Rachel's Rebellion (Moss Bayou) by GiGi Duvall Read Free Book Online

doubt,”
Gabe agreed. “But what’s got the Jensen chick involved?”
    “Don’t think
she uses.”
    “Me either.
She is a nurse. Medical?”
    “Could be,”
Wyatt agreed. “Why don’t you use your connection to your favorite nurse and see
what you can find out?”
    “I wouldn’t
if I were you,” Gabe warned him.
    “Look, I am
a cop. A fucking detective. I can read a clue or two.”
    “We’re not
going there, Wyatt.”
    “Yes, we
are. You’re putting this operation in jeopardy for a hard dick. So, I followed
you last night. I saw where you were. I saw you with her. At her fucking
apartment.”
    Gabe quickly
turned and fisted Wyatt’s collar in his hand. “Don’t. You know nothing. I
haven’t been lacking when it comes to this operation. She is off limits to any
conversation. Read that fucking clue?”
    Wyatt
shrugged Gabe’s hold off. He shook his head.
    “You don’t
see you are in up to your ass here.”
    “None of
your business.”
    “Gabe, as a
friend,” Wyatt raised a hand to stop Gabe from speaking, “not as a cop
partnering with you, I have to say I’m worried about safety here.”
    “Under
control.”
    “Your
safety. Also, if she can be connected to you, her safety as well. Read that
fucking clue?”
     
     
     

Chapter
Four
     
     
    The meeting,
for lack of a better word, was off the beaten path, but that was the point. Not
particularly excited about the location, he pushed the thought aside as he
gingerly made his way across the soggy field to what remained of an old barn.
The previous week had seen its share of rain and the ground beneath his eight
hundred dollar loafers wanted to swallow him with each careful step. The fine
Italian leather ruined a bit more with each wary step he took. His finely
tailored suit clung to his body like a heavy sack thanks to the humid
conditions. He thought about loosening his silk tie but changed his mind. He
didn’t want Denny Dennis to see him with any weakness. Even a less than perfect
tie. He hadn’t built himself or his position and power on poor habits. That
included how he dressed. Even his wardrobe for the golf course was always
finely pressed. Image was important. If only his son had understood that
lesson. Too late now.
    He wiped the
sweat from his forehead with his handkerchief as his son filled his thoughts.
Thinking of his son was a weakness he didn’t want but couldn’t stop. His son was
gone now, thanks to his own hand. Suicide hadn’t been expected, but then
neither had he expected crazy. His son had hidden so many secrets. He stepped
over a rotten log and made his way into the barn. Yes, his son had hidden a lot
of secrets, but then he had secrets of his own. The biggest secret of all was
responsible for his current business venture.
    Standing
just inside of what remained of the old barn, he listened. The only sound he
heard was the call of a bird. It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. He cast an eye
around him. The dirt floor was damp and clumped rather than dusty. A product of
rain and humidity, no doubt. It was curious to him that half of the old barn
still stood, despite powerful hurricanes. Maybe, it remained because it held
more secrets than he did. He had to smile at that thought. Denny liked meeting
in this old barn. He swore it was long forgotten. For a brief moment, the place
had been filled with cops, crime scene tape securing it from anyone other than
investigators. But, now that the Till kid’s death was fading into the immediate
past, the place was abandoned and forgotten once more.
    Anthony
Till’s death, unlike Henry Simpson’s, hadn’t been an easy decision. The kid had
really done nothing to warrant the bullet to his head. It was his older sister
Tamra who needed the discipline and since her position as a dispatcher was
necessary, her family was the best incentive. As he brushed a bit of dust off
of his sleeve, he knew Anthony’s death was on Tamra’s head, not his. She should
have followed orders. He could not