Dawson geralyn, p.5
Dawson, Geralyn, page 5
Maddie smiled wistfully. "He was the most romantic man. Some of the stories he told about romancing his wife, why, they left me breathless. I've never had that in a lover, but now that I know romantic men are not just a fantasy, I'm thinking I might hold out for one." She paused for a moment's reflection, then added, "I guess that's a bright spot in this nightmare. Gus gets to be with his Sue-Ellen again. I'll bet he's romancing her in heaven right this minute."
Luke frowned. "He passed away? When?"
"Yesterday. He's the man I told you about. I think he might have been murdered."
Luke's arm jerked, accidentally knocking a fork to the floor. "Wait a minute. You're telling me this murder and mayhem happened in Mayberry? In quiet little friendly Brazos Bend? That Mr. Grevas was a drug dealer?"
"Yes! Well, except for the bit about Mr. Grevas. That I just won't believe. He wouldn't have sent me to clear out his lake house if he knew it was chock-full of an illegal substance. I think he found out yesterday and that's what upset him. He thought he was having a heart attack, but when he went to the hospital, the tests ruled out heart trouble. The doctors said his heart was fine and he'd had a panic attack instead."
Maddie paused long enough to fiddle with the way he'd loaded the silverware basket. "Because he was such an emotional mess, they decided to keep him a couple of days for observation—mostly to calm him down. When I visited him, he told me the mushrooms were worth six million dollars, and I needed to get rid of them. He said the killers are looking for me and not to trust the police. Then I discovered his home had been ransacked and neighbors who also happen to be cops visited him in the hospital shortly before he died."
Oh, shit. Dirty cops? In Brazos Bend?
Luke scooped the fork off the floor and dumped it into the dishwasher, then slammed the damn thing closed. He didn't want to hear another word. Yet he asked, "What makes you think he was murdered, Maddie?"
"He was fine! It was just panic. I honestly don't know, but my suspicions are enough to scare me silly. I have their mushrooms, after all. Gus was another client of mine, and he'd asked me to clean out his lake house before he listed it with a real estate agent. Gus is... or was... an avid gardener, so I didn't think anything of finding all the mushrooms."
Luke's stomach did a slow, sickening turn, and it wasn't a result of bad food. "Stop. Just stop it. I'm going fishing. Remember? Fishing. Save the rest of it for someone who can help you."
"But—"
"I mean it, Maddie. I'm not getting involved in this. I can't. I'm sorry about old Gus, I truly am. But I don't have the creds anymore. I'm not on the job. Save your story for someone who is."
Maddie's mouth flattened into a grim smile, but she handwashed and dried the wooden-handled barbecue tools in silence. For a time, the only sound to be heard was the night sounds of the bayou and Knucklehead's peaceful snores. Thank goodness.
With the galley put to rights, Luke decided to call it a day. Never mind he hadn't gone to bed this early in months. Years, even. He couldn't stand here a minute longer looking at her sad, angry eyes. "I'm whipped. Feel free to stay up as long as you want, but I'm hitting the sack."
His door was halfway closed when her voice floated on the air like a discordant melody. "They're cops, Luke. What if they kill me, too?"
Luke snarled and slammed the door hard.
"Not gonna go there," he muttered. "Dirty cops are not my problem."
He shucked off his swim trunks and climbed naked into bed. He yanked the midnight blue sheet over his hips and put his arm over his eyes. Think about tarpon, Callahan. Think about the pull on the line when he takes the bait. The fight.
He thought of what drug dealers do to people who cross them. Especially those bastards with the benefit of a badge.
Think about Matt and imported beer and the gentle sway of the boat at dusk.
He visualized a waterfall of red hair soaked in a pool of blood.
"Son of a bitch." He flipped over onto his stomach and buried his head in his pillow.
Think of turquoise water. Think of sugar-sand beaches.
He thought of chocolate brown eyes, wide and lifeless.
Luke muttered a string of curses and rolled onto his side. He pulled the pillow over his head and mentally inventoried the fishing lures in his tackle box. He worked his way to the bottom, envisioned the boning knife nestled in a leather sheath, and gave up. "Damn me for an empty-headed idiot."
