How sweet. I nodded at Mallory. “Then, you drove your car into a tree in your front yard to hide the front-end damage.”
“Well aren’t you smart,” she said.
I looked at Earl. “Did your wife know?”
“Nope. She’d gone to visit her sister in Kentucky. This was between Mallory and me.”
My leg tingled thanks to my awkward position in the trunk. “You were afraid Clara would remember what happened, so you started rumors about her to drive her out of town.”
Mallory smirked. “Clara was always gullible.”
“Meanwhile, you went to college and lived your life like nothing happened.”
“And I’m not going to let you ruin everything I’ve worked for.” She tightened her grip on her revolver.
I squinted at Earl as I pieced together my daddy’s role. “Everything was fine until Daddy served on the football reunion committee with you, right?”
“All them recollections about high school must’ve jogged something in Ray’s memory.” His expression hardened. “I went in to work at the museum one day and caught him nosing around in the microfiche files, looking for articles about Keith Jefferson’s disappearance. Ray played it off nice and smooth, but I knew something was up.”
“Plus, you overheard Daddy ask Fiona Sylvan for Clara’s address, so then you panicked. You knew about the vandalism at Bill Alspaugh’s grain elevator and figured Daddy would drive by after the school board meeting and stop if he saw something wrong.” My throat thickened. “And when he did, you shot him and staged the scene to look like he’d interrupted a robbery.”
“I had to protect my daughter.” His hand trembled, but he kept his grip on the gun.
Rustling sounded in the car. What was Hamlet doing back there?
I looked at Mallory. “Did you have any idea before tonight that Earl killed my daddy?”
“No.” The muscle in her jaw twitched. “I didn’t suspect, or I never would’ve borrowed his gun.”
“I had no reason to tell her about Ray,” Earl said. “Never thought she’d go and kill people on purpose. I was mighty shocked when she called and asked for my help tonight.”
They glared at each other. I had to keep distracting them before they took out their anger on Hamlet and me.
“As long as Clara stayed in Texas, you felt like your secret was safe.” I focused on Mallory and raised my voice to cover the vibrations from Hamlet’s movements.
“When Clara decided to come home after those construction workers found Keith’s body, I was afraid she’d remember we hadn’t hit a deer that night. Plus, her nosy mother was still curious about the Keith Jefferson case because I heard her voice notes in my cloud storage account. Then Beverly taunted me by giving me those old prom pictures.” Mallory scowled. “I had to do something before she and Clara started talking.”
Earl’s eyes flashed. “You shoulda left well enough alone.”
Click. Swoosh.
I felt certain Hamlet had managed to crack open the pass through from the back seat, but I had no way to confirm my suspicions without turning around. But why would he risk upsetting them?
Then it hit me.
Hamlet carried his phone. In his car.
Could he have dialed 9-1-1 with his tied hands?
Please, God. Let it be true.
Either way, I had to keep Earl and Mallory talking. “Earl has an alibi for the barn fire, so it had to be you.” I shifted my numb leg and turned to Mallory. “I never would’ve taken you for a pyromaniac.”
“I don’t suppose you would’ve taken me for a shooter either.” Her face remained expressionless.
“True. You overheard Wanda on the phone with me asking about the trees and decided to go for a two-for-one deal and get rid of Clara and me.”
“Enough!” Mallory shouted. “Dad, get Hamlet out of the car.”
Swoosh. Click.
She kept her weapon pointed at me as Earl opened the door to the backseat. I held my breath, hoping Hamlet would manage to hide his phone—if he’d been able to get to it.
“Slide out nice and slow.” Earl kept his gun aimed at Hamlet.
With his hands bound behind his back, Hamlet emerged from the car and met my gaze. “Are you hurt?”
“N-not yet.” I did a lousy job of keeping the tremor out of my voice. Then I fought a badly timed burst of stress laughter. They had used silver ribbon to tie Hamlet’s hands.
Earl slammed the door shut. A look of calm determination settled over Hamlet’s features when Earl pressed the gun into his side.
“You.” Mallory waved her gun at me. “Get out of the trunk.”
I climbed out, and my panty-hose clad feet protested as the rocks bit into them. My sleeping leg buckled. Goosebumps covered my entire body, and stray snowflakes swirled around us.
“Move toward the pool,” Mallory said.
“You mean the gaping hole in the ground that used to be the Williams family’s pool?” I shouted before clenching my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering.
“Shut up and march.” Hate flared in Mallory’s eyes.
I took a measured step into the dead grass. The faint sound of an approaching vehicle hummed.
“Faster!” Mallory shouted.
I took another step forward, and my heart sank when the vehicle sped by the house.
Please, God.
“I’d like to say something to Georgia before you kill us,” Hamlet said.
I stopped about ten feet away from the hole and turned around with my hands up.
Mallory rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”
“Let him talk,” Earl said. “It’s plain as day the guy has feelings for her.”
“He’s stalling.” Mallory pressed her lips together.
“I wanna hear it,” Earl said. “Don’t you remember what it was like to be young and in love?”
“Fine.” Mallory glared at Earl and then flicked her gaze to Hamlet. “Thirty seconds.”
