Appalachian Prey

by Debbie Herbert

  Lilah flashed a real smile at the waitress and J.D. ambled out the door, pausing at a few tables to shake hands. Ever the politician—an aspect of running for sheriff that Harlan despised. Genuine interest in others was fine, but continual grandstanding was another. But who was he to judge? He’d sacrificed a relationship for the sake of the upcoming election.

  “She’s right,” said Harlan. “You need to eat up. Want a bite of my barbecue sandwich?”

  Lilah shook her head and poured dressing over her salad. “Not really all that hungry anymore.”

  “But—”

  “I know. I’m eating for two.” She dug into her salad with determination.

  “I’ll be with you tonight. You won’t be by yourself at the viewing.”

  “I still have family left,” she pointed out. “I’m not completely alone.”

  “Of course,” he quickly agreed, realizing he’d been put in his place. “I just don’t want you to be out and about without me until we catch this killer.”

  “Let’s get this straight between us right now. I’m only staying with you temporarily. I’m not without resources. We’re just friends.”

  Friends. Ouch.

  She jabbed a tomato with her fork. “And you don’t have the right to tell me what to do. Especially not after the way you broke things off with me. Got it?”

  “Message received loud and clear. Now eat,” he commanded.

  Her face flushed and thunder gathered in her eyes.

  “Um...please?” he mumbled.

  “That’s better.”

  Swiftly, he changed topics. “Spoke with the medical examiner today. Darla’s personal effects at the time of death only included clothes and shoes. No jewelry.”

  “Not even her wedding ring?”

  “No.”

  “Could somebody have killed her just for her wedding ring?”

  “Unlikely. Seems to me as if the killer wanted to disassociate any connection with Darla. It’s personal.”

  “You mean Ed,” she said flatly. “Still not buying it. Aren’t crimes of passion committed in the heat of the moment? My sister was shot in the back in her own yard. No face-to-face spur-of-the-moment killing there. Just like it wasn’t with Dad.”

  “I’m not saying your theory about a drug deal gone bad isn’t possible. But we have no proof that your family’s been involved in that.”

  “What else could it possibly be?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out.” He thought of the failed drug raids. The worm of suspicion still wiggled beneath the surface of his mind. Drug operations gone bad were notoriously bloody, and yet there was nothing to tie the murders to that theory. Still, he couldn’t discount the drug angle.

  But why would anyone stalk Lilah at her apartment? She lived away from Lavender Mountain and had no immediate connection to anyone involved in illegal activities, anymore. Well, she did still have extended family, a couple of uncles and a number of cousins.

  Unless the stalking was an isolated incident. A coincidence.

  Thing is, he didn’t believe in coincidences.

  Chapter Seven

  Lilah hated funeral homes. Hated the cloying scent of lilies, the whispered conversations, the piped organ music and the people stiffly dressed in their Sunday clothes. And she especially hated open caskets for viewing. She kept her face averted from the front of the room where family and friends paid their last respects. Tomorrow, she would go out to Dad’s old cabin, toss daisies into the wind and say her own private goodbyes. Her eyes slid to the clock mounted on the sidewall. A few minutes past the hour. Soon, everyone but Ed and his parents and kids would be gone, and then she could slip out as well.

  Ed’s parents herded the children down the aisle and Lilah rose to say goodbye. A few more people left the room, until it was only she and Harlan in the pew area and Ed speaking with the funeral home director.

  A loud voice erupted from the back corner of the room, and she turned around.

  Uncle Thad and Uncle Jasper were having words—heated words, judging by the flush of color on their cheeks and the tense set of their jaws. Her reclusive Uncle Jasper didn’t get along well with others. Never had. But an argument now was totally inappropriate. She started toward them, motioning Harlan not to follow, but Uncle Thad beat a hasty exit without a backward glance.

  “What was that all about?” she asked Jasper.

  He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbling up and down his scrawny neck. “Sorry for the unseemly behavior,” he said in his reedy formal voice. He pulled at his tie. “How you holding up, LayLay?”

