I scrambled up the hillside. A quarter of the way to the top, the rise became too steep and I had to move laterally. I found a trench where two sections of earth came together in a V and resumed my upward climb. I grabbed handfuls of scrub brush to propel myself forward.
Near the top I glanced back. The fog had thinned as I climbed, so I had no trouble seeing Junior right behind me. A red stain marred his shirt where I’d stabbed him with the key, but that hardly slowed his progress.
I reached the top and kept moving just to stay ahead. I plowed forward despite that the brush reached nearly to my waist. I wasn’t far from the house and instinctively ran in that direction. I hoped there’d be safety in other people, even if they all worked for the man chasing me.
As I ran, I held the phone up waiting for a signal. I must have slowed to look at the screen. I heard Junior at the last moment. He jumped on me like a junior-varsity high school football player—graceless, hard, and desperate to prove himself. We both fell into the brush, but he had the advantage of being on top.
Junior drew his fist back, deciding this time to hit me with a punch instead of a slap. At the last moment I kicked up with my knee and knocked him off course. His fist hit the ground next to my head. A rock must have been there because Junior howled in pain.
I kicked him hard in the gut to free myself, then rushed to find the phone in the weeds. Already his cries were drawing people. I heard a noise alerting me to a text message and leapt toward the sound. I found the phone and accessed the two video files.
“Wait,” Junior yelled. He slouched, clutching his wrist in agony. “What do you want? Money? A job? Just say what you want.”
In my peripheral vision, guards approached with their Tasers out. “What I want is to send the video.”
“If you do that, your uncle will be exposed as a murderer.”
I paused and looked up.
The morning sun cast Junior in a beautiful golden light. Surrounded as he was by fallow winter grasses, the entire scene might have looked pastoral, except for what lay behind him. The fog below us was still thick enough to obscure the uglier aspects of the view, but I knew the oil field was there.
I prepared to send the e-mail. “You’re lying.”
“No, he’s not.”
For a moment I was so shocked that I didn’t move. Then I spun around to find the source of the voice.
Rod sucked in quick breaths from running. “I don’t know exactly what video you have, but don’t send it until we’ve had a chance to talk.” All at once he drew back in alarm. “What happened to you?”
“What happened to me?” I ran to him, the video momentarily forgotten. “What happened to you? I thought someone kidnapped you or worse.”
I threw my arms around him, but he pulled back to look at my face. “How did you get this horrible cut? It’s bleeding. You’re going to need stitches.”
I pointed at Junior. “Leland Phillip Warner, the second.”
Rod stiffened, then rushed toward him.
“No. No, it’s okay.” I ran after Rod and grabbed his arm. “You can’t beat him up. His hand is broken. It’s not a fair fight.”
This was probably the only argument that could have stopped Rod. Fortunately it succeeded. I say fortunately not because I cared if Junior was further injured, but because the security guards looked ready to use those Tasers if Rod had continued.
“Why don’t we go inside and discuss this.” Erabelle’s petite form climbed through the field toward us. She wore the same clothes as at Zingo’s, but the morning’s soft light made her look both younger and fresher than at the truck stop.
I gestured to the guards. “If I decline the invitation, am I going to get tased?”
She waved them off. “Go back to your posts. This lady is our guest.”
They looked at Junior for confirmation. Apparently Frank’s male bias had been passed down through the ranks.
After a moment Junior nodded. “Go back to your posts.”
One of the guards hesitated. “Sir, are you injured?”
Instead of being grateful to the only individual who cared about his well-being, Junior got angry at the guard. “I said get back to your post.”
Once they’d retreated out of earshot, Erabelle walked to Rod’s side. “Frank called. Lilly has video of the body. You’re going to have to tell her the truth.”
“That’s right,” Junior sneered. “Tell her that her uncle is a murderer.”
There was a long pause. Rod and Erabelle exchanged a glance, but neither looked at me.
“Rod?” I said quietly.
“Gone mute, have you?” Junior wiped some of the sweat from his forehead with his good arm. “Where’s all that macho courage now?”
Rod stepped toward him. “I’m starting not to care if it’s a fair fight.”
Erabelle intercepted him. “This is stupid and it’s getting us nowhere.”
While this went on, I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. I’d been saying all night that I could learn the worst about Bud and it wouldn’t change how I felt. Now the moment was really here. I turned it over and looked inside the ugly truth.
Bud had committed a murder. Bud was responsible for taking another human’s life. Bud hadn’t meant it to happen. Bud would be sorry. Bud would have a good reason. Bud loved me.
I looked at Erabelle. She probably expected me to ask about Bud, but instead I said, “Is Frank okay?”
“Just a little wet.” Erabelle tried to smile, but couldn’t pull it off. “I told him to find your car and bring it here.” She turned and started toward the house. “Come inside. We’re probably all going to get Lyme disease from the ticks out here.”
Rod put his arm around me and we followed.
“What are you doing here with them?” I said.
“I’m keeping a promise to Bud.”
“A promise you couldn’t tell me about?”
He didn’t say anything, so I called ahead to Erabelle, “I want to see Warner.”
