The Blade Brothers of Cougar County

She had been praying he wouldn’t show up. It was hard enough keeping herself together in the presence of strangers, of people who didn’t know her, who hadn’t seen her without the protective armor of clothing. Hadn’t held her during the most vulnerable moments experienced by a woman.

The warm rush of heat hit her cheeks at the same time that cold dread settled at her core.

“Hello, Lexie.” There was an edge to his voice that had also been absent during their last conversation.

She offered a tight smile and a brief nod, but decided to wait before saying anything. At least he wasn’t pretending they were strangers. It would have been even more awkward if he had.

He motioned for her to sit. “I know you’ve already answered a lot of questions for Detective Fitz, but I need to ask you a few more.”

She slowly sank onto the bench. Instead of also sitting, as she’d expected, Jack crossed to where the coffeepot remained nearly full. He was dressed in a suit. Had he been out on a date? Had he sat across from a beautiful woman tonight in an expensive restaurant?

Lexie retrieved her cold cup of coffee. Where Jack Blade went or what he did when he got there was none of her business. In every way that was meaningful, they were strangers.

So why couldn’t she just forget about that night two months ago? They’d met in a restaurant bar. He’d been wearing faded jeans and an equally faded T-shirt stretched tight across his shoulders. He’d looked very male, not as civilized as he did now. And by the end of the evening, the T-shirt had been smeared with her tears and makeup.

It had gotten only worse from there. He’d driven her home to her place and taken her to bed. She became uncomfortable at the memory of the gloriously hot sex they’d shared.

He’d phoned several times after that night. Finally, she’d lied, telling him that she wasn’t interested. The pathetic and cowardly truth, though, was that it was easier to pretend she was okay when there was no one there to see her fall apart.

As she watched, Jack poured two cups. Putting both on the table, he slid in across from her, facing her as Fitz had, but because he was taller than the other man, his knee brushed hers. Both of them ignored the contact.

He looked better than she remembered. Blond hair, longer on top and with some darker streaks running through it. Penetrating, deep-blue eyes; a strong jawline. But it was his mouth that was the real attention grabber. No woman would be able to resist imagining how it would feel. And not just on her lips.

Lexie pushed the old cup of coffee to the side and pulled the fresh one toward her, then waited in silence.

“Was your ex-husband right-or left-handed?”

It wasn’t a question that she’d been expecting, so it took her a second to answer it. “Actually, Dan was ambidextrous. He did some things with his right hand and others with his left.” She leaned back. “He was born a lefty and still played most sports that way, but during medical school he trained himself to use his right hand for just about everything else. Said it made things easier for everyone. That nurses didn’t have to spend a lot of time changing setups and rearranging the equipment in operating rooms.”

“How about with a gun? Would he have used his right or his left hand?”

She fiddled with the cup handle. “I don’t know. I never saw him pick one up.”

He seemed surprised by the answer. “There was a .357 found next to the…next to your ex-husband. Nickel-plated, which means it was sort of a silvery color.”

“I’m familiar with the term.” The words came out sharper than she intended, but Lexie wasn’t in the mood to apologize. She took a hurried sip of the cooling coffee. That she hadn’t seen the gun or given any thought to the weapon that had been used bothered her. She should have, she realized. Was the revolver hers? She hadn’t been worried when she’d moved out and left it secured in the gun safe. Dan had never shown any interest in her grandfather’s collection of weapons.

Jack seemed to study her for several seconds. “So, as far as you knew, Dr. Dawson didn’t own a .357?”

“No. But when I moved out I left one locked in the gun safe upstairs.”

“So the weapon may be yours?”

“If it’s the one from the safe, it would be registered to my grandfather.”

“But you had possession of it?” Jack said.

Lexie frowned. “Yes. I suppose you could say the gun was mine.”

“When was the last time you shot it?”

“Never.”

“Why keep it then?”

“Sentimental reasons.” She drew air deep into her lungs, let it back out. The questions were really starting to get to her. She was beginning to wish that she’d left when Fitz had said she could.

“Most people don’t consider guns to be very sentimental.”

