by Kym Roberts
We talked for well over an hour, both personal and professional. Only once being interrupted by another detective who asked to speak to Youngblood in the hall. When he returned, we finished my statement and I signed the nine-page document.
“When will you be returning to Denver?” he asked.
“Denver?” I hadn’t thought about going home, but suddenly it looked like I’d better make plans.
“Yeah. The DA will want to know how to reach you.”
“I guess I’ll be here a couple days.” I thought of my job. If I didn’t return on Monday, I’d be looking for a new one. “I’ll probably head back on Sunday.” Which felt way too soon.
“Okay. Sounds good. I’ll let her know.” Detective Youngblood put my statement inside a manila folder, and I knew he was getting ready to escort me out. But something still nagged at me about the case.
“Why didn’t they find Coach’s DNA on the belt?” I asked.
“There’s still that unknown DNA we need to find a match for.” Detective Youngblood leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his coffee. He peered over his cup as if he was waiting to see if I’d give a truthful answer.
Confessing was harder than I thought. “I think I may know whose DNA you should test.”
“Oh?” He set down his cup and folded his hands across his belly. He wasn’t a big man, but you could tell his cookie jar was taking a toll on the buttons of his shirt. He waited for me to respond.
Pushing through the heat that was warming my face, I told him the truth. “It probably belongs to my high school boyfriend. He . . . he liked to play with my belt.”
Detective Youngblood’s smile told me he knew exactly what type of playing I was talking about. His dark brown eyes twinkled, and I saw just how attractive he could be.
“The mayor gave a DNA sample about a half hour ago. That’s why Detective Wilson interrupted your statement. It turns out Coach had on his work gloves, which would account for the slivers of wood we found on the belt and the victim.” He stood up, letting me know it was time to go.
“The mayor was here?” I hadn’t heard his voice, but I was glad Cade had shown up.
“Yup. He heard about the arrest and came down right away.”
“Oh.” We walked toward the front of the office, passing two other detectives in identical cubicles along the way.
“I’ll have a uniform take you home.”
“Is the mayor still here by any chance?” I asked, hoping to thank him for everything.
“No, he left a while ago.”
“And my dad—will he be released?”
“The sheriff and the mayor spoke to the judge and got your dad released as soon as Coach started confessing. The mayor took your father to Marlene Duncan’s gravesite.”
I nodded, disappointed that I couldn’t be the one to take him home, but I knew it was probably for the best.
We walked upfront to where a uniformed officer waited. I shook Detective Youngblood’s hand. “Thank you for everything. If you bring your kids by The Book Barn Princess before Sunday, I’ll be sure to give them a tour of our new kids’ sections. They’ll love it.”
“I just may do that.” Detective Youngblood turned and disappeared through the door and I walked out a free woman, despite the uniformed escort.
I couldn’t help but think of the sheriff when the officer opened the passenger door. He was young and stiff and reminded me a lot of what I thought his boss would have been like at twenty-one. Polite, brisk, and buff, ready to conquer the world.
I was extremely grateful he didn’t put the palm of his hand on the top of my head as I bent over to get in the front seat.
The drive to the bookstore was quick and uneventful. The sun had disappeared into the horizon and I was surprised to see that it was after eight o’clock according to the dashboard clock. Cookies and soda weren’t exactly dinner, but by the time we made it to Hazel Rock, the diner was closed and I was in no mood to cook.
I thanked the deputy for the ride and walked across the stone pavers of the courtyard. The Book Barn Princess was dark; only the exterior light above my mom’s gate was on. The gate creaked softly like a welcome home as I went through while frogs serenaded me from down by the river.
I let myself in the apartment, half-expecting, half-hoping my dad would be there along with Princess. They weren’t. The place was quiet and lonely. I waited up for a while, wondering if he would come home, but by nine-thirty it was obvious he wasn’t. I called my cousin Jamal and told him the entire story. He said, “Get. Out,” at least ten times before we hung up with the promise to talk again the next day. Disappointed my dad wasn’t coming home and exhausted beyond belief, I did the only thing I could think of and went straight to bed.
The next morning, I woke up to the bright rays of the sun reflecting off the mirror on the armoire and striking me in the face. Squinting, I rolled over and looked at the alarm clock.
Nine-fifteen. The bookstore should have opened fifteen minutes ago.
