by Kym Roberts
Daddy and I did as we were told, and although the room was spacious, I felt claustrophobic. Princess did too. She squirmed and squealed and I held on tighter. Just as I thought I’d calmed her down, she jumped from my arms. I grabbed for her but missed and she landed hard on the floor.
She shook her head like a dog coming out of the water and then circled at my feet.
“That’s what she did to me,” Daddy said.
“That leap saved your life,” Mason agreed. “Otherwise, my knife would have been buried in your throat.”
I rubbed my throat just thinking about how close Daddy had come. Then I asked that age-old question every victim must ask: “Why?”
“Because of Isla,” he said. Then he held his free hand out in Isla direction for her to take. “Come, Isla. I will protect you, since they have failed.”
“How have I failed?” the Judge asked. I really didn’t think he cared what Mason thought, but I think he did care what Isla thought.
“You left his mother on the floor for days with a broken hip and did nothing to save her,” Isla answered.
I looked toward Mason and saw the pain on his face right before he hardened it. “I won’t let you ignore Isla the way you ignored my mother. She died because you wouldn’t let that deputy kick in that door for me.”
The Judge stiffened. “You’re Debbie Andrews’s son?”
“Yeah. I’m the man that you took everything from. She was my only family, and now I’m going to do the same thing to you. This little family expansion you’ve had in the past week hasn’t made it easy, but I’m ready to take away every person that ever meant something to you.”
The Judge couldn’t believe it. It was as if he’d never seen evil or senseless violence in his life, when in actuality, he saw it every day. “You killed Ava to get back at me?”
Mason grinned and nodded. “She was a pathetic woman. You should have never chosen her over your wife.”
The Judge didn’t deny having an affair with Ava, but I knew from the look on his face that he’d never felt anything beyond the love a father has for his daughter for Ava, and part of him was broken because of that loss.
“You tried to kill Bobby because he’s my son?” the Judge whispered. Somehow, he still couldn’t fathom the depth of Mason’s hatred. I understood it all too clearly as Mason basked in the glory of his plan.
“And Princess?” the Judge asked. He wasn’t talking about our armadillo. He was talking about me, and I couldn’t help but warm up inside at the anger building in his voice.
“You probably didn’t hear. I caught one of her admirers cutting the tires to her truck in our parking lot last night. I suggested a better way to be rid of the cancer in his life, but he obviously failed. Now his mom will have to take the fall for three murders instead of one. Joan can be a little passionate about cheating husbands and deadbeat sons and granddaughters who only show up to collect the money when the elderly die.”
“That wasn’t why I came by to see Isla!” I argued.
Mason laughed. “It was as far as Joan knew.”
I thought about the way Joan’s opinion of me had changed. It made sense that Mason was filling her head with lies.
My daddy joined the argument. “But Isla isn’t dying.”
Mason’s grin was evil. “She is as far as Joan knows.”
I looked at Isla to see how Mason’s plan affected her. Her brow was drawn, and again I thought of those square pegs fitting into those round holes, but I could have sworn I saw understanding in the depths of her gaze as she made eye contact with me.
The Judge was still stuck on why Mason had targeted his family. “I followed our department policy,” he said. “There isn’t a day that goes by that I haven’t thought of how I should have done things differently the day my deputy responded to your mama’s house.”
“You should have kicked in the door!” Mason yelled.
The Judge didn’t argue. “You’re right. I should have gone out to her house and kicked in the door myself. But I didn’t, and we paid a substantial amount of money to you for the loss of your mother. I changed our policy because of my error. It was the biggest . . .” The Judge hesitated and looked at me. “It was the second biggest mistake of my life. Turning away from you before you were even born was the biggest.”
“How touching,” Mason said. “Well, now I’m going to take her and your son from you. But most of all, I’m going to take your wife from you. Because she deserves someone who will watch over her. Someone who will kick the door down if she doesn’t answer the phone, regardless of the cost. Because it’s the right thing to do when you are in charge of the welfare of others. It’s the right thing to do.” Mason’s voice held the conviction of a zealot. A man crazed with his need to protect. A man who wanted to protect my grandmother from a family who loved her dearly.
Mason held out his hand for Isla to take. “Come. I will care of you.”
Isla looked at Mason, the man she played Scrabble with every day, and then she gazed at the Judge. From the look of confusion on her face, I wasn’t sure if she knew who the Judge was or if she’d chose Mason over him. Isla took a step in Mason’s direction and then looked back at the Judge. She turned to the Judge and kissed him on the cheek as if saying goodbye one last time. I thought the Judge was going to fall apart that very moment . . . until Isla whispered something. Then it was his turn to look completely confused as Isla turned back and took Mason’s hand.
A grin of superiority swept over Mason’s face. He sensed victory—a bit too early.
Isla grabbed his hand and pulled with every bit of strength she had. It was the sign the Judge needed. He charged Mason and grabbed the gun, which exploded with a flash of white heat from the barrel. The Judge jerked back but never lost his grip on Mason’s hand as Princess ran toward the fight and struck Mason in the shin with her head. The Judge, Isla, and Mason went down to the floor. Smoke filled the room as the gun went off a second time. Daddy jumped on Mason, wrapping his legs around his torso in a scissor hold while securing Mason’s left arm with his hand. I knew it would be tough for him with his wounded arm, but the Judge was losing the battle for the gun despite repeatedly slamming Mason’s knuckles against the tile floor.
