by Debra Webb
“It’s time to end this, buddy,” Troy said grimly.
Keith pivoted to face him, eyes slitted suspiciously. “What’re you talking about?”
“Austin is just gonna keep messing with folks’ heads and hanging around until people begin to think he’s telling the truth, that maybe he didn’t kill Heather. Hell, the newspapers are already hinting at that shit.” Troy shook his head. “I can’t let that happen. You heard what Violet said, the bastard’s asking to see the files on the investigation? Why the hell do you suppose he would do that?”
“How should I know?” Keith flung his arms in the air, his frustration over the top. “I’m telling you, Troy, we need to let this thing go. Burning down his house … hell, man, that’s a felony … could’ve been a murder charge. Somebody’s taking some big-ass risks.”
Troy scoffed. “Just not big enough or he’d be dead.”
Keith got that suspicious look in his eyes again. “You said you had nothing to do with that.”
“I didn’t.” Troy held up his hands and waved them to show they were clean. “Back off, man. He’s the enemy, not me.”
“Well, if not you, then who?”
“Who the fuck knows?” Troy was the one getting suspicious now. “You ain’t getting like Emily Wallace, are you?”
“Emily’s a good person, Troy,” Keith countered, evading the question. “You know that. You and Larry were too hard on her last night.”
“She’s a traitor.” Troy needed a beer. He wished he’d brought along more than the two six-packs he’d already consumed.
“I gotta ask you something, Troy?”
Troy swiveled his head to stare at the man who was supposed to be his best friend. “What?”
“You been binging on alcohol lately? Like before?”
“This meeting is not about me,” Troy snapped. He didn’t need nobody telling him how much he should drink. He got enough of that shit at home. Patricia was threatening divorce. Divorce! His whole life was falling apart and it was Austin’s fault. “This is about making things right once and for all.”
Keith shook his head. “I can’t do this anymore, Troy. This thing with Austin is ruining all our lives. Don’t you see that, man?”
“At least we have one to ruin,” Troy snarled. “Heather’s was taken away from her.”
Keith stared at the ground a moment, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides. “I can’t do it, Troy.” He lifted his gaze. “I’m finished trying to make Austin pay. The law is satisfied with the time he served. We’ll just have to get right with the way it is.”
“Oh, I see the problem.” Troy moved his head from side to side in disappointment. He stopped abruptly when the world started spinning. He blinked a couple of times, regained his balance.
“You okay, man?” Keith reached for him.
Troy snatched his arm away. “I know what your problem is. I thought about it all night. What Austin said got to you. That bullshit about asking my friends’ alibis in front of all those people threw you for a loop, didn’t it?”
Keith looked mad and maybe a little afraid. The anger Troy could understand … but the fear, what the hell did Keith have to be afraid of?
“What Austin says or thinks means nothing to me. This is about having some peace. We can’t keep going like this, Troy. We have families to think of.”
Troy pounded his chest. “Heather was my family.”
Keith took a big breath, let it out. “You’re right. And I’m sorrier than you’ll ever know. But I’m out, got it?”
Maybe it was the way the alcohol suddenly kicked in or the lack of sleep, but this just didn’t feel right. “Are you saying you’re not gonna help me finish this? After what he did?” Troy blinked some more, tried to keep Keith in focus.
Keith met Troy’s gaze and that crazy fear was still there or, hell, maybe he was imagining it.
“That’s what I’m saying.”
Troy’s anger detonated. “What’re you hiding, Keith?” He stepped closer to the man who’d been his best friend, his closest confidant, since Heather’s murder. He’d been right there, helped Troy through his trouble with women and drinking. He’d gotten Troy the job at the plant his daddy owned. He’d been the best friend a man could want. But something wasn’t right and it wasn’t the alcohol. “What’d you do that you’re not telling me?”
Keith sidestepped to go around him. “I’m going home now. I can’t talk to you when you get like this.”
“Hell no.” Troy grabbed him by the arm and pulled him around. “You’ll tell me what you’re hiding. That’s what you’ll do.”
