by Diana Palmer
It was the custom in small towns, bringing food for the family when there was a death. It was a way of showing sympathy. This way, the bereaved wouldn’t have to prepare meals while they were going back and forth to the funeral home. Of course, there was only Grace in the family locally. But that didn’t stop people from bringing food. Barbara, who owned the local café, brought meats and vegetables. Two sheriff’s deputies and their wives came along with cakes and pies. The Ballenger brothers sent two of their sons along with homemade bread, and Leo Hart’s wife Tess brought a Crock-Pot full of chicken and dumplings. It fascinated her that some of the town’s leading lights thought so much of old Mrs. Collier, and she mentioned it to Barbara.
“Don’t be silly,” she chuckled. “It’s you they’re fond of, Grace,” she added. “You used to baby-sit Calhoun Ballenger’s kids, something Abby’s never forgotten, and you helped Tess Hart with her rose garden. You should remember that you’ve always been one of the first to take food to other families, and none of the new rich families in town are snobs—unlike some of the older monied generation.”
“I suppose so,” Grace replied with a smile. She’d noticed that Mrs. Tabor, a leading light of the old money crowd, had actually sent a tray of finger foods, although she didn’t mix much with common people. Her niece, who worked at Andy Webb’s realty company, had already made a reputation as the worst of the local wild women. In fact, it was she who brought the tray.
“Thank you,” Grace had told her, uneasy at the older woman’s piercing scrutiny as she put the food on the dining room table alongside all the other platters.
“I just wanted a look at you,” the woman chided. She was wearing jeans that must have been sprayed on, with a deeply low cut red blouse and sweater. She gave Grace’s loose jeans and pink sweatshirt a mocking glance. “Well, it can’t be your looks that fascinate Garon. I wondered why he’d be helping you out. I suppose it really is a case of just being neighborly.” She laughed coldly. “I can’t believe I was worried about the competition,” she added carelessly, and walked out without another word.
Grace stared after her, speechless. She couldn’t imagine her taciturn neighbor being interested in herself, of course, but she could see why he might go after Mrs. Tabor’s niece. Oddly the thought hurt. Garon had never mentioned the flashy woman. Was he seeing her? She shouldn’t care. She couldn’t care. But it hurt to think of him with someone like that, who was self-centered and cruel. It seemed to Grace, without knowing why, that life had been cruel enough to Garon already.
* * *
SHE INVITED MISS TURNER and Garon over to eat with her that evening before they went to the funeral home. They protested, but she reasoned with them that she wasn’t going to be able to eat it all herself. It would only go to waste.
She had paper plates and napkins ready when they drove up. It was a short, silent meal, but very enjoyable. Jacobsville boasted some of the best cooks in the county. There were homemade rolls, spice breads, baked ham and broiled chicken and all sorts of salads and side dishes.
“I know who made this chocolate cake,” Miss Turner murmured with a smile as she savored her slice. “Barbara did this.”
Grace laughed. “It’s the only thing she can cook,” she confided.
“Well, it’s a good thing she doesn’t have to depend on her skills to keep the café afloat, I suppose,” came the reply. “Although she could certainly fill the tables with people eating chocolate cake. This is wonderful.”
“I’ll pack some for you to take home, when we get back from the funeral home,” Grace said. “I hate to waste food.”
“So do I,” Miss Turner agreed.
“Mrs. Tabor’s niece brought the snack platter,” Grace told Miss Turner without looking at Garon.
Miss Turner didn’t say anything, but her glance was eloquent.
Garon heard the comment. It surprised him. He hadn’t spoken to the woman since she’d turned up in his driveway. He’d better call her about that party she’d invited him to, he supposed. She wasn’t bad looking, and he was feeling his job lately.
He didn’t say it aloud, but his face mirrored it. He and his task force had spent the morning looking over crime scene photos. He couldn’t get them out of his mind. No homicides were pleasant to look at, but those with children were particularly disturbing.
