by Stacy Green
“You coming?” Cage pulled his shirt off revealing the still red scar. It made butterflies ripple through her stomach every time she saw it, but it was also a reminder for everything she’d never realized she’d needed until she almost lost it.
Her mother would be proud.
And finally, Dani could allow her mother’s grip on her soul to ease. She was no longer the unsure child needing guidance or the frustrated adult stuck with taking care of an invalid mother. She was an independent woman who had to make her own choices. Her mother might not have agreed with all of them, but that was all right. It was time to let her go.
“D?”
She smiled at Cage standing naked in the bathroom doorway. “Yeah. Just make sure the water’s cold.”
“Crazy Yankee.”
“Good old Southern boy.”
THE END
Ashes and Bone
A Delta Crossroads Novel
by
Stacy Green
Copyright © 2014 Stacy Green
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without express written permission from the publisher. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover artwork by Melinda Van Lone at Book Cover Corner
Content Editing by Annetta Ribken
Copy Editing by Kristine Kelly
Proofreading by Julie Glover
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stacygreenauthor.com
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Praise for ASHES AND BONE
Stacy Green has once again demonstrated her mastery of words, painting a stunning picture of a hot and sultry Mississippi town and skilfully creating all the tension you could wish for in this clever mystery.
—Rachel Abbot, #1 Amazon Bestselling Author of Sleep Tight and The Back Road
Ashes and Bone, the final visit to Roselea, is a fast-paced whirlwind of a novel. Kidnapping, the Dixie Mafia, and Ms. Green’s usual cast of strong characters kept me turning the pages. What an explosive end to the Delta Crossroads Trilogy!
—Catie Rhodes (Author Peri Jean Mace Series)
For Rob.
who asked me to hold his drink seventeen years ago and changed my life.
1
JAYMEE
A distant rumbling, like the footsteps of a marching giant, made gooseflesh sprout on Jaymee’s sweaty arms. Shadows crept over her shoulders. She cast a cursory glance out of the master bedroom’s bay window. A wall of fat, menacing clouds approached from the north. Her stomach knotted. Time to wrap this up.
Skin gritty with dust and hands aching, she’d been battling with the antique chifforobe for the better part of ten minutes.
Jaymee huffed a piece of hair out of her face and glared at the piece of antique furniture occupying the corner of her bedroom. Half chest of drawers, half hanging closet, the chifforobe was stained with ghostly rings, remnants of objects that had sat on the top over the past century. She ran her fingers over the cracked base and wondered if her friend Dani would be able to fix it before the frame collapsed. Two musty-smelling, hand-sewn quilts sat on the bottom of the closet side, while the drawers stood empty except for the old contact paper lining them. She’d been told her great aunt purchased the chifforobe in 1910 out of the Sears Roebuck catalog. It was next on her list of items to have Dani restore, but the chances of the thing surviving today were slim.
“Damn you, open.” She yanked hard on the door. It had never stuck before, but it had been a humid week, unusual for this time of year. February in the Delta Crossroads of Mississippi was supposed to be nature’s calm before the spring storm. Plants pushed their way through the soil, and the trees budded with new life, but the invigorating smell of spring renewal made Jaymee feel restless.
Tourist season approached, and for some insane reason, Jaymee had decided to put Magnolia House on the Roselea Heritage Tour of Historic Homes. So like the rest of the town, she was head-deep in frenzied preparation for the affectionately coined “Yankee Invasion.”
A gust of wind rushed through the window, the sky’s angry growling increasing. Mutt shot up from his cushy spot on her bed and began to snarl.
Jaymee’s already frayed nerves hovered on the edge of pissing her pants. In just two weeks, she would open the doors to Magnolia House for the tour, and she felt petrified. The last thing she needed to deal with was a thunderstorm.
The stubborn door jiggled, teasing her, and then promptly snapped shut again.
“Mutt, bring me the hammer.”
He focused on the encroaching clouds, the tuft of thick hair at the back of his neck standing up.
“Why won’t the thing just frigging open?” She braced her feet and gave the knob another pull. The chifforobe rocked forward, and Jaymee teetered on her heels. For a split second, she thought she was going down and the antique with her. Then it righted itself and the door popped open, nearly smacking her in the face. The wooden knob remained in her hand.
“Shit.”
The door’s problem was obvious: a cardboard box sat on top of the quilts, wedged against the door hinges. “Where did that come from?”
She could hear her friends now. Cage would say the Magnolia House ghost was toying with her. Like most historical homes, Magnolia had its dark moments. Jaymee knew of the rumors one of her ancestors had hung himself in the 1850s after his wife died in childbirth. Naturally, her best friend Dani latched onto the story and wanted to research, but Jaymee put her foot down. Living mostly alone in the big house was enough. Creaks, pops, and breathy sighs in the wood were an everyday occurrence. Jaymee didn’t need confirmation of a nasty death to make her imagination worse.
Besides, she recognized the handwriting scrawled in red marker across the side. “Research.” Her boyfriend must have stuck the box in there and forgotten to tell her about it. Jaymee supposed she should mind her own business, but this was her house and her stuff, and she was never one to not snoop.
