by Paula Boyd
“Nope. That was in his own head,” I said reasonably calmly, considering the implication. “I very specifically told his wife that he could take all the time he needed to recuperate.” I crossed my arms. “Besides that, did you forget who helped him not die this morning?”
“I don’t know about any of that,” Leroy said, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. “I just know you’ve got problems out here, and more cropping up all the time. Even before this, there was all kinds of talk.”
Oh, no, I saw where this was going and I was nipping it in the bud right now. “You are smarter than that, Leroy.”
The deputy raised his eyebrows, not sure if he was being complimented or chastised.
I didn’t wait for him to figure it out. “Just because Waverman was acting like some kamikaze homing pigeon, determined to kill himself on this one little patch of red dirt, does not make it my problem.”
“Yes, well…” he said, hopefully confirming that he understood the “not my problem part.”
“As for the local rumor mill, I really don’t care.” As soon as I said the words, I knew they weren’t true. Ignoring grapevine gossip had worked out very poorly for me in the past. “So exactly what are people saying?”
“There’s talk that the stuff you’ve got in the ground here is why so many people have been getting cancer.”
I was a little taken aback, but not totally. Thanks to my ever-helpful attorneys, I already knew that cancer rates in the area were abnormally high and that causal fingers pointed to industrial sources. Other fingers needed to be pointed at food and lifestyle, but those were personal issues that required personal choice and personal action choices, but that was a separate issue. “Unless this one pit of buried waste is flowing directly into the water supply for the entire area—and Waverman’s report says it isn’t—it cannot be the sole cause of everyone’s problems. Besides, there are tons of state and federal regulations to comply with, which is why we’re doing the testing—prove where it is and prove when it’s gone. Go share that with the DQ debate club.”
Leroy hitched up his pants as he thought about that. “All I know is that Waverman went down twice out here. Gotta be a reason.”
Before I could give him a reason—such as stupidity—I heard an engine start up behind me. I turned and saw an older dark green and tan pickup pull out from the mass of vehicles. Since I was standing sort of in the road, I took a few steps back. Good thing too, because the truck was picking up speed. As it whizzed by, I saw Phillip Finch behind the wheel and bunch of ice chests in the back.
“Jerry’s coming now,” Leroy said, then frowned. “It’d sure make it easier on all of us if you didn’t get yourself mixed up in some kind of trouble all the time.”
No kidding. I would be especially pleased about that myself.
Deputy Leroy turned and walked away. He stopped for a brief chat with the sheriff then headed back to the center of activity.
As Jerry walked toward me, the compulsion to defend myself—again—gurgled up, but I swallowed it down and just said, “Hey.”
“Looks like a heart attack,” the sheriff said, cutting to the chase. “But we won’t know for sure until he’s evaluated.”
Evaluated. That was a gentle term for what Doctor-Doctor-Doctor Travis did with dead bodies. Not wanting to delve into that any deeper, I gave Jerry a rundown of what I knew, including the calls from Waverman’s wife and Finch.
“It will be a while before we know anything more,” Jerry said. “You don’t have to stay here.” He dropped his official face for just a moment and smiled. “Go home, Jo.”
That did sounds good. “Okay,” I said, nodding. “First though, I better go talk to Gilbert Moore and make sure he doesn’t do anything else until we figure out who’s going to be in charge, assuming we can continue to work.”
“This isn’t a crime scene.” He hadn’t said “yet,” but it sure sounded like he could have. “You can keep working.”
Again, I heard the unspoken words “for now.” It could have just been my imagination and past history toying with me, but I sure got the feeling that Jerry was suspicious of something. “Anything else you want to tell me?”
He smiled a little. “Gilbert’s still here if you want to talk to him.”
Okay, got it. Whatever he was thinking, he wasn’t ready to share. “Yeah, I do. As nauseating as the idea may be, I’m thinking he could run things temporarily. Finch would be the logical choice, but he’s not a leader. He seems to get things done when he knows what to do, but without someone telling him what to do, I think he’d just fold.” I shook my head. “Never mind all that. Do you know where Gilbert is?”
