Texas and Tiaras (The Book Cellar Mysteries 2)

by Melissa Storm

  Vi shot back a quick response. I’ll think about it. Maybe if they kept texting she might consider letting Marcus put the app on her phone. She wasn't too keen on breaking the law.

  Please, be careful. Annabeth replied.

  Vi did a sign of the cross and said a quick Catholic prayer of protection for her and her sister.

  “Sissy…?”

  Vi put away her phone, turned her gaze to Joy and gave her a half smile. “Why don’t we do a puzzle before I have to leave?”

  “The space one?”

  “Of course, whatever you want Joy-Joy.”

  The craziness of her life knocked outside her doorway like a hoard of angry villagers with torches and pitchforks. The desire to pop a pill—forget the world—came over her in a very real way. But she couldn't do that. Not with the devil waiting in the bushes—waiting to strike at any moment.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Brooke

  It had been two days since Brian had written off their loss, said the miscarriage was no big deal—two days since Brooke had made up her mind to leave him, this time for good. And for two days she’d been turning the decision over in her mind, attempting to devise a plan that would set it all in motion. For two days she’d waited with her bags packed, but without the courage to actually, physically leave.

  Once Brian had woken up from his nap, he’d acted as if nothing had happened, as if everything hadn’t changed in a heartbeat… or rather, in the absence of one very specific, little heartbeat. But Brooke knew she would never be the same, that whatever she chose to do next could very well change the course of her entire life.

  That’s what made every little action so daunting.

  If I tell him I’m leaving, will he try to stop me?

  If I sneak away, will he come find me?

  Will he be angry? Will he try to hurt me?

  Will he even care when I’m gone?

  The only way to know would be to stop obsessing, and start making things happen.

  “Brian, maybe we should talk about getting a divorce,” Brooke said to the reflection over her bureau. “I haven’t been happy in a long time. I don’t know, maybe I was never happy. It’s just that...”

  No, that’s too rambly. Be firm, be decisive. Don’t give him the opportunity to change your mind.

  She took a deep breath and began again, this time crossing her arms firmly over her chest. “Brian, I want a divorce,” she said in a stern, even voice. Yes, simplest is best. Now you just need to tell him.

  She tried to tend to her email while waiting for her husband to come home from work, but she couldn’t focus, knowing what loomed ahead that evening. Instead, she decided to indulge herself in yet another Netflix binge. After all, she’d only made it halfway through the newest season of Orange is the New Black, and if she didn’t hurry, Ligia would drop a major spoiler and ruin the whole thing.

  Be like Alex, not like Piper, she told herself. Just keep swimming.

  Brian arrived home with a loud bang of the door and an exaggerated groan.

  “Rough day at the firm?” she called out, and then immediately chastised herself for being too wifey. She needed to start being ex-wifey. Now was the time to make that transition.

  “Ugh, I’ve had the worst day ever. I need something strong and hard. Where’s that bottle of scotch I’ve been saving?”

  Brooke turned off the TV and padded into the kitchen where she retrieved the requested bottle of liquor and handed it to him.

  “What? No rocks?” he grumbled. He stood waiting for her to fix his drink.

  How long have we been like this without my noticing?

  She grabbed a tumbler from the cabinet, but then pressed the glass into his chest.

  “No rocks. We need to talk.”

  Brian set the glass down on the counter and gave her an odd look that quickly turned to amour. “Look, if this is about the baby, we can start trying again right now.” He loosened his tie and moved to close the distance between them, but Brooke took a giant step back.

  “We can’t. I’m not recovered. The doctor said no sex for at least a month. I just had surgery.” No, stop explaining. Tell him what you really want. This will all be over before you know it.

  He pushed her up against the counter and nipped at her bottom lip. “I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

  “No.” She attempted to rip herself from his grasp, but he had always been much stronger and didn’t seem to like letting go.

  “Oh, so you want to role play? Want me to be the big, bad rapist, and you the poor, innocent victim?” He pushed his body hard against hers and her fresh incisions screamed. He’d rip her open unless she could find a way to escape.