She expected to find papers, notes of gibberish only Nick could read. “What the hell is this?” She picked up a Ziploc bag and peered at it. Inside she saw several rusty items that looked like they’d recently been dug out of the dirt. They resembled buttons and possibly a belt buckle, along with a triangular piece of skinny metal she didn’t recognize. She played with the zipper, debating on looking closer. But opening the bag would likely mean taking pictures, which she’d then send to Dani, who’d call, and then they would end up on the phone for an hour. Jaymee really needed to keep working. Her personal D-Day was rapidly approaching.
As if someone had draped a thin blanket over the afternoon sky, the last rays of meager sunlight disappeared. Jaymee put the bag back in the box and hurried to the bay window in the center of the room. The northwest sky glowed with gray and foreboding clouds piling on top of each other as though they were in a wrestling match.
Fabulous. Another rumble of thunder sent the dog into a fit of barking. Mutt jumped off the bed and joined Jaymee at the window. Paws on the sill, he growled at the threatening storm.
“Settle down.” Jaymee patted his head. “Get your paws off the woodwork. And stay off my bed.”
Mutt gave another low growl and then promptly returned to the middle of her four-poster. He settled into his spot, head on his paws, and wagged his tail. She swore she could see the challenge in his mismatched eyes.
“I’m going to send you back
to the trailer park one day.”
He rolled over on his side, utterly unthreatened.
Her cellphone began to ring with her boyfriend’s ringtone. She jumped to answer it. “Hey. Speak of the devil.”
“Really?” Nick sounded out of breath. “Were you talking about me?”
“I was thinking of you.”
“Dirty thoughts, I hope.”
“Very dirty.” She dropped her voice low, pictured Nick’s excited face and held back a laugh. “Covered with it, in fact. Inside a plastic bag.”
“What?”
“Did you put a cardboard box of stuff in the chifforobe and forget to tell me?”
“Shit.” His playful tone evaporated. “Yes, I did. They’re Civil War artifacts. I bought them at that online store I told you about. I thought they’d be a good addition to the house for the tour, but I wanted to see if they were authentic first.”
Jaymee’s insides still twisted into knots every time she thought about opening up her inherited home for the first time to tourists. “We can have Dani look at them.”
“No.” Nick’s harsh response surprised Jaymee. “I mean, not yet. I’d like to find out a bit more about them first.”
“Okay,” Jaymee said. “Are you all right? You sound tense.”
He laughed, but it sounded stunted, bordering on fake. “Just a bit. I’m on my way to Roselea. Should be there in less than an hour, if the storm lets me. It’s followed me from Jackson. Sucker’s pretty bad.”
“It’s been creeping in on us all day.” The knot of nerves between her shoulders eased at the sight of seeing Nick. Holing up together sounded like the perfect way to forget about the Heritage Tour and strangers tromping around in her house. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming this weekend?”
“It’s an unplanned trip.”
A crack of thunder came through the speaker. “Jesus. Maybe you should pull over.”
“I may have to if the wind keeps up. But there’s no rain, so I can see. And yeah, things are okay. I just need to come down there.”
She knew the tone. Her brief giddiness bottomed out. “You’re working on a story.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because if you were coming to see me, you would have said that. I’m surprised your editor let you go.”
“I’m coming to see you too. I’ve just got to work on something while I’m there.”
She didn’t believe him. “See me is an afterthought.”
“That’s not true. You’re always on my mind.”
A familiar irritation prodded her. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this argument. When Nick caught a good story as a reporter for the Jackson Clarion Ledger, he latched on with the ferocity of a starving dog. Jaymee could tell he was sinking his teeth in again.
“How much will I actually see you?”
“Nearly the whole time.” His words sounded clipped. “Are we going to do this now, while I’m driving in a storm?”
Except he’d just said it wasn’t raining. She stowed that thought and went for a nastier remark. “I’m tired of being the weekend girlfriend. And now you’re bringing work too.”
“This is different, Jaymee.”
Right. It wasn’t the story Nick loved—it was the adrenaline rush of the chase, and that rush cost him his first marriage. Jaymee wasn’t sure he’d ever kick his addiction. And every time he started a new story, every time he had to reschedule a visit, Jaymee wondered if he even wanted to kick it.
Another round of thunder echoed over the line. He’s right. Now isn’t the time for this conversation.
“Fine. We’ll talk about everything when you get here. What are you working on?” She tried to keep her tone light, but she heard the edge. She braced herself for Nick’s retort.
“I can’t really talk about it over the phone, but I really want to discuss it with you.” He spoke with an urgency that dispelled her frustration. “I need your advice before I go any further with it.”
The fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled against a layer of dried sweat. “That doesn’t sound good. Does it have to do with anyone I know?”
“Not over the phone, honey. Shit.”
Worry pulsed through her. “What?”
“The lightning is bad, and the wind is really kicking up. I’m all over the road. I should go.”
“All right.” What the hell was he thinking, running down here with the storm coming? Was the story that big? “Be careful, please. Pull off if you need to.”
“I will.” Another crack of thunder from Nick’s phone. “Listen, I love you.”
