“So how do we do that?” Gibson asked.
“We, meaning law enforcement,” Harlan said, “need to find enough evidence that they’ll take over the case. Right now we have theories and suspicions, but not enough to go to the feds.”
“He’s a high-profile man,” Cassidy said. “Even more now that he’s up for a federal position.”
“Which makes our job harder,” Harlan said. “It’ll be too easy for him to argue it’s a baseless smear campaign designed to lose him his federal appointment.”
“And it also means he has a lot to lose,” Nadine said.
“Exactly,” Harlan said. “Which is why I’m glad y’all kept Callie’s identity quiet. We don’t want this to get out too soon. Believe me, I’ll do everything in my power to get the right people involved.”
Flashes ran through my mind. Old memories, long since locked away. Things I hadn’t thought about in years. “Judge Kendall was involved with some terrible people. I think you should assume he still is.”
“What kind of people?” Cassidy asked, her voice gentle.
“Organized crime type of people,” I said, searching those old memories for meaning. “I heard things sometimes that I wasn’t supposed to. He had agreements in place. He’d make sure their people went free or received reduced sentences. I think in exchange for money, or sometimes favors.”
“Could you identify any of those people?” Harlan asked.
“I’m not sure. It’s been a long time. A lot of my memories are… fuzzy. But if I saw them, I think I could.”
Harlan smoothed his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “I see. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Here’s what I don’t understand,” Cassidy said. “Your parents always claimed you were depressed. Your mother even showed me a photo of the cuts on your arms, claiming it was self-harm. Did she know that it wasn’t? Is that why she didn’t show it to the authorities at first?”
“Maybe that was a cry for help,” Nadine said. “She’s been married to that monster for a long time. Maybe she was hoping you wouldn’t believe Callie had done it to herself, and that you’d uncover the truth.”
“That’s possible, I suppose,” Cassidy said, her expression pensive. “Callie, do you think your father was abusing your mother as well?”
A rush of anxiety hit me like a truck. The box in my mind howled and shook, banging against the floor. Memories pushed at the edge of my consciousness, but when I tried to bring them forward, there was nothing but darkness and mist. I could almost feel the pain in my arms—the scars I’d covered with ink, red and bleeding. But I couldn’t remember it happening. I’d locked it away too deep.
“Hey,” Gibson said, putting an arm around my shoulders. “You all right?”
I nodded. “I’m sorry. Some things are just so hard to remember. But I don’t think I ever saw him do anything to hurt her.”
“I know it’s been a long time, but if there’s anything else you can tell us, maybe it’ll lead us to the proof we need,” Harlan said.
“I wish I could remember more specifics,” I said. “I know I heard him threaten people. And he talked about bribes and blackmail. Once in a while that was dinner conversation. I don’t remember what my mother had to say about that.”
I paused again, reaching back. There was so much more, I could feel it.
“You’re doing good,” Gibson whispered.
His soft encouragement helped. “I always had the sense that my father was like a spider, with a big web of contacts and associates. A lot of them were political, but some were criminals, and he was at the center, directing all of it.”
“People working for him, probably with degrees of separation,” Harlan said.
“Keeping his hands clean,” Cassidy added.
Harlan nodded. “One thing I’m certain about, he doesn’t want his daughter turning up, especially now. I suspect he has concerns about how much incriminating evidence you have against him. And they’re still watching our investigation.”
I blew out a frustrated breath. I had no doubt the judge was worried about what I’d tell the authorities. Deep inside, I knew the reason for the scars on my arms had something to do with punishing me into silence. I’d heard things he didn’t want me to tell. But there was still a piece missing.
“They’re still watching?” Cassidy asked. “How do you know?”
“Their lawyer called the station this morning. He said he’d gotten word that we might have discovered a new witness. He was clearly referring to Gibson.”
Gibson made a low noise in this throat. A sick feeling spread through my stomach and I took a sip of water to wash down the taste of bile.
