Long, Tall Texans_ Boone (Long, Tall Texans #35) - Diana Palmer Page 0,63

Keely’s house and speak with her mother,” Hayes said. “I’m going back in tonight because we’ve got a case pending, but I’m off tomorrow.” He wagged his finger at Boone. “You go home and wash your mouth out with soap.”

Boone put an affectionate arm around his shoulders. “You’re the only man I know who thinks ‘Crackers and Milk’ is a curse.”

“I give talks to little kids about drugs,” he pointed out. “What if I slipped in front of a classroom of kids?”

“They probably know more bad words than you do,” Winnie chipped in, grinning. “You should hear some of their parents talk on the phone when they call for the police to come.”

Hayes winced. “I know. I have to hear them.” He grinned at Winnie. “You know, you’re pretty good on that radio. Kilraven likes having you on duty. He says you brighten up dark nights.”

“He does?” Winnie’s face became radiant.

“Cut that out,” Boone said severely. “She’s going to go back to college and get a degree and marry an educated man.”

“I am not going back to college,” Winnie said pleasantly. “I don’t want a degree, and I’m not marrying any man, educated or otherwise, until it pleases me.”

“So there.” Hayes chuckled.

Boone glowered at her. She glowered back.

“I, uh, wouldn’t get too hopeful about Kilraven,” Hayes said gently, a little embarrassed. “He’s had some tragedy in his life. He may act normal, but he hasn’t gotten over the trauma.”

Winnie moved closer to him. “Talk to me, Carson,” she said quietly, using his last name, as she always did when she was really serious.

“A few years ago,” he said quietly, “there was a violent murder up in San Antonio. Kilraven was working undercover there at the time, with the local police. It was a rainy Saturday night—when we always have dozens of wrecks—and he and his partner were closer than the patrol units, most of whom were tied up, so they volunteered to secure the crime scene. Kilraven recognized the address and ran in, before his partner could stop him.” Hayes closed his eyes. “It was bad. Really bad.” He paused. “What I’m telling you is that the man is an emotional trainwreck looking for a place to happen, regardless of his seeming composure. He’s not going to put down roots in Jacobsville, Texas. He’s put off dealing with his trauma too long. One day, he’ll crash and burn.”

“Did he know the murder victims?” Winnie asked hesitantly.

“He was related to them,” Hayes said. “And that’s all I’m saying about it.”

Winnie wondered which relatives were involved. Poor man! “Did you speak to Dr. Coltrain about how soon we can take Keely home?” she asked her brother.

Boone shook his head. “No. But I will. I can guarantee it won’t be tonight.”

She managed a smile. Hayes had dashed her dreams to bits. She didn’t want it to show. “I’m going home to get some sleep. You coming?” she asked Boone.

He hesitated. “I guess so.” He looked at himself and grimaced. “I should have gone home and changed.”

“Nobody will notice.” She sighed. “A lot of people have been here all day and half the night, waiting for hope to make results.” She indicated two families with white faces and red eyes. She smiled at them. They smiled back. Friends were made easily in emergency rooms. She said she was going home and asked if they needed anything that she could bring them. But they shook their heads. There were things they needed, but they didn’t dare leave until they knew something. She understood.

* * *

WINNIE AND BOONE slept for a while and then drove back to the hospital. They ate breakfast in the cafeteria without tasting what they ate, and drank black coffee.

“What did you say to Keely?” she asked.

His eyes were tortured. “Too much,” he bit off. He looked down into his empty coffee cup. “Those damned photos were so convincing!” He realized, too, that Keely hadn’t been trying to seduce him when she started to unbutton her blouse. She was going to show him the scars. It was an act of bravery that he hadn’t appreciated at the time. Now, it hurt him.

“She’ll be all right,” Winnie assured him. “You can make peace.”

He laughed hollowly. “Think so?”

The cafeteria door opened and Hayes Carson came in. He wasn’t smiling. He made a beeline for the Sinclairs.

“I need to talk to you,” he said tersely, looking around to make sure he wasn’t being overheard. “I just found Ella Welsh, dead in her living room!”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“DEAD?”