Dead By Midnight by Beverly Barton Read Free Book Online Page B

Agency becoming involved.”
    “Yes. Pro bono. Ms. Hammonds is not a rich woman.”
    “I see.”
    Maleah could tell by the tone of Sanders’s voice that he was actually considering denying her request. “Look, I’m on vacation, but if you’ll give me an okay to take Lorie on as a client, I’ll work without pay for the duration of my time off from the agency.”
    Silence.
    Damn it, say something. But when he remained silent, she knew he was thinking about her proposition.
    “Agreed,” Sanders told her. “You took time off to stay in Dunmore for two weeks, on a paid vacation. Use that time to begin the investigation, and if when your vacation comes to an end you have found evidence that Ms. Hammonds’s life is in danger, then Powell’s will pick up the tab for continuing the investigation.”
    She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “Thank you. I assume this means that the agency’s resources are at my disposal?”
    “Certainly. However, unless you can show me the necessity of additional agents becoming involved—”
    “I don’t think Lorie needs a personal bodyguard at this point, but if she does, I’ll handle it.”
    “Then feel free to proceed. And if while Griffin and Nicole are away, you require anything else, simply let me know.”
    “Yes, thanks. I will.”
    “Good day, Maleah,” Sanders said, ever the courteous if somewhat stern gentleman.
     
    Lorie had changed clothes four times that morning. The routine of bathing, doing her hair, applying makeup, and dressing usually took about an hour, less if she hurried. But today it had taken her two hours. When she had put on the first outfit and checked herself in the mirror, all she had seen was how large her breasts looked in the clingy yellow cashmere sweater, a Christmas present from Cathy and Jack this past year. She certainly didn’t want Mike to accuse her of using her sexuality to gain attention or, God forbid, to entice any of his deputies. The second outfit had gone too far in the opposite direction, the long-sleeved, mid-calf-hemmed dress making her look as if she were trying to downplay her attractiveness. Her third attempt had been jeans, the legs tucked into black boots, and a hooded black rhinestone sweatshirt. Too youthful. Mike would think she was trying to look like a teenager. Finally, she had chosen a pair of charcoal dress slacks, a silvery gray silk blouse, and a simple black sweater.
    When she walked into the sheriff’s department, all eyes turned toward her. What was wrong with these people? But she knew that, to a person, all of Mike’s employees either knew firsthand or had heard through local gossip about Mike and her, about their past relationship and the fact that Mike now despised her.
    Her heart raced and moisture coated the palms of her hands. She was so nervous that you’d think she was a criminal who had been caught red-handed. Instead, she was the victim or at the very least, the potential victim.
    A middle-aged female deputy, her brown hair cut short and styled in choppy disarray, approached Lorie, a noncommittal expression on her face, neither smiling nor frowning.
    “Good morning, Ms. Hammonds. I’m Deputy Ladner. The sheriff has assigned me to take your statement.”
    Lorie nodded and offered the woman a hesitant smile, which was not reciprocated. Instead the deputy said, “Come with me, please.”
    As instructed, Lorie followed the woman to what she assumed was the deputy’s workstation. She pulled out a chair for Lorie and motioned for her to sit. Deputy Ladner sat behind her metal desk, picked up a pen and paper, and interrogated Lorie. Or at least that was how Lorie felt, as if she were being given the third degree. Five minutes later, apparently finished, the deputy handed the pen and file form to Lorie.
    “If you’ll sign”—she tapped her finger on the dotted line—“right here, please.”
    Lorie hurriedly read over the form, then signed it and laid it and the pen on the desk. She looked directly