Page 27 of Texas Scandal

Tiernan’s gaze locked on to something or someone in the rearview as he handed over the cell.

“I need your thumb,” she said, noticing the tension lines on his face as he bounced back and forth between the road in front of him and whatever he was keeping an eye on behind them.

“Just enter the code, instead—111111,” he said.

She entered the numbers and then glanced over at him. “Everything okay?”

“We have a tail,” he said. “What I’m trying to determine is whether it’s law enforcement or someone to be worried about.”

Those words weren’t exactly reassuring. Going home might have been a mistake. They’d found the locket, though. It made her wonder if the person who’d dropped it had arrived after the law. Wouldn’t an investigator find the piece of silver jewelry? Granted, it had been wedged in between wood slats, and the sun was just right to cause a glint that had caught her eye. The law might have been focused on getting inside her place rather than scanning the outside. And yet, wouldn’t they be more thorough?

She’d read news stories of high-profile investigations where officers and deputies had mishandled evidence. There’d been other cases where key pieces of evidence had been introduced late in the game from the original crime scene or couldn’t be used because it had been trampled on by an officer. It happened.

Another explanation was the sheriff had made up his mind she was guilty and went in mostly looking for her laptop to confiscate. He might have instructed his deputies to take certain items. Someone had gone through her mail. She never left it scattered around on the countertop.

It was probably good that she wasn’t home when they’d searched the place. Of course, her landlord probably let them in. She would have some explaining to do once this was all over.

She located Prescott’s contact information and then forwarded the email to him. There was a small sense of accomplishment that came with clearing her inbox despite the scary message. It dawned on her to check the date the message came in.

“Three days ago,” she said out loud.

“The sheriff will check your phone logs and your emails, so I don’t feel a sense of responsibility to pass the message along,” Tiernan said.

“Good point,” she said. “Is there anything they won’t touch?”

“You, as long as I’m breathing,” he said so low she almost didn’t hear it. The reassurance helped calm her nerves a notch below panic. Was it a promise he could keep?

Melody checked the time. The ride over to Green Things took an hour and twenty minutes. Before Melody realized it, the truck was parked in the lot and she stared at a green and white building.

“I’ll crack the windows and leave Loki inside since it’s chilly,” Tiernan said. “Are you ready to go inside and meet Bebe Riker?”

“No,” Melody said. “But I don’t see how there’s any other choice.”

Chapter Eleven

Bebe Riker stood in the middle of the store in front of a grand Christmas display. The holiday was a couple of weeks away and she was already supervising the deconstruction of the elaborate presentation, shifting to what looked like an endcap display instead. Long black hair pulled off her face in a ponytail, she was the shell of a woman who was most likely a former beauty queen.

Melody froze the minute her eyes landed on Bebe. She reached for Tiernan’s hand, most likely for reassurance. He didn’t care what the reason was because linking their fingers felt good to him, like when a puzzle piece that had been lost was found and fit perfectly.

For a second, he wondered if Melody would chicken out and head right back out the door. Instead, she just stood there. Staring. There had to be half a dozen emotions playing through her mind. Facing her father’s mistress—a mistress who’d had his child—had to be one of the worst things she’d ever do.

Bebe turned around and caught them watching her. She did a double take, giving away the fact she recognized Melody. A long pause where no one moved passed before Bebe issued a sharp sigh, barked orders at the pair of high-school-age boys breaking apart the exhibit and then stormed toward them.

Melody’s grip tightened before she let go of Tiernan’s hand altogether. She tensed, ready for the squall headed their way. Bebe stopped a couple of feet in front of them.

“My name’s Tiernan,” he said, trying to deflect some of the tension. He held out his hand. Bebe took it and gave a polite handshake.

“I’m Melody,” she said. “But I think you already know that.”

Bebe nodded, not offering her name in return. “What brings you to my part of town?” The way she said those words, then crossed her arms over her chest gave Tiernan the impression Bebe decided she was from the wrong side of the tracks when it came to the Cantors. Then again, Melody’s dad might have pointed out the fact on his way out the door. The bastard.

“Your son,” Melody said.

Bebe started tapping her toe against the sterile white flooring. Red-rimmed brown eyes sized them up. “Well, he’s gone, so you’re wasting your time.” The older woman’s chin quivered but no tears formed in her eyes. The toe tapped faster. “I’m only here today because I didn’t know what else to do with myself.”

Despite putting up a tough front, everything else about her body language said she was broken. Was Jason’s death the reason? Or was his murder the straw that broke the camel’s back?

“I’m sorry,” Melody said with the kind of compassion that would normally melt a glacier in the dead of winter.

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