For a moment, Bo looked thoughtful. Nah, he answered, I’m not sure I could. He drank the last of his coffee and stared out across the pond. I guess what they say is true. You can’t really go home again, can you?
I don’t think that’s true, Annie replied. I came home, and it’s better than I expected it to be in a lot of ways. Besides, home is really where you make it. I hope you reconsider buying that land over there, she added earnestly, because I can’t stand the smell of chicken poop.
They both laughed, the serious mood broken. I would love to stay and chat all day, Annie told him, but I’m afraid this place won’t run itself. Let me know if you need anything before you check out tomorrow.
Bo agreed that he would, and Annie left him alone on the veranda. She returned her own cup to the kitchen, but didn’t get to the laundry she’d had in mind. Instead, Rory’s smiling face popped up in the doorway that led outside to the barn.
Hey, come here a minute, he whispered loudly. Come look at this.
Annie was curious about why Rory was whispering, so she followed him outside.
Don’t make too much noise, or you’ll scare them. He led Annie around to the back of the barn where a pile of firewood lay scattered haphazardly. Look up under that big piece, he told her, but don’t get too close.
Annie peered into the darkness. At first, she couldn’t see anything, save for a few bloody feathers lying on the ground near the log. Then her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she saw what Rory was pointing at.
Three pairs of eyes peered out at her from behind furry noses. Are those fox cubs?
Rory nodded. I’m guessing we found the reason for all the chicken attacks, he whispered. I don’t see the mother, but she can’t be far from here. We’d better get back so she doesn’t think we’re threatening her babies.
They retreated as quietly as possible, though Rory pointed out that the foxes must have been hiding there for days already. If they hadn’t been spooked by the usual activity on the property, they probably wouldn’t be bothered by Annie stepping on a dry twig.
Well, I guess we know what kind of watch dog Karma is, she complained as they made their way away from the barn. Can’t even keep a family of foxes away.
You’d better call animal control to come and relocate them, Rory suggested. Or just call Emmett. He’ll know who to send. You don’t want those little guys getting too used to people or wandering too near the road. And you really don’t want them using your mother’s chicken coop for a buffet restaurant.
Annie winced at the thought of the poor hens being terrorized by an entire family of foxes. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed Emmett’s number without hesitation.
"Em? It’s Annie. I hate to bother you, but we have a little problem. No, it’s nothing serious, but we found the fox that killed Mama’s hen. It’s got babies, and they’re all holed up in a woodpile behind our barn. Rory says
animal control can relocate them--do you know who to call?"
Annie listened for a moment, then she nodded to herself. Uh-huh. Oh, well, I see. No, of course, I won’t. Yes, of course, I will. You, too, Em. She ended the call and looked at Rory with wide eyes.
What did he say?
He’s bringing someone out here to get them later today.
Rory’s eyebrows furrowed. He doesn’t have to come out here for that, does he?
No, Annie admitted, but I think he wants to be here to interview a couple of suspects. Emmett just told me that Bobby LaRue’s fingerprints were found on a glass in Frances LaRue’s kitchen.
Rory’s eyes went wide. Whoa, that’s news, he agreed.
That’s not all. Apparently Adrian LaRue’s fingerprints were found on the dead man’s body. She waited for Rory to process this. I guess he’s not dead after all, she added.
He didn’t say anything about Bo Michaels? He took his glass for fingerprints, too, so I assume he was a suspect.
Rory, Emmett said that the prints on Bo’s glass didn’t come back as his--they matched Adrian LaRue’s. Bo Michaels is Adrian LaRue.
Rory took this in. Something behind Annie caught his attention, distracting him for a moment.
Rory, did you hear me?
Yeah, Adrian LaRue is alive. And it looks like he’s heading home.
Annie turned to look where Rory was staring. Bo Michaels--or Adrian, if Emmett was right--was disappearing into the treeline behind the pond, heading for, she assumed, the LaRue property. Crap.
