Tin God

by Stacy Green

  “I wasn’t expecting company,” he said as he unlocked the door.

  “I’m sure it’s fine.”

  Bachelor pad was the cliché that jumped to Jaymee’s mind. The apartment was clean but generic. Hardwood floors ran throughout the open space, and the only seating was a brown leather recliner and a tan couch. A desk was set up near the window and next to it, a large bookcase stuffed with books. The kitchen was small but efficient, with bar stools that matched the countertop and stainless steel appliances. Nothing fancy, and the place still looked like a palace to Jaymee, albeit a cold palace.

  Nick dumped his keys onto the kitchen counter. Jaymee closed the door and stood awkwardly in the entryway, unsure of where to go. Should she sit? Was the recliner Nick’s special spot? She scanned the room in search of the answer, and her gaze landed on the small built-in shelves near the door.

  Other than the work area, the shelves were the only part of the apartment he’d personalized, and they were filled with pictures of him and Lana. Engagement pictures, wedding pictures, shots taken at a park and somewhere snowy. Colorado. She remembered they’d gone to Colorado on their honeymoon.

  “These are dusty.” Jaymee ran her finger along the crystal frame containing a wedding photo. She refused to let her eyes water.

  “Yeah. I try not to look at them.”

  “Why?”

  “Hurts.”

  She kept her retort to herself. Didn’t he realize his entire life was about the past, just like hers? What else were they doing here?

  Nick turned down the central air conditioning and checked his watch. “We should get started, especially if we have any hope of making it back tonight.”

  An open staircase led to the loft. Instead of a bed, the area was covered with plastic storage bins and an oak chest she recognized as Lana’s. “She bought that on sale,” Jaymee remembered. “She was so proud of it.”

  “It’s full of clothes.” Nick’s gruff voice echoed through the loft. “The stuff we’re looking for will be in the bins.”

  He grabbed the plastic box nearest to him and popped off the lid. Jaymee chose a bin and did the same. “What exactly are we looking for?”

  “Files. Work files will be obvious. Case numbers, names. They should be together.”

  “Did you get these from her office?”

  “No. These are her personal copies. She made duplicates of everything she was allowed to copy.”

  “But Sarah’s adoption wasn’t legal. There’s not going to be a file for that.”

  “Sure there will be. Lana was working on it in secret, so she might have your case labeled in some sort of code. Make sure you look inside every folder, not just at the label.”

  Jaymee leafed through the mass of files and papers in her bin. “These look like they’re from school.” She held up a stapled printout. “‘An Essay on Reform in Juvenile Sentencing’ by Lana Foster.”

  “Go through them anyway.” Nick’s reply was terse.

  Jaymee grunted and obeyed. She didn’t feel like arguing with him, but she had to wonder if he was this cranky when he and Lana met or if his bad attitude was a result of the last four years.

  The next two hours were spent slogging through various term papers, notes, case files, and the occasional poem Lana had written. Jaymee tried to keep her mind on what they were looking for, but she couldn’t help skimming through Lana’s writing. Her friend’s voice had been silent for so long, and suddenly, she spoke again, through her words.

  Jaymee peeked at Nick. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the loft’s singular window, highlighting the dust particles and the strands of early gray in his hair. His face puckered in concentration, deep creases between his furrowed eyebrows. Every so often, he would lick his index finger to help flip through the pages. His eyes moved quickly–all business–but Jaymee saw him pause more than once to read. She always knew when Nick had run across Lana’s personal writings. He exhaled a deep, shuddering sigh, expressing his and Jaymee’s shared pain.

  “It’s not here.” Nick shoved the last bin aside. “Did you find anything related to you or Sarah?”

  “Nothing. Just some letters I’d written to Lana when she was away at school.” Jaymee’s voice wavered. She couldn’t believe Lana had kept them.

  “What about Wilcher or your dad?”

  “Nope.”

  Nick raked his hands through his hair and then clasped them behind his head. “All right, let’s think.”

  “Would she have kept them at work?”

