Chapter 21
Cheri woke with her heart about to rip through her ribs. She knew if she didn’t concentrate on breathing she might faint. The dream had been so real.
The girl with the ponytail had walked alone in the mist, back and forth on the pier of Paw Paw Lake, wringing her hands as she looked into the black water.
Cheri felt such sadness for her, because she knew poor Barbara Jean would never find what she was looking for, no matter how long she searched. It was futile. Heartbreaking.
Then Cheri was Barbara Jean. Her eyes stared into the depths. Her nervous hands pulled and tugged at each other. Her thoughts were frantic. And she knew with certainty that she must keep searching …
And suddenly, there had been a sound like an explosion of glass as Tanyalee’s face soared up through the depths of the lake, glowing with an eerie light, breaking the surface and coming right at her …
Now fully awake, Cheri shook her head to drive away the image. With a quick check on the soundly sleeping J.J., she slipped from the bed, put on her sweats, and headed for the front porch. She needed air.
Cheri walked out onto the front lawn in her bare feet. The cool night grass tickled the tender skin between her toes. The breeze cleared her head. She looked up and took in the sight of the sky above her—a big black bowl filled to the brim with cosmic glitter.
That’s when it occurred to her—it wasn’t Tanyalee’s face that had burst from the dark water of her dream.
It had been her mother’s.
She wiped her eyes and went back to bed.
* * *
J.J. bolted up from a dead sleep, unsure of his surroundings until he heard the sound again.
“Chit! Chit! Keek! Keet!”
Cheri sat up, too. She clutched at his arm. “Ohmigod, what’s that?”
“Stay here.” J.J. had barely thrown the covers off his legs when the sound of shattering glass made him jump.
Cheri screamed.
“Call Turner on your BlackBerry.”
“Okay. Okay. But be careful!”
J.J. pulled on his jeans and ran into the hallway. He pressed himself against the wall in the shadows, feeling pretty damn useless without anything to protect himself or Cheri. He fell to his hands and knees and crawled toward the fireplace, grabbing the poker and crouching behind the far end of the couch. It had sounded like the breaking glass had come from the kitchen, but he didn’t see anyone.
“Keet! Chit!”
The squirrel squatted not three feet away, her little paws rubbing together in nervousness, staring right at him in the darkness. Even if he’d managed to hide himself from the intruder, his cover had just been blown.
Or maybe there was no intruder. Maybe this damn squirrel …
That’s when J.J. saw that the room had been trashed. Papers were everywhere. A side table was smashed. A loud bang! echoed from the back of the house, followed by the slam of the lean-to’s screen door. He raced toward the kitchen but skidded to a stop when he saw broken glass all around his bare feet. He looked up to see that the kitchen window had been smashed.
J.J. turned and exited the front door, went down the porch steps, and ran around the side of the house. Loose gravel cut into the soles of his feet. The poker was clutched in his hand.
“Keet! Keet!”
The squirrel was at his heels.
“Dammit!” J.J. hissed, spinning around trying to get his eyes to adjust to the dark. He heard no car leaving. He saw no one on foot. Whoever had broken in—for whatever reason—had gotten away.
* * *
“What the hell is all this?” Turner stood in the open front door of the lake house and gestured to the papers tossed all over the living room. “Everybody okay?”
Cheri nodded from her place on the floor, where she sat cross-legged and slumped over.
“Come on in and join the party,” J.J. said.
Cheri watched Turner take careful steps into the room and assess the situation in seconds—broken kitchen window, vandalized personal belongings, family photographs tossed in the smoldering ash of the fire.
Turner whistled long and low when he noticed that last bit.
Cheri fessed up. “I probably shouldn’t have touched anything, but I pulled the picture frames out of the heat. I wanted to save them.”
“Understandable,” he said. Cheri didn’t miss the silent exchange between J.J and Turner.
“Anything missing?” Turner asked.
“Not that I noticed,” she said.