He rolled out of bed and headed for the door, pulling on his swim trunks as an afterthought.
Luke found her sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her bed, rubbing an ecstatic Knucklehead's belly. She looked up in surprise as he burst into the room. "Tell me."
Her tongue slipped out of her mouth and ringed her lips. "You want to know...?"
"Everything. The drugs. The murder. Your involvement."
"And you'll help me?"
"I'm not promising anything. I have to hear your story first."
She glanced down at the dog, then back up at him. "Then can I at least have your word that you won't do anything that could hurt me?"
Affronted, his body stiffened. "Hurt you? I'm not the bad guy here. You came to me, remember? What do you think I'd do to hurt you?"
Maddie's teeth tugged at her lower lip. "Talk. You could tell the wrong somebody something I'm going to tell you, something that could get me in trouble. Will you promise me you'll keep this between the two of us, Luke?"
"All right."
"Oh, jeez," she muttered. "What am I doing? About to put my faith in a man? Again? You swear it, Luke Callahan? You swear you won't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you? On... on... on Knucklehead's life?"
Luke sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. "Oh, for God's sake, Maddie. Just tell me what happened, okay? I won't make trouble for you. I'm going fishing, remember?"
She rose from the floor and sat on the edge of her bed. She wiped her palms on her bare thighs. "Okay. Well. Like I said, it all started yesterday morning. I can't believe it was only yesterday. It feels like a year ago."
Luke thought it might take a year for her to tell her story at this rate. The golden highlights mixed among the red of her hair glistened in the lamplight, and even in the seriousness of the moment, he couldn't help but notice just how damned beautiful she was.
"Early yesterday morning, I cleaned out Gus's lake house and found the mushrooms. I decided to take them to the farmer's market to sell."
Now, that dragged his attention back to matters at hand. "You were going to sell psilocybin mushrooms at a farmer's market?"
"I didn't know they were... well... the magic kind. I thought they were shiitake or some other gourmet variety."
"Jesus." He raked his fingers through his hair, amused despite himself as he pictured the likes of sour old Mrs. Moody high on magic mushrooms. "What did the mushrooms look like?"
She bit her bottom lip, then said, "Little penises."
Luke made a strangled sound in his throat.
"Well, that is what they look like." She tucked a loose strand behind her ear as she considered it. "Most of them were tall and skinny, but I did see some short and fat ones."
"Colors?"
"A bunch of different ones. The ones in the jars were mostly dark, sort of a dark olive brown, but others were a chestnut rusty color. Some even had kind of a blue edge or ring. The dried ones in the burlap bags were sort of yellowish."
"Jars and burlap bags?" He braced his hands on his hips. "Jesus, how much do you have?"
"Lots. All that would fit in my van. I threw away the rest."
His jaw gaped. "You realize you threw away evidence, don't you?"
Her eyes flashed with indignation. "I didn't know it was evidence then! I'm no mushroom expert. The dried ones didn't look any different from ones for sale in the produce section."
He dismissed it with a wave. "Fine. All right. Then what happened?"
"I went to another client's home, and then to your father's. He's been having an awful time with his knees, so in addition to writing the letters he dictates each day, I've started overseeing his exercises. I make sure he does them and does them right. I confer with a physical therapist, mind you, so—"
"Is this relevant?" He didn't need to know a damn thing about Branch Callahan's daily life.
She let out a huff. "I brought him some mushrooms. I thought your father's cooks might have a use for them, but the Garza sisters didn't like the looks of them, so they threw them away. I was in Branch's kitchen when a friend of mine, a nurse, called me from the hospital, and said Gus had been admitted and was asking for me."
Maddie repeated Gus's cautions to her and explained how he'd become so worked up, his blood pressure skyrocketed and the nurses chased her away. "I went to his house to pick up his robe and toiletries, and that's when I found it ransacked. I was trying to decide what to do about it when my cell rang again and my friend told me Gus had died."
"Of a heart attack," Luke clarified.
