I couldn’t look at him. I stared at the floor, each fiber of the carpet in clear focus. He sat down on the couch, close enough I felt his warmth. “But he doesn’t know the woman was you.”
“He said you were with a woman he couldn’t identify. I was wearing a hooded sweater that day. I remember it was cold.”
Ridge turned to me, draping his arm across my shoulder. “But he doesn’t know it was you, Ava. The only thing he has is a video tape of a single man and a woman going into a motel room.”
I sprang up from the sofa and spun around to face him. “Grayson—whether he can identify me or not, what’s it going to say about you? About your character? We messed up that day, Grayson…We both know it.”
“No.” He leapt up and stood only inches away from me. “What I know is I would have killed Tommy myself if he had hit you again. That’s what I know, Ava. We didn’t mess up. Fate just had other plans that day.”
“Like keeping us apart?” Tears stung my eyes and rolled down my cheeks.
“That’s not fate’s doing.” He reached out to wipe the tears but I turned away.
I quickly brushed my hands over my face and sniffled. “We should never have been there that day.”
“What happened to Tommy happened, Ava. It wouldn’t have mattered if I had gone to the lake by myself that day instead of the Parkway Inn. I wouldn’t have been there anyway.”
I closed my eyes, wishing I could make him see the things I saw. “We went there to be together, Ridge. I had every intention of sleeping with you that day. If you hadn’t gotten the call when you did, I would have. Whether we did or didn’t doesn’t matter. We were someplace we never should have been.” I moved away from him and walked to the windows. Even through the darkness, I could see leaves swirling in a gusty wind. I could hear the river crashing against the rocky bank. And I could feel him behind me.
“You were going to leave him.” His voice was soft, his breath featherlike against my neck.
I wrapped my arms around myself to keep from reaching for him. “It doesn’t change the fact I was still married at the time.” I wasn’t the only one who saw the wrong in that; Doretha had hated Ridge ever since I tearfully confessed my sin.
He sighed heavily. “I wish to God there was a way you could move past the guilt.”
I turned around to face him. “Have you?”
After hesitating, he finally shook his head. “The only thing I was ever guilty of was loving you.” He lightly touched my cheek, and I let him, holding his hand there with my own.
For the first time in a long, long time, I wanted to give in. I wanted to break free of the crushing guilt and love him openly and wholly. But there was more to consider. My kids, his position…whether or not Ed Stinger had proof of our near-tryst didn’t matter. I couldn’t take the chance that he did.
“What are we going to do about Stinger?” I pulled away from him then walked back to the couch.
He followed and sat down beside me. “If he knew it was you on the tape, he’d have made a show of it. He’d have made sure you knew it.”
“But what about you? Whether you were single or not, it’s not going to look good.”
He slowly shrugged and smiled, but I saw the worry he was trying to hide. “I’ve got way too many things right now needing my attention more than Ed Stinger. Like Trish’s murder, and someone taking a couple shots at you.”
The issue with Stinger dimmed slightly as the sound of gunshots exploded again in my memory. “I spoke with Sherry Hastings this morning.”
Ridge stared at me with burning questions then leaned back against the sofa and dropped his head against the pillow. “Ava…didn’t I ask you to please leave this to me and Sullivan?”
I cleared my throat and spoke quietly. “I had to know, Grayson. I just couldn’t not do anything.”
Ridge guffawed. “And? What did you find out?”
I felt like a scolded child. “Sherry said Greg was digging Saturday morning, but she didn’t know where.”
He sighed loud enough the kids could have heard him upstairs. He rubbed his fingers hard against his forehead. “So you think he was in Pisgah Forest using you for target practice.”
“I don’t know what to think. But the only thing Trish and I had in common is ginseng. She dug it and I’m doing an investigative article on it. And the common thread is Greg Hastings.”
He slowly shook his head. “You have something else in common, Ava.”
I pushed thoughts around in my head, trying to grasp something to hold onto, to see another connection other than a plant with red berries.
Ridge blew a heavy breath, exorcising the tiredness like a demon. “Ivy,” he said, his voice slight. “Ivy’s a common thread.”
I blinked, allowing the words to sink in. And not wanting to believe it. “How is she connected to Greg?”
“Maybe she’s not. But she is connected to both you and Trish.”
Pushing myself up from the sofa, I stepped away from Ridge and his ideas. I wanted to walk as far away as possible. Could Ivy really be the catalyst for her mother’s death and the attempt on my life? The attempt on the life of my own children?
“You’re sure you have no idea who her father is?” Ridge asked.
I turned around to look him in the eyes, to comprehend where his thoughts were coming from. “We never talked about it. It was as if one didn’t even exist.”
Could all this really be domestic-related? If Ivy’s father even knew about her, was he angry over visitation? Child support perhaps? There were still so many unanswered questions. “I can sort of see how a domestic situation might be behind Trish’s death—maybe she was asking for child support or maybe he wanted visitation—but then why try and kill me?”
“That brings us back to the ’seng.”
Couple all the paternity issues with the fact Trish had made some enemies digging ginseng, it was enough to make anyone doubt the reality of either situation.
“Ginseng’s a very lucrative business,” I said, growing weary of the subject. It was becoming a bigger problem than just poaching.
“It’s lucrative when you’re hitting.”
“And Trish was hitting. That alone is enough to make other diggers angry. Especially if she’s digging where she’s not supposed to be.” And then thoughts began skittering through my memory like ants scattering from a destroyed mound. “Ridge—who asked me to look into the ginseng poaching?”
“Ed Stinger.”
“What if he knew all of this would connect back to Trish?”
He furrowed his brows, glaring at me. “You mean like setting you up?”
I quickly nodded. “Yes. Like a…threat. He asked me weeks ago for an endorsement.”
“What’d you tell him?”
There were so many thoughts running through my mind at that moment, it was hard to grasp just one, yet there was one that kept inching to the forefront. “I told him no.”
Ridge shook his head. “But why kill Trish? One, he would’ve had to have known you were babysitting Ivy that night. It seems a bit extreme because you refused to endorse him.”
I figured now was as good a time as any to come clean. “I also wouldn’t sleep with him.”
He looked at me with such intensity, I felt his questions. “He made a pass at you? When?”
I hesitated, going over in my own mind the probability that Ed Stinger could truly sink as low as murder. “I don’t know…He’s always made inappropriate comments but I just ignored them. Then not long after he filed to run for sheriff, he came by the office to pick up a candidates’ media kit. He asked me if I’d like to spend the weekend at one of the cabins—with him.”
“Was that the only time?”
I slowly shook my head. “No, there were several. The last time was…maybe two
or three weeks ago. Each time he was a little more…direct.” My body shivered on its own at the memory of his slimy hand on my shoulder. Behind his good ol’ boy southern charm and business sense, he was vile to the core. I remembered him tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear, remembered how my body went stiff at his touch.
Ridge gnawed on his bottom lip while considering Stinger and what I had just told him. “Has he ever made a romantic advance toward you? Not just wanting to sleep with you, but more interested in a relationship with you?”
My mouth opened but nothing came out as I replayed every recent encounter with Ed Stinger. They had been awkward and made me want to douse the room with antibacterial spray. “I don’t think a relationship is what he was wanting.”
Ridge slowly shook his head, his brows furrowed. “Stinger’s a creep, but murder? And a brutal murder, at that.”
“But why send me on this poaching investigation when the only one being poached is Calvin Cooper? It’s like he purposely steered me toward that story, and in the end, it had no basis.”
“Don’t forget the poaching up at Porter’s Peak. My guess is Stinger didn’t even know it was Trish doing the poaching. And because he knew about Calvin, he wanted to use it to make it look like I’m not doing my job. Anything he can use against me, he will. He’s an ass, but he’s not a murderer.”
Tension tormented every muscle in my body. Crawling into a soft bed and sleeping for a hundred years sounded like a good idea.
I hated to admit it, but he was probably right. Trish’s murder, Ivy, the ginseng, and someone firing off a couple shots at me may be connected. But no matter how I tried to manipulate the pieces, short of forcing it, I couldn’t fit Stinger into the puzzle anywhere.
“What are we going to do about the videotape?” I asked.
He ran his hand over his hair and sighed. “All he has is video of me and an unidentified woman going into a motel room together. That unidentified woman could have been an informant, could have been an out-of-town friend visiting…could have been anyone.”
But it wasn’t anyone. It was me.
CHAPTER 22
After a sleepless night, I was in no mood for grumpy kids and a toddler who refused to eat her breakfast. Even Emma, my perpetually happy child, grumbled over her cereal. And poor Finn ran and hid when Ivy let loose with a wail of rebellion over being plopped in the chair. I’d never had to deal with tantrums. Neither Cole nor Emma ever felt the need to stand in challenge.
But Ivy wasn’t my child. And I couldn’t send her home to her mother. We’d make this work. I’d figured out what to do with the tantrums, one way or another. No matter how unpleasant.
As much as I tried to put on a happy face to counter all the grumps, I couldn’t shake the image of Ed Stinger kneeling beside my table at the council meeting, sharing secrets, dirty little secrets, like a grocery store rag mag. The thoughts made me anxious to get on with the day, to face whatever shitstorm Stinger was trying to create. I hurried the kids along and packed up Ivy’s breakfast to finish at Doretha’s.
The morning ride was quiet aside from a few mumbles. At school, Cole did say goodbye before rushing off to catch up with Brady, while Emma gave me a quick peck on the cheek. Ivy silently waved at Emma as she watched her walk along the sidewalk to the main building. Watching Ivy in the rearview mirror offer a silent wave to someone who couldn’t even see her brought tears to my eyes. Could this child really be the cause for one murder and the attempt at another? Or was it the ginseng that robbed her of her mother? If Trish had been involved with poaching and it had gotten her killed, at least her murder had nothing to do with Ivy. I’d never be able to forgive myself if Ivy’s mere presence had put Emma and Cole in danger.
At Doretha’s, Ivy clung to me rather than wanting down to go play. She wrapped her tiny arms around my neck and squeezed. Maybe she sensed the tension that had been in everyone that morning. I hugged her a little longer and stroked her hair, and she finally gave way to Doretha’s outstretched arms. Ivy offered a slight smile then gently batted at Doretha’s braids.
“Mind if I bring Cole and Emma, and of course little Ivy here to church tonight? We’re having games and songs night.” Doretha made a funny face that made Ivy giggle. “I know it’s a school night, but I’ll make sure they get their homework done before we go.”
“Sure. I’ll send Cole a text and have Brady just drop him off here. Do you want me to pick them up afterward?”
Doretha shook her head. The beads on her braids clacked against one another. “I’ll bring them home. It’ll probably be around ten.”
I lowered my brows in question. “You sure you want to take Ivy? She’s not used to being up that late.”
A raucous laugh escaped Doretha’s lips. She put her hand on my shoulder and turned me toward the door. “You go on now, missy. We’ve got this covered. Go to work then enjoy your few hours alone tonight.”
The thought did sound appealing. A roaring fire, a bottle of wine, and one of my nightstand books I could no longer read because of my munchkin bed partners. Whatever fleeting moment of a happy thought I had was blown to pieces as soon as I pulled into the office parking lot. Ed Stinger’s Cadillac was parked near the door. Nola wasn’t in yet, so Ed had no choice but to sit in his car and wait for whoever showed up first. Unfortunately, it was me.
A sour taste filled my mouth as I unlocked the front door. I could feel him behind me, the stench of his aftershave gagging me.
“Good morning, Ava.”
He was one of my biggest advertisers and I loathed every dollar he spent. To lose his money would hurt the paper. Like Ridge had said, the man was a slime ball, but not a killer. I took a deep breath then let it out slow. “Morning, Ed.” My voice was barely audible to even myself.
“You got out of there last night before I had the chance to talk about my new ad.” Even the tone of his voice made my skin crawl.
I finally jammed the key in the lock and shoved the door open. I hated this man. Every passive-aggressive word that came out of his mouth was aimed at causing someone hurt. “I don’t normally carry ad spec sheets to council meetings, so I wouldn’t have been able to help you last night anyway.”
He followed me inside and stood by the wood stove as I lit the fire. While Betsy cranked up, I went into the kitchen and fixed a pot of coffee, thankful he hadn’t followed me back there. I leaned against the counter and waited for the first cup. The image of him kneeling beside the media table last night whispering his secrets would not leave my mind. Like the java, my anger was quickly brewing.
I wrapped my arms around myself to ward off the chill, and to coax out an ounce of inner comfort so I didn’t go totally ballistic on the creep. Once the pot was full, I poured myself a cup and headed back into the front office. He was sitting in the guest chair beside my desk with his expensive heavy wool coat draped across the back. I hadn’t bothered to ask if he wanted a cup.
“So…I thought for the next two issues, I’d go full page color. And I’d like either the back page or page two. Of course, I’ll pay the upcharge for prime placement.”
Any other time I would be giddy over a two-issue full page color with placement upcharge ad run—but now wasn’t one of those times. I blew a soft cooling breath into the steaming cup. “Is this for Stinger Realty or your campaign?”
“Oh, it’s for the campaign. I have a lot to say this time.” He winked and I wanted to sling the scalding coffee at him.
After a long moment, I finally put my mug down and pulled out an ad spec sheet. “What do you have in mind?”
He dug into his coat pocket and retrieved a folded piece of paper and an envelope then tossed them onto my desk. “I’d like to use at least one of the pictures if possible. They’re not the best quality but hopefully we can make one of them work.”
Just as I was about to open the envelope, Nola hurri
ed in and kicked the door closed behind her. “What happened to fall? It’s like winter out there.” She dropped her bag on her desk then went over to the stove and warmed her hands. “Good morning, Ava. Ed.”
Stinger’s smile reminded me of a snake slithering across a roadway. “Good morning, Miss Nola. You sure are looking lovely this morning.”
Nola chuckled and waved him off. “You always were the charmer.”
Whatever they were chatting about couldn’t hold my interest as I pulled the photos out of Ed’s envelope. They were still shots taken from a grainy video. From the parking lot of the Parkway Inn. Of Grayson Ridge and an unidentified woman outside room 110. Ground floor. Near the ice machine. If Nola and Ed were still talking, I didn’t know. Their voices melded together in a muted mumble of background noise. The world outside my narrow field of focus disappeared as my eyes zeroed in on the grainy images.
“Ava?” Ed lightly touched my arm to draw my attention. “Like I was saying, I want the ad to look like an actual news story. You know, with a headline and all. Sheriff caught in compromising position…something like that.”
I fought to keep from vomiting. One single incident had caused so much pain over the years, and was now resurfacing to cause even more.
“And then in the body of the text,” he continued, “I want it to hit on these bullet points…” He slid the piece of paper in front of me. Words like moral character, integrity, and leadership jumped off the page. “And then I’d like to work in the question in bold letters, and maybe a larger font, ‘If you can’t trust this morally corrupt man with your wife, can you trust him with your life?’ What do you think about that?”
Frantic, I shoved away from my desk and ran to the bathroom, making it just in time. I gagged on the vomit as the putrid venom scorched my throat. My heart thundered in my chest as the room spun like a child’s toy top.
Tell Me No Lies (An Ava Logan Mystery Book 1) Page 17
