Stella turned to the kitchen. “She’ll be here tomorrow. She’s already moving things around. Look.” The kitchen floor was covered in collapsed boxes.
“We should probably leave before dawn, then,” Dane said. “Might as well take one of those and get the things you were wanting.”
Stella retrieved an already-assembled box from the counter. “Can you find all the Johnny Mathis records? They are on the bookshelf in the living room.”
“Will do.” He took the box and returned to the darkened room, shining his key light around until he found a small lamp. He brought it to the floor and covered the top with a book to keep the light low.
The records were easy to locate and pack. He sat back on the floor, wondering where Stella was, and if she wanted to be alone or if he should find her. A clock ticked in the silence. Finally, he got up to see where she might be.
He almost didn’t notice her, sitting on the floor on the far side of a great flowery bed in what had to be Angie’s room. She’d tied the drapes closed and turned on the bedside lamp. Her head was down, so he could only see her blond hair cascading to her shoulders over the green shirt.
“Stella?”
She looked up at him. “I found something.”
He lay across the bed, immediately feeling better, the relief of resting. “What?”
She laid a bracelet in front of him, beads strung on two wires.
“It’s pretty.”
“I’ve never seen it, and I saw everything of Grandma’s.”
“What do you think it’s for?”
She pointed to several colored bits. “These are love beads.”
“Okay.”
“But these aren’t the colors she used for Grandpa.”
“So some other love.”
“Exactly. But why these bright ones? Yellow and orange? They weren’t colors she ever wore.”
The roses. He remembered the flowers in front of Joe’s house. “They were for Joe.”
“What?”
“He planted roses for her. Yellow and orange. He told me, the day I came to see you before the funeral.”
Stella ran her finger along the beads. “I see it now. A strand of yellow and orange. For him. And the love beads. For her.” She looked up at him. “Oh, Dane. They never got to be together.”
She came up and onto the bed then, shivering. They lay together, the bracelet between them. He clasped it around her wrist, beside the other one, with three strings. “You make bracelets too?”
“It’s yours,” she said. “I made this one for you.” She fingered the triple strand.
“You did?”
“It was—” She touched the beads. “It was the last one Grandma and I did together. The day after the night on the tower.”
Dane lifted her arm and kissed the bracelets. “You knew already.”
“I was delusional.” She tried to laugh.
“You were right. What do our colors mean?”
She pointed to the wood beads. “Calmness. Gentleness.” Then to the brighter ones. “Danger. Recklessness.”
He chuckled. “What about the middle?”
“Those are for me.”
He fitted her even closer against him.
“I’m so tired,” Stella said. “Tired of everything.”
“We can sleep for a bit.” Dane also felt himself shifting down. It had been a long time since they had rested, really rested. “We have to wait on your car anyway.”
“We can’t sleep all night. I still have to gather some things.”
“We won’t. I’ll listen for the car.”
“Vivian will be here in the morning.”
“We’ll be gone.”
She settled back down against him. “Just for a little while, then.”
“Shhhh.”
He knew he shouldn’t fall asleep, that Vivian discovering them would make Stella even more upset.
He awoke to a loud insistent banging on the front door, and the shouts of “Police! Open up!”
26
Arrest
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STELLA startled awake. “What was that?” She jumped out of bed and yanked at the curtains. Still dark outside, but the first signs of dawn were beginning to show in the grayness over the rooftops.
The banging came again. “You have thirty seconds to open this door, or we’ll break it in!”
Stella peered harder at the backyard. One of the deputies stood beside Dane’s motorcycle. The stone they’d used to break the window was at his feet.
She closed the drapes. “Shit. Vivian’s called her ex. She’ll probably try to get you arrested for breaking and entering.”
Dane jumped off the bed. “I’ll go talk to them.”
“No,” Stella said. “I’ll handle it. This is my house too. Vivian’s not going to get anywhere. Please stay back here.”
Stella rushed to the entryway. “Stop it!” she shouted. “I’m here. I’m opening the door.”