She nodded. "The doctors were shocked, but when I asked my friend if they were sure it was natural causes, she assured me it had to have been. But he'd had visitors, Luke. What would have stopped someone from giving him something to cause a heart attack?"
"That's a stretch."
"Maybe, but I don't think I want to risk my life on it."
Luke grimaced and raked his fingers through his hair. "So, how did you end up at Caddo Bayou Marina?"
"I left Brazos Bend on the run just to get out of town. I'd been on the road for hours, pretty much driving aimlessly, when Branch called and suggested I come to Terry for help."
What a mess. Luke smothered a sigh. "Where are the mushrooms now?"
"In my trunk. Well, not the trunk. I don't have a trunk. I drive a minivan because of my work. I think you saw it in the parking lot. They're in the back of my van." After a moment's pause, she frowned and added, "You know, they're liable to cook in this heat. I probably should have cracked a window."
He stared up at the ceiling. "So, let me see if I have this straight. Yesterday morning you loaded your minivan with mushrooms from Gus Grevas's lake house, then you went about your workday until Gus summoned you to his hospital room where he warned you about the cops."
"That's right."
"Then you found his house searched, Gus died, and you took off headed... where?"
"Just away. I told you all this already. I didn't have a destination in mind until your father called and told me to go to Caddo Bayou."
"And you drove all night, parked your car at the marina, trespassed on my boat, and fell asleep."
"Basically, yes."
Luke rubbed the back of his neck. "So the minivan back at the marina is filled with six million dollars' worth of sun-cooked psilocybin mushrooms?"
Maddie shook her head. "Not six million. Remember, I threw some of them away. I'm guessing four."
"And the growers just might be cops who may have murdered a helpless old man in Brazos Bend and who are now after you."
"That's right."
Wrong. Her story was unbelievable, like something out of a bad B-movie. Like one of the scenarios Branch Callahan had cooked up in his futile efforts to reconcile with Luke, Matt, and Mark. It reminded Luke of that time Branch sent a gorgeous hooker disguised as a kindergarten teacher to Matt's place with some cockamamy story about Matt's providing the prize for the teacher-of-the-year winner. Or his salvo at Mark, some complicated scenario involving stolen family jewels and a lady detective wanting to check those of his brother.
No, Maddie's story was just another Branch Callahan fantasy tale.
Luke's gaze swept her from head to toe once again, lingered on her bosom once again; then his features flattened into a grim expression of disgust. Mushrooms and murder. Crooked cops and a runaway damsel in distress. It was simply too damned far-fetched for a sleepy little place like Brazos Bend, Texas.
Branch must have been watching the afternoon soaps again to come up with a fairy tale like this one.
The fact that Branch had conned Maddie into weaving a story about a dead Gus Grevas, though, was over the top even for his old man. The rotten old bastard. Wouldn't he ever learn?
Now Luke was really pissed. He'd almost fallen for it, dammit. Fallen for her act. "Oh, this is rich. The old man is really reaching to think he'd put this over on me. Instead of a hooker, he sends a fake damsel in distress to pull on my heartstrings. Well, guess what, babe. I don't have a heart. Good night."
Luke turned and left her and, seconds later, slammed his bedroom door. Again.
Maddie's mouth gaped in shock. In all the scenarios she'd imagined regarding Luke Callahan's reaction to her story, she'd never considered that he might not believe her.
Considering her previous experience with law enforcement, that had been a stupid oversight on her part.
How foolish of her to think a man the likes of Luke Callahan would help her. After all, he'd been estranged from his father for a very long time. Sure, Branch was difficult, even ornery, but Maddie knew all about difficult fathers. Shoot, she had the king of difficult fathers, but she didn't let his bad behavior ruin their relationship.
The fact that Luke hadn't tried to repair things with his father didn't speak well of Luke Callahan's character.
No, she'd done it again. She'd listened to her heart and her hormones instead of her head. Good God, would she never learn? Luke Callahan had been a hell-raiser in high school. He remained to this day the role model for bad-boy wannabes in Brazos Bend. He was Rip and Liam and Cade all over again.
After the fallout from Cade, Maddie had believed herself cured her of bad-boy-desire disease forever. Well, she'd been wrong. Dead wrong. And worse, she'd been stupid. For crying out loud, Maddie. When will you ever learn?
