McKade, Maureen by Convictions

Author:Convictions [Convictions]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-11-20T22:31:01+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

The waitress arrived bearing their lunch, and Olivia hastily removed her hand from Hank's. The young woman placed their plates in front of them.

"Can I get you anything else?" the girl asked.

"We're fine," Hank said curtly.

Olivia munched on her salad, barely tasting it. Although Hank was eating, it seemed more out of necessity than enjoyment.

She studied him, trying not to notice how his forearms flexed below the rolled-up shirtsleeves or how the dark hairs peeked out of the vee where the top two shirt buttons were undone. The last thing he needed was her thinking with something other than her brain. She needed to concentrate on how to help him legally, not how to get him into bed.

Disconcerted by her erotic meanderings, she focused on the problem at hand.

"How well do you know your fellow prisoners?" she asked.

He paused, a French fry halfway to his mouth. "Not very." He popped the fry into his mouth.

Olivia pushed aside her empty salad plate and the remainder of her sandwich. "Tell me what you know."

"Why?"

"Because there's still a murderer out their, and it could very well be one of those men."

He bristled. "You're the same as Sheriff Jordan. You got some cons in the vicinity, so pin at least one of the murders on them. Bonus points if you get both pinned on one."

"Who do you think killed Melinda?"

"How the hell should I know?" Heads turned in their direction, and Hank lowered his voice. "Did she have any enemies? Was she seeing someone? Had she pissed off anyone lately?"

Okay, so Olivia had been a little overzealous. Even though it was a small county, there were still more than enough suspects, not counting the convicts or the hired hands on the ranch. However...

"It might not have been someone at the ranch, but my gut is telling me otherwise. The place where she was buried was on a road that isn't used much. Nobody would know about it unless they were familiar with the area," she said.

"What if it was someone who used to work for your father?" He paused and added with a sour note, "Maybe a former convict who went through the program?"

Olivia considered his theories, and although they were possibilities, she didn't think them very probable. "Maybe, but I think we should concentrate on those who are working on the ranch now."

"And what? Solve the crime?" he demanded with incredulous sarcasm.

Her impatience flared. "I don't know. Maybe. It's better than not doing anything at all."

"Excuse me."

Olivia glanced over at a woman wearing dark slacks and a black-and-white blouse who approached their booth. She looked familiar, but Olivia couldn't place her. "Yes?"

"Olivia Kincaid?" the woman asked.

She nodded warily. "That's right."

"I thought that was you. I'm Brenda Whitelaw."

The name didn't ring any bells, and Olivia shook her head.

Brenda laughed nervously. "You probably remember me as Brenda Rogerson. I was two years behind you in school."

The faint memory of a pigtailed girl came to mind, and Olivia smiled. "That's right. How are you doing, Brenda?"

"Just fine.

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