Under the Gun

by Kelsey Browning

  “So what, this is like you sending me through some kind of spiritual car wash?” Abby Ruth closed her eyes and sighed in disgust. “This trip didn’t have a damn thing to do with my guns, did it?”

  “No, dear,” Lil said.

  Great. She’d given up an evening in her comfy clothes to play Ghostbusters. Heck, not even Ghostbusters, Ghostcharmers.

  She started to rock herself off the floor, but a sudden pressure skimmed across her chest, pinning her to the ground.

  “Oh, something’s happening.” Sera’s words were chock-full of excitement.

  Yeah, something was happening. Something weird as hell. But as she thought it, the pull of her incision eased. Not fully, but it suddenly didn’t feel like she was a Thanksgiving turkey that had been trussed up too tight.

  Had to be a coincidence.

  Then her arms and legs were invaded by a pleasant tingly sensation, sort of like she’d been plugged into a happy lamp. But by God, if she wanted something otherworldly to tickle her body parts, she’d sign up with an extraterrestrial dating service.

  Even as she struggled to recover control over her extremities, the tension and worry she’d been carrying in her neck and back for weeks melted away.

  Though she’d never utter a peep about it, she would swear she heard Lady What’s Her Name whisper, “Believe and be well.”

  Then, as quickly as she’d been pushed against the floor, a soft whoosh flew by Abby Ruth’s ear and she was free to move again. When she opened her eyes, the yellow glow was gone.

  “How do you feel?” Sera asked cautiously.

  “Like a damn fool.”

  “Oh.” Sera’s shoulders slumped.

  “You mean to tell me you think that Lady KitKat can cure cancer?” Although she didn’t buy into that kind of hooey, Abby Ruth raised her left arm and found the movement wasn’t nearly as tender as it had been earlier in the evening. She probably could make a snow angel right now.

  “Maybe not, but we figured it couldn’t hurt.”

  Abby Ruth drew to a crouch but hadn’t yet pushed to her feet when the sound of muffled footsteps in the distance hit her ears. “Someone’s here, and it ain’t the Lady.”

  “In here!” Lil pulled Abby Ruth to her feet and pushed her toward a three-sided alcove. Not exactly the best plan because now they were trapped. They all scurried behind a statue that looked like it might be the angel Michael. He was a big sucker and held a sword. She’d never been so happy to see a pair of ginormous wings. Although he was larger than life standing astride a pedestal, he was no match for four full-grown women. Sera and Maggie wrapped each other in a body-to-body hug. Which meant Abby Ruth only had one option. She gestured for Lil to step closer, so close the tiny woman was standing on the toes of her boots. They all held their breath until the footsteps crossed in front of the alcove and began to fade.

  “Ah…ah…” Maggie’s mouth went wide, and she squeezed her eyes closed. Sera stepped away just in time to avoid being whopped by Maggie’s arm when she swung it up to block a sneeze that would’ve brought down the Statue of Rhodes.

  Yeah, well, Maggie’s arm wasn’t any match for her sneeze. And Michael’s wing wasn’t any match for Maggie’s arm. Her elbow caught a feather and the piece of that statue snapped right off.

  Nimble little Lil jumped forward and caught it in her palms.

  “Lord, that was close,” Abby Ruth whispered.

  They all slumped in relief, but apparently they slumped too soon because from behind them someone barked, “Come out with your hands up. No funny business because I have a Taser and I know how to use it.”

  * * *

  One hand near her ear, Lil straightened her spine and slowly stepped out to face the man who’d busted them trying to hide behind one of God’s soldiers. A Summer always faced her problems head on. Still, she kept the other hand behind her back and felt the weight of Michael’s broken wing lifted from her palm.

  “Can we help you?” she said to the forty-something man wearing a polyester uniform. And people wondered why the security profession received no respect? Get them some outfits made of natural fibers and things might be a little different. She studied his face closer. Oh my, he was the guard on duty during Jessie’s service. Would he recognize Maggie and her?