She glanced back. “I don’t think the nurses will allow it.”
Junior tried to assert himself, despite trailing behind as the wounded gazelle of our pack. “Never mind the nurses. I won’t allow it.”
“It wasn’t a request. I’m hearing the truth from Leland Warner or I’m sending the video to KJAY.” I looked at Rod. “I want you there too. It’s time I heard the truth from both of you.”
Junior continued to argue with me, but it was only for show. With Rod and Erabelle there, he couldn’t use physical force to take the phone. Without that threat he had no leverage.
Once inside the house we had to do battle with the nurses. We were losing until I heard Warner himself bellowing that he’d see us even if it meant getting out of bed. They relented, but demanded some time to prepare him.
We all retreated to what someone called the upstairs sitting room to drink coffee—yes, I felt that lousy—and hold ice packs to our injuries. Soon there was a knock on the door, but it wasn’t a nurse.
Frank entered looking damp and annoyed. Given his talent for hiding menace behind an affable façade, I assumed his looking annoyed was akin to another person’s being in a blind rage.
“Sorry I pushed you.” I was a little afraid of him and hoped apologizing might prevent a future retaliation.
He smiled. “Was it something I said?”
Erabelle poured Frank a mug of coffee, but didn’t invite him to sit. “Why don’t you change into a fresh uniform? Then I believe you’ll be needed to drive my nephew to get an X-ray of his hand.”
All eyes turned to Junior. “Perhaps after we’ve spoken with Dad.”
Frank took the coffee and started to exit.
On his way out, Erabelle stopped him. “Did you take care of everything at the King farm?”
Frank glanced at me, debating how much to say.
Junior cut in, “We can speak freely in front of Lilly now. She’s in this as much as we are. More, since her uncle is the one who killed th
at man.”
Even though I’d accepted this as probably true, I still felt defensive. “Then why exactly were you the one disposing of the body?”
“I was protecting my father. He helped cover up the murder and could still be charged as an accessory after the fact.”
Junior’s candor clearly went against Frank’s instincts, but he was used to following orders. “The body is gone for good. Even if the Kings change their minds and decide to make trouble, there won’t be any proof.”
Erabelle nodded. “And the jewelry?”
Junior spoke for Frank. “The gold brooch was sold to a pawnshop and is already lost, but we can still get the diamond star back. I made a deal with the grandson. We’ll have it later today.”
As soon as Frank left, I said, “Things would have been much easier if you’d been honest with me yesterday.”
This prompted sneers from Junior and declarations of ignorance from Erabelle. The way they told it, neither had known anything when I’d first come to the house. Not until I’d called and mentioned Mida and Carter King had Junior got worried.
He’d assumed the monthly payout, which he’d stopped, was an act of charity to an old family friend. Once I told him about the robbery, he wondered if it was blackmail. He and Erabelle confronted Warner. Leland, to no one’s surprise, had refused to discuss it.
Then Rod had called on instructions from Bud and changed everything. The news that Erabelle’s brooch had been pawned frightened Warner into being honest. Everyone, including Rod, had agreed that swift action was needed to destroy the body and pay off the Kings. Otherwise the murder might be exposed.
We were interrupted at this point by another knock on the door. Warner was ready to see us. I started to follow Rod and Junior out into the hallway.
Erabelle stayed sitting.
“Aren’t you coming?” I said.
“No.” She began picking up mugs and placing them on a silver tray. “I’m never going to see my brother again.”
“You made it clear yesterday that you didn’t like him. Why take a stand now?”
“Certain facts came to light last night.” She gestured in the direction of Leland’s room. “You’ll hear for yourself.”
I caught up with Rod and Junior in the hallway.
The nurse stood holding the doorknob. “He’s weak and shouldn’t have too much stimulation. Don’t discuss anything controversial or alarming.”
I smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Christmas Day, 10:31 a.m.
The nurse shut the door behind us. Unfortunately the second nurse remained in the bedroom.
Leland Warner ran his eyes over our bruised and bloody trio. “I take it things did not go well.”
I walked to the edge of the bed. “We need to speak privately.”
“What on earth happened to your face? You need stitches.” He pointed to the nurse. “Get an ice pack for her immediately.”
Rod stepped to the other side of the bed. “Your son and that henchman tried to kill her. Considering she’s the main reason Bud wanted this mess kept secret, I don’t think he would have approved.”
Warner turned to the nurse. “Never mind about the ice pack. Just get out.”
“But, sir, the doctor—”
“Get out,” he roared.
She obeyed. Warner took a moment to calm his breathing.
Junior took advantage to try to tell his side of the story. “She recorded video of me with the body. What was I supposed to do? Let her put it on TV?”
Rod looked ready to fight again. “There were other ways to handle it.”
“The thing is, I got a good look at his expression just before he did this to my face. Your son enjoyed it.” I stayed looking at Warner, but hooked my thumb back toward Junior. “How many of his ex-girlfriends have you had to pay off to keep them from pressing charges?”
I could tell by Warner’s expression and Junior’s sudden silence that I’d guessed correctly about his history of violence.
