Clint_Dark and Dangerous Romantic Suspense by Debra Webb

Author:Debra Webb [Webb, Debra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pink House Press
Published: 2018-11-16T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

9:45 A.M.

Clint sat down with his Styrofoam cup of coffee and considered his limited options for breakfast. Doughnut or candy bar. He’d made a trip to the Sack & Go for something to fill his gut, but he hadn’t spent much time on choices since folks were coming through on their way to church. He didn’t want to endure the way they looked at him. He’d thought he could tolerate it, that nothing could touch him after what he’d been through at Holman, but he’d been wrong.

They could touch him, just like Ray said.

Clint swallowed a slug of coffee and banished the thoughts. He’d get through this. Giving up now was out of the question.

Moving on to the case files would put him on the right track. Someone was definitely getting nervous. Clint had always known that Heather had been the intended victim. He’d watched Emily too closely not to have been aware of any threat to her. He’d wanted her something fierce. Now he’d caused her to be hurt...again.

All those years locked in a cell Clint had lived for this opportunity.

The determined fury that usually zeroed in on Emily wouldn’t stay focused on her. If he could just get her to look past his guilt, to think about the days and weeks before Heather’s murder, she had to know who had it in for her best friend. Who had Heather been at odds with at the time? Who was jealous of her or would have wanted her out of the way?

There had to have been clues leading up to what happened. The way she had been murdered spoke of revenge...jealousy, not a mere random act. That was the very detail the DA had used against Clint.

Only it hadn’t been him.

He glanced around the barn. His mother had kept his car out here, to protect it from the elements. And the old truck. He couldn’t believe that old pickup was still out here. A 1964 light green Ford, a little banged up and seriously faded. He’d learned to drive in that old thing. The memory of his mother’s patience made him ache with sadness. He’d lost her house...all her things. Now this old barn was all he had left in the way of a roof over his head. All he had left of her.

He’d picked up a couple of sleeping bags. There wasn’t any electricity, so lights and cooking were out unless he wanted to go the campfire route. He’d had enough smoke and fire for a while.

But there had been one unexpected turn of events. An insurance representative had dropped by on his way to church this morning and told Clint that his house was covered and temporary housing would be provided within forty-eight hours. His mother had set up automatic payments for the insurance and the taxes from her bank account. Clint hadn’t even realized she had an active bank account. He doubted there was much, if any, money left. He’d have to look into that in a few days.

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