“He’s at the tents. I’ll send him over.” Jerry paused and looked at me with the non-sheriff look that I far prefer. “Then go home and relax, okay?”
“Any chance you’ll get to join me when you finish up here?” I asked, already knowing the answer. When he started to explain, I stopped him. “Just call and let me know what you can Jerry. I’ll see you when I see you.”
I was not happy about any of this, but not seeing Jerry somehow seemed to be the biggest blow. I could see that he wasn’t happy about it either. Apparently I was still frowning when Gilbert Moore walked up, because he said, “I’d be pissed off too. Can’t catch a break, can you?”
Obviously not, but my personal trials and tribulations weren’t the point at the moment. “Do you know what happened?”
“No. I was over at the rig.” He tucked his left hand in his pocket, probably to relieve pressure on his unhealed shoulder. “Can’t do a damn thing about all that, but I can make sure this job gets finished.” He paused, a serious look on his face. “I’m going to be blunt.”
“When are you not?”
He grinned. “It’s part of my charm.”
“No, really it isn’t.”
Gilbert’s face became serious again. “I meant what I said about Finch. He’s not capable of running this job. I am. If you want to get this done, I’ll take over in the morning.”
“You’d make it a whole lot easier for me to do that if you weren’t such a jerk.”
“I’m good at what I do,” he said simply. “You don’t have to like me. I’ll get the job done anyway.”
I hated admitting it, but I believed him. I also believed I probably wouldn’t like his methods. “What about Finch?”
Gilbert straightened his tall frame even taller and looked down at me with a blank face and unwavering gaze. “He doesn’t have the backbone to fight. He’ll do what he’s told.”
The whole intimidation thing was impressive—I’d give him that—but it wasn’t going to work on me. I straightened myself up to my own lofty height of almost 5’4” and crossed my arms. “Explain to me again why I need to hire a narcissistic bully to run my project?”
“Because I’m good,” Gilbert said, grinning and crossing his arms to match my gesture. “You also don’t have any other choice.”
Chapter 27
After informing Gilbert Moore that he was not all that and a bag of chips, and that I had plenty of other choices, I hired him. Yes, I did. In spite of his extensive character flaws, I did believe he could do the job. There were details to be worked out in the morning—few of which I’d probably like—but for tonight, it was a relief to have one less monkey on my back.
As I drove up the hill to the house, the weight on my shoulders even started to feel a little lighter. The lights were on in the living room when I pulled up and I saw someone walk across the room. It was a small person, definitely not Emmajean or Clove. My heart started to race. “What the hell?” I said, wondering who was in my house and why.
Then, as soon as I’d asked the question, my brain cells kicked in and gave me the answer—Melody. Clove had parked her car where it couldn’t be seen, just to be safe, so it was easy to forget that. Still, a wave of guilt washed over me. I hadn’t even thought about her and Doris. And what about my own mother? I’d only been gone an hour and a half or so, but in
Lucille-time that was like three days—a lot could happen. I grabbed the phone and dialed.
“Well, it’s about time!” Lucille said in dramatic hushed tones. “I’m in the thick of it here!”
“What’s going on?” I said, sounding tired even to my own ears. “Do I need to come get you?”
“No! You’re not to come back here at all, it would blow my cover. Things are starting to heat up again and we don’t want to scare them off.”
“We who? Have you seen Perez?”
“He’s rolling around the halls in his chair, checking things out. He nodded to me, so I think he wants to meet up at dinner like we’d planned.”
I doubted that was what he wanted, but it was certainly what he was going to get. “Are you feeling okay, Mom?”
