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Tate’s eyes widened. Yet another clue to their killer’s identity. Somewhere in this man’s past, he had suffered at the hands of law enforcement or possibly people in power. But suffered what? And where?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tate had washed up, changed out of his muddy clothes into jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, and then headed back to the kitchen in his bare feet.
Cameron had cleaned up, too, and was in the process of giving Wade a blow-by-blow account of what went down.
When Tate walked in, he could see by the look on Nola’s face that she was rattled. Hell. He didn’t blame her. So was he.
“I’m here. Show me the silk purse,” he said.
She glanced up. She hadn’t heard him come in, and now she wondered how long he had been watching her. If he only knew how angry she was becoming at the whole incredible situation, he wouldn’t worry so much that she might have an emotional meltdown. She was too pissed for that. She waved her hand toward the table, which had already been set.
“Sit. While you and Cameron were playing in the bayou, Wade and I created this amazing feast.”
Wade carried a big cast-iron skillet over to the table and set it on a magazine they were using for a trivet. Nola got out a bowl of salad and handed that to Wade. Her arm was aching, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t bear, and she didn’t want to take a pain pill until bedtime. Still, when she sat down at the table, she cupped her elbow to keep the stitches from pulling.
Tate saw her wince.
“How long since you took a pain pill?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
“Where are they?”
“I’ll take one after we eat, okay? For once, stop trying to orchestrate everything and relax.”
“It’s in my DNA,” he said.
“Like I don’t already know that,” she muttered.
Still, when Cameron dug into the casserole, the aroma shifted their attention.
“What do you call this?” Cameron asked.
“Feeb feed,” Nola said, and then grinned. “Isn’t Feeb another word for FBI?”
“In some circles,” Tate drawled, as he took a big bite. “Oh, my Lord, this is good! What on earth did you put together from that crazy assortment of groceries to make this?”
“Frozen hash browns, sliced ham from the deli, an onion, a can of corn and a can of peas. I made a white sauce from milk, butter and biscuit mix for thickening, and diced up some cheese for a topping.”
“I watched her doing it and still can’t believe she thought to use all this stuff together,” Wade said.
Cameron took a big bite. “It’s really good, Nola. If you’re available, I might be in the market for a girlfriend.”
“She’s not available,” Tate said shortly.
The men laughed, but Nola ignored them, dipping out a helping onto her plate, along with a serving of the salad.
“Hey, what about that pretty Laura Doyle at the Red Cross Center? I thought you had a thing for her?” Wade asked Cameron.
Cameron grinned as he took another bite. “She is really pretty, but I don’t know if she can cook.”
More laughter filled the room until Tate finally began to turn loose of regret. He’d been in this business for a while now and knew better than to take things personally. It was all because of Nola that he’d let this get under his skin.
“Even the salad is good, but we didn’t have any salad dressing,” Wade said.
“I used salt, pepper and some lemon juice. In fact, this meal used up just about everything we had to eat.”