  “No,” she said twisting and squirming—efforts which caused excruciating pain. Still, she made little progress in extricating herself. “I want a divorce!”

  He loosened his grip, and Brooke squeezed out from under him. Slowly, she headed toward the stairs, holding a hand to the aggravated wound on her stomach and trying not to cry. Be strong, be strong. Don’t let him know he got to you.

  “What did you say?” he growled.

  “I want a divorce,” she repeated, crossing her arms over her chest just as she had practiced. “And you can’t change my mind.”

  “Like heck I can’t.” He moved quickly. If he had hurt her when trying to make love to her, what would he do to her now that she’d made him angry?

  She moved up the stairs as fast as she could, but her abdomen still hurt and fear made her clumsy.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” He followed so close behind her she could feel his words as they crashed into her back. “Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”

  “No! Leave me alone,” she sobbed. At the top of the stairs she flung herself into the first bedroom and locked the door behind her. It was Ligia’s room.

  Brian twisted the knob from the other side, but he was too late. She’d already shut him out, hopefully for good. He pounded on the door while Brooke bit down on her fist to keep from wailing.

  I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here.

  She searched through Ligia’s things, looking for something, anything, she could use to make an escape. Under her scattered bedcovers, Brooke spied a swatch of hot pink. Ah-ha, her iPad! Thank God for Wi-Fi.

  She opened up the text message center and punched in Jesse’s number. Brian continued to pound on the door, stopping every so often to speak to her softly as if he could be both the good cop and the bad cop all at once.

  “Brooke baby, come out of there. Let’s talk.”

  Brooke ignored him and typed in her message: Jesse, please come quick. Brian has lost his mind, and I’m scared.

  She waited for the read notification to pop up underneath his message, but her plea remained unseen.

  “B, you know I would never hurt you. Come out. We can work through this,” Brian said into the door. The knob rattled as he spoke. Would he find a way to jimmy the lock? Would he crash through, bringing the whole door down with him? She crept up and placed Ligia’s desk chair under the knob to form a makeshift barricade, just in case.

  “Brooke? I hear you in there. Stop this. Come out, and talk to me. I’m sorry. I love you.”

  Oh, now he loves me? I’m not buying it.

  He sighed. “Okay, you’re mad, I get that. I’m going out for a little bit to give you some time to cool down. When I come home, we’ll talk.”

  To give me some time to cool down? Or is this just a tactic to get me to lower my guard?

  She waited for more words, for the pounding to resume, but instead she heard footsteps tromping back down the stairs. What the…? Minutes later, the garage rumbled open and Brian’s car zoomed down the street.

  Had he honestly just left? It seemed that way, which meant she needed to act fast.

  She ran down the stairs to retrieve her own phone and a box of trash bags, then locked herself in the bedroom she and Brian shared.

  After shaking out a b
ig, black bag, she began to stuff in her designer clothes. The hurried movements tore at her incision, but she couldn’t stop, couldn’t slow down. Even if it meant reopening the wound. Somehow the prospect of all her guts falling out of her belly was less scary than the thought of facing her angry husband.

  Fast, fast. Don’t think, just do.

  “Siri, call Ligia.”

  Thankfully, Ligia picked up on the first ring.

  “Ligia, don’t come home. I’ll explain later, but don’t come home. It’s not safe. Stay with a friend. I’ll call you when you can come get your things.”

  “Auntie B, are you okay?”

  Brooke’s hands shook as she tied off the first bag and grabbed a second. “I don’t know. We’ll talk later. I love you.”

  “But what’s—?”

  She pushed the big red End Call button, then selected Jesse from her recent history and pressed call.

  “Brooke, what’s up?” he answered in a cheery voice. “Hey, is everything okay? I just got the weirdest messages from Ligia, but when I tried to call her she acted like nothing was wrong.”

  Of course, of course. No wonder she hadn’t heard back from him. He didn’t even know it was her. Now that she knew Ligia would stay safe and that Jesse was near, she broke down and crumbled to the floor alongside her two makeshift suitcases.

