“Plausible deniability.”
Jaci gave a resigned shake of her head. She was wasting her breath. Rylan Cooper was determined to make up for not believing her years ago. Now he was willing to go to any lengths he deemed necessary to protect her.
“What did he find out?” she asked, giving in to the inevitable.
“Griff discovered who is renting the old Johnson house,” he said.
“Who?”
“A Vera Richardson.”
Jaci searched her memory. She’d had a fourth-grade teacher named Mrs. Robinson. The older woman had carried a ruler that she used to smack students on the back of the head when they misbehaved during class. But she couldn’t remember a Richardson.
“I don’t recognize the name.”
“Probably because she’s dead.”
Jaci sent her companion a puzzled glance. Was he joking?
“A dead woman is renting the house?”
A smile flickered around his lips, although his expression remained somber.
“More than likely someone stole her identity after she died.”
Jaci grimaced. There was nothing unusual about identity theft, but actually renting a home and pretending to be a dead woman? Yikes.
“Why would someone use a fake name to rent a rundown house in the middle of nowhere?”
“Where better to hide?”
She couldn’t argue. It was difficult to imagine anyone searching for a missing person in this remote area.
“A criminal?” she suggested.
“I intend to find out.”
She pulled the Jeep to a halt and put it in park before she was swiveling in her seat to confront him with a deep scowl.
“No.”
He arched a brow. “No?”
She ignored the hardening of his jaw. The mere thought of him going out to confront some stranger who might be a desperate felon was enough to give her a rash.
“It could be dangerous,” she said. “I’ll call Mike and have him check it out.”
His eyes narrowed. “Was that a deliberate kick below the belt, or a lucky hit?”
Jaci sensed she’d struck a nerve. Male pride? The strange competition with Mike?
She didn’t really care. All that mattered was keeping Rylan safe.
“It’s the sheriff’s job, not yours.” She pounced on the most reasonable excuse to keep Rylan away from the house. “If Mike finds the person living there is hiding from the law he can arrest them. If they see you, they might take off.” She deliberately paused. “Or shoot.”
“Hmm.” He didn’t look impressed with her logic.
“Promise me you won’t go over there,” she urged.
He unbuckled his seat belt. “I promise I’ll share the information with O’Brien.”
She shook her head. This man took stubborn to a whole new level.
“Anything else?” she asked.
There was a short pause. Almost as if he was considering whether or not to share what his partner had learned.
“I don’t know where Christopher has been the past couple of years, but it wasn’t attending Washington University,” he at last said.
Jaci jerked in surprise. First at the knowledge that he’d included her half brother in his investigation. She’d told him that Christopher never visited her house. Then, at the fact that her half brother hadn’t been attending Wash U.
“I don’t understand.”
He gave a lift of his shoulder, his expression impossible to read.
“The school doesn’t have any record of Christopher ever taking classes there.”
“You’re sure?”
Genuine amusement flared through his golden eyes. “Griff doesn’t make mistakes.”
She believed him, but it still didn’t make any sense.
“I’m sure Mother told me that he was at Wash U, but maybe she said St. Louis University.”
He was shaking his head before she ever finished her sentence.
“He hasn’t attended any college in the state of Missouri.”
“I—” She cut off her protest. Her feelings toward Rylan might be a jumbled mess, but she trusted his skill in snooping into other people’s business. “Why would Mother tell everyone he was going to school?”
He shrugged. “Maybe we should ask her.”
A disbelieving laugh was wrenched from Jaci’s lips. He clearly hadn’t dealt with Loreen Hamilton. Or if he had, he’d forgotten that she was a daunting, ice-cold woman who considered herself above most mere mortals.
“Good luck with that,” she said.
He studied her with a curious gaze. “What do you mean?”
“My mother has a talent for deflecting questions she doesn’t want to answer,” she told him. Questions like why the older woman had walked away from her own daughter. And if she’d ever loved Jaci’s father. And if she intended to spend the rest of her life pretending Jaci didn’t exist. “I’ve learned not to even bother.”
Easily sensing her reluctance to approach her mother, Rylan reached out to run a finger along the line of her jaw.
“There’s other ways to search for the truth,” he assured her.
Her mouth went dry as his finger continued down the curve of her neck, his touch branding a path of electric excitement. Holy cow. How long had it been since she’d felt a man’s hands on her body?
Clearly too long.
“Your friend Griff?” she managed to ask.
His lips twitched, his gaze lowering to linger on the swell of her breasts beneath her Mizzou Tigers sweatshirt.
“I have a few skills of my own.”
Her heart fluttered, an aching need pooling in the pit of her stomach.
“So you keep telling me,” she breathed.
His eyes darkened with a sensual promise. “I’m happy to demonstrate.”
Heated awareness spiced the air, making Jaci’s palms sweat. For a crazed second she actually swayed toward him, as if she intended to kiss him.
Then, with awkward movements, she was unbuckling her belt and jumping out of the Jeep. On cue, the sullen clouds opened up to drench her in a chilled rain.
It was better than a cold shower.
Dammit. It wasn’t fair.