“What are you talking about, man? You’re drunk.”
“I’m talking about,” Troy moved in nose-to-nose, “what I see in your eyes. The fear. You’re afraid. I want to know why. Don’t even think about playing the Violet card. That shit won’t fly.”
Keith closed his eyes for a moment and dragged in another of those labored breaths. What the hell was wrong with him? Troy didn’t get this. His stomach heaved. Maybe he was fucking hallucinating.
“It’s my alibi … .”
“Your daddy said you were home in bed,” Troy recalled. “What about it?”
“That wasn’t exactly right.”
It was Troy’s turn to feel the fear. He stamped it out.
“I was with another woman.”
Troy felt his gut roll and then clench. “You were cheating on Heather?”
Keith gave a reluctant nod.
“You sonofabitch.” Troy took a swing at him.
Keith ducked just in time, or maybe Troy’s reflexes were off. He wanted to kill Keith; that’s what he wanted to do.
“You were out with another fucking girl when my sister was being murdered?”
“Yes.”
“Goddamn it all to hell.” Troy walked in a circle, couldn’t wrap his mind around this … this was crazy. It had to be a mistake. He suddenly felt far too sober. “She loved you, you sick bastard!”
“Don’t you see,” Keith urged, “I can’t keep doing this to Austin when I … I did what I did.”
Troy looked at him, tried hard to figure his cockeyed reasoning. “You’re dead right what you did was wrong, but your screwing around didn’t kill my sister.”
The silence that thickened between them … the look in Keith’s eyes told Troy there was more.
“What’s the rest of it?” The voice didn’t even sound like it came from him. Hollow … afraid … afraid of what he was about to hear.
Keith wouldn’t look Troy in the eye anymore. “I had too much to drink. I passed out.”
Troy didn’t move, prayed that if there was a God in heaven he wouldn’t let whatever Keith was about to say be as bad as it felt like it was going to be.
“The other woman … she said she woke up that night and I wasn’t in the bed. Then, the next morning I was. I …” He looked at Troy then. “I had blood on my clothes … on my hands. We didn’t know where it came from.”
Red flashed in front of Troy’s eyes. He didn’t remember moving, but suddenly he had Keith pinned to the ground. Images of his sister’s slashed face and throat … the cuts on her arms where she’d fought her attacker floated before his eyes.
“Are you telling me you killed my sister?” Troy growled, his teeth clenched, his fingers digging into Keith’s throat.
Keith gagged, made a choking sound. Troy let up on his grip. He could feel Keith’s heart pounding in his chest. He could smell the blood rushing through his veins. He didn’t ever remember feeling this kind of rage before.
“Answer me!” he screamed, his voice echoed in the empty quarry.
“I … I don’t know.”
The bastard was crying. Troy wanted to kill him. “Damn you.” Troy got up and walked off. He wrestled with the rage that had possessed him like a demon. The air sawed in and out of his lungs. This couldn’t be happening.
Keith pushed to his feet, came up next to Troy, his head hung in defeat or humiliation. “I don
’t know what happened. I can’t believe I would have hurt her … but I just don’t know.”
Troy turned his head, met Keith’s gaze with fire starting to burn in his belly all over again. “Who was she? I want to talk to her. I want to know what time she woke up. Exactly what she saw or heard.”
Keith looked away. “I can’t tell you. If I tell you—”
Troy grabbed him by the shirtfront and shook the hell out of him. “Tell me who you were with that night or I swear to God I’ll kill you, man.”
Fury flashed in Keith’s eyes then. “I can’t tell you!”
They were on the ground again. Troy had his hands around Keith’s throat. He was trying to push Troy off.
“You waited ten fucking years to tell me this.” Troy squeezed harder. “You sonofabitch. You’re no better than Austin.”
“I’m sorry,” Keith cried. “I pray every night that I didn’t do it … but I just don’t know … dammit … I just don’t know.”
