Elizabeth Lynn Casey - Southern Sewing Circle 10 - Wedding Duress by Elizabeth Lynn Casey Page B

of disheveled sandy blond hair draping itself across his left eye. “You know Leona?”
    She pushed the door shut, came around the front of the car, and stopped at the base of the steps. “I know Leona well enough to know she doesn’t go anywhere without that rabbit.”
    The lack of any visible movement of his hair as he nodded gave her pause.
    Hairspray, perhaps?
    Or maybe hair gel?
    Shaking the odd side thought from her head, she waited for something that would explain the unexplainable. Beyond, of course, the fact that Paris was being held by an attractive man in his late twenties . . .
    “I took a bit of a chance letting Paris”—he engaged eye contact with the nose-twitching bunny for a split second—“into the ambulance in the first place, but at least I put my foot down about the emergency room.”
    “Emergency room?” she repeated. “Wait. What are you talking about?”
    He repositioned Paris inside the crook of his arm and peered down at the papers by his feet. “Damn. I knew I should have tried to get over here yesterday but I was too busy keeping up with Leona’s instructions.” An ineffectual rake of his key-holding hand through his hair confirmed her earlier suspicions. “I had no idea looking after a bunny could be so all-consuming, you know?”
    “Stop! Go back to the emergency room part. Please.”
    “Can I just bring her inside first and get her one of the treats Leona is insisting I give her before bed tonight?” Without waiting for her answer, the young man inserted the key in the lock and pushed her friend’s front door wide open. “If you’re a friend of Leona’s, I’m sure she’d be fine with you coming inside, too.”
    Tori jogged up the stairs and followed him into Leona’s front entryway. “The treats are in there,” she said, pointing into the rarely used kitchen. “Leona keeps them in the third drawer down, to the right of the fridge. Underneath the pile of take-out menus.”
    When he located the bag of bunny treats, he pulled out a few choice morsels and held them out for Paris to sniff and nibble, the animal’s wide eyes a near-perfect match to the confusion Tori still felt. “Okay, she’s had her treat. Now where is Leona? And why do you have Paris?”
    “My partner and I got the call about her fall while we were playing cards at the station Monday night.” He stroked his wide hand down Paris’s back and then leaned over to set her free. “I’m Sam, by the way, and I’m also an EMT in case I didn’t mention that.”
    “You didn’t, but go on . . .”
    “Leona fell right over there.” Sam took three steps out of the kitchen and waved his hand toward the overturnedthrow rug and scattered knickknacks on the far side of the otherwise pristinely kept living room. “I’m guessing she lost her balance on the stationary step she was using to exercise and went down on her left side.”
    Paris froze in response to Tori’s gasp, terror making the rabbit’s nose twitch even faster. “Leona fell?”
    “She did. But fortunately, she’d been waiting for a call back from some friend of hers and her cell phone was within reach. That’s when she called us.”
    “And this happened when?” she asked.
    “Monday night. Somewhere between ten and eleven.”
    The night of the sewing circle meeting and Miss Gracie’s fall . . .
    “You said Leona was waiting for a call back from a friend when this happened?”
    “That’s what she said.”
    Monday night . . .
    Between ten and eleven . . .
    If she was remembering correctly, she was probably on the phone with Milo when Leona fell and called for help . . .
    “Wait. I think I heard the sirens that night,” she said as two and two began to come together.
    “They were blaring, that’s for sure.”
    Tori leaned against the nearest wall to offset the sudden weakness in her legs. “Was—was she in a lot of pain?”
    “I can’t imagine she wasn’t, but she seemed to do an amazing job of holding it at