settled with a grunt beside the body.
“You want an exclusive, Mrs. Stuart?” He reached down and rolled the body over without looking at it, his gaze riveted to Elizabeth's face. “Here's a Kodak moment for you, Liz. Snap a few shots for the old scrapbook while you're at it. Be sure to get that charming smile—the one below his second chin.”
Tears welled in Elizabeth's eyes as she relived the horror of what she had discovered two long hours before. She choked them back with an effort and glared at Dane Jantzen, in that moment hating him about as much as she hated anything. “Jesus Christ, you're a bastard,” she spat out.
“Don't you forget it, honey.” He rose, pulling her up with him, and turned to hand her over to Spencer, but Kenny had inadvertently gotten an eyeful of Jarvis and was leaning on the trunk of the Lincoln throwing up on his boots.
“Ellstrom!” Dane barked at the deputy, who stood staring blankly down at the body. “Take Mrs. Stuart to the station and make her comfortable. She'll be giving us a statement later on.”
Ellstrom pulled his gaze away from Jarvis. A worry line creased up between his brows. “But the lab guys—”
“Will muddle through without your expert supervision,” Dane said dryly, handling Elizabeth over by the elbow.
“I'll give you a statement all right, Sheriff.” She jerked her arm free of Ellstrom's clammy grasp and took an aggressive step toward Jantzen. A particularly insulting and vulgar suggestion sprang to mind, but she couldn't get the words past her tongue as she stared up at him. The expression in his eyes was too mocking, too amused. He would undoubtedly laugh at her if she lost control and smirk at her if she backed down. It was a no-win situation. The thing she longed to do most was kick him, but she didn't need to add assaulting an officer to everything else that had gone wrong today.
“At a loss for words, Mrs. Stuart?” he asked, arching a brow.
“No,” she snarled through clenched teeth. “I just can't seem to find one bad enough to call you.”
“There's a thesaurus on my desk. Feel free to use it.”
“Don't tempt me, sugar,” she said as she took a step back toward the waiting deputy. “What I'd like to do with it wouldn't exactly be good for the binding.”
Dane chuckled in spite of the fact that he disliked her. She had a lot of sass . . . and a backside that could make a man's palms sweat, he observed as she sauntered away with Ellstrom. She moved like sin. And the way she filled out a pair of jeans was enough to make Levi Strauss rise from the dead.
It was too damn bad she was nothing but trouble.
FOUR
B OYD ELLSTROM PILOTED THE CRUISER DOWN THE drive, away from the resort and the swarm of reporters that had attempted to descend on the car. That son of a bitch Jantzen would grab what glory he could with the press, but Boyd was the one escorting the star witness away from the crime scene. More than one camera had captured that on film and videotape. He made a mental note to get as many copies of the photos as he could. They would come in handy when the next election rolled around.
Yessirree, the way he saw it, nothing but good could come from old Jarrold biting the big one. Dying was probably the only thing the old fart had ever done that would benefit others more than it did himself. Jarrold wasn't going to get anything out of it but a chance to rot in the ground. Boyd, on the other hand, was looking at a much rosier future—provided he found a certain IOU before anyone else stumbled onto it.
The idea of that damned note floating around had his bowels twisting like a snake in its death throes. He wished for a Tums.
Jarvis had always kept to himself the names of the people who owed him money and favors. As much as he had enjoyed publicly lording it over other people, he had gotten off just as much on the feeling of playing God, manipulating with unseen hands, giving and taking at will. He had kept all the damning
“You want an exclusive, Mrs. Stuart?” He reached down and rolled the body over without looking at it, his gaze riveted to Elizabeth's face. “Here's a Kodak moment for you, Liz. Snap a few shots for the old scrapbook while you're at it. Be sure to get that charming smile—the one below his second chin.”
Tears welled in Elizabeth's eyes as she relived the horror of what she had discovered two long hours before. She choked them back with an effort and glared at Dane Jantzen, in that moment hating him about as much as she hated anything. “Jesus Christ, you're a bastard,” she spat out.
“Don't you forget it, honey.” He rose, pulling her up with him, and turned to hand her over to Spencer, but Kenny had inadvertently gotten an eyeful of Jarvis and was leaning on the trunk of the Lincoln throwing up on his boots.
“Ellstrom!” Dane barked at the deputy, who stood staring blankly down at the body. “Take Mrs. Stuart to the station and make her comfortable. She'll be giving us a statement later on.”
Ellstrom pulled his gaze away from Jarvis. A worry line creased up between his brows. “But the lab guys—”
“Will muddle through without your expert supervision,” Dane said dryly, handling Elizabeth over by the elbow.
“I'll give you a statement all right, Sheriff.” She jerked her arm free of Ellstrom's clammy grasp and took an aggressive step toward Jantzen. A particularly insulting and vulgar suggestion sprang to mind, but she couldn't get the words past her tongue as she stared up at him. The expression in his eyes was too mocking, too amused. He would undoubtedly laugh at her if she lost control and smirk at her if she backed down. It was a no-win situation. The thing she longed to do most was kick him, but she didn't need to add assaulting an officer to everything else that had gone wrong today.
“At a loss for words, Mrs. Stuart?” he asked, arching a brow.
“No,” she snarled through clenched teeth. “I just can't seem to find one bad enough to call you.”
“There's a thesaurus on my desk. Feel free to use it.”
“Don't tempt me, sugar,” she said as she took a step back toward the waiting deputy. “What I'd like to do with it wouldn't exactly be good for the binding.”
Dane chuckled in spite of the fact that he disliked her. She had a lot of sass . . . and a backside that could make a man's palms sweat, he observed as she sauntered away with Ellstrom. She moved like sin. And the way she filled out a pair of jeans was enough to make Levi Strauss rise from the dead.
It was too damn bad she was nothing but trouble.
FOUR
B OYD ELLSTROM PILOTED THE CRUISER DOWN THE drive, away from the resort and the swarm of reporters that had attempted to descend on the car. That son of a bitch Jantzen would grab what glory he could with the press, but Boyd was the one escorting the star witness away from the crime scene. More than one camera had captured that on film and videotape. He made a mental note to get as many copies of the photos as he could. They would come in handy when the next election rolled around.
Yessirree, the way he saw it, nothing but good could come from old Jarrold biting the big one. Dying was probably the only thing the old fart had ever done that would benefit others more than it did himself. Jarrold wasn't going to get anything out of it but a chance to rot in the ground. Boyd, on the other hand, was looking at a much rosier future—provided he found a certain IOU before anyone else stumbled onto it.
The idea of that damned note floating around had his bowels twisting like a snake in its death throes. He wished for a Tums.
Jarvis had always kept to himself the names of the people who owed him money and favors. As much as he had enjoyed publicly lording it over other people, he had gotten off just as much on the feeling of playing God, manipulating with unseen hands, giving and taking at will. He had kept all the damning
Similar Books
The I.P.O.
Dan Koontz
Doctor Knows Best
Ann Jennings
To Wed A Viscount
Adrienne Basso
Beautiful Bad Man
Ellen O'Connell
Your Magic Touch
Kathy Carmichael
I.D.
Vicki Grant
Unexpected
Lori Foster
One More Little Problem
Vanessa Curtis