  “Jesse…” Her voice came out shaky. She hardly recognized herself. “I’m so scared. Please help me.”

  It only took him a second to respond, but in that brief interlude between asking for help and waiting to hear his answer, Brooke felt as though her heart had stopped beating, that if he were to say no, she would just fall over dead right then and there, just stop living.

  Jessie’s voice came out deep and sure. “I’ll be right there.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Annabeth

  Annabeth tried to move but the combined weight of her exhaustion and Marcus's sleep-heavy body had her pinned to the bed. He was a good head taller than her and because of his physical therapy was in top shape—as good as when he’d played ball in school. She pulled comfort from his physical strength almost as much as she did from his inner fortitude. As tired as she was, she knew she wouldn’t go back to sleep, no matter how cozy he might feel.

  It had taken her a while to get Ligia situated at Vi’s house. She didn’t have to ask why Brooke and Ligia were moving out. The terrified look on Ligia’s face told her enough. She’d slept fitfully the rest of the night and now found herself wide awake before the sunrise.

  The light on her phone blinked. Most likely messages from Fin. She couldn’t help but wonder if Fin was the one messaging Vi as well. She knew from the photos he’d sent that he or his cronies were stalking all of them, but what beef could he possibly have with sweet Vi? She should probably keep a closer eye on Vi just to be safe.

  Anna stretched as far as her reach would allow and snatched her phone off the nightstand. Three missed called from Mike, who had called at three, five, and six that morning.

  Ugh, that can’t be good. She clicked Call and held the phone up to her ear.

  “Did you get my messages?” The urgency in his voice sent a chill through her.

  “No, I just saw you called. What’s wrong?”

  “There’s another body. A young woman of Middle Eastern descent. She’s got the same ligature marks on her neck. This one didn’t have as many rat bites covering her, but she was tied up in the same wrapping material and left under another pine tree off three-sixty. A soccer mom passing by saw several men dumping the body. She was alone so she pulled over up the road and called it in, but by the time the cops got there well...whoever did this was very good about covering their tracks.”

  “Oh no! Hang on—I have a bunch of new text messages. Let me see if any of them are from him.”

  She pulled up her texts, and sure enough saw one from Fin. She opened it quickly and put Mike on speaker.

  “He sent me another text last night around ten. It says, To the ungrateful girl from her overly generous and patient King.”

  Mike sighed into the receiver. “Anna, you have to come forward and bring this all to the police.”

  “If my boss wanted their involvement, he would have gone to them, not us.” She twisted her hair around her finger until the tip turned white.

  “I’m sure all he really wants is for the men who killed his daughter to pay. Locking them up until the end of time is the best way to do that.” Mike paused for a moment. “Please, Anna. Come forward and work with the police. You can’t keep doing this alone. I have a friend at the First in Austin that is clean as a whistle, rather die than take bribes. Just talk to him. Please.”

  Marcus continued to snore beside her, oblivious to the world around him. How nice for him. She closed her eyes for a moment and let Mike’s words sink in. The toll the investigation had taken on her along with the many limitations she faced meant they hadn’t gotten very far. They had known going into this that they would have to involve the police at some point, but she had always envisioned them being closer to catching their target by then..

  “Text me his contact information, and I’ll talk it over with Marcus.”

  “Don’t wait long. I don’t want to hear about any more dead girls on the side of the highway.” The line went dead and Annabeth’s eyes stung. A short sob escaped her lips, waking Marcus.

  “Hey...babe. What’s wrong?”

  “Fin killed another girl, and Mike wants me to come forward and share what we know with the police.”

  Marcus let out a slow breath and drew her into his embrace. “I'll call Morgan…he’s not going to be happy. I really don’t see that we have another choice. The laptop didn’t have anything on it, not even porn.”

  His lips touched the crown of her head and she let out a sobbing exhale. “What about Fin? He said…” she choked on her sobs that she had been holding back for far too long.

