Stop the self-pity. I had to decide what to do next. Until I formulated a plan to deal with this new development, the first order of business was hiding Ainsley’s necklace. No matter how much Delaney pushed, I’d confess nothing. I wouldn’t go back to Cottonwood. Not voluntarily.
My eyes scanned the dim room. Where could I stash this that would be safe from Delaney’s prying? No dresser drawer or closet would do, and under the mattress or bed would be the first place she’d search for possible hidden secrets. The burlap bag of peanuts in the corner caught my eye. Perfect. Delaney hated the crows and would never think to feed them. I grabbed the necklace and hurried to the corner.
My bare feet tingled as the floor slightly vibrated beneath them. I froze, hardly daring to breathe. The vibration paused, then returned, and paused and resumed again. Footsteps. The pulsing grew stronger with each footfall. The doorknob slowly turned.
My eyes darted from the bed to the burlap bag as I debated what to do. Jump under the covers with the incriminating evidence in hand, or stuff the necklace in the bag? That moment’s hesitation cost me.
Delaney poked her head in my room and then entered. “I saw your light on. What are you doing?”
I fought the impulse to jam my hands behind my back. Instead, I turned my back on her and got back into bed, drawing the sheets over me with one hand and with the other dropping the jewelry beneath the covers. I sat with my back propped on pillows against the headboard, hands folded in my lap. “Don’t ever come in here without knocking,” I said with a calmness I was far from feeling.
“Just wanted to make sure you were all right. I heard noises.” She pointed to the unfastened drawer and the mess on the floor. “What happened here?”
“I was looking for one of my crystals that’s gone missing. Not that it’s any of your business.”
We eyed one another, the silence glutted with suspicion. Her lily of the valley scent perfumed the air, cloyingly sweet.
Delaney eased onto my bed and crossed her legs, then leaned sideways, her right hand pressing down on the mattress, right where Ainsley’s necklace lay hidden. I swallowed hard and kept my gaze on her face, determined not to betray my anxiety by looking down at her hand.
“You still believe in magic crystals?” She laughed. “Those aren’t going to save you.”
My heart beat faster. Did she know what lay beneath her fingertips? I couldn’t help myself. My eyes darted to Delaney’s hand, where her long, elegant fingers tapped against the sheets.
“Save me from what?” I asked, firmly facing her once more.
“Yourself.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I’m just fine.”
“You look . . . scared. Like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Oh, Delaney knew about the jewelry, all right. Which meant she’d orchestrated tonight’s discovery. I saw it in the half-turned curl of her lips and the gleam of amusement in her slightly narrowed eyes.
She extended her index finger and ran a long, pink-tipped nail down my arm. My skin tingled all over, and not in a good way.
“You’ve got goose bumps,” she said in that soft, trilling voice I despised.
“I was chilled.”
“In the middle of an Alabama summer? I think not.”
I folded my arms across my chest, and she withdrew her hand.
“You’re still mad over my run-in with Libby.”
“Of course I am. You have no right to attack my friends, especially when a child’s present.”
“I was kindness itself when it came to little Kenny.”
“Calvin.”
“Whatever. Just so you know, Libby’s the one who started all the drama between us. Not my fault she doesn’t know how to hold on to a man.”
“You didn’t have to start seeing her boyfriend. She was pregnant—”
“We’re blood. You don’t choose friends over family.”
Some family. “I owe you nothing,” I said flatly.
Delaney’s eyes darkened to a midnight hue, the shade of a moonlit night swirling with black storm clouds. “You owe me everything. We both know you murdered Ainsley.”
Automatically, my mouth formed to deny her accusation. The tip of my tongue pressed the ridge behind my front teeth, and my lips pursed to say no.
She arose slowly, pointedly glancing down at the upturned drawer by the edge of the bed. “There’s evidence against you.”
I steeled myself, tamping down my heart’s violent pulse. If I showed any weakness, she’d pounce on me like a starving jaguar. She’d planted the necklace here. It had to be her. I didn’t know how, but she’d managed it. I, too, glanced at the dresser and then shifted my gaze back to Delaney. “What evidence? Nothing incriminating down there.”
