Bone to Be Wild

by Carolyn Haines

  Mason’s words about a convert hit me hard. Jaytee hadn’t been taken. He’d come here voluntarily. The whole thing was a setup. Jaytee was the convert who would prove Farley’s godly powers. And Jaytee was the inside man, feeding information to Mason and Farley.

  I started to call out to him, but Mason clamped a hand over my mouth. He saw them too. Anger infused his face. “You had to know we had someone on the inside of the club helping us.” He was almost gloating. “Shut up and move!” He pushed me so hard I had to run several steps to keep the momentum from tumbling me again. When I regained my footing, Jaytee was gone.

  I thought he might have been a figment of my imagination, a hallucination brought on by the blow to my head. I was damn good at making believe, but I couldn’t deny the truth. Jaytee wasn’t a prisoner. He was here voluntarily. Which meant everything about him was a lie.

  This would kill Cece. As I knew from personal experience, betrayal rode the top of the list for soul-destroying experiences. Jaytee was the first man Cece had really trusted. She’d let him into her life and into her dreams for the future. Their relationship exploded like a starburst, because Cece had wanted love for such a long time. Jaytee had accepted her—a transsexual—and he’d shown her fun and joy and pleasure. Their affair happened too fast, with too much passion, but no one could have predicted that Jaytee would betray Cece, Scott, and the band.

  I would kill him.

  A murderous rage sparked inside me. I had no weapon and couldn’t even use my hands but I meant to hurt him. Bastard. He used Cece and Scott and everyone else. He was in cahoots with the crazy people.

  As mad as I was at Jaytee, I was equally furious with myself. I should have checked closer, run down more leads, somehow found out Jaytee was a poser and a scumbag before we let our friend fall so deeply in love with him. Koby was dead, Mike wounded. Cece, in particular, would pay a terrible emotional price.

  I dodged to the right, running toward the shed where I’d seen Jaytee. Blinded by fury and a desire to do bodily harm, I evaded Mason’s reach. I was halfway across the barnyard when a tug at my bound wrists almost pulled my arms from the sockets.

  “Stop, Sarah Booth,” Mason said quietly.

  “I will kill him.” To my utter horror, I sounded like I was about to cry.

  “Get moving.” He turned me about and nudged me, this time more gently.

  To my surprise, Mason herded me away from the buildings and toward the woods. For a moment, I felt hope bubble up inside me, but then I realized that the woods offered seclusion for whatever he wanted to subject me to.

  The red tide of rage had subsided a bit, and I knew I had to think fast and creatively if I meant to stay alive. “Mason, we can talk about this.”

  “Keep moving.”

  We gained the trees, and he indicated I should walk along the edge of the fallow field, heading always away from the barn area of Hemlock Manor and any potential help.

  When we were hidden from view, his fingers dug into my shoulder. “Now you listen to me.” He jerked me around to face him. “I—”

  He never got a chance to finish. Seventy pounds of hound catapulted out of the woods and hit him full on in the chest. He stumbled backward into the field, his boots immediately clotting up with the thick topsoil that stuck to his soles in clumps. Sweetie Pie hit him again and he went down.

  The rain from the night before had been heavy, and the resulting mud, called gumbo in the Delta, weighed down Mason’s arms and legs. He struggled like a turtle flipped onto its back. And I ran.

  “Sarah Booth! Come back!”

  What kind of a fool did he think I was? Did he believe I’d wait around for him to pull himself out of the quagmire so he could abuse me again? Running with my arms tied behind my back was awkward as hell, especially after I ducked into the woods. Limbs slapped me in the face and there was nothing I could do to protect myself. I tucked my head and bulldozed on.

  Behind me, Mason called my name, and then I heard a sound like a Tasmanian devil. And Mason yelled. Roscoe had joined Sweetie Pie, and while my hound had a gentle mouth, Roscoe was another matter. Mason had a world of hurt coming his way.

  I was free.

  I angled toward the car, hoping I could find a sharp edge to cut the bonds tying my hands. I was safe from Mason for the moment. Sweetie and Roscoe would keep him down in the dirt until they tired of the game or someone came to call them off. But what of the other members of the church? They could be anywhere. I had no doubt that if they saw me, they would take me prisoner again. They all marched to the orders of Jebediah Farley.

  Limbs stung my face and neck as I slammed through the woods. Buck vines, some as thick as my wrist with huge thorns, grabbed at my flesh and clothes. One cut my cheek and blood traced a path down my face, dripping onto my jacket. I pushed on, focused on the car. The keys were still in my pocket. I was all but home free.

  Up ahead I saw a clearing. I tried to remember if I’d passed it on the way into the estate, but I was panicked and tired. My head throbbed and dizziness assaulted me. If I lived through this, I vowed to give up cigarettes and really start a fitness program. I would excel at Zumba and P-69 or whatever the super-workout was called. I would organize my underwear drawer and throw away my hidden supply of dark chocolate. I would be a better person and a better friend.

  I stumbled and went down on both knees. My head swam and nausea churned in my stomach. I couldn’t faint. I. Could. Not. Faint. Not now. Not when freedom was so close.

  Something rustled in the deadfall behind me. It tramped through the thicket, unconcerned that it alerted me to its progress. All around me the birds fell silent. The wild creatures knew danger stalked.

  In the distance I could hear the dogs, and I had to believe Mason was still pinned down by them. Whatever was moving around the woods, circling me, wasn’t Mason Britt. This was a new danger.

  Leaves crackled, limbs broke. The person drew near.

  I tried to propel myself to my feet, but I couldn’t. I rolled to my stomach and tried to push up on my knees. I wasn’t strong enough. Dizziness washed over me and I refused to think about concussions or aneurysms. There was more at stake here than just saving myself. I couldn’t quit.

  The creature moving through the underbrush could be a person, a bear, or a wildcat. At one time such creatures were plentiful but now they were almost extinct in the Delta. Almost. It didn’t really matter if it was a bear or a Chihuahua, because I didn’t have any fight left in me. I pushed myself against a tree trunk and waited for the worst.

  When Pluto stepped out of the woods, his shiny black fur covered in leaves and brambles, I almost laughed. “Pluto!”

  He sauntered over and headbutted my chin, then turned his attention to nuzzling my left hip. I appreciated the affection, but I needed help, not love.

  “Pluto, untie my hands.”

  Even if he could understand me, Pluto had no thumbs. Highly unlikely he could untie the knots Mason had used. The clothesline I was bound with wasn’t thick, but it was strong. Pluto, always game to help, slipped behind me and pulled at the rope. He got an A for effort, though it didn’t help. Tired of the rope, he headbutted my lower back. When he dug his claws into my butt, I’d had enough.

  “I’m getting up.” The cat wouldn’t let me quit.

  The sound of the dogs harassing Mason ceased, adding another layer of urgency. I had to fight. I couldn’t let Mason catch me and take me back to the kooks.

  The sound of a dog crying out in pain or surprise forced me to try harder to stand. I managed to get to my knees and stagger to my feet. I pushed on through the brambles. I couldn’t help Sweetie Pie and Roscoe until I got my hands free and surely there was something at the car I could use to cut my bonds.

  Struggling through the undergrowth I arrived at my car. The dogs had chewed a hole in the convertible top to escape. I didn’t care. Thank goodness they’d gotten out and come to my rescue. Now I had to figure out how to get home.

  In the distance I
heard the sweetest music. Sirens. Somehow, someway, Coleman had figured out where I was and he was coming, along with the cavalry.

  19

  “Do not untie her hands until she explains herself.” Tinkie stood before me, hands on hips, as she tapped her boot-clad foot on the ground. “You ran off and left me. You got yourself in big trouble and no one knew where you were.” She stood on tiptoe and got in my face. “You are irresponsible and you worried me sick.”

  I had no defense, except I was trying to protect her and that would not be a good thing to say right now. “How did you find me?”

  “There’s no time for this,” Coleman said angrily. He was furious with me too. “Did you see Jaytee? Is he here at Bijou’s? Is he injured?” he asked.

  My face must have given me away.

  “What?” Tinkie and Coleman asked in unison.

  I had to swallow before I could tell them. “Jaytee isn’t a prisoner. He’s here of his own free will. I saw him. And Gertrude—or at least I saw the convertible parked at Bijou’s front door.”