  “That’s it... Let it all out.” He held her tightly to his bare chest—the only safe place in the world as far as she was concerned. “We’re going to catch this guy. Don’t you worry. He’s going to pay for what he’s done.”

  The tightness in her chest loosened. Marcus smoothed her hair away from her face and kissed her forehead, then her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and relished in the feeling of his mouth on hers—something she would never tire of.

  He broke from the kiss and nuzzled his nose against hers. “I love you.” His deep baritone voice sent a wave of pleasure through her.

  “Really?” She kissed him playfully on the lips. “Love you, too.” She brushed her fingers over his thick black hair. “You need a haircut.”

  Marcus twisted his mouth up into a teasing grin. “I can’t entrust these luscious locks in the hands of just any old barber, ya know.”

  Annabeth rolled her eyes and giggled.

  Marcus nuzzled against her neck. “Mmmm... so what’s on my beautiful woman’s agenda today?”

  “I’m going to work with Ligia and Brooke on this whole save Vi’s job initiative they have going on.”

  Marcus let out a deep belly laugh. “You ladies are something else. I think you have found your tribe, my love.”

  Annabeth raised her head off the pillow and rested it in the palm of her hand. “What are you talking about?”

  “For as long as I have known you, you've never once had a female friend. We’ve only been here a few months, and you are closer to these people than to your own Mama, who you need to call by the way.”

  Annabeth groaned, embarrassed by his on-point observation about her burgeoning relationships with the other Book Cellar club members.

  “Seriously though, I can tell that you care about them and that they care about you.” He slid his hand up her arm and gave it a quick squeeze.

  “Yeah...I guess so.”

  Marcus pecked her cheek and slid into his wheelchair. “This last week in the chair is going to crawl by. I can’t wait to get these casts off and get back on
my feet again.” He turned his head to look back at her—a Texas-sized smirk on his lips. “Get back to chasing you around the house.”

  Annabeth tossed a decorative pillow at his head.

  “You’d better get up. Aren’t they coming by soon?”

  “Yes.” She groaned as she got out of bed and threw on a pair of ripped jeans shorts and an olive green tank top that smelled clean enough. The doorbell rang just as she was putting her hair into a messy bun. “Coming!”

  She jogged over to the front door and opened it up to let Brooke and Ligia inside. They had stopped to get muffins and coffee on the way. If nothing else, having friends came with some pretty awesome perks.

  Brooke walked into the house like she owned it, setting up shop on the old kitchen table that they never used. “We have a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it in. Halloween is a week from tomorrow.”

  Annabeth took a seat across from Brooke, and Ligia hovered beside them, furiously typing something into her phone. Brooke rolled her eyes at her goddaughter and sighed loudly. “Liggy, put down the phone for five minutes. We have to work. This was your idea, remember?”

  “Five more minutes, I just need to finish this text….”

  Annabeth took the top of her coffee and blew off some of the steam. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to this, Brooke? I think everyone would understand if you needed to scale back your involvement in this project. Ligia and I can handle it.”

  Brooke’s face reddened. “Look, Annabeth. I don’t need your concern. We aren’t friends, and I don’t need you to do anything more than I have already asked. Is that clear?”

  Annabeth took a sip of her scalding hot coffee to wash back her angry retort. The woman had just lost her baby and left her husband, all in the span of a week, so she’d cut her some slack this time. “Crystal.” She took another sip and snagged a chocolate muffin. “What’s on the agenda?”

  Brooke handed her a color-coded list of action items. “The Book Cellar put us on the official schedule, and I’ve got a new sound company lined up. The Lilly Pad costume shop is comping us the rental fees for all of the ladies’ costumes, but mine of course will be custom made by the Pink Lady. The shelter gave us a bunch of their marketing materials for the website and social media graphics. Ligia, if she gets off her phone sometime this century, is going to get out all the PSAs and blitz the interweb to get the word out. We already have more than enough beauty contestants and mature women to sign up for the old versus new contest. And I’ve secured enough iPad donations to facilitate voting.”