Killing the Secret

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Killing the Secret Page 2

by Donna Welch Jones


  “Sheriff Wolfe here.”

  “This is Detective Johnson from Lasell, Washington. I’m calling about a body we’re transporting for burial in your town. Woman’s name is Terri Womack.” His words came out rapid fire in a low masculine voice.

  Lexie stammered momentarily then went silent as she processed the shock. Tears surfaced at the awful words the voice spoke.

  “Are you still there?” Johnson questioned.

  “I know Terri. How did she die?”

  “Murdered, by her husband, which is why I need your help. Some softhearted judge decided that the accused murderer should be allowed to attend his wife’s funeral. You know, just in case he killed her out of love and not loathing.” The sarcasm in his voice twisted Lexie’s stomach into a knot.

  “I know her husband. They were high school sweethearts.”

  “Well, there’s nothing sweet about them anymore—one dead and one in jail,” Johnson scoffed. “He was a fool to kill her. She was almost dead from cancer and he injected her with curare to finish her off fast.”

  “You think it was a mercy killing?”

  “Looks like it. But regardless, it’s still murder.” Johnson continued, “Anyway, I called to see if I can keep him in your jail for a couple of nights so I can escort him to the funeral.”

  “Sure,” Lexie agreed. “When can I expect you?”

  “Day after tomorrow”

  “See you then.” Lexie hung up.

  She dreaded telling Tye and Delia. Ronald and Terri graduated with Tye. Delia considered every kid born in Diffee a family member.

  Lexie’s worry time ended abruptly when the rattle of the office door signaled their return.

  “Tye, I just got a call from Washington. A Detective Johnson wants us to house his prisoner, Ronald Womack.”

  A look of disbelief came over Tye’s face. He moved to the window and stared into the distance.

  Lexie’s words followed him, “He’s being accused of murdering Terri. Likely, it’s a mercy killing.”

  “Ronald’s no murderer,” Tye’s voice cracked. “Maybe a heartbroken husband trying to help his dying wife, but not a killer.”

  “That’s right,” Delia’s voice squeezed out the words. “I’ll never forget watching him at the County Fair showing his goats. He stood proud beside his spiffed up goats waitin’ to see if he’d get a blue ribbon.”

  “Why’s Johnson bringing him here?” Tye’s words shot out with a spray of saliva.

  “So he can attend Terri’s funeral.”

  Tye turned from the window. “He’ll feel humiliated locked in jail in his home town.”

  “Better that,” Delia disagreed, “than to miss his wife’s funeral. I’ll bring a good quilt and pillow from home for the cell cot, and cook chicken and dumplings for him.”

  “I’m going to clear up this mess!” Tye’s conviction was evident in his voice tone.

  Lexie wondered how Johnson would react to all this TLC for his accused murderer.

  Chapter Four

  “Hallelujah, praise the Lord!” The preacher shouted. His voice bounced off the rafters of the converted barn and soaked into the sinners below.

  “Hallelujah,” echoed the preacher’s wife, Tina, and the rest of the congregation. They called out to her husband from hard wooden benches that faced him and an eight-foot metal cross.

  Gavin’s shirtsleeves were rolled up. A circle of sweat under each arm gave evidence that the man was putting much energy into his work. He brushed back a lock of brown hair from his forehead, raising an arm in praise of his maker.

  “I’m not here as Gavin Smith, the man. I’m here as Gavin Smith, God’s servant. He called me to preach as He’s calling each of you to join his army of believers. LISTEN, not to your own voice, not to the voices of your boss, or your friends, or to the sinners of the world, but to God’s voice. Rise up and come forward to seek His joy, His glory, and His love.” Gavin’s words seemed to pull people from their seats and they walked down the aisle toward him.

  It was easy for Tina to slip out the back door. She knew she had at least a couple of hours while her husband prayed with the newly saved. She’d meet with Bud and be in bed before Gavin got back to the motel.

  “Come if you haven’t come before. Come if you need to start over again.”

  I’ve already started over, Tina thought, as she walked toward her car. I don’t want to do it again.

