The Texas Soldier's Son. Karen Whiddon
to him as if she meant to stay awhile. Which he supposed was fine, because he certainly did not. He signaled Jed for the check, but Jed waved him away, mouthing again that the meal was on the house.
“Word is, the killer was someone who knew the dead man all too well,” Trudy continued.
Kyle gave a polite nod, keeping his expression disinterested. He made a show out of checking his watch. “I’m sorry, but I have to run,” he began.
She grabbed his arm. “Wait. I’d think this story would be a particular interest to you. In fact, I’d like to report on your reaction.”
“Trudy?” He stared pointedly at her hand on his forearm, making it clear her touch wasn’t exactly welcome. She finally huffed and removed it.
“Trudy,” he repeated. “Look, I just got back in town yesterday. While I’m sure I’ve got a lot to catch up on, I’ve got too much to do right now. I’ll catch up with everything on the local news later tonight.”
Was that a flash of disappointment in her gaze? But no, she shook her head, clearly undeterred. “Since this case involves your former girlfriend Nicole Shelton, I’d think you might find it a tiny bit interesting.”
Nicole? A shudder of foreboding ripped through him, though he worked hard to prevent that from showing. “Are you telling me Nicole was murdered?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice steady.
Trudy cocked her head, sending those earrings of hers swinging. “Nicole isn’t dead, sugar. Nicole’s husband, Bill, is. And the talk around town is that she might be the one who killed him. The sheriff has already told her not to leave town. Can you imagine?”
Stunned, he could only stare, unable to think coherently enough to hide his shock. “I...”
Her malicious smile widened. She pulled out her microphone, fumbling with her recorder before looking up at him again. “On the record, would you tell the good folks of Anniversary how you feel about this news?”
How he felt? He’d been through hell and back, only to return home to find the rug had not only been ripped out from under him, but set on fire as well. He used every bit of his ranger training to mentally pull himself up by his bootstraps. Squaring his shoulders, he lifted his chin and looked Trudy right in the eyes. “I’ve been gone a year, ma’am. And I haven’t talked to Nicole at all, not in all that time. While I’m not sure why folks believe she’d be capable of murder, I can tell you this. The Nicole Shelton I know wouldn’t hurt a fly. Hell, the woman even carried spiders outside if they got in the house. I can’t imagine her killing another human being. Not at all.”
Undeterred, Trudy licked her bright red lips. “Well, it appears you are wrong. But time will tell. The truth will come out in the end.”
Kyle stood, inclining his head politely. “I’m sure it will, ma’am.” With a quick wave at Jed, he strode off toward the door.
Outside, he squinted in the bright sunlight. He walked to his pickup, unlocked the doors and climbed up inside. Ignition on, AC up full blast. He had no idea where to go, just that he needed to drive.
He cruised slowly down Main Street, turning at the bank, and continued on until he’d reached a residential area. The houses here were large and well maintained, several sporting the brass historical plaques that marked them as restored homes of significance. Pulling over to the curb, he parked. Using his phone, he navigated to the county tax assessor website and put in the name Bill Mabry.
Bingo. Interesting, that the house title was only in Bill’s name. Nicole wasn’t included. And the date of purchase was a little more than one year ago, which meant he’d bought the house before he and Nicole were married.
He put the address into his GPS and punched Drive. To his surprise, the house was only a couple of blocks away. Driving slow, he went past, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might leap out of his chest. At the end of the street, he made a U-turn. This time, he parked in front of the house across the street. The two-story, rock-and-wood structure looked sleek and modern, yet somehow fit in perfectly with the restored historical homes surrounding it. The perfectly manicured lawn, numerous trees and flower gardens were all well-tended, like something out of a glossy magazine. No doubt the inside of the luxurious home was filled with expensive furniture and matching colors.
He tried to picture Nicole living there, her adoring husband at her side, her baby in her arms, and realized she’d fit right in. In fact, this kind of lifestyle was exactly what he’d wanted for her, for them, even if he’d imagined it would take a while to get to that place. While he’d saved every dollar he could from his military service, he’d planned for the two of them to start out like most young couples did, with a much more modest home.
Looks like she’d managed to skip right over all that by marrying Bill Mabry, the guy her parents had been trying to set her up with all through high school. She’d claimed to find him repulsive, describing several awkward Sunday night suppers when her parents had invited him over.
Kyle guessed she’d lied. Either that, or her parents and Bill Mabry had finally worn her down, probably while she was mourning over Kyle’s supposed death. At least he hoped she’d grieved for him. He studied the house again and came to a decision. There was only one way to find out.
He hustled up the sidewalk, moving fast so he wouldn’t reconsider and change his mind. He rang the bell, listening as sonorous chimes reverberated inside the house, followed immediately by a baby’s loud wailing.
No one came to the door. Instead, he imagined Nicole went to comfort her infant. Heart still racing, he waited, telling himself he’d count to thirty before ringing the doorbell again.
At twenty-nine, the door opened, just a tiny crack. “Go away.” Nicole’s voice, making his stomach do a somersault. “I’ve already told you people I’m not talking to any reporters. My husband just died. Leave me alone.”
“Nicole.” He spoke her name, knowing she’d recognize his voice. “It’s me. Kyle.”
Silence. “Kyle’s dead. What kind of monster would play a cruel trick like this?” she cried out, before slamming the door shut in his face.
Still he waited, trying for patience. Even though she’d married another man immediately after his supposed death, he battled an overwhelming urge to kick the door in and yank her into his arms. Every fiber of his being, every fighting instinct to live, had been about her. Getting back to her. Holding her.
He blinked, hard, his eyes stinging. The one thing he’d never expected had been this betrayal.
When she didn’t come back, he knocked. Not a quiet brush of his knuckles against the polished wood. No, this determined rapping was to let her know he wasn’t going away until she faced him. She at least owed him that.
Finally, she opened the door, all the way this time. “Kyle?” she croaked. She’d gone pale as a ghost and swayed on her feet, as if on the verge of fainting. At least she wasn’t holding her baby. Even though she’d borne another man’s child, he didn’t want her to inadvertently injure an infant.
“In the flesh.” He jerked his head in a nod, emotion warring inside him. He was furious with her, as he had every right to be, but his soul rejoiced at just the sight of her. Still tiny, slender and petite, she wore her long brown hair the same way she always had. Her hazel eyes were rimmed in red, as if she’d been crying—of course she had, her husband had just died—and even now tears made the ends of her long dark lashes glisten.
Despite all this, she was still just as beautiful. This pissed him off more than it should have. Damned if he could stomach seeing her while she mourned another man. “Did you cry for me too?” he asked—no, demanded. “Tell me you did, because it didn’t appear to be all that long after my supposed death when you went and got yourself married off to him.”
“Kyle,” she repeated, her voice breaking. All at once, he realized she was on the verge of shattering into a million pieces. He moved to help her without conscious