Cold Waters (Normal, Alabama Book 1)

by Debbie Herbert

  I flashed Sue my sweetest smile. “And where was your wedding and honeymoon, hon?”

  “We got married right here in town and honeymooned at Gulf Shores.” Her chin jutted out, and she patted the arm of the man beside her, a balding paunch of a guy that I remembered had played high school football. No prize there.

  “That sounds absolutely adorable.” My tone said the opposite, as I’d intended, and the other former queens around us snickered, even though I suspected they despised me as much as Sue did. Teach them to ever cross me like she’d dared.

  “Where’d you get your dress?” asked Tiffany, last year’s queen, eyeing my designer dress with envy.

  “The Velvet Pumpkin. It’s a little boutique in Birmingham.”

  I twiddled with the green silk ribbon of my shoulder strap. While everyone else was dressed in various peachy shades, I’d selected a rich emerald green that was a beautiful contrast to the other gowns.

  Mary Ellen Smithers, this year’s pageant director, stood and clinked her iced-tea glass with a silver spoon. Conversation dwindled to a twitter and then to silence.

  “While we enjoy our desserts baked with Crenshaw County–grown peaches, the best in the country, our former queens will each stand for a moment and say a few words.”

  I sipped my iced tea, relishing the moment, almost here, to bask in everyone’s attention. This year, I’d decided to make a public pitch to judge next year’s contest. The five older women who had served as judges for the last twenty years needed to retire. If they had their way, the swimsuit contest would keep mandating one-piece outfits, and contestants with lame talents like baton twirling or reciting poetry would continue to win. I’d spoken to Mary Ellen a couple of times about my desire to judge, and she’d acted snooty about the whole damn thing. Well, that old witch didn’t know it yet, but nobody held me down for long. I’d flirt my way onto the judges’ panel if need be.

  A couple of the former queens rose for a moment and made insipid remarks about the importance of the peach industry in our local economy. Mary Ellen looked my way and dipped her head in a regal nod. My turn.

  Slowly, I set down my drink and scooted my metal folding chair back. Buddy Jenkins caught my eye and winked, taking a long swallow of his peach tea, which was no doubt spiked. I rose, conscious of the pretty picture I made—my tiara nestled in blonde curls and the green shimmer of my gown among the cheap orange getups of the other queens. I opened my mouth, but before I could speak I noticed dozens of heads had turned to the front door. A late arrival stealing my thunder?

  A scruffy-looking young man with a red beard and longish, unkempt hair approached. He wore jeans and a faded AWOLNATION T-shirt. Hardly appropriate attire for the event. But what really threw me were his gray eyes, which relentlessly locked on me.

  He didn’t look to the right or left, just barreled forward with a determined gleam in his eyes and a slight smirk on his lips. An old lover? No, he didn’t look even vaguely familiar. A disgruntled creditor? No, surely not. What was his game?

  “Delaney?” he said loudly, sidling close to where I stood. He placed a hand on the small of my back, and I stood rigid with surprise.

  “You look shocked to see me. Told you I’d do my best to make it.” He waved at the crowd that avidly stared at us. “I’m Sawyer Harris. Delaney’s fiancé.”

  I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Who the hell was this guy? Why was he doing this?

  Someone fetched another folding chair, and he wedged a seat in between me and Sue.

  “Go on, honey,” he urged, slouching back in the chair with a big grin. “Make your speech. I’m all ears.”

  I jerked my gaze from the secret amusement dancing on his face, and my eyes swept the length of the table. “It’s an honor to be here,” I mumbled, quickly sinking into my seat.

  “That’s it?” Mystery man guffawed loudly. “I done come all the way from Mobile for one sentence? Stand back up and give them a speech deserving of a Peach Queen.”

  I rose unsteadily on my high-heeled feet, afraid to disobey. For once, I longed not to be the center of attention. My face, neck, and chest flushed with heat, and I licked my dry lips. Mary Ellen’s face was scrunched in displeasure, but everyone else, particularly Sue, grinned with smug glee.

  “I thought you were from Birmingham,” Sue said, glancing back and forth between me and the imposter.

