by Judy Clemens
Taylor jumped and turned, causing Sherry to miss with whatever weapon she held in her hand. She stumbled against a stall, then spun to swing at Taylor again. I sprinted down the aisle and cannoned into the woman, knocking her to the dirt floor. Something sharp jabbed into my arm and I jerked away, then clutched Sherry’s wrist, banging her hand against the ground until the syringe in her fingers skittered away.
Nick ran up behind me and grabbed Sherry’s arms. I scooted back on her legs so she couldn’t kick.
“Nick?” Sherry said. “Nick, what are you doing? You need to listen to me.”
“Rope, Taylor. There!” I jerked my chin toward a lead hanging on a post, and Taylor grabbed it and tossed it to Nick, who used it to tie Sherry’s wrists together. He didn’t respond to her repeated protests. I flipped her onto her stomach, partly to keep her from talking, and partly to get Nick out of her sightlines, and since I just had one rope, I looped one of her legs into the knot already tying her wrists. When I’d finished, I flopped onto my back, my heart going like a stampede.
Footsteps pounded up behind me, and I swung up onto my knees to defend myself. I froze. “Zach?”
“What’s going on?” He looked incredulously at Summer’s mother, squirming and shrieking that, “She doesn’t deserve the crown!” and “I paid good money for that title!”
Nick took a few steps away from Sherry’s flailing limbs, talking on his phone, a finger stuck in his other ear. I heard him say “Watts” and “calf barn,” but other than that I just had to guess the rest of the conversation.
“Ms. Moss?” Taylor squeaked. “What are you doing?”
Sherry spat dirt from her mouth. “Trash. That’s all you are. Not an image of perfection, like Summer. She was supposed to win, not you.”
Taylor’s forehead furrowed. “I’m sorry you’re disappointed.”
“Disappointed?” Sherry let out a high, maniacal laugh. “I’m not disappointed. I got cheated. I paid a fortune for that crown. I was supposed to win!”
“I don’t understand. You were?”
“Watts is coming,” Nick said.
“The detective?” Taylor said. “Why?”
“Are you really that stupid?” Sherry hissed. “You think I’m going to work this hard, then let you walk away with the title?”
And suddenly Taylor seemed to get it. Her eyes widened. “You mean you—”
“—killed that cheater Rikki Raines, with her famous white hair. And I would do it again. You were going to go along with it, too, with all the conspiracy. In fact, you did, didn’t you, with that new judge? Took the crown away from me and my beautiful girl. We deserve that title. I’m going to make sure we get it.”
“Mom?” Summer was suddenly there, staring down at her hog-tied mother. I’m sure her brow would have been furrowed, like Taylor’s, if it had had any flexibility. But her face was a smooth, blank mask. Perhaps it was from Botox. Perhaps it was just because the girl had no brain cells that knew how to function.
“Summer!” Sherry cranked her neck to look up at her daughter. “Summer, go get Mr. Gregg. Get him now! He’ll vouch for me. He’ll tell them how I deserved to win that pageant!”
Summer still looked like she’d been frozen in a very dumb place, her grotesque lips sticking out in a pucker. “What do you mean, you deserve it?” she finally said. “Wasn’t I the one in the pageant?”
Surprisingly good question, coming from that surprisingly outrageous mouth.
“Has anyone seen Laura?” Taylor said. “I got a phone call saying she needed me to meet her here.”
Summer frowned. “No. But Mom texted me, saying you wanted to talk, so that’s why I’m here.”
The girls looked at each other, then down at Sherry, who lay face down on the dirt, pounding her forehead.
Loud voices and the sound of many footsteps came from the doorway, and we were soon overrun by Watts and her gaggle of cops.
“Syringe,” I said, pointing.
Watts bagged it immediately, then came back to me. “Tell me.”
So I gave her my theory, that Gregg had approached Sherry about trading the win for money, but that they had to find a way to get Rikki to cooperate. Sherry found a way. To get rid of her and bribe someone new. But then Taylor spoiled it all by actually winning.
Rotten kids.
Watts patted my knee. “We’ll need to talk more.”
“I know.”
“But, hey. Thanks.”
I nodded, and watched as Watts looked over my shoulder, her face brightening. She jumped up. “Dad! I mean, Sheriff.” She smiled. “I believe we’ve solved the case.”
He smiled indulgently and squeezed her shoulders. Not exactly a boss/underling response, but a great dad/daughter one.
“Hey.” Nick came over and squatted beside me. “You okay?”
I rolled my shoulder. “I think she got me with that syringe.”
“Are you going numb?”
“Just tingly. I don’t think she got a chance to push the plunger.”
