"Feehan, Christine - Lover Beware 03 - Brand, Fiona - After Midnight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feehan Christine)

Mason Wheeler, another local identity whose family had been one of the original settlers of Tayler's Creek, looked uncomfortable. "That he did."
"And did he try to shoot you while he was about it?"
A crease formed between Mason's bushy eyebrows. "Don't be ridiculous-"
"I'm not being ridiculous." She tapped her forehead. "I'm using this. Wish Tucker was capable of doing the same; maybe then we'd get some crimes solved. For my money, Tucker needs to retire. I'd put Rider in the job."
Mason looked outraged. "He can't take Tucker's job. He has to be trained."

After Midnight 191
"He's trained," Marg retorted flatly. "Afghanistan, Bosnia, Bougainville, Timor... You want me to go on?"
Mason crossed his arms over his chest. "That doesn't mean he can do a policing job."
Marg rolled her eyes. "What it means is he's been doing a policing job, and he's got the medals to prove it. Ever heard of peacekeeping, Mason? It's in the papers a lot these days, on account that some people can't settle their problems with common sense and discussion, they have to use a gun to finish their arguments. That's the job Rider's been doing, and he picked up a bullet a couple of years back for his trouble. If Tucker ever comes near a live round, aside from a misfire because he's dropped his gun, I'll eat every hat in my store. And that," she muttered beneath her breath, "would probably kill me."
Someone muttered that it would take a hell of a lot more than that to kill the old bird.
Marg didn't bother to turn her head. "I heard that, Owen," she said calmly. "I was talking to your mother this morning. Shouldn't you be in Winslow today, picking up your benefit? Or have you finally got a job?"
There was a muttered imprecation, as Owen Mullens, a lanky blond youth who had more of an affinity for surfboards than anything that might have a paycheck attached to it, slunk back into the shadows.
There was a small silence as Marg marched pointedly back to her shop, which was wedged between the supermarket and the police station.
Ely Murdoch, the head of the community council, and Tay-ler's Creek's self-appointed mayor, cleared his throat and adjusted the bill cap shading his craggy face. "Well, whoever did do the crime stole the Dillons' home theatre that was worth upwards of twenty thousand dollars. And all the videos." He shook his head. "Apparently the screen was one of those fancy new ones you hang on the wall."
There was another small silence, then someone murmured, "Wonder what was on the videos?"
Jane snapped her boot closed, abruptly sickened by the prurient interest in the petty details of the crime, when Rider was probably at this very minute being read his rights and questioned. She was more certain than ever that he could never

192 FIONA BRAND
have committed such a crime. Marg had hit the nail on the head when she'd stated that Michael wasn't a criminal, he was one of the good guys.
She glanced at Mason, who seemed set and determined that Michael was guilty. "In this country people are innocent until proven guilty. Michael hasn't been proven guilty yet."
Mason's expression was cold. "The police don't cuff people for no reason. An arrest's been made, which means they must have evidence."
Cold skimmed the length of Jane's spine. Her mind replayed the image of Michael being pushed down the path to the entrance of the police station, and it registered that her own inner certainty aside, she knew less about her neighbour than she'd thought. She knew he was a special forces soldier; she knew he was trained to kill, and neither fact was reassuring.
Nothing about Michael Rider was designed to make people feel comfortable. He was too overtly male, too mysterious, a double handful of everything that was wild and dangerous. She was beginning to think she was crazy, fixating on him for so many years.
He was an unknown quantity. Even more so than she'd imagined, because according to Marg, he wasn't single as Jane had thought; he was involved with someone.
The fact that he had a girlfriend should have filled her with relief, given that she'd spent the last three days hyperventilating about the possibility that he might want her. But she didn't feel relieved. After months of living in an emotionless limbo, something had finally broken through her numbness. Against all odds, against all common sense, imagining Michael Rider sprawled in bed, naked, with another woman hurt.
Yolanda shifted her toddler to her other hip and stabbed a finger at Mason. "You've changed your tune. I heard you say just the other day that Michael Rider was a hero."
"That was before Aubrey Dillon got shot, and his wife got raped."
"There are plenty of men in this town who had their eye on Carol Dillon; I don't think Rider was in the running. Carol must be in her forties, a little old for Rider."
"Rape is rape. Age don't come into it."

After Midnight 193
Macie made a sound of disgust. "God give me strength, we have an expert." She viewed Mason over the rim of her coffee cup. "Why would a guy who looks like Michael Rider bother with rape?"
Mason looked triumphant. "Everyone knows rape is a power crime."
Macie rolled her eyes. "Take one look at Rider, buddy. I don't think he has any issues with power. He's been beating women off ever since his wife left seven years ago. I know," she said wryly. "I'm one of them."
"Way to go, Macie."
Macie flipped another finger in the direction of the supermarket overhang. "And if Rider didn't do the deed, that means the murderer is still out there, maybe lining up his next target."
"Maybe the murderer's a woman."
Yolanda snorted and gave Mason an incredulous look. "Get a grip, Mason. There was a rape. The police took samples, which means there was semen. I could be wrong, but I don't think women have managed to produce semen yet. If they had, we'd be able to cut men out of the reproduction process. Now, that would be world news."
Mason's neck flushed bright red. "I'm going to tell your husband you said that."
Yolanda rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah, four kids down the track and one vasectomy later-like he's going to be threatened. He knows that if he so much as comes near me with sperm, I shoot to kill. Look, maybe they've got the right guy, and maybe they haven't, but I'm not going to take it for granted. If I were you I'd get an alarm system installed and lock up tight, because until I hear that Rider did do the crime, I'm going to assume that the murderer is still out there."
"I heard Rider's got guns, including a twenty-two."
Jane jerked her keys from the boot lock. "Practically everyone in the district has a gun, and Rider's got more reason than most to own guns. He's a professional soldier."
"He's used to killing."
"Yeah, right, so he's bright enough to leave the SAS and open fire on his hometown? I don't think so."
"John Tucker brought him in cuffed," Mason said stubbornly. "There's no smoke without fire."
Jane eyed Mason coldly. There hadn't been any logic in

194 FIONA BRAND
this conversation from the get-go, she didn't know why she expected any now. "In five years, Tucker's biggest arrest was that crew from Winslow who were stealing farm bikes and rustling cattle. Apart from that he rousts drunks and prosecutes shoplifters. Homicide is not exactly his strong suit."