He shook his head. “You’re the most stupid person who’s ever lived.” He was pleased to see the pained look on her face. He should have let her know that a long time ago. He watched her cross the room. She slipped by him, headed into the den, and toward the foyer.
He went down the hallway and entered the study, headed straight to the wet bar, and poured a shot of bourbon. He downed it and poured another. He turned, his eyes landed on the picture that covered the wall safe. Time was running out. Someone had messed with his plan. He had to get what was taken from him back, so he could go on with his plan before Suzanne found out. He’d had enough of living in the same house with that woman.
He pictured himself stretched out on a beach somewhere in the Caribbean with a beautiful, young, native woman taking care of his needs. The sand, the surf, the palm trees, and her oiled hands massaging his body were a part of his dream. At that moment, he both missed and hated Lupe, and it fueled him into action.
He gulped his drink, set the shot glass down, and headed out the door.
60
Suzanne burst through the door of the sheriff’s department. She looked around the room until she spotted the only other person in the lobby area. She marched over to the dispatcher who stood near his desk.
“Sir, I need to speak with the sheriff.”
The dispatcher looked at her a moment and then said, “He’s with a prisoner.”
“I’m right here,” Cal said as he came into the lobby from the hallway. He looked at her. “Mrs. Rayburn, how—”
“Don’t you Mrs. Rayburn me. I’m your step-mother, young man.” She fisted her hands on her hips. “Now, you go back there and release that young woman right now.”
“I can’t do that, Suzanne.”
“And why not? She’s done nothing wrong. You’re treating her like a common criminal. Why she’s—”
“I know, I know, a famous author.”
“No, that’s not what I was going to say. I was going to say that she’s a fine, young … a famous author?”
“Suzanne, run along home, and let me do my job.”
“Your job? This is not why I helped your mother campaign you into office—just so you can arrest innocent women. Why, I bet your mother doesn’t even know what you’re doing.”
“Trust me, I’m doing my job.”
Her shoulders slumped. “So you’re not going to release her?”
“Not right now. Some things have to get taken care of first, and then we’ll see.”
“What things? Does she need bail money?”
“I … I …” He sighed. “Look, would you like to check on her and see that she’s okay?”
“I can do that?”
He nodded. He motioned for her to follow him. She walked behind him out of the lobby and into the hallway.
Justin came out of the bathroom and stopped in front of Cal. “Have you seen Lansing?”
Cal shook his head. “I thought he logged out when you came on.”
“No, when I logged on, he hadn’t logged out yet. I thought he was out on patrol, but his squad car is still out front.”
Cal looked at Suzanne. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” He took a step around her and stopped when he heard a noise. He turned back. “Did you hear that?” he asked Justin.
Justin lowered his gaze and listened. They heard what sounded like a chair scoot across a tiled floor.
Cal reached into his pocket and took out a set of keys. He stepped to the door across from his office and unlocked it. Justin looked over his shoulder, and Suzanne peered around him when he swung the door open.
Suzanne’s eyes grew wide. She squeezed her eyes shut, stepped back, and leaned against the wall. Cal and Justin gaped at Deputy Lansing who was leaned back in a chair, naked, and handcuffed to a table leg. He had duct tape over his mouth and around his ankles. Cal rushed in, knelt down, and tore the tape off his mouth.
The deputy grimaced from the sting and then said, “Sir, I made a mistake. You’re gonna fire me over this. I’m sorry!”
Cal stood up. “Justin, get the tape off his legs and remove the cuffs.”
Cal looked around the room, and his gaze landed on the safe in the corner. The door was wide open and the duffle bag was gone.
“Sir, she took my weapon and my clothes,” Lansing said.
“Who?” He looked at the deputy who had taken a sheet of paper off the desk and held it over his privates.
“Mrs. Wallace. She … she seduced me.”
“How’d she get the key?”
“Sir, I swear, I did not give her the key. All I know is, she took a set from her purse and unlocked the safe.”
Cal looked off in thought and then headed out of the room. “Get him some clothes. He’s on suspension for now.” He walked by Suzanne and stopped. He looked back at her. She was still pressed against the hall wall with her eyes closed. “Suzanne? Are you all right?”
“I don’t know.”
He put his hand under her elbow. “Come on. Let’s get you back into the lobby. You can sit in there until the deputy gets dressed, and then I’ll get one of the other deputies to escort you back to the cell so you can visit with Miss Sawyer.”
“Thank you, Cal.”
As he walked her back into the lobby he asked her again, “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, I just wasn’t prepared to see that.”
“That makes two of us.”
61
The door opened at the end of the corridor and then closed. Raven heard two sets of footsteps making their way down the corridor.
“Here she is, Mrs. Rayburn,” Deputy Porter said.
Keys rattled.
Raven rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed. The dog sat up beside her and looked at the cell door. The look on Raven’s face let Suzanne know how surprised she was to see her. Suzanne smiled at her, but waited for the deputy to close the cell door and walk away.
The dog hopped down and took a few steps over to Suzanne. Suzanne reached down and patted his head.
