The New Deputy in Town
Автор
B. J. Daniels
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THIS NEW DEPUTY DIDN'T EXPECT HIS FIRST CASE TO INVOLVE A WEDDING AND A FUNERAL. Deputy Sheriff Nick Rogers found out small-town life meant adjusting to two things — gossips and Laney Cavanaugh. And neither was much help in solving a bridal shower murder. Some days it appeared like everyone in Whitehorse had a secret — including their new lawman. And falling for Laney wasn't a good way to maintain a low profile. Nick might have been new to Whitehorse, but he wasn't above getting his hands dirty. Even if everybody in Laney's family had it in for the victim, and they were fixing for a fight. Wedding bells were always trouble, and, unfortunately, trouble always had a way of hunting Nick down.
Chapter One
Her hand trembled as she opened the closet to find the baseball bat where she’d hidden it in the very back corner. After last time, she’d considered getting rid of the bat. Instead, she’d wiped off the splattering of blood as best she could and kept it.
She wasn’t stupid. She watched CSI and all the other forensics television shows. She knew about blood splatters, about DNA, about trace evidence.
But she also knew it wouldn’t be good to change anything. Ritual, she knew, was important. It should always be a Saturday night. She should always wear the same blue dress she’d worn the first time. She should always use the old baseball bat she’d found.
“I thought you were going out with friends?” called a voice from the living room. She could hear the TV. One of those reality shows was on. “It’s getting kind of late though to be going now, isn’t it?”
She bit down on her irritation. She was sick of being told what to do. Sick of other people’s expectations for her. She put the bat on the bed and reached for her blue dress. There was one little blood spot along the hem that she’d had trouble getting out. She frowned, worried that even one spot might be enough to change things. To ruin the routine. To jinx her.
She worried at the spot for a moment. Maybe she shouldn’t go into town tonight. But it was Saturday. There would be a band at one of the bars. There would be men who would get drunk and want to dance with her.
She thought of the smell of them, the feel of their sweaty hands on the blue dress, the sound of their breathing as they pressed themselves against her.
She put on the dress and picked up the bat. A woman on TV was gagging loudly as if unable to swallow something revolting.
She went out the back door, letting it slam. It was Saturday night. She was wearing her blue dress. She had the bat. And wouldn’t some man be surprised tonight.
