Texas Secrets, Lovers' Lies

by Karen Whiddon

  The fact that someone had shot at her and Brock might mean the answer had something to do with the Hitching Post. If she didn’t hear soon, she’d call the sheriff and find out what they’d learned. Meanwhile, she’d just have to keep at it and refuse to give up.

  For now, she sat at the kitchen table with her laptop, working on her blog and keeping herself available in case Mama wanted to talk.

  She also thought about Brock entirely too much, and several times she picked up her phone to call him. But, each time, she put the cell down without even pulling him up in her contact list.

  The other person constantly in her thoughts was Roger Giles, the sheriff. She couldn’t help wondering if he’d made any progress on the investigation.

  She needed to find out. Again, she itched to call Brock. As she was attempting to talk herself out of it, her cell rang.

  Caller ID showed her agent. Answering, she learned her book proposal had gone to auction.

  “This is certainly news for celebration,” her agent enthused. Apparently three publishers all wanted her book.

  Any other time, Zoe would have been dancing with glee. Now, she felt so mired in gloom and doom she only wanted to cry.

  Which wouldn’t do at all. Her agent would think she’d lost her mind. She was happy, she really was. She just couldn’t show it.

  “Zoe? Are you there, hon?”

  “Sorry, I’m just rendered speechless by shock,” Zoe said, trying to summon up some normalcy in her reaction. “That’s absolutely fantastic,” she continued. “I never expected this.”

  “I did,” her agent said firmly. “Your blog is a huge success, so naturally they want the book. We’ll have all the bids in within a few hours. The auction will be over later today. I’ll keep you posted on the outcome.”

  With that, the call ended.

  Staring at her phone, Zoe considered. Right now, she should feel electrified, ready to dance around the room. After all, this was what she wanted, what she’d worked so long and hard for. While the advertising she sold on her blog provided her with a decent income, this book would be the icing on the cake.

  If she’d been in New York, she’d have called up some girlfriends to go out and celebrate. Or she and her agent would have met for drinks.

  In Anniversary, with her best friend recently buried, Brock was the only person she wanted to tell, and she couldn’t. And while Mama Bell had always been interested in Zoe’s life, Zoe didn’t want to bother her in the middle of her grieving.

  On the other hand, maybe this would be exactly the kind of distraction Mama Bell needed to help her get over the hump.

  With that in mind, she crossed to the master bedroom and tapped on the door. Mama Bell’s halfhearted response only made Zoe more determined. Whatever quilt Mama was working on would have to wait. Zoe was going to drag her out for a subdued celebratory lunch.

  But when she finally entered the craft room, instead of busily sewing on her latest quilt, Mama Bell sat in the corner, curled up in a ball on the floor. Apparently she hadn’t bothered to change out of her pajamas—Zoe wondered how long she’d worn them. She barely lifted her head as Zoe approached. Her puffy eyes and red nose, as well as the pile of wadded-up tissues, showed she’d been crying.

  Zoe nearly reconsidered her plan. Crouching down next to Mama, Zoe wrapped the older woman in her arms and simply held her.

  “Come eat with me,” Zoe said softly, smoothing Mama’s gray hair back from her face.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “When was the last time you ate?”

  Mama’s tiny shrug was answer enough.

  “I’m not taking no for an answer,” Zoe insisted. “Now let’s get you cleaned up so we can go out to eat. Your choice.”

  But Mama had already begun shaking her head. “Out?” she asked, her voice horrified. “I’m not leaving this house. Everyone in town will want to come and offer me their condolences, both for Shayna’s death and the end of my marriage. I can’t deal with that right now.”

  The end of her marriage? Zoe knew how fast gossip traveled around here—she supposed most small towns were like that. But as far as she knew, Marshall Bell had been sleeping here at night. She’d had high hopes the two Bells would be able to work things out.

  Apparently not. And now was definitely not the time to comment on that.

  “Okay, we won’t go out,” Zoe said. “I’ll make us something. How about that?”