Raven stood up. Her facial expression hadn’t changed. Suzanne walked over, stood in front of her, and held out her arms.
Raven looked at them and then at Suzanne. Her chin quivered, and she stepped into her open arms. Suzanne held her and patted her back.
Raven cried for a good five minutes. Suzanne was patient.
When Raven slipped out of her arms, she said, “I’m so embarrassed.”
“You have no reason to be embarrassed, my dear. Who wouldn’t cry from being locked up in this horrible place? It’s your right to cry.” She smiled at Raven. “A girl should never apologize for having feelings.”
“Thank you for saying that.”
“Well, I meant it. Now, are you going to invite me to sit down?”
Raven laughed. “Please, have a seat.” She indicated toward the bed with her hand.
Suzanne sat down and patted the mattress with her hand. Raven sat down beside her. Gabriel hopped up on the other side, flopped down, and rested his head on his front paws.
“We didn’t have the time to get to know each other better the other day. I’d like to take the opportunity to do that now. I may not have the chance later, as I’ve been told that you’re leaving to go back to your home soon.”
“Yes.”
“And home is where?”
“I have an apartment in New York City.”
Suzanne nodded. “I’m told that you’re an author?”
“Yes. I’ve written several novels.”
“What kind of novels?”
“I was writing women’s contemporary fiction, but I’ve switched over to suspense and mystery.”
“Why is that?”
She shrugged. “I ran out of ideas for romance. Not that that was the sole substance of my novels.”
Suzanne chuckled and then quieted. “You’re serious?”
She nodded.
“I’d think a lovely lady like you would have much to say about romance.�
��
Raven laughed. “I’m sorry, now you’re being serious.”
Suzanne studied Raven’s expression.
Raven said, “I’ve not had much romantic experience.”
“Well, you’ve got a lot to look forward to then.”
“I feel like I’m an old maid. Most women I know my age have already been married.”
“You’re still young, dear. You’ve got many years ahead of you. Don’t worry about such things. Love has a way of finding you even when you’re not looking.”
Raven looked across the small cell room at the opposite wall.
“Cal should be courting you instead of harassing you. It’s not like my step-son to treat a lady like that.”
Raven dropped her gaze to the concrete floor. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d read Shattered Lives.”
“That’s odd that you should mention that book. I drove into town today and every store that sold books were completely out of that novel. They all said they were on backorder. I volunteer at the library, but even being a volunteer, I still couldn’t latch onto a copy. The waiting list is a mile long.” She looked at Raven for a moment and then her eyes grew wide. “You’re the author?”
Raven nodded.
“Well, I’ll be. I can’t believe that I didn’t put your name to that book. I suppose because I’ve never had the honor of meeting an author before.” She patted Raven’s hand. “Your novel is very popular in this town and I’m sure all across the country.”
When Raven didn’t respond, Suzanne peered around and looked at her. “Did I say something wrong? You look pale. Are you feeling poorly?”
“Hey, Raven?” Imogene called out. “You got company over there?”
62
“I hate this place. Always have, always will,” Callie said. “It’s hotter than the dickens and stinks to high heaven in here.” She made a face from the smell of stale cigarette smoke that reeked off the interior of the house.
She looked around the room, and found a couple of decorative scented candles, and placed them on the coffee table. She went into the kitchen area, opened a kitchen drawer, and fished inside for some matches.
“Ouch!” She yanked her hand back out of the drawer. “This wasn’t the drawer I stored the knives in. Why would Virgil allow these changes after I left? Virgil didn’t like change.” She stuck her finger in her mouth and slammed the drawer shut with her other hand. She squinted in the dim room and tried to see around the kitchen of Virgil’s and Wanda’s trailer.
She removed her finger from her mouth. “I remember.” She walked over to the hallway and headed back toward the master bedroom. She stopped at the door. “Oh crap! I forgot. How could I forget? I can’t go in there.” She thought a moment. “Maybe if I hurry and stay focused.”
The setting sunlight shone through the sheer curtains that hung over the windows of the master bedroom. She darted into the room, stepped over dried bloodstains on the carpet, and hurried over to Virgil’s side of the bed. The nightstand was knocked over, and its contents were strewn all over the floor. She was careful where she put her hand on the mattress, and leaned over, and then looked around on the floor and under the bed. Cigarette butts and ashes covered the bloodstained carpet. She got down on her hands and knees and felt around under the bed. She latched onto something the size of a book of matches. She pulled it out, looked in her hand, and caught her breath. She flung the open condom package up in the air.
“Crap! Virgil never washed his hands or anything else for that matter.”
She stood, wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, and placed her hands on her hips. “I give up! I’ll just have to deal with the dark.” She marched back down the hallway and into the kitchen. She went to the kitchen sink and turned on the faucet to wash her hands. Only a trickle came out. “Who in the hell had the electricity turned off anyway?”
She growled, and with the sweep of her arm knocked everything in front of her on the counter top off onto the floor. She took two steps to swipe her arm again, but something caught her eye. A box of matches was right under her nose. She grabbed the box and turned.
“Now, what did I do with those candles?”
