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Andy looked unsure. "Ski's on his way out to the motel to question the owner again."
"That's right. He wants to confront her with that evidence."
"He ... I'm sorry, Mr. Hanley, but when I talked to Ski ... wasn't but a couple of minutes before you got here ... he--"
"He didn't say anything over the phone about it, did he?"
"No, that's why--"
"Whew, good," Dodge said, pretending to be vastly relieved. "The man's got a lot on his mind. I thought he might've slipped."
"Ski? Slipped?"
"You know, slip of the tongue. Tired as he is--I don't think he's slept since Friday night--he might have forgot that he was holding that evidence in abeyance."
"Abeyance?"
"You know, from the media."
"Media?"
"The radio station, son. Where've you been? Ski's got the local station broadcasting bulletins about Oren Starks every ten minutes or so."
"I know that, but--"
"Well, the media can be useful to us, no question. Puts Joe Q. Public on the alert. But we don't want the evidence we've got on Starks broadcast to every yahoo in East Texas, do we?"
"No, sir, but--"
"And Starks is listening to the radio, too. You can bet on it, son. Ski doesn't want him to know the goods we got last night."
The young man's eyes brightened. "So when he's caught, we can use those photos of Ms. Malone to trip him up."
Dodge's stomach dropped. It took every deception skill he possessed to look happy as he slapped the young deputy on the shoulder and said heartily, "There you go." He stuffed the remainder of the doughnut into his mouth and checked his wristwatch. "Ski put me on a deadline."
Andy got up and disappeared into a cubbyhole of an office, emerging a few seconds later with a Ziploc bag with a manila folder inside. "You gotta sign--"
Dodge snatched the plastic bag from him. "Ski said not to stand on ceremony. No time for it today."
Dodge thanked him and, with the evidence bag tucked under his arm, got the hell out of there.
The desired nap didn't pan out as Berry had hoped.
She had deserted the scene of the kiss with a cowardice equaling Ski's, fleeing the kitchen and leaving Dodge and her mother without an explanation. Upstairs, she showered, slid naked between the cool sheets, closed her burning eyes, and willed her mind to shut down and allow her body to fall asleep.
But neither her mind nor her body cooperated. Thoughts of Ski Nyland persisted. Images of them in sexual scenarios flitted through her mind, making her body restless, actually feverish in places impossible to ignore, places where she wanted to feel his eyes and hands and mouth on her.
Considering the tragedy that had taken place the night before, her lust seemed particularly ill-timed. Disgusted with herself, she threw off the covers, got up, and dressed.
When she went downstairs, she found her mother seated at the dining table, sorting through her MLS directory, making notes, cell phone within reach. "You're working?" Berry asked.
Caroline removed her reading glasses. "It's Sunday. People house-shop on Sundays. I've delegated scheduled showings to other agents, but I'm checking just to make sure all my bases are covered."
"You should try and sleep for a while."
"Waste of time."
"Well I know," Berry admitted with chagrin. "Where's Dodge?"
