Christ, was he really saying these things? It was true, it was all true, but he wasn’t doing it for this prick.
“Well, it better. But you’ll know soon that I don’t make idle threats. Let’s call this a little incentive to work harder.”
“Fuck you.”
“I’ve studied you enough to know that you’re looking for a way out. There isn’t one. You need to do your job.”
Tanner heard the guy gulp something, probably booze. His gaze tracked to the legal pad on the couch. A light bulb went off.
“She’ll be spending lots of time with me starting this week. I promise you.”
“Well, bad boys still need lessons. Don’t make me give you another.”
The phone disconnected.
Tanner kicked the leather ottoman with his boot. “Fuck.”
Sommerville was on a tear. Tanner had little doubt there would be some form of payment now. He could only wait and see.
He needed to call Peggy to talk through autopsy cover-ups. And warn her to watch her back. Sommerville had better not go after his sister.
Picking up the legal pad, he scanned his tightly printed outline.
Suddenly he knew exactly how to make Meredith go out with him, and he wouldn’t even need to toss his ethics to the wind to arrange it.
Chapter 22
When Meredith left the locker room, Tanner was leaning against the concrete block wall outside of it, looking oh-so-delicious in a black fleece and worn denim. She was growing to like their swims way too much.
“I need you to go on a drive with me. There’s something we should talk about.”
She shifted her gym bag, surprised by his serious tone. “Okay.”
Stepping forward, he took the strap from her. “Let me carry it. We can take my car.”
He held the door open for her like usual, but something was up.
His clenched jaw made her stomach hurt. She hoped it wasn’t anything about Jill. She’d been both inconsolable and enraged all week long. Jemma’s death had put a hole in her heart, and Brian’s continued silence was aggravating—and worrying—her. Meredith didn’t know how to help Jill except to visit the coffee shop more often and watch chick flicks with her until she finally fell asleep on the couch.
As soon as they got into the car Tanner turned the heat on, obviously noticing that she was cold. “Do you have any suggestions for a quiet, private place where we won’t be overheard?”
The wind blew hard against the car. She rubbed her arms, her heart beating faster. “How about my grandpa’s house?”
She didn’t ask why he didn’t take her to his place. In some ways, she was glad. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see where he lived. It was too…personal. Not to mention tempting.
“It’ll be okay, Meredith.” He put the car in gear.
He looks hot when he’s all serious.
Meredith didn’t even bother to comment. In a scary way, she was becoming used to the sultry voice in her head.
Tanner drove silently, following her directions. She wrung her hands instead of biting her nails, her mind awash with possibilities. When they arrived, she went around back, unearthing the key from the birdhouse by the deck. The house carried the faint whiff of coffee when she stepped inside. Her grandpa had left about an hour ago, she knew. He was always at work early.
“Do you want some coffee?” She surveyed the dirty dishes in the sink and the crumbs on the counter.
“Sure.” He shut the door and took her coat, hanging it on the fleur-de-lis coat rack.
She couldn’t help noticing how handsome he looked with his big shoulders, thick hair, and brown, melting eyes. The house was suddenly too quiet. She reached for the coffee.
“I had a visitor at my house the other night. I can’t tell you who. I promised him anonymity.”
She dropped the coffee can on the counter, her hands going lax in relief. A story? He’d brought her here for a story?
Looking for something more personal, dearie?
Grabbing the container again, she let out a breath. “Okay. What can you tell me?”
“The source thinks Jemma’s death didn’t play out like the autopsy said.”
She dropped the can again. All her grandpa’s suspicions shouted in her head. She leaned back against the counter. “Why would your source think that?”
“He supplied the marijuana she smoked. He thinks his supplier’s been lacing it. The autopsy should have picked that up. It only mentioned the heart murmur and alcohol, according to The Independent.”
“Hmm.” She’d figured the reporter had stayed silent out of respect for the dead. The paper didn’t always include all the details from an autopsy report. “So your source—a known drug dealer—thinks there’s a cover up? And you believe him?”