  His use of her childhood nickname nearly undid her. “Making it,” she responded gruffly. “You and Uncle Thad having words?”

  “That’s nothing new. Reason why I prefer to keep to myself. Life’s easier alone.”

  “Don’t you ever get lonely?” She didn’t understand his hermit-like existence. Jasper had never married, had no friends and seemingly no need for much contact with the outside world. He lived alone at the top of Widow’s Peak Mountain in a primitive cabin and kept a garden. His wants seemed few and simple.

  “Lonely?” He rubbed his chin. “Nah, I’m used to solitude.”

  “You’re doing okay?” she asked uncertainly. They’d never been close—Uncle Jasper didn’t allow others to get too close—but his gruff manner had never insulted her. When she’d been a child, he’d once made her a doll fashioned from straw, and she’d appreciated the gesture, even if he’d shoved it in her hands with no comment.

  Gray-blue eyes narrowed on his wrinkled face. “Why? You sayin’ I look unseemly?”

  “No, no,” she said hastily. “It’s just... You’re getting older. I worry something might happen to you all alone up there.”

  “The Good Lord will take me when he sees fit. You’re the one who needs to be careful.” His gaze shifted to Darla’s casket. “Bad things happening all over again.”

  Her heart quickened. “Again?”

  “There’s bad blood in this family, goin’ way back. It’s poisoned all our lives.”

  “What do you mean? That we’ve been unlucky in our share of tragedy?”

  He pinned her with a hard stare. “Doomed.”

  “You’re being superstitious,” she said, ignoring the goose bumps climbing up her arms. Bad enough spending hours in a room with her sister’s body without listening to her uncle’s old-fashioned ideas about family curses. Nervously, she fiddled with the leather bracelet on her left wrist. Its crimson stone glittered like a droplet of blood. “There’s a reason for Dad and Darla’s murders. The police are working on it.”

  “Tedders ain’t got no business cottoning to the police.”

  Jasper had never been in the moonshine business with the rest of the family, but he evidently still shared their contempt of the law.

  “We have to cooperate with them.” She drew a deep, steadying breath. “Do you know if Dad and Uncle Thad might have gotten into something dangerous? Like drugs?”

  “There’s worse things than moonshine and drugs, like a poisoned history. There’s a reason I’m so scarred and a hermit. A reason yer dad was an alcoholic and Thad so...controlling. Go away. Move away from the mountain and never come back.”

  “Not until I find out who’s responsible for all this.” She owed her family that much. And if someone was after her, she had to discover the killer to save her baby.

  He nodded his head at something over her shoulder. “That there yer fella?”

  She glanced back to find Harlan ambling his way toward them.

  “He’s a friend. Now, tell me, what were you and Uncle Thad arguing about?” she asked once more, hoping he’d open up before Harlan arrived at her side.

  “Don’t never be alone with Thaddeus,” he warned, his lowered voice urgent and intense. “He’s dangerous. He and that bo
y of his, Lavon, ain’t to be trusted.”

  Dangerous? Uncle Thad was a staple in her life. Warm, kind and always generous when money had been short growing up. “Lavon’s a bully, but Uncle Thad’s no danger. What are you implying?”

  But Jasper clamped his thin lips together and stared mutinously at Harlan who’d stepped up beside her.

  “Evening, Jasper,” Harlan said, holding out his hand.

  Uncle Jasper pointedly ignored the proffered handshake. Harlan shrugged and dropped his arm.

  Without a word, Jasper turned his back and headed to the door.

  “Wait,” she called after him. “I’d like to come visit if that’s okay. We need to talk more.”

  Jasper didn’t bother facing them as he answered. “I’ve said all I have to say on the matter.”

  “Charming as usual,” Harlan commented drily. “What’s going on?”

  She shook her head. “He gets stranger every year. Kept going on about our family being doomed and poisoned.”

  “Anything else?”

  Lilah hesitated. It felt disloyal to repeat what he’d said about Uncle Thad and Lavon. “That’s mostly everything. I need to pay him a visit.”