Anger roared through her, furious and hot. Luke Callahan was nothing more than a jerk. A class-A, number one jerk!
But, by God, she wasn't the only one who could lay a claim to stupid. She pushed to her feet and stomped toward his cabin, not pausing to knock. She shoved the door open.
He lay naked on his back on the bed. On top of the sheets. His pillow over his head. It was a sign of the intensity of her anger that her gaze barely lingered on his crotch. "You know, Callahan, your father told me you were stubborn, but he never mentioned stupid."
He jackknifed up. "Excuse me?"
"Well, somebody's being stupid here." She lifted her chin, letting him know that "somebody" wasn't her. The dog sidled past her and leaped onto the bed, then stretched out beside Luke. Of the two, Maddie thought, Knucklehead had more sense. "I guess the truth will tell. If I'm inventing this story, then I won't be able to produce the cache of mushrooms, now, will I? I don't suppose you'd like to make a bet on the outcome, would you, ex-agent Callahan? I've got my eye on a pretty little purse at the Brazos Bend Boutique."
A muscle worked in Luke's jaw and a chill entered those gorgeous green eyes. Maddie glared right back at him. She wished he'd put on some clothes. Cover up, at least. Unfortunately, his lack of character didn't distract from the appeal of washboard abs and a substantial package.
Maddie was tired, desperate, and scared. She held on to her patience by a string. Why did Branch Callahan have to go and lie about Terry Winston? For that matter, why couldn't Branch have had girls rather than boys? If he'd had an ex-DEA agent daughter, she'd have helped Maddie rather than let her down. Women didn't let Maddie down.
A sense of hopelessness washed over her. Tears threatened, but she fought them back. "Look. Never mind. Maybe it's best we just forget about it. I'll find someone else to help me."
He muttered something under his breath that she couldn't quite catch, then said, "If by some wild chance you're telling the truth—and I'm not for a minute saying I believe you—do you have a clue of the kind of trouble you're in?"
Maddie's spirit came roaring back at that. She rolled her eyes, then dramatically clapped a hand to her chest. "Trouble? Me? Do ya think?"
When he lowered his brow and scowled at her, Maddie sneered right back. "Welcome to this week, Agent Callahan. Yes, I know I'm in trouble. You see, in addition to having millions of dollars worth of a controlled substance in my vehicle and killers on my tail, I have another little worry."
His scowl morphed into a grimace. "Don't tell me you're pregnant. The hooker tried that one when I wouldn't cave."
"I'm not pregnant, G-man." She lifted up the left side of her T-shirt and tugged down the waistband of the gym shorts she wore, revealing a small, artistic tattoo on her hip. "I'm on parole."
CHAPTER 5
"That's a prison tat!" Luke's appalled gaze zeroed in on the figure on her hip. He recognized the style. The artist. "That's Wanda Jarrell's work."
It was a stylized version of a Texas Department of Corrections number about as big as his thumb in colors of green, blue, and red.
"I thought you might recognize it. I understand Wanda's work is very well known among law enforcement officials as well as inmates."
Luke managed little more than a nod. Wanda Jarrell had made a name for herself with her creative designs utilizing a person's Texas Department of Corrections number.
"I firmly believe that had Wanda's family circumstances been different, her work would be hanging in museums rather than on convicts' biceps and butts," Maddie added.
"Why...?"
She sighed and let loose her T-shirt. Luke knew a small sense of loss as the sexy little scroll was covered. "I did it on a dare," she replied. "That and to serve as a permanent reminder of my stupidity. Plus, I truly like her artistry."
He shook his head. He'd not been asking why the tattoo, but rather why the DOC prison number. "Who the hell are you, woman?"
"It's complicated. I—"
His lawman's senses on high alert, Luke reached beside the bed for his gun. He didn't know who sent her, or why she was there, but he wasn't taking chances with this sort of thing.
"Who sent you?"
"Oh, for crying out loud."
"Who sent you, Maddie? Goddammit, I can't believe I almost let a piece of ass—"