“You’re very quiet,” Miss Turner remarked when Garon was pushing apple pie around on a saucer and sipping coffee.
“It was a long day,” he said, without elaborating.
But Grace recalled that he’d been working on a task force, and she knew what it was about. She glanced at his set features with sympathy.
“You really don’t have to go with us tonight,” Grace began.
He looked up. “I don’t mind.”
“There will be a lot of people there,” she continued without looking at him. “There might be some gossip…”
“I’m not worried about it,” he said nonchalantly. He checked his watch. “We need to get moving pretty soon.”
Grace got up. “I’ll cover everything, and put the food in the refrigerator.”
“I’ll help,” Miss Turner volunteered.
* * *
GRACE HAD KNOWN it would be an ordeal, but it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. Mrs. Collier was in a purple dress, her favorite church dress, and she looked very peaceful. Tears prickled at Grace’s eyes and she dabbed them with a handkerchief. It would be lonely without the old lady, even with her constant criticism.
Grace’s cousin, Bob Collier, came in a wheelchair, pushed by Tina, his caregiver. Tina was Miss Turner’s age, dark haired and eyed, with a thick Spanish accent. She took good care of the elderly gentleman, and she was fond of Grace, as well.
Tina hugged her warmly. “You come see your cousin sometimes, huh?” she invited. “He gets lonely.”
“I will.” Grace bent and hugged Bob, who was dark-eyed with silver hair.
He chuckled. “You get prettier every year, girl,” he teased. The smile faded. “I’m sorry about your grandmother. She and I didn’t get along, but she was still family.”
“That’s what I always thought.”
“Who’s the man in the gray suit?” he added, nodding toward Garon.
“My next door neighbor,” she said. “He’s been very kind. So has his housekeeper, Miss Turner. She’s standing next to him.”
“You’re lucky to have someone close to you,” he said. “Tina and I are miles off the road. It gets lonely.”
“I’ll visit you more. I promise,” she said gently.
He held her hand between both of his. “Had a hard life, haven’t you, girl? You’re due a little happiness. Maybe it’s standing over there in a gray suit, huh?”
She laughed and flushed. “It’s not like that. He’s in law enforcement.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Grace, have you been doing something illegal?” he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.
She laughed again. “I wouldn’t know how.”
Garon was watching her with the old man in the wheelchair. She had a caring nature, a nurturing personality that made him uncomfortable. He knew the old man was curious about his place in Grace’s life. He was sure she’d tell him the truth. He wasn’t interested in a relationship with his neighbor. He’d have to find a way to get that across, but not tonight. Grace needed a little support, to get her through this bad time.
Cash Grier, Jacobsville’s police chief, walked into the funeral home and stopped to extend his sympathy to Grace. He noted his brother near the casket and joined him.
“I thought you didn’t go to funerals,” he mused.
Garon shrugged. “She was all alone. Miss Turner and I have been looking out for her.”
“Uh-huh.”
Garon glared at him. “I’m not in the market for a frumpy girlfriend.”
Cash’s smile faded and he gave his brother a hard glare. “That was uncalled for. Grace doesn’t have the sort of money she’d need to dress for every occa
sion.”
Garon shifted his weight, his eyes going reluctantly to Grace’s trim figure in the slightly too large black dress she was wearing. It did nothing for her and looked as if it had come from a yard sale.
“You’d think the old lady could have afforded one good dress for her,” Garon muttered.
Cash frowned. “You haven’t got a clue, have you?” he asked. “Mrs. Collier had several prescriptions that she was required to take. She and Grace had to choose between medicine and food, never mind dressy clothing. I’d lay odds that dress is one of the old lady’s. Until tonight, I’ve never even seen Grace Carver in a dress.”
“You’re kidding,” Garon returned.
“I’m not,” his brother said firmly. “Old people in this town sometimes do without groceries to pay drug bills. Health care is expensive. People living on social security don’t have a lot of options. Grace worked two part-time jobs to help pay for the old lady’s medicines. She may be poor, but she’s proud.”