“When I moved back to Wildcat Springs, I wanted to be close to my family to start my new business. But I’m going to be honest now that we’re facing death. I had you in the back of my mind, Georgia Rae Winston.”
I closed my eyes.
“I’ve been wanting to date you for years, but before now I was always too young.”
Not all that long ago, I’d asked myself how much trauma one person could take. At the time, I didn’t know what trauma was. That was minor drama compared to everything that had happened to me during the last few months.
“I don’t know what to say.” I didn’t have the strength to start babbling.
“Then just listen. I didn’t admit it to myself until you walked into Latte Conspiracies, but I saw you and didn’t want to let you go without a fight. I knew you were taken, so I should’ve known my place.”
“It’s okay,” I whispered.
“No. It’s not. I apologize. You belong with Detective Perkins. He makes you happy, and I have no desire to interfere. After I sell this house, I’m leaving town and settling elsewhere.”
“Hamlet, you don’t have to—”
Mallory snickered. “What’re you talking about? Neither one of you are settling anywhere.” She waved her gun at Hamlet and then pointed to where I was standing. “Get over here.”
He walked over and stood beside me. “Three, two, one…” he whispered.
“Richard County Sheriff’s Department! Lower your weapons!”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Hamlet and I sat in the back seat of Cal’s car with the heat blasting and waited to give our official statements. A kind deputy had found blankets for us.
Mallory and Earl had already been led away from the scene in handcuffs. Hamlet had quite the bump on his head from where Earl had clocked him, but other than being a little frozen, we’d both be fine.
“Did you mean everything you said, or were you stalling?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Hamlet…”
He looked out the window. “I saw Detective
Perkins and the deputies rushing around the perimeter, so I bought them some time.”
“I see.” I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders.
“He’s a good man.”
“I know.”
The silence took a left turn into awkward territory. “How’d you manage to dial 9-1-1 with your hands tied up?”
He chuckled. “My phone fell under the seat on the way to the wedding, and it slid out while they were driving. When they left the car, I picked it up and dialed with my nose.”
“Your nose?” I blinked at him. “That takes talent.”
“Thank you.” He tapped his nose and grinned.
“No. Thank you for saving our lives.”
“It was a joint effort thanks to your well-honed detective skills.” He patted my shoulder, and I pushed away the pinch of regret that he’d be leaving town. It shouldn’t matter.
Should it?
Mom gathered me in a hug as soon as I walked through the back door of my house with Cal at my heels. Though it was almost midnight, a fresh pot of coffee waited on the counter, and Gus scurried over to greet us. I scratched his head.
Dan sat at my kitchen table with Dakota, Stella, Aunt Rhonda, and Uncle Gary. One by one, they each got up and gave me a hug.
Dan shook Cal’s hand. “Good work, Detective.”
“Thanks.” His lips flattened, and he surveyed my family.
Mom poured coffee into my owl mug, stirred in some cream, set it on the table, and motioned to the empty chair. “Sit, sweetie. It’s decaf, so you can sleep.”
“I had decaf?” Normally, I considered the stuff a waste of time.
“No, but we stopped at the convenience store, and Dan bought some for you because I figured you wouldn’t have any.” She turned and poured a cup for Cal who stood next to the counter.
I took a sip and looked at my stepdad. “Thanks.”
He smiled ruefully.
“I can’t believe it’s finally over,” Dakota said. “We know who killed Dad.”
Stella put her arm around Dakota.
I set my mug on the table. “Who’s going to tell Grandpa?”
“I’ll do it,” Aunt Rhonda said. “Tomorrow morning before he and Wanda leave on their honeymoon.” She met my gaze. “If it’s okay with all of you.”
“Absolutely,” Dakota said.
“That’s fine with me,” Mom said.
“Yes.” As much as I loved Grandpa, I didn’t have the strength to break the news. “Thank you.”
Aunt Rhonda nodded, and Uncle Gary took her hand.
It was going to take a while to process everything that’d happened.
The next day, after sleeping until noon, I woke up a with a mission in mind. After making myself look presentable—a difficult task thanks to some massive bags under my eyes—I drove to a grocery store in Richardville and purchased a dozen yellow roses. I chose that color because it contrasted with the drabness of the late winter afternoon.
Then I made my way to the Wildcat Springs Cemetery and followed the winding drive up to the graves. It didn’t take me long to find Beverly’s—piled with wilting flowers from her funeral. I parked, got out, and cleared away the dead flowers. After dumping them in the back of my truck, I took half of my new roses and placed them on the fresh mound of dirt.
“We found the murderers, Beverly.” I sniffed. “I know you’re having a ball up in heaven with your friends and family, and you can’t hear me.” I shoved my hands into my coat pockets. “But I just needed to thank you for your friendship—and for your prayers that we’d find Daddy’s killer.” I buried my face in my hands. “I just wish you hadn’t been part of the answer.”
Taking a shuddering breath, I returned to my truck and drove down the gravel path to the opposite end of the graveyard where Daddy was buried. Every spring, Mom had been faithful to put artificial flowers in the vases on either side of the stone, but she removed them every fall, so they stood empty.
