Cowboy Famous: Book 4 (Cowboy Justice Association) (12 page)

“We want to make sure there’s nothing we missed,” replied Griffin, settling himself on the oatmeal colored sofa with only slightly darker throw pillows. “We appreciate you speaking with us today.”

Margaret folded her hands in her lap and waited for their questions. At forty years old, she was an attractive woman with short auburn hair and a trim figure. Her face was carefully made up with a skillful hand and her clothes were stylish but as bland as the living room. It was almost as if the woman wanted to fade into the background of life wearing earth tones.

“I am tired after working all day,” she said pointedly. “If we could get this over with I would be glad.”

“As I said we appreciate your cooperation.” Griffin nodded toward Jazz. “This young woman is Jazz Oliver, one of my deputies in training. We’re both going to be asking you a few questions.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed and her cheeks turned pink. “I’ve heard about the reality show being filmed in town.” Her hands seem to flutter around and finally landed on the sofa cushions. “You’re not filming this, are you?”

“No. We’re not filming or recording,” Griffin assured her. She seemed somewhat mollified but still nervous.

Griffin nodded for Jazz to begin. Taking a deep breath, she steadied her voice and tried to control her madly beating heart. This was worse than opening night jitters.

“Mrs. Charlock, when you gave your statement to the police you said that Casey and Buddy had broken up. Were they in contact with each other at all?”

“Not that I know of, but Casey was an adult and I didn’t interfere in her life.” Margaret shook her head but her right hand had swung up to cover the base of her throat. “She had lots of boyfriends. I didn’t pay much attention, honestly.”

That statement caught Griffin’s attention apparently. “Was she dating anyone else at the same time she was dating Buddy? Or afterward?”

The woman’s hand stayed right where it was giving Jazz a front row seat to a woman who just might be lying. She at least felt vulnerable. Her body language was screaming it even if she didn’t verbally say it.

“She dated a lot,” Margaret insisted. “There were always boys hanging around. I didn’t get all of their names.”

“She dated someone after Buddy?” Jazz asked, watching the woman closely.

“I really don’t know for sure.” Margaret shook her head but her gaze was darting around the room as if she didn’t want to look them in the eye. “My daughter lived her own life.”

Anger churned in Jazz’s gut at the indifferent statement from the clearly non-grieving mother.

“She was nineteen,” Jazz snapped. “Still a teenager. I doubt she
lived her own life
by choice. She was a young girl who needed her mother.”

Margaret’s mouth fell open and a cold expression crossed her face. “Are you questioning my parenting? Who do you think you are?” the woman said frostily.

If Griffin had any ideas about halting this line of questioning, Jazz never gave him a chance. She was too far gone to remember his instructions despite the warning bells ringing in her own ears.

“I’m someone who understands your daughter, that’s who. She was
nineteen
, Mrs. Charlock. Not far from a child and she lived under your roof. Are you saying you have no idea what she did the last few days of her life? That you haven’t given it any thought since she died?”

“That’s enough, Jazz,” Griffin cut in, his voice sharp and commanding. Her voice died but the righteous anger she’d felt was still stirring inside. The back of her neck was hot and she could hear her pulse pound as if someone with a snare drum was sitting and playing in this colorless living room.

“I’m sorry about Ms. Oliver, Margaret. She’s still in training and can get carried away. Please continue. We appreciate your understanding.”

Jazz doubted Margaret Charlock appreciated anything about them at the moment. Her face had turned a peculiar shade of purple, probably with anger, and her shoulders seemed to shake.

She jumped to her feet and went over by the sliding glass doors to look out, ignoring both of them. Griffin’s lips had formed a grim line and Jazz knew she was in for an ass chewing when they left. She’d done the opposite of what he’d asked but being friends with this woman simply wasn’t something she was capable of doing.

“The last day I saw Casey she said she wanted me to meet someone. A new boyfriend.” Margaret’s fingers plucked at her strand of pearls, her body turned away from them. “I don’t remember his name, if she ever told me, which is why I never mentioned it before. What’s the point? You can’t find someone without a name. I don’t even know what he looks like.” She finally turned toward them, her expression mutinous. Whatever small cooperation they’d had at the beginning was long gone. “Now I’d like you to leave.”

Griffin stood, pulling Jazz up with him, his hand under her elbow. She could feel the tension in his frame as they stood side by side. “Thank you, Margaret. We appreciate the help and we’ll call if we have any more questions.”

“Do that,” she replied, her tone brittle. “But I doubt we have anything more to discuss. Let my daughter rest in peace, Sheriff.”

“That’s exactly what I aim to do, ma’am.”

Griffin tipped his hat and guided Jazz to the door so quickly she almost stumbled trying to keep up. The door swung shut behind them and they walked silently to the end of the driveway where a patrol car waited, complete with Deputy Adam as a driver. Griffin hustled her inside the vehicle and it smoothly pulled away from the curb. Once they were away from the house, Griffin turned to her, his expression stormy.

Uh oh.

“What in the hell were you doing back there? What were you thinking?”

Boy, did he sound pissed. Mental note. Don’t upset the sheriff.

“I was thinking she was a lousy mother. And she was lying. I could tell.”

“You could tell,” he repeated. “You’re some expert in lying as well as an actress?”

She ignored his sarcasm.

