Deserves to Die (Alvarez & Pescoli)

Pescoli gave a mental shrug. What did it matter? Considering her own love life, she wasn’t going to judge Hattie on hers. But the obsession about Dan and Bart’s deaths being connected was nonsense. Bart had committed suicide; Dan had been shot by an assailant.

“I think it’s tragic that we lost the sheriff and that his brother died before him,” Pescoli said neutrally.

“Bart did not kill himself,” Hattie insisted, as she had ever since her ex, supposedly despondent over their split, had walked into the family’s barn, tossed a rope over a crossbeam, and hung himself.

“I know that’s what you think, but his death was ruled a suicide.” There it was. The bone of contention.

“He wouldn’t do that to . . . to the girls,” she insisted, then more softly, “or to me.”

“We know who killed the sheriff,” Pescoli reminded the distraught woman seated on the edge of one of the visitors chairs positioned near her desk. The detective’s gaze moved to that of Cade Grayson to inc

lude him in the conversation. “There’s no argument. That man’s behind bars. He’ll be prosecuted and convicted.”

“Are you sure?” Hattie asked.

Dear Jesus, yes! I saw Dan go down, I witnessed him take the bullets. And I was there when the son of a bitch who killed him was arrested. I almost lost my own damn life to that psycho. Though her emotions were roiling, she managed to keep her voice calm. “Of course.”

Hattie squeezed her eyes shut and held up her hands, fingers spread wide as if she knew she’d stepped over the line. “Yes, I know that you got Dan’s killer, but you told me you’d look into Bart’s death again. Reopen the case.” Blinking rapidly, she swiped under her eyes with a finger.

Pescoli located a box of tissues under an unruly stack of papers. Nudging it around two near-empty cups of decaf to the far side of the desk, she said to Cade, “You think someone killed Bart, too?”

“Don’t know.” His jaw slid to one side and Pescoli remembered that Cade had been the unlucky person who had found his brother’s body hanging from a crossbeam in the barn.

“Could be.” A couple years younger, Cade looked a bit like Dan with his long, lean body, square jaw, and intense eyes. The Grayson genes were strong enough that a family resemblance was noticeable, though he was a couple inches shorter than the sheriff had been, and, from all reports, a lot more of a hellion in his youth. He’d ridden the rodeo circuit, only recently returning to Grizzly Falls. “Bart was having his problems,” Cade said, his gaze drifting to Hattie for a second. “We all know that.”

Hattie’s face grew more ashen.

“But she’s right,” Cade said, hitching his chin toward his ex-sister-in-law. “Bart loved those girls and it seems unlikely that he would take himself out, denying McKenzie and Mallory from knowing their dad.”

Pescoli felt trapped. “Look, I said I’d look through the files, and I will. But I didn’t mention reopening the case.”

“Semantics,” Hattie said.

“More than that. A major difference.” Pescoli wanted to make certain they understood her position.

“Just, please.” Hattie swallowed and plucked a tissue from the box to wipe her eyes. Too late. Mascara was already beginning to streak her cheeks. Clearing her throat and standing, she said, “I know you were a good friend to Dan, and your partner Selena . . . she and Dan were close.”

Pescoli waved a dismissive hand indicating that she didn’t understand but accepted Alvarez’s romantic fantasies about their boss.

“Dan would want whoever killed Bart to be brought to justice,” Hattie said determinedly.

That much was true. Pescoli reminded, “If he was murdered, but—”

“He was murdered!” Hattie leaned over the edge of the desk so that she could meet the doubt in Pescoli’s gaze with her own conviction.

Pescoli rose from her chair and said firmly, “We don’t know that.”

“That’s because when he died, everyone just assumed the worst,” Hattie stated. “So, you’re right, we don’t know, but it’s your job to find out.”

“His death was investigated at the time. Even his brother—”

“Dan was never satisfied about the outcome,” Cade put in, straightening. They were all standing in the room, regarding each other tensely.

Hattie lifted her chin. “If it makes you feel any better, Detective, don’t do this for me. Do it for Dan.” With that she walked away, her sharp footsteps echoing along the hallway.

Cade said, “She’s serious about this, you know. And Dan wasn’t happy with the outcome of the investigation, though, of course, he wasn’t sheriff at the time. I know you weren’t involved then, either, but if you’ve got the time, I’d appreciate it.”

Something in his eyes reminded Pescoli of his older brother. For a second, she imagined the sheriff standing in front of her. But then Cade squared his hat onto his head and followed after Hattie.