He had risen early. So early that it’d been pitch black when he’d left his home and driven to the wooded area just across the road from Jaci’s house.
He told himself that he wanted to check on the camera that he’d hidden inside a fake trail cam. No one would give it a second glance. Not when the area was used by hunters. Still, he’d been in a rush to get it up yesterday, and he wanted to make sure it wasn’t visible from the road.
But the truth was that he wanted an up close and personal view of Jaci this morning.
Was she still rattled?
Would she creep onto the porch to see if there was another locket?
Or would she stay locked in her house, waiting for another gift from him?
Hidden in the bushes, he’d watched as she had at last peeked out the door, clearly looking for a locket. Then she’d started her routine of carrying out the trays of food, her head swiveling from side to side as she searched for a hidden intruder.
He’d become instantly hard.
Despite her best efforts, her fear was a tangible force in the air.
It was exquisite.
Even better than it’d been watching in the secrecy of his cabin.
This was so much more . . . real.
And then everything had gone to hell.
His hand had barely wrapped around his aching erection when the truck had pulled into the driveway and Rylan Cooper had stepped out.
Talk about ruining a mood.
This was why he hated doing things in a hurry.
He hadn’t planned on creating a locket. At least not for a few more months. He had, after all, just sated his lust six weeks before. The woman he’d chosen had lived miles and miles away. Far enough not to arouse suspicion. But while she’d offered the usual smorgasbord of
emotions—confusion followed by horror followed by a wide-eyed terror—it’d been less than fulfilling. Just like all of them. Only Jaci could inspire the joy that filled his body until he thought it might burst.
But having indulged so recently meant that he hadn’t been prepared.
It had all been too hurried. Too lacking in the dignity he tried to offer the women who performed such a vital necessity in his life.
Granted, the video of Jaci discovering the locket had provided him hours of pleasure. Over and over he’d watched as her face had whitened with terror before she’d fallen into a dead faint.
She was so much better than any of his other obsessions.
But his haste had meant he’d screwed up his meticulous schedule.
He’d been forced to snatch a new sacrifice without the pleasure of hunting for the perfect martyr. He wanted a sacrifice that was perfectly selected after weeks of research. This one had merely been convenient. Then he’d hurriedly prepared the locket without giving it the care it deserved before rushing to Jaci’s house to place it on her door. And finally, he’d arranged the camera to catch every precious moment, but that was never the same as watching in person.
To make matters worse, his inability to use his usual, meticulous care had aroused the interest of both the sheriff and Rylan Cooper.
The sheriff he was confident he could mislead. His experience with lawmen had proven they weren’t very smart. Not to mention the fact they were always eager to take the easy way out.
Drop a few bread crumbs in the wrong direction and O’Brien would be chasing shadows for the next decade.
Rylan Cooper, on the other hand . . .
He might prove to be a problem.
Which meant he had to go. One way or another.
Chapter Ten
Jaci hurried into the kitchen of the Bird’s Nest with Rylan a few steps behind, carrying the tray of muffins. As soon as she caught sight of Birdie’s raised brows she realized she’d made a serious error.
If Jaci hadn’t been so rattled, she would have told Rylan to wait for her in the Jeep.
Now it was too late.
Hastily unloading the muffins, she swallowed a curse as Rylan strolled through the kitchen. He nodded toward a stunned Birdie and her helper before he was moving through the door that led into the outer dining room.
Great. Just great.
“Morning, Jaci,” Birdie said, moving to stand at Jaci’s side.
“Hey, Birdie.” Jaci could feel the older woman’s gaze burning a hole in the back of her bent head. “I added a few extra muffins. I assumed you would have a full house today.”
“You assumed right,” Birdie said. “They were lined up before I even unlocked the door.”
Jaci lifted her head to glance through the opening into the dining room, not at all surprised to see it packed despite the early hour. It was rare that anything exciting happened in the small town. The discovery of a body was going to have people buzzing for days.
Not that they were currently buzzing. Instead a silence had filled the room as the tables of men sent speculative glances toward Rylan before craning their necks to see into the kitchen.
Rolling her eyes, she forced herself to meet Birdie’s broad smile.
“Is there any news?” she asked.
Birdie shrugged, wiping her hands on her apron. “Nothing more than gossip.”
Right now gossip was preferable to the intrusive questions that were hovering on the older woman’s lips.
“What are they saying?”
The older woman hesitated, clearly aware Jaci was trying to divert her attention.
“Most believe the floods disturbed a graveyard and carried the bodies down the river,” she at last revealed. “There are a few who are saying that Heron is a dumping ground for the mob.” She gave a soft chuckle. “They’ve all watched The Godfather movies too many times. Of course, that’s not as ridiculous as those who are convinced that we have a serial killer. Might as well say that it was aliens.”
Jaci flinched at her teasing words. Why was it so hard for the locals to believe they might have a murderer walking among them?
It wasn’t like they were living in some sort of paradise that was without sin.
Still, she knew better than to say anything.
Until they discovered exactly what was going on it was probably best to keep her fears to herself.