  “I doubt it. She never kept personal stuff there. Her superiors had a right to access her files whenever they wanted. She could have gotten in trouble for working on a non-county related case.”

  “Did she have a safety deposit box?”

  “No.” Nick pushed himself off the floor. “We’re going to have to move on to plan B.”

  “What’s that?” Jaymee stood, too. Her stomach rumbled. Nick cracked a smile for the first time since they’d left Roselea that morning.

  “The courthouse. But first, something to eat.”

  * * *

  Nick had been a short-tempered ass all day. He hadn’t slept much the night before, the anticipation of their plans keeping his brain churning. Not to mention Jaymee. He kept thinking about her, seventeen and pregnant, shunned by her cruel father and used by a man she’d trusted. Holden Wilcher was an even bigger pig than Nick had imagined. Had he planned on seducing Jaymee, grooming her until she was old enough, or had the little girl he cared for suddenly become a woman he couldn’t resist?

  Either scenario was deplorable.

  Not that Nick couldn’t see the attraction. Jaymee was fire and ice, stubborn strength wrapped in southern demureness. Unlike Lana, who always tried to keep the peace, Jaymee had a quick wit and sharp tongue. Her life had made her edges hard, but inside she was gentle, caring, loyal.

  Last night, as they’d stared at one another outside of her home, trapped in the heat of the night and the moment, Jaymee’s touch had ignited a spark inside him he’d believed had been extinguished at Lana’s death. His blood rushed through his veins making his head throb. Driving back to Annabelle’s, his body had hummed as though he’d been touched with a high-voltage wire.

  All night, visions of Jaymee dominated his thoughts. The graceful slope of her neck, her full lips, sweet voice, the feel of her skin…

  What a jerk. Investigating his wife’s murder and panting over the girl she’d once babysat.

  Hormones. Not his fault.

  And yet he’d been tongue-tied when he’d picked Jaymee up this morning, unable to think clearly. Her hair was still damp, and she smelled like vanilla. And something else. Spring. Flowers. Hell if he knew. She smelled damned good.

  He should have been polite, asked her about her life, got to know her like a normal human being. Instead he fought dirty thoughts and kept his mouth shut. The drive did him good, however. By the time they reached his apartment, Nick’s head was on straight and thoughts of Jaymee were strictly business.

  Still, she’d put up with his moodiness. Least he could do was take the poor girl to lunch.

  It was closing in on two p.m., so finding a place to park was relatively easy. The Copper Iris had good food and a laid-back atmosphere, and he figured she would appreciate eating at some place nicer than Sallie’s.

  He ordered his favorite Cuban sandwich. Jaymee studied the menu, chewing her lip, and no doubt calculating every penny in her pocket.

  “I’m buying.” He waved off her ensuing argument with the explanation, “I dragged you here, I can feed you. Pick something.”

  She ordered a burger and fries, complete with a frustrated glare for him. “I can pay for it.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m a southern gentleman. Rules dictate I pay.”

  Jaymee looked less than enthused, but she relented. She glanced around the restaurant, rubbing her fingers together. She pinched her lips and then swatted a lock of hair off her face.

  “Nervous?”
Nick asked.

  She brought her arms to her lap. “No. Why would I be nervous?”

  “Situation’s kind of awkward. I’m not sure what to talk to you about.”

  “I don’t have much to say.”

  “Sure you do.” Nick took a long drink of his tea. “Your life is one big mystery.”

  “Not anymore. You know my secrets.”

  Nick wanted to ask more about Holden and her father. He’d never met a southern man who wouldn’t shoot the bastard trying to diddle his daughter, especially if that man were a friend of the family.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “Your shitty father. Just wondering what he would have done if he’d known the truth.”

  “Paul treated me like an obligation. Worse than that, even. Holden was his God. Still is. He wouldn’t have believed me. And if I’d said anything, Holden–” she stopped and shook her head. “At the time, I had no choice but to keep silent.”

  “What do you think would have happened if you’d refused to give Sarah up?”

