Truth and Consequences by Linda Winfree Page A

the kitchen.
    Altee slid fluffy scrambled eggs onto waiting plates and shot her an irritable look. “I’m not going to stop living because of a man.”
    Kathleen refused to rise to the bait. “You think I have?”
    “Not because of a man, but you’ve buried yourself under all that grief and guilt you carry around.”
    Lord, she wished Altee would beat around the bush every once in a while. She poured coffee, her hands shaking. “I have a life.”
    “No. You have a job that consumes you.” Altee dropped mile-high flaky biscuits next to the eggs. “Going out on the occasional duty date your mama sets up is not living. Dancing with Calvert at all those fundraisers you attend for your daddy is not living. Just face it. The real you is in that coffin with—”
    “Stop.” Kathleen slammed the carafe back on the coffee maker. “Enough. I’m going to get the paper.”
    Walking down the long hall to the front door, she struggled against the anger and pain. Altee knew this subject was off-limits. Everyone did. The problem was, once Altee got on a tear about something, getting her to back off was beyond difficult. Kathleen did not want to spend the entire workday hearing about how she needed a life.
    She swung the inner door open and the snake fell on her bare foot. Pure, primal dread trickled down her back.
    “God Almighty!” She leapt back, the rattlesnake’s body rolling over on the floor. A moment passed before the realization the snake was dead sank into her brain.
    “What’s wrong?” Footsteps thudded on the floor and concern laced Altee’s voice.
    “That was in my door.” Kathleen nudged the lifeless snake with her toe and revulsion pulsed in her veins.
    Trying to conceal the tremors running along her skin, Kathleen turned to face Altee. Her partner stared back, her skin yellow, SIG nine millimeter in hand, eyes huge and dark in her face.
    Altee’s throat moved with her swallow. “I told you, Kath, these boys don’t play.”
    * * *
    “Someone killed it with one clean shot through the head. A damn good shot.” Tick straightened to his feet, gazing down at the dead snake. He slanted a grin in Altee’s direction. “Think you could do that after all that extra time you’ve been spending on the range, Price?”
    “Hey, that practice has paid off.” Altee leaned against the wall and returned his grin. “But I’m good at lots of stuff, Calvert.”
    “Really? You might have to show me sometime.”
    Their meaningless flirtation grated on Kathleen’s exposed nerve endings. “Could you two save this for later? Altee, I thought you were swearing off men.”
    “I’ll make an exception for him. He’s good to his mama—that says a lot.”
    Tick chuckled, lifting the snake by its tail and dropping it into an oversized evidence bag. “You and Montaine split up?”
    “That’s one way to put it.”
    “He wasn’t good enough for you—”
    “Hello? This isn’t a Sunday social,” Kathleen snapped, pacing a few steps down the hall. “Somebody put a freakin’ snake in my door!”
    Unruffled by her anger, Tick closed the evidence bag. “What do you expect, Kath? You’re stepping on Jim Ed’s toes. He’s not going to send you candy and roses, for God’s sake.”
    She glared at him, arms folded over her chest, as much to contain her fear as her anger. “You sound like you think I should back off and let him get away with murder.”
    “I didn’t say that. I’m just telling you that if you go ahead with this investigation, you can expect things to get even nastier. You can’t be naïve and think he’s just going to lie down and let you build a capital murder case against him.”
    “I’m not naïve.” At least, she hadn’t thought she was, but she’d believed her position with the GBI would protect her. What had she been thinking? Being a US Marshall hadn’t protected Tick’s father from Bill Thatcher’s retaliation.
    “This is a typical warning. It’s a back-off statement. The next one