  “As I said earlier,” I rushed in, eager to stop the train wreck of a conversation, “being crowned as the Miss Normal Peach Queen was such an honor. It’s a grand tradition of recognizing women right here in Normal, and I wish all of the new contestants much success.”

  Could that speech have been any more trite or insipid? But I couldn’t think. Not now. Not while my mind and heart raced. I sat down abruptly.

  My tormenter stood, clapping loudly and issuing a shrill whistle that for all the world sounded like a hog call. Amused titters arose, and it was all I could do not to bury my face in my hands. What an uncultivated asshole. Somebody was going to pay for this.

  Violet? She had to be behind the imposter’s appearance. I wasn’t particularly well liked in town. Okay, several women flat out despised me for messing with their men, but Violet was the one who had practically declared war against me. Little sister was fighting back.

  If this was how she wanted to play it, fine. She may have won this battle, but I would crush her in the end.

  Finally, he sat down. My momentary relief was short lived when he draped an arm around my shoulders.

  “You’re an architect?” Tiffany asked, skepticism lacing her voice.

  “Well, now, Delaney might have exaggerated a teensy bit there. I’m actually an architect’s assistant. The gofer guy who fetches coffee and runs errands. Pay isn’t all that great, but it beats the hell out of flipping burgers.”

  “You’re the one being modest, Sawyer.” I fought to keep my desperation buried as I faced down the sharks. “He’s finishing up his master’s degree in architecture next summer at the University of Alabama.”

  I leaned into him, whispering, “Whoever set this up, I’ll pay you double.”

  “Deal,” he whispered, picking up my glass of iced tea and waving it high in the air. “Roll tide,” he said to our audience.

  Half the people at the table muttered, “Roll tide” and sipped their drinks, while the other half mumbled, “War eagle.” The usual friendly—and sometimes not-so-friendly—banter ensued between fans of the two state schools, and I began to breathe a little easier. I’d ride out this shit storm of a dinner and emerge unscathed. The man claiming to be my fiancé wasn’t the prize I’d made him out to be, but he hadn’t exposed me as a liar either. A few weeks, and I’d start spreading a story about breaking up with him. All was well.

  No more taking chances. Violet obviously wasn’t going to confess, so it was up to me to have her put away. She’d had her chance to take the route of claiming insanity, but no, she preferred playing hardball. I’d speak to Detective Kimbrel directly and provide him irrefutable evidence that Violet had murdered Ainsley Dalfred. He’d be praised for solving the city’s oldest and most violent murder case, and I’d continue on as the sole heir of what remained of my parents’ estate.

  As the remaining queens gave their brief speeches, I sipped my iced tea. What I wouldn’t do for a generous shot of vodka in it. I glanced over at Buddy, who smiled lecherously. I’d have to make my way over to him once I got rid of my pretend fiancé. I leaned into the stranger beside me, resting my head on his shoulder. “How much do I owe you?”

  “One thousand bucks.”

  I didn’t even bat an eye. “I’ll write you a check.”

  Chapter 32

  DELANEY

  July 2, 2007

  At the unmistakable squeak of the french doors opening, my fingers clutched the bedsheets in a death grip of fury. Violet was sneaking off without me again. Ainsley used to be both our friends, but something had changed this summer. They acted secretive, they ran off and did t
hings on their own, and they whispered and giggled together and stopped talking when I got near.

  Violet would pay for running off without me again. I sat up in bed, debating the best way to punish her. I could wake up Mom and Dad, saying I’d heard a noise and was afraid. They’d investigate and discover Violet was missing.

  Or I could follow them, see what they were up to. It wasn’t fair the way those two had cut me out. Hurt unfurled in my chest, hot and burning. No one wanted to hang out with me—well, no girls, anyway. Violet and Ainsley were younger than me, but at least they were fun at times. Tonight, they’d be down by the river, swimming and up to who knew what while I was here and all alone.

  Quietly, I slipped on a pair of shorts and shoes and padded downstairs to let myself out the back door. I didn’t know why Violet took chances leaping from her balcony to the pecan tree to sneak out when all you had to do was walk out the back door. Dad wouldn’t be waking up until long after the rooster crowed, and Mom was too self-absorbed to notice what went on.

