“Ava?” Nola asked from the hallway. “Honey, are you okay?”
I rested my face against the cool porcelain and cried.
Nola was still on the other side of the door, her perfume slipping under the threshold. “There’s a stomach bug going around. Sure hope that’s not what it is.”
Ridge had been right. Stinger didn’t know I was the woman in the pictures. Still, if they were ever made public, it wouldn’t shine a good light on Ridge. It could possibly cost him the election.
Nola rapped lightly on the door then poked her head in. “Brought you some water, Sugar.” She stepped in and handed me the bottle then rolled off several paper towels from the holder. After dampening them in the sink, she handed them to me. “You poor thing. Think it’s a bug?”
I blotted my face with the paper towels, sucking in long deep breaths. “It’s a bug alright. Just not a stomach bug.”
She lifted her perfectly waxed brows. “Not following, but that’s okay. I’m going to go check on Ed if you’re sure you’re okay.”
I stood and squared my shoulders, harboring a newfound approach to Ed Stinger. My knees wobbled a little but I waved Nola off with a nod. “Tell Ed not to leave yet. I’d like to continue our conversation.”
She closed the door on her way out, leaving me alone with my reflection in the mirror. At that moment, I didn’t see weakness; I saw strength. I washed my face then brushed my teeth and took a deep breath.
Ed was still at my desk, reviewing his ad. He looked up and smiled in a genuinely concerned way. “I hope you’re feeling better. Can’t have our star reporter coming down with anything this close to the election.”
“Nola, would you be a sweetheart and run down to Sweet Treats on Main and grab a box of cinnamon rolls?” I handed her a twenty from my wallet. “And then swing by the post office on your way back. No hurry though. Take your time.” Our eyes met as she took the money, and she understood.
When I was certain she was on the road, I locked the door. “We need to discuss your advertisement, Ed.”
“Certainly. Sure you’re feeling up to it?” He watched me move to my desk and seemed surprised when I didn’t sit down. Instead, I leaned up against it, towering over him in the chair.
“I won’t be running that particular ad.”
The look of surprise on his face was nearly comical, but I wasn’t laughing. “Pardon?”
“I said I wouldn’t be running your ad. I’m not going to be a part of your smear campaign.”
He stood up, his irritation showing in his clenched jaw. “Now wait just a minute, Ava. It’s not a smear campaign if it’s the truth.”
“How do you know it’s the truth? All you have is a picture of Sheriff Ridge and a woman in a motel parking lot. She could have been a cousin visiting from out of town, or maybe an informant—you have no idea who she was and no right to judge him for being there with her.”
He blew air out his nose then crossed his arms like the pompous ass he was. “Look here, Ava—I’m paying a right nice figure for space in your paper. With that comes the right to say what I want, since I am paying for it.”
I shook my head. “Have you ever read that tiny disclaimer in the paper’s media kit? It says the publisher has the right to refuse any advertisement they deem inappropriate for a family publication. I’m the publisher, Ed. And I’m refusing your ad.”
His face flushed the color of beets. Our eyes were locked in a battle of wills, both of us refusing to look away.
“I suppose you’re going to sweep the whole incident under the rug and not do a story on it either?” He was so angry, he radiated heat.
“There is no story, Ed, and I’m certainly not going to make it look like there is.”
“Does it not bother you to know where he was the day your husband was killed? They were partners, right?”
I pushed by him, got my mug, then went back to the kitchen and poured myself a fresh cup. I counted to ten to steady my nerves, proud of myself so far. I hadn’t shed the first tear. When I returned to the front office, he was at the wood stove staring at the black cast iron like it held the answers.
“You didn’t answer,” he said, turning around to face me.
I returned to my position of leaning against the desk rather than sitting down. It made me feel more in control, stronger. “Tommy and Grayson Ridge were work partners. They weren’t joined at the hip. Ridge was on vacation the day Tommy died. If anything, Tommy should have waited for backup before going into a domestic situation. That’s basic law enforcement. Surprised you didn’t know that, considering you’re running for the top law-enforcement position in the county.”
He chuckled, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound like a child might make. It was dirty and vile and sounded how I imagined Satan himself did. “Why are you protecting him, Ava? Don’t you think the people of Jackson Creek deserve to know what kind of man he is?”
I took a slow sip of coffee before responding. “I’m not protecting him, Ed. The truth is—Grayson Ridge is a good man. The people of Jackson Creek already know that.”
He nodded, not in agreement with what I’d said but accepting he wasn’t going to change my mind about it. “You may be the only newspaper serving Jackson County, but there are other ways to get a message out.”
“Are you going to spew your lies through postcards, flyers maybe? Perhaps shout it with a bullhorn while you’re riding in the school’s Homecoming parade?”
He pursed his pencil-thin lips. “I won’t need to go to that extreme. All I really need to do is plant the seed. The gossips in this town will take it from there.”
I strolled over to the stove and stood close enough to him I could smell his sweat. “Plant a seed. I like that. I like that a lot. I might have to plant my own seed. Except my seed would be the truth.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You, Ed. I wonder how many other women in town would come forward and say you’ve come on to them too, if I planted that seed?”
A spark in the stove popped and echoed in the silence filling the room at the moment. I finally turned and looked at him, wanting to see the bastard squirm.
“You must have mistaken my friendliness for a romantic gesture. I assure you, Miss Logan, coming on to you was never my intention. I’m a very happily married man.”
I nodded. “And was your wife going to join us at the cabin you wanted to take me to?”
He sucked in a sharp breath and steeled his jaw as rage filled his eyes. “My wife is a sickly woman—”
“Then it’s going to look real bad if and when I divulge your dirty little secret, isn’t it, Ed?” I folded my arms across my chest, more in control of any situation than I’d ever been. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll run your full page color campaign ad, but instead of trashing your opponent, it’s going to tell the voters what you can do for them. And you’ll continue to run the Stinger Realty ads just like we’ve never had this conversation. Does that sound like a good deal to you?”
We stood there staring at one another for a long moment without saying anything. What else really was there to say? He’d played his cards, and I’d played mine. After a moment, he walked over to the chair and put his coat on then cut his eyes at me on his way out. I could see his Cadillac through the window and when I saw it turn out on to the road, I finally let out the breath I’d been holding.
CHAPTER 23
I left the office around four thirty, went home, and soaked in a steaming hot bath until the tips of my fingers were wrinkled. A glass of Chardonnay and Edgar Meyer’s “Appalachia Waltz” playing softly on my phone helped erase the tension of the day. After the second glass, I actually giggled, remembering the look on Ed’s face when I gave my little speech.
Wrapped in nothing but my fluffy bathrobe, I padded downstairs with Finn at my side. I c
ouldn’t remember the last time I had any amount of consecutive hours to myself. Yet I wondered about the kids. Ten o’clock was going to be awfully late for Ivy, and probably Emma too. Would Cole have time to finish his homework? Football practice or not, he still had a good two or three hours’ worth of homework every night. I wondered if Brady would go with them. Maybe I should have asked Doretha if she would mind. I couldn’t imagine why she would but I’d never been one to assume.
I debated calling just to make sure, then shoved the thought aside. Knowing Doretha, she’d invite him herself.
I heated a plate of leftovers in the microwave then carried it and the bottle of wine into the sunroom. My own private sanctuary. Finn tagged along, anxious for a bite. After starting a fire, I sank into the couch with Finn at my feet and poured another glass of wine. Following a couple bites of my less-than-appetizing supper, I was happy to share it with Finn. While he ate, I flipped through channels on the TV. I wasn’t in the mood for the entertainment news shows nor did I have the brain power for Jeopardy. I turned the television off and settled in to browse through the latest issue of People.
There was nothing within the slick, glossy covers that interested me. No matter how much I tried to concentrate on someone else’s story, or my relaxing night alone, my thoughts kept going back to Trish.
There was so much I didn’t know about her. What if she had been involved in something that had, ultimately, gotten her killed? Would I shield Ivy from that truth or speak honestly to her when that day came? And where did Ivy fit into this? Was she the cause or was it the ginseng? If it did come down to being all about Ivy, that truth would be better left unsaid. The child would have enough to deal with. Telling her she may have been the reason her mother was murdered would remain off limits, at least in my household. I couldn’t always protect her from the outside world, but I’d damn sure protect her in my own home.
Finn’s ears perked up at the sound of something only he could hear. He stared out the wall of windows for a moment then decided his food was more interesting. I rubbed his fur before pulling out a notepad and pen from the coffee table drawer.
On one side of the paper I wrote TRISH, in the middle I wrote IVY, and on the right-hand side I wrote, ME. I separated the headings into columns with a line drawn down the length of the paper. I stared at the paper for a good while before writing the first thing, but then the thoughts started coming. One after the other, I jotted down everything I knew to be true that connected the three of us. Ginseng, Ivy’s birthday party and the two other women that were there, Minnie’s Cafe where we often had lunch, Dale and Linda Tilly—the gun collector I did an article about who had also bought artwork from Trish—and Ed Stinger, who had asked me to investigate a ginseng poaching problem that he’d hoped to turn political.
He had also shown a more-than-average interest in finding Trish’s killer. Was his interest merely campaign related in an effort to make Ridge look bad? Or was he truly interested in the community’s wellbeing? Ed Stinger seldom did anything for the betterment of someone else. There was always an ulterior motive.
Finn stopped eating and lifted his head, his ears on alert. I pulled the robe tighter around myself, my nerves flickering with unease. “S’okay, boy.” I stroked his neck, more unsettled than I cared to be. Just as I went back to my list, a low growl rolled up from deep in his throat. A swarm of butterflies stomped uneasily in my stomach. I moved over to the side table, feeling for the key taped underneath, then unlocked the drawer. I eased the drawer open and caught the gleam of the Glock.
A soft knock on the back door stopped my heart. Whoever was there knocked again, this time a little harder. Finn stood at guard and let out a loud woof the same time my cell buzzed, fraying my nerves even more. I’d never been so happy to see it was Ridge calling. “Hey—”
“I’m at the back door. You okay?”
I let out the breath I’d been holding as Finn led the way into the kitchen. “Yeah, just a little jumpy.” I stood at the door a moment, allowing my heart to settle back into its normal rhythm. When I opened it, we were each still holding our phones to our ears. We both grinned; he slipped his phone in his jeans pocket, I slipped mine into my robe pocket.
He held a case of diapers in his other hand. “Thought I’d bring these by.”
I smiled, then held the door open and motioned to the counter. “You didn’t have to do that. But thank you anyway. You can just put them there. I’ll take them upstairs later.”
Finn nudged by him, bounding down the porch steps in hot pursuit of an opossum. Ridge unloaded the diapers then leaned against the counter. “I didn’t see any lights on in the front…got a little worried.”
“I’m fine. Okay, I was a little jumpy.” A slight smile played on my lips.
He followed me back into the sunroom and raised an eyebrow when he saw the Glock in the drawer. “A little jumpy?”
“I haven’t been here completely by myself in a long time. Yeah, I guess I was a little jumpy.” I closed the drawer.
“Where are the kids?”
“With Doretha. She had something at church she wanted to take them to.”
“Even Ivy?”
I nodded. “Yes, and they won’t be home until after ten. She’s going to be one cranky baby in the morning.”
He smiled and the light of the fire sparkled in his eyes. “Maybe I should go and let you get back to enjoying your alone time.”
The thought of him leaving scared me; the thought of him staying scared me even more. “It’s okay. I was just looking over some notes about Trish and the whole crazy mess.”
“You’re not supposed to be doing that after hours.”
I shrugged and couldn’t stop the smile. “You want a beer? There’s two left from the other night.”
“Sure.” He took off his coat and draped it across the back of the chair. When I returned from the kitchen, he was sitting on the couch reading over my handwritten spreadsheet. “How is Ed Stinger connected to Trish or Ivy?”
“He’s not really. I mean, other than the possible poaching. But if he didn’t suspect Trish was poaching, then there is no real connection to him.” I handed him the bottle then sat down beside him. I poured myself another glass of wine. “He does seem to have an unusual interest in Trish’s death.”
After sipping his beer, Ridge slowly nodded. “But—and I thought I’d never defend Ed Stinger—he is running for sheriff. He has to make a good show of it. If there were a sudden rash of car break-ins, he would probably be all over that too. Anything to make it look like I’m not doing my job.”
I took a slow sip of wine, wondering how to word what I was about to say. The wine wasn’t helping. I cleared my throat. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about Ed.”
The Guinness bottle stopped mid-route to his mouth, hanging there, suspended in air. He cut his eyes toward me then took a swig of his beer. After swallowing, he asked, “Why don’t I have to worry about Ed? What did you do?”
“He came by the office this morning. I just gave him an ultimatum, that’s all.”
He took another long sip of his beer then turned on the sofa to face me. “What kind of ultimatum? Please don’t tell me it could be misconstrued as blackmail.”
My eyes widened. “Blackmail? If anyone could be accused of blackmail, it would be him.”
He pursed his lips and drummed his fingers on the bottle. “Let’s start over. Why do I no longer have to worry about Ed Stinger?”
“He brought me a new campaign ad. He wanted me to run a picture of a still shot he had made from the video. He had some cheesy tagline to go with it. Something like, ‘If you can’t trust this morally corrupt man with your wife, can you trust him with your life?’ And I refused to run the ad.”
Ridge fell quiet. He slowly worked his thumb over the label on the bottle. “I appreciate you not running it
. But he’ll just find another way to get his message out.”
I softly shook my head. “I don’t think so. I told him if he did everyone would know about his unwelcome advances and what kind of sleaze ball does that with a sweet sickly wife at home.”
He jerked his gaze up at me. “You didn’t.”
I slowly nodded. “Is that really blackmail? I mean, since he did it first?”
He let out a full-blown laugh that settled into a chuckle.
“It’s going to cost me money, you know, so the least you can do is run a full-page ad in its place.” I lightly nudged him with my elbow.
He grinned. “What about his other ads? The ones for Stinger Realty?”
I gnawed on my lip a moment then confessed to that too. “I don’t think I have to worry about those. I told him if he tried to cancel, he wouldn’t like the stories I would tell.”
He tipped his beer at me. “Now that’s extortion. Blackmail, extortion…all in one day. You ever work for the Mob?”
We both laughed and my heart was so full, I couldn’t stand it. There was no anger between us, no hurt. No past.
Still chuckling, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me to him. “God…Ava…I love you.” He kissed my hair and everything in the world at that moment vanished.
Was he joking? Was he just kidding around or did he mean it in the way I wanted him to? At least I thought that’s the way I wanted him to mean it. I wanted him to love me the way I had loved him all these years.
“You know I’ve always loved you, Grayson,” I whispered, but it was loud enough for him to hear.
I turned my face up to his and accepted the tenderness of his lips. So many years…so many tears. I had known I loved him the first day Tommy introduced us. His voice, so deep and soft. His eyes, those crystal blue eyes, so clear you could see down to his soul. And it was such a beautiful soul. So caring and thoughtful, almost mystical in nature.
Tell Me No Lies (An Ava Logan Mystery Book 1) Page 18