“The whole town knows you brought him in, and why,” Cassidy said. “They could have heard it from anyone.”
“They could have,” Harlan said. “But it’s a reminder that we need to tread carefully. This is a man who’s avoided the law for a very long time. We might only get one shot at him. That’s why I don’t think we should have Callie come forward yet. Child abuse is serious, but after all this time, it’ll be hard to prove. Especially against a man like him, who knows how to work the system.”
“So what do we do?” I asked.
“For now, we keep your secret,” he said. “You’re Maya Davis. You keep doing what you’re doing, and we’ll keep doing our job, looking for enough evidence to get the right people involved.”
“I wish there was something more I could give you,” I said.
“It’s all right,” Harlan said. “You were just a child. I’ll tell you one thing, it’s a pleasure to no longer be investigating your disappearance. Now we’re finally focused on bringing down the monster who hurt you.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
“All right, everyone, we need to clear out all this bad juju,” Nadine said, getting up from the table. “How about some pie?”
“Bad juju, Mom?” Cassidy asked with a laugh, and got up to follow Nadine into the kitchen.
“Y’all know what I mean,” Nadine said with a wave of her hand.
I glanced at Gibson and he met my eyes. There was a softness there—reassurance. It sent a warm, tingly feeling through me, chasing away the fear. I was still worried—about him, the judge, whether we could find enough proof. But when he looked at me like that, his gaze gentle, the corner of his mouth turned up in the barest hint of a smile, it was easier to feel brave.
And harder to keep from feeling a whole mess of other things.
17
GIBSON
Still blinking the sleep from my eyes, I poured myself a cup of coffee. I heard soft footsteps coming down the hall and my back prickled, like a cool breeze had brushed my neck.
Callie came into the kitchen, showing way too much skin in a little tank top and shorts. She gave me a sleepy smile, but it was hard to know where to look. The soft lines of her neck curved into her shoulders and a tendril of hair hung across her collarbone. Without really meaning to, my eyes dipped to her chest, to the tempting roundness of her tits.
I tore my eyes away, hoping she hadn’t noticed. Damn it, Gibson.
“Morning.” She grabbed a mug out of the cupboard and poured herself a cup. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Fine,” I muttered.
“Are you sure? Because I keep telling you, I’ll take the couch and you can have your bedroom back.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
She’d been here a little over a week, and she said that every morning. But I wasn’t having it. I couldn’t do much for her, but keeping her comfortable was something.
Besides, I kind of liked having her in my bed, even if I wasn’t in it with her. Made no sense, but a lot of things didn’t make sense since she’d reappeared. Like why I couldn’t stop seeing her every time I closed my eyes. And why those images kept turning to her getting naked.
I sat down with my coffee, but it was hard to be still. I had too much adrenaline in my system lately. Made me edgy. Truth be told, I was itching f
or a fight. A good fuck would do it, too, but that certainly wasn’t happening. I needed something to take the edge off. I had too much on my mind, too many feelings swirling around my gut.
Maybe I’d go to the Lookout tonight. There was always someone looking to start shit with me there. Sure, I’d be coming in hot, looking for trouble, but I just needed to feel my knuckles crunch against something solid. Maybe take a good hit across the chin. Taste a little blood. A little bar brawl among friends was a great way to blow off some steam.
Callie’s lavender scent reached my nose a heartbeat before she joined me at the table. God, that girl. She was riling me up in ways I was having a hard time containing. My eyes drifted across the smooth skin of her shoulder, imagining my lips there. My teeth.
I tore my eyes away. Again. Looked into my mug like my black coffee held the secrets of the universe.
“Have you ever thought about getting a dog?”
“What?”
She took a sip of coffee and grinned. “A dog. You know, man’s best friend. Loyal companion. Tail wagging all over the place.”
I was glad for something else to focus on, although it still felt like an effort to keep my ass on this side of the table. I wanted to toss her over my shoulder and haul her to my bedroom like a cave man. “I know what dogs are.”
