“I figured you’d say that.”
“I suppose you think I should give up and turn tail like a scared pup.” Her hands were on her hips and she’d wheeled to face him.
Shane shook his head and smiled at her. “Nope. On the contrary. If I were in your shoes I’d do exactly the same thing.”
“You would?”
A softening in her expression tugged at his heart. He knew what she was likely to ask next so he cut her off quickly. “Yes, but I’m not in your shoes. This isn’t my fight, so don’t expect me to keep bailing you out.”
Jamie began by looking astonished, then glared at him. “I don’t believe you! Have I ever asked for your help? Well, have I? Except for towing my truck and getting it back on the road, and that was strictly business, I have not asked for one single thing from you. Not one.”
“How about rescuing Useless?”
“That was the sheriff’s request. He said so. And as for all the other times, those were because someone else sent you. Your mother, for instance.”
He figured the last thing she wanted to hear was how cute and funny he thought she was when she was mad, so he kept that opinion to himself. He did, however, smile. “I tracked you down at the old police station after you’d been shot at.”
“Did I ask you to follow me?”
Chuckling softly, he shook his head. “No, can’t say you did.” He paused, then added, “You make it awfully hard for me to be a hero.”
“Are you trying to be?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Maybe.”
To his relief, the arrival of the sheriff’s car interrupted their banter. Good thing, too, Shane reasoned. He’d become so engrossed with Jamie Lynn he’d almost forgotten himself and led her to realize he cared.
If that did eventually happen, he was ready with the excuse that he looked after the welfare of all his friends and acquaintances. It wouldn’t hurt to include Jamie among those. After all, his mother liked her.
Yeah, Shane silently agreed. Unfortunately, his mother wasn’t the only one.
* * *
Darkness was encroaching and everyone except Shane had gone before Jamie was free to start for Shane’s garage. She wasn’t pleased to have to leave her truck there again, but without working headlights she didn’t dare drive it at night. Besides, one of the front fenders was bent in so far that if Shane hadn’t straightened it a bit with a crowbar, it could have ruined another of her tires.
As soon as she’d parked inside the fenced work yard, Shane switched back to his personal pickup and locked the premises behind them. Jamie handed off Ulysses, tossed her purse in ahead of her and climbed into his other truck. “Okay. Let’s go.”
When the vehicle remained at idle, she frowned over at him. Both hands were resting on the wheel but he was making no move to proceed.
“Well?” she said, ruing the tinge of annoyance in her tone. “What are you waiting for?”
One eyebrow arched as he glanced at her. “Did you want something?”
“Aren’t we going to your mother’s house? I was invited tonight. I thought you knew.”
A tilt of his head and slight shrug of his shoulders was the only reply.
“What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing. It appears that you need a ride. I’m just waiting for you to ask me for it.”
“Oh, for...” She blew a noisy breath. “All right. Will you please give me a lift to Marsha and Otis’s, Mr. Colton?”
The satisfied grin on his handsome face told the tale. He was gloating. Not that she blamed him, considering the way she’d confronted him at the park.
“I’d be delighted, Miz Jamie Lynn,” he drawled, clearly accenting his already evident Southern twang.
Not to be outdone, she did her best Scarlett O’Hara imitation and replied, “Why, ah declare, sir, you are the most gallant gentleman ah have ever met.”
He chuckled, then laughed, then laughed louder.
Jamie joined him. Hilarity brought a wonderful, contagious release of tension, and tears were soon streaming down her cheeks while they both roared and guffawed and chortled.
Although Shane didn’t appear to be producing tears as copiously as she was, he, too, was clearly overwhelmed, so much so that he had yet to start driving. She fished tissues out of her purse and offered one to him while she dried her eyes and giggled.
He wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand instead. “Where did that dose of Southern charm come from?”
“Beats me. Probably the movies. I’m still having trouble understanding everything people around here say to me. When I checked into the motel and asked the lady at the front desk if she could give me a quiet room, she said, ‘I don’t care to.’ If she hadn’t been smiling I would have been sure she was turning me down.”
“Around here that means, I don’t mind a bit.”
“Swell. So besides rescuing I need a translator?”
“You’ll catch on. It won’t take long. There must be some understanding left from childhood.”
“Bringing us back to my reason for being here,” Jamie said, sobering without great effort. “Marsha said you’d found the old records she wanted. Will you be able to give her what she was expecting?”
“I think so,” Shane said. He put the truck in gear and pulled out onto the street. “I want to clean up the boxes for her, so she doesn’t have them in the house yet. She has allergies and the dust is liable to make her sick.”
“I can help do that. You can just stack them in her garage and I’ll vacuum them clean for her.”
“We wouldn’t want to put you to all that trouble.”
It was his tone rather than the words that gave her pause. Could it be that he didn’t want her to have a chance to poke around in his dad’s old files until he’d had an opportunity to remove anything he didn’t want her to see?
“Surely you can’t be afraid of what I might find. After all, you said your father was very honest.”
“Of course he was!”
“Well, then, what’s the problem?”