“Time this occurred?”
“I’d say about two-fifteen, ” J.J. said.
“Did you see anyone?”
“The breaking glass woke us up,” J.J. said. “I heard the door slam out on the lean-to, but by the time I got outside no one was there. No car, that was for sure.”
“We would have heard a car,” Cheri added.
Turner wandered into the kitchen, stepping over glass. He examined the drainboard and the windowsill, then tapped his boot against the large creek rock sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor.
He turned toward them, an eyebrow raised. “Looks like whoever stopped by wanted to make some noise and a mess. Looks like they were leaving you a message.”
“No kidding,” Cheri muttered.
Turner walked back into the living room and smiled down at Cheri, still sitting cross-legged by the fireplace.
“You know you got a rabid squirrel on your property?”
“She’s not rabid. She’s pregnant.”
“I stand corrected.” Turner tugged on his gun holster and obviously tried to suppress a smile. “But if you’re gonna be living all the way out here on your own you might want to get yourself some protection other than a pregnant squirrel. The sheriff’s department sponsors gun safety classes for citizens.”
She groaned. “I hate guns.”
Turner squinted, trying to get a better look at what Cheri cradled in her hand.
“Oh,” she said, sighing. “Yeah. I found this on the floor. Whoever broke in must have dropped it.”
Turner came closer and peered at the lustrous mother-of-pearl hair comb in Cheri’s hand. “Very pretty. Looks antique. You recognize it?”
“Sure,” Cheri said, figuring that was a rhetorical question she didn’t need to answer. “Any suggestions on what I do now, Turner?”
He pulled off his ball cap and sat down on the couch, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Well, I can call in the evidence techs to dust for prints on the rock and on the picture frames and such, and I can head over to get a statement from—the suspect—and see if they can account for their whereabouts, but the real question is, do you want to press charges or do you want to handle it more, uh, privately?”
Cheri glanced at J.J.
“I don’t want to press charges,” she said.
Turner shrugged, hopped up from the couch, and put his cap back on. “Then, as long as no one is hurt, I’d say y’all get the window fixed and set about having a little heart-to-heart with your … uh … the suspect.”
“Thanks for coming over,” J.J. said, giving Turner a quick man-hug.
“I do love my job,” Turner said with a dramatic sigh. “But I gotta be honest, with the threatening letters and the break-ins, y’all at the Bugle are making my life a living hell.” He winked. “’Night.”
Chapter 22
The next morning, Cheri sat in the brightly lit waiting room of the intensive care unit of Western Carolina Medical Center, patting Granddaddy on the shoulder.
Purnell had drifted into a coma overnight, and the doctors said he had only a twenty percent chance of coming out of it.
“I’m sorry, Granddaddy,” she said again.
“Well, shee-it,” he sighed. “Hardly worth getting up every day once everyone you came up with has kicked the bucket.” His vacant stare fell on the elevators out in the hall. “My brother was first, you know, dying in the war, and then your gramma, and your daddy and mama, then old Chester, now Purnell.”
<
br /> She slipped her arm up and around his bony shoulder.
“At least I still got my girls,” he said, a hint of a smile at his lips.
“Yep. All three of us—Tanyalee, Viv, and me.”
He laughed.
“Granddaddy? What exactly did Tanyalee do that you had to file charges against her?”
“What’s past is past,” he said, tapping her knee with his big, spotted hand. “She’s human and she made a mistake. She paid for it. It’s over. She’s family, and family forgives.”
“All right.” Cheri sat for a moment, thinking about last night’s break-in and preparing for her next question. “What has Tanyalee been telling you and Viv about me over the years?”
He turned his head and searched her face. “Nothing I paid any attention to, Cheri. Now, Vivienne is another matter. She’s a flibbertigibbet, you know, into the girlie things like weddings and babies and such, things she got to experience with Tanyalee, at least for a bit. So that brought them closer.”
Cheri blinked.
“But she loves you something awful,” he said, one corner of his mouth twitching. “She ran around like a headless chicken when I told her you were coming home. Should’ve seen the old gal…”
Cheri chuckled. “Like she is right now getting ready for this party we’re having.”
“Lord-a-mighty! Half the town is coming! I told her we might as well host my wake while we’re at it since I won’t have two dimes to rub together after this blowout.”
“I thought you called them shindigs back in the day.”
One of Granddaddy’s bushy white eyebrows floated high on his brow.
“Gladys told me all about your legendary get-togethers at the lake.”
He laughed and shook his head, embarrassed. “There was no call for that.”
“It certainly sets the bar mighty high for any future parties I might host.”
Granddaddy pulled her tight to his side, and Cheri leaned her head on his chest.
“Your daddy would be so damn proud of you, Cheri,” he whispered. “I’ve heard nothing but good things about your instincts, and your energy, and your willingness to try new things. I told you this publisher thing was in your blood.”
She didn’t move. She didn’t breathe. She wanted to blurt it all out right there. I’m broke. I lost everything. I’m not the successful businesswoman you imagine me to be. I’m a phony. Don’t trust me. I’m a failure.
“And I have to admit, I’m damn glad you and J.J. are getting along so well.”
Cheri rolled her eyes. It was like Bigler had its own Homeland Security division, focused exclusively on her home, her land, and her private comings and goings.
“Now all we have to do is get Tanyalee to settle herself with you being back. Because we would sure like it if you stayed, sugar. We’d like you to come on home for good. I would like you to stay.”
Cheri steeled herself. She sat up straight and looked into her grandfather’s tired eyes. She owed him the truth.
“Mr. Newberry?”
Cheri and Granddaddy whipped their heads around to face the nurse who’d just spoken.
“Yes?”
Cheri helped Granddaddy to a stand.
“The doctors wanted me to tell you to go on home now. Mr. Lawson’s unable to see visitors and it’s not expected his status will change in the near future.”
“But I just—” Cheri felt Granddaddy’s body tremble. “I wanted to say good-bye to my friend.”
“I understand,” the nurse said kindly. “But that’s not possible.”
“Just let me say something to him before I go. No one has to know.”
The nurse looked around her and sighed. “All right, but y’all will have to be quick about it.”
Cheri walked with him to a room down the hall and waited while the nurse opened the door and gestured for them to go in. Granddaddy came to a stop by the bed and Cheri remained behind him. She couldn’t look at Purnell. Her grandfather was whispering good-bye to a loving friend, a friend he didn’t know had been stealing him blind for forty-plus years. She couldn’t watch.
She drove him home in the pimpmobile. He remained silent for most of the twenty-minute trip. Cheri knew that everything about this was wrong—the timing, the message, the way she was going about it. But she had no choice. It would be far worse if he found out indirectly that his granddaughter had handed his lifelong friend over for prosecution—while the man lay in a coma.
“I know you think of Purnell as family and you believe in forgiving family, but what he’s done to the paper is really bad.”
He turned his face toward her. She could see he’d been crying. “Your daddy tried to tell me the same thing, just before he died. I thought he was being too hard on Purnell. I thought he was overreacting.”
Cheri’s spine stiffened. Follow the money. “What did he tell you, exactly?” Her mind immediately went to all her father’s personal documents in a box at the lake house. Had she missed something?
Granddaddy shook his head as he tried to recall. “Only that there was money missing. He didn’t know how much or where it went to, but he implied Purnell was up to no good.”
Cheri’s hands gripped the wheel. “I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Why didn’t you get the paper audited right then? Why didn’t you confront Purnell? He was stealing from the Bugle!”
Granddaddy shrugged. “Things happened so fast, Cheri. Your daddy and mama died. There was the funeral. Raising you girls. And Purnell was right next to me the whole time. Then his wife died of cancer. His health started to fail. I know you don’t understand, but I just figured if he was skimming a few thousand off the top here and there it wouldn’t kill us. So I just let it go.”