  Wiping her eyes, Mama didn’t bother to hide her horrified expression. “You, cook? Unless you went to chef school or something while you were gone, you couldn’t boil water.”

  Zoe pretended to be offended. At least she’d gotten a reaction. “How about this?” she offered. “I’ll go pick us something up. We can eat out on the back porch?”

  After Mama Bell agreed, Zoe shut off her little television. She made the older woman promise to shower and get dressed, then snagged the car keys off the counter and headed to town, her mood better than it had been in days.

  Whether she shared her news with Mama Bell or not, Zoe had reason to celebrate. Several times during the drive to town, she had to suppress the urge to call Brock. Even though he, more than anyone else, would be the one person she’d want to share such good fortune with, the news would also serve as a reminder that she had another, completely separate life. One where she stood a chance of finding happiness.

  Maybe, she told herself, she’d celebrate alone, another time. Somewhere else.

  * * *

  Pacing the back storage rooms of the feed store and letting Eve take care of customers, Brock tried to come to terms with the depth of his rage. If Roger didn’t catch the SOB pretty damn quickly, Brock planned to go hunting himself.

  Whoever had shot at them could have killed Zoe. The thought made his blood run cold. Even if she lived in some far-off, northern city, he couldn’t imagine a world without Zoe in it. Add to that the possibility that this shooter might have been the one to murder Shayna, and it was all Brock could do to sit still.

  So when Roger called and asked Brock to come down to the sheriff’s office, Brock couldn’t get there fast enough.

  When he arrived, he was stunned to see Zoe pull up behind him.

  “He called you, too?”

  Zoe nodded. “Maybe he has good news.”

  “I hope so.” Side by side, they walked into the building. Agnes immediately ushered them back to Roger’s office.

  “I think we got the guy.” Once Brock and Zoe were seated, rather than sit behind his metal desk, Roger paced back and forth, hands shoved down in his pockets.

  “You caught him?” Zoe sounded stunned, inadvertently revealing she’d had no faith in the sheriff’s abilities regarding this case.

  Roger exchanged a look with Brock, indicating he’d got that, too. “Yes.” He didn’t bother to hide his amusement at Zoe’s reaction.

  “What he have to say?” Brock asked.

  “Not much. He’s a messed-up meth head.” Roger’s voice rang with disgust. “Says he doesn’t know why he did it. He claims he doesn’t even know where he got the gun.”

  “Is it traceable?”

  “We’re working on it. The serial number was filed off it, but this particular manufacturer puts it in more than one location.” He shrugged. “He’s still being interrogated. We’ll offer to reduce the charges if he rolls over on whoever hired him.”

  This surprised Brock. He glanced at Zoe, who also appeared shocked. “Hired him?”

  “Yeah. It’s clear this guy wasn’t capable of acting alone. We checked his bank records and have proof. Confronted with that, he’s already admitted he recently came into a large sum of money, which he promptly used to get high. Someone paid him to shoot at the two of you.”

  Zoe found her voice. “But why?”

 
Roger smiled at her and Brock found himself wanting to deck the other man. “That, I don’t know. Maybe your snooping around the Hitching Post is starting to bother someone.”

  “That’s why I took Brock with me,” she said. “If anyone can protect me, he can.”

  For that, Brock wanted to hug her.

  “As well as that may be,” Roger said, including both of them in his hard-eyed stare, “I want you to stop. Stay out of the Hitching Post. Let us do our job. We’ll catch whoever killed Shayna, I assure you.”

  Zoe crossed her arms. “Now, do you really believe Brock and I were the actual targets?”

  Roger nodded. “I do. Clearly it wasn’t a random shooting. And even more incriminating, we found a piece of paper in his pocket with both your descriptions.”

  Brock cursed. A quick glance at Zoe revealed she seemed energized by this information rather than taken aback.

  “It wasn’t good news,” Roger said drily. Evidently he, too, had noticed Zoe’s reaction.

  “In a way, it is,” she said. “Because that proves we’re getting too close. We’re making the killer uncomfortable. Don’t you see? We can’t stop now. We have to go back.”

