Tin God

by Stacy Green

  Jaymee pulled herself free of Royce’s hard grasp. She crossed the hardwood floor and stood next to Nick.

  “Thank you for stopping by,” Royce said. “I really appreciate it. And Mr. Samuels, I hope I was of some help for your book. Rebecca would have been so excited to speak with you.”

  “I’m sorry again. I hope they put her murderer behind bars very quickly.”

  “Thank you.” Royce motioned to Jonas, who snapped to attention like a good little puppy. “Will you show our guests out?”

  “Of course, Mr. Royce.”

  Nick laid a gentle hand on Jaymee’s back, and she didn’t like the comfort it brought her racing nerves. Too frustrated to protest, she allowed him to guide her to the door.

  “Jaymee,” Royce called out just as she reached the door.

  She sucked in an angry breath and turned to face him so quickly her cheek brushed Nick’s shoulder. He didn’t move, hand still on her back.

  “Yes?”

  “Rebecca talked often of your private quest,” he lowered his voice as if they were speaking in confidence. “But she never told me what it was. I’d like to continue helping you out. There’s still a cleaning position here if you’d like it.”

  She needed the money. But being alone in the house with Royce and Jonas…

  “I’ll get back to you.”

  “I look forward to it.” Royce’s eyes bore into hers. “Of course, if you want to keep the position, you’ll have to let me in on this quest of yours.” He offered a cagey smile in what Jaymee could only assume was an attempt at flirtation.

  She smiled back. “That’s easy. I’m trying to get the hell out of the trailer park.”

  He laughed. “Can’t blame you there. I know you and your father don’t get along, but surely Reverend Wilcher would be willing to help you. I know he’s been a close family friend for years.”

  Jaymee’s stomach muscles retracted with the force of a sledgehammer. Her breathing accelerated, and she couldn’t stop the gasp that echoed across the marble foyer. She clamped her lips shut.

  “Are you all right?” Royce’s stare was piercing. A challenge. The hint of a smile emerged then grew into a smirk.

  Her body turned to stone. Pain radiated through her jaw. She’d been clenching it. Nick’s hand felt like an anchor against her back. All three men stared at her––Nick in confusion, Royce in triumph, and Jonas in contempt.

  Sheer stubbornness willed her to speak. “I’m fine. I’ll get back to you about the job.” She turned around so fast she bumped against Nick’s chest. He caught her by the arms. She glared up at him until he let go.

  Questions were etched in the creases between his eyes. She brushed by him and yanked open the oak door. Her feet pounded against the brick steps sending shock waves up her weak legs.

  Get out. Keep quiet. Don’t answer Nick’s questions. He was close behind, and she couldn’t think straight.

  Jonas huffed down after her. “You shouldn’t be running around with Crystal Harns, Ballard girl.”

  She stopped beneath the live oak and turned. Jonas peered at her from the bottom step. “Why do you bring up Crystal?”

  “Mr. Royce’s had enough bad things said about him.”

  “What on earth do Mr. Royce and Crystal have in common?”

  His jowls quivered. “Mr. Royce is a good man. Crystal Harns is a jezebel. Her whole way of life is doomed; every step she takes brings her closer to hell. Proverbs 2:18.”

  “Let marriage be held in honor among all, and let the marriage bed be undefiled, for God will judge the sexual immoral and adulterous,” Jaymee said. “Hebrews 13:4. I can trade Bible verses with you all day, Jonas.”

  “Yes. But when was the last time you were welcomed in the church?” His chest heaved.

  “Thank you for showing us out, Jonas.” She fell into the passenger seat as soon as Nick unlocked the door. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  * * *

  Nick waited until Jaymee had her seatbelt on before peeling out of Evaline. Place gave him the creeps. Not to mention the two douchebags he’d just spoken with. Jonas was an ass-kissing idiot and not a concern. Royce was another story. His grief over his wife might be genuine, but his sharp answers and nervous body language over the adoption questions made Nick think the attorney knew more about Lana’s investigation than he was letting on. The only one Nick had gotten a truthful vibe from was Reverend Gereau. He’d seemed honestly moved by both the murders and Jaymee’s obvious hatred.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back in that house.” Jaymee’s hard words broke the silence.