  I waited until Violet vanished into the woods before I ventured out. She never looked back. I crept into the night’s shadows as best I could. No need to keep her in my sight. I knew where she was going, after all. No surprise there. All I wanted was to hide in the bushes and listen to what they said. Something was amiss between the two. Once I knew their secret, they’d have to include me again—or else.

  High-pitched laughter and splashes danced in the breeze, filtering down to my crouched position behind a large saw palmetto. Sweat trickled down my face, and the thin nylon of my pajama top stuck to my skin. Mosquitoes buzzed near my ears. I thought longingly of the cool water below. Damn my pride. I wanted to have fun too. And why shouldn’t I? They didn’t own the river.

  I rose in time to see Ainsley pull off her shirt. Violet followed suit. Swiftly, I dropped down on all fours. Had they seen me? I didn’t dare move.

  More shrieks and giggles. I remained hidden. Skinny-dipping was a new twist. Before, we’d always just brought our bathing suits along and changed into them. But nudity wasn’t that big a deal. Just because I put out for guys, though, didn’t mean Violet was the same. Far as I knew, she’d never had a boyfriend. But you could tell at a glance that Ainsley was on the hunt for sex. Took one to know one.

  It had gotten awful quiet.

  I rose on my haunches, venturing a quick peek to see what they were up to.

  They stood in the middle of the flowing river, their arms wrapped around one another, naked bodies and mouths pressing. I gasped and fell backward, underbrush crackling beneath me. Had they heard? It sounded loud as a firecracker explosion from my end. I flattened onto my stomach and peered beneath the fronds.

  They stood apart, blankly scanning the dark night.

  I considered popping up like a jack-in-the-box and screaming, Surprise, but frankly, my little sister had at last managed to shock me. And that took some doing. Besides, I needed to process this salacious discovery and consider the best way to work my knowledge of their secret to its best advantage.

  Their playful banter resumed. The little traitors had decided no danger lurked here in the shadows. Maybe I should come back another night with my cell phone and shoot some video.

  A faint rustling sounded to my right, and this time it was me searching the darkness. It had to be a deer or another largish animal. Who else would be out here this time of night?

  Their laughing voices grew closer. They were coming this way to swing from the rope and dive into the water. Quickly, I darted farther into the woods, where the trees stood closer together. Soon as they’d both jumped back in the river, I’d make a run to the house to get my cell phone.

  They started up the cliff, their voices louder with every step they climbed. It took me a minute to recognize the angry edge in their tone, and I still couldn’t make out the exact words. Clearly, they were in the throes of a lovers’ spat. I clasped my hands over my mouth to suppress a giggle. Catfight!

  At the top of the cliff, they went at it. Screams and slaps rumbled through the humid darkness. I settled in to enjoy the spectacle.

  Chapter 33

  HYACINTH

  July 2, 2007

  “Hyacinth? Where are you?”

  My knees jellied, and I clung to the pine’s scratchy bark to keep from falling.

  “Here!”

  I left the protection of tree cover and squinted as the flashlight’s beam pierced my eyes. The light shifted, lowering to the ground, shining on black uniform boots. Size 14. Strange, the tidbits of facts I remembered about my old lover. The freckles on the backs of his hands, his favorite old movie, the way his chest vibrated when he laughed. A sudden image: We are lying in bed naked, relaxing and teasing each other in that silly way we do after making love. He laughs at something on a vapid TV sitcom. My hand is lying on his chest in a mound of dark, curly hair. His muscles spasm beneath my palm, and I smile. At one with my love in one of those tender afterglow moments that bind couples.

  Had Parker and I ever been that close—that happy? If so, it was hard to remember past the years of hurt and disappointment.

  Boone reached my side. After more than a decade, he was close enough that I could touch him, smell him, be absorbed in the heated energy that crackled between us as I stared into his kind eyes. Alone, out here in the woods, we didn’t have to hide our feelings. Instantly, I saw that he still loved me. And I must have been the worst mother in the world, because when he wrapped his arms around me, I sank into his strength, into his familiar smell and touch, and for all of two seconds, I was comforted, overwhelmed with love.