Even in profile she could tell he’d gritted his teeth. “I’m trying to protect my mother, that’s all.”
“What makes you think she needs or wants protecting?”
Shane apparently had no pat answer for that question because none was forthcoming. The only change Jamie Lynn noticed was the way his fists clamped tightly on the steering wheel and his spine stiffened.
Once she had a chance to speak with Marsha and share opinions, she’d know more. Until then, she planned to bide her time and keep her mouth shut.
That concept made her smile. Separately, either task might be doable. Together, they were practically an impossible goal.
NINE
It didn’t surprise Shane to see his mother hurry to embrace Jamie Lynn first. Hugging all the time was a Southern thing, especially among the women, although he’d seen plenty of men greet each other with the male equivalent: an eager handshake accompanied by a slap on the back. And grinning. Lots of grinning.
This time, however, Marsha was clearly concerned. “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked Jamie.
“I’m fine. My truck, not so much, but I’m okay.”
“Shane took good care of you? And Harlan showed up?”
Jamie nodded. “Yes. Can I bring my dog inside again?”
“Of course. Kyle is waiting to play.”
“I’ll get him,” Shane offered, “if the useless little ankle biter will let me.”
The smile Jamie bestowed was tinged with cynicism. “You should be safe unless I give him the command to attack. Then, look out.”
Shane rolled his eyes. “Right. He may think he’s tough but I know better.” Kind of like his mistress.
“Ha! W
ait till you see him in action,” Jamie Lynn countered.
Opening the truck door, Shane didn’t have to say a word to get the little white mop of fur to come to him. He merely held out a hand and the dog responded immediately.
By the time he had scooped him into his arms, Ulysses was wiggling happily, stretching and licking under Shane’s raised chin.
“Hey! That tickles.”
His mother smiled and pointed. “I’m afraid it’s too late to tell your dog to attack, unless he plans to lick my son into submission.”
“Apparently.” Jamie sighed audibly. “I’m really tired. Can we go inside?”
“Of course. How thoughtless of me.” Marsha slipped a motherly arm around her shoulders. “You can tell me all about what happened at the park while I make gravy.”
Following, Shane heard Jamie Lynn say, “There’s not much to tell.” He agreed. That was just as well considering how the latest attack might have turned out. If she had been in or near her truck when the hammer-wielding thug had shown up, there was no telling what might have occurred.
His heart skipped. Sped. Was that going to become her enemy’s ultimate goal? How long would it be before somebody decided that the only way to stop her from probing into the past was to eliminate her for good?
Sentiment argued against anything so drastic. Logic kept insisting that it was possible, particularly if her suspicions happened to be even slightly correct. The portion of his father’s notes that he’d already read had opened his eyes to an undercurrent of immorality that had shocked and saddened him.
Calm on the surface, like a lake on a lazy summer day, Serenity harbored plenty of trouble beneath its sparkling ripples of peace and plenty. Hints of graft and other corruption abounded, although lack of proof had kept Sam from pursuing or prosecuting most cases. The way Shane saw it, his duty was to keep Jamie Lynn from making so many waves that she drowned under them.
And, from the looks of things, he added, watching the women enter the house, his life was about to get far more complicated. Nobody had to spell it out. Marsha Colton Bryce was fixing to step right in the middle of Jamie Lynn’s investigation and get herself into deep, deep water. It was going to be Shane’s job to serve as her life jacket.
If he could have stopped her he would have, but he knew his mother too well. The more he argued against her involvement, the harder she’d fight to continue it.
Beyond praying for wisdom and the safety of his loved ones, there was only one thing he could do. He had to step back, observe closely and try his best to be ready to intervene when the next catastrophe hit.
It was one thing to claim total trust in God and quite another to exercise that trust 24/7, without fail. Shane wanted to be a perfect Christian, which, of course was impossible because his humanity kept insisting that worry was necessary.
“Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief,” he muttered as he passed through the door. That was a scripture he rarely quoted and he was surprised it had come to mind.
Given the challenges of his life since meeting Jamie Lynn, however, it certainly was appropriate.
* * *
Each time she entered Marsha’s house, Jamie felt more at home. And each time she left, more bereft. That was disturbing, to say the least. Her real home was with Tessie. The only thing tying her to Serenity was past trouble, so why did her mind keep insisting she could find peace and happiness here?
She shook off confusing feelings and concentrated on appearing amiable during dinner. That wasn’t hard. Marsha mothered her, Otis was like the kindly grandfather she’d never known and Kyle reminded her of dreams she’d once cherished of having a son of her own.
And then there was the enigma that was Shane. How could she possibly hope to ferret out the truth when chaotic emotions interfered and confused her? It was evident that he didn’t approve of her plans, and part of her was a people-pleaser. The sensible side of her personality, however, insisted there was nothing wrong with her original aims.
Belatedly, Jamie realized Shane was speaking to her. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
“I’d suggested we take the first box into the living room and relax while we look through it.”
“That sounds wonderful.” She glanced toward the hearth rug where a weary little boy and an equally worn-out dog had curled up together.
