Diana Palmer - The Texas Ranger

“Simon says he’s assigned you to this case,” he said curtly, refusing to permit his mind to look back in time.

She nodded. “That’s right. I usually do liaison work, but I know more about Dale Jennings than most of the other investigators.”

“Of course you do,” he drawled with venomous sarcasm.

“Here we go again,” she said with resignation. “Well, don’t stand on ceremony, Brannon, get it off your chest. I tell lies, I damage careers…maybe I cause computer crashes, but the jury’s still out on that one.”

He felt disoriented. He’d expected her to bite her lip and look tormented, as she had two years ago when he’d glared at her in court during Jennings’s trial. He reminded himself that she should be tormented. She’d led him on without a qualm, when she knew she couldn’t be intimate with a man. And her public accusations could have landed Bib Webb in jail. But this was a different Josette, a strong and cool woman who didn’t back down.

“I’ll need whatever information you have on Jennings,” he said abruptly.

“No problem. I’ll send it to the San Antonio office by overnight delivery before I leave the office today,” she said. She indicated the stack of files. “In fact, I’ve just been downstairs copying the information so that I could do that.” She smiled with forced pleasantry. “Unless you’d rather lug it back on the plane?”

“I wouldn’t. How very efficient you’ve become, Miss Langley.”

“Haven’t I, though?” she replied pertly. “Look out, Brannon. One of these days I may be state attorney general myself, and wouldn’t that tie a knot in your ego? Now, if you’ll excuse me?”

Josette turned and started to walk away. The elevator had departed while they were talking. It was on the tenth floor. He pushed the down button viciously.

“Did Jennings have any family?” he asked abruptly.

She turned to look at him. “He has a mother who’s a semi-invalid. She’s on disability and she has a bad heart. Just recently she lost her home because of some scam she fell for. She was supposed to be evicted this week.” Her dark eyes narrowed. “Her husband is long dead and she has no other children. She and Dale were very close. It goes without saying that her son served two years in prison for a crime he never committed while the real culprit escaped justice and inherited the fortune he needed to finance a senate campaign…!”

“Not another word,” Brannon said in a soft, deep tone that made chills run down her spine.

“Or else what?” Josette challenged with uplifted eyebrows and a cool smile. When he didn’t reply, she shrugged. “I hope someone had the decency to inform Mrs. Jennings of her son’s death. Just so that she won’t have to find out on the six o’clock news with footage of the coroner’s office carrying him off in a body bag.”

Brannon’s heart jumped. He hadn’t asked if anyone was going to call Jennings’s next of kin. Damn it, he should have been more efficient. Whatever Jennings had done, his mother wasn’t a criminal.

“I’ll make sure of it,” he said abruptly.

Her eyes softened, just a little, as she matched the memory of that lean, formidable face against the man she’d first known so many years ago. It made her sad to realize what his opinion of her must have been, even at the beginning. He wouldn’t have walked off without a goodbye if there had been any feeling in him for her. He’d hated her the night they’d broken up. He’d hated her more when she accused his friend Webb of being behind Garner’s murder. Probably he still hated her. She didn’t care.

“Thanks,” she said and turned away.

“Have you come across any clue in those files that would point to a potential execution?” he asked deliberately.

Josette came back to face him at once. “You think somebody put out a contract on him,” she said confidently, her voice deliberately lowered.

Brannon nodded. “It was a professional job, not some drive-by shooting or a gang-related conflict. He was on work detail and escaped, apparently with help from some unknown accomplice, made his way to San Antonio, and ended up with a single gunshot wound to the back of the head at point-blank range, just around the corner from our most notorious mobster’s nightclub.”

“But what would be the motive?” she asked curiously. “He was in prison, out of the way. Why would somebody break him out just to kill him? They could have done that at the prison.”

“I don’t know,” he had to admit. “That’s what I have to find out.”

“Poor Dale,” she said heavily. “And his poor mother…!”

“What’s in those files?” he asked, deliberately changing the subject.

“Background checks on all the people who called and wrote to him before his escape, and dossiers on mob figures he was rumored to be connected with,” she said. “We’ll speak to these people, of course, and the police are going to canvas the area where he was found to see if they can turn up any witnesses.”

“Which they won’t find, if it was professional.”

“I know.”

“Why did you choose law enforcement for a career?” he asked unexpectedly.

Her dark eyes narrowed on his face. “Because there are so many innocent people convicted of crimes,” Josette said deliberately. “And so many guilty people go free.”

Brannon stiffened at the innuendo. “Jennings was a mobster and he had a record,” he reminded her.

“He had a felony battery conviction, and first offender status,” she corrected. “He was just a teenager at the time. He got drunk, got into a fight and got arrested. He didn’t even go to jail. After a year’s probation, he was turned loose. But that, and his connection with Jake Marsh, went against him when he was arrested for Garner’s murder.”

“He was cold sober when Garner drowned,” he countered. “They did a breath-analyzer test on him and it registered zilch. Jennings had opportunity and the means—Garner was elderly and couldn’t swim. Being knocked over the head and pushed in the lake in that condition would have been instantly fatal, especially where he went off the pier. It’s twenty-feet deep there.”

“Where’s the motive?” she persisted.

“Garner owed him money, he said, and he couldn’t get his check,” Brannon replied with a cold smile. “Garner had fired him, and they’d already had one argument. They may have argued on the pier. Your memory of the events was questioned. You were drunk, I believe?” he chided.

Josette was still ashamed to admit that she’d been stupid enough to drink spiked punch. Not being used to hard liquor, the vodka had made her disoriented and weak. When she was fifteen, she’d unknowingly been given LSD in her soft drink and almost ended up raped. These days she never took a drink unless she was completely confident of where it had come from. “I wasn’t totally sober,” she admitted in a guilt-ridden tone. “But, then, neither were most of the people at that party. Silvia said she saw Mr. Garner at his car before she took me home and even waved at him. I didn’t see that. She said it was because I was drunk.”

“You didn’t say that at the trial,” he reminded her.

“I didn’t have time to say much at the trial,” she replied. “I was immediately suppoenaed as a prosecution witness because I hadn’t seen Dale or Mrs. Webb at the time Garner was allegedly murdered, which was before she took me home, not after! And I didn’t see Henry Garner at his car as we left. I tried to point out that Dale hadn’t had a blackjack in his car when we arrived. But the prosecuting attorney took me apart, with your helpful suggestions about bringing up my testimony at the rape trial when I was fifteen,” she added pointedly and saw his eyelids flinch. “He destroyed me on the witness stand. I heard later that you and Bib Webb told him about the rape trial. I thought you wanted to help me.” She managed a bitter smile. “You taught me how to dance. You were friends with my father. When I went to college in San Antonio, you were always around. We went out for months together, before Mr. Garner…died.” She drew in a long breath. It hurt to remember how Marc had been with her. She’d thought they were in love. She certainly had been. What a joke! “But none of that mattered, did it? You believed that I lied to implicate Bib Webb. You never doubted it.”