We should follow him, shouldn’t we? She hoped Rory would say no, but he was already loping silently across the lawn. Annie didn’t wait for him to answer, but instead rushed to catch up, then fell in step beside him as they chased their quarry into the dappled branches of the small patch of forest that lay beyond the pond.
20
Homecoming
Despite the fact that the spring foliage was in full force, it was surprisingly difficult for Annie and Rory to keep from being seen. It didn’t help that Annie wasn’t the stealthy ninja she often imagined herself to be. It also didn’t help that every time she looked in front of her, Rory’s posterior seemed to grab her attention.
Darn it. She’d gone quite a long time without letting such a simple thing as lusty feelings about a man’s backside take up free space in her brain, and the last thing she needed to be focusing on at that particular moment in time was just how delectably his jeans hugged his slightly rounded, perfectly shaped derriere.
She tried to focus on what she’d say to Bo Michaels, erm, Adrian LaRue, once she saw him again. Part of her brain tried to remind her that she could very well be following a cold-blooded killer back to the scene of his crime, but the other part of her brain kept reminding her that Rory’s butt looked better in his forties than it did when he was a teenager.
She almost ran into him once when he stopped suddenly, his arm held out to stop her from proceeding. If Bo heard them, he didn’t let on. Instead, he picked his own way stealthily and steadily through the brush and pine trees. The ground in this small copse of woods was slick with pine needles and damp earth where the sun never fully reached. Come summertime this area would be a major fire hazard for sure, but now, in the sullen springtime, it was more damp than anything.
The needles crunched under Annie’s feet when she resumed walking, and she focused on the feeling of the brittle bristles beneath her feet. She tried to shift her focus on Bo, but she kept losing him when Rory stepped between the musician and her line of sight. Finally, Rory slowed down. They’d reached the edge of the woods where the trees thinned considerably. They would have to hold back if they didn’t want to be seen.
She fixed her eyes on Bo. He didn’t hesitate while crossing the yellow strip of police tape, ducking under where it blocked the entrance to the front porch. He barely paused to check the doorknob, which turned easily in his hand. He didn’t look back over his shoulder as he entered the dark, melancholy house.
Do you think he saw us? Annie asked, picking a spiderweb off her arm. She shuddered as she realized that she’d never seen the thing when she walked into it. For all she knew, its occupant was scurrying along her clothing or clinging to her hair, waiting for an opportunity to sink its fangs into her in retribution for destroying its home.
If he did, he’s not too worried about it. Rory looked around. I don’t want to go in there and surprise him. I don’t think we should go in there without being prepared.
He looked around, eyeing up the yard for something to make him feel more prepared. Grabbing an ancient, rusted tire iron from the side of the house, he turned to Annie.
I’ll go in and confront him. You stay out here--we don’t know what state of mind he’s in.
Annie felt a little sick. No! You are not going in there waving that thing around and besides, he likes me. He trusts me. Let me talk to him, Rory. Let’s at least give him a chance to explain himself.
Rory hesitated, not wanting to put Annie at risk, but she only used his pause to press forward towards the house.
Annie relented and stepped aside. Rory took the porch steps two at a time and slipped under the yellow tape and in through the front door like a shadow. Annie followed, tripping over a loose board on the top step as she ducked under the police tape. Ninja, she was not.
She regained her footing and followed Rory into the decrepit house. It smelled just as bad as before, maybe even worse, and she was pretty sure that she saw beady eyes and a tail dart behind her as she pushed the front door almost closed. She didn’t shut it completely, but she didn’t feel right leaving it wide open, either.
Bo, you in here? Rory’s voice sounded strange in this dark, depressing place. The rooms were dark and silent, save for the sound of creaking floorboards beneath their feet. The living room, which was the first room off the main hallway as you walked inside, was bathed in milky sunlight that filtered in through filthy windows.