The phone clicked off.
Bitter-tasting panic welled in her throat. She swallowed it down. Nick would be fine.
Mother Nature’s biological clock must be screwed up. Jaymee dug out her weather radio from beneath the bed. It’s too early in the season for storms. But this one sounded really bad, and from the increasing rumble and the nasty-looking sky, Roselea was in for it.
She turned on the radio, hoping the batteries were still good, and braced herself for the disembodied voice.
“A derecho struck Jackson at 12:09 p.m. and caused major damage to the city. The storm is producing winds up to ninety miles an hour along with severe thunderstorms. The storm is headed southwest and was spotted in Port Gibson ten minutes ago. We advise residents in Fayette, Roselea, and Natchez to take cover in a basement or shelter. To repeat…”
Jaymee’s stomach turned upside down. Derechos were the big daddies of storms, with straight-line winds and storms mixing together to make a great, long snake. The last one to hit Mississippi in 1998 caused millions of dollars of damage in Roselea and Natchez.
She needed to call Dani. Her friend was most likely stuck alone at Ironwood while Cage worked. Jaymee should have been paying more attention to the sky instead of fighting with the stupid chifforobe. She would have had enough time to get to Ironwood so she, Dani, and Mutt could ride out the storm together.
God, I wish Nick were here.
Thunder rolled again, louder this time. She snatched the radio. “Mutt, let’s get downstairs.”
Her feet pounded on the hardwood, matching her racing heart, as she hurried down the steps. A mix of old family pictures Jaymee had discovered and newer pictures—happy moments in her repaired life—decorated the once barren walls along the winding spiral.
Her favorite had been taken just two months ago. She and Nick snuggled together underneath Magnolia’s porch roof, the sunlight illuminating the picture so their faces had a shimmery, angelic quality. Nick had asked her, more than once, to move to Jackson. And some days she considered it. But even though most of her memories before last year were unpleasant, her pride clung to Roselea. She finally had something good in this town, and she’d already made enough heartbreaking sacrifices in her life. Why should she have to walk away from what made her happy?
She needed to shake off the pity party. Right now she should be worrying about Nick making it to her in one piece.
He would. He had to. He’d be here in less than an hour.
She closed her eyes, thinking of his sandy hair with the fine, early grays spreading through it. She pictured the lustful look that always ignited in his eyes when she ran out of the house to meet him. Every time, she’d throw herself into his arms and breathe him in. For a while, the issues faded away, replaced by physical bliss. Hours of it, usually. That’s exactly what would happen today. The storm would pass.
A whining and nervous Mutt followed her as she paced the rooms. He stopped every so often to check the windows. Jaymee dialed Dani’s number, knowing she had to be petrified. She answered immediately. “I’m in your driveway!”
Christ. Jaymee hurried to the door with Mutt at her heels. She flung open the door in time to see Dani racing from her truck toward the house.
“Have you heard what’s coming?” Dani’s eyes stared wide, pupils dilated. Her fair skin flushed more than normal, spotted with red. Mutt bolted past her to the
mansion’s wide porch, his scraggily tail sticking straight out from his ass. He barked frantically at the northwest horizon.
“Yes, I had the radio on. I can’t believe you drove into town.”
“I couldn’t stay at the house alone.” Dani’s hands shook so hard her keys jingled in a cadence matching her rapid speech. “This sucker took out an oil rig in the Gulf this morning and did serious damage to Jackson. It’s headed right for us.”
“Nick’s on his way here, racing the storm.”
Beneath the panic spots, Dani’s porcelain skin paled. Jaymee secretly envied her fair complexion and strawberry blond hair, its brightness a perfect match for Dani’s sometimes larger-than-life personality.
“The weatherman thinks it’s losing some steam, but it’s still capable of major damage.” Dani’s trembling words came almost as fast as the speed of sound. Jaymee was mostly used to her northern accent, but Dani was still hard to understand when she got excited. “And Jaymee, when I pulled up, the National Weather Service reported a small tornado off Highway 84 near Fayette.”
Jaymee’s knees went weak. “Nick always takes that route.”
2
Thunder boomed louder now, its force rattling the pictures on the walls. Then the wind attacked, a steady whoosh in the trees. She and Dani stood at the northwest window, watching as the live oak’s moss-covered limbs gracefully stretched, as though the old tree were greeting its dancing partner. The dance turned sinister. The whoosh flashed into a guttural groan, and the oak’s limbs flexed into a nearly impossible twist. A second later, the smallest limb ripped off and careened out of sight.
Mutt’s rapid fire barking brought Jaymee and Dani out onto the porch. The sight left Jaymee breathless and terrified. The distant wall of clouds she’d noticed less than half an hour ago was closing fast. Instead of normal thundercloud, the derecho consisted of three shelf-like layers, an ugly mixture of dark green and gray, each layer darker than the next. The bottom shelf was colored sooty black, like a pair of shoes dragged through a fireplace. Behind the clouds, she saw strikes of lightning, angry and fast. The wall stretched across the entire northern horizon, and as the women stood paralyzed, the wind doubled its velocity.