“I’m perfectly fine, as you well know. That stupid walker they forced on me has turned out to be a good cover though, because I can go real slow to check things out. That snotty director’s been watching me. I’ve also seen Nurse Linda flitting through the halls. I tried following her, but some wet-behind-the-ears little assistant caught me. Talked to me like I was an idiot, telling me I wasn’t supposed to carry the walker, like I didn’t know any better. Stopped right there in the hall and showed me how I was supposed to use it. The very nerve! I had to bite my tongue and nod like an imbecile. The little twit made me hobble back to my room and watched me every step of the way. I’ve kept my door open, but I haven’t seen…. What’s that?” She paused. “Somebody’s coming.” Click.
“And goodbye to you too, Mother,” I said.
Yes, I was curious who she’d seen—and a tad concerned over what she might be compelled to do about it—but I wasn’t panicked. Knowing Nurse Linda was there amped things up a bit. But to be fair, the woman could’ve just been doing her job—in the lab and the cover-your-ass house call the next morning. Perez playing patient was a surprise, since last I’d overheard, Director Hall was loudly opposed to it. I wondered if she’d told him her staff had been warned he was coming. Whatever the case, they had been warned and the evidence was probably already long gone. However, with nothing to find, Lucille would be relatively safe.
Allowing myself to mentally check one more worry off my list for tonight, I parked the car and went inside.
Melody hopped up and met me at the door, her long simple dress flowing around her. “Clove told us about your consultant collapsing. Is he okay?”
“No. And Travis gets to figure out how not okay he really was.”
“Are you sure?” Melody said, frowning. “I just spoke with Travis a few moments ago and he didn’t mention anything. In fact, he said things were unusually quiet.”
“Well, I know he was taken to Redwater.” I shrugged. “Maybe they had to take him to the hospital first, official protocol or something,” I said, walking to the kitchen to fix a cup of tea. “How’s your mom doing?”
“She’s doing better,” Melody said, the relief obvious in her voice. “I could probably take her back to her house tomorrow, but we can’t do that and think taking her to my home in Dallas would be hard on her.”
“No, don’t risk it either way,” I said. “Until this is settled, you can’t take her back to her house.” I grabbed my mug and walked toward the living room, which was on the way to my bedroom and soon-to-be private sanctuary. “I may not be a very good host—or even a host at all—but you’re welcome here as long as you want to stay.”
“Thank you,” Melody said, then paused and pressed her lips together, twisting them from side to side. “I know you’re exhausted, but I really do need to share a message about an envelope that the attorneys gave you that I need to share.”
I did not like the phrasing of that statement. Because unless Grant had stopped by while I was gone and told Melody things he couldn’t tell me over the phone, I didn’t know how she could know about the envelope.
“They’re very easy to communicate with,” she said. “The messages have been very clear. Do you know what envelope they’re talking about?”
Yes, I knew, and I also knew Melody was getting her information from a source I’d rather not think about. It didn’t stop me from uttering a silent plea though. Please, no flickering lights tonight. Please. I took a deep breath. “Yes, I stuck that envelope in a duffel bag right after I got it and haven’t thought of it since.”
“It seems very important that you go through it as soon as possible.”
“Okay.”
This is going to sound a little strange,” she said, as if everything up to now had been perfectly ordinary. “They want you to get four bunches of flowers and go to the cemetery. Put one out for your dad, then walk around a little bit. They say you’ll know what to do.” She stopped my protest and smiled. “That’s all they’ll tell me. But please, do it so they’ll stop bothering me.”
And when would everyone and everything stop bothering me? “By all means. If the spirits of my biological parents want me to go to the cemetery, I will get right to it.”
The lights flickered and Melody giggled. “They’re happy you’ve agree to go.”
Made exactly one of us—especially since I’d just mentally begged them not to do the flicker thing. “Can I presume that my compliance is a step toward keeping the lights on—and the weirdness off?”
Melody just laughed. “It’s really not as crazy as it sounds.”
“Yes, really, it is.” It was just a different version of crazy in a day already filled to the brim with it. And I’d had more than enough. Feeling myself start to fade, I said, “I think I’m going to call it a night.”
