Shit. There went his anonymity in this backwater town. And his plan for a quick break. “I think ‘body’ is a questionable term considering the circumstances.”
“Terrible discovery,” Jenkins said, tapping his finger against the glass in his hand. Ice clinked in the bottom. “Whole town’s sick over it.”
Wrapping a hand around her neck, Cynthia shivered in a way that made her breasts jiggle in the extremely low-cut top. A move Ethan knew was planned. “Just makes me ill to think a dead body’s been up in those woods all this time.” Her voice lowered. “You know, people are saying it’s Sandra Hollings.”
Dot’s lips pursed. “Serves her right.”
“Dot.” Jenkins’s sharp gaze darted in her direction.
“Oh, hush. You and I both know that woman was the devil.” Dot glanced at Ethan as if she were confessing a terrible secret. “You’re not from around here, but let me tell you, the devil’s just what she was. Why, she was a teacher up at the high school, a teacher who had one thing on her mind, she did. Caused all sorts of trouble in this town. Flitting around with another woman’s husband, flaunting herself in front of those boys in class. I’m not the only one who was happy to see her go.”
“Now, Dot,” Burke said, slipping an arm around his wife’s waist. “That was a long time ago.”
“Long time ago.” Dot huffed. “I have a memory like an elephant, I do. I remember what that woman was like.” She glanced up at Ethan again. “We were all thankful when she disappeared. Especially poor Will over there.”
“Chief Branson?” Ethan glanced across the room, his interest suddenly piqued. But when he caught sight of Branson standing with an arm wrapped protectively around Samantha, his stomach clenched.
He didn’t want Branson’s hands anywhere near Samantha, but he couldn’t go over there and warn her off the guy without explaining what he knew. And doing that meant opening up a part of himself she wasn’t ready to see.
“His daddy was the one she’d taken up with,” Dot said. “Henry Branson was mayor of Hidden Falls at the time. There was a big scandal when it all came out. Cut that family in two, that evil woman did. Why, Eileen Branson committed suicide over it.”
Will’s mother? Ethan looked back down at the older woman.
“Dot.” Jenkins sent her another warning glare.
“Can’t say I was sorry in the least to see that Hollings woman leave,” Dot went on, ignoring Jenkins.
“I thought someone said she went back to Seattle?” Ethan asked.
“She did,” Cynthia replied. “But she came back. Alan Kendall saw her at the gas station, what, six or seven months after she took off?”
“Something like that.” Dot waved a hand, then leaned closer to Ethan. “Alan’s not always the best with details.” She tapped her head. “But he’s sure he saw her. None of the rest of us did, but I, for one, tend to believe him.”
Jenkins frowned. “Let me get this straight. You think she left, came back because she missed the place, and then someone killed her? Why would she come back? You already pointed out that no one in town liked her. That’s a little out there, even for you, Dot.”
Dot’s lips pursed when she turned toward Lincoln. “I don’t know why she came back, but I’m sure she did. She had her talons in the Branson family, that’s for sure, and she was none too happy about leaving in the first place. She was practically forced out of here. I think someone murdered her, that’s what I think. Someone who was sick of seeing what she’d done to those people, to this town, for that matter.”
“Oh Lord.” Burke rolled his eyes. “We’re all suspects now.”
Ethan’s gaze drifted back toward Samantha, still standing way too close to Will Branson for his taste. If what Dot Appleton said were true, then Sandra Hollings hadn’t been missed when she’d left Hidden Falls. And the Branson family had reason to see her disappear forever.
“Well, I don’t really know what to believe,” Cynthia said, drawing Ethan’s attention back to her and her heaving breasts. “It just creeps me out knowing someone died up there. Especially since that’s the same forest where the Raines boy was murdered. What if the same person killed them both?”
Every muscle in Ethan’s body contracted.
Dot waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “That was a completely different situation. They caught the juvenile delinquent who drowned poor Seth. Some whacked-out kid from the city. Why politicians think good country folk should be responsible for rehabilitating scum like that is beyond me.”