  “No. You need to stay put at my house until we’ve uncovered who’s responsible for the murders.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. It’s too dangerous. If you won’t think of yourself, think of your baby.”

  His words vibrated warm and deep in her core. Even though she’d told him it wasn’t his, Harlan still cared about her unborn child. If she wasn’t careful, she could lose her heart to him all over again. Lilah lifted her chin.

  “I am thinking of the baby. We need to solve these crimes. Fast.”

  “No. I need to solve them. You stay out of it. I’m working on it. Trust me.” He guided her by the elbow toward the door. “Let’s talk about it outside. We’ll catch Ed when he’s finished his business with the funeral home.”

  She pushed through the large wooden door. “Sounds to me like the sheriff’s office is only out to railroad poor Ed. As for Dad, you’ve suggested it’s probably nothing more than a riled customer or someone he fought with in a bar.”

  “We’re looking at the possible drug angle as well,” he said defensively. “Although, every lead seems to turn into a dead end.”

  Lilah slipped out the door into the night’s darkness. A full moon shone, lime green and mysterious. She inhaled the fresh air and hugged her arms over her chest. “I hope you didn’t come with me tonight just to try and corner Ed after the visitation and question him about dealing drugs. He’s been through the wringer the past few days. Leave him be.”

  Harlan shook his head. “The man gets a pass tonight. I’m not heartless.”

  Heartless Harlan. Lilah felt a sad smile tug the edges of her mouth. After what he’d put her through these past few weeks, she’d say the moniker fit. But what he lacked in heart, he made up for with his dogged determination to do the right thing. She would give him that much. Another woman might be satisfied with those crumbs, but she wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

  “Speaking of being through the wringer, you look pale. You sure you’re okay?” he asked, frowning down at her.

  “I won’t lie, it’s been tough,” she admitted. “What happened to Dad was horrible, but he was living his last days, dying from cirrhosis. But Darla is...” She stumbled on the words. “Darla was only a few years older than me. And she has left behind three small children.”

  “I’m going to get to the bottom of this.” His voice was gentle but laced with steel. “I promise you that.”

  A whoosh of stale air, and Ed emerged from the funeral home, shoulders sagging and head down.

  “Need a lift home?” Harlan asked.

  Ed jerked his head up. “What?” He swiped at his cheeks and coughed. “Oh, no. Thanks. I’m fine.”

  Lilah’s heart pinched at the sight of his grief. She embraced him in a quick hug, but not so brief that she didn’t catch the sharp, sour scent of liquor on his breath. Her worry increased. A few drinks to get through this horrid week was one thing, but if this led to an addiction, she feared for her nephews. Those kids needed him sober.

  “So sorry, Ed,” she said past the catch in her throat.

  Harlan’s mouth tightened. “You been drinking, by any chance? If so, I’m going to have to insist on driving you home.”

  “Just a couple before visitation started,” he protested, running a hand through his long thick hair. “Unfortunately, the buzz has entirely worn off.”

  “Walk a straight line for me.”

  Ed rolled his eyes but obeyed. His large body didn’t sway in the least. He walked back to them and then lifted his right knee and balanced easily. “There. I know the cop’s whole repertoire. You want to take me to the station and make me take a Breathalyzer test, go ahead.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  Lilah shot Harlan a dark look before turning to Ed. “This might not be the right time to bring this up, but I wanted you to know...” She hesitated. How to bring this up delicately? “If you need any help with funeral expenses, I talked to Jimmy and we’ll both chip in what we can.”

  Ed stuck his hands in his pockets. “That’s awful generous, ’specially considering the way we helped ourselves to the money you found in your dad’s cabin.”

  “Forget about it,” she said hastily. If only she could erase the memory of her last talk—no argument, call it what it really was—with her sister over the damned money. That was something she’d have to live with the rest of her life.

  “That money will more than cover the burial costs. I returned the new truck and cancelled the kitchen makeover.”

