Deceived (Unlikely Heroes Book 3) Page 9

  Her heart pounded. She stared at his chest. “Evan was my best friend. I would never harm him. And no matter what you found out about me in your investigation, I didn’t kill him.” She tilted her head back and met his gaze.

  He stared down at her for a long moment, his eyes hard. “You had motive,” he said. “All those millions…”

  Meg let out a snort. “You think I killed him for money? Then why I am living here in this tiny cabin in the woods and not in one of his father’s estates? I’m his power of attorney. I have access to anything and everything of his. If I want his money or his assets, all I have to do is go get it.”

  The sheriff narrowed his eyes. He shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe he made you sign a pre-nup. Maybe the power of attorney only lets you touch his things if he doesn’t disappear under suspicious circumstances.”

  Meg had heard enough. “I. Didn’t. Kill. Evan.” She enunciated each word so he would have no problem understanding.

  He cocked a brow, contemplated her for a moment. “Did you know I got the autopsy report back from the coroner last night? You want to know how the guy on your back porch died?”

  His sudden change of subject knocked the breath from her lungs.

  She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his. “H-how?”

  His fingers closed around her uninjured wrist. He snapped a handcuff over her arm before she realized his intent, then cuffed his own wrist, again securing her to him.

  She gasped in a breath. Her heart stuttered in her chest.

  Not again!

  “Is that really necessary?”

  “Have a seat.” He turned her around and steered her toward the front of the couch. He gently pushed her back on the cushions and sank down next to her. Meg’s heart thumped crazily against her ribs. His big, hard body was too close. If she moved her arm just an inch, she could touch his hard, jean-clad thigh. Today he wore a snug-fitting, black T-shirt that emphasized his muscular torso. The words, “Pain is weakness leaving the body,” covered the front of the shirt in large white letters. Beneath the saying, in smaller font, was the word, “Marines.” She swallowed and averted her gaze. Was he a former Marine? Or did he have a family member in the armed forces? As she contemplated that, she decided he was the Marine. The words seemed to fit him. The man probably had no weakness.

  “Cardiac arrest,” he said, staring down at her. It took Meg a moment to realize what he was talking about. “He was lying on a Taser when the forensics team got here. The probes were imbedded in his chest. Either he fell on his Taser and accidentally shot himself with it, causing cardiac arrest and then death…or you shot him in the chest with the Taser and killed him.”

  Meg’s head spun. She couldn’t met his gaze. She’d forgotten about the Taser the man had tried to shoot her with. She hadn’t seen it when she’d dragged his body to the river. Indeed, the man must have fallen on his own Taser and killed himself. Which meant he hadn’t been dead when she’d rolled him down the embankment into the river. She was amazed the cops hadn’t found the Taser first. The guy must have crawled out of the water, found his Taser, come up onto her porch, and accidentally shocked himself to death.

  Relief swept through her. She hadn’t killed him. Thank you God.

  She lifted her gaze to the sheriff’s. “I knew I didn’t kill him. I knew it.”

  His gaze pierced hers. “What happened out there?”

  She lowered her gaze. Should she tell him the truth? Or at least part of it? Meg was pretty sure he didn’t know about the bounty or he would have already taken her to Larry. Or maybe he really was a good guy, an honest cop. Or maybe he just didn’t know who she really was yet.

  Would he take her to jail now? She knew jail wasn’t safe either.

  No place was safe.

  She stared down at her lap. “I had the sensation that someone was following me at Wal-Mart that day. Every time I turned down an aisle, that man was there. At first I just thought he was shopping like me, but then I realized he didn’t have a cart. I checked out quickly and headed home. On the way home, a black car followed me. I thought I had lost him, but when I went out to feed the horses later that evening, the same man jumped out at me from the trees. He was holding a Taser, pointing it at me. He said to come with him. But I wasn’t going anywhere with him, so I hit him in the head with the shovel.” She cleared her throat, studied the metal handcuff surrounding her wrist. A memory flashed into her mind of the other time she’d been handcuffed, held against her will. Bound and enslaved.

  “Now I’ve got you right where I want you, Meggie girl. You’re mine all mine.”

  She dragged her gaze away from the handcuff.

  Stop it! Don’t think about that.

  Meg shoved the memory aside. Back where it belonged.

  She drew in a ragged breath and finished the story. “When he fell, he knocked me to the ground with him and I hit my head on a rock. It must have knocked me out, because the next thing I knew, I heard sirens, so I shoved his body off me…” She closed her eyes briefly as the horror of that night came back. Her hands shook, so she clutched them together in her lap, accidentally pulling the sheriff’s arm, the one that was attached to hers, onto her thigh.

  He tensed. She caught her breath. Her gaze landed on his hand. His big strong hand. Again she thought that he had nice hands, long, beautiful fingers. Heat crept into her cheeks. She jerked her gaze up to his. He didn’t move his hand away, just left it laying on her thigh. Oh dear God. Her leg tingled beneath the warmth of this hand.

  Something in his eyes made her pause. Sympathy? Compassion? She stared into those slate-gray eyes that seemed to grow darker the longer she looked into them. Her heart kicked into her ribs, galloping out of control.

  “Then what happened?” he whispered.

  Meg blinked. “I…” She pulled her gaze away as heat crept back into her cheeks. Her fair skin made her blushes more obvious, something she’d hated ever since she was a small child. She cleared her throat, stared down at her lap again. “I tied a rope around his feet and had Prince drag him to the river. I shoved him down the embankment and then you guys showed up.” She swallowed again, unable to look up into his face. “He must have crawled out of the water and come back for me, accidentally shooting himself on the porch. He was already dead when I tripped over him.”

  He gently squeezed her knee in a comforting gesture. She inhaled sharply as flames shot throughout her entire body.

  Get a grip, Meg! It’s not like he’s coming on to you!

  “Why didn’t you tell me that to begin with? You could have saved yourself, and me, all the trouble of the past two days. I knew he was already dead that morning when I came around the corner, but I wasn’t sure if you’d killed him or not.”

  Meg drew in a shaky breath. “So you believe me?” She couldn’t think clearly when the man was sitting so close, his big warm hand on her thigh. Granted, she was the one who’d pulled his hand there, though not intentionally. Now she wished he’d remove it. She was way too aware of him.

  He let out a sigh. “Against my better judgment, yeah, I believe you.”

  She nodded. “I was so scared,” she admitted, her voice barely louder than a whisper. He leaned toward her in order to hear her.

  “I figured as much,” he said quietly, his breath tickling her ear.

  When he was kind to her like this, her body relaxed. The tic urges disappeared.

  What would it be like to snuggle up against his big, hard body?

  Meg choked on that traitorous thought, her cheeks flaming once again. Why was she so aware of his big, muscular body anyway? Of the heat radiating off him? Of the arousing masculine scent of his cologne? Of the way his powerful chest rose and fell as he breathed next to her?

  Meg gulped in a breath. Luckily, he didn’t notice her reaction to him. He reached for her handcuffed wrist, slipped the handcuff key in the lock, and released her from him. Meg yanked her hand into her lap. The sheriff rose from the couch, reattached the handcuffs to his bel
t. He strode across the small living room to the fireplace against the far wall. He paused, then turned to face her.

  “Do you know why that man followed you out here?”

  She shook her head, unable to meet his gaze. That was something she couldn’t tell him.

  “We found his car hidden in the trees just down the road. I talked to the Spokane PD about him. I asked if they had any clue why he would be out here.”

  Meg’s heart stopped. Oh God, he’d talked to the Spokane police? Had he also talked to the sheriff’s department? Had he talked to Larry?

  “W-what did they say?”

  “They couldn’t explain why the guy was out here. He was off duty that day.”

  Meg could have told him that. The only people who hunted her were bad cops. Or criminals. She hoped that since the guy was dead, he hadn’t told anyone where she was. “You didn’t give them my address, did you?” She held her breath. If the sheriff told the Spokane police where she was, it would only be a matter of time before another one of Larry’s bad cops came for her.