“You seem like a dog person,” she said. “I’m kind of surprised you don’t have one.”
“I like being alone.”
“Do you, though?”
Like a knee-jerk reaction I couldn’t control, I stood and walked a few steps away. Why the fuck was she analyzing my life? I needed a dog? I was doing just fine. If I needed anything, it was to bury my fist in someone’s face.
Damn it, I needed to stop. I didn’t want to yell at her when she hadn’t done anything wrong. And I was still a little bit afraid she’d up and disappear again.
Another reason I was on edge. Every time I left, I kept wondering if she’d be gone when I got back. Or if I’d imagined the whole thing, and she’d never really been here at all.
I clenched my fists and took a deep breath. “Why do you want to know if I’ve thought about getting a dog?”
“Just wondering,” she said, her voice casual. She either couldn’t tell I’d been about to snap at her, or it didn’t bother her. “Like I said, you seem like a dog person.”
I turned toward her and rubbed the back of my neck, but didn’t sit down. I felt like I couldn’t get too close to her right now. It was hard enough just breathing the same air. If I kept smelling that lavender scent, I was going to lose my mind. “I like dogs fine. Just don’t know if I’m cut out to take care of another living thing.”
“Really? You’ve been taking excellent care of me.”
Turning away, I grumbled something incoherent, but hearing her say that made a warm, contented feeling spread through my chest. “I need to go into town. Wanna come?”
“I’d love to. Do you mind waiting, though? I need a shower.”
I had to stop myself from groaning. No, it’s fine, I’ll just be out here dying of this perpetual hard-on while you’re naked in my shower. “I can wait.”
She finished her coffee and went into the bathroom. I paced around the house, listening to the water run. I felt guilty for the way my dick ached with unrelieved tension. Callie was a friend. Even after everything she’d been through, she trusted me. I couldn’t let all this shit I was feeling mess that up.
I thought about calling Jonah to see if he wanted to go for a run today. It was a testament to how keyed up I was. I hated running. But maybe it would help me burn off some of this fucking energy.
After she came out of the bathroom, I took a quick shower and threw on some clean clothes. By the time I finished, she was ready to go. Her colorful hair was wavy and still a little damp and she’d put on a tank top and denim shorts. Her purple toenails matched her hair.
She was all smiles and idle chitchat on the way into town. I still felt like I had a seam about to burst open. She looked good and smelled good and as soon as we were in public, I’d be reminded that she felt good too, even if it was just her hand in mine.
Sure enough, we got out of the truck, and she slipped that soft little hand of hers into mine. The skin contact was both soothing and arousing.
I didn’t even think about letting go. I wanted to surround her—cocoon her in my arms so I could protect her. Being in public made me edgy, like I half-expected the Kendalls to pop out around every corner.
She squeezed my hand. “How about this. I want to stop in and say hi to Leah Mae, then go grab a few things I need at the Pop In. Girl stuff.” She winked. “If you’re still busy when I get done, I’ll wait for you at Moonshine.”
My brow furrowed and unconsciously, I pulled her a little closer to me. I didn’t like this plan.
“I have my phone,” she said, as if she could read my thoughts. “I’ll be fine.”
“All right,” I grumbled. “I’ll walk you to Leah Mae’s shop.”
Reluctantly, I left her at Boots and Lace. Leah Mae had other customers, but Callie still wanted to stay. Maybe the upside was that she might buy another dress. The one she’d worn the other night had looked damn good on her. Nothing wrong with a beautiful girl in a pretty dress.
And there I went again, thinking about her all wrong.
I had a meeting with a client around the corner. Betty Sue Wheatfield owned a little bookstore, tucked in an old storefront that had once been someone’s house. She and her husband were looking to fix up the place. Wanted me to make built-in shelves to replace the rickety freestanding ones they had.