  “COME FOLLOW JESUS! He will lead you on this earth and when your life is done HE WILL LEAD YOU STRAIGHT TO HEAVEN! Come to me and let me introduce you to my Jesus.”

  Gavin’s words followed her to the car. Rolling up the window finally shut out the call to sinners. She was one sinner who had no desire to confess to Gavin Smith. Driving toward the park, her only purpose was to get Bud out of her life forever. His phone call yesterday brought back old memories.

  “I need to talk to you,” the voice said.

  “Who’s this?” Tina asked.

  “Surely you haven’t forgotten an old friend from Diffee.”

  “Bud, is that you?”

  “It is and I’ve come a long way to see you. Let’s meet tonight at Bluebird Park. It won’t be the same as Diffee Park, but it’ll still bring back memories.”

  “I’d love to, but I can’t. This is the first night of my husband’s revival and I’ve got to be there.”

  “I know you can miss one sermon for an old friend,” Bud pleaded.

  “No, I can’t. I’m a different person now. I’ve been saved. I can’t look back at my past without remembering the sins I committed.”

  “You will meet me,” he ordered.

  “I told you, I can’t.”

  “Here’s the deal, my dear friend. Either you meet me or I’ll tell your preacher husband that he married a whore. I’ll enlighten him as to why you were voted friendliest girl in your senior class.”

  “Why would you do that? I thought we were friends.”

  “Give me a few minutes then I’ll never bother you again.”

  Tina yielded to the bully, “I’ll be there around nine.”

  Bud hung up without reply.

  Better here than at home. Being away because of the revival was an advantage. She didn’t know anyone who might identify her as being at the park. After pulling in near the picnic area she checked the locks on her car doors for the third time. She visually examined the wooded area that surrounded the park. A lone light cast shadows on the children’s play equipment.

  She was impatient for Bud to arrive even though she knew she was early. Part of Tina wanted to see him, but over the last few hours her anger grew due to his bossiness over the phone. She resolved to tell him what she thought of his attitude. After all, she wasn’t the only one who had dirty secrets to tell.

  A March night, twenty years ago, was forever imbedded in Tina’s memory. There were eight senior girls sitting around a campfire. They were eating, laughing, talking, drinking beer, and celebrating the best day of their lives. The night before they’d won the Oklahoma Girls Basketball Championship.

  The Diffee newspaper dubbed them the “Extraordinary Eight” after they won their first six games of the season. They were the darlings of Diffee, Oklahoma, a small town that never had anything to cheer for before, or since, that year. The town locked up on Friday nights so everyone could watch their darlings play basketball. A Tulsa television station did a segment on the Friday night basketball ghost town. A national station picked up the story and the girls became small time celebrities. Little kids asked for their autographs and old people patted their backs and told them how proud they were. Team parents basked in the glory of having daughters who were local heroines.

  Tina thought that the eight were really not that extraordinary. This included Loretta, Abbey, Heather, Beth, Jamie, Terri, Mariah Rose, and even herself.

  Loretta, a bottle blonde, was a blooming bitch at seventeen. Sharp tongued and conceited, her only positive attributes were her tall lean body and free throw shootin
g.

  Abbey was the peacekeeper. She was always trying to mediate the arguments. Her bobbed brunette curls topped a five-foot-three-inch frame that moved around the court so fast that six footers fell over her.

  Heather was redheaded and gorgeous. She was homecoming queen, class president, and any other title that was worth having. Not to mention her uncanny ability to get spectators at the ball games so hyped up that the opposing teams felt they were up against a few hundred people.

  Beth was the kind and gentle one. Her hair was white-blonde and her skin pale. She never was allowed to play defense because she didn’t have enough fight in her, but she could hit long shots.

  Jamie was the one with the fight. She was almost six feet tall, lean, and muscular. The only child of the team coach, she’d been raised to be tough and aggressive. They called Terri the thief, because she could slip her hand between the ball and the opposition on a dribble and leave the player angry and frustrated behind her.