“Then you should just fucking kill yourself and get it over with, you goddamn coward, because I’m gonna make you wish you were dead.”
Troy left Keith on the ground and started for his truck.
He was finished here. He needed something a hell of a lot stronger than beer to wash down this kind of betrayal.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
302 Dogwood Drive Monday, July 22, 6:45 A.M.
Justine grabbed a cup of yogurt. She peeled off the foil top and stuck her finger into the rich, creamy strawberry blend. She sucked the yogurt from her finger and moaned.
Food always tasted better after a revitalizing run.
Three miles.
A hot-cold shower with a great new moisturizing wash that she absolutely adored, then some naked time to allow her skin to breathe.
She loved her naked time.
She padded barefoot into the living room and flipped the channel to the news. Draping herself across the sofa, she caught up on world events while she lapped up her yogurt.
The pounding on her front door followed by, “Justine!” reversed the relaxed state she had achieved.
What in the world had happened with Misty now?
Unreasonably annoyed, Justine plopped her yogurt cup on the end table and dropped her feet to the floor. So much for me time before meeting the squad at eight for practice.
She grabbed the throw from the sofa and draped it around her body.
“Justine!”
“Coming!” Jesus, you’d think the world was coming to an end. She strode to the door and released the locks. She and Misty had been friends since they were children. Justine hated when Misty got like this.
“What’s wrong?”
Misty wore the same clothes as yesterday. Her hair had fallen from its clip and was a wild mass of windblown tangles. How could anyone so brilliant be so uncaring about her appearance?
“I …” She shuddered. “I just heard. Keith is dead.”
The world stopped, leaving Justine stunned and unable to breathe for a time she couldn’t accurately measure. “What?”
“They found his body about an hour ago.”
“What happened?” Her voice was accusing, but she couldn’t help that just now.
Misty flared her hands. “Don’t know for sure.”
Justine drew the door open wide. “Come in.”
“I knew you’d want to know,” Misty babbled. “I’m sure Violet is devastated.”
“Yes … she would be.” Justine’s chest ached, reminding her that she needed to breathe. This couldn’t be … not Keith.
Misty rubbed her hands up and down her arms as if she were cold. “It’s terrible. Really terrible. I wanted to be here for you. I knew you’d be upset.”
Justine closed her eyes to the count of three and then she ordered herself to pull it together. She had a practice to supervise in one hour. This was terrible news … but perhaps not totally unexpected now that she was over the initial shock and thought about it. Keith hadn’t been himself since Austin’s return to Pine Bluff. She would need to talk to Ray and find out if it was murder … or suicide.
When she felt composed once more she opened her eyes. “Would you like some coffee?” She could use a cup for sure.
Misty nodded. “Please.”
A glimpse of something red or dark brown on Misty’s arm distracted Justine. “Have you hurt yourself?” She reached out, took Misty’s arm, and inspected it. A nasty gash near the elbow.
“It was a stupid mistake. I fell. It’s nothing.”
Misty, Misty, Misty. “Did you clean it?” The answer was evident. Blood had oozed and dried.
She shrugged carelessly. “I forgot about it.”
“Come on.” Justine ushered Misty into the bathroom and turned on the shower. “As soon as the water’s warm I want you to get in there. Wash your hair and I’ll braid it for you.”
She peered at Justine through her thick glasses. “You’re too good to me, Justine. No one’s ever been as good to me as you.”
Justine ignored Misty’s sentimentality and pointed at the shower. “I’ll be back with coffee.”
With Misty in the shower, Justine pulled on her favorite silk robe. Gold, handmade. A gift she treasured. Pushing away the pain, she went into the kitchen and made a fresh pot of coffee. Her movements felt mechanical.
Poor Violet. And the boys.
Justine braced against the counter. And Granville. He would be completely shattered. His wife was gone. He had no other children. He was all alone. This was such a tragedy. Austin should never have come back here and started this thing.
A sense of purpose filled Justine. She would see that Keith’s father was well taken care of. It was the least she could do. Keith would want her to.