Dot’s words echoed through Ethan’s mind, but the tightness growing in his chest was all that held his focus.
“It was a pleasure to meet you all,” he managed, interrupting Dot midsentence as she went on about the problem with social services programs in the United States. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Certainly.” Dot folded her hands over her small purse. But as he stepped away, Ethan heard her mutter, “Interesting fellow, that Dr. McClane. What do you know about him, David?”
Ethan wanted nothing more than to grab Samantha and run, to get as far away from this house and its inhabitants as possible, but he couldn’t. Because he wasn’t about to make a scene for her. There was still just enough preteen fear in him, though, to push him right out the patio door toward freedom and fresh air.
His heart pounded in his chest. Sweat slicked his skin. Clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides, he wove through the crowd on the verandah and cursed his stupidity for agreeing to come to this party. In his desperate attempt to spend more time with Samantha, he’d ruined their entire night. And his plan hadn’t even worked, had it? She wasn’t anywhere near him. She wasn’t talking to or flirting with or touching him. She was with Branson. And Kellogg. And Saunders.
He moved past potted trees lit up with twinkle lights and groupings of people chatting and drinking on the verandah. Beyond the balcony, snowflakes wisped through the air, landing without a sound on the grass below. Heaters were strategically placed to keep the area warm, but Ethan didn’t need heat. He needed a dark corner where he could pull himself together before he gave in to the urge and ran.
He finally spotted it. Just past the last heater. A space at the end of the deck where he could be alone with his thoughts. Bracing his hands on the railing, he looked out at the darkness and drew in steady breaths.
“You look like you could use a friend.”
Shit. So much for being alone with his thoughts.
He turned to find Margaret Wilcox slinking toward him, her black silk sheath dress clinging to her body, contrasting with her milk-white skin and blonde hair. She held one arm wrapped around her waist, while the elbow of the other sat perched on her hip, cradling a smoldering cigarette.
“Smoke?” she asked.
God, yes. Right now.
“No.” He cleared his throat because it sounded way too desperate. “I quit.”
One side of her blood-red lips tipped up as she moved closer. “Pity.”
She took a long drag on the cigarette, then blew smoke all over his face. Ethan closed his eyes and breathed deep, ingesting as much nicotine as he could to keep from snatching it out of her grip.
“Self-control is overrated, Dr. McClane.” Her voice dropped to a raspy whisper. “It’s so much more enjoyable to be wicked.”
He was not turned on by this woman. She smelled like a crowded bar, probably tasted like a dirty ashtray. There were reasons he’d quit smoking; most notably, he didn’t find this attractive anymore. So why wasn’t he moving back?
Because he was desperate for a hit. And right now he didn’t care how he got it.
Her fingertips grazed the sleeve of his jacket, and he opened his eyes. Fine lines fanned out from her eyes at this close distance. Her skin was sallow and rougher than he’d originally thought. She hid it well with makeup, but she couldn’t change the effects of years of smoking. She looked older than he remembered from school, worn . . . used.
“Why don’t you let me give you a tour
of the house? I’m sure we could find ourselves a nice, quiet spot to sit and get acquainted.” Her finger slithered up his arm. “I could let you . . . probe . . . the inner recesses of my mind.”
Ethan nearly laughed. Not in a million years.
“Ethan?” Samantha’s voice rang out to his right. “I’m ready to leave.”
Ethan looked her way, and when he saw her backlit by the warmth from the house, her curly dark hair falling around her shoulders and her lithe body wrapped in that sinful jumpsuit, the tightness in his chest eased.
“I am too.” He stepped away from Margaret. “Really ready.”
Margaret drew another long breath from her cigarette as Ethan moved around her. “Sam.” The word was punctuated by a wave of smoke. “There you are. I’d almost forgotten you were here.” She glanced at Ethan and grinned. “We weren’t talking about you in the least.”
“I’m sure you weren’t.” Samantha looked toward Ethan. “I’m ready anytime you are.”
