I stood and offered my hand. “Thank you, coach. I appreciate it. And I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I know we’re not the big city, but some of us really appreciate your help with this.” Sincerity rang in every word. Man, I hoped Eli didn’t have anything to do with this.
I smiled. “Let’s tell the sheriff that when we’re done, shall we?”
“I’ve known Zeke since kindergarten, and I play poker with him twice a month. You bet I will, ma’am.” He tipped his Mathews Eagles baseball cap.
Ma’am. I vowed to stop on the way home for new eye cream. Smiling a thank you, I left him to his lineup and hurried back to my car before the bell rang again, checking my text messages and wondering if I could find anything else about Luke before Friday night.
18.
The moon and stars
The rest of my week sped by in a blur of routine crime stories, a murder trial, and sleepless nights spent in equal parts thinking about Joey (who had disappeared, save for the occasional text) and trying to fit the pieces of the Mathews puzzle together.
Bob warned me to stay under everyone’s radar and give Spence and Andrews time to cool off, which I didn’t see happening soon with Shelby yapping at them. I smiled and nodded and shoved office politics aside, mostly because I’d learned that Shelby will be Shelby, and I had bigger fish to fry than Spencer Jacobs.
By Friday night, I was fairly convinced Luke was my guy, and excessively grateful Kyle was taking me to the dance. A seasoned, superstar ATF agent could surely pry a confession from a pissed-off teenage boy. And arrest his murderous little butt, too. Leaving me to hand Tony and Ashton their answer and go back to my regular life. If I played it right, I might not even have to tell my mom about this one. She’d been crazy busy. If I told her she was off the hook for reading the week’s copy, she’d probably send me flowers.
I left work a little early and took Darcy out for a game of fetch. She took off for the back corner of the yard and dug furiously at something in the dirt. I picked up her stuffed squirrel and followed, squatting to examine her find when I saw it wasn’t a dead animal.
Cigarette butts. Unfiltered ones. I counted seven.
I looked over the fence. My neighbor was as granola as a person could get this side of Berkeley, but maybe he had a friend who smoked. Darcy’s barking and snarling at that part of the yard Tuesday night flashed through my thoughts, though, and I kept my ears open as we played, locking the door when I went back inside. Someone had been out there. The knowledge was slightly panic-inducing, and there was less than nothing I could do about it. I locked the doggie door for added measure and jumped when Darcy barked.
“Sorry. I’d rather keep you in one piece,” I said.
Kyle appeared on my porch at five-thirty on the dot, and I caught a sharp breath when I opened the front door. The cotton of his red button-down molded to his muscular shoulders like hot fudge over ice cream, the short sleeves outlining his impressive biceps with heart-stopping precision. His fitted jeans sported creases that could cut glass over perfectly worn-in Justin ostrich dress boots. But it was the black felt Stetson on his head that stuck the “hey” in my throat.
You can take the girl out of Texas, but a sexy cowboy is still sexy in Virginia.
“Evening.” He tipped the hat and winked and my knees forgot how to work. Jesus. I hung onto the door and tried to look casual.
“Evening, yourself. You look nice, cowboy.”
“You look beautiful.” He offered a hand and I took it, my fingