Free Crossed Bones by Carolyn Haines Page B

Hampton is going to be his step stool to jump there."
    What he was saying was true. Lincoln Bangs, the
Sunflower
County
district attorney, was a very ambitious man. It was an unfortunate fact of life that the route to the governor's office, in any state, was often littered with bodies, the guilty and the innocent.
    Coleman pushed off the counter. "So how was your date?"
    I wasn't prepared for that question but I stepped right up to the plate. "Bridge Ladnier is a very interesting man."
    "I'm sure he is. And successful." Coleman's hand had gone to his gun belt. He fiddled with his holster. "He belongs in places like The Club, by birthright as well as bank account." There was a flatness in Coleman's eyes I'd never seen. "I'm glad you finally found a social peer, Sarah Booth. You deserve that and a whole lot more."
    He walked into his office and closed the door.
    8
    Deputy Dewayne Dattilo let me back into the jail. My greeting there was almost as warm as the one I'd gotten from Coleman. Scott reclined on his bunk, one leg crossed over a knee, and watched me as if I were some odious reptile.
    "We need to talk." I wasn't in the mood for his attitude.
    "You need to leave." His foot began to beat a rhythm as he tuned me out completely.
    "Listen,
Hampton
, your ridiculous bad-boy posturing is wasted on me." I was angry and he was stupid. "James Dean died a long time ago. You might think you're a rebel without a cause, but you're really just a racist rich boy with a little talent and a long history of making seriously bad life decisions." I took a deep breath. "So cut the crap. Coleman has an eyewitness that puts you at the scene of the murder at the time Ivory Keys was killed."
    He sat up suddenly, and in half a second he was across the cell and standing before me. He moved in so close I could feel his breath on my fingers where they gripped the bars.
    "I know about the witness," he said, each word a hard, fast little bullet of anger. "Stuart Ann Shanahan. That crazy bitch wanted to visit me here."
    "You admit you know her, then?"
    "I know her. She's the girl who's been stalking me for the past six months. It's a bit ironic that my biggest fan would put the nail in my coffin, isn't it?"
    "Stalking? She's president of your fan club."
    "And hell has swimming pools and ice-cold beer." He glared at me. "That girl is a stalker. She's broken into my house three times. She sits on my bike when I park it somewhere. She's always jumping out of shrubs and bushes, trying to get me to fuck her. And she tails me like a hound after a raccoon. I told the sheriff not to let her near me."
    I nodded while I thought it through. "What you say about Nandy may be true, but she's put you at the murder scene, nonetheless."
    "Who's going to believe a crazy bitch like her?" He challenged me with his eyes.
    I kept my tone factual. "Most of
Sunflower
County
. Stuart Ann is from a well-to-do family. Most jurors, if it comes down to it, will take her word over an ex-con drug addict's." I meant to make him angry, and I was rewarded by the snap in his eyes. Yet he held his tongue and his temper. That impressed me.
    "We might balance Nandy out with some background about your family." I'd done my homework. "Your mother is head of the United Way Drive each year, and your father single-handedly started the drive to build a new shelter for abused women. That should count for something."
    "Leave my family out of this," Scott said in a way that let me know he'd divorced them long before they cut the umbilical on him.
    "How old are you?" I asked.
    He hesitated. "Thirty-five. How old are you?"
    His question caught me off guard, as did the curiosity in his gaze. He was really looking at me. "A woman never reveals her age." I didn't want Scott to have a lot of personal information about me.
    "Did you give Ida Mae back her money?" he demanded.
    I was tired of his attempts to wrest control of the conversation from me. I was helping him. "If you're so worried about Ida Mae and