Warner looked past me to his son. “You’re bleeding. Go get some medical attention. I’ll handle this.”
“She still has the video. I’m not leaving until I know it’s been erased.”
Warner didn’t raise his voice, but maybe real power means you don’t have to. “Don’t talk back to me. I’ll handle it.”
Junior walked toward the door. “Remember, I was out there cleaning up your mess.”
Warner waited until his son was gone and the door had closed. “Do you still have this video you shot of my son?”
I nodded.
“Is it very incriminating?”
“Yes.”
“Destroy it.”
“I want the truth first.” I looked from him to Rod. “Was that Carter King’s body and did Bud kill him?”
Warner paused to suck some oxygen through the tube in his nose. “Yes to both.”
I waited for Rod’s answer.
“Yes.”
Maybe I don’t have the best judgment when it comes to reading people, but they both looked genuine to me. “Then who shot Bud yesterday?”
Warner shook his head. “I have no idea.”
Rod also shook his head. “He was conscious when I found him, but he didn’t say anything about his attacker.”
My voice rose. “How exactly did he forget to mention that?”
“He was hurt. Bud drifted in and out of consciousness and didn’t always make sense.” Rod paused to rein in the emotion that threatened to overtake him. “But he knew someone had dug up the jewelry and was terrified Carter King’s body would be discovered. He made me promise you wouldn’t find out what he’d done.”
“I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to break that promise and tell me.”
Warner got testy. “We already told you the truth what—”
I cut him off. “You told me Bud killed him. I want to know the how and the why.”
Warner looked at Rod.
Rod steeled himself. “They were both drinking. They argued. Bud went too far.”
A piece of my heart broke. Not because Bud had got drunk and killed a man, but because Rod was lying. Under different circumstances I might have celebrated my being able to tell, but at this moment when I’d been able to truly know him, we’d never been further apart.
I suddenly felt too tired to keep standing and sat in one of the wingback chairs by the bed. “Then why the secrecy?”
“He killed a man with his bare hands.” The disgust was evident in Warner’s voice, despite his labored delivery. “There are no extenuating circumstances for that. At least not in the eyes of the law.”
His tone made me feel defensive, even if what he said was true. “What did Bud and Carter argue about?”
Warner shrugged. “Something trivial, I’m sure.”
“You weren’t there?”
“Mida King called us for help after it happened. She was sympathetic to Bud and didn’t want him going to jail. He was a veteran and a firefighter. Not to mention that your father, whom she cared for very much, would have lost his only living relative.”
I didn’t buy it. “Was she setting you up for blackmail? How much money have you given her over the years?”
Warner’s heart-rate monitor rose. “It wasn’t like that. Our mothers were close and Mida was almost family.”
“Just not the kind of family you invite to Thanksgiving or tell anyone about.”
“Her parents and brother were dead. She was all alone and I promised I’d take care of her.”
This actually gelled with Mida’s calling him Cousin Leland. I wondered if they’d each cloaked what was basically a quid pro quo—in exchange for a check every month, Mida let them bury Carter’s body at the farmhouse and lied to the police—in the veils of family and friendship. Maybe they each needed to do that for his or her own self-respect.
But even with those self-deluding veils, I was surprised Mida had been so mercenary as to sell out her brother’s m
emory. Carter had been branded a thief for stealing the jewelry.
Which brought me to my next question. “Why is Erabelle not speaking to you?”
“That’s between the two of us.”
“Did you stand over Carter King’s body and tell Bud you’d help for a price? Did you make Bud promise never to see her again?”
“If you mean, did I protect my sister, then yes.” The heart-rate monitor rose again. “Would you want your sister married to someone who’d just killed a man—and that’s leaving out how unsuitable he was to begin with?”
“No, I wouldn’t, and I can actually excuse you for that. Maybe Erabelle could too, but I don’t think she can excuse the jewelry.”
Warner didn’t flinch or take his eyes away, but all the same, something in his expression looked guilty. “We needed a credible way to explain Carter’s disappearance. The theft of the jewelry did the job perfectly.”
Rod eyed the medical equipment. “Let’s try to take everything down a few notches. Remember what the nurses said.”
I ignored him. “You could have pretended Carter stole something that belonged to you. Instead you stole from Erabelle.”
“She would have gladly given Bud the brooches if she’d known he was in trouble.”
“Yes, but it would’ve been her choice, and even if she’d given up the jewelry, she would’ve still had Bud. You made sure she lost both. You wanted her completely dependent on you.”
“You think I like being responsible for everyone? You think I like having to save them from their own idiocy and poor judgment?” His hand went to his chest and he had to struggle to keep talking. “But you protect the people you love. You fight for your family and do your duty.”
An alarm sounded on the medical equipment. The nurses rushed in.
“Both of you, out,” one said as she cranked up the oxygen. “I told you not to upset him.”
As we walked out, the other nurse was putting a nitroglycerin tablet under Warner’s tongue.
I stopped at the open door to the sitting room with the intention of talking with Erabelle. She sat listening to the medical drama unfolding in the next room, but showed no sign of going in.
Going to the Bad Page 22