Nick shook his head. “We’ll get it checked out.”
“Maybe.” I held out my hands and he stood to help me up. “Shall we go outside?”
“Don’t leave!” Watts called after us.
I gave her a backward wave, but kept going. She had her hands full with Sherry and Summer, Taylor and Zach, and Daniella, who had already arrived, having sprinted from the grandstand after Nick had been so thoughtful as to call her. The woman didn’t even look out of breath, or the slightest bit disheveled. Disgusting.
I limped outside, glad to breathe the fresh air, and took a minute to watch the fireworks, which had begun bursting over the grandstand.
“Don’t really need those, do we?” Nick said.
I leaned into him. “How is it that we have so many of our own?”
He kissed the top of my head. “Most of the time that’s a good thing.”
A movement across the way caught my eye. A shadow. A person. “Hang on.” I speed-walked over, just in time to catch Gregg when he peeked back around the corner. His eyes widened, but he couldn’t move fast enough to get away. I clutched his shirt, wanting to beat the crap out of him, but knowing it would only make things worse.
“Let go!” he demanded.
I didn’t. “Do you realize how much trouble you’ve caused?”
“Where?”
“Everywhere.”
He jerked, trying to get away, scrabbling at my hands.
I leaned into his face. “You are a cheater in everything you do. Work. Family. Life. Even cows. How does that not bother you?”
He finally ripped himself away from my hands. His shirt hung open, the buttons popped, but he stood tall. “I don’t cheat. I take advantage of opportunities. It’s how you survive in this world.”
“No matter who it kills?”
He blinked several times. “What do you mean? I didn’t kill anybody.”
“Really? You have no idea what you did? You can’t see that what you began ended up with Rikki’s death?”
“Rikki? I didn’t touch that girl. She made her own choices. She knew how things worked. She knew what she had to do in order to get ahead in this worl—”
And then I couldn’t help it.
I punched him in the face.
Chapter Forty-six
“Where are we going?”
Nick smiled. “Just get in the truck.”
“We’re not going somewhere embarrassing, are we? No surprise party or anything?”
“Stella, your birthday is over.”
“Engagement party?”
“We got engaged a long time ago.”
“So why won’t you tell me?”
“Will you just get in?”
He slid in his side, so I really had no choice except to follow suit. It was Monday, three days after the fiasco at the fair, and I was back in the truck, not exactly willing to go somewhere that hadn’t been explained. My shoulder was back to its usual self, the tingling I’d expe
rienced just from the prick of Sherry’s needle, rather than any Botox actually making its way into my arm. And my brain was fried from too many police interviews.
At least that was all over. Taylor was safe. Sherry Moss was locked away. Carla’s job was intact. Life was back to pre-fair parameters. Mostly.
It had been a long and exhausting weekend. All those loose ends to tie up, and interviews to attend, and statements to sign. It was also educational—not that I wanted to ever learn how Sherry stole Botox from one of her Physicians United contacts, swiped Austin and Taylor’s numbers from her daughter’s phone—remember how Daniella had said the pageant girls shared everything?—and basically decided life wasn’t worth living without a stupid tiara. Talk about twisted. Summer was now without a parent or a tiara, Rikki was dead, and the Gregg girls had lost both their father and their livelihood because of his collusion in the whole pageant-fixing thing. Not to mention that Mrs. Gregg was having her own troubles with the law for mistreatment of animals.
It was a sick, sick world, and I was ready to distance myself from all of it.
Miranda came running out of the house. Nick sighed, and rolled down his window.
“Where are you going?” she demanded. “When are you coming back?”
He rested his head on the steering wheel. “What is this, the Inquisition?”
“I just want to know.”
“Why?”
She blinked. “Because.”
“Uh-huh. Okay. Miranda, my fiancée and I are going on a date. We’ll see you later.”
“A date in the middle of the day?”
“People have been known to do that. It’s called…doing stuff. See ya, sis.”
He closed his window and drove out the lane, reaching over to grab my hand once he hit the road. He pulled my hand up and kissed it.
“Nick.”
“Hmm?” He grinned.
“Why are you acting so weird?”
“Kissing your hand is weird? Smiling is weird?”
I narrowed my eyes. “No. You’re just…I don’t know.”
“Trust me. You’ll be happy you came. You do trust me, right?”
“Of course I do.”
“And you love me? You don’t regret saying you’d marry me?”
“Nick—”
“Sorry. Sorry, I won’t ask again.” But his smile was gone, and little worry lines appeared around his eyes.
“Nick, pull over.”
“What? Here?”
“Wherever.”
He pulled into the parking lot of the Care and Share Thrift Store, and put the truck in park. His smile had vanished, and he wouldn’t meet my eyes.