Bo Michaels stood in a swathe of sunlight, dappled by the shadows cast through dingy glass. He held a book in his hands.Yeah, I’m here. He looked up at Annie, nodded to Rory. I guess you might be wondering why I came over here, he began, but his voice caught in his throat.
She was so pretty, he continued, clearing his throat. He didn’t deserve her. I swear, I think his meanness killed her. I mean, I know the doctors said it was cancer, but I think she really died of a broken heart. How can you spend your life with someone who doesn’t even know how to love you back?
Annie glanced at the cover of the book. It was a photo album, the kind with a window on the cover that held one special photograph. Nestled in the frame was a photo of a young woman and a chubby toddler.
Your mother, Annie guessed.
Bo nodded. And you?
He let out a small laugh. Yeah, I was real little stinker at that age.
Rory broke his silence. You’re Frances LaRue’s son? Adrian LaRue?
Bo nodded again. Surprise! he laughed. I’m not dead. He paused for a long moment, trying to decide what he wanted to say.
I left this place a very long time ago. People thought I died, and I didn’t correct them. I was a mess for a while, but I met somebody who saved my life. He took me in, taught me how to play a guitar, and the rest, as they say, is history. He looked around the living room. Something between disgust and nostalgia filled his eyes. Without saying anything else, he perched uneasily on the edge of a chair.
Annie looked around the room. It bore the common signs of neglect--thick dust, an overflowing table filled with haphazardly piled newspapers and food wrappers, a dead fern shoved in one corner--but it also held a heaviness, a sense of sadness so strong, it made Annie’s chest tighten.
What happened with your dad? She hadn’t known that she was going to ask the question, but it popped out of her mouth just the same.
Are you asking if I killed him? Bo/Adrian asked calmly. I did not. He took a deep breath, then let it out. I came over here--I didn’t even know I was going to come out here, I just couldn’t settle until I’d made my peace with him. He shook his head. I was gone for nearly two decades and that hateful old fool still wouldn’t admit that he’d been wrong in the way he treated my and my mother.
So what happened, exactly? Annie took a seat on the couch across from Bo. She motioned for Rory to join her, and he did.
Like I said, I wasn’t planning to come over here. I just happened to hear about your place from a guy at a music store I go to a lot.
Mackey’s, Rory stated. Found your receipt in our secret tunnel.
Ah, yeah, he replied, nodding. I hadn’t been in there since I was a kid. I couldn’t sleep, it was like the second night I’d been at Rosewood Place, and I just couldn’t settle. His eyes glazed over a little. "I thought maybe a walk would be nice, but you’d already locked the place up for the night and I didn’t want to wake you.
I guess I need to apologize. It was chilly and I didn’t have a jacket with me. I borrowed your son’s jacket. I overheard you talking to that man, the Chief, about it. I guess I left it here the night I visited. I didn’t exactly leave in a great mood, and I wasn’t thinking straight.
What happened that night? Did you have a fight with your dad?
No, not really. I mean, he didn’t recognize me at first, but then again, I’ve changed a lot since I left home. He opened up the photo album and flipped through the pages. I put my high school photo here, in the back, he said, lifting the book to show Annie and Rory. It was the last photo, but not the last page. Frances LaRue hadn’t added any more photos, but he’d kept the photo album. Surely that meant he felt something for his family, didn’t it?
He asked me where I’d been, and then told me to get lost. Bo laughed. He hadn’t changed one bit, except he got older. And less frightening. He rubbed at his nose anxiously. I have been clean and sober for over fifteen years now. This, he said, gesturing around him, nearly pushed me right into using again.
You said you came here and he told you to leave, but did you see anybody else here? Rory prodded Bo, refusing to let him get off track.
No. It was just us, but then again, it was the middle of the night, so I doubt he’d have any visitors.
Joshua saw you, Annie interjected. He thought you were a ghost. She thought back to the day that Melody had checked in, which was a Wednesday. Did you come back here a second time?
