by Rita Herron
“Let me go with you, A.J.,” Matt said.
“No, Matt—”
Larry Lumber cleared his throat. “We’ll give you a ride, Matt. That’s the least I can do to make up for the past.”
Matt nodded, trying to ignore the possessive hand the former sheriff pressed to his mother’s back as they hurried outside to his car.
TALULAH COULDN’T BELIEVE Arthur Boles had come to her again. He looked almost desperate and smelled of sweat and nerves and…gasoline.
He told her he’d spilled some on his hands at the gas station when he was filling up that pricey Mercedes, but his eyes had twitched the way they always did when he lied.
Her mind took a blast back to the past to another night he’d visited her with that same desperate look in his eyes. Another night he’d smelled like trouble.
The night the Stantons had died.
She still wondered….
“Talulah, honey, you gonna get in this tub with me?”
She smiled and poured two glasses of champagne, curled her fingers along the stem of the goblets and sashayed back into the bathroom. The bubbles oozed near the edge of the tub, threatening to spill over, and Arthur, big man that he was, looked ridiculous submerged to his neck in the froth. But he tolerated the bubble baths for her.
And she always made the indulgence to his male pride worthwhile later.
The bubble baths were her little gift to herself. Sometimes Talulah wanted to lie back and pretend that the man in her bed was her husband, a devoted man who loved her, a man who brought her wine and roses and chocolates. A man who enjoyed pleasuring her, one who would promise her forever.
At least Arthur kept choosing her, even after all these years. He didn’t seem to mind that she’d aged or that her body had gone softer.
“Talulah, you are a sight for sore eyes tonight, you know that.” He reached up and tweaked her nipple, twisting the tight bud until she threw her head back and laughed.
“Arthur, you haven’t lost your touch.”
His eyes looked glassy as he sipped his drink. “I like being with you, Talulah. I…always have.”
She slid the sheer teddy down her body and kicked it onto the padded makeup chair. “Lordy, you get sexier and sexier. I…can’t imagine why you returned tonight, but I’m sure glad you did.”
His eyes, full of lust and male appreciation, skated over her, and Talulah’s heart fluttered like a schoolgirl’s. “Maybe the first time wasn’t enough.”
She batted her lashes, enjoying the flirtatious foreplay. So many of her customers in the past didn’t bother with the hunt, they just cut straight to the chase. So boring. They hadn’t learned the manners of the older generation. “You’re pretty potent for a man your age, too,” she said, placing her glass beside the tub.
“What do you mean, a man my age?” He growled, yanking her hand so she slid down into the water with him. Her breasts swayed, tingling as the hot soapy froth floated over her naked body and sloshed over the edge of the tub.
“Why didn’t you ever remarry?” she asked, vying for lighthearted but curious.
A hooded look guarded his eyes. “Because the woman I wanted was…unavailable.”
He slid his hand down between her legs, and her thighs tingled with anticipation. She lifted her glass and sipped her champagne, intending to probe for details about the woman, but his fingers moved inside her and she forgot words. Instead, she allowed his lovemaking to take her for a joyride. After all, the essence of Talulah meant loving. Feeling. Not thinking or answering questions.
Especially ones she didn’t want the answers to.
Like where Arthur had been during the time he’d left her earlier and the time he’d returned. If she knew she might have to lie about it later.
And Talulah would rather not know than have to lie….
A SEA OF BLACK HAD swallowed Ivy. Her head swirled, images bombarding her as she faded in and out of consciousness. Dust, mildew and smoke filled her nostrils, and she coughed, fighting to stay awake, but losing the battle.
Years slid away. She was back in the trailer. She’d seen the man in her mother’s bedroom. He was chasing her.
No. Her mother had sent her back to bed. She was safe. Nothing was going to happen.
But she’d awakened again later. Heard shouting. A man’s voice—was it the same man? She didn’t know….
“Please,” her mother begged. “Don’t hurt me. I just want to take my baby and leave.”