But when it swung open, the man on the porch wasn’t the sheriff she knew, the one Vivian liked to cart around. “Who are you?”
“I’m Sheriff Dunning. I’m looking for Dane Scoffield.”
She knew it. “You realize I’m the one who broke into my own house.”
“Ma’am, this is a felony charge.”
“What? Since when is breaking your own window a felony?”
“Is Dane Scoffield here?”
Dane turned the corner and came into the entryway. “I am.”
“Dane! I asked you not to come up!”
“I think there’s more to it than us being here, Stell.”
The sheriff stepped inside, followed by another officer holding handcuffs.
Stella felt faint and explosive simultaneously. “What are you arresting him for?”
“The charges will be announced by the judge at his arraignment within 48 hours of his arrest,” the sheriff said. “Please turn around.”
Dane turned his back to them to be cuffed.
Stella walked around to his front. “I’ll be there, baby. I’ll make Vivian call it off.”
He kept his eyes on the floor, shaking his head.
She bent down to look him in the face. “You think this is about Bobby Ray?”
“The boy is dead.” The voice came from the kitchen. Stella moved to the doorway and saw her mother examining the lock. “Figures I couldn’t keep that delinquent out.” Vivian shut the door. “Bobby Ray died last night at County from swelling in his brain.” She grasped Stella’s arm. “You’re coming with me. I’ve had cops swarming my house since 5 a.m., looking for you two.”
“I’m sure you didn’t mind that, with your taste for the badge.”
Vivian slapped her flat across the cheek. The sound echoed in Stella’s ears, reverberating. “Mother, I already left you. You can stop acting like a parent.”
“You will come home with me. And you will stay away from that man.” She tried to grab Stella, but Stella fought hard and got free.
“Don’t touch me, Mother. If I have it my way, I will never see you again.”
The sheriff was reading off something to Dane. Stella ran back to him. “I’ll see you very soon. Okay?”
But Dane stared at the ground, resigned, it seemed, to whatever happened.
“Dane! Look at me!”
He lifted his head, so defeated that Stella couldn’t stand it. “I will stand by you on this. You hear?” The sheriff stopped his droning, and the deputy tugged on the cuffs, pulling Dane back.
Dane swallowed and turned toward the porch. The sheriff led them to a squad car, opening the back door and pushing down on Dane’s head to force him in.
Stella ran into the yard, grateful to see the Mustang out front. Nick had brought it, and they hadn’t even noticed.
Several neighbors were standing on their porches in robes, holding their papers. The sun was just cresting the horizon to the east. Stella watched the car as it pulled away from the curb and into the street. She
looked down at her T-shirt. She had to change, dress in something more suitable, get down to the jail. She had money. She would get Dane out on bail. And she’d never speak to her mother again.
Part Two: Separation
27
Bail Bonds
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STELLA examined her reflection in Beatrice’s bathroom mirror. Long black skirt, silky white blouse, pearlized twister beads. All respectable. She teased her hair a little less than usual and kept the eye shadow to shades of gray.
Beatrice’s voice still droned in the hall, where she kept her telephone on a little combination table and chair, talking to bail bondsmen. It was all so complicated, cashier’s checks and not knowing how much bail would even be.
She stepped through the door, watching Beatrice’s head bob as she listened. “Yes, he was arrested this morning. No, I’m not sure when the arraignment will be.”
She nodded at Stella and covered the mouthpiece. “I’ve got one. He’s going to check when Dane is most likely to go before the judge for bail. Dane’s the only one in there as far as he can tell, so it will either be at eleven or at three.”
One good thing about Holly, Stella guessed. It held its own courthouse, a tiny jail with two cells, and Dane wouldn’t have to sit around waiting his turn to be released. “Does he know the judge?”
She shook her head. “Didn’t ask. But Betty Wainsfield works up there as a clerk. We can call her next.”