  “What did Royce say to you?”

  “He was fishing. Trying to figure out if Rebecca told me what she’d discovered that had him so freaked out when he talked to Crystal.” She blew out a long, shaky breath and stared out at the sky. Dark clouds covered the sun as a threatening shade of purple decorated the southwest horizon.

  “And that bastard Penn Gereau, praying for me. He’s done quite enough.”

  “I didn’t think he seemed that bad,” Nick ventured.

  “Of course you didn’t. He’s vanilla. Wolf in sheep’s clothing. He might not be directly involved, but he knows what Wilcher did.”

  Jaymee’s face was bright red and shiny with sweat, her small hands clenched into fists and pressing so hard against her knees her skin had gone white.

  Nick turned the air on full blast. “Take a deep breath and calm down.”

  He wasn’t so sure Gereau was any more than a bystander caught in the storm, but he wasn’t about to bring that up now.

  “What did you think of Newton? And Fat Jonas?”

  “Jonas is a lackey.” Nick turned off Rosaire drive toward Jaymee’s end of town. “Newton’s another story. I don’t know if he killed his wife, but he sure as hell knew more about Lana than what he said.”

  “I agree.”

  Nick glanced at her again. She wound a lock of her wavy brown hair around her left index finger. Her movements were jerky, her eyebrows knitted in concentration.

  “You were quite the actress back there. I almost thought you didn’t want to kill Jonas.”

  “I’ve learned a lot about self-control over the years.”

  “I bet.” Nick turned left onto Ravenna Street. He hadn’t realized until now just how close the Rosaire mansions were to the poorer part of town.

  “You think Royce bought your answer about the quest?”

  An enormous thundercloud closed in on the mobile homes.

  “Hope so.”

  Strained silence filled the space. Nick ignored the nervous bubbling of his stomach and forged ahead. “So what happened back there with Newton, in the foyer?”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Come on. You nearly jumped out of your skin when Newton dropped Wilcher’s name.”

  Jaymee started and then scowled. “Didn’t you hear the tone in his voice? Felt like he was dropping the gauntlet.”

  “Maybe.” Nick stopped in front of her ugly trailer and let the car idle. “But Newton didn’t mention anything you didn’t already know. Just the sound of his name looked like it made you sick.”

  “He makes me sick.”

  She reached for the door handle. Nick pressed the locks down before she could jump out.

  “What are you doing?” She twisted to glare at him.

  “I need to know what you’re hiding. I can’t figure out who killed Lana and Rebecca–and why–without knowing the whole story.”

  “I told you everything you need to know.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Think whatever you want.” Jaymee looked up at the rapidly darkening sky. “Unlock the door, please.”

  “No. You and Lana kept this from me, and now she’s dead. I deserve to know the truth. What else do you know about Wilcher? Did Lana find out something you’re not telling me?”

  “You should have listened to her when she was alive.”

  “You
’re right. I screwed up. But I’m here now, and I’m asking you to be straight with me.”

  “I have been. All we had was the lack of Sarah’s adoption record and Debra Davies vanishing. That’s why Lana wanted you to look into Wilcher’s financials.”

  “There’s more.” Nick remembered the angry way Lana spoke of Wilcher after Jaymee had left Jackson. “She hated that man. I’d never heard her talk that way about anyone. Her hate was personal.”

  “He stole my child. She knew it.” Weakness and something like fear tainted Jaymee’s voice. A strange thudding sound resonated from her side of the car–the passenger door armrest. Jaymee’s hand shook so hard it smacked against the plastic. Her once red face was now bleak and pale, her lower lip streaked with white from the force of her teeth. A small red drop oozed out of the sensitive skin.

  “You’re bleeding.” Nick reached for her face. She blocked him with her forearm.

  “Please.” Hoarse now, as though her throat had nearly swollen shut. “Please don’t ask me any more questions. I’m begging you.”