“Leaving before the big speech?” Margaret waved her cigarette. “Jeff will be so disappointed.”
“Actually,” Samantha lifted her brows, “he read me the speech privately when we were talking earlier. But I’m sure you’ll enjoy it when he reads it for everyone else. Good night, Margaret.”
Samantha turned and headed back into the house.
Ethan drew in a deep breath as he watched Samantha leave then looked back at Margaret. “Thanks for the hospitality.”
“Anytime.” Margaret puffed on her cigarette again and sent him one last lusty look. “We’ll finish this some other time, doctor.”
Not if he could help it.
Samantha was already halfway through the great room by the time Ethan caught up with her, and one look at her tense back told him she was ticked.
He waited while she said good-bye to David Burke, did the same, and followed her toward the front of the house. Thankfully, Branson, Kellogg, and Saunders were nowhere to be seen, but at the moment he barely cared. All he could focus on was the fact that Samantha’s shoulders were tight as a drum and she refused to speak or even look his way as they retrieved their coats and moved out the front door.
Shit. She thought there’d been something going on between him and Margaret.
“Samantha.” He handed the valet his ticket when he reached the bottom step and waited while the man hurried off before he turned to her. “That wasn’t what it looked like.”
Snowflakes dotted Samantha’s hair and cheeks and nose. “It was exactly what it looked like. She had ‘wanton slut’ written all over her, and you fell right into her trap.”
A wisp of panic spread beneath Ethan’s ribs. He reached for her arm. “I’m not interested in Margaret Wilcox.”
“Do I look like an idiot? I know you’re not.” The valet pulled the car to a stop in front of them. As soon as he popped the driver’s side door, Samantha tugged free from Ethan’s grip and rounded the hood. “And I hate to burst your bubble, Ethan, but she doesn’t want you, she’s just using you to get at me.”
The valet sprinted around the car to grab the door for her. More confused than before, Ethan watched her climb in and tried to figure out what was going on.
She wasn’t the least bit jealous? He’d been jealous as hell when he’d seen her standing with Branson. Wanted to punch something every time he pictured the guy sliding a possessive arm around her waist as if he owned her. And just the thought of her alone with Jeff Kellogg, getting a private reading of his speech, made him see red.
He waited for the valet to come back around, handed the guy a tip, and climbed into the driver’s seat. Had he missed something? Misread her? Sure, she’d pulled away from his kiss in the woods, but he’d thought that was because of Grimly. And tonight, she’d worn that sexy jumpsuit for their date. But had the outfit been for him? Or someone else? Someone at the party? A knot formed in his belly when he thought back to the way she’d leaned into Branson. And in a whir he realized she hadn’t greeted Ethan with any kind of affection like that when he’d arrived to pick her up, just a smile.
The BMW’s headlights bounced along the slick pavement and reflected off tree trunks lining the long drive. While they’d been inside, the snow had picked up, and a fresh layer of white now covered everything, even the road. Reality trickled in as he gripped the wheel. If he didn’t get out of Hidden Falls soon, he might not make it home tonight.
That was all he needed after this horrendous day. To get stuck here one more night. He turned onto the highway. Snow barreled toward them. The windshield wipers snapped back and forth, filling the car with a rhythmic whup, whup, whup as he licked his wounded pride and reminded himself he’d walked right into this one. Samantha Parker had told him point-blank that she wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship. And he hadn’t listened.
“I cannot stand that woman.” Beside him, Samantha rested her elbow on the windowsill and rubbed her forehead. “I swear to God she’s got horns underneath all that hair. Did you see her? Oh my God. Did you see her? Her husband is just inside, and she’s practically throwing herself at you out on the verandah. And there were reporters there. My God, she is the biggest slut I’ve ever met.”
Great. She was worried about Jeff Kellogg? That was all Ethan needed to hear. He gripped the steering wheel tighter.
“She’s been pulling crap like this my whole life. If I have something and she doesn’t, she makes a point of worming her way in. She still can’t get past the fact Jeff and I went out.”
