what Fred and Alana had determined. She bit her bottom lip. Why was she calling? What did she hope to find out? "I'm just trying to look into it. The police don't know any of us."
"You think one of us in the industry is responsible?"
"It would make sense, don't you think?"
"No."
"Then what do you think?"
"I don't know, Layla. I let the police do their job."
The chastisement stung. "Well, thanks anyway, Bob." She hung up the phone, letting her hand rest on the number pad as she thought.
She'd called all the independents she'd contracted and didn't learn a single thing. Except that Bob would never work for her again.
Right now she had to head home and get ready. She had a performance to give.
She'd give the best performance of her life tonight and may just have to do the same to save her business.
"THAT WENT BETTER THAN I thought." Houston started the car and pulled out of the LeJeune's driveway.
Maddox swallowed. "Always hard to tell someone her loved one is dead, though." Worse was witnessing a loved one dying right in front of them. He'd never forget the image of his mother dying on her bedroom floor. The memory was emblazoned upon his brain forever.
Houston glanced at the clock on the dashboard light. "I'm going to interview Fred Daly, Second Chances' assistant director and the good doctors there. Want to tag along?"
"I have plans tonight."
Popping his gum, Houston took his attention off the road for a moment to look at him. "Do tell?"
Heat fingered out across Maddox's shoulders and neck. "Yeah. I promised a certain lady supper in exchange for her help. She called it in today."
"Anyone special?" Houston concentrated on the road again.
"No. Definitely not." Maddox could've bit his tongue. He didn't mean to sound so sharp and callous.
"I see."
And by Houston's tone, Maddox knew he was about to get yet another lecture on the joys of a committed relationship. He wasn't in the mood, so he would cut off the spiel before Houston could start. "And I'm kinda working."
Houston grunted. "How's that?"
"Well, after supper, I'm taking the lady to a performance."
"A performance?" Houston steered the car into the sheriff's department parking lot. "How is that considered working?"
"It's a Flows of Grace performance."
Houston turned off the engine and twisted to stare at Maddox. "That rings a bell."
"It should." Maddox smiled. "It's the dancing group Layla Taylor belongs to. I already checked . . . she's scheduled to dance tonight."
"Think that's smart? Just to show up like that?"
"It's a public performance." Maddox reached for the door handle. "She probably won't even notice me in the audience."
Houston opened his door and got out of the car. He spit his gum into the trash can beside the parking lot. "And if she does?"
"So what?" Maddox slammed the door shut.
"She could take your presence there as harassment."
Maddox chuckled as he dug his keys out of his pocket. "Puh-leeze. Harassment? By attending a public performance? That's not harassment by anybody's standards."
"Stalking?" Houston stopped beside Maddox's truck.
Maddox frowned. "You're reaching now."
"I don't think it's a good idea."
"She won't even know I'm there. I promise."
"So, why are you going?"
"She's a person of interest in the case. I'm just trying to get a handle on her."
Houston grinned. "Yeah, you're trying to get a handle on her all right."
Maddox pointed at him. "Don't forget Uncle George invited us both over for lunch tomorrow. Fried backstrap. Noon."
"I'm in."
"See you tomorrow." Maddox slipped behind the wheel of his truck. He couldn't explain why he wanted to see Layla Taylor perform her ballroom dancing. He just did.
And he sure couldn't explain why he was taking Megan Goins with him. That could truly be an incident waiting to happen. But he'd needed an excuse to be there, and what better one than to be on a date.
Just in case Layla did see him.
Maddox started the engine and backed out of his parking space. A fleeting
"You think one of us in the industry is responsible?"
"It would make sense, don't you think?"
"No."
"Then what do you think?"
"I don't know, Layla. I let the police do their job."
The chastisement stung. "Well, thanks anyway, Bob." She hung up the phone, letting her hand rest on the number pad as she thought.
She'd called all the independents she'd contracted and didn't learn a single thing. Except that Bob would never work for her again.
Right now she had to head home and get ready. She had a performance to give.
She'd give the best performance of her life tonight and may just have to do the same to save her business.
"THAT WENT BETTER THAN I thought." Houston started the car and pulled out of the LeJeune's driveway.
Maddox swallowed. "Always hard to tell someone her loved one is dead, though." Worse was witnessing a loved one dying right in front of them. He'd never forget the image of his mother dying on her bedroom floor. The memory was emblazoned upon his brain forever.
Houston glanced at the clock on the dashboard light. "I'm going to interview Fred Daly, Second Chances' assistant director and the good doctors there. Want to tag along?"
"I have plans tonight."
Popping his gum, Houston took his attention off the road for a moment to look at him. "Do tell?"
Heat fingered out across Maddox's shoulders and neck. "Yeah. I promised a certain lady supper in exchange for her help. She called it in today."
"Anyone special?" Houston concentrated on the road again.
"No. Definitely not." Maddox could've bit his tongue. He didn't mean to sound so sharp and callous.
"I see."
And by Houston's tone, Maddox knew he was about to get yet another lecture on the joys of a committed relationship. He wasn't in the mood, so he would cut off the spiel before Houston could start. "And I'm kinda working."
Houston grunted. "How's that?"
"Well, after supper, I'm taking the lady to a performance."
"A performance?" Houston steered the car into the sheriff's department parking lot. "How is that considered working?"
"It's a Flows of Grace performance."
Houston turned off the engine and twisted to stare at Maddox. "That rings a bell."
"It should." Maddox smiled. "It's the dancing group Layla Taylor belongs to. I already checked . . . she's scheduled to dance tonight."
"Think that's smart? Just to show up like that?"
"It's a public performance." Maddox reached for the door handle. "She probably won't even notice me in the audience."
Houston opened his door and got out of the car. He spit his gum into the trash can beside the parking lot. "And if she does?"
"So what?" Maddox slammed the door shut.
"She could take your presence there as harassment."
Maddox chuckled as he dug his keys out of his pocket. "Puh-leeze. Harassment? By attending a public performance? That's not harassment by anybody's standards."
"Stalking?" Houston stopped beside Maddox's truck.
Maddox frowned. "You're reaching now."
"I don't think it's a good idea."
"She won't even know I'm there. I promise."
"So, why are you going?"
"She's a person of interest in the case. I'm just trying to get a handle on her."
Houston grinned. "Yeah, you're trying to get a handle on her all right."
Maddox pointed at him. "Don't forget Uncle George invited us both over for lunch tomorrow. Fried backstrap. Noon."
"I'm in."
"See you tomorrow." Maddox slipped behind the wheel of his truck. He couldn't explain why he wanted to see Layla Taylor perform her ballroom dancing. He just did.
And he sure couldn't explain why he was taking Megan Goins with him. That could truly be an incident waiting to happen. But he'd needed an excuse to be there, and what better one than to be on a date.
Just in case Layla did see him.
Maddox started the engine and backed out of his parking space. A fleeting
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