“God, you’re stupid. You think that’s it? There’s more where that came from.”
I couldn’t help my quick intake of breath. More? What else could there be? “How did you find . . . what . . . I don’t . . .” My brain felt fuzzy as cotton, and I couldn’t form words out of the chaos of questions she’d ignited.
“I warned you before.” Her flat, dead voice stabbed with every word. “Go confess to the detectives investigating the murder. Don’t put us, or yourself, through a trial.”
“But—”
“It’ll be much easier on everyone that way.”
She turned in a flurry of pink silk and strolled away. At the door, Delaney glanced back over her shoulder, spearing me with stern eyes.
“Do it by the end of the week. If you don’t, I’ll tell them everything myself.”
Panic tightened my chest, burning my lungs. The bottle of anxiety pills in my purse tugged at me with a sudden riptide of need. But no. I’d already taken some medicine. Could I really pull off what Libby had suggested? I had to try. I thought of the years I’d spent pulling off a tough-girl act at Cottonwood. Around the women in my dorm, I’d never let them witness any weakness or vulnerability. I’d kept my sorrow and worry contained until either it was lights-out at night or I was able to walk about the closed-in yard and listen to the birds flying freely above and around me.
I’d done it before. I could do it again.
Chapter 31
DELANEY
Present day
What would it be tonight—diamonds or pearls?
My fingers hovered over the velvet-lined jewelry box, then plucked up the diamond stud earrings. After my most-anticipated dinner with Normal’s newest Peach Queen beauty pageant contestants, I’d meet Eddie for a night of dancing in Huntsville. It beat our usual date, which consisted of drinking wine out of plastic cups at the local Foxy Lady motel, followed by a satisfying fuck, after which he returned home to his wife. Not that I cared. I didn’t want Eddie’s name or devotion, only the monthly check he deposited into my bank account. And truthfully, he was a good companion on those nights when the loneliness and isolation out here became more than I could bear.
I put on the earrings and then turned sideways, checking out my profile in the full-length mirror. The expensive cocktail dress accentuated my curvy hips and legs, while my gold necklace, with its diamond carat, nestled snugly in my cleavage. That would draw a few eyes. My lips curled as I imagined attracting a new lover. Sex with Eddie was okay, but I wanted someone new and exciting. A big-spender type of guy who liked a little kink with his sidepiece of ass. A type of guy who let me call all the shots and stay in control. I would never let any man boss me around the way Dad had my stepmother. The way he’d ruled over all of us. I might have been his favored daughter, but I didn’t always escape unscathed from his drunken tempers.
“You’re all gussied up. Got big plans tonight?”
Violet lounged in the doorway, wearing cutoff shorts and a tank top, her hair pulled up in a topknot, the way she wore it to work. Loose tendrils of her dark hair had fallen, framing her delicate facial features. She was tall enough and striking enough to be a damn model. Without even trying, Violet exuded sexiness with a natural, exotic beauty that outshone me
. And didn’t that just piss me off. The stupid witch didn’t have a clue how to use her wares.
“This little dress? Eh, I bought it at Walmart.” I whirled back to the mirror and fiercely brushed my carefully curled hair.
“I’ve never found anything that nice at Walmart.”
But Violet didn’t need designer outfits to draw attention to her striking beauty, whereas I needed all the help I could get. I watched through the mirror as she leisurely strolled across my bedroom. Violet casually pulled off the elastic holding the bun, and her hair cascaded down past her shoulders in perfect waves.
“Nice jewelry too,” she commented.
I flashed a wide smile. “The wonders of cubic zirconia.”
“Is that so?” Violet perched on my bed, crossing her long legs. Dark eyes assessed me.
I flung the brush on my dresser and slipped into a pair of strappy, sequined sandals. With heels, of course—my own short legs needed enhancement to give the illusion of height that Violet possessed by birth. I’d hated Hyacinth, but I wouldn’t have minded inheriting her looks. The Hendersons had a certain blond appeal, but the beauty of fair skin and light hair was also known to fade early.