“Good idea,” Melody said, smiling. “But you might want to check the door first.” She started walking toward her room. “There’s a sheriff there.”
I spun around and hurried to let Jerry in. As he closed the door and stepped toward me, I asked the one and only question I wanted answered, “Can you stay?”
He pulled me to him and looked down into my eyes. “Yes.”
Relief melted through me and it was all I could do not to cry. I let out a deep sigh and leaned my head against his chest. “I’m really glad.”
He hugged me closer, resting his head against mine and gently running his fingers through my hair. “It’s going to get easier for us, Jo. It is.”
I wanted to believe him—I really did. But whatever was in the cards for the future, we had it really good tonight.
Chapter 28
As usual, after a night with Jerry, the next morning came way too soon. Thankfully, the most serious thing we had discussed was what to have for breakfast. It was a nice respite and I didn’t want it to end. Still, I wanted to know when they’d be doing the autopsy on Waverman. “Have you heard anything on Waverman?”
“Not since last night,” Jerry said, carrying his plate to the sink. “He was listed in good condition.”
“What? What does that mean?”
“There was evidence of a minor heart attack, but it wasn’t the sole source of the episodes. They have more tests scheduled for this morning. He’s in a regular room if you want to call and talk to him.”
Regular room? Talk to him? My mouth hung open. I know because I felt it. “But Finch told me he was dead.”
“He probably looked dead.” Jerry set his dishes on the counter and turned toward me. “He just panicked and jumped to conclusions. It happens.”
I could understand that since I’d sort of done the same thing, only Waverman had started gasping and hacking to prove he wasn’t dead. “I’m really glad he’s okay,” I said, sincerely. “And I will call to check on him.” I shook my head. “But Finch… Well, it just makes me feel better about hiring Gilbert.” I checked the clock on the wall—6:40. “Which means I’ll be sharing all this happy news in about twenty minutes.”
Jerry wrapped his arms around me. “Take it easy today, okay?”
“Oh, you bet. Today is going to be a walk in the park. No problems for me today, I’m certain of it.”
“Are you going to see your Mo
ther?” Jerry asked, homing in on the most obvious problem. “She told me not to come, that I would blow her cover. More importantly, the director was calling for my head on a platter and my hands in cuffs.” I shrugged. “So, yes, I’ll go after my trip to the cemetery.” I shook my head at his questioning look. “Don’t even ask, because I promise you don’t want to know.”
“Perez isn’t going to arrest you,” Jerry said. “But the last message I had from him said they weren’t finding anything of concern.”
“Yeah, they were tipped off that the police were coming. There’s probably not much to find now.”
He hugged me tighter. “Keep me updated on what’s going on.”
I wanted to ask if he’d be back tonight, but he couldn’t answer that any better than I could. The one thing I did know was that he wanted to—and that meant a lot.
Emmajean arrived about the time Jerry left. She wasn’t happy that I hadn’t called her to come cook, but I hadn’t thought about it. I told her that Melody and Doris would probably be leaving in the morning and she seemed a little sad. I think she really did enjoy having a houseful of people. At some point, I wanted to hear her story and really get to know more about her. Right now, however, I had a meeting of the minds on the jobsite.
Heading the Buick slowly down the hill, I had five minutes or so to ponder what my life had become—and was still becoming. My whole world had turned upside down and it just kept turning. Aside from breathing, nothing I was doing on a daily basis even remotely resembled my old life. It wasn’t what I wanted to be doing, but I didn’t want to go back to how it was either. I hated to admit it, but Waverman’s brushes with death had hit me harder than I’d thought and it was making me look harder at my own choices—not that I actually had any anymore.
As I pulled slowly up to the tents, Gilbert and Finch were already there. Waverman, thankfully, was not. I don’t think any of us could have lived through round three. That didn’t mean I was totally out of the woods on potential personal emergencies.