The thirteen by seventy foot trailer had been her pride and joy at one time. The master bedroom and bath were at one end, and Raven’s bedroom and bathroom were at the other. The kitchen, dining area, and living room were combined. The sofa sat against the wall and faced the kitchen and had for over thirty years. Most every stain on that sofa was from something Virgil had dropped while eating or drinking and watching the television.
She thought about the deputy. When he was discovered, they’d be looking for her. She had no other choice as to where she could hide out until authorities backed off on their search. She told herself, it will calm down in a few days, and then she could sneak on out of the trailer and head on down the interstate. She thought Mexico might be a big enough place to hide. A change of hair color and with all that money, she could buy a new car.
She walked into the living area and looked around the room. The curtains were new. She stepped over and had a closer look. She reached out and took hold of the edge of the fabric. “Well, now, seems Miss what’s-her-name was a little homebody.” She stuck out her bottom lip. “Virgil never bought me a sewing machine while I lived here. Not that I ever wanted one.” She let go of the fabric and stepped over to look at a painting on the wall. She leaned in close.
“What is that? A penis?” She tilted her head. “Oh, it’s a lobster. Why would anybody want a painting of a lobster?” She leaned in closer and squinted at the signature. “Wanda Neal. Ugh! That explains it.”
She turned and scanned the room. She spotted the candles on the coffee table. She walked over to sit on the sofa but thought better of it. She bent at the waist, struck a match, and lit both candles. She blew out the match and smiled. “That’s much better.” She glanced around the room and frowned. “Well, maybe not.”
She dropped the matchstick in an ashtray on the coffee table, picked up a candle, and turned. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in a large mirror that hung over the sofa. She screamed.
She stepped backwards and bumped into the coffee table. She placed her hand over her heart, rolled her eyes, and then looked at herself in the mirror again. The humidity had frizzed her natural curly hair and her mascara had run and left dark circles under her eyes.
“Nothing I can do about that now.” She went into Raven’s bedroom.
“What’s all of this?” She stepped over to what looked to her to be a desk. She viewed it from every angle and then lifted the lid. “Oh, a sewing machine. Why would someone hide a sewing machine in a desk?” She dropped the lid. “Wonder what they did with Agnes’ bed?”
She turned and left the room. “Now where am I going to sleep?” She glanced around the room and then eyed the sofa. “Oh joy!”
She heaved a sigh and headed toward the hallway. A dog barked. She stepped over to the front door, pulled back the curtains on the small window, and looked out.
A small dog and three little boys were outside in the front yard. The dog saw her through the window and began to yap. The boys looked up at the window, and screamed, and then took off running down the driveway. The dog ran after them.
“Well, now. I don’t think I look that bad.” She dropped the curtain and went down the hallway to the linen closet. She opened it and had a short glimpse of a fast moving object right before it hit her between the eyes. She landed hard on her backside. She’d managed to hold onto the candle. She shoved the object off of her and placed a hand on her forehead.
“Dammit, that hurt!” She rubbed the spot and looked at what had attacked her. An easel lay on the floor beside her with a pile of rags that smelled of linseed oil scattered around it. She pushed herself up from the floor, stepped in close, and eyed the contents of the closet. The shelf directly in front of her had a tray of oil paints, brushes, and a mouse that sat on the top of a metal container of paint th
inner. She stared into its beady eyes. She tossed the candle into the air, screamed, and stumbled backwards down the hallway. The candle hit the floor and hot wax spilled onto the carpet. She watched the rug smolder and then catch fire.
“Oh no!” She ran toward the flame and tried to stomp it out with the toe of her sandal. “Ouch!” Her eyes followed the trail of the flame that spread toward the rags. She scampered backwards down the hallway, turned, and went into the kitchen. She flung open one cabinet door after another. She grabbed a pot and headed for the sink. She turned on the faucet.
“Dammit!” She dropped the pot in the sink and looked around her. She hurried to the hallway. The whole linen closet was on fire. Flames flickered across the ceiling. Smoke boiled out of the top of closet.
She turned, headed for the front door, and stopped. “My purse. What did I do with my purse?” She scanned the room and spotted it on the sofa. She rushed over, grabbed it, and hurried to the door. Without looking back, she flung open the door, went down the steps, and around to the back of the trailer where she’d parked her car.
She hopped in the driver’s seat, fished around in her purse for her keys, and latched onto them. Her fingers trembled as she tried to stick the key into the ignition switch.
CABOOM!
She jerked back in the seat and dropped the keys into the floorboard. She looked out the windshield and saw a piece of cardboard hanging by a strip of duct tape over the broken glass on the bathroom window. Smoke billowed out.
She felt in the floorboard and located her keys. She took a deep breath, and stuck the key into the ignition, and started the car. She dropped it into Drive, took off around the house, and down the driveway.
She knew of only one other place to go.
63
Cal called the D.A. about an arrest warrant for Callie and a search warrant of the Wallaces’ home. The D.A. said that he’d call the judge and see what he could do. In the meantime, Cal had to wait. He didn’t like waiting for anything.
Diana Anderson - Entering Southern Country 01 - Famous in a Small Town Page 18