  It took Tinkie all of three seconds to absorb the implications of my statements. “I don’t give a damn about Bijou, but I will kill Jaytee with my bare hands,” she said softly.

  “Get in line,” Coleman said.

  Tinkie didn’t want to give up so easily on Cece’s love. “Before we jump to the wrong conclusion, someone tore up Cece’s house and made it seem like there was a struggle. That doesn’t make any sense. Why would Jaytee go to such trouble? He was there alone. No one to stop him. He could just take what he wanted and leave. Cece—” She broke off because her voice had started to quaver.

  “He’s the man on the inside. I don’t know how or why. I didn’t get a chance to talk to him. But I did see him, and there’s more going on here than just a backwoods minister fighting against music he doesn’t like. Now, please cut these freaking ropes.” I turned around and Coleman sliced the clothesline. At last my hands were free, and I leaned against my car. “Sweetie and Roscoe had Mason Britt down in a field. Maybe they’ve hurt him, and if so, good. But I heard one of the dogs cry out. If he did anything to them—let’s take the fight to Mason and his minions!” I had my second wind and I was ready to find Sweetie and Roscoe.

  “Stop right there.” Coleman’s tone brooked no argument. “Tell me everything.”

  I relayed what I had witnessed and what had transpired and how someone had struck me and Mason had bullied me. “I’m pressing charges.”

  “He’ll counter with trespassing,” Coleman noted.

  “He can’t. It isn’t his property. Bijou would have to.” I was feeling smug until I remembered the whole brownie incident.

  “Bijou has no love lost for you,” Coleman said.

  “Yeah, you’re right.” If I pressed any number of charges against Mason, Bijou would surely nail me for trespassing since she couldn’t prove I’d sent the brownies. The term boomerang karma came to me. Madame Tomeeka had warned me more than once that whenever I did anything nasty, it would come back to me tenfold. And here it was, sitting right on my doorstep.

  Tinkie whipped her handgun out of the top of her boot. She was the only woman I knew who could turn the phrase “armed and deadly” into a fashion statement. “It’s time to retrieve the dogs and confront Jaytee.” Tinkie wanted her pound of flesh, and I didn’t blame her.

  “Put that thing away,” Coleman ordered her. “I’ll question Bijou and I’ll find Jaytee. And if Gertrude is there, I hope to tie her into some illegal activity and get her back in jail.” Coleman was angry, but he’d long ago learned how to tamp down his feelings and think with his brain, not his heart.

  “We’ll go too,” I volunteered.

  Coleman shook his head. “You’re rounding up the dogs and getting off Bijou’s property this instant.”

  As if they’d been summoned, Sweetie Pie and Roscoe raced down the drive to the car. They were caked in mud but seemed none the worse for wear. With his pointed Vandyke and wiry eyebrows, Roscoe looked like some horrific animated voodoo doll made of clay. Sweetie resembled a big gray tick with her ears plastered to her narrow head by the mud.

  “Thank goodness they’re riding in your car,” Tinkie said with just a hint of malice. She was still angry, but Jaytee was the primary target for her ire.

  “What should we tell Cece?” I asked Coleman. “And where is Cece?”

  “She’s at the club with Scott and the rest of the band. I convinced her to stay there until I found you. And Jaytee. The security men have the road barricaded.”

  “This is going to kill her,” Tinkie said. “The band is like part of her family. She won’t only lose Jaytee, she’ll lose singing at the club and all of it. She’ll think Jaytee only liked her because he was using her.”

  “Jaytee will have a lot to answer for when we do find him,” I said. My anger had cooled. Jaytee deserved a chance to tell his side of things. And I was eager for him to start talking.

  “Load up and get moving,” Coleman ordered.

  “How did you know where I was?” I asked. “Just tell me that. Did you track my phone’s GPS?”

  “You texted me a photo of Jaytee’s billfold with your location,” Coleman said.

  I shook my head. “I was about to when Mason caught me. I’d punched in the number, but I never got to hit the send button.”

  The implications struck all of us at once. Someone else had sent the text I’d begun. “My phone has to be in Mason’s cottage,” I added.