  A hollow coldness shot up his esophagus. Lana’s voice, her words a long-forgotten memory, ricocheted through his foggy brain.

  “Wilcher is the worst kind of evil. He’s a damned predator, Nick. He needs to be held accountable.”

  “Lana said he was a predator.”

  Jaymee gasped so quickly the air whistled between her lips. “Please let me out.”

  Reality hit him with a heavy brick. The answer had been dangling in front of him all along.

  God Almighty.

  “Holden Wilcher is Sarah’s father, isn’t he?”

  * * *

  Her muscles locked into place. Her jaw throbbed from the force of her clenched teeth. And her stomach threatened to reject the cereal she’d eaten a few hours earlier.

  She tried to take a deep breath, but the air caught in her throat making her cough and splutter. The limited space between her and Nick seemed to evaporate until she could feel nothing but the heat of his body and the shock in his words.

  Finally, she forced herself to meet his stunned gaze. “Very good, Mr. Big-City Reporter. What was your first clue?”

  They stared at each other.

  “I’m sorry,” he started.

  Her watery eyes spilled over. “Please unlock the door and let me be.”

  He obeyed. She darted into the spattering rain and whirling dust, racing for the sanctity of her trailer. She heard the crunch of gravel as Nick drove away. She slammed the door and let the sobs take over.

  Now he knew. Knew how stupid she’d been, knew her darkest secret, knew her secret shame.

  She’d been desperate for the love an older man, for some kind of acceptance from someone she looked up to. Holden doted on Jaymee and her brother. Her father was dark, hateful. Holden was light and kindness. He’d given her the kind of attention Paul never had. He made her laugh, made her feel smart, made her feel worth something. She’d idolized Holden growing up, and falling into a relationship with him had been easy despite the age difference.

  The shame and guilt that were Jaymee’s constant companions reminded her she’d been a willing participant. Hell, she’d even been wanting. But he’d taken advantage of her weakness, manipulated the wounds Paul had inflicted. Simple, really. Holden’s infrequent visits from Jackson and the “outings” he’d taken Jaymee on had been the best moments of her life.

  Until she got pregnant. Then Holden talked her into giving up their baby and keeping his name out of it. And he sold the child.

  When Lana first told Jaymee her daughter’s adoption had to have been illegal, Jaymee had known the cold truth. Wilcher played her from the moment she revealed her pregnancy.

  She’d gone to see him when she was staying with Lana in Jackson and they’d realized his fraudulent act, planning on threatening him with the truth. She would stand in the middle of the rectory and threaten to tell Paul who the baby’s real father was–not just Paul, but the world. But sitting in the church pew across from a statue of Christ and next to the devil in pastoral clothing, she’d faltered. The words stuck in her throat.

  And Holden seized his chance. Jaymee’s mother was in trouble, he’d said. Paul was furious because of Jaymee’s humiliating him in the church and was taking it out on Sonia. Was it fair for her mother to pay for Jaymee’s mistakes when she already suffered so much at her husband’s hands?

  “Paul might go easier on your mother if you went back to Roselea and made nice. Showed him some respect.” Smelling of aftershave and linen, Holden sat next to her on the wooden pew. She remembered how, despite all the anger, she still felt small in his presence, still wanted him to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right.

  “But if I go back, he’ll just come after me.”

  “He’s assured me he’ll help you get on your feet. Jaymee, I fear for your mother if you don’t go home. Paul’s coming to get you tomorrow regardless, but it would be better if you went on your own accord. Don’t you think this would be best for everyone? For you to go home and put this all behind us?”

  “But the truth,” Jaymee tried. “The truth is–the truth might–one day–come out.”

  “The truth is dangerous. It might kill your mother. Think of how humiliated she would be. And the punishment your father would inflict on her. I’ve tried, but I can’t change the man. Then there’s your brother. He’s just getting started in life. Think of what the truth would do to him.”

