Cover Your Eyes by Mary Burton Read Free Book Online Page A

to give Rachel Wainwright credit. She’d scrounged up more people than he thought would care about a thirty-year-old murder case.
    When he’d arrived she’d been arranging her note cards as she’d cast disappointed looks at the crowd. She’d kicked off her dog-and-pony show right on time and he’d settled against the concrete wall behind him and watched her try to galvanize a lifeless crowd. Then he’d spotted Margaret pull away from the group. Her body twitched, tight and nervous, as she’d gripped her purse strap in a brawler’s bare-knuckled grip and fixed her gaze on Rachel. He hadn’t recognized the woman but he could spot the body language of a disturbed person. Immediately, he’d made his way through the crowd, listening, as Margaret’s voice grew louder and angrier. He’d been a few feet away when Margaret had decked Rachel.
    Rachel. Rachel Wainwright. She’d been calling him several times a day for at least six weeks. He’d taken her first call and told her she’d have her results as soon as he did but that hadn’t satisfied her. She’d called back, leaving a long message arguing that the whole testing process was taking too long. She’d accused him of burying evidence to protect his father.
    That comment had pissed him off to the point that he’d considered driving to her office and having it out. But he’d worked undercover too long to let his temper or feelings get the better of him. He’d zipped up his anger and put it aside.
    A begrudging respect flickered for the woman who didn’t surrender. She had the tenacity of a pit bull. And tonight, she’d held on to her composure after the blow. With the media cameras rolling she could have demanded Margaret be jailed. She hadn’t.
    Rachel Wainwright wasn’t his kind of woman. Her voice didn’t sooth but snapped. High cheekbones and a keen chin were made sharper by short ink-black hair and milky pale skin. A long lean body didn’t fill out her pencil skirt and white blouse but skimmed beneath the fabric like chiseled stone. What rescued her from severity were her eyes. They were the color of cut sapphires and looked upon the world as if it were filled with urchins and discarded puppies, all in need of her saving.
    Deke believed Buddy had gotten it right thirty years ago when he arrested Jeb Jones. His father had often said fear had gripped Nashville after the violent attack and disappearance of the young beautiful mother. Women, Buddy had said, were afraid to go out. The police were flooded with tips or calls of suspicious-looking men. One man had been attacked by a group of young boys who’d believed they’d caught Annie’s killer. Nearly beaten to death, the man had woken up in the hospital three days later with his name cleared after the cops had established his alibi.
    And then there’d been the calls regarding Annie’s body. The cops had received hundreds. Most had been ruled out but there were at least ten sites that the cops had dug up looking for her body. And then one of many anonymous tips had been followed and the fragmented bones of a woman had been found in the woods near the Cumberland River. Annie’s necklace had been found among the remains. Diamonds shaped into a heart. The search had ended. But the terror and fear had not. And then the confidential informant, or CI, had given them Jeb. He’d been arrested. And the city had returned to normal.
    Deke knew his father and the man’s flawless integrity. He and his father, physical carbon copies, were also a match in temperament. Shouting matches and butting heads were more common than not. So Deke knew in his core Buddy might have been tough on Jeb during the interviews, but he’d gotten his confession fair and square. He wouldn’t have steamrolled Jeb for the sake of closing a case. Justice was Buddy’s life.
    Deke had been about ten at the time of the trial and he’d remembered his dad coming home from work late, exhausted and paler than a ghost. He’d remembered