“You dated the guy?” The words were out before Ethan could stop them.
“Not really. I mean, he took me to my senior prom. We went out a few times after that, but it wasn’t serious or anything. Margaret wasn’t even interested in him until she found out. I don’t even know why the hell he married her.”
Ethan’s jaw clenched, and he forced himself to refocus on the road.
“And she knows I showed up with you,” Samantha went on. “That’s why she was out there coming on to you.”
Large white flakes flitted in front of the vehicle’s headlights, the snowfall thickening, cutting down the visibility. His pride took another direct hit. “Nice to know it had nothing to do with me.”
Samantha glanced his way, the first time since they’d climbed into the car. “I didn’t mean it that way. She thinks you’re hot. She mentioned it way before we started . . . ” She looked back ahead. “Well, you know.”
The lilt to her words caused Ethan to look at her. She smoothed the hair back from her face in that adorable anxious move that did weird things to his blood. “Since we started what?”
Samantha frowned. “You know.”
“Dating?”
“I was going to say hanging out.”
That little bit of hope he’d felt crashed and burned. Ethan frowned and refocused on the road.
“Look. I’m really not in the mood for a noisy restaurant anymore. Can we just head back to my house?”
“Sure.” Ethan tried to hide his disappointment. Maybe it was for the best. It was a stupid idea to get involved with anyone from Hidden Falls.
She was silent during the rest of the drive, her gaze focused on the snow falling around them. When he pulled into her driveway and stopped the car, she climbed out before he could walk around and get her door.
He held her at the elbow as they crossed the snowy yard so she didn’t slip in the strappy heels. Once they were on the covered porch, he let go of her and checked his watch. It was a little after ten. If he left now, he could be home and parked in front of ESPN in as little as ninety minutes.
Samantha turned the key and pushed the heavy door open with her hip. Grimly’s nails clicked along the hardwood floor as he barked and rushed toward her, his tail wagging wildly. Samantha bent to rub his ears.
“So I’m gonna head on out,” Ethan said.
“What?” Samantha turned quickly. “No, you’re not.”
“I’m not?”
“No.” Grasping the sleeve o
f his coat, she tugged him into the house and closed the door at his back. “I don’t want you to leave, Ethan. I’m just not in the mood for a lot of people.”
She pulled the scarf from around her neck and tossed it on the bench by the front door. Her coat followed. Peeling his jacket from his shoulders, she threw it on top of hers before heading down the hall toward the kitchen. Grimly followed with a bounce in his step.
Ethan stared after her, seriously confused. The woman was sending him all kinds of mixed messages. Or maybe he was just reading them wrong. He rubbed his forehead.
“Aren’t you coming?” she called.
He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Like he was leaving now. Just the sound of that sexy schoolteacher voice made him lose all common sense.
She stood at the kitchen counter pouring a shot of bourbon as he entered the room. Lifting the glass to her lips, she threw back the shot, licked her lips, and eyed him over the glass. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” God, she was gorgeous, and he bet she didn’t even know it. Light from the lamp across the room cast shadows on her smooth skin, accentuating her movements. He loved the way she moved. Jerky sometimes. Smooth at others. Unsure when she was around him, which he really liked. He could watch her for hours.
“Like I’m an alcoholic. I’m not. I rarely drink. But that woman . . . ” She lowered the glass and filled another shot. “I swear, she knows just how to push my buttons. Do you want one?”
Why the hell not? It’d been a pretty shitty night so far. He stepped into the kitchen. “Sure.”
She grabbed another glass from the cupboard, poured a shot, and handed it to him. Lifting her glass, she said, “Cheers.”
The golden liquid warmed his throat as it went down, a hard punch to the gut where it settled. Heat slowly spread through his limbs, warming his muscles one by one.
“I should have warned you about Dot Appleton,” Samantha said. “I saw she had you cornered.”
He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m a big boy. I think I can handle one nosy bookseller.”