Her mother’s sob wrenched at Ivy, and she’d flung the door open and run toward the man shaking her mommy. But she couldn’t see his face. Could only feel his strength as he jerked her up by one arm and threw her against the wall. She flew backward, her head slamming into the wood, and pain exploded behind her eyes. The black emptiness swallowed her.
Sometime later, white dots twinkled in the darkness. She opened her eyes, felt something sticky on her hands. Looked down and saw the blood flowing onto the floor in a puddle around her mother like a muddy river.
Ivy screamed and squinted through the shadows. Her stomach lurched as she spotted her mother’s body. She was so pale. Lying so still. Her chest gaped open. Skin had been slashed. Layers of muscle and tissue spilled over.
Ivy opened her mouth to scream again, but no sound came out. Suddenly her father loomed above her. He yanked her up by her already sore arm. A sickening odor swirled around her. Her mother’s blood. Her father’s sweat. Cigarette smoke. Death.
“It’s all your fault your mama is dead, Ivy! Just look, I want you to see what you’ve done.”
But she’d closed her eyes. She didn’t want to look. Her mommy couldn’t be dead. No, if she just kissed her, she’d wake up and hug her and hold her again.
A shadow moved behind her. A sound…a footstep. The wooden board squeaked. Someone was in the room with her and her daddy. He heard it, too. He cursed and jerked around to see the intruder. Ivy took that split second to escape.
Run, Ivy. Run like the wind. Run from the monster.
But there was more than one. Her father. And the other man. They were both chasing her….
Ivy opened her eyes, dizzy, nauseated. Pain pounded her temples. Darkness engulfed her. She struggled to sit up, but swayed, then clutched for something to steady herself. Her hands were tied behind her back, she discovered. Her feet were bound, too. She rolled sideways and slammed into the wall. The space was tiny. Cramped. Dank.
Where was she?
She blinked to clear the fog from her head. She’d been having the nightmare again. But she was awake now, and this nightmare was real. Fragments of disjointed memories flashed back. She was inside the trailer, locked in the closet. She twisted to her side, panic seizing her. She had to get out. See Matt. Save him from going to jail again. Find the other man…
Adrenaline surging through her, she kicked at the door with both feet. Pounded it over and over. Her head throbbed with the effort. Blood trickled down her forehead.
How long had she been here? She’d lost all sense of time.
Smoke curled and seeped through the crack below the door. A splinter of light broke the dark, and the sound of wood crackling mingled with her choppy breathing.
Dear God, the trailer was on fire. And she was trapped inside. She was going to die. And she hadn’t even told Matt she loved him.
Or that in her nightmare, she thought she’d seen the face of the man in the bedroom with her mother.
MAYBE IVY HADN’T STAYED at the trailer park. Maybe she’d returned to the cabin and she was safe.
Even as Matt tried to reassure himself, his body and mind weren’t listening. He knew Ivy was in trouble. He sensed that she needed him, and feared he might be too late.
He quickly dialed her cell number as he climbed in the car with Lumbar and his mother, tension tightening his insides when Ivy didn’t answer. Lumbar followed A.J., while Matt phoned Abram Willis and explained the situation, then alerted him to remain on standby in case A.J. decided to press charges against his
mother.
Matt’s heart pounded as they neared the trailer park. Smoke spiraled into the gray sky, but the rain had let up. For once, Matt wished the damn sky would pour rain.
“Where’s the fire truck?” Matt asked, surprised he hadn’t heard a siren.
“We only have a volunteer service around here,” his mother said. “Some of the guys have to come from the other side of the mountain.”
A volunteer service? They might not make it in time.
Lumbar turned the corner and sped down the street, and Matt’s stomach churned at the sight of Ivy’s Jetta parked in front of her old home. She’d received threats, a warning…someone wanted her out of the picture. And now this fire at the mobile home where her mother had died…
She must be inside. Fire spewed from the cracks of one of the boarded-up windows, and smoke hissed through the edges, growing thicker. His lungs tightened with panic.
What if he was too late? What if the killer had gotten to her this time?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MATT FOUGHT TO STAY afloat through the blinding sea of panic. Maybe Ivy had escaped when the fire started.