“I kept it because my grandfather enjoyed taking it to the range and shooting with his buddies. When I visited as a little girl, he’d take me with him. When I got older, he taught me how to handle a gun. After that, it became something we shared. The gun meant something to him, so it means something to me.”

“When’s the last time you saw your grandfather’s gun?”

“Eleven months ago.”

“But not tonight? When you found the body?”

She shook her head. “As soon as I saw Dan, I called 9-1-1.”

“The call came in around eleven-forty,” Jack said. “What were you doing here at that time of night?” Unlike Detective Fitz, he wasn’t making notes, so his gaze never left her face. It had been the same the night they’d met. But it hadn’t been just his eyes that had seemed completely focused on her; it had been everything else, too. Every movement, every touch had seemed meant for her. Had seemed meant to heal her deep down inside. It was no wonder she couldn’t get him out of her head, and yet at the same time couldn’t allow him anywhere near her.

She realized that he was waiting for her to answer, but it took her a moment to recall his question. “I had come by to collect some documents.”

“What type of documents?”

“Property settlement papers,” she said. “Dan called me earlier. He’d signed them and wanted me to pick them up.”

“At eleven-thirty at night?”

Lexie felt her pulse pick up, but tried to ignore it. She had nothing to worry about. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Everyone became a little nervous when a cop asked questions.

“Dan was a night owl,” she said after a several-second hesitation.

“How did he seem when he contacted you tonight?”

“Fine.”

“Who wanted the divorce?”

“This is a no-fault state.” As soon as she said it, she realized that, though she didn’t like the direction the question had taken, it was still a police investigation and personal feelings shouldn’t play into it. “I was the one who wanted out.”

“May I ask why?”

“Irreconcilable differences,” she offered. It was nothing more than a twentieth-century sound bite that explained very little, but then, she’d learned that pigeonholing the reason a relationship failed was nearly impossible.

His mouth tightened. Jack had yet to take a sip of coffee, and she suspected that he’d poured it only to give the illusion that they were two people having a conversation. But that’s where the illusion started and stopped, she realized, wondering why she hadn’t sensed it earlier with Detective Fitz.

What Fitz had labeled an informal, fact-gathering interview had deteriorated into something more intense. More uncomfortable for her. Had the police found something that led them to believe Dan’s death wasn’t suicide? Did they think she was somehow involved? She almost wanted to laugh at the idea. Great. She’d gone from terrorized to paranoid in a matter of seconds.

“Was he alone when you spoke to him?”

Leaning back, Lexie folded her arms. “I don’t know. He was text messaging me.”

“Did you erase his messages?”

“No.” She dug the phone out of her purse and placed it on the table in front of her. “I usually make notes of important calls when I get home at night.”

“May I look?”

She slid the phone across to him, and then watched as he manipulated the buttons. After several moments, he turned the screen and held it up for her to see.

Anniversary surprise stop by drink.

“That was the first one,” she said.

“Wedding anniversary, I assume?”

She nodded solemnly.

He looked at the phone again, though she suspected he really didn’t need to.

“The call came in at ten-fifteen. Where were you when you received it?”

“Dinner.”

“Kinda late for dinner. Were you alone?”

“It was a business dinner. At Baldacci’s. My guests were Drs. Rafferty, Lemon and Lattimer. We were discussing a new drug, one that I rep. The reservation was for eight o’clock. We finished up a little before eleven.”

“Eleven,” he repeated. He hit a few more keys and again turned the screen so she could see it.

paprs signd last dink

“This one came in at 11:05. Were you still at the restaurant?”

She shook her head. “I had just arrived home.”

“Alone?”

The question bothered her. Perhaps because of what had happened between them two months ago, and what she sensed to be the underlying suggestion that she often spent the night with near-strangers.

“Very alone.”

If she hadn’t been watching his face closely, she wouldn’t have seen the barely perceptible tightening of his mouth and the infinitesimal narrowing of his eyes.

He nodded. “So why don’t you tell me more about these property settlement papers? Was your divorce not final?”

Again, she sensed a hidden question—had Lexie been married when they’d slept together?