I pushed open the door and inhaled the scent of old paper and leather. Bookshelves crowded the tiny space, books packed tight. There was a shabby old armchair below a four-paned window, the glass so old it was starting to warp. A small digital screen sat on the counter where the cash register used to be. The modern device looked odd in this throwback of a store.
Puck, the shop’s cat, came around a corner to eye me curiously. He was all black except for his white feet and a patch of white on the end of his long tail. I crouched down to scratch him behind the ears.
“Hi, Gibson,” Betty Sue said, her voice cheery. She was in her fifties, with smile lines around her eyes and graying blond hair pulled back from her face. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
I straightened, leaving Puck to rub up against my legs, probably looking for more attention. “I just need to take some measurements.”
“Have at it.”
I pulled the tape measure off my belt and got to work. It was tough to get around all the existing shelves and clutter, and Puck kept trying to walk under my feet. But I got what I needed, scrawling numbers on my little spiral notepad. When I finished, I tucked my pencil behind my ear and clipped the tape measure back on my belt.
“All done.”
Betty Sue poked her head out of the back. “How’re we looking?”
“I’ll run the numbers and get you a quote.” I glanced around at the room, looking past the shelves to the building itself. “Y’all have some wall damage and loose trim. Since you’re clearing out to get new shelves anyway, you could fix all that, and the loose floorboards. Get Scarlett on in here and she’ll take care of you.”
She smiled. “Much obliged. I’ll do that.”
I tipped my chin to her and left, squinting in the summer sunshine after the relative dimness of the old shop. I needed some new clamps and a package of sandpaper for my sander, so I headed over to the Rusty Tool. Found what I needed—I knew this store like the back of my hand—and went to the front to pay. I hadn’t been gone long, but I wanted to get back to Callie. Didn’t much like leaving her alone in town.
It was only because I was concerned for her safety. Not because I liked being around her so much.
Jimmy Bob Prosser was at the front dressed in a Rusty Tool t-shirt and jeans. The fact that his daughter was the spawn of evil had never made me dislike him. It wasn’t his fault. I di
dn’t know why Misty Lynn was the way she was. Maybe the bad genes had come from her mama. Jimmy Bob had always been a good guy.
“Hey, there, Gibson,” he said. “This all for you?”
“That’ll do it.”
Jenny came in wearing a sundress that made her green eyes stand out. She smiled, first at me, then at Jimmy Bob.
“Well, if it isn’t two of my favorite guys.”
I was one of her favorites? I was the son of the man who’d left her, pregnant and alone, after he’d cheated on my mother. And I looked almost exactly like him. But Jenny had always been nothing but nice to me. Especially since she’d come clean about Callie being alive.
“Hi, Ms. Jenny,” I said.
“Look at you, pretty as summer sunshine,” Jimmy Bob said.
She beamed at him. “Sorry I’m early. I can wait until you’re ready to go to lunch.”
“What time do you have to work?” he asked.
“Not until two.”
Jenny was working with Whit and Clarabell over at Moonshine now. Word in town was that she’d be taking over the diner when they retired.
Jimmy Bob leaned to the side, turning to yell toward the back of the store. “Hey, Carl. Can you come on up here?”
Carl scurried out, his skinny arms so pale it looked like he’d never seen the sun. The crop of red hair on his head stuck out at odd angles, and the only thing that made him look his eighteen years was his height. Kid was tall but still had a baby face. He’d started working for Jimmy Bob last year.
“I need you to work the front while I go to lunch,” Jimmy Bob said.
“Sure thing,” Carl said with a nod.
Jimmy Bob took my cash, gave me some change, and handed me a bag. He looked over at Jenny. “I’ll be right back.”
She smiled again. She was always smiling. “I’ll be right here.”
I put away my wallet and nodded to Jenny. “Ma’am.”
“Oh, don’t ma’am me, Gibs.” She opened her arms. “We’re not strangers. Come here.”
Highball Rush: Bootleg Springs Book 6 Page 13