She took her time, sipped her coffee and resumed command of her composure. Yes. Purpose was the key. Her future might very well hinge on how she handled the aftermath of Keith’s death. Granville would need someone … someone like her. The timing was perfect.
When the water stopped running in the shower, she poured another cup and headed to the bathroom to see to Misty’s needs. She was obviously badly shaken. Justine would need to ensure her friend was calm and rational. Misty was far too easily agitated.
“Here you are.” Justine walked in as Misty stepped out of the shower. She clutched the towel close to her chest. “Misty,” Justine scolded. “Don’t be silly. I’ve seen you nude before.”
“But there’s so much light in here.”
Justine set the cup of coffee on the vanity counter and smiled. “Honey, you have nothing to be embarrassed about.” She reached for the towel, tugged it from Misty’s hands. “Just look at you; you’re beautiful.” She took Misty’s hand. “Come with me.”
She led Misty to her bedroom, the steaming coffee forgotten, turned on the light, and positioned her in front of the enormous mirror.
“Now look.”
Droplets of water from Misty’s damp hair slid down her smooth skin. Justine frowned at the claw marks on the back of Misty’s other arm near her shoulder. The notion that she’d most likely gotten those scratches in a struggle twisted inside Justine. Whatever Misty had done, it was too late to do anything about it now.
“I’m ugly,” Misty murmured.
Justine snapped to attention and moved up next to Misty. She pushed the other troubling thoughts aside and smiled. There would be time to sort all that out later. “Absolutely not. See how nicely shaped your breasts are.” She touched one, cupped its roundness, and smiled. She swept her fingers down Misty’s flat belly. “You’re thin, with hips the perfect size.” She dragged her fingers over the nice flare between Misty’s waist and her thighs. “We’ve talked about this before.”
“Not as beautiful as you,” Misty said, looking at Justine in the mirror.
The missing glasses alone made such a difference. Misty’s face was the perfect heart shape. Her eyes big and round. Justine wished she would wear her contacts. “You’re every bit as beautiful as me.”
>
“Show me.” Misty turned to her, reached for the sash at her waist.
Justine didn’t resist. She needed to fill this emptiness widening inside her. She didn’t want to think. She needed to be touched … to be cherished. She could always count on Misty for that. The robe floated to the floor.
Misty touched her. Pressed her lips to Justine’s skin and trailed soft kisses over her breasts as her fingers explored boldly. She ushered Justine down onto the edge of the bed. She lay back, closed her eyes as she spread her legs wide apart in invitation. Misty’s palms slid up her thighs and the feel of her greedy tongue parting her most intimate folds caused Justine’s fingers to fist in the covers. She arched toward the intrusion … wanted to feel … wanted to forget.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
1:55 P.M.
Ray paused at Mary Alice’s desk. “Hold my calls.” Then he went into his office and closed the door.
He swallowed back a howl of misery.
Keith Turner was dead.
Violet had called Ray late last night in a tizzy to say she’d come home from church to find Keith gone and that he hadn’t called or been home since. Ray had assured her that she shouldn’t worry. Keith had probably gone out with some of the guys and forgotten the time. It wouldn’t have been the first time he and his buddies did something so thoughtless and adolescent. Hell, Ray still forgot to call his own wife from time to time when he was caught up in a case or a report.
This morning at six the first shift reporting to work at the quarry had found Keith’s body in the excavation site.
Ray had been there all morning, along with the forensic technicians from the Alabama Bureau of Investigations. Keith’s body had been taken away for an autopsy. It was pretty clear what had killed him, but there were things they needed to assess. Whether or not there had been a struggle prior to his fall. Drugs, alcohol. Stuff that small-town chiefs like Ray didn’t usually have to deal with.
Not since Heather Baker.
He’d just left Violet’s house.
Ray sat down behind his desk and put his face in his hands. Things had been simmering toward this boil ever since Clint was released. The fight Saturday night was no surprise considering the tension eating at the whole town.
