Murder in the Smokies - By Paula Graves Page 0,28
address for Davenport Trucking on his phone and arrived on West Sperry Road to find the trucking company was a sprawling warehouse-style office complex in the middle of an otherwise rural area just outside the city. From the parking lot, the rounded peaks of Chilhowee Mountain formed a velvety blue horizon to the east.
Sutton stood by his truck for a moment, gazing at the mountains, struck by a powerful ache that settled in the middle of his chest. He hadn’t called Bitterwood home in years, but the Smokies still had the power to steal his breath with their sheer blue beauty.
He dragged his gaze away and crossed the parking lot to the glass door marked Main Office. As he entered, a bell on the door clattered overhead. A slim black woman in her thirties looked up and smiled. “Can I help you?”
Before he could answer, the bell rang over the door behind him. He turned at the sound, his eyes widening at the sight of the newcomer.
Ivy Hawkins stood in the doorway, staring at him. Her expression shifted from surprise to suspicion, her dark eyes snapping. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Chapter Seven
It took a second for Sutton to school his features into his customary inscrutable mask, but it was enough. Ivy saw a ripple of guilt pass over his face before he shuttered his expression. At the same time, he seemed genuinely surprised to see her here.
“I came to look up an old friend,” he answered, his voice carefully void of inflection.
“Yeah? What old friend?”
She noted the slight tightening of his mouth before he answered. “Seth Hammond. His sister said he’s working here now.”
Since when was Seth Hammond a friend? Sure, Sutton and Seth had been tight as ticks when they were boys, but by the time Sutton shook the dust of Bitterwood off his boots, he and Seth had been enemies.
“Why are you here?” Sutton asked.
“Following up a lead.”
“This is the company you were talking about.” Sutton’s brow furrowed.
“Coincidence, huh?”
He looked a little defensive. “Yeah, definitely a coincidence.”
“You’re looking for Seth Hammond?” the receptionist behind the desk interrupted. “He’s probably out in the fleet garage. Third building on the right.”
“Thanks.” Sutton turned back to Ivy. “I’ll head on out there now.”
“Wait.” Ivy caught his arm as he started to pass her.
He gazed down at her with hazel-eyed intensity that made her insides tremble. “Yeah?”
“Seth Hammond works here?”
“Looks like.”
“When did you find that out? I thought you didn’t know where he was anymore.”
“I talked to his sister last night and she mentioned he was living here in Maryville now, working for Davenport Trucking. I thought I should drop by and say hello, see if he’s really on the straight and narrow this time. For Delilah’s sake.” He cocked his head slightly. “What’s your lead?”
She was tempted to tell him, if for no other reason than to make sure she wasn’t simply grasping at straws about the Davenport connection. But she couldn’t just go around spilling all her operational secrets to virtual strangers, no matter how good her memories were—or how damned hot he looked in a pair of jeans. “I’m not at liberty to discuss it.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay.”
She softened her tone. “Did you find anything to eat this morning?”
He smiled. “I might have raided your egg bin for an omelet.”
She smiled back. “Feel free to raid the rest of the fridge for lunch if you like.”
“Actually, I was thinking about grabbing something at J.T.’s Barbecue on my way back to Bitterwood,” he said. “Think you’ll be finished here by lunchtime?”
“Probably.”
“Why don’t I hang around then?” he suggested. “We can grab lunch together.”
“Okay,” she agreed, trying not to grin like an idiot. She watched him leave, her gaze dropping helplessly to his denim-clad backside.
Behind her, the receptionist let out a deep sigh. “That man sure can wear the hell out of a pair of jeans.”
Ivy turned to look at the receptionist, biting back a grin. She crossed to the desk and flashed her shield. “I’m Ivy Hawkins with the Bitterwood Police Department. I have some questions about a couple of former employees. Who do I talk to?”
* * *
THE MAINTENANCE GARAGE two doors down from the main office turned out to be an enormous one-story building with tall retractable doors built in to accommodate a variety of trucks, from local delivery box vans to large eighteen-wheel big rigs.
When Sutton entered the garage, only four trucks were parked inside, two big rigs with full trailers, a large box truck