  The sheriff eyed her for a long moment. “No, I didn’t. But if they request a copy of the police report, they’ll know the location the officer was found dead at.”

  Meg cringed. If Larry figured out his man had found her, he would request the police report. She knew he would. And when he got it, he’d come looking for her. He’d be here soon. Dammit, she needed more time! She didn’t have enough evidence yet.

  Larry was going down if it was the last thing she ever did.

  She leapt up from the couch.

  “Bad, bad, bad.” She yanked on her ponytail. Once. Twice. “Need time, time, time.” Her arm twitched, once, twice.

  Dammit, Meg! Get a grip! There’s still time. Larry hasn’t found you yet. You should have a few days at least.

  She glanced up at the sheriff. He stared at her, his expression unreadable. He probably thought she was a lunatic. Would he protect her from Larry?

  She stared into his intense eyes for a long moment, noting the questions lurking there. Yes, he would, she decided. He was a protector. She wasn’t sure how she knew that, she just did. But would he believe her story? Probably not. It was so farfetched that anyone would think it was make believe.

  “Is there something else you haven’t told me?”

  She looked away, her heart hammering crazily. “No.”

  He stepped away from the fireplace and came to stand in front of her. Meg rapidly stepped backward, but he moved to the side, around her, blocking her exit, caging her in against the couch again. If he came any closer, she would have no choice but let him press his hard body against hers or fall back onto the couch. Damn him.

  The breath caught in her throat. Why was he so good at blocking her escape?

  Because he’s a cop. They train cops in ways to prevent criminals from escaping.

  And he’s so big and strong.

  It wouldn’t take much for him to subdue her. Her face warmed at the thought.

  Could she duck underneath his arm before he caught her?

  “What happened at the jail yesterday?” he asked. “Where’s my deputy?”

  Meg tilted her head back and lifted her gaze to his.

  “I told you I don’t know where he is. He took me out of the cell and said he was moving me. He put me in the car and started driving.” She paused. How much did she tell the sheriff? She couldn’t tell him about the bounty on her head. He used to work for Larry. He might even know about the bounty and be pretending that he didn’t, though her gut told her he didn’t know about it. She wanted him to be the good and honest person she believed him to be. If he was, he would investigate and then he’d be putting his own life in danger. She wouldn’t want the sheriff to die because of her.

  He bent his head toward hers, forcing her to meet his gaze again. “And then?”

  And then? Meg thought rapidly, trying to come up with a believable story. “He pulled over at the Super Wal-Mart and let me out. Then another guy showed up. They talked for a moment. Then the other guy suddenly grabbed the deputy’s Taser and shocked him with it. He fell to the ground and I ran.” That was a partial truth.

  The sheriff raised a brow, but his expression remained impassive. She couldn’t tell if he believed her or not. “And how did you get back here? Did that guy who answered your door last night give you a ride home?”

  The blood drained from her face. He’d come over last night? He’d seen Curtis? She hoped Curtis had kept his mouth shut.

  “I…yeah. He did.” Which was partially true. She looked away.

  “He wasn’t your husband.” It was a statement, not a question.

  Meg kept her gaze lowered. “No.”

  “How well do you know that guy?” he probed.

  Meg felt his gaze scrutinizing her, but she couldn’t look up.

  She hesitated. How well did she know Curtis? Sadly, not very well at all, not as well as she should. And that made her heart hurt. She should know him better. It was her own fault that she didn’t.

  “Not very well,” she admitted.

  The sheriff sighed. “Don’t you know better than to hitch a ride with a stranger? You realize what could have happened to you, right?”

  “Curtis isn’t like that,” she said quickly, defending him. “He would never hurt me.”

  The sheriff cocked a black brow. “Really?”

  A door opened from down Meg’s small hallway, the sound of wood scraping against wood loud in the silence. She’d have to have that door fixed. It was old and always stuck when it was closed. It needed adjusted.

  Curtis ambled down the hallway in his bare feet, his long hair tangled about his shoulders, dressed in an old T-shirt and blue lounge pants. He paused in the doorway to the living room, his bloodshot gaze moving from Meg to the sheriff and back to Meg.