Garon averted his eyes. “Now that the old woman’s gone, maybe she can get a good paying job, or go back to school and finish her education.”
Cash studied the other man quietly. “Not all women have a yen to start international corporations,” he pointed out.
Garon had to admit that Cash was right. He couldn’t see Grace in a power suit throwing out orders to a cadre of underlings.
“What’s eating you?” Cash persisted, because the man he was beginning to know wasn’t petty or critical.
Garon’s mouth pulled down. “We’re investigating a homicide. A ten-year-old girl.”
“Ah. That one.” Cash shifted his weight. “We’ve heard about the case, even down here. Brutal.”
“Very. And it looks as if it might not be the only one,” he added with a quick glance. “That’s between you and me.”
“Of course. Any leads?”
Garon shook his head. “It’s early days.”
“Some cases are harder than others to work,” his brother agreed.
Garon was watching as Grace spoke to citizens who came by to offer their condolences. She was friendly, warm, welcoming, grateful. She was completely natural. He knew she must be cut up inside, but she wasn’t letting it show.
“Do you know what happened to her mother?” Garon asked Cash.
He shook his head. “Only that she died some years ago, when Grace was still a child. The old lady had a vinegary personality, but she was respected around town. Her late husband had been a deputy sheriff. So was Grace’s father, for a short time.”
“That’s what I heard.”
“I suppose you know that being seen with Grace is going to start rumors flying,” Cash pointed out.
“She said that,” he replied. “The rumors will wind down when this is all over.”
“You don’t date at all, do you?” Cash asked.
“I’ve been asked to a cocktail party next Friday at the Tabors’, by the niece. Grace said she brought food to the house this afternoon for the funeral.”
Cash whistled through his pursed lips.
“What?” Garon asked.
Cash gave him a speaking glance. “Mrs. Tabor’s niece is raising eyebrows locally, and she isn’t well liked.”
“Most of the founding families have been invited to the party, from what I’ve been told,” Garon said defensively.
“Most of them have also sent their regrets,” Cash interjected, “most prominently the Ballengers, the Harts and the Tremaynes. Without them, nobody else is going to show up, either.”
“What have they got against the niece?” he wanted to know.
“Have you met her?” Cash murmured dryly.
“Sure. She came to the ranch and invited me to the party.”
“Anything about her strike you as unusual?”
Garon thought for a minute. “She’s rather forward, and she dresses in a seductive fashion.”
“Exactly. And how well do you think that behavior is going to go over in a small conservative town?”
“She’s out of place here,” Garon said. “But so am I. I hate small town politics.”
Cash smiled. “I love it, warts and all. It’s the first place I’ve ever belonged.”
“Your wife seems to like it here, too.”
He nodded. “The baby has opened even more doors for us, locally,” he said, smiling dreamily. “I never thought I’d end up a family man.”
Garon took a step away. “I hope it’s not contagious,” he muttered darkly. “I’m married to my job.”
“Where have I heard that before?” Cash wondered.
The Coltrains walked in with their son, Joshua. His father was carrying him, although he looked to be about two years old. Copper was tall and redheaded. His wife, Lou, was blond. Their little boy had blond hair with red lights, and he favored his father most.
They made a beeline for Grace. Lou hugged her warmly. So did Copper.
“What is it with Miss Carver and the Coltrains?” Garon asked curiously. “He takes an unusual interest in her well-being, although he seems to be in love with his wife.”
“Copper has a special place for his long-time patients,” Cash said. “I’ve heard that Grace was one of the first people who went to him when he opened his practice here. She was just a kid at the time.”
“Oh.”
“Do you automatically put the worst possible interpretation on people’s relationships?” Cash asked.
“I work in law enforcement.”
“So do I,” Cash reminded him, “but I try to give people the benefit of the doubt.”