  Pluto took that opportunity to swat me on the butt. I reached back and felt the bulge in my hip pocket. My phone. “How—?”

  I’d been unconscious for an undetermined amount of time. It could have been someone who came into the cottage while I was out of it, but somehow I didn’t see Mason being that careless. The bottom line, though, was that someone at Hemlock Manor had sent a text to Coleman on my behalf.

  “We’ll puzzle this out later.” Coleman walked around the cruiser to the driver’s door. “Do not come back here unless I call you. Understood?”

  We nodded.

  “Tinkie, I’m deputizing you and putting you in charge of Sarah Booth. If she doesn’t do exactly what you say, arrest her.”

  “You can’t do that.” They were treating me like a troublesome two-year-old.

  “By the time you get out of jail, it won’t matter whether I can or can’t,” Coleman said. “I can’t do my job and rush all over the county plucking you out of trouble.” Coleman slammed the door and drove toward Hemlock Manor.

  Tinkie had ridden to the scene with Coleman so she had no choice but to ride with me and the mud-dogs. Pluto used the hole the dogs had chewed in the ragtop and was already in the front seat, ready for home and dinner. Roscoe and Sweetie jumped in the back, a long smear of mud rubbing across the leather of the backseat. It would all clean up.

  For an awkward moment, Tinkie and I stood at the car. “I’m sorry,” I finally said. “I thought I could sneak in, snap a photo of Jaytee being held prisoner, and it would give Coleman probable cause to get a search warrant.”

  “Because you were being held here, he had probable cause.” Tinkie wouldn’t look at me. “And just so you know, he could have gotten a warrant for Bijou’s place. It was the church property that had his hands tied. Your excuses don’t hold water.”

  “I shouldn’t have come here without telling anyone. It was a mistake in judgment. And before you say not the first one, I know. I can’t undo what happened. But we still have to find the person who killed Koby and shot Mike. Whatever else Jaytee did, he couldn’t have done those two things because he was with Cece.”

  “You’re right there.”

  She would forgive me, but I needed it to be now, not later. “Tinkie, if you want me to grovel, I’m groveling.”

  “They could have killed you, Sarah Booth, and no one knew where to start looking. We were frantic. Coleman wasted precious time worried about you.”

  “I’m sorry. This wasn’t how I expected it to go,
obviously. Now, please! Let’s put this aside until we resolve the case.”

  I gave her the rundown of my time as a captive, and she reminded me that Amanda Tyree was DeWayne’s cousin. “He’s been secretly talking with her and learning about the Foundation Rock group. She told DeWayne she thinks there’s a lot more going on than religious repression.”

  “She said there was a meeting tonight. People from out of town and Bijou. Mason was talking with another member of the congregation about a plan to unite this country in some kind of godly reform. It didn’t make sense.”

  “Coleman has been worried about Farley’s group for a while, but mostly because of the treatment of the female members of the congregation. There is clearly abuse, but unless the women will come forward and testify, there’s not a lot the law can do.”

  “Do you think we should try to get Amanda out?”

  “Oh, hell, no! Get in the car and drive. I promised Coleman I’d get you off the premises and I intend to honor my word. At least one of the people in Delaney Detective Agency should be able to stand for something.”

  Holy cow, she was like a dog with a bone. She wasn’t going to quit chewing on me until she was good and ready.

  I didn’t argue but backed into the drive and headed out the gate. On the way Tinkie told me that Coleman had checked into Zeb and the Memphis gangs. “Zeb’s past doesn’t appear to be involved in the shootings in Sunflower County, but the Memphis Police Department have been monitoring gang-related activities in north Mississippi. There’s been a lot of gang activity in the rural areas. If there’s a connection, they’ll find it.”

  It was a relief to hear Coleman had some help. “What gang-related activities?”

  “Smuggling guns and drugs,” Tinkie said. “The Memphis PD told Coleman they believe gangs are using farm buildings to hold the contraband until they pull together a megashipment for transport north. But this has nothing to do with Zeb.”

  “That’s pretty smart. There are sheds and barns all over the county that no one checks for months, until it’s time to fertilize or harvest. Free storage and no legal responsibility.”