“She was being evasive. As an actress I study body language, and when a person does this,” Jazz placed her hand over her throat. “That means they feel the need to protect themselves. They’re worried about something. They could be lying.”

“She was lying when she said she didn’t know anything,” he admitted but didn’t look all that damn happy about it.

“Exactly! I helped.”

Griffin shook his head grimly. “Helped? I’m not sure I’d call it that. You had some dumb luck. It could easily have gone another way, Jazz.”

“But it didn’t,” she insisted. “I may not have done what you said but it worked. Admit it.”

“I admit nothing,” Griffin retorted, frustration in his tone. “You better hope that this lead pans out because after what you pulled in there she will never – I repeat – never speak to us again. On or off the record. Shit, Jazz. It’s not just this, can’t you see? What if we’d been in a dangerous situation? You need to listen to me and do what I tell you. Failure could get you killed. As in dead.”

Shit, now she felt kind of crappy. She’s been too emotional to think logically.

“So you guys got a lead in the case?” Deputy Adam’s question broke in to the conversation and let Jazz off the hook from responding to Griffin.

“Kind of. We need to do some more digging.” Apparently Griffin was done chewing her out and was now tapping a note into his phone. He barely spared a glance for his deputy. “We need to talk to Casey’s friends again. If anyone knows the guy’s name it will be one of her girlfriends.”

“So there was another guy?” Adam persisted. “But you don’t know his name? That’s too bad.”

Griffin scowled at Adam and then returned his attention to his phone. “A temporary setback. Drop us at the station, okay?”

“Sure, boss. The station. This sure is exciting. A lead in a cold case.”

“Can you just drop me at the hotel?” she asked Adam with a smile.

“No, take us to the station,” Griffin contradicted. “We’re not done yet, Jazz.”

He wanted to yell at her some more? Delightful.

“I’m kind of hungry–” she began.

“Don’t worry, I’ll feed you,” he answered smoothly. “We have a lot to discuss.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Jazz knew exactly what the sexy sheriff wanted to talk about. She’d revealed just a bit too much when questioning Margaret Charlock and now she was going to pay the price.

Whoever said the truth hurts had really hit the nail on the head.

Chapter Eleven

J
azz’s stomach growled at the intoxicating smell of tomatoes, cheese, and garlic. With barely a word directed toward her, Griffin had picked up his old truck at the station, bundled her in it, stopped off at the only pizza joint in Hope Lake for some takeout, and he was now driving down the main road out of town. Not wanting to rock the boat further, Jazz hadn’t asked any questions about where they were going or what they were doing.

At least he was planning to feed her before he killed her.

Pulling off the main drag, Griffin drove slowly down a dark dirt road, the truck jostling her with every dip and pothole. She was just about to ask him where the hell he was taking her when they pulled into a clearing with a darling log cabin at the center. The porch was lit up along with a lamp in the front window.

“How cute,” she exclaimed. “Who does this belong to?”

“Me,” he answered shortly, grabbing the pizza from the backseat and making a beeline for the house. She pushed open the truck door, muttering under her breath about gentlemanly behavior and stubborn cowboy cops. At the top of the porch stairs, he stopped and whirled around, a frown on his handsome face.

“Did you say something?”

“Uh, no.” Jazz shook her head, trying to hide a smile. “Must have been the crickets.”

“Right,” he snorted and turned back to open the door, switching on a few more lights as he walked to the back of the large room where the kitchen was located.

“You don’t lock your door?” she asked, following close on his heels.

For the first time in hours he smiled. “Who’s going to break into the sheriff’s house?”

“Someone stupid?”

He laughed as he pulled a stack of paper plates out of a cabinet. “They’d have to be. I’ve got cameras all over the place. I can see what’s going on here from my laptop or phone at every minute of the day.”

“Paranoid much?”

“Just realistic. My siblings sometimes like to drop in unannounced to go fishing. This way I know what I’m coming home to.”

“How many siblings do you have?”

She accepted the two cans of soda he’d pulled from the refrigerator and followed him as he pushed open the sliding glass door to what appeared to be a back deck.

“Nine. Have a seat.”

He’d flipped a switch and the large back patio was illuminated with what seemed like a thousand twinkle lights. To her shock, the back of the house overlooked a huge lake that shimmered under the moon and the lamps. It was absolutely beautiful and she sunk down into a chair at the table for six and drank in the peace. There was no sound but a few crickets and the croaking of a frog.

“This is gorgeous but, holy shit, I had no idea there was a lake back here. If the lights were off I could have just walked right into the water without realizing it. I might have drowned.”

“I think you’re being a tad dramatic.” Griffin opened the pizza box and nudged it towards her so she could go first.

Maybe he was more of a gentleman than she’d given him credit for earlier.

Pulling two pieces from the large pie, she bit into the slice and hummed with pleasure. Good pizza.

Griffin smiled at her approval and helped himself to a couple of slices. “The guy that owns the pizza place really knows his stuff, doesn’t he?”

She nodded in agreement and they ate in silence until their stomachs were full. Popping open her root beer, she sat back in her chair with a satisfied sigh.

“So you have nine siblings. What was that like?”

She’d always wanted a brother or sister. It would have been nice to have the company, almost like a built-in best friend.

Griffin took a swig of his own soda. “Crowded and loud. There was never enough of anything. Space, food, money, toilet paper. Nothing. It was an economics lesson in the scarcity of resources.”