Mason began kicking, trying to gain purchase with his feet, and I jumped into the tangled mass of bodies. I grabbed for the gun to ensure it didn’t turn toward the Judge or Isla just as Isla began whacking Mason over the head with her cane—but she had terrible aim.
The cane struck Daddy’s legs several times before it struck my arm, and I could have sworn it split my hand from my wrist. From the grunt my Daddy gave next, I think she hit him in the head. Then Mason swore, and I knew she hit her target—but not hard enough. I looked around for anything to hit him with and grabbed the nearest object within reach. I swung as hard as I could and struck Mason square in the nose. He yelled and blood flew. His grip weakened and the Judge gained the gun. Isla struck again for good measure, and this time, Mason was quiet. He was out cold, but Isla wasn’t about to stop. She swung once more and missed her target. She got the Judge right across the bridge of the nose.
“Good God, woman! Isn’t it bad enough that I’ve been shot? Do you have to cane me as well?”
Isla paused long enough to realize Mason wasn’t a threat and the Judge was scooting back with blood covering his left shoulder. She dropped her cane, grabbed a towel from the shelves, and went to the Judge.
“Don’t you die on me, you old coot,” she said as she sat down next to him and applied pressure to his wound.
“I think that’s what your granddaughter calls me.”
“Well, if the shoe fits . . .”
“It used to fit. I’m a changed man.”
“Don’t you change. I love you just the way you are, Jacob Sperry.” There was a smile on Isla’s face, but a tear dribbled down her cheek and the Judge wiped it a
way.
“I love you, Isla Warren Sperry. I have from the first day I laid eyes on you, and nothing will ever change that.”
I looked at my daddy, who still held on to Mason in case he became conscious.
Daddy took one look at me and laughed as Mateo and a deputy ran in the door with their guns drawn. I heard a chuckle behind me as Mateo took in the scene and asked, “Did you hit him with a bedpan?”
I looked at the object in my hand and dropped it to the floor. “Fuzz buckets.”
Princess came out of nowhere and scooted the pan closer to me. I wasn’t sure if she wanted to embarrass me further or make sure I was armed. I preferred to think she was still looking out for my welfare.
Mateo grinned and holstered his gun. Then he relieved Daddy from his hold and put Mason in handcuffs with the assistance of his deputy. Mateo instructed his deputy to use an ammonia inhalant to revive Mason, who immediately jerked his head upright as he got a whiff of the strong stimulant. He began to struggle but soon learned it was a fruitless endeavor.
“Relax. You’re in custody now,” Mateo said.
The Judge filled in the charges. “For the murder of Ava James. For the attempted murder of Bobby Ray Warren, and for conspiracy to commit murder of Charli Rae Warren.” His last words were filled with the passion I remembered from my teens. “May God have mercy on your soul, because I hope to hell the courts don’t.”
Mateo and the deputy helped Mason to his feet, and a deputy escorted him out of the room.
“You got that all on video with your body cam, didn’t you?” Isla asked.
Mateo looked down at the camera attached to his shirt. “I should have.”
“Good. I need a copy.”
Mateo’s left brow rose and the rest of us looked at Isla.
“It was our first family movie, and I want to remember our teamwork for as long as I can.”
Mateo was the first to speak. “That will be the best first family video in the history of family videos.”
I couldn’t have agreed more . . . except for the bedpan.
“Could you take our picture, Sheriff?” Isla asked. “I got one of Princess with the bedpan from behind, but I’d like to get one with all of us—together for the first time.”
“Of course.” Mateo stepped forward and took Isla’s phone.
“You took a picture of me holding the bedpan?” I asked.
Isla grinned. I had expected the violence to confuse her even more, but instead, it had made her incredibly lucid . . . for now, at least. “Your daddy and you were working together. How could I pass that up? It’s an incredible profile photo of the two of you.”
I couldn’t argue with her logic. I just hoped the video and the photo were family heirlooms and not put on display for everyone to see.
Daddy and I moved over toward the Judge and Isla—my grandparents—with Princess joining us as if she wasn’t about to be left out, and the five of us posed for our first ever family photo.
“It would have been better if I didn’t have a broken nose,” my grandfather said.
“I think the gunshot wound is worse,” Isla said.
“The gunshot wound is manly,” my grandfather replied.
My grandmother and I rolled our eyes.
“Did Mason hit you?” asked Mateo.
“That’s from my mother,” Daddy said.
“Isla broke the Judge’s nose?”
“And she hit Daddy’s leg—”
“And my head.” Daddy added.
“And my arm.” I held up my arm to show the welt forming around my wrist.
Isla blushed. “That wasn’t my intent.”
“Darlin’, you’ve never been able to hit the broad side of a barn with a shotgun filled with bird shot. What made you think you could hit Mason Andrews with your cane and not us?”
Isla looked affronted. “Well, I knew I would miss, but I thought my family was tougher than a few licks with a little old cane.”