Un-fuckin’-believable. The time had come for a little rendezvous with reality.
“It was closer to three quarters of a million dollars over the course of forty-seven years.”
Granddaddy said nothing. She glanced over at him and his face had blanched. Even his lips had drained of color. For a second, Granddaddy looked as sickly as Aunt Viv’s Caucasian lawn jockey. Cheri checked the road and looked to Graddaddy again. “Breathe,” she told him.
He sucked in a lungful of air.
“You okay?”
He nodded. The color slowly returned to his face.
“There’s something else you need to know.”
He nodded.
“I’m obligated to take my findings to the police.”
“Sweet baby Jesus,” he said.
Cheri’s BlackBerry rang. She reached in her purse and answered the call.
“Hi, J.J.—I’m driving back from the hospital with Granddaddy and I have you on speaker.”
There was an instant of silence. Obviously, J.J. was revising his greeting for general audiences.
“They’ve ID’d Barbara Jean’s body,” J.J. said. “We now have an official homicide investigation.”
“Bad news always comes in clumps of three,” Granddaddy said to no one in particular. “I wonder what’s next?”
* * *
“Wim!”
“Find something else?”
“Oh, hell’s bells, yes,” Tanyalee said. She waited for Wim to poke his head out from the back office door. “I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried,” she said, pointing to the computer screen, so excited her hand shook.
“Cheri and Candy are b-r-o-k-e, baby,” she said, her voice a reverent whisper. “They’re being sued by six different companies for nonpayment. Cheri’s house is in foreclosure and Candy unloaded hers in a short sale. Both their cars were repossessed. They’re in arrears out their asses.”
“Damn,” Wim said. Tanyalee felt him move closer to the back of her chair. “You sure know your way around cyberspace, baby.”
“I also found their joint eBay account. In the last year they’ve sold everything from jewelry to gym memberships under their real names. They’re living in some six-hundred-dollar-a-month furnished studio in a big-box buildin
g in a not-so-great section of Tampa. I’m telling you, Wim…” Tanyalee spun around in her chair to find him right up against her, breathing heavily. “She’s not rich. She’s got nothing—less than nothing.”
It was then that Tanyalee realized she’d started to unbutton her own blouse.
“She’s not smart,” she added.
Tanyalee pulled at Wim’s belt and unzipped him.
“She’s not classy.”
She spread her legs wide and hiked up her skirt.
“She’s just a total failure, baby. A damn loser.”
Wim scooped her up with one hand while he unhooked her bra and mauled her breast with the other. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Tanyalee realized it was the smoothest move she’d ever seen him execute.
“I’m gonna fuck your brains out,” Wim growled into her ear.
Tanyalee nearly swooned, then remembered it was not even ten A.M. on a Monday and the front door to the real estate office was unlocked. “We should—” Wim slammed his mouth down on hers, cutting her off.
“Get back there in my office, you fuckin’ brilliant little tart,” he said. “Bend over the desk. Pull your panties to the side. Do it.” Wim glared at her. “Now.”
“Oh, God, yes.” Tanyalee ran into the back office and assumed the position. When she heard the click of the lock, she nearly came all over herself.
Chapter 23
In between editorial meetings, special project planning sessions, gun shopping, meet-and-greets with potential advertising clients, a speaking engagement at the Lion’s Club, and three more visits to Purnell’s intensive care room with Granddaddy, Cheri completed the financial analysis by Thursday afternoon.
She left a copy on J.J.’s desk. She kept a copy for Granddaddy. And she drove over to the municipal complex to deliver a copy to Turner, but he was out on a call.
“Frankly, I wouldn’t count on him getting back to you on this right away,” his secretary told Cheri. “The homicide case has him going twenty-four hours a day. He’ll have to review it and determine if it should go to the district attorney over in Waynesville.”
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