He quickly scanned the perimeter of the trailer park and searched the growing crowd on the lawn, but didn’t see her anywhere.
What if she was trapped inside?
He threw open the car door as soon as Lumbar screeched to a stop, and his feet hit the ground running. He yelled Ivy’s name as he crossed the distance, shouting, hoping she might be outside, not in the blazing trailer.
A.J. grabbed his arm as he reached for the front door.
“Matt, you can’t go in there!” the sheriff yelled. “Let the firemen handle it.”
“I can’t wait,” Matt shouted. “Ivy might be inside.”
A.J. swallowed hard. “You don’t know that. And it’s too dangerous.”
Dangerous? Christ, Ivy might not even be alive. Every second counted.
He felt the door and found it hot. Flames shot through the cracks and smoke spewed from below the doorway.
Was there a back entrance?
“Matt, come on, back up.” A.J. yanked on his arm, but Matt jerked free.
“I can’t just stand back and watch her die.”
A.J.’s face hardened at the implication that he would do just that, but Matt didn’t care. He’d lost his friend years ago. All that mattered now was Ivy.
He jogged around the side of the trailer and found another door. Pulse racing, he ripped away one of the boards from the window and peered inside. The fire was spreading fast, rippling along the walls of the living room area toward the kitchen. So far the bedrooms weren’t ablaze, but considering the small space and old wood, the entire space would be completely engulfed in seconds.
He jiggled the door, but it was locked. Frantic, he raced back to A.J. Several trailer park residents had congregated, watching the disaster, and A.J. worked to control the crowd. Matt’s mother looked pale and shaken as she huddled beside Lumbar.
“Do you have any tools in that squad car?” Matt asked.
A.J. nodded and opened the trunk. Matt found a hatchet, ran back to the rear entrance and slammed it into the thin wood, splintering it in seconds. Heaving for air, he shoved open the door, inhaled sharply, then darted inside.
“Ivy!” He quickly swept through the bedrooms, but they were empty. Sweat poured down his face, the scalding heat from the flames growing more intense as he ran to the living room. Patches of flames crawled along the front door, eating the faded sofa and carpet, rippling toward the kitchen cabinets.
“Ivy!”
Suddenly a pounding noise cut through the sound of the crackling fire. He jerked around, searching for the source, then heard it again. A noise coming from the closet.
Ivy. She must be trapped inside.
Pulse racing, he darted through the blaze and yanked at the door. The heat scalded his hands, and fire clawed at his feet. He ignored it and yanked harder. The door finally gave way, wood splintering.
The air froze in his lungs at the sight of Ivy bound and tied, curled on the floor, bruised and bleeding. He scooped her up and raced back the way he’d come, dodging a wall of flames, barely keeping one step ahead of the fire as it chewed at his heels. Ivy was half-unconscious, gasping for air, her cheeks pale but hot from the flames.
But she was alive.
Flames caught the hallway flooring and he leaped outside, then ran around the trailer, carrying her to safety just as the dilapidated structure erupted into a full blaze. Orange, red and yellow flames shot into the heavens, flaring against the murky sky.
A.J. met them in front, keeping the spectators back as Matt dropped to the ground to check Ivy. Anger poured through him as he untied her hands and feet. The fire truck finally squealed up, and three men jumped out, unrolling hoses and dousing water on the flames to keep them from spreading to the other mobile homes.
Matt pressed a hand to Ivy’s cheek. Soot and sweat soaked her clothing and face. Her fingers were bleeding from trying to claw her way out, and blood matted her hair. He felt the back of her head, angled it slightly and saw a contusion. Fury surged through him.
“Ivy, honey, can you hear me?”
Matt’s mother and Lumbar scooted closer, looking concerned, and A.J. yelled for one of the rescue workers to check Ivy. Seconds later, an EMT pressed an oxygen mask over her face. Matt cradled her against him as the rescue worker checked her vitals.
“An ambulance should be here any minute. If they don’t arrive by the time the fire’s out, we’ll take her to the hospital,” the fireman said.
Ivy stirred and clutched at Matt’s hand, then gasped, struggling for oxygen.
