Never Love a Lawman by Jo Goodman Read Free Book Online Page A

figured we needed to get past this pretense that you didn’t know Clinton Maddox.”
    Rachel let that settle a moment before she spoke; then she asked the question that had been uppermost in her mind. “How is that you imagine I know him?”
    “If I can speak plainly, until he sent you packing, you were his mistress.”
    That revelation effectively knocked the wind out of her. She expelled a breath that whistled softly between her teeth. “Well, that’s something, isn’t it? Does everyone in town know?”
    “If they do, they didn’t hear it from me. I’ve never heard it discussed.”
    “Small mercies, I suppose. How do you know?”
    “Mr. Maddox told me.”
    “Told you?”
    “Wrote to me. I was the one who arranged the purchase of this property and supervised the construction of your house.”
    “So you knew I was coming as long ago as that?”
    “I’d been led to believe it, yes.”
    Rachel’s brow puckered. It was vaguely unsettling to realize that Clinton Maddox had known well in advance what her decision would be. “The house is really mine, isn’t it?”
    “It always has been. He made sure of it.”
    Her eyes reflected some of her anxiety. “And it wouldn’t be too easy for others to discover, would it?”
    “No, I don’t suppose that it would.”
    She relaxed the white-tipped grip on her teacup and took a sip. “It’s odd that he told me so little about the town when it seems as if he must have known it fairly well. I suppose he meant for it to be a secret all the way around. We agreed that when the time came for me to leave I would use the Central line to ship the furniture and all of my trunks.”
    “I think that might properly be what’s called an irony.”
    The line of Rachel’s slight smile was bittersweet. “And I think you might be right, Sheriff.” She collected herself, took a breath, and let it out slowly. “How did you know he sent me packing?”
    “That was in his letter. Not those exact words, of course, but to that effect.”
    “I see.”
    Wyatt rubbed the underside of his chin with his knuckles, felt the rough stubble of a three-day growth. “He was considerably older than you.”
    “He was? I hadn’t noticed.”
    “Sorry. It’s not my place to comment on your arrangement with him.”
    “No, it’s not.”
    “There’s one thing I’d like to know, if you don’t mind.”
    Rachel was quite sure she didn’t want to hear his question, but she heard herself answer him differently. “I won’t know if I mind until I hear what’s on yours.”
    Wyatt wondered how often Rachel Bailey actually drank. There was a hint of provocation in her tone and in the tilt of her head that seemed as if it might be whiskey-proof. “Fair enough,” he said. “I was wondering—since it seems he didn’t want to hear from you again—why you think he made it part of our agreement that I’m supposed to look after you?”
    Rachel’s head snapped up. “Look after me? He said that?”
    “Drew up an entire document.” Wyatt watched Rachel’s lips part. Whatever she was going to say, she reconsidered it, and her mouth snapped shut. He was disappointed that she wasn’t going to tell him what she knew. He said, “I suppose Maddox thought he had his reasons.”
    “I suppose he did.” Her dark eyes wavered, then fell away from Wyatt’s flinty pair. She began to reach for the teapot, stopped, and reached for the bottle of whiskey instead. She poured a generous shot for herself, then nudged the bottle toward Wyatt.
    Wyatt just pushed it aside. He imagined one of them should remain clearheaded. He tried again to prompt her to talk, wondering if the whiskey would work in his favor. “So what do you think his reasons were, Miss Bailey? If you had to make a guess.”
    “Do I?”
    “Do you what?”
    “Do I have to make a guess?” She bit off every word as if it were its own sentence. “Really, Sheriff, try to follow your own lead.”
    One corner of his mouth kicked up a fraction.