“Did those come from Walmart too?” Violet asked, pointing at my feet.
I couldn’t quite place her tone or mood. She wasn’t confrontational, and yet unease rippled the nape of my neck. The Violet seated on my bed was a far cry from the whimpering, confused Violet I’d browbeaten so many times. “You sure are chatty this evening.”
“We haven’t talked much lately. I’ve been either busy working or out with Libby.”
Libby. That weirdo still held a grudge against me for stealing her boyfriend. I’d told Violet to stay away from her, and she’d completely ignored me. That grated.
“I wouldn’t trust that woman.”
Violet surprised me. “Actually, you were right about Libby. Not good friend material at all.”
“What happened?”
Violet shrugged. “She wasn’t the person I thought she was.”
“That’s clear as mud.”
I picked up my fancy purse and dropped in a tube of lipstick, powder, and my cell phone. Checking my reflection again, I cocked my head and studied my outfit. Could use a little more bling. I pulled out the second drawer of the jewelry box, which held all my bracelets.
Gleaming pearl necklaces nestled inside. Must have opened the wrong drawer . . . but no, this was the second drawer, right where I housed my bracelets. I jerked open all five drawers and stared, befuddled. Gold now mixed with silver, and the gems were no longer sorted by color. What the hell?
“Someone’s been messing with my jewelry.”
“Why would anyone do that?”
Again, that tone in Violet’s voice. I faced her. “You must have done this.”
Impossibly deep-blue-purple eyes widened. “Me? Why would I do that?”
“Certainly wasn’t Dad. He knows better than to come in here.”
“I remember when this used to be Mom and Dad’s room.” Violet recrossed her legs, left over right this time, and nonchalantly swung the top leg up and down. “Maybe he got confused and wandered in.”
“That doesn’t explain my stuff being rearranged.”
“Anything missing?”
“Not that I can tell.”
“No harm, no foul, then.” Violet rose and stood beside me, gazing at my jewelry box. She gave a low whistle. “This is quite the collection. Must have set you back a fortune.”
“Most of it’s costume,” I lied. Hastily, I closed all the drawers. Various lovers had gifted me expensive pieces over the years, but most I’d purchased myself. And why not? I deserved a few nice things in life.
Violet strode over to the opened walk-in closet. “And look at all these clothes . . .”
“Help yourself to a few things if you’d like,” I offered quickly.
“That’s so generous of you.”
Okay, that was definitely a snarky remark.
“You must spend all of your paycheck on this stuff,” Violet noted. “And yet I never see you working.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped.
She faced me with that fake-innocent demeanor. “Nothing. Just wish I could find a job like yours. Instead, I work my ass off at Whispering Oaks for minimum wage.”
“You’re jealous.”
“A little,” she admitted. That pleased me.
“If the stress is too much, you can always return to the mental hospital,” I hopefully suggested once again. “Confess everything and go back for treatment.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Was that place so bad? I’m sure it’s better than prison. Confess, and they might go easier on you, agree to let you return for more treatment.”
“But I didn’t do it.”
Despite the bravado, I caught the flicker of doubt in her eyes before she dropped her gaze. Thought she could beat me at my own game? She was a fucking neophyte.
“Yes,” I said gently. “You did.”
I thought of my hidden treasures behind the portrait, a photo that captured me winning the beauty queen title. My eyes involuntarily darted there.
“So you say.”
I sucked in my breath at her outright defiance. “How dare you accuse me of lying!”
“Right. You never do any wrong, do you? The golden child prized by Dad.” She paused by my treasured photo mounted on the wall and ran a finger along the frame.
If she took it down, or if it fell . . . I rushed over and clasped the frame. “I can’t stand a crooked frame on the wall; you know that.”
Violet gave me a wide berth as she walked by. At the door, she paused. “By the way, I forgot to mention it last night, but your cell phone rang while you were in the shower. I answered it for you. Hope that’s okay.”