  What a relief her brother-in-law had a sensible head on his shoulders after all. “That sounds like a good plan. Still, I’m here. If you need help with the kids, well, with anything, let me know.”

  “Did you ever find Darla’s wedding ring?” Harlan asked suddenly.

  Again, she shot him a warning look. “Really, now’s not the time for you—”

  “No. Never did,” Ed interrupted. “I searched everywhere, too.” His sad brown eyes sought hers. “Couldn’t even find that new stuff you discovered at your dad’s, Lilah. Hope they weren’t some kind of family heirlooms.”

  “Was she wearing the found pieces last time you saw her?” Harlan asked.

  The man couldn’t seem to help himself when it came to asking questions. She frowned at him.

  Ed’s brow furrowed. “Might have been. Can’t rightly recall.”

  “It’s no big deal,” she assured Ed. “Don’t you give it another thought. They weren’t valuable, and none of us knew where they came from.” She held up her right wrist. “And I have this. Darla insisted I keep one of the pieces.”

  “Good.” He shuffled his feet and stole a glance at Harlan. “Guess I’ll be moseying on home now, if you don’t mind. I’m beat.”

  “You be careful,” she said softly, awkwardly patting his shoulder.

  They watched as he climbed into his old truck and drove off.

  “Maybe you should tell me more about this jewelry,” Harlan said slowly.

  She cocked her head to the side. “Like I told Ed, they weren’t valuable at all. Just costume jewelry.”

  “Humor me.”

  “This bracelet, a cameo ring and a glass beaded necklace.”

  He took her hand in his and examined the bracelet. The red stone glittered under the moonbeams.

  “Told you. Nothing special.”

  He didn’t speak anymore as they got in his cruiser and drove the twisted roads up Lavender Mountain to his place. Lilah laid her head against the cool pane of glass on the passenger side, mind swimming with images of the people who’d come to say their last goodbyes to Darla.

  Let this be the end. No more deaths. N
o more gut-wrenching phone calls, funerals or heartache.

  At Harlan’s, they silently entered and switched on the lights. What she needed was a nice long shower. In his bathroom, she stripped and stepped into the shower’s hot spray. She reached for the shelf that held soap and shampoo and discovered a familiar bottle of pink gardenia bath gel. Her fingers curled around it as a silly grin split her face. Her shower gel that she’d left there in March.

  Why hadn’t Harlan thrown it away? Had he hoped she would return one day? Maybe she was reading too much into it, but the possibility lifted her heart for a moment.

  Cleaned and refreshed, Lilah went to bed and slipped under the fresh sheets, waiting on the welcome absolution of sleep.

  * * *

  HER LEGS TWISTED in the bedsheets and she fought for air. Something deep, dark and heavy pressed on her chest as an unknown menace approached that was familiar but suddenly ominous. It slithered toward her paralyzed body, coiled to strike.

  “Lilah, Lilah. Baby, you’re safe. I’m here.”

  Her cramped lungs released and she sucked in oxygen. Harlan’s hand splayed over her left breast, calming her pounding heart.

  “Shh,” he murmured. “Go back to sleep.”

  She sighed and took comfort in his body stretched out behind her. Despite everything, despite her anger and hurt and her best intentions to keep her pride intact...in the night, Harlan was the one she reached for, the man she wanted beside her. She rubbed her face against the hard muscled biceps wrapped around her. Tonight, she wouldn’t fight it. Lilah closed her eyes and sank into dreamless oblivion.

  Chapter Eight

  “I need the file on the old Hilltop Strangler case,” Harlan said.

  Zelda, a middle-aged administrative staple in the sheriff’s office, and near as powerful as J.D., looked up from the payroll spreadsheet numbers she’d been inputting on the computer. She lowered her tortoiseshell bifocals and stared. “That so? Nobody’s looked at that in ages. Not that I know of, anyway.”

  “Doesn’t hurt to take a peek at it occasionally,” he said noncommittally. No need to get folks stirred up on a wild-goose chase. This quick glance was only a way to satisfy his overactive imagination.