  “Morning,” he mumbled. “Did you make coffee?” Without waiting for her response, he headed into the kitchen to the coffee pot.

  The sheriff’s gaze followed him, then shot back to Meg. His expression filled with disapproval.

  He thought she’d slept with Curtis.

  Her face burned. Why did the man always think the worst of her?

  She darted beneath his arm and followed after Curtis before the sheriff could stop her. She didn’t owe him an explanation. He could think whatever he liked.

  Instead of following after her, the sheriff headed for the front door. “I have more questions for you,” he stated in that authoritative tone that annoyed her. He paused near the door. “I’ll be back later. When I return, I expect you to tell me the truth about who you really are.”

  He let himself out, pulling the door closed behind him.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Meg brought Prince to an abrupt halt when she spied the girl leaning against a large pine tree about thirty yards into the woods between her house and the sheriff’s. Meg glanced around, but the girl appeared to be alone. Meg had invited Curtis to go for a horseback ride with her, but he’d declined. So she’d saddled Prince and gone alone. Curtis had been sitting in the swing on the back porch when she’d headed into the woods on the gelding a few minutes ago.

  The girl was dressed all in black—black lacy top, black leggings, tall black boots—with blue hair that was short and spiky on top and long in the back. Meg guessed her to be about thirteen or fourteen, maybe fifteen. She met the girl’s gaze, noticed the dark, heavy makeup around the teenager’s eyes. Black lipstick lined her lips. Intrigued, Meg smiled at the girl. She sensed, by the girl’s strange appearance, that the teen was as much an outcast as Meg was.

  “Hi,” Meg called. She lifted her casted arm in a wave. “You live out here?”

  “Unfortunately, yeah.” The girl stepped away from the tree. A shy smile split her heavily made-up face. She stared at Meg and the horse for another moment. “That’s a pretty horse.” Hesitantly, the spiky-headed teen drew closer, then stopped before the horse, her wide blue eyes gazing up at Meg. Up close, Meg decided the girl
was beautiful and wondered why she wanted to hide such a pretty face behind all that thick, dark makeup.

  “I’m Kim. I live at that little cabin back there.”

  The girl nodded. “I figured. I’m Kristen.” She turned and pointed toward the sheriff’s large impressive, two-story house that made Meg’s cabin appear even smaller. “I live there.” She tossed her blue hair and turned back to Meg.

  Meg’s smile faltered. “You live over there?” Was this girl the sheriff’s daughter? She had to admit that was a shocker. First, she hadn’t imagined the man had a family. And second, she imagined his daughter would be Miss Prim and Proper, not Miss Goth Queen. Meg cleared her throat. “You must be the sheriff’s daughter. It’s nice to meet you Kristen.”

  The girl nodded. Her blue spikes tipped toward Meg. “You too. And being the sheriff’s daughter is not all it’s cracked out to be. I hate it here already and we’ve only been here since yesterday. There’s nothing to do out here.” She motioned to Meg’s cast. “How’d you hurt your arm?”

  Meg hesitated. How did she answer that? She couldn’t say, your dad tackled me to the floor and broke my arm, so she just shrugged and said, “It was an accident.”

  Kristen nodded. She studied Meg with wide, curious eyes.

  Meg cleared her throat. “So, where did you move from?” She was curious about the sheriff’s daughter. She was also delighted with the strange girl and eager for female companionship.

  “We came from Sandpoint.” Kristen kicked at the dirt with a black boot. “My dad sold his house there and bought this one clear out here. He thinks it will be good for me. But he doesn’t know me, not really. He just thinks he does.”

  A moment of silence passed between them. Meg wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she said nothing.

  “The house is nice, I guess.” Kristin stared down at the ground. “I know he means well, but he’s clueless. He doesn’t know anything about kids. And I miss my mom. I miss Spokane. I miss my friends.”

  Her lower lip trembled. She turned her face away as a tear slipped down her cheek, leaving a black streak of mascara.