Read Online You're Not Safe (Texas Rangers) by Mary Burton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mary Burton
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Templeton?”
“Pretty, dark hair, kind of skinny. Not friendly.”
Dark hair not blond. He flicked the edge of the card with his index finger. “What else do you know about her?”
“She drives a truck. And she cuts to the chase.”
Habit sent the follow-up question back rapid-fire. “And she offered you the job as a favor?”
“That’s what she said.”
Bragg summoned another question but held back, as if Sue had laid a hand on his shoulder. The boy had said more in the last few minutes than in the last month. Go easy. He wanted to go easy. He did.
But he’d been a Ranger too long not to toy with his suspicions. The Templeton name had been attached to a murder investigation this morning. Though the girl in the picture did not match Mitch’s description it had been a dozen years and people changed a lot. He’d not had much time today to dig into Elizabeth Templeton’s accident, but it would be first on his agenda after dinner. Rory’s apartment would keep until morning.
Their waitress brought two more sodas and another basket stacked high with warm rolls. She told them that dinner would be right up before hurrying to another table.
Bragg drank his second soda. He didn’t want to discourage the boy but at the same time wanted him to understand the lay of the land.
Bragg eased back in his chair. “You thinking about taking the job?”
Mitch grabbed a roll, tore it, and watched the steam rise. “Don’t know.”
As frustrating as pulling teeth. “Did she talk about pay?”
“No.”
He reached for bread. “Had a murder investigation this morning. Don’t need to get into a lot of details, but an Elizabeth Templeton’s name came up.”
Mitch glanced up from his soda, his gaze showing a spark of interest. “She kill someone?”
“No. At least I don’t think so.” He wanted to tell him about the picture but hesitated. It was a detail in an active murder investigation. “Wanted you to know, seeing as a Templeton offered you a job.”
“Kind of a stretch, don’t you think?”
“Maybe. But it’s my job to connect dots no one else notices.”
Mitch nodded as if mulling what Bragg had told him. “Maybe I’ll ride out there tomorrow. See what she has to offer.”
Their waitress brought two large steaming plates, each sporting a T-bone and a baked potato with generous sides of butter and sour cream. No green vegetables because it was a shame to serve what neither would eat.
Bragg was about to ask him to wait on the job until he could poke around in the woman’s background when the boy glanced at his steak, picked up his fork and knife, and cut a large bite. He ate the piece and then another and then another. Strain banding Bragg’s lower back eased a notch. Whoever the hell Greer Templeton was, she had made an impact on this kid, which for now, appeared to be for the better. As much as he wanted to tell Mitch to stay clear, he held back.
Later he’d do a little digging.
Dinner ended with slices of apple pie with heaping scoops of vanilla ice cream. Mitch hadn’t said much more during dinner, but he’d eaten his entire meal and the pie. Some might view eating a meal as a baby step but as far as Bragg was concerned it was the first sign of life he’d seen in the boy since he’d returned home.
They arrived home right at nine. Mitch thanked him for the meal, another first, and headed straight to his room.
While a pot of coffee brewed, Bragg changed into jeans and a faded Texas A&M T-shirt. Then, coffee in hand, he settled in front of his laptop and clicked it on. He searched Bonneville Vineyards.
Immediately the vineyard’s Web site popped up. It featured rolling land and rows and rows of thick grapevines stretching toward the setting sun on the horizon. Another picture showcased a group of smiling people, wineglasses in hand around a table. An older woman with long graying hair smiled and laughed with them. The caption underneath read:
Bonneville Vineyard owner, Lydia
“Pretty, dark hair, kind of skinny. Not friendly.”
Dark hair not blond. He flicked the edge of the card with his index finger. “What else do you know about her?”
“She drives a truck. And she cuts to the chase.”
Habit sent the follow-up question back rapid-fire. “And she offered you the job as a favor?”
“That’s what she said.”
Bragg summoned another question but held back, as if Sue had laid a hand on his shoulder. The boy had said more in the last few minutes than in the last month. Go easy. He wanted to go easy. He did.
But he’d been a Ranger too long not to toy with his suspicions. The Templeton name had been attached to a murder investigation this morning. Though the girl in the picture did not match Mitch’s description it had been a dozen years and people changed a lot. He’d not had much time today to dig into Elizabeth Templeton’s accident, but it would be first on his agenda after dinner. Rory’s apartment would keep until morning.
Their waitress brought two more sodas and another basket stacked high with warm rolls. She told them that dinner would be right up before hurrying to another table.
Bragg drank his second soda. He didn’t want to discourage the boy but at the same time wanted him to understand the lay of the land.
Bragg eased back in his chair. “You thinking about taking the job?”
Mitch grabbed a roll, tore it, and watched the steam rise. “Don’t know.”
As frustrating as pulling teeth. “Did she talk about pay?”
“No.”
He reached for bread. “Had a murder investigation this morning. Don’t need to get into a lot of details, but an Elizabeth Templeton’s name came up.”
Mitch glanced up from his soda, his gaze showing a spark of interest. “She kill someone?”
“No. At least I don’t think so.” He wanted to tell him about the picture but hesitated. It was a detail in an active murder investigation. “Wanted you to know, seeing as a Templeton offered you a job.”
“Kind of a stretch, don’t you think?”
“Maybe. But it’s my job to connect dots no one else notices.”
Mitch nodded as if mulling what Bragg had told him. “Maybe I’ll ride out there tomorrow. See what she has to offer.”
Their waitress brought two large steaming plates, each sporting a T-bone and a baked potato with generous sides of butter and sour cream. No green vegetables because it was a shame to serve what neither would eat.
Bragg was about to ask him to wait on the job until he could poke around in the woman’s background when the boy glanced at his steak, picked up his fork and knife, and cut a large bite. He ate the piece and then another and then another. Strain banding Bragg’s lower back eased a notch. Whoever the hell Greer Templeton was, she had made an impact on this kid, which for now, appeared to be for the better. As much as he wanted to tell Mitch to stay clear, he held back.
Later he’d do a little digging.
Dinner ended with slices of apple pie with heaping scoops of vanilla ice cream. Mitch hadn’t said much more during dinner, but he’d eaten his entire meal and the pie. Some might view eating a meal as a baby step but as far as Bragg was concerned it was the first sign of life he’d seen in the boy since he’d returned home.
They arrived home right at nine. Mitch thanked him for the meal, another first, and headed straight to his room.
While a pot of coffee brewed, Bragg changed into jeans and a faded Texas A&M T-shirt. Then, coffee in hand, he settled in front of his laptop and clicked it on. He searched Bonneville Vineyards.
Immediately the vineyard’s Web site popped up. It featured rolling land and rows and rows of thick grapevines stretching toward the setting sun on the horizon. Another picture showcased a group of smiling people, wineglasses in hand around a table. An older woman with long graying hair smiled and laughed with them. The caption underneath read:
Bonneville Vineyard owner, Lydia
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