“Shh, just rest, baby. You’ll be fine,” he murmured.
Across the lawn, Talulah and Arthur Boles appeared in the crowd, standing out because they appeared to be together. Matt was shocked to see the two of them in public.
Had Arthur been visiting Talulah’s again?
Eyes wide with terror, Ivy pulled at the oxygen mask, sliding it down. “Matt, someone was…in the trailer with me.”
His blood ran cold. “I know. He hit you over the head, tied you up and left you there to die.” His breath hissed out. “Did you see his face?”
“No, but I…I remembered something. I think it’s important.”
He stroked her cheek, urging her to put the mask back on. “What?”
“Arthur Boles…he was at the trailer the night my mother died. He…I’m not sure, but I—I think he might have been in bed…with my mother.”
ARTHUR BOLES PRESSED A sweating hand over his heart, a sharp pain shooting through his chest. He’d forgotten his blood pressure pills earlier and needed one now. The stress was more than he could handle.
Last night, he’d almost set fire to the cabin where Ivy Stanton had been staying, but his son’s phone call had stopped him just before he’d lit the damn match. He’d had gasoline on him when he’d arrived at Talulah’s. And now Ivy’s cabin would smell like gas.
What if Talulah got suspicious? What if someone had seen him and connected him with this fire?
And dammit, why hadn’t Ivy Stanton died inside? What was she, some kind of cat with nine lives? And what the hell was Mahoney doing here, free and clear, running in to save her. He was supposed to be in jail.
“Let me go talk to my boy,” he said. “See what I can do to help with this situation.” Yes, that was good. Salvage himself by offering help. Turn this disaster around so he could look like a good guy.
Talulah’s bottled-blond eyebrow rose in response. She was smart as shit under that ton of makeup. How much would her silence cost him this time?
Whatever the price, he’d pay it.
“What’s going on?” he asked as he approached A.J. “I thought Mahoney was in jail.”
A.J. rubbed a handkerchief across his own sweat-streaked face. “I had to release him.”
“How come?”
“His mother copped to killing her husband.”
A
.J.’s cold eyes met his father’s. “She claims she did it to protect him.”
Arthur hadn’t seen that one coming. He should have. He’d spent half his life doing things to protect his own son.
And that deal with the devil would probably land him in hell for eternity.
A.J. TENSED AS MATT approached him. “We’re going to take Ivy to the hospital. You saw she was bound. This wasn’t an accidental fire, A.J. You need to investigate thoroughly.”
A.J.’s temper flared. “I know how to do my job.”
“Then do it. This guy is cold-blooded, A.J. You’d better find him before I do, because when I do, I’ll kill him.”
A smile almost erupted from A.J. Matt might just hang himself, after all. At least ten people nearby had heard his threats. Of course, they had seen the ropes binding Ivy’s hands and feet, too. Fear-filled whispers rippled through the crowd. People would ask questions.
He cut his gaze back toward his father. What if he didn’t like the information he gleaned when he finally confronted him?
Lumbar sidled over, holding the ropes the man had used to tie Ivy. “Have these checked out, A.J. You might find some fingerprints on them.” Lumbar arched his bushy brows. “You’re calling an arson team to investigate the fire, too, aren’t you?”
A.J. agreed through gritted teeth. There were too many witnesses for him not to. But damn, bringing in other cops would complicate things.
Matt and Lumbar strode back toward Ivy, and A.J. felt his father move up beside him again. But his cell phone shrilled before his father could start in on him again. “Sheriff Boles.”
“It’s Lady Bella Rue. That cult is back down at the river.”
“Damn.” A.J.’s fingers tightened around the tiny mobile unit. He glanced at his deputy. “Get out there and set up a watch, but don’t move in until I arrive. Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone and those boys will be there.”
As soon as he ended the call, his cell phone rang again. “Sheriff Boles.”
“It’s Roger Umbry from the crime scene unit. We have the results from Dora Leigh Werth’s body.”
“And?”
“We found traces of skin underneath her fingernails that belonged to a family member. She probably scratched her attacker when she fought to escape.”