I’d only been able to bring myself to visit once, about six months after Daddy had died. With the rest of the roses in hand, I made my way toward his headstone and placed the flowers in each of the vases.
“You finally have justice,” I whispered and ran my hand over the smooth granite, then sat in the brown grass and wished for the millionth time that he were here to advise me.
The next Sunday afternoon, I played hymns on the piano while Gus snoozed on his bed near the fireplace.
Cal would be here any minute.
It had been a rough week thanks to interviews with the media, Clara’s funeral, and uncertainty about my relationship with Cal. After praying for answers, I’d finally asked Cal over to talk. Before today, his busyness at work had offered me the perfect excuse for stalling.
Stay strong, Georgia Rae.
A knock sounded on my back door, and I placed the furniture polish and rag in my utility room before hustling to answer. “Hey, Cal. Come on in.” I stepped aside. “Have a seat.” I pointed to the kitchen table.
He gazed at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read, but he sat, and Gus entered to see what was happening. Cal scratched his head. “Hey, boy.”
Gus panted and sniffed Cal’s leg.
“How’s Miss Peacock?” I asked.
“Fine. Denise told me I could keep her since she already has a dog of her own, and she has enough going on, trying to work things out with Jack.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m going to have a dog named Miss Peacock.”
I smiled.
“How does it feel to have your dad’s case solved?” he asked.
I sat across from him. “Wonderful. But painful to know my neighbor did it.”
“Yeah. I can imagine.” He studied me. “But you didn’t ask me here to talk about the case.”
“No.” I folded my hands and rested them on the table. My pulse thrummed in my neck, and I forced my brain to get on topic instead of running wild into other possible subjects on which I could babble for a good ten minutes.
Spit it out.
“Where’s our relationship going?” I asked.
Cal was silent for what had to be a full ten seconds, which ticked by at injured tortoise speed. “What do you mean?” He furrowed his brow. “We’ve only been dating a few months.”
I blew out a breath. Not what I’d been hoping for, though his response was what I’d expected. “Right. But we’re not teenagers, and a few months is enough to know if we’re heading for marriage or for burnout. I’m not asking you to propose right this minute. But I’m wondering if that’s a possibility in the future.”
“It’s too soon for me to know for sure.” He shifted.
“That’s why you bought a house.”
He crossed his arms. “It was exactly what I was looking for.”
“It didn’t take long to decide on that, did it?”
He scowled. “Marriage isn’t the same as buying a house, Georgia.”
I flipped my braid back and forth between my fingers. “It’s not just about the house. You don’t whistle any more. When I met you, and we first started dating, you whistled all the time.”
“I’ve been through the wringer the last three weeks.” He let out a cynical laugh. “You’re basing the health of our relationship on the fact that I’m not whistling?”
I understood he’d been overwhelmed, but if a man were in love, wouldn’t he whistle more? Wouldn’t the world, even with all the death and darkness in it, seem like a happier place because of finding the person you wanted to spend your life with?
“Yes.” I met his eyes. “I’m also basing my assessment on your refusal to attend my Bible study.”
“We’ve talked about that. It’s not my thing.”
“Studying the Bible with my friends isn’t your thing?”
“It’s something I do every week at church and on my own, so I’m good.”
“Look, I’m willing to give up my church and go to yours if our relationship progresses, but I won’t abandon my friends. Your unwi
llingness to get to know them freaks me out. They’re taking it personally, and so am I.”
He shook his head. “I don’t get it. We have a good thing going. Why are you trying to ruin it by bringing all this stuff up?”
I squeezed my hands together. “I’m trying to avoid moving forward and causing a bigger mess in the future because we didn’t solve our problems when they were small.” I spoke with more resolve than I felt.
“This is about Hamlet, isn’t it? I heard him say he wants to date you.” He gazed at me with such intensity that I had sympathy for suspects he interrogated.
“No. Didn’t you hear the part about Hamlet leaving town? The problem isn’t him. It’s you holding back. I know you care about me, but you’re not all in, and I don’t know why.”
“I’m sorry.” He crossed his arms. “It’s complicated.”
“How?”
“I’m just going through some things right now that you don’t know about.”
“What things? Your parents’ divorce?”
“Partly.”
“Is it another woman? An old girlfriend?”
“No.”
“What else is there?” What was he hiding?
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
I bristled. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t. My life isn’t a mystery you need to solve.” His eyes flashed.
My breath caught as I froze. “Is that why you’re holding back? Because you resent that I’ve helped solve your cases?” Tears pricked my eyes.
“No. As much as I wish you wouldn’t put yourself in danger, that’s not it.” He refused to meet my gaze. “You’ve been a valuable asset.”
Romantic words every woman dreamed of hearing.
I pressed my fingers against my eyebrows. How could our relationship progress if he wouldn’t share what was bothering him? If he didn’t trust me with his concerns? I looked up. “Do you love me?” I blurted the words before I could think through the consequences.
Cal stared at his hands. “I care about you. A lot.”
“I know. But do you love me?”
He lifted his head. “I don’t know.”
But I did. “Then we need to break up, because clearly, this relationship isn’t right.”
Deadly Heritage Page 18
