“You’re going to get yourself killed if you don’t stay out of Nash’s way.”
Oh, that conversation. “I didn’t exactly go looking for him.” That part was true. “He came to me.”
“Because you were what?” Braddock braked for a light, shot her a dark glower. “Going around asking questions about one of his girls? After having given Jenkins the slip? The man is already skating on thin ice. Do you want to help him get fired?”
She hadn’t thought about that. “None of the village residents would talk to me with him following me around. I was desperate to find Celeste.” Besides, Braddock should be utilizing his time trying to find Shelley’s killer, not keeping up with CJ’s activities. She could take care of herself.
Flashes of a message scrawled in blood on her wall, and then more blood poured over her sheets while she slept, had her backtracking on that one.
“I don’t know how to get this through your head.” The light turned green and he set the SUV back in motion. “You can’t keep taking these risks.”
“If I don’t, who will?” That was the real question here. “Everyone’s afraid. No one will stand up to Tyrone.”
Silence throbbed inside the car.
She was right and Braddock knew it.
Something Tyrone had said to her bobbed to the surface of her churning thoughts. “The blood.” She chewed her lip to stop its quivering. “It wasn’t Ricky’s.”
“I know. I got a call from the lab an hour ago. The blood on your sheets didn’t belong to Banks, but it was human. I drove over to the Appleton house to give you the news, but you weren’t there. It took me a while to track you down.”
“You have my cell number.” She patted her pocket. “You didn’t try to call me.” He hadn’t wanted to call. He’d wanted to see what she was doing. “If you were that worried, why didn’t you call?”
“Because,” he admitted, “unlike Jenkins, I knew where to look. I’ve been following you around since you left the meeting with Cost at the clinic.”
CJ wanted to be mad. She wanted to yell at him. But she wasn’t stupid. She was grateful. Tyrone could have dragged her into his SUV and killed her the same way he probably had Celeste.
“It’s Celeste. He killed her.” The realization drained any remaining fight out of her. This was her responsibility. She’d gotten that girl murdered.
“You can’t be certain of that.” Another of those sidelong glances shot her way.
“It’s true.” CJ leaned against the headrest. She was tired. All of this was unbelievable. She’d stayed to help find her sister’s killer and she’d gotten dragged into the muck and mire of Tyrone’s dirty underworld. How could she get herself out and still learn the truth about her sister’s murder?
“Did Nash say that?”
“Of course he didn’t.” Why was Braddock patronizing her? “He said something like if I didn’t stay out of his business, the next time I woke up and found blood all over me it would be mine. It isn’t a confession, but I got the message.”
Braddock’s jaw started that rhythmic pulsing again, but he said nothing.
She’d just told him that Tyrone had committed a murder! What was wrong with him? “You have nothing to say? Shouldn’t you go question Tyrone or something?”
He cut her another of those looks. “You know the answer to that. It’s a little thing called lack of evidence.”
More of that thick silence.
She frowned as he slowed for a turn off Whitesburg. “Where’re we going?” She’d expected that he would just drive around, then take her back to the parking lot.
“Someplace where we won’t be interrupted.” He glanced at her. “While I try to get it through your head once and for all that you’re making yourself an easy target.”
“We have to go back to my rental car first. I didn’t lock the door and my bag is in there.”
He didn’t argue or complain, just executed a U-turn and headed back to the medical plaza parking lot.
She studied his profile as he drove. She wished she could read his mind. Could see all his secrets.
There was a mystery she doubted could be solved in several lifetimes.
Once she had her bag and her rental was locked, they headed to his place. Braddock lived in a condo near Whitesburg Drive’s shopping and restaurant district. Like all good Huntsville views, his balcony looked out over the treed mountains that flanked the city. What she’d seen of the condo confirmed what she knew so far about the man. The decorating was nice, probably here when he moved in, but there were no personal touches. Nothing that defined the man beneath the unreadable exterior.