“The divorce was final six months ago. However, there was a problem with the paperwork, something fairly minor that only recently came to light. Dan took advantage of it, though, and filed an appeal of the original settlement, claiming that the division of property hadn’t been equitable, and that he should retain possession of this house.”

“And you didn’t agree?”

“No. The house belonged to my grandparents and had been willed to me nearly a year before Dan and I married. Besides, he didn’t really want the house. He hated it. He just wanted to drag things out.”

“What makes you say that?”

“This wasn’t the first time he claimed to have signed the documents,” she said.

Instead of commenting, Jack punched more keys. He held up the phone.

Pick up tnight or brn them n house

“Where were you when this came in?”

“At home. I was still sitting in my car, debating what I should do.”

“Did you believe that he might actually burn the papers and the house?”

“Dan never threatened. He warned of consequences.”

“So you thought him capable?”

“Of burning the papers?” She glanced away. “Yes. I thought him capable.”

“And the house?”

She rubbed her forehead. The headache really pounded now, making it difficult to think.

“Lexie, did you think he might burn the house?”

She shoved the hair that had fallen forward off her face as she looked up, meeting his gaze. “Intentionally? No. Accidentally? Maybe. If he’d been drinking,” she admitted.

“Did he have a drinking problem?”

She fiddled with the charm bracelet again, her fingers automatically searching out and finding the smooth, heart-shaped locket. “Not as far as he was concerned.”

Once again, Jack’s eyes narrowed, but this time that wasn’t the only change. It was like watching an approaching tornado, the clear skies of a summer afternoon suddenly turning dark and lethal. Treacherous and unpredictable.

And in that moment, it hit Lexie that she wasn’t being paranoid earlier. Jack did think she might somehow be involved. Probably Detective Fitz did, too. How had she not picked up on it sooner?

Without saying a word, Jack got up and left the room briefly. When he came back, he had a cell phone encased in a plastic bag, the inside of which was smeared with blood. He wasn’t alone this time, either. A Hispanic man followed him in, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt printed with CRIME SCENE, but stopped just inside the door.

This time Jack didn’t sit down. Deep Water’s police chief held up the phone, as he had the last one.

Silently, she read the screen: Don’t drink with murderers

“Care to explain that?”

She realized that if they’d been looking for motive, she’d given them several in a matter of minutes. Her ex-husband was bullying her on a property settlement. He’d threatened to burn a house that she obviously wanted enough to fight him for. And then there was the most damning reason—the one they didn’t even know about yet.

“Lexie?” There was menace in Jack’s tone.

She lifted her eyes to his but remained mute. Should she ask to see an attorney? No one had read her her rights yet. Didn’t they have to do that? Wasn’t anything she said up until now inadmissible in court?

Jack punched more buttons, held the phone up yet again. F off

“Were you angry?”

“Irritated. And…” Lexie closed her mouth, worried that her response would be misinterpreted.

Jack placed the phone on the table in front of her, the screen still lit and the words still there. The smeared blood on the inside of the bag blurred the screen. She looked away, her gaze stumbling onto Jack’s as he watched her.

“You don’t believe Dan’s death to be a suicide?” Her voice was pitched lower than usual. This couldn’t be happening. Not to her. Lexie looked toward the Hispanic man, who hadn’t moved. “Do you?”

Jack’s voice came as if from a distance. “It’s up to the medical examiner to make that determination. Our job is to do a thorough investigation in the meantime. Anytime there is a questionable death, we have to approach it as if it’s a homicide.”

She didn’t believe him. Maybe they had to wait on the official word, but her gut told her they were already building a case. Against her.

“Would you be willing to submit to a gunpowder residue test? Just to help rule yourself out?”

Lexie sat there for several seconds, weighing the request. She was really and truly screwed, wasn’t she? If Dan hadn’t killed himself—if he had instead been murdered—no one would buy her innocence, would they? She had opportunity and more than enough motive. And now they would have a residual test?

She stood slowly, her gaze moving from the man who waited near the door—the reason for his presence now obvious—to the man in front of her, who stood between her and the back door.

“It would be a waste of time,” she said.

“Why’s that?”

She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “I spent part of my afternoon at the gun range, trying out a new pistol.”

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