me,” she told him.
“I usual y do.”
As soon as he got off the phone, he retrieved a clean garbage bag and went looking in his trash for Mary Elizabeth’s bloodied clothes. She hadn’t exactly tried to conceal them. They were right on top, in plain view. He took that as a good sign. Less positive was the fact that there was a lot of blood, more than a person would get checking a man’s pulse. Was there as much as if she’d shot her husband at close range, maybe even struggled with him as he bled? Tucker didn’t even want to speculate on that. He’d leave it to the experts.
He turned and saw Mary Elizabeth regarding him uneasily. Her gaze shifted to the trash bag, then back to his face.
“Tucker?”
He met her gaze. “What?”
“Are you going to arrest me?”
“I won’t even be involved in the decision,” he told her.
Something that looked like panic flickered in her eyes. “Why not?”
“Because by coming here, and because we have a past history, you’ve made sure I have to take myself off the case.”
“But—”
He cut her off. “That’s the way it has to be, Mary Elizabeth. You know that. I’ve got my best deputy heading over to Swan Ridge right now.”
“Oh, God,” she whispered. “What have I done?”
Tucker’s blood ran cold. “Why do you say that?”
“I wanted you to handle this.”
The icy fist kept a firm grip on his insides. “Because you thought I’d protect you?”
“No. Because I trust you.”
Tucker wanted desperately to believe that’s al it was, that she hadn’t come here hoping to use their past to keep him from delving too deeply into the circumstances surrounding Chandler’s death.
“I hope you’re tel ing me the truth.”
There was genuine hurt in her eyes when she met his gaze. “I’ve never lied to you. Never. ”
“I think maybe that’s open to interpretation,” he said quietly. “But what’s done is done. Al I care about is whether you’re being honest now.”
“I am. I swear it.”
He nodded. “Then we’l deal with the rest as it comes.”
“Together?”
He thought of the sensible reply and the one that came from his heart. “Together,” he agreed.
Al he could do was pray that he wouldn’t live to regret it.
3
T ucker had made one serious miscalculation when he’d caled Daisy. He’d forgotten that Mary Elizabeth’s very distinctive car—a Jaguar with vanity plates he’d sometimes spotted driving too fast on the county’s back roads—had to be parked somewhere in the vicinity. He hadn’t noticed it the night before, but it was a sure bet she hadn’t walked to his house from Swan Ridge.
He realized his mistake when his sister came barreling into the kitchen like an avenging angel and tossed a bagful of clothes straight at him. The heavy bag caught him right in the gut. She always had had a great arm, to say nothing of an amazing protective streak when it came to him and Bobby.
“I sincerely hope those clothes are not for Mary Elizabeth,” she said, staring him down.
“What makes you think they are?” he replied defensively.
“Because that’s her fancy car sitting in plain view in front of your house. I’m not stupid, Tucker. Neither is anyone else in this town.” She regarded him with a worried frown. “I hope to heaven you know what you’re doing.”
“I do,” he said, tucking a hand under her elbow and steering her straight toward the door without wasting time on the explanation she was so obviously hoping for. “Thanks for coming over here so quickly.”
“Why does a woman with a designer wardrobe need my clothes?” Daisy inquired testily. “You two going somewhere incognito? I hate to tel you this, but it wil take more than a change of clothes to pul that off.”
Tucker sighed. “No questions, remember?”
“The woman broke your heart,” his sister said fiercely. “Have you forgotten that?”
“Not for a minute.”
“If you say so,” she said, her doubt plain. “In my experience,