The Search The Secrets of Crittenden Cou - By Shelley Shepard Gray Page 0,55
rookie cop with a chip on his shoulder.
Still stewing on it, Luke drummed his fingers on his steering wheel and prepared to steel himself against her injuries. And from her blue eyes.
When his phone chirped, he put the car into park, and picked up his cell in relief. Any excuse to procrastinate was welcome. “Hey, Mose. Great to hear from you.”
“I haven’t been greeted like that since my grandmother was still living,” Mose quipped.
Embarrassed that Mose was right—he’d answered the line like his buddy was his long-lost cousin—Luke asked, “Most people aren’t that happy to hear from you? Not even your mom?”
Mose chuckled. “Luke, most folks start worrying about parking tickets and speed traps when I call them out of the blue. But my mamm? Well, she always focuses on my bachelor status.”
Luke smiled. “My mom only pointed out my flaws when she was trying to make me feel guilty so she could get me to do something I didn’t want to do.”
“My mamm’s good at that, too. She can name my failings quicker than most folks can say jackrabbit. So . . . care to tell me what brought on your happy greeting?”
“Our earlier conversation.”
Immediately, Mose’s tone turned businesslike. “You still thinking about the sunglasses?”
“Yeah.” He ran his fingers through his hair, wishing time would slow down so he wouldn’t feel like he had no choice about what to do next. “I’m getting ready to question Frannie about those Oakleys.”
Mose sighed. “I’m not sure what those sunglasses have to do with Perry’s death, but her not telling us the whole story has wasted quite a bit of precious time.”
Luke frowned. The whole scenario was bizarre. The expensive designer sunglasses had been a strange item to find, strange for Perry to own, and strange for Frannie to lie about. It made something that might have been a peculiar quirk into something of importance. “I hope she has a good reason for not telling you about them.”
“Think she’ll tell you the whole story now?”
“I hope so.” But what did it mean when a woman he was starting to have feelings for lied to him during an investigation?
It was a good warning to himself. He had to stop thinking that any relationships he made here could be long-lasting. If he let himself believe such things, he was only going to get hurt. Solemnly, he said, “I’m still trying to come to terms with the fact that she lied to me, Mose.”
“She didn’t lie to you. She lied to me,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“Think so?” Mose said slowly. “For me, I’m not so sure about . . .” There was a noise in the background, followed by some angry chattering and a door clanging. “Uh-oh. I gotta go, Luke,” Mose blurted before he disconnected with a click.
For a moment, Luke imagined what his friend was dealing with. Any altercation—no matter how small—could always be a danger. He took a moment to pray for Mose’s safety. He’d made the mistake when he’d first arrived to think that nothing dangerous happened in this small area of western Kentucky. Now he was coming to find out he couldn’t have been more full of himself. Or more wrong.
A job in law enforcement wasn’t easy, whether one was patrolling the highways and interstates, working in the housing projects in Cincinnati, or being a sheriff in a rural spot like Crittenden County.
Mose had cases other than just Perry’s murder. And Luke had a whole career to get back to in Cincinnati. He definitely needed to remember that.
He needed to solve this case, stop letting his feelings about acceptance get in the way of his job, and go talk to Frannie. And he intended to stop treating her like some lovesick pup and to start viewing her like the suspect she was.
Finally accepting the inevitable, he jumped out of his truck and strode to the Yellow Bird Inn’s front door. What had to be done had to be done. He needed to ignore his feelings for her and force Frannie to be completely forthcoming about the last time she saw Perry Borntrager.
Even if it ruined their relationship.
When Frannie opened the door, all of Luke’s intentions were immediately forgotten. Her face—what wasn’t bruised and bandaged and sewn together—was white as a sheet. “Frannie, what’s wrong?”
“So much,” she said as she reached out for him, tears bright in her eyes. “Oh, Luke, please. You’ve got to come in and help us.”