She counted the money. “This is more than you’re supposed to pay me.”
He pulled into traffic and headed west on East Twelfth. “I’d like more of your time, Bluebonnet.”
She tucked the money in her shoe. “Okay.”
“Thank you, Bluebonnet.”
She cocked her head. “Why do you call me Bluebonnet? My name is Hanna.”
“Have you ever seen bluebonnets?”
“They’re pretty. Purple.”
“Pretty like you.”
She stared out the window. “Bluebonnet is not my name.”
Chapter Eight
Monday, April 8, 3:00 P.M.
Brody and Santos returned to the burial site to walk the land without Sunday’s chaos. They got out of the Bronco. Already the heat had evaporated the moisture from Saturday’s rain and dried the air. The area remained secure with an officer guarding the site.
A hundred-foot area around the collapsing barn had been roped off. The unearthed graves remained open and raw and several forensic technicians still worked around the graves.
After Brody and Santos spoke to the officers on duty they started to reexamine the site. “No other bodies were found in the immediate area yesterday or this morning,” Santos said.
Brody let his gaze trail over the open land of knee-high grass, brushy trees and rolling hills. Nothing caught his attention.
“What if the killer isn’t an apprentice? Hell, we only have Smith’s word that there is an apprentice,” Santos said. “What if he was one of Smith’s fans? Maddox said the guy had lots of people writing him. Women wanted to marry him.”
“The warden just sent me a list of Smith’s fans. There is one in the Austin area that’s been very vocal lately.”
“This fan decides to take Christa and somehow Smith tips the fan off about this site.”
“Not impossible. Smith never mailed correspondence from the prison, but there are other ways to get messages out.”
A cool wind blew over the tops of the grass blades, making them bow slightly. “Off the top of your head, do you remember the name of the fan?”
“Ginnie Dupont.”
“A woman?”
“She fancied herself in love with him. Said she’d do anything for him.”
“She needs a visit.”
“Agreed.”
They walked toward the cluster of three empty graves. “When are you going back to West Livingston to see Smith?”
“Tomorrow morning. I wanted to go today but Maddox says that Smith is very ill. He’s semiconscious at best. A damn miracle that he got out of his sick bed on Saturday.”
“The guy’s been gaming the system since he entered it. Would stand to reason he’d take his last burst of energy to jerk our chains.”
Brody rested his hands on his belt, tapped his right index finger on his gun handle. “What about Neumann?”
“According to his answering service, he’s out showing houses until five. He’s promised to return all calls when he returns.”
“Right.”
They walked the land for the better part of an hour, searching for anything that might shed light on two vicious killers. They found nothing.
Back in the car, Brody fired up the engine and cranked the heat.
“You get the invite to Beck’s wedding?” Santos said.
Brody stared at the horizon. “He gave it to me this morning.”
“Should be fun.”
Brody tightened his hand on the steering wheel. “I’m not much for weddings.”
“Can’t say I am either, but this one is going to be casual. A barbecue. Jo Granger is going.”
Brody shifted into gear and drove back toward the main road. “Jo Granger? How do you know her?”
“We became friends last year when she helped my sister, Maria. Maria’s been struggling since our mom died and Jo took the time to talk to her.”
Brody stopped at a light. “Might as well hear this from me.”
Santos met his gaze. “What, you asked her to go to the wedding? There a snap-crackle-pop between you two?”
Brody shook his head. “No. Our relationship is strictly professional. And I did not ask her to the wedding.” He hated poking around in the past. “But Jo and I do have a past. We were married in college.”
Santos blinked. “Wait. You the baseball jock and Dr. Jolene Granger, the smartest woman in Texas, were married?”
Brody glowered. “You make me sound as dumb as a box of rocks.”
“My friend, most college boys are.”
Brody shrugged. “Well, I won’t pretend that I was a genius. I was failing English literature and needed to get my grades up to stay on the roster. Jo was my tutor. We hit it off and one thing led to another. We married.”
Santos’s gaze narrowed. “I could see you being impulsive, but not Jo. She thinks three steps ahead.”
Except for that first night they slept together. But he refused to tell Santos about that, the unwanted pregnancy or the miscarriage. That information was too personal. If Jo wanted to share with Santos, so be it, but he wouldn’t. “Lots of kids do foolish things in college.”
Santos shook his head. “Shit. I didn’t expect that. She’s never mentioned an ex-husband, but she’s a pretty private gal. And I don’t know her all that well . . . yet.”
A knot twisted in Brody’s gut. He had no claim on Jo. And Lord knows that woman deserved happiness. So why did he want to punch Santos in the face? Damn.
“No lingering feelings between you two?” Santos said. “Cards on the table now. If I’m poaching I’ll stay clear.”
Yeah, back the fuck off. “No. The last couple of days have been business. I tracked her for Smith.”
A curious smile curled the edges of Santos’s lips. “Last chance, hombre. I warn you now, I like that lady a lot.”
“She’s all yours.”
“No take-b
acks.”
Fuck.
It was past four when Jo dashed downstairs to the coffee shop, grabbed a sandwich and returned to her office. Maybe if she hustled, she could make up the lost time and put a dent in the paperwork.
She studied the pink message slips piled high on her chair and groaned. She’d be here until tomorrow at the rate this day was going.
Snatching up the slips, she sat in her chair, placed her purse on the credenza behind her and opened her sandwich.
“I talked to Dayton’s attorney.”
Her mouthful of turkey and rye, she met Dr. Anderson’s gaze, chewed and swallowed. “I assume he’s not happy.”
“He was hoping for a thumbs up from us. He didn’t like your assessment: ‘cold-blooded sociopath.’”
She wiped her hands with a paper napkin. “I read up on him after the interview, and I am more convinced of his guilt.”
He chuckled. “I pay you for your honest opinion. It’s what I admire about you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I’m being frank.”
“I didn’t get a chance to ask but what were you doing this weekend? I heard the Rangers corralled you.”
She set her sandwich in the center of her napkin. Dr. Anderson had contacts in all the local and state police agencies, and she always assumed now he knew more about what was going on than she. “I’m surprised you don’t know all the details.”
He grinned. “I know the high points, like you identifying the victim.”
“I made a guess. Are you telling me I was right?”
“You were exactly right. And now there is talk of the Rangers returning to West Livingston to talk to Smith tomorrow.”
She scrolled quickly through her cell inbox for a message from Brody. There was none. “And when are they going?”
“Depends on Smith and how he’s doing. He’s in bad shape.”
Frustration rose up in her. Brody should have called her and clued her in on what was happening. He wouldn’t have a crime scene if not for her. “I want to go with the Rangers back to West Livingston.”
He shrugged. “You can push off the appointments you have tomorrow, but Wednesday you have court.”