“Who was it?”
A mysterious smile lifted the corners of her lips. “Your fiancé called.”
She swept out of the room, leaving me alone with my spinning thoughts. My fiancé had called? Why had she lied?
Violet must have discovered my little fib. Best to let the fiancé scam die so she couldn’t throw it in my face again. I rushed to the door and spotted her at the bottom of the stairs.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but Sawyer and I recently broke up,” I explained coldly. “I didn’t say anything, hoping our fight would blow over. It hasn’t. If he calls again, just hang up.”
Without waiting for her reaction, I slipped back inside and locked my door. Whatever Violet was up to, I didn’t like it, and I needed to regroup. It felt like my sister had thrown down a gauntlet of some sort. I’d been lax lately, confident that she’d come round to do as I said. Bet anything that Libby was somehow behind Violet’s new attitude.
I found the key to my jewelry box and locked it. Violet wouldn’t get her hands on my gems anymore. Again, my eyes strayed to the framed photo. Time to up my game again. I lifted my smiling, victorious photo from the wall, opened the built-in safe, and gathered my lethal treasure. Carefully, I unwrapped the yellowed paper covering it.
Worthless or not, the filched trinket always excited me, reconnecting me to the moment I had made it mine. Reluctantly, I put it back into safekeeping and hurried out to my car. I was running a little behind schedule, but it never hurt to be fashionably late.
By the time I arrived, the Miss Normal Peach Queen Beauty Pageant dinner was well underway inside the festively decorated Veterans of Foreign Wars building. Peach-colored balloons and crepe paper hung from the ceiling. Metal-and-laminate tables were pushed together to form a twenty-foot-long row, which was covered with white tablecloths. Peach napkins were set beside each plate, and white vases filled with peach roses dotted the row in six-foot increments.
As one of the former beauty queen winners, I sat near the head of the table, presiding like royalty in my silver tiara that glittered with bits of peach citrine crystals. Normally, the tiaras were passed down from winner
to winner every year, but I’d been determined not to relinquish my crown to another woman. Keeping the tiara had meant sleeping with Buddy Jenkins, the 2004 pageant director, but it had been totally worth the effort. The other former pageant winners kept shooting dagger glares at my crown during dinner, much to my secret amusement. Every year, it was the same old jealousy and sour peaches, which I found invigorating. It meant I was still attractive and powerful. A force to be reckoned with.
Tonight’s dinner featured chicken with peach sauce, chargrilled peaches mixed with green beans, and a peaches-and-red-potato stir-fry—all entrées designed to showcase the versatility of our Alabama peach crop. Thankfully, the peach-cobbler dessert was familiar. Didn’t have to stretch so far there to tout the fruit’s sugary appeal.
I brushed back carefully lacquered tendrils of blonde locks, drawing attention to my perfect spiral curls shellacked with hair spray. What I lacked in my sister’s natural beauty I artfully compensated for with careful attention to my hairstyle, makeup, and wardrobe. My half-up, half-down coiffure felt more like twisted straw than spun silk, but it was damn beautiful, and that was all that really mattered. My hand casually drifted down my neck and cleavage, long red fingernails tapping against my gold-and-diamond necklace and showing off my one-carat diamond ring accented with emeralds.
My engagement ring.
I’d described Sawyer in such glowing terms tonight that I’d started to believe in him myself. Now, I got excited as I described the upcoming nuptials at our destination wedding in Aruba.
“Aruba?” Sue O’Neill, seated to my right at the long dining table, grimaced. “You don’t want to go there. It’s too dangerous. Besides, after what happened to Natalee Holloway, I think all Alabamians should boycott that place.”
Smug cow. She may have been Miss Normal a full five years after my 2004 crown, but she looked at least ten years older than me. Her coral cocktail dress was a shade too gaudy, and she was a good thirty pounds too heavy for the curve-clinging, cheap-nylon confection.
Cold Waters (Normal, Alabama Book 1) Page 21