  Darren. Of course Holden had played that card. The one member of her family who’d stood up for her–and by her–even when things got bad. He was in college when Jaymee had Sarah, thanks to the scholarship Holden had gotten him. How could Jaymee ruin his life because of her own selfishness? And her mother had already endured so much. Jaymee wouldn’t be the catalyst for more abuse.

  Desperate and hopeless, Jaymee complied. And the sonofabitch got away with it.

  In perfect cadence with her thoughts, thunder blasted from the sky, shaking the trailer with its force. Wind rushed in through the open window and knocked the bottle of generic dishwashing soap into the sink. Jaymee grabbed the cheap Glade candle before the wind could break it. She sat the candle on the table and went outside into the brewing storm. Lightening flashed just past the line of maple trees. She gripped the metal door handle and counted. The rumble of thunder came five seconds later. Mutt yelped and skittered beneath the table.

  She tried to ignore the irregular thump of her heart. Every summer, Jaymee promised herself she’d be out of this miserable, rundown trailer court by next tornado season. The shelter lay over a hundred yards away. Jaymee searched the sky. Dark clouds had gathered in the southwest: huge globs of angry blue and purple with streaks of green. No funnel cloud in sight.

  A loud honk caught her attention. Darren’s silver minivan rolled into the complex. Fresh from work, he’d untucked his button-down, blue dress shirt, and the ends fluttered in the wind. Sunglasses sat perched atop his head.

  “Hey, sis. Watching the sky?”

  “Looks like a bitch.”

  Her older brother laughed as another strike of lightening hit. “Yeah, it does. We need the rain though.”

  Jaymee sat down on her cracked steps and pretended her life wasn’t falling apart. “What brings you back out to the slums?”

  “Stop that.” Darren elbowed her. “I came to check up on you.”

  “You know I’m fine. How’s Eli feeling?”

  “Better. You need to come for dinner soon.”

  Right. Every time Jaymee came to visit, her father inevitably showed up. Jaymee figured the nosy neighbors who’d had their lips stuck to Paul’s ass for the last ten years tipped him off.

  “I’ve been working a lot.”

  Darren dug the toe of his loafer into the gaping crack of the bottom step. “Heard Dad paid you a visit. You okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “Eli said Grandpa was pretty crabby when he picked him up from school. He had to ask for
his daily chocolate ice cream cone more than once.”

  “At least Paul treats him better than he did us.”

  “Yeah.”

  Another rumble of thunder. Fast moving clouds darkened the already gray sky.

  “Royce might have killed Rebecca,” Jaymee said.

  “I heard that rumor. You think he’d do something like that?”

  “Crystal…worked with him. He told her some suspicious sounding stuff before Rebecca’s murder.”

  The wind gusted bringing with it a rush of cool air. Rain was coming. “Don’t tell Paul any of this. I’ve already been warned not to embarrass him further.”

  “Don’t worry about Dad. He can’t do anything to you.”

  Jaymee chewed back the desire to yell at her brother. Sometimes Darren seemed to have removed all memories of their father’s tyranny. Then again, he never got the brunt of it. She couldn’t hold that against him. He’d stood up for her too many times to count.

  “Running his mouth is enough.”

  “How’s what’s his name…Troy?” Darren changed the subject.

  “Gone. With my rent money.”

  “Jaymee.”

  “I know, I know. I sure can pick ‘em, can’t I?”

  “You gotta stop searching at the bottom of the barrel. Start at the top where the good ones are.”

  Sure. The nice men of the world loved damaged women. That’s why they were lining up outside her palace on wheels.

  Darren stood and pulled out his wallet. “How much do you need?”

  “No way.” Jaymee got to her feet as well. A drop of rain splattered on her forehead. “I’m not taking your money.”

  “Let me help you.”

  “I can take care of myself. I’ll pick up some extra shifts at the diner.”

  “I know you can, but I don’t want to be worrying about you. Please.”

  Jaymee shook her head.

  “Consider it an advance.”

  “On what?”

  “On a couple weeks’ worth of date nights for Mary and me.”

  “Right. Until Paul shows up.”

  “We’ll figure something out.”