  His eyes never flickered with recognition. “The mausoleum closed over two hours ago.”

  “You don’t say.” She fluttered her lashes, hoping she looked innocent.

  “Surely you saw the signs posted on the front door.”

  Oh, he wasn’t easily swayed by Southern charm. Not good. Not good at all. “Surely your superior explained we were cleared to be here after hours.”

  “I haven’t been on the job long, but I was told we don’t ever make exceptions to the visitation policy. Otherwise, we’d have family members—” he eyed them with suspicion, “—like y’all taking advantage and running roughshod over the rules.”

  “Young man, I have the utmost respect for rules. However, we have every right to be here.”

  “Why don’t you come up to the front and I’ll call my boss. If you’re here on his approval, he can confirm.”

  Think quickly, Lil. Mental acuity is the reason it’s important to keep playing Sudoku and crossword puzzles. She might need to take up that Words with Friends Maggie had been nagging her about. “I think this will more than justify our presence.”

  She reached into her handbag, and the man grabbed for his belt, but all he had there was a flashlight. “Hold it right there.”

  She gave him her best disappointed librarian look. “I don’t have a weapon in my purse. I simply wanted to show you this.” From an inside pocket, she withdrew a slim leather case. She flipped it open like she’d seen them do on the cable cop shows, flashed something round and silver, and quickly snapped it closed again. He certainly didn’t need to know it was one of her momma’s vintage brooches. “ATF. We’re here because we got an anonymous tip that some stolen guns were hidden in the mausoleum.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  She waved a hand. “Is it really? Have you noticed the excess storage room in this facility?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “We’re looking for this man.” She pulled Bad Charlie’s sketch from her pocketbook. “Have you seen him?”

  “He’s the guy that stole the guns you’re looking for?”

  “Allegedly.”

  The security guard rubbed his chin and peered closer at the picture. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m pretty sure I saw him a few days ago. Tuesday.”

  Lil’s heart jolted inside her chest, knocking against her ribcage. He’d seen Bad Charlie? This was crazy. She was bluffing and the guard seemed to be sitting in on her game of Texas Hold ’Em. “You’re certain?”

  He took the paper from her hand and studied it. “Positive.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  His shoulder came up and brushed his ear. “Dunno. He works for one of the funeral homes around here, I think. The one time I saw him, he dropped off a casket.”

  Oh my goodness. This was unexpected. And so exciting Lil almost did a little jig right there. Why on earth was Charlie delivering caskets to the mausoleum? Transportation of a sort, yes, but strange. “Can you remember the name of the funeral home?”

  “Can’t say that I do. But you could leave me a card in case I remember anything else about him.”

  Yes, she certainly could if she had a business card.

  And if she and the other gals were actually from the ATF.

  Since she didn’t and they weren’t, she just gave him a regal look, patted his hand, and said, “We’ll be in touch.”

  Chapter 19

  This morning, instead of trying to give Sera a good-morning hug and kiss, Marcus was quietly slipping into his pants as though trying not to wake her. That’s the way it had been since he’d overheard her and the others talking about the gun investigation. Was he still mad about the Brad thing? He didn’t understand what she and the girls had accom
plished in the past. Probably never would.

  And although she still wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted, she knew she didn’t want this chilliness between them. She couldn’t lie here pretending to sleep, so she sat up and stretched. “Are you going out scouting again today?” she asked quietly. Something told her all this exploring Marcus was doing lately wasn’t related to his movie project. Unlike many other men in Hollywood, he’d always been faithful to her. At least she thought he had.

  “I have three places to check out. What I’ve found so far doesn’t hold a candle to Summer Haven and Summer Shoals.”

  “Would you like me to go with you?”

  He sighed. “Why do I feel like you’re throwing me a bone?”

  Because he was a very smart man. A smart man who deserved better than the half-truths she’d been giving him. “Marcus, do you know what it feels like to be a bracelet?”

  He slumped into the chair near the window. “I have no idea what that means.”

  “If you think about it, a bracelet is pretty superfluous. All it does is jangle around and get in your way when you’re on the computer.”