“Yes, I remember you giving it to our stepmother.”
Cash closed up and his eyes glittered dangerously.
Garon let out a long breath. “Hell, I didn’t mean that.” He averted his face. “The little girl was ten. She was raped and sodomized and cut to pieces. Ten years old!”
Cash laid a big hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Listen, I’ve seen my share of grisly murders, in the military and in police work. I know what it’s like. But you have to keep some emotional distance. You know that.”
Garon swallowed, hard. He had a history that he’d never shared with his family. He’d lived away from them back East for years, during which they’d all but lost touch. He was keeping secrets that were too painful to share, even now. The child’s death had affected him in unexpected ways, and he wasn’t coping well.
“I’ve never had to work a child killing before,” Garon said shortly. “I’ve done hostage rescue and SWAT, I’ve even worked a serial murder. But I’ve never had to work a crime scene where a child was literally butchered. I wasn’t prepared.”
“Nobody’s ever prepared,” Cash replied. “I worked in covert areas for years. Some of the things I had to do involved children.”
Garon glanced at him. “Children carrying AK-47s, if memory serves.”
“Yeah,” Cash replied. “That didn’t make it any easier to pull the trigger.”
“At least it was a clean kill. This is messy. It’s messy and deliberate and depraved,” he said harshly. “I don’t like sharing the planet with a human being who could do something like that to a little girl.”
“So catch him and make sure he gets Death Row,” Cash replied.
Garon glanced at his brother and managed a smile. “You’re an optimist. We don’t even have a suspect yet.”
“Ask enough people, and somebody will have seen something,” came the reply. “I guarantee it.”
Garon nodded. He stared at Grace without actually seeing her. “Thanks,” he said curtly.
“What are brothers for?” Cash chuckled.
* * *
THE WAKE was only two hours, but Grace felt exhausted, physically and emotionally, when it was all over. She climbed into the car with Garon and Miss Turner without a word.
She went into her house to fix the cake and some of the food for Garon to take home with him while Miss Turner waited in the car.
“I really appreciate yo
u and Miss Turner going with me tonight,” she said in a subdued tone. “I didn’t realize how lonely it would be.”
“Lonely?” he murmured, watching her put food in sealed plastic containers. “Half the town was there.”
She turned, staring at him. “You can be alone in a city.”
“I suppose so. Save some of that for yourself,” he told her.
“I’ll still have plenty. I’ll freeze what I don’t eat right away.”
“Don’t bother with that apple pie,” he stopped her when she began to unwrap it.
“But you like apple cake,” she replied, perplexed.
“I like your apple cake,” he corrected.
She flushed and laughed a little nervously. “Oh. Thanks.”
“Compliments embarrass you,” he noted.
She shrugged. “I’m not used to them.”
But she should have been, he thought, watching her. From what he’d heard, she was a good little cook. And she seemed never to get tired of listening to other people talk. So few people could listen.
She put the plastic containers in a big plastic bag and handed them to him. “Thanks again,” she said shyly.
“Thank you.” He hesitated. “What time is the funeral tomorrow?”
“It’s at eleven,” she said. “But please don’t feel obliged to—”
“I can’t make it,” he interrupted. “I have to help interview neighbors around the child’s home. I’m sorry.”
“You’ve done so much already,” she began.
“Miss Turner will go with you,” he continued. He held up a hand. “She volunteered.”
“All right, then. Thank her for me.”
He nodded. “She’ll pick you up a few minutes past ten in the morning.”
“All right.”
She looked sad and lonely and lost. Impulsively he reached out and touched a lock of her blond hair that had escaped from its bun. She caught her breath and moved back a step instinctively.
That irritated him. His dark eyes flashed. “Good night, then,” he said curtly, took the bag and turned to leave.
She bit her lower lip almost through. He was being kind, but she couldn’t help her own reactions.
He paused at the front door. “Keep this locked,” he told her as he opened it. “Even out here in the country, there are dangerous people.”