“Don’t worry,” Shane said. “Nothing much wakes Kyle when he’s asleep.”
“I can’t say the same for Useless.”
Marsha chuckled. “Which is it going to be, dear? Are you sticking with Ulysses or should we call him Useless?”
Eyeing Shane, Jamie made a face. “As long as I hang around this family we may as well do it Shane’s way. Besides, the dog doesn’t care. They sound almost the same.”
Shane’s eager “All right” was accompanied by a smile.
Jamie figured he was happy because he’d scored a small victory. Fine. Let him think she’d begun to agree with his notions. Giving in about this was minor compared with being allowed to look at the former sheriff’s old files and notes. What she needed to do, she reasoned, was keep careful track of what she had and hadn’t read so she wouldn’t miss anything important.
Turned out that that wasn’t hard. Most of the journals were innocuous. Boring, actually. They covered the day-to-day operations of the sheriff’s office, with a few notes about personnel problems and neighborhood squabbles. By the time she had finished scanning the third one, Jamie Lynn’s eyelids were heavy and she had made very few notes.
She yawned and stretched, taking care to not jostle the nearby napping child and his canine pal. When Marsha offered coffee, she readily accepted. “Thanks. I’d love a cup.”
“You won’t sleep well if you drink more now,” Shane warned.
His mother huffed. “It looks to me like she’s about to drop off just sitting here. So am I. Be a dear and fetch us both a cup, will you? I made a fresh pot after supper.”
Jamie was so aware of the man’s every nuance she sensed a reluctance that barely showed. He glanced at his mother, then down at the box sitting by his chair, then up at her before nodding and getting to his feet. “Fine. How about you, Otis?”
“Forget him. He’s been sawing logs for half an hour,” Marsha quipped. “I’ll take mine with cream and sugar, please.”
Jamie opened her mouth to tell him how she wanted her coffee but he beat her to it.
“I’ve watched you. Same as Mom’s, right?”
“Right.”
As soon as Shane had walked away, Jamie Lynn set aside the small pad of paper she’d brought for taking notes, dropped to her knees on the carpet and reached into the open cardboard storage box. Shane had been doling out the contents as if he’d planned what to show them. She wanted to see what he’d held back.
The stack of manila-colored folders she was able to reach consisted of unmarked files. That was the first oddity. The second, she discovered when she resumed her seat, balanced the stack on her knees and began to read.
Although the notes seemed random at first, she quickly realized they were filled with familiar names. Names she had seen while going over the trial transcripts. There was not a smidgen of doubt. Sheriff Sam Colton had been secretly investigating the judge and prosecuting attorney who had sent her brother to prison.
* * *
It didn’t take Shane long to return with three mugs of steaming coffee. One look at the expression on Jamie Lynn’s face told him she’d been busy in his absence. Not only was there a pile of single folders on her lap, she was leaning closer to his mother to speak aside.
He cleared his throat. They both jumped as if the first jolts from a stun gun had touched them. Jamie’s eyes were wide. Marsha was squinting at him. She gestured. “When were you planning to let us see these?”
“Never.” Rather than chance spilling the
hot coffee, he set it on an end table. “I don’t know where you two started, but if you read all those files, start to finish, you’ll see that Dad never proved anything. His hunches were pure supposition.”
Jamie snapped her jaw closed. “Supposition? Since when do lawmen go around writing down guesses?” She waved some of the loose papers in his direction. “Do you know who these people are? Judge Randall presided over my brother’s trial and Abernathy was the prosecutor!”
“I realize that.” He lowered himself into the same chair he’d occupied before. “The thing is, their unproven misconduct has nothing to do with you or your family.”
“Does that make it right?”
“Of course not.” Restless and defensive, Shane rose again and began to pace, hands in his pockets. “The point is, there is absolutely no proof anybody negatively influenced Ray Junior’s conviction.”
Speaking firmly yet not raising her voice, Marsha said, “What about your father’s accident, Shane?”
“What about it?”
“Has it ever occurred to you that he was lured to that deserted dirt road for a reason?”
When Jamie started to speak, Marsha silenced her with a raised hand. “I’m not talking about who may have run him down. Not yet. I’m asking if the so-called accident was really murder in disguise.”
Shane shook his head. “Nothing like that was ever suggested before or during the trial.”
“That doesn’t mean it can’t be true.” She pressed her lips into a thin line, her mind obviously made up. “What I want to do, what I want all of us to do, is sift through this information until we have some answers. Not the usual ones, real ones.”
“You actually believe it was a setup?”
“Why not?” Jamie interjected. “Think about it. If you wanted a patsy, who better than an alcohol-abusing teenager with a bad reputation and reckless friends? I know R.J. wasn’t alone that night because he never went out partying by himself. It was always with a group, mostly boys his age and maybe a few girls. There also had to be one person old enough to buy liquor or a kid who could steal it from a parent’s stash, so why was the prosecution unable to find one single eyewitness?”
Small Town Justice Page 8
