off to Tick. “See? And when I interviewed him the day of Amy’s funeral, he was insistent they’d been close, wanted my assurance that the person who’d killed her would be found.”

“If he figured later, once the word about her pregnancy got out, that he might be the father of that baby, that his baby had been killed too…” Tick’s mouth firmed. “Hell, he might just be off kilter enough to want to get back at Autry for defending Schaefer.”

“Transference. Displaced revenge,” Falconetti said. “He can’t get at Schaefer, but he could make Autry afraid.”

“So fear is his intent.” Stanton tried to still the unease shivering down his back. “You don’t think he’d attempt to hurt her.”

“Statistically, most stalkers never go beyond the stalking behavior, but…” She shrugged, a small lifting of one shoulder that reeked of frustration. “I can’t give you any guarantees, Reed.”

“Falconetti, I want you to be the one who interviews him.”

“Are you—”

“I’m sure.” Stanton swallowed a harsh growl and tugged his keys from his pocket. “Tick, come on, let’s run out to Lawson’s garage—”

“Won’t do you any good,” Tick said. “I just came from there, remember? Mike was pitching a bitch because the boy took off in the wrecker and won’t answer the radio.”

Falconetti shifted her gaze from him to Stanton, and what he saw in her eyes made his veins ice over. The line of her throat moved and she passed the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip. “Reed, I think you should call Autry. Find out where she is.”

He was one step ahead of her, cell phone already in hand, hitting two for Autry’s speed dial. It rang repeatedly, stretching his nerves, and finally her voice mail picked up. Phone at his ear, her lyrical voice directing him to leave a message, he shook his head at Tick. “Call her mama’s for me, would you? See if she’s there.” He waited for the tone as Tick pulled his own cell from its clip. “Autry, baby, it’s Stan. I need you to call me, ASAP.”

He slapped the phone closed. She had to be at her mother’s. Had to be.

“How long ago did she leave?” Tick’s dark eyes met Stanton’s and he shook his head. “Are you sure? Did she say where she was going? Thanks, Miss Miranda. You too. Bye now.” He disconnected. “Left her mama’s about ten minutes ago. Said she was going back out to the cemetery for a while.”

Stanton was already moving toward the door, the unease and his screaming instincts still dogging him. “I’m going out there.”

“Want me to ride along?” Tick asked.

“No, I’d rather you two tracked down Keith Lawson. I want to know the little son of a bitch is nowhere near Autry.”

Oh, this was unbelievable.

Autry watched the gauges flicker wildly on her dash once more. Ten miles from her mother’s, five miles from the cemetery, and her car was acting up again.

The oil light flashed at her, blinked, stayed lit.

Maybe she’d be lucky and the engine would even out like last time.

An ominous knocking filled the car and it lost power once more. Great. It wasn’t going to cooperate. Autry muttered a curse, and the engine knocked hard, stuttering, before shuddering to a complete halt. With the power steering gone, she swung the wheel and let the car coast to a stop on the shoulder.

She rested her head on the wheel and let out a frustrated growl. Not today, of all days. Her emotions were still too close to the surface and she regretted sending Stanton back to work. She’d needed him with her, needed his steady presence to stave off the waves of grief buffeting her. Going to her mother’s had been a bad idea too—making the jittery feeling inside worse until finally Autry had escaped, going where her baby was, if just for a little while.

After another murmured curse, she lifted her head and sighed. “C’mon, Autry, it could be worse. You’re less than a mile from the main highway and you should have a cellular signal. You can call for help.”

Grabbing her cell, she flipped it open and hit her mother’s speed dial. The little envelope indicating a waiting message swirled next to her signal strength indicator. Obviously she’d missed a call while coming through the cellular black hole between her mama’s and the highway. She tapped a finger on the wheel and waited through ten rings. Madeline and Mama must be outside, probably on the back porch. Why wouldn’t her mama give in and buy an answering machine? She had to be the last person in Chandler County without one.

Autry blew out a frustrated breath. Now who to call? She really didn’t want to pull Stanton away from the recovery site. Nate was out of the question. Was it Tick’s scheduled day off? Maybe—

An engine rumbled to a stop behind her and she looked up. In her rearview mirror, yellow lights flashed atop a familiar red wrecker. One of the Lawson men. Exactly what she needed. Still holding her cell phone, she pushed open the door and stepped out.

The wrecker door slammed and Keith Lawson approached, smiling. He removed his cap and scratched the top of his head. “Having a little trouble, Ms. Holton?”