  Strong fingers encircled my arms near the elbows, steadying me. Boone pulled away.

  “Whatever’s happened here tonight, we’ll work it out,” he assured me. “I’ll find our daughter.”

  Our daughter.

  In spite of everything, of all the anger and lies and years of going it alone, I was proud to have had a child with this man.

  “Yes.” I swiped a hand across my eyes.

  “Where’s the body you mentioned on the phone?”

  “This way.”

  With one of his arms wrapped around my shoulders, I found the courage to backtrack through the woods and face the gruesome sight. I filled him in on everything I knew. Delaney’s insinuations, the found clothing and sandals, my own suspicions of what might have happened based on Violet’s recent rebellious behavior. The ugly suspicions crept out, surprising even me. But I couldn’t afford to ignore my intuition. Violet’s future hung in the balance, and I needed to discover the truth if we were going to be able to help her in the critical days ahead.

  “You didn’t really consider that someone other than Violet killed Ainsley?” he asked, all the time scanning the darkness, searching for Violet.

  “Like who?”

  “Could be anyone. Like maybe they came out here to meet some boys. Kids do that. They drink, get high, and do all kinds of stupid, foolish shit. A few beers, and they shed their clothes and decide to play Tarzan. Everyone round here knows this place is dangerous. The river’s littered with sharp rocks and boulders.”

  “I didn’t see any signs of a party. No beer cans or whiskey bottles.”

  We reached the water. “It’s right through here.” I pointed and started to wade the brackish water.

  “Stay put. Every footprint could be important. We don’t want to muck up an investigation.”

  An investigation. I shivered but didn’t argue. I hugged my arms to my chest, watching his flashlight’s beam shine on the lifeless body like a macabre spotlight. Boone returned to my side moments later, rubbing his chin.

  “Where all have you searched?”

  “Only right here near the shore. Should we divide up? Go different ways?”

  “No. Stay with me. First place I want to look is by the swing.”

  I followed behind him, breathless but optimistic. Boone would know what to do. He’d find Violet. Any moment, I expected her to pop out of the shadows.
/>   But she didn’t.

  Fatigue bore down on me, and my legs felt like wooden appendages. We trudged on, silent and relentless. A hint of morning crept into the lightening sky. His cell phone buzzed, and he turned from me, muttering crisp evasions to his wife about where he was and what he was doing.

  That done, Boone stuffed it in his pocket. “Another ten minutes, and then I’ll have to call in reinforcements.”

  I was torn. I wanted Violet found at once, to hold her in my arms and run my hands through her black hair, the exact shade and texture of my own. Yet I feared what would happen if she was found by a cop. Would they arrest her or be kind? She was only fourteen, still a child.

  “Violet?” I kept calling her name, my voice cracking from wear and exhaustion.

  Boone held out his right arm, blocking my path. “I hear something,” he whispered.

  I stopped, straining my ears. At last I heard it: muffled sobs. I circled in all directions, trying to pinpoint the source.

  Boone jogged to the left, and I followed, adrenaline giving new life to my legs.

  A tall, pale form shifted into focus. Violet, clad only in a pair of torn panties, stumbling about like a zombie. I ran toward her, then stopped when I came within arm’s length.

  My daughter looked right through me, as though I were merely an obstruction in her aimless, rambling path. I didn’t know whether to shake her or gently take her hand. I took a tentative step forward. “Violet, honey, are you okay?”

  I glanced at Boone, and he nodded. Afraid of spooking her, I ever so slowly reached out my hand and touched her arm. A flicker of awareness sparked in her eyes. “Everything’s going to be all right, sweetheart. I promise you. Are you hurt?”

  Violet just blinked, but at least she recognized me and didn’t try to run off. My eyes quickly scanned her body. A few scratches on her neck and chest, but that was it.

  “Mama?”

  I pulled her to me in a fierce embrace. Her arms hung wooden at her sides. My baby took no comfort in my touch. I stepped back and swallowed hard. “What happened, honey?”