  Tina saw herself as the weak link on the team. She was good at defense, but a poor shot, so if she ever needed to shoot the ball it generally didn’t end well.

  Mariah Rose joined the team senior year when her father, Sean, moved back to his deceased parents’ house in Diffee. Mariah was shy, or snobbish, depending on who was doing the judging. Sean told Tina his daughter was still in grieving over her mother’s sudden death from a heart attack a year prior to her brother Michael drowning. The grief didn’t keep her from tossing the ball in the net. She was the second best scorer after Jamie.

  Tina’s mind returned to the present when an approaching car spotlighted her location.

  Chapter Five

  The gravel crackled beneath Bud’s tires as he drove into the parking area. His car lights shone on the only vehicle in sight. As he walked toward Tina, he watched her get out of the car and lean against the door.

  “Hello,” he said.

  “Hi,” she replied, her anger dissolving. “You sure sounded bossy on the phone.”

  “I’m sorry, but I had to say something to see you again.”

  “It’s okay,” Tina said. “What did you want to tell me?”

  “I wanted to tell you good-bye.” Bud grabbed her hand.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m not going anywhere. You, however, are on your way to heaven or hell, depending on how forgiving your God is.” His left hand took a fistful of blouse at her throat.

  “Oh, God…No!”

  He felt the rage of her small fists against his back, then a boney knee shot up between his legs. Planting his feet solidly on the ground, he showed no reaction to her struggles. He grabbed her arm with his right hand and stuck the needle into her forearm, releasing the curare. She fell to the ground. He watched as her body writhed. Fingernails dug into the dirt for only seconds before her body turned blue from the loss of oxygen.

  Bud turned and walked away. “Two down and five to go.”

  Chapter Six

  Lexie, Tye, and Delia watched from the office window as Johnson and Ronald walked up the sidewalk. Lexie glanced at faces staring from the front of Dixie’s restaurant, across the street.

  “Goodness, why does he have him handcuffed?” Delia nervously twisted an escaped strand of long grey hair from her bun.

  “He doesn’t need to,” Tye scowled. “He’s an asshole!”

  “That’s enough.” Lexie’s glare focused on Tye. “Johnson sees Ronald as a murderer, not a good old boy from town.”

  Tye clamped his lips into an angry line. “I’ll be back.” He stomped out the back door as Ronald and Johnson came in the front.

  “I’m Stan Johnson,” announced the detective.

  “I’m Lexie Wolfe. This is Delia, our dispatcher and secretary.”

  “This is the prisoner.” Johnson pointed as if referring to an object.

  Ronald stood silently with downcast eyes. His body leaned forward making his bald spot the most visible part of his head.

  “Yes, I know Ronald. My brother, Tye, went to high school with him.”

  Delia walked toward Ronald. “My dear, dear boy. I’m so sorry about Terri.”

  Ronald tried to speak but only a sob came out, then another and another. Delia wrapped her soft thick arms around his slender frame. His body curved over as he bent down to cry on her shoulder.

  “Pitiful,” Johnson shook his head in disgust. “Any place I can stay in town?”

  “There’s a motel a mile east,” Lexie answered against the background of Ronald’s now quieter sobs. “I’m sure you’ve had a tiring trip so I’ll take over.”

  “I can’t leave until he’s locked up.”

  “That’s easy enough. Ronald, get in the cell,” Lexie directed.

  Delia kept hold of his arm and accompanied him. She patted the multi-colored quilt and Ronald immediately lay down like an obedient puppy. “Rest here,” she said softly.

  Delia hesitantly left Ronald’s side and Lexie closed the cell door.

  Johnson checked the door. “I’ll be here in the morning around ten, sooner if you’ll let me buy you breakfast.”

  “Nine-thirty works,” Lexie responded. She felt Delia’s disapproving look as Johnson walked out the door.

  “That guy doesn’t have a heart,” Delia blurted. “Hard to believe a man that handsome can be so mean.”

  “Just doing his job,” Lexie said flatly.