I took off my seat belt and scooted to the middle of the seat. “Nick.” I turned his face toward me, and he finally looked at me with those gorgeous, blue eyes. “Nick, I have never regretted for one moment that you came into my life. Well, no, that’s not true, during those first couple months I regretted it a lot.” I smiled. “But never since then. Never since we realized how we felt about each other. Especially after…after this week, I realize just how much you mean to me. I can’t imagine life without you anymore. You are…my life. I just…after all that’s happened, I’m feeling, well, vulnerable. It’s not that my feelings for you have changed. No, actually, maybe they have. I feel even more in love with you than I did a week ago.”
Tears glistened in his eyes, and my heart skipped a beat. “Nick, what’s wrong? Are you sick? Do you feel bad?” I choked. “Do you wish we weren’t engaged?”
“No! No.” He closed his eyes briefly, then turned to me and took my hands in his. He searched my face for a long time. “Stella, I feel fine. It’s nothing to do with being sick. And listen, I haven’t ever, not for one day, regretted that I fell into your life. There were times I’ve been angry about it. And I’ve wished I didn’t love you, back when you hated me.”
“I never—”
He put a finger on my mouth. “But I’ve loved you since the moment I walked into your office that very first day. There’s just something about you I can’t resist.” He finally smiled again.
“Okay. Good.” I let myself breathe. “So why are you acting so weird?”
He ran his finger along my forehead, my cheekbone, my neck. Along the collar of my shirt.
“Nick, if you don’t stop, I’m going to jump you right here in the parking lot, and I don’t think the Mennonite ladies bringing old clothes to the thrift store would appreciate that.”
He smiled, and took his hand away. “Fine. But listen. You said you trust me, right?”
“Of course.”
“And you still love me?”
“Nick—”
“Then trust me just a little longer. Please.”
I waited, and when I realized he wasn’t going to say anything else, I scooted back over to the passenger seat and put on my seatbelt. “Fine. Let’s go. Wherever we’re going. Even if this is all weird.”
He started the truck and pulled out of the drive. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”
We drove northeast, not saying anything else, not even listening to the radio. Nick held my hand, and I did my best to relax, and remember that Nick would never do anything to hurt me.
Twenty minutes later we reached the outskirts of Doylestown. Lunch at the Italian Place? Or the gourmet deli? He had made me wear decent clothes, after all. I glanced over at him, but he wasn’t giving anything away.
We drove up the main drag, the turned onto Court Street. Nick found a space along the road and parked.
“Nick?”
He smiled. “Come on.”
My stomach was doing the whole butterfly thing now. He took my hand, that warm, familiar gesture, and led me up the walk.
“Nick, are we…”
We walked up the wide cement stairs and through the glass doors.
“Nick, are we getting our marriage license?”
He pulled me over to a wooden bench and sat me down. “We don’t need to get a marriage license.”
“Why not? Are we…Nick, I’m confused. Just a few minutes ago you said you still wanted to marry me.”
“Oh, yes. I do.” I heard the doors swish open, and Nick glanced over my shoulder and smiled. “Here they are.”
“Here who is?” I scooted around on the bench and saw Carla and Bryan. “Wait. Are they getting a marriage license?”
“No. At least, not that I know of.”
I stood up. “Carla, what are you doing here?”
She raised her eyebrows at Nick. “Haven’t told her yet?”
“No, I…” He reached back and pulled something out from under his shirt, where he’d had it tucked into his jeans. An envelope. “We don’t have to get a marriage license, because we already have one.”
My mouth drifted open.
“You’ve been so annoyed with Miranda and all her planning—I can’t blame you, of course—and the idea of having an actual church wedding freaks you out so much, I thought, why go through all that? Especially after you came home Friday after being at that salon. No way was I going to let Miranda put you through that again. So…” He waggled the envelope.
“You can get a marriage license without me?”
“Well, um, I know somebody.”
“Who pretended to be me?”
“No, who notarized the application.”
I stared at him. “Isn’t that illegal?”
“Stella!” Carla laughed. “Do you really care? Seriously?”
“No, I guess not, it’s just…what exactly are we doing here?”
Nick smiled and handed the envelope to Carla before taking my hands. “You said you still wanted to get married, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then, how about we do it today?”
Today. He wanted to get married. Today. “But your mom. Miranda.”
“They’ll survive. They can throw us a reception if they want, some other time. But today…” He pulled me close and put his arms around me. “I want o
ur wedding day to be something you enjoy, too. Something you’re not nervous and tense and angry about. It should be just us.”
“And us,” Carla said, giggling.
“Yeah, why them?”
