Read Online When Night Falls by Cait London - Free Book Online

Mitchell’s back just as he had done years ago. Mitchell had listened to more than one lecture about “keeping on the narrow path.” “Seems you’ve learned a few things, like how to hold in that temper—it used to get you in trouble years ago. You know how to back up what you say and not with your fists, either—the times I had to pull you boys out of scuffles…. glad you’re back.”
    “You might be the only one. Things haven’t changed much when it comes to my family and Madrid’s best.”
    “Your dad was a good man in a hard place. He wasn’t a rancher, but he was trying his damndest. And there wasn’t a better mechanic. He could make a dead motor sing. If you want it quiet about what you did before coming back, that’s the way it will be. I’ve got a little pull around here, and higher up in the state. ‘Hot-shot’ back there needs to learn some manners. Welcome back to Madrid. See you around.”
    As Mitchell drove home, slowly cruising Main Street, lined with shady oaks and old two-story buildings, he noted the stealthy stares labeling him as a troublemaker. It was a look he’d known since childhood. “Uh-huh. Madrid is really happy that I’m back. And I’m not leaving.”
     
    “I’m sorry if I disturbed you. I had to come to be with her tonight,” Uma said quietly at nine o’clock that evening when Mitchell opened his house door. She knew he’d been grilled for hours at the police station, and the shadows and lines of his face said he still carried those hours with him. She couldfeel the defensive shell around him, the vibration of his anger. It quivered in the fresh flower bouquet she held, the flowers Lauren had loved best. “It’s late, I know. Please tell me if you’d rather not have me here.”
    He nodded and opened the door wider, and the smell of fresh paint matched the butter-cream spots on his bare shoulders, face, and hair. Unused to the certain raw masculinity that was Mitchell’s, Uma looked away from the spots clinging to the hair on his chest. Mitchell inhaled impatiently, rubbing his broad hands on his jeans, also mottled with paint. “I’ll get a shirt.”
    While she waited in the foyer for him to return, she angrily noted Lauren’s beloved wooden tile, ruined by water stains. Billy had often left the door open, careless of the rain storms. It had been Lauren’s duty to keep everything safe—
    Mitchell returned, wearing a T-shirt. “Go ahead,” he said quietly, watching her. “Can I get you a drink? The bottled water is top notch. If you like, I have something stronger.”
    Uma shook her head and searched his face. The lines were deeper now; the day’s stubble covering his jaw also bore paint spatters. “Lauren loved fresh flowers. I hope you don’t mind…you’re tired. The discovery this afternoon, and all the time with the investigators, must have been draining. I’m sorry I broke down like that at the scene. Just seeing that car in the shadows with the crime people working around it was enough to bring back that night.”
    “Forensics people will be working on that bullet hole, trying to match it to a gun.”
    “Pete Jones, that’s who they said he was, the car identification tracked to him, and so did the dental work his wife described. He isn’t much—has a few stretches in prison behind him for car theft. He’s the suspect in a car theft, a little black Miata convertible, but they couldn’t pin it on him. The car is still missing. He’s taken odd handyman jobs when he feels like getting off the couch—some alarm systems, some carpentry.He’s been missing since a short time after Lauren was killed. The mug shot of him matches the man I saw that night—I’d never forget him. Maybe it is over, and he’s been made to pay.”
    “Maybe.”
    Uma looked at him sharply. “What do you mean?”
    Mitchell looked away, the bald light above him hitting his harsh profile, his deep-set eyes in shadow. “Just that—maybe. He didn’t shoot himself.