  She didn’t respond to Delia’s comment about Johnson’s looks. However, she was sure that she’d never, in her thirty-one years, seen a man who looked that good. He was probably five foot ten, blond hair, green eyes, and a body that appeared to be in perfect physical condition. She didn’t usually gawk at men, but it was difficult not to stare at Stan.

  Chapter Seven

  The door slammed behind Tye, rocking the old birdhouse that hung in the tree outside the office. His lips were locked and his head pounded with the words he didn’t say. His kid sister reprimanding him about some joker she didn’t know, added to the news about Ronald, was too much.

  He got in the patrol car and drove back and forth on Main Street hoping for a jaywalker or speeder on whom he could take out some of his anger. What a joke! His life had evaporated into vengeance against someone who didn’t use a crosswalk. Every day he asked himself why he was still in Diffee and the answer was always the same. Lexie wouldn’t go on with her life until Dad’s killer was locked up. Tye was a captive to her obsession. He wondered where they’d each be if it had never happened. Lexie might have three kids and he’d be somewhere else. That’s where he was going after Dad’s killer was caught—anywhere else. Finally, he forced himself back to the office to face boss sister and Ronald.

  Chapter Eight

  Ronald was eating chicken and dumplings when Tye returned. He reached out his hand to shake Ronald’s—then quickly got to the point. “What happened?”

  “I could never kill Terri.”

  “Ronald, you got to be straight with me. I understand that a man wants to keep the people he loves from suffering.”

  “I just told you. I didn’t kill her,” Ronald’s voice was raspy with irritation. “As soon as I walked in the door I saw how blue she looked and I yelled for help.”

  “Is there anyone who can verify that you walked in the room just prior to yelling?” Lexie questioned.

  “There was a tall guy with a gray beard and toupee. He ignored me when I tried to make eye contact with him.”

  “Why do you remember him?” Lexie’s brow furrowed.

  “Because I was going to signal that his toupee was crooked. After he acted like such a snob I didn’t care if he looked like a fool.”

  “Any idea of what room he came out of? That guy may be your alibi,” Tye reasoned.

  “There were half a dozen possibilities.”

  “Private rooms?” Lexie asked.

  “Yes,” Ronald nodded.

  “That means one of six people who he was visiting.”

  “No,” Ronald corrected, “one of five. Te
rri was in one of those rooms.”

  “You better not be jacking with us,” Tye’s voice went from kind to suspicious. “If you did this, you need to man up and not send us on a wild goose chase.”

  “I’m not lying. A better man would’ve helped her die, but I was too selfish. Every minute she was alive was one more minute she was mine.” The words came quickly out of Ronald’s mouth as if trying to escape before emotion gagged him.

  “We’ll get you out of this.”

  Lexie grimaced at Tye’s promise. She knew handsome Stan wasn’t going to appreciate interference in his case.

  Chapter Nine

  Heather thought about dying as she drove her old jeep across the metal bridge. It’d be easy to turn the wheel sharply to the left. She saw the car in her mind, smashing through the metal barrier and diving headlights first into the river. She visualized the car going downward. Water surrounded her red hair. Each strand floated like a tentacle of blood around her head. The water crept through the windows and replaced all her oxygen. Her life, thankfully, would be over. She wondered if her cheating ex-husband would bring his twenty-something girlfriend to the funeral.

  A memory hit her brain like lightening and her words spewed out, “Oh shit, sonofabitch! I haven’t taken his name off my life insurance policy. I’ll be damned if he and his little whore princess are going to get fifty thousand dollars off me.”

  Fearful that she’d tempted fate with her imaginings, she slowed down and firmly gripped the wheel.

  Heather walked into Dr. William’s office twenty minutes late. She flopped down on the overstuffed leather chair that faced his desk and tried to avoid his disapproving eyes.

  “We only have forty minutes to talk, Heather. Why are you so late?”

  “I was contemplating driving my car off a bridge.”

  “That’s interesting. What stopped you?”

  “I realized that I haven’t changed the beneficiary on my insurance. DA Lave has so many friends at the police department they’d call it an accident instead of a suicide in order to fill his wallet.”

 

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