Stella’s stomach iced over. “But Betty is Bobby Ray’s aunt.”
“Used to be,” Beatrice corrected. “She was married to Bobby Ray’s no-good uncle. But she left him a couple years ago. Bad blood there. She’s nice enough. Don’t worry.”
But Stella did worry. Surely Dane’s lawyer would move the trial. No way could they be fair in Holly.
Beatrice uncovered the mouthpiece. “Yes? This afternoon? Okay. We’ll be there.” She hung up. “It’ll be at three.”
“Do we need to find him a lawyer?”
“Mooner said Dane was already holed up with the public defender.”
“Mooner?”
“The bondsman.”
Stella didn’t know anyone who went by Mooner. “Is that going to be good enough? Shouldn’t we get him his own lawyer?”
Beatrice flipped through the tiny Holly phone directory, the size of an Avon catalog. “There’s Rick Pierce we could call local. I’m sure there’s tons in Branson who’d take the case.”
Stella braced herself against a wall, still feeling achy and sore from the motorcycle crash. “How do we know what to do?”
Beatrice shoved herself to standing and enveloped Stella in a Chanel-drenched hug. “Let’s see how the arraignment goes. Besides, Dane or Ryker might have already called someone in. We don’t know anything.”
“I don’t think I can stand around all day,” Stella said. “I’ll go crazy. Can we just hang out at the courthouse, see what news we can get?”
“Okay, Stella. Let me finish getting myself together. Bring a book or something. You’ll really go crazy if you just sit up there with nothing to do.”
*
Beatrice had been right. After an hour sitting on a hard bench outside the lone courtroom door, Stella was going crazy, pacing the hall, pausing constantly to listen and see if anything was happening inside. Only a hungover drunk had been dragged in for the 11 a.m. session, and he’d been sent home. Otherwise, people with parking fines or speeding tickets came and went, going up to the window to pay or arrange for defensive driving. The deputies had been busy earning their paychecks. Without a car, Stella had almost never run into them, although Janine had been stopped a time or two.
“I’m going to walk over to the shop,” Beatrice said. “It’ll stay closed, but I just want to check to see if I missed any deliveries.”
Stella plunked back down on the bench. “You don’t have to be stuck here with me.”
“I’m glad to.” Beatrice pushed herself up, rubbing her rump. “Everyone knows where to find me if they need me. Not like there is ever a perfume emergency.”
“I know I should go, get away from here. But I just can’t.” Stella leaned her head back against the wall, staring up at the dusty false ceiling above, its dirty rectangles no longer white.
“I understand that, sweetpea. Don’t think twice about it. Your whole life is on the line here. I get that.” Beatrice swept her purse up from the bench. “I’ll be right back. Should I bring you something to eat?”
“No. I couldn’t. I’m in knots.” The very thought of food made her stomach lurch.
“Maybe some juice, then. I’ll be back. Maybe I’ll try to get in touch with Joe. See if Ryker came to work. He should be here.” Beatrice waddled toward the massive front doors, surrounded by stone. The grand entry fell quiet, the marble floor gleaming, a bird perched in the windowed arch above the doors. Typewriter keys clacked from some distant desk behind the glassed-in counter, now empty.
Dane. She closed her eyes and tried to conjure him. On the tower, behind her. Kneeling beside Grandma’s bed. Curling her into him on his sheet-covered sofa. In the woods. The phone booth. Breaking the window. But the other scene kept coming forward, his hands, holding that barstool, shoving it hard forward, into Bobby Ray’s face. The way Bobby Ray fell, straight back, blood streaming everywhere.
If only she’d never taken Grandma’s car to the garage, never tried to get herself between Dane and Darlene. She was a part of this, the whole turn of horrible events. And now Bobby Ray was dead. She remembered suddenly his fifth-grade picture in the yearbook. Before he’d gotten all weird and nasty, bullying kids and popping girls’ bras, cornering them and trying to make them kiss him. She’d actually drawn a heart around his picture, his cute smiling face, like he was somebody she might love.