  “I wouldn’t know since most men don’t wear them.”

  “My point exactly. Because they’re totally unnecessary and can sometimes be annoying as hell.”

  “Sera, what are you saying?”

  “That I’ve been your bracelet on and off for the past thirty years.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because it’s true.” Early on, the excitement of his lifestyle and the attention she’d received as his wife had been dizzying, but she’d somehow lost her sense of self along the way, and she didn’t want to do that again.

  A few years ago, he’d promised it would be different, and it had been…for a while. But once the movie industry sucked him back in to do a long overdue sequel to one of his Oscar-winning movies, their marriage had rolled right back downhill. And being an accessory was not good for her health. Mentally or physically.

  At first, all the travel felt glamorous and exciting. But then Marcus shot a film in a country so politically unstable that Sera and their son hadn’t been allowed to leave the hotel for five weeks. One of the hotel staff had found Finn a beat-up secondhand bike and he’d ridden that thing around the sixth floor until the already threadbare carpet was in tatters. When she returned to LA, she’d informed Marcus she wouldn’t raise her family that way.

  “I can’t help but think your extended midlife crisis drive across the country has something to do with the way you’re acting now. You haven’t been the same, been my Sera, since you returned to California.”

  She wanted to scream at him that she wasn’t his Sera. She was her Sera. “I need you to be patient.”

  “Patient?” His voice rose. “I didn’t ask questions. Gave you exactly what you wanted. Didn’t hunt you down.”

  “Until you filed for divorce.”

  “Hell, Sera, what was I supposed to do—wait forever? You have to know by now I didn’t want a divorce. I just wanted you to talk to me. I love you, and you wouldn’t talk to me.”

  “Love isn’t always enough.”

  “Are you saying it’s over?”

  “No,” she yelled. “I’m saying I don’t want to be your bracelet anymore.”

  “I see.” He turned away from her to gaze out the window. “So what is it you do want?”

  Misery welling up inside her, Sera curled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Trying to hold herself together. “I want to belong someplace where I make a difference. Where I’m valued for being Serendipity Meadow Blu Johnson, not Serena Johanneson.”

  “And that’s what you feel when you’re here in Summer Shoals? When you’re investigating these petty crimes?”

  “There’s nothing petty about them. They may seem small to a man who makes movies about wars and espionage and the world ending. But to the people here, these crimes are life impacting.”

  He turned back to her. “Sera, tell me once and for all you don’t love me anymore and I will stand up and walk out of here. I’ll sign the divorce papers I was such an idiot to have drawn up.”

  “I…I…” She couldn’t push the words past her tongue. She couldn’t tell him that she didn’t love him anymore because it wasn’t true. But she also couldn’t see how they could make this all work. Was she awful not to simply say the words and let him off the hook? “Marcus. I need time.”

  She watched him deflate, but in true Marcus style, he quickly shifted gears to business. Something he could control. “Although I’m looking at other locations today, I owe it to you to tell you I still think Summer Haven is the perfect place to shoot the main scenes of the movie I’m considering. I’ve already spoken to Lillian.”

  Sera released her knees, but her toes curled into the sheets. “Excuse me?”

  “She’s an enterprising woman. Light was dancing in her eyes as she spit out half a dozen ideas to leverage Summer Haven as a movie set for future promotions to get people to visit.”

  “But she has no idea how destructive it would be for your people to come in and use her home. Make a movie in Summer Shoals if you must, but please leave Lil out of it.”

  “From what I see, Summer Haven would benefit from a little destruction and reconstruction.”

  She couldn’t argue that, but people tromping through Summer Haven wouldn’t be nearly as glamorous as Lil thought. Convincing her of that wouldn’t be easy, but persuading Marcus was in Sera’s control. “What if I could show you some places closer to Atlanta? There are tons of these old antebellum homes all over Georgia. Summer Haven isn’t unique. Plus, if you choose a location closer to Atlanta, you can reduce the travel and shipping budget for supplies. Not to mention the time it will take people to get on and off set.”