  Roger made an unintelligible sound. Brock couldn’t tell if it was shock or surprise.

  Brock looked down to hide his smile. If memory served, from now on out, Zoe would be like a dog with a bone. She wouldn’t be able to leave this alone.

  “Absolutely not,” Roger barked. “I don’t need two or three more murders on my hands.” He lowered his voice, glancing from one to the other. “Please. As a favor to me, promise you’ll stay away from the Hitching Post.”

  The silence stretched out. Though tempted to answer for her, Brock knew doing any such thing would guarantee that Zoe would do the opposite of whatever he said. She could be ornery like that. Truth was, he couldn’t blame her. He too had a strong aversion to being told what to do.

  “Zoe?” Roger prompted. “Come on, help me out here.”

  “Fine.” Lifting her chin, Zoe looked the sheriff right in the eye. “Do your job. Find Shayna’s killer.”

  With that, she sailed out the door.

  “Doesn’t she realize we’re working on it?” Roger looked at Brock. “Is she serious?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Brock drawled. “I’d say you’d better get busy. You’ve got a killer to catch.” Getting up, he followed Zoe out the door.

  Outside, she stopped suddenly, causing Brock to run into her. Instinctively, his arms went out, and somehow they were chest to chest. The rational part of him knew he should push her away. Instead, he tightened his arms around her. Damn, she felt good.

  Her triumphant smile faded as she gazed up at him. He gave her a second to protest, and then he claimed her mouth in a kiss.

  Mine, he thought fiercely. All mine.

  * * *

  It took several breathtaking seconds for Zoe to realize exactly what she was doing. Standing on the doorstep of the sheriff’s office, kissing Brock for the entire world to see.

  With a startled gasp, Zoe broke away.

  He stood still, gaze riveted on her face. Despite his closed-off expression, she knew he was vulnerable. As was she. As was she.

  Heart in her throat, she took a step backward.

  “This isn’t over, Zoe,” Brock said. The sound of his voice stirred something inside her.

  “I know,” she answered, frozen in place despite knowing she needed to move. Anniversary was a small town. All it took was one person to notice them, one person to have seen them locking lips as though each never wanted to let the other go, and the rumors would start flying.

  With a sense of shock, she realized she didn’t really care. If she had a choice, she’d choose Brock. This realization brought such a deep, familiar pain it was enough impetus to start her moving.

  She got in the car and, her hands shaking, fitted the key in the ignition. Luckily, Brock didn’t follow. If he had, she wouldn’t have had the willpower to send him away. She glanced toward where she’d left him and realized he must have gone back inside. Maybe to put more pressure on Roger to find the killer.

  Some of the tension coiled inside her drained slightly.

  Backing from her spot and pulling out into the street, she still had to head into town and grab food for Mama Bell. She went to the closest place, got some fried chicken in a bucket and drove home.

  As she pulled up in the Bells’ driveway, Zoe’s cell rang. Caller ID showed Cristine. Great. For a heartbeat, Zoe debated pressing the decline call button. Instead, she took a deep breath and answered.

  “Zoe?” Cristine’s voice sounded muffled, as though she’d been crying.

  Or drunk. Zoe glanced at her watch. She really didn’t have time for this. Not right now.

  “What’s up?” Trying her best to sound breezy, Zoe jingled her car keys, aware the other woman would be able to hear them. “I’m on my way out the door,” she lied.

  “Oh, that’s good.” Cristine laughed, a bitter sound with way more pathos than humor. “Actually, it’s kind of symbolic, since I’m on my way out, too.”

  At the words, a chill of alarm skittered up Zoe’s spine. “On your way out where?” she asked.

  “I’m finished. Done. I’ve decided to end it,” Cristine said sadly. “I have no more reason to live.”

  Zoe’s heart stopped. Struggling to find her voice, she hoped she sounded normal. “Where are you right now?”

  “Home. I want to die at home.”