Bo shook his head. Not until now, he answered. I didn’t want to leave this to Bobby and Uncle Samuel, he said, holding up the photo album. They don’t know the first thing about family. He spit out these last words like
they had a bad taste.
We came over here on Friday, Annie said suddenly. So anyone could have come over here on the Thursday. She didn’t speak the rest, but both Bo and Rory knew what she meant. Anyone could have come to the house and killed Frances.
21
The Death of Adrian LaRue
They walked back to Rosewood Place in near silence. As they reached the edge of the pond, Annie stopped. What should we call you?
Bo hesitated. Adrian LaRue died a long time ago. Bo Michaels is who I am now, and who I choose to be going forward.
Rory and Annie nodded their heads in silent recognition. You’re still going to have to talk to Emmett Barnes. He needs to know everything you told us, Rory reminded him. Aren’t you the least bit concerned that the police think your father’s death wasn’t an accident?
Bo clenched his jaw. Yeah, I am, but it’s not that straightforward. My father was the monster under my bed my whole life, and while I never would have wished him dead, I certainly won’t cry for him. Still, it burns me to think that someone could have just left him to die like that, in his own filth and all alone.
According to Melody, your cousin did try to help him out a few years ago, for what it’s worth. Maybe he isn’t as bad a guy as he seems. Annie didn’t really believe this, but if it helped Bo feel better about his crappy family, then it was worth telling him.
No, Bo admitted, he’s worse. Before my father blew up at me and told me to get lost, he told me that my cousin--the so-called ‘good guy’--came knocking just a few weeks ago. Dad said he brought some papers with him that Bobby told him were Power of Attorney papers for medical stuff. Despite my father’s personality flaws, he wasn’t stupid. He said the papers would have signed over ownership of his property to Uncle Samuel and Bobby, plus it would give them the ability to make decisions about my father’s care.
Do you think they were trying to run your father out of his home in order to get his land? Rory let out a low whistle. That’s a pretty heavy accusation, he added.
I don’t think anything. I know it. My father was a lot of bad things, but he wasn’t a liar. And contrary to what everyone thinks, he wasn’t crazy. He was mean, rotten down to his core in a lot of ways, but he wasn’t insane. Besides, he showed me a piece of paper that he claimed came from Uncle Samuel’s lawyer. I didn’t get a good look at it, he admitted, but the stationery logo was for some
one called Abernathy and Jones.
If this is true, Emmett needs to know, Annie said firmly. And you’re not going anywhere until we get this figured out. You can’t just run off to Nashville and leave your father’s death unsolved, especially if there is even a remote chance that your cousin had something to do with it.
Bo sighed. Honestly, just let him have the damned property. And he can burn the house down to the ground for all I care. In fact, I wish someone would. Going back there for this, he said, lifting the photo album, was almost more than I could stand. All those years of being screamed at, being hit, being told that I’m worthless--all that is harder to walk away from than my father’s dead body. I’m sorry, but it’s true.
Rory nodded slowly. I get it, man, I do. I mean, I can’t imagine what you went through. I was in prison for a while myself and I met some people there who told me stories like yours, about your childhood, I mean. But they didn’t pull themselves out of it. You did, and you deserve to get some proper closure out of all this. I just don’t think walking away is gonna give you that.
Annie was touched and surprised that Rory had shared such a difficult part of his past with Bo. Rory’s time in prison had been a result of a broken heart and a bar fight gone wrong, and it had definitely changed Rory, but not necessarily for the worse. If anything, Rory was the most peaceful, patient person Annie had ever known. He’d taken his lesson and learned it well, turning away from the violence and negativity that had put him in his predicament in the first place.
Bo didn’t ask Rory about his time in prison. He nodded once, then started walking again. I’ll talk to your Chief of Police, he said over his shoulder, but then I’m going back to Nashville and I’m not looking back.
Annie and Rory watched in silence as he made his way into the large plantation house. Well, I guess that solves the mystery of what happened to Adrian LaRue, Rory quipped.
Greed & Deadly Deceit Page 13