  “That’s a good point.”

  She knew how to motivate him. Right in the production pants. He liked his movies to run on time and under budget.

  “We always were a good team,” he said simply, almost breaking her heart clean in two. “You had a great eye for location. Remember when we found that spot in the Texas Hill Country?”

  “Of course I remember. You won your third Oscar for that film.” She’d blown him off a lot over the past few of days to spend time with the girls, and with the investigation, there’d likely be more of that, so she said, “I’d like to go with you today. Give me twenty minutes to get dressed.”

  He nodded, a little reluctantly in her opinion, and left the room.

  Sera climbed out of bed and glanced down at her yoga pants and the cotton tunic. For the past year or so, this had been getting dressed. Part of her wanted to go as is, but the other part of her felt it wouldn’t kill her to dress the way Marcus preferred.

  Twenty minutes later, she strolled down the stairs. No bells. No yoga pants. No flowing material leaving a whimsical peaceful trail in her wake. Instead she was in a pair of designer black pants tapered to the ankle, and a camel top that echoed the color of her camel Prada espadrille wedge sandals. The black diamond tassel necklace that hung low down the front of her shirt sparkled, and the charm bracelet—a charm for every city Marcus had ever filmed in—was a bit of irony based on their earlier conversation.

  She felt different when she was dressed like this. Somehow so together, so perfect, that taking a deep breath was difficult. She’d pulled her hair into a long low ponytail and secured a metal clip to hold it in place. Marcus loved riding with the windows down. She could still remember the first time he’d taken her for a ride in his convertible, a vintage Austin-Healey. Back then, the forest-green car had been his pride and joy. Most weekends, they’d driven the PCH out of Malibu, exploring the California coastline. And oh how those black seats had burned the backs of her legs when she slid inside after hours at the beach. And the glove box stuck when she tried to open it.

  She and Marcus had been so in love. But she wasn’t that same twenty-something girl anymore.

  If only Marcus could acce
pt her need for something more, but what man wanted to hear that he alone wasn’t enough to make his woman happy? She was at a crossroads. She knew it. He knew it too. The problem was she wasn’t sure she could give up either him or Summer Shoals. And yet, she had to.

  “I’m ready,” she said as she walked into the kitchen, but he wasn’t there. “Marcus?”

  She found him outside, rooting around in the back of the Maserati, covering something with what looked like a tarp. “Did you pack us a picnic?”

  He hurriedly tucked in the tarp and slammed the trunk closed. “No…I…uh…thought we’d stop somewhere for lunch.

  Something wasn’t quite right here, but she held her hand out and said, “How about I drive?”

  “No way am I wandering all over Georgia in your van.”

  “I meant the Maserati.”

  “Oh…uh…” His feet shuffled in the dirt. “I’m the only insured driver.”

  Fine. It wasn’t worth arguing over, not after the discussion they’d already had this morning. In the car, Marcus turned on classical music, and she relaxed into the soft leather seat.

  The three locations Marcus had mapped out were stair steps away from Summer Haven out off I-75. The first one wasn’t anything like the picture or the description of the listing. Fine by her, because the farther he filmed from Summer Haven the better.

  Sera stared out the window, taking in spring’s bright green leaves and random sprigs of color dotting the yards and ditches as they rode along. When they neared the mausoleum, she thought about last night’s adventure with her friends. She said a little prayer that the Lady legend had some truth to it. Even if that ball of light didn’t really have healing powers, perhaps the power of suggestion would put Abby Ruth in a better frame of mind for her doctor’s appointment today and allow her to heal more quickly. How that woman ever traipsed off to Texas alone, with cancer weighing on her, was beyond Sera.

  * * *

  Sitting in the passenger seat of her own truck, Abby Ruth tried to keep nerves from eating her up. Although she wanted to be grumpy about Jenny’s insistence on driving her to her first appointment with Dr. Dempsey to discuss the details of the proposed radiation treatment, she couldn’t muster up the energy. She was too darn relieved to have her daughter by her side.