What had changed him after that year, led him into the man he had become, the one who would stick a knife in a stranger over a woman who didn’t want him? She ought to know. Everybody in Holly knew what warped everybody else. But the town must still hold some secrets.
Her stomach burned so hot and sick that she felt sure she’d throw up in the potted plant by the bench. She gulped air, trying to figure out if she could make it to the restroom or should just sit tight.
The door opened, and Darlene came in, clutching her mother. Stella wanted to hide somewhere, but they saw her. “You little whore,” the mother said. “You little bitch.”
A man in a suit followed close behind. “In here, ladies,” he said, holding open the door to the courtroom. “We can wait inside.”
Stella stood. They could go in now? But the man closed the door behind them, so she plunked back down. She didn’t want to go in there alone, with them and their sobs and their taunts. But they were right. She was the whore and the bitch. And even though Bobby Ray was an asshole and had something coming, he didn’t deserve to die.
Maybe she should go in and apologize or something. She smoothed her skirt but knew she couldn’t do it. They didn’t want to see her. They wanted to hate her, and she’d have to let them.
Beatrice pushed through the doors again, this time with her own man. He wore a rumpled suit that didn’t fit, gray with prominent white pinstripes, something her father might have worn decades ago. His blue socks were electric in white shoes.
“This is Mooner,” Beatrice said, clearly displeased. “Found him in the parking lot. He’ll be ready to post the bond."
“My fee is ten percent,” Mooner said. “I’ve never seen the judge do more than $100,000 bail, but if he does, that’s ten grand you’ll need. You got that?”
“I got that,” Stella said. It would wipe her out, years and years of saving to leave Holly, but she had it.
“It won’t be that bad,” Beatrice said. “They might even let him out on his own recognizance.”
“Don’t bet on that,” Mooner said, hitching up the back of his pants, revealing more blue sock. “They had quite a search for him, and they’ll want to make sure he don’t run.�
�
“Will you being here make the judge feel better?” Stella asked.
Mooner rocked back on his heels. “You bet. Never lost a man. Nobody jumps on my bonds.”
Stella wondered why a man who could command that kind of money dressed so poorly.
A deputy came out the door of the courtroom. “You may come in. Mooner, you carrying?”
Mooner lifted a pants leg to reveal a pale calf encircled with a black strap and a Colt revolver. He tugged the gun out and handed it to the deputy. “Right-e-o,” he said. “Don’t lose it!”
The deputy dropped the gun in a bag and stepped back to let them inside.
The courtroom only had three small rows of benches, then the two tables for the lawyers, and a couple rows of chairs to one side for a jury. It was empty except for Darlene, her mother, and the man in the suit. The women were boohooing into linen handkerchiefs. Despite living all her life in Holly, this was one place Stella had never been. She would have been perfectly happy to leave without ever seeing it.
Beatrice held tight to Stella. “You’ll be fine,” she said. “Let’s sit over here.”
They chose a spot farthest from the others. The cushion was a great relief after the hard seat outside. Air conditioning blasted them from the ducts set in another false ceiling. Stella kept watch on a side door, where she guessed they’d bring Dane in.
A large clock above the judge’s bench ticked loudly. The other women quieted down, and they waited. Three o’clock came and went, and Beatrice shifted uncomfortably on the bench. Finally, the same deputy entered the room from the side door, taking a position near the front to stand guard. “Will he be the bailiff?” Stella asked.
“Probably,” Beatrice whispered. “Everyone pulls double duty around here.”
The door popped open again, and this time, Dane came through first, followed by one of the deputies from that morning, pushing him forward. Stella’s heart clenched. He wore slate-blue scrubs and had clearly been washed down. His hair lay flat against his head, and without his jeans and black shirts and chain, he looked more all-American boy than edgy biker. She didn’t care. He was still beautiful, even more so in his vulnerability.
Tangled: A New Adult Romance Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle of Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Royalty) Page 127