  Damn. “Listen, how about I come over there and we talk? Would that be okay?”

  Silence.

  “Cristine? Are you there?”

  “Yes.”

  Though Zoe wouldn’t have thought it possible, Cristine sounded even more lifeless. A horrible thought occurred to her. “Cristine, have you taken anything?”

  “Like what?” She actually sounded puzzled. “Oh, wait. You mean like pills?”

  “Yes. Exactly. Have you taken any pills?”

  “No. I’m going to do this right.” Cristine gave a hollow laugh. “Pills are too uncertain. I want to make sure I’m dead.”

  Zoe had just parked Mama Bell’s car.

  “Don’t do anything yet. Promise me.” She started the ignition.

  Again, silence from the other end of the phone.

  “Cristine.” Tone sharp, Zoe gripped her cell so tightly she was surprised she hadn’t cracked it. With her one free hand, she put the shifter in Reverse and backed into the street. If she remembered right, Cristine lived in the neighborhood behind the high school. “Promise me you won’t do anything until I get there. We need to talk.”

  Instead of agreeing, Cristine let loose a string of curses.

  Again, Zoe had to try to intervene. “Cristine, listen to me. I want you to wait until I get there. Don’t do anything foolish.”

  “You don’t even know where I live.”

  “You put your address on the flyer. Isn’t that near the high school?”

  When Cristine answered in the affirmative, Zoe pressed the accelerator and headed that way. She figured it would be safer if she kept Cristine on the phone all the way there.

  Even as she cast about for something to say, Cristine started sobbing, great, hug-your-belly-with-your-arms-because-it-hurts-so-much sobs. In between these, she said something, but Zoe couldn’t make it out.

  Then, before Zoe could speak, Cristine ended the call.

  Immediately, Zoe hit Redial. The call went to voice mail, which meant Cristine had turned the phone off.

  Heartbeat kicking into overdrive, Zoe called 911. She reported what was going on to the dispatcher, a woman whose voice she vaguely recognized, giving her the general address. “You need to get Roger Giles,” Zoe ordered. “He’ll know where this is. Tell him to
send someone over here.” Then, despite the dispatcher’s request to remain on the line, Zoe hung up.

  She broke every speed limit on the way to Cristine’s.

  Chapter 15

  Pulling up in front of the redbrick ranch house, Zoe took a deep breath. Did Cristine have a gun? Should she wait for the police? Since she only had a split second to decide, Zoe elected to go inside.

  When she reached the front entrance, she knocked softly, and then tried the doorknob. Unlocked, it turned in her hand. Safe or not, she took a deep breath and stepped inside.

  As she closed the door behind her, she stopped, blinking as her eyes tried to adjust to the light. Or lack of, to be more specific. Cristine had closed the heavy drapes and sat in as much darkness as could be managed in the middle of the day.

  “Hey.” Zoe moved closer. Cristine barely looked up or acknowledged her presence. She was sprawled in an armchair, her hair and clothing in total disarray.

  “Are you all right?” Zoe asked.

  Cristine grunted. “I will be soon.” As she shifted her weight in the chair and faced Zoe, Zoe realized something else.

  Cristine had a gun. Zoe’s heart stuttered.

  “What are you doing?” she asked gently, trying not to startle the other woman.

  Lower lip trembling, Cristine lifted her head. She looked from her pistol to Zoe, and then back again. “Trying to get up the courage to end all this nonsense.”

  Swallowing, Zoe tried to figure out what to say. Well aware the wrong words could cause Cristine to do something they’d both regret, Zoe knew she had to try anyway.

  “Why?” She made her voice soft and caring, that of a true friend, trying to understand. Her chest ached for the other woman’s pain. If she’d known sooner, she might have been able to help, even if it meant involving a professional.

  Instead of answering, Cristine looked up at Zoe and frowned. “Did you know I had an affair with Marshall Bell? He won’t even talk to me now.”

  Was that what this was about?

  “What about Shayna?” Zoe asked. “How is it you two were still friends after she walked in on you?”