“What about Mike?” she cautiously probed. “Has he said anything?”
Birdie moved to unlock a drawer next to the fridge, pulling out an envelope before she turned to hand it to Jaci.
“I haven’t seen anything of the sheriff or Sid this morning.”
Folding the envelope in half, Jaci shoved it into her back pocket.
“Thanks, Birdie,” she said, pivoting to head out of the diner to her Jeep.
“Wait,” the older woman commanded.
Jaci glanced over her shoulder. “Did I forget something?”
Birdie snorted. “You’re not leaving this kitchen without telling me what’s going on with the gorgeous Rylan.”
Jaci tensed, her gaze flicking toward the tall, golden-haired man who was ending his conversation with two high school friends so he could turn back toward the kitchen.
“Nothing’s going on,” she lied, her gaze locked on Rylan as he headed directly toward her.
Her heart skittered. Birdie was right. He was gorgeous. And sexy.
Indecently sexy.
“Do I look like I was born yesterday?” Birdie demanded.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Jaci said.
Birdie glanced toward the approaching Rylan before returning her attention to Jaci.
“When I see a man and woman together at this hour I figure they spent the night together.”
“You figure wrong.” Jaci was able to answer with full honesty.
Birdie tilted her head to the side. “Then why are you blushing?”
Was she blushing? She resisted the urge to reach up and touch her cheeks.
“Elmer was worried about the muddy roads and he guilted Rylan into helping me with my deliveries. You know, in case I got stuck,” she said in a rush.
Birdie lifted her brows. “Stuck, huh?”
Belatedly realizing she was only making it worse, she pinned a stiff smile to her lips as she whirled toward the back door.
“I gotta go. See you tomorrow.”
Birdie said something, but Jaci plowed out of the kitchen and climbed into her Jeep, slamming shut the door as she reached to crank up the heat.
A second later Rylan was in the seat beside her, his eyes narrowed.
“Now what has your panties in a twist?”
She put the motor in gear, pulling out of the alley. “Everyone in that restaurant is speculating whether or not you spent the night with me.”
He reached over, pulling the seat belt she’d forgotten across her body and snapping it into the lock.
“Does it matter?” he asked, his lips brushing her ear.
Heat streaked through her. Oh Lord. Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe . . .
No, no, no.
She wasn’t going to be sucked into making a fool of herself. Not again.
“Of course it matters,” she said, turning onto Main Street, heading toward the nearby highway. “You might be able to fly off to California, but I live here.”
He chuckled at her prim reprimand. “This isn’t the seventeenth century, Jaci.”
“Sometimes it feels like it,” she breathed. In truth, a small town could make a young woman fear that she was being slowly smothered.
Still, there was nowhere else she wanted to be.
“Jaci, you’re an adult, unattached woman, and I’m an unattached man,” he said, his voice edged with impatience. “Why shouldn’t we enjoy spending time together?”
She shot a covert glance toward him as she halted at the stop sign. Was he really unattached? What about the pretty blonde clinging to his arm in the glossy magazine article?
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Then she gave a sharp shake of her head. Argh. What was wrong with her?
“You’ve clearly forgotten what it’s like to live in a small town,” she said, turning onto the highway and pressing her foot on the gas pedal.
Perhaps sensing she wasn’t in the mood to be convinced that they should indulge in some raw, meaningless sex before he hurried back to his expensive condo on the beach, Rylan settled back in his seat.
Neither spoke as she drove to Baldwin, both lost in their thoughts. But he was first out of the Jeep when she arrived at the tea shop, carrying in the tray of tarts despite her protests. And then again at the corner restaurant where she delivered several loaves of bread to tide them over the weekend.
He even insisted on following her to pick out the fresh veggies and herbs that she bought at a local farmer’s market.
They were loading the produce in the back of her Jeep when a flash of platinum-blond hair caught Jaci’s eye.
Straightening, she turned to watch as her half sister pushed a cart from the nearby grocery store across the parking lot.
“What the heck?” she breathed in shock.
Rylan swiftly moved to stand at her side. “What’s wrong?”
She nodded toward the pretty woman who was wearing a Burberry raincoat and carrying a Michael Kors handbag as she struggled to steer the cart.
She looked as out of place as an exotic bird in a corn-field.
“Payton,” she said.
A portion of Rylan’s tension eased. “You didn’t know she was in town?”
Jaci released a sharp laugh. “It’s not that. I assume she spends a lot of time in town.”
“Then why the surprise?”
“I didn’t realize she knew what a grocery store was, let alone how to find it.” She abruptly frowned as a memory teased at the edge of her mind. “Oh.”
Rylan sent her a questioning glance. “Jaci?”
“Mike asked me if I’d seen Anne yesterday.”
“Anne?”
“Anne Dixon. My mother’s housekeeper,” she clarified, her gaze latched onto Payton as the woman halted, glancing around as if she’d forgotten where she’d parked. Or more likely she was waiting for fairies to magically show up and unload her groceries. “I wonder if she quit.”
“Actually, I’m more interested in what Payton knows about her brother,” he said. “Why don’t we ask her?”