We all laughed and Mateo took the picture. It was a picture I would treasure for the rest of my life.
Chapter Thirty
It was moving day for two very important women.
After Ava’s funeral, which was attended by even more people than her vigil had been, my grandfather produced Ava’s will. A will he had encouraged Ava to make, because if anything happened to her, she would have the opportunity to make someone else’s life better.
And she had. Ava’s neatly kept trailer was now the property of Naomi Shoemaker, soon to be Naomi Smith once she obtained her divorce. Naomi’s old rented trailer, which was no place for anyone to live, had been hauled away after the Department of Family and Protective Services had it condemned. Now Naomi, who had obtained a job as a receptionist at Oak Grove Manor thanks to a recommendation from her soon-to-be ex-mother-in-law, had a nice home with a great yard for her and her two kids, Lily and Jimmy Jr.
I couldn’t have been happier for them.
It was moving day for my grandmother as well. She was moving home. Her hip was almost completely healed, and my grandfather had decided it was time to retire. His shoulder had healed nicely with a through-and-through wound that hadn’t broken a single bone. He said he was more than lucky, he was blessed. With the help of a daily nurse, he wanted to spend as much time with my grandmother as possible before the disease took her from us once and for all. It was still difficult for me to think of them as my grandma and grandpa, but I was beginning to get used to the idea.
The book drive had been a huge success, and to go with it, I’d created a foster care library stall in the Book Barn Princess. The Ava James Library was only for children in foster care, and no one was allowed in the stall unless they were a foster child, or a foster parent. I hoped it would give those children a feeling of being loved and special in a world where they often felt lost and forgotten.
“That’s the last box,” Daddy said as we carried Isla’s belongings into the house.
“Wait, I’ve got one more thing.” I ran from the house and over to Daisy and Jessie’s house to retrieve the package I’d left earlier that morning.
I rang the bell and Jessie answered the door. “Dagnabit, Princess. You just cost me five dollars.”
Daisy came up behind him with her hand held out as Jessie dug a five-dollar bill from his wallet. “That’s my husband,” Daisy said with a grin and a wink in my direction.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “What was the bet?”
“If you’d arrived five minutes later, I would have owed Jessie. I appreciate your punctuality.” She took the five dollars from her husband and stuffed it down her bra.
Jessie’s bushy eyebrows rose on his forehead. “Do I get a chance to win that back?”
“You get a chance to earn that back,” Daisy said with a wink.
I laughed again and grabbed what I’d come over for. “I think I’ll let you get to work,” I told Jessie.
As the door closed behind me I heard a deep male “Yee-haw!”
Then I could have sworn I heard Daisy giggle and say, “That’s my husband,” as I left the porch and headed toward my grandparents’ house.
I made it back inside as my family sat down for a glass of sweet tea, and I popped my head around the corner of the kitchen door.
“Close your eyes.”
Three sets of eyes closed, but I could tell the Judge was peeking, and my daddy’s left eye was open just a sliver.
“They’re both cheating, aren’t they?” asked my grandmother.
“I wouldn’t—” My grandfather started to fib.
“Ah-ah-ah.” I scolded. “Proverbs 12:22 says, ‘The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in people who are trustworthy.’”
Grandpa smiled. “I stand corrected. I was peeking along with your father.”
“Speak for yourself, old man.” Daddy str
uggled to keep a straight face as he winked at his own father.
Grandma grinned with her eyes closed. “He deserved that one.”
“I learned that verse just so I could keep the three of you in line,” I confessed to my family, then I gave them the best gift of all. “You can open your eyes now.”
In the middle of my grandparents’ table was a white Victorian birdcage containing Tweetle Dee and Tweetle Dum, who immediately began singing as if on cue. It was the gift of song that contained a memory of an aunt I never really got to know—Ava James—and not an eye was dry as we sat and told stories about the woman who was loved by all.
If you enjoyed Lethal Literature, be sure not to miss all of Kym Roberts’s Book Barn Mysteries, including
Charli Rae Warren doesn’t plan on striking it rich as the owner of an independent bookstore in Hazel Rock, Texas—especially one with a pink armadillo as its mascot. But when an ingenious advertising campaign puts her business on the map, it ropes in some deadly publicity . . .
Charli can’t believe writer Lucy Barton has agreed to promote her latest Midnight Poet Society novel at the Book Barn Princess—or that there’s only a week and a half to prepare for the signing. It’s all because of the Book Seekers, a smartphone app created by her cousin Jamal exclusively for Charli’s bookstore, which sends fans on a virtual scavenger hunt around town for a chance to meet the best-selling author. But as soon as it goes live, people turn up dead . . .
Someone’s using the Book Seekers to track victims and copycat the fictional Midnight Poet Society homicides, and horrified locals suspect Jamal could be the mastermind behind the crimes. While Charli readies the Barn for a stampede of new customers, it’ll take true grit to shelve the culprit before her brainy cousin gets locked behind bars, Ms. Barton backs out of the visit, and she finds herself up a creek—with a serial killer holding the paddle!
Keep reading for a special look!
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Chapter One
“Your eye is twitching.”