I jumped out of bed, grabbed my last pair of clean cutoffs and a T-shirt that still had the bookstore price tag under the arm, and ran for the shower. Five minutes later I was dressed, with body cream soaking in my skin and my curls loose around my face. I looked in the mirror to see if I looked somewhat presentable and decided I really liked the message on my T-shirt: Leave the Drama on the Pages. It was the perfect mind-set for a day like today.
I grabbed my keys and ran for the door. Locking it behind me, I took the steps several at a time and realized for the first time that morning that it felt really good to be alive. Especially when I looked up and saw my mom’s sign had been rehung. I ran and jumped up to tap Eve’s gate with my fingertips, “Good morning, Mom,” I whispered.
Going through the gate, I paused and thought of Marlene. Only my dad knew if she was planning to steal the books out from underneath his nose, and I got the feeling he’d never tell—never dampen the town’s love for a woman who’d taken another path.
Feeling my mood darken a bit, I unlocked the side door and was greeted by Princess squeaking at my feet.
“Well, there you are. I was wondering where you went off to last night,” I said to the little rodent standing on her hind legs with her ears twitching at top speed.
“Good morning, Princess.” His deep, musical voice made me jump straight up in the air. The little armadillo at my feet did the same. She, however, was frightened by my squeak and not by the man I’d always loved. The man who’d sacrificed so much for my success and gotten so little in return.
He was behind the counter, sitting in his leather chair with a book spread open in his hands. He was wearing a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up that looked like every other one I’d seen him wear in my childhood. So many years had passed, but in his eyes I saw the younger man I’d depended on every day of my life.
“Daddy . . .” I smiled. “We’re home.”
If you enjoyed FATAL FICTION, be sure not to miss the next book
in Kym Roberts’s
Book Barn Mystery series
A REFERENCE TO MURDER
Click here to get your copy.
Chapter One
My time was up.
Literally. The clock struck three o’clock and the class was over. Thank God.
Sure it had been fun, but it’d been a long day and I was ready to call it quits. The students were in a good mood. The gossip had been friendly with no tinge of envy or meanness. It was the type of comradery a teacher dreams about with her students.
Not that it ever happened in my Kindergarten classes. But this particular class was full of men and women well beyond the age of five or six. My current students ranged from eighteen to eighty-seven and they had come together on a common ground to create something they could all enjoy—wall clocks made of repurposed books.
My best friend Scarlet and I had started teaching the classes at my family book store, The Book Barn Princess, a few months back when I’d made the decision to return and
put down roots in my hometown of Hazel Rock, Texas. It’s kind of a long story, but after more than a decade away from home I came back to sell the family business and ended up bridging a gap between my estranged dad and me. Now, we were working out all the kinks years of misunderstandings had caused.
“We need to wind it up, ladies and gentlemen.” I smiled as they groaned at my clock humor.
Scarlet joined in. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”
“Big time,” replied Betty.
“Maybe we could turn back the hands of time,” my oldest student Jessie replied.
My dad decided to chime in. “You can’t beat the clock.”
Our sparring was interrupted by the entrance of two incredibly good looking men. One was a staple in our town; the other was new to the circuit and had been turning heads for the past two days. He joined in without missing a tick or a tock.
“Darn, I’d been hoping to kill some time with y’all,” added rodeo star Dalton Hibbs. His blond hair glistened under the fluorescent lights. His deep blue eyes made every woman in the room drown in their cool depths. He had what it took to melt the coldest of hearts, and I had to admit, even though he wasn’t my type, he gave me warm fuzzies when he winked in my direction.
But it was Scarlet who was completely smitten, tongue tied, and utterly lost when his gaze captured hers. And at that moment I knew she was in trouble. Big trouble. But I didn’t know how much that look would cost her. If I had, I would have shoved her in the closet, locked the door, and thrown the key in the middle of the desert. Instead, I stupidly smiled and watched her fall.
Did you enjoy this teaser? Click here to get your copy.
Three career paths resonated for Kym Roberts during her early childhood: detective, investigative reporter, and . . . nun. Being a nun, however, dropped by the wayside when she became aware of boys; they were the spice of life she couldn’t deny. In high school her path was forged when she took her first job at a dry cleaner’s and met every cop in town, especially the lone female police officer in patrol. From that point on, there was no stopping Kym’s pursuit of a career in law enforcement. Kym followed her dream and became a detective who fulfilled her desire to be an investigative reporter with one extra perk—a badge. Promoted to sergeant, Kym spent the majority of her career in SVU. She retired from the job reluctantly when her husband dragged her kicking and screaming to another state, but writing continued to call her name.
Visit her on the web at kymroberts.com.
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