  “Paul would have found a way to force me.”

  “That’s illegal.”

  “So’s hitting his wife.” Jaymee’s expression was a mask of hate. “Never stopped him.”

  Nick felt sick inside. His family had its problems, but they loved each other. His father would have sooner cut off his own hand than strike Nick’s mother or his children.

  “What about your brother?”

  “Darren?” Jaymee’s face softened. “He was always better at toeing the line than me. Paul wasn’t so hard on him–even when Darren stood up for me. Guess because he was a boy.”

  “What about now? After all that’s happened?”

  “Darren’s stuck in the middle,” Jaymee said. “When I got pregnant, he was in college and busy with his own life. But he’s tried to be supportive. Please don’t say anything to him. He’s the only family member I still talk to. I don’t want him to know what we’re doing until he absolutely has to.”

  “I promise.”

  The waitress appeared with their food. Jaymee dug into her burger. She didn’t look at Nick for several long minutes, and he didn’t know what to say.

  “You grew up in Jackson?” Her words were forced, quick, and slightly sharp.

  Nick didn’t care. Anything to break the uncomfortable silence. “Nah. Canton.”

  “So you know what it’s like growing up in a small town.”

  “Unfortunately,” Nick said. “I couldn’t wait to get out of there, though. My older brothers stayed at home, worked in the family garage. Not me.”

  “You had to get out and prove yourself.” She finally looked up. “That’s why you worked so hard all the time.”

  Instead of being with Lana. She didn’t have to say the words. The expression on her face said enough.

  “You got a scholarship to Ole Miss?” Jaymee asked.

  “Only way I was going to school.”

  Jaymee dipped a French fry into her ranch dressing. “I wanted to be a vet when I was little.”

  “Still could.”

  “Right. I’ll be lucky if I ever do anything besides wait tables.”

  “With that attitude you won’t.” After all, he’d worked his way through school. If he could do it, anyone could. Even Jaymee. Especially Jaymee.

  The rubber mask returned. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m just saying you can’t get anywhere if you don’t believe in yourself.”

  “You also can’t waste your time chasing a dream that won’t happen when there’s bills to pay.” Her words were measured, her tone layered with warning.

  “I know what it’s like to struggle.”

  “Right. I can tell that by your fancy apartment and nice car. Looks like you haven’t been broke for a while. Guess burying your nose in work paid off for you.” She pushed her mostly-empty plate aside and stared out the window. Her chin quivered. “I’m full. Thank you for the meal.”

  Nick sighed. He didn’t want to fight. “You’re right, it has been a while. Reporters don’t make big bucks, but I can afford air conditioning.”

  She continued to stare out the window. Her eyes flickered from side to side watching the passersby. The muscle in her jaw flexed.

  Nick finished his sandwich. Might as well have been eating dirt. His mouth was dry and his brain flustered. Jaymee didn’t see herself clearly at all. She thought of herself as a backwoods nobody, a loser kid with a score to settle. But there was much more to her than her bitterness.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you, Jaymee. I know life’s been shitty to you, but if there’s something you want to do, don’t give up. It might take years, but you’ll find a way.”

  She blinked fast and cleared her throat. “Thanks, but right now, all I want is to find my daughter and make things right. I can’t think about a future beyond that. Not yet.”

  “Fair enough.” Nick waved the waitress over and asked for the check. Jaymee watched the woman leave and then pounced, the fire back in her words.

  “How are you going to get into the courthouse records?” She asked. “Lana said those were sealed by Mississippi law. Only way she found out was through work connections.”

  “You think she was the only one with connections?” Nick said. “I’ve got people all over the city I could call, but I won’t need to.”

  “Why not?”

  Nick left the money on the table and rose to leave. He motioned for Jaymee to go first. She brushed his arm as she moved past, her silky hair covering her face. Without thinking, he laid his hand on the small of her back to guide her out of the restaurant. She craned her neck, heated questions in her eyes. Pressed together, her pouty lips were ruby-red against her delicate skin. The sliver of attraction Nick had been fighting to ignore embedded itself further into his brain. He swallowed hard.

  “Why not?” She asked again. Her usually smooth voice was husky.

  Confusion reigned over him. Half his blood flow had left his brain. Nick shook his head. “Uh.”

  “Why don’t you need to call these people you have?”

  “Oh. Oh!” Nick shook his head. “Right. Let’s go outside.” The blistering sun barely cleared his thoughts. He started the car and blasted the air conditioning. The semi-coolness cleared the last of the cobwebs.

  “Jackson may be a big city,” Nick said. “But we’re still in the friendly south. The clerks at the courthouse are busy, and I happen to know where the adoption cases are kept. Any lawyer will tell you all you’ve got to do is walk in and ask. If the clerks know the lawyer, they’ll let him look.”

  “You’re not a lawyer.”

  Nick ignored the sharp dagger of guilt. “Remember the woman Lana had lunch with the day she was murdered? The one who remembered her being upset when Wilcher and your dad showed up?”

  “Kara somebody?”

  “Kara Butler–Lana’s friend.”

  15

  The Hinds County Courthouse, located on East Pascagoula Street, was a hulking grey structure. The county seat since 1930, it took its design inspiration from the Greek temples. Standing guard in front of the building were weathered statues of Moses and Socrates–a brazen representation of Mississippi’s government.

  “You’re sure you can trust her?” Jaymee shaded her eyes to stare up at the courthouse.

  At this point, he wasn’t sure he could trust anyone. But Kara was his best hope, and he knew she wanted to see Lana’s murder solved, too. “We don’t have much choice.”

  “She’s just going to let you waltz into the records room while everyone watches?”

  “Not exactly.” Nick drove around the courthouse and parked in a small adjacent lot. A bold sign noted it was reserved for customers of the tiny sandwich shop county employees frequented. “She’s meeting me at the service entrance. We’ll go from there.”

  Jaymee made no attempt to hide her skepticism. “You’re starting to remind me of MacGyver. Or Indiana Jones.”

  “I like Indiana Jones bet
ter. He had the whip.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’d probably do more than scar your chin. You’d strangle yourself.”

  “Thanks for the confidence.”

  She stopped smiling. “Listen, be careful. You don’t know who’s on Wilcher’s payroll. If he or my father killed Lana and Rebecca to cover this up, they’d have no problem taking care of you. Snooping through these records might put you on their radar.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” Nick kept his tone light. “I’ll be around to drive you home.”

  “Two people I care about have been killed over this–over me. If something happens to you…” She closed her eyes. Her fingers drummed a rapid staccato on the door.

  A nervous sensation unfurled in Nick–one he couldn’t describe but knew he missed. He laid his hand on Jaymee’s left arm and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. She opened her eyes, focusing on his touch. He didn’t move. He didn’t want to.

  “I’m going to be fine. We’re going to get to the truth. Justice is going to be served. And Sarah will come home to you.”

  “That’s too much to hope for.”

  “Everything good in life starts out that way.”

  “I don’t remember the last time I felt real hope,” Jaymee whispered. “Even before Rebecca was killed, deep down I didn’t think I had a prayer. I figured as soon as an attorney heard who he’d be up against, he’d turn and run. Wilcher’s got too many powerful allies. I’m just a poor girl he used to know.”

  “You’re more than that. Maybe one day you’ll realize it.”

  The air-conditioned car suddenly blazed. Nick felt clammy–unsteady. Jaymee said nothing, staring across the small space at him with burning eyes. He had to get out before he did something stupid.

  Nick opened the door and swallowed steaming summer air. His eyes watered. “Get in the driver’s seat. Someone bothers you, drive around the block until you see me waiting. Don’t stop for anyone else. Got it?”

  She nodded. “Be careful.”

  He slammed the door and walked the half block to the courthouse’s back entrance. His racing heart had nothing to do with the hot June temperature. None of this was right. He shouldn’t be having these feelings for Jaymee. Lana’s friend. And Cage was in love with the girl.