Part 5 (1/2)

But Pescoli was already around the Jeep and behind the wheel.

Alvarez slid into the pa.s.senger seat. ”Let's go,” she said in an out-of-character display of disobeying her commanding officer.

”What?” Hattie Grayson dropped the jar of jam she'd been holding. The small container shattered on her kitchen floor, shards of gla.s.s flying, sticky strawberry jam spraying in thick clumps. ”No. Not Dan. Not Dan!”

She stared into the tortured gaze of Dan's brother Cade, who had just driven over to give her the news that cracked her world in two. Disregarding the spilled jam and shards of gla.s.s, she fell into his arms. Tears welled and she felt as if they'd started in the center of her soul. She'd known Dan all her life, been married to Bart, one of his brothers, and had half-fancied herself in love with him before reuniting with Cade. The Grayson brothers-all four of them, including Big Zed-had been the center of her universe.

Now two of the brothers were gone. Bart's death had been ruled a suicide, though she was certain that he'd been killed. Dan had been murdered by a maniac as well, someone he should never have trusted.

”I don't want to believe it.”

”Me neither.”

”The b.a.s.t.a.r.d who did this-”

”Will pay.”

That much was true. Dan's a.s.sailant was already captured and behind bars, fighting his own injuries.

Still, the rage at the man who'd s.n.a.t.c.hed Dan's life away burned deep. ”I hope he rots in h.e.l.l.”

Cade's strong arms folded her tight against him. ”I know.”

Thank G.o.d he didn't say ”it will be all right” or any other plat.i.tude, because deep in Hattie's heart, she knew that it would never be. With Dan Grayson's easygoing strides no longer walking the earth, the planet would be an emptier, colder place. He'd been so good to her, to her twin daughters, to everyone in Grizzly Falls. At least she had time to pull herself together before she told her girls. Mallory and McKenzie would be as devastated as she was. A coldness settled over her and she s.h.i.+vered in Cade's embrace.

”First Bart, now Dan,” she whispered, drinking in the smell of the man holding her so close. The scents of leather and horses clung to him and filled her nostrils. ”I don't want to believe this, Cade. I just . . . I just can't. There's got to be a mistake.”

”I wish, darlin',” he said, his own voice rough, his warm breath ruffling her hair. His jaw was scratchy with beard-stubble, his eyes a deep, somber gray, all of the carefree, bad-boy att.i.tude gone. He squeezed her a little more tightly and his voice cracked as he said, ”G.o.d, don't I wish.”

The hospital was remarkably calm, Alvarez thought, almost as if the whole world surrounding Grizzly Falls hadn't changed drastically with the pa.s.sing of Sheriff Dan Grayson. Yes, there was a news camera crew outside. Nia Del Ray, a reporter for KMJC, was standing near the sign at the entrance of Northern General Hospital, snow catching on her short black hair as she was probably reporting on Grayson's demise, unless some other story had trumped his, which Alvarez doubted.

Inside the wide hallways, the floors gleamed under bright lights, conversation hummed, and people went about their work as if nothing monumental had just gone down within the hospital's walls. Near a placard that listed those who had donated to the hospital, she and Pescoli stepped around a woman with a cast on her leg, being wheeled down the hallway by the orderly, after which they nearly ran into an elderly man who had suddenly stopped for no apparent reason.

”Sorry,” he apologized, blinking as if he'd been in a daze.

They moved past him to the elevators. ”You know what this means, don't you?” Pescoli said, slapping the call b.u.t.ton just as the doors to one of the cars opened and a group of three women emerged.

”Tell me.” Alvarez walked into the car.

Once they were inside and the elevator doors had whispered shut, Pescoli pounded her fist on the b.u.t.ton for the second floor. ”That the son of a b.i.t.c.h who took down Grayson just lost his GET OUT OF JAIL card forever. No more attempted in the charge. He's going down for murder.”

The doors opened and they stepped into the wide hallway, again brightly lit and complete with alcoves, benches and chairs, and a wide nurse's station at the center of it all.

They walked up to the desk and a woman seated at a computer looked up. Pescoli showed her badge and said, ”Detective Regan Pescoli, Pinewood County Sheriff's Department. This is my partner Detective Alvarez. We have some questions about . . . about the sheriff . . . Dan Grayson . . . and what happened to him. We'd like to talk to the supervisor of the floor and his doctor, whoever was in charge of his care.”

Alvarez's gaze s.h.i.+fted to Pescoli, whose green eyes s.h.i.+fted in hue with the light.

Under the glare of the hospital's illumination they were a light jade color and hard as stone. Athletic and tall, with sharp features and a penetrating gaze, she was intimidating. An ex-basketball player, Pescoli wasn't afraid to get into anyone's face and bore more than her share of battle scars as a no-nonsense police officer and single mother. She was glaring at the small, nervous-looking nurse behind the desk as if the poor woman was a hardened criminal.

”I'll get Rinalda, uh, Mrs. Dash. She's in charge,” the girl behind the desk said.

Before either of the detectives could thank her, a booming female voice carried up the hall. ”Is there a problem, Stephanie?”

In her peripheral vision, Alvarez caught a glimpse of a slim woman quickly approaching. Tall, African-American with close-cropped hair and an expression that was as stern as Pescoli's, she stopped at the desk. ”I'm Rinalda Dash.” With her height, she actually looked down at Pescoli. ”What can I help you with?”

Again, Pescoli flashed her badge and introduced them both. ”We're here about Dan Grayson, who was your patient. We'd like to know what happened.”

”We all would,” Nurse Dash said solemnly. ”And we're looking into it as we do with all unexpected deaths. There's a place where we can talk more privately,” she said, indicating a small niche near a bank of windows. Complete with a square of carpet, a coffee table, bench, fake ficus tree, and two side chairs, the spot offered little privacy, but it would have to do.

To the nurse behind the desk, the supervisor said, ”Stephanie, page Dr. Zingler, please. See if he's still in the building. I'm sure the detectives would like to speak to him, as well.” She gave Pescoli a patient but firm smile as she led them into the alcove. ”Believe me, we will find out what exactly caused the sheriff's death.”

Blackwater held a meeting in the conference room, which not only opened from the hallway but from his office as well. Everyone who worked for the department and currently not on the road was required to attend. One person in each department was to man the phones and he expected the meeting to be short, but he owed it to the officers, those who had worked under Dan Grayson, to explain the situation as best he knew it. He stood before the deputies, secretaries, volunteers, detectives, and various officers and met all of their solemn gazes with his own.

”This is a bleak day for the Pinewood County Sheriff's Department,” he began at the podium. ”A difficult time for all of us, most of you more than me, as you had the honor of working with Sheriff Dan Grayson much longer than I did. We all respected him. He was a man who walked tall among men, a fair and just man, a man with a steely determination balanced by his compa.s.sion and quick wit. He would want, no, he would expect, all of us to continue working here for the good of Pinewood County, to protect and serve its citizens, and so we shall.

”That doesn't mean that I, as the acting sheriff, will not expend every effort to find out what happened at the hospital, and if there were extenuating circ.u.mstances regarding his death. I promise each and every one of you that the person responsible for sending Dan Grayson to Northern General Hospital will be tried and convicted for his crimes. The district attorney is already updating the charges against the suspect.” He glanced around the room, letting his words settle, then added, ”The best way we can honor Dan Grayson's memory and years of service is to continue with our jobs as officers of the law. Sheriff Grayson would have expected as much, and so do I. We have cases that require our immediate and undivided attention and I expect each and every one of you to give a hundred percent in ferreting out those responsible for the crimes under our jurisdiction and bringing them to justice.”

He paused for effect. ”For an as yet undetermined amount of time, I'm lowering all of the building's flags to half mast. Everyone, please, keep the sheriff's memory alive by continuing to provide the citizens of Pinewood County with your best service. Thank you.”

He thought about saying more, even including a quick prayer, but decided short and to the point was all that was necessary. Each officer would grieve on his or her own terms. Hopefully, the meeting would provide some closure until a funeral could be arranged and business could go on as usual.

It wasn't that he was just a hard-a.s.s. He believed that the work of the department couldn't be interrupted for anything, even a commander's death. He would back off a bit, allow a few tears and conversations, let those who were closest to Grayson have a few days to grab hold of their emotions, but he had a department to run and a sicko on the horizon, if the body discovered on the O'Halleran ranch was any indication.

That case bothered him in its brutality, but he knew that it would also raise the community's awareness of him as the sheriff. It was an opportunity to show that he was up to the task, and was also a test of his mettle and skills. The Jane Doe whose body had been found in that near-frozen creek could be his ticket to the kind of fame he needed to be elected sheriff.

As he strode to his office, the one so recently occupied by Grayson, he considered that there could be an outside chance that a perfectly sound explanation existed as to why a healthy-looking thirtyish woman had ended up dead in a near-frozen pool of a creek, her ring finger recently severed. Not much of a chance, he thought, but one that had to be explored.

Walking into his office, he ignored the feeling that he was stepping into another man's boots. More than one, if he were honest with himself. Yes, Grayson had worked here. Yes, he was beloved by the staff and citizens, but he wasn't the first exalted leader, nor would he be the last. The long row of eight-by-ten photos in the lobby proved the point of how many had gone before Dan Grayson. The empty wall invited those who would follow.

Blackwater settled into a chair that was too big for him in more ways than he wanted to consider. He only hoped that he could finish out Grayson's term and be elected to sheriff on his own merit, so that one day his own picture would grace the wall of the lobby.

Of course, in order for that to happen, he had to prove himself. Show the citizens of Pinewood County that he was the logical choice for sheriff.

He thought about the detectives on his staff and wondered how long he'd be able to deceive them. Alvarez with her master's degree in psychology. A beautiful Hispanic woman with jet-black hair, full lips, and dark, suspicious eyes, she did little to enhance her looks, but she took her job seriously. She was dedicated, he'd give her that. A natural Type-A who worked out in the gym, she kept her body tight and her mind sharp, and usually reined in her emotions. Called an ”ice princess” or ”b.i.t.c.h with a heart of stone” behind her back, she was harder on herself than anyone else was.

Blackwater related to her, knew she was a good cop, and that she played by the rules. With the news about Grayson, she'd fallen completely out of character, though he supposed it was understandable given her staunch belief in him and her loyalty. But she'd defied his orders to join her partner.

That one. Pescoli. She was as out of control as her partner was in. Married a couple times, with kids who gave her fits, she was a wild card. A good cop, yes, but she relied on gut instinct and adrenaline, more than Blackwater liked. He had little doubt that she'd take him on if given half a chance. Wearing one's emotions on one's sleeve was never a good idea in his opinion, and for a cop, it was worse.

She was a rogue. Period. Didn't respect the rules one iota.

He leaned back in his chair and glanced through the door he'd left ajar. Pescoli's office was just down the hall, which was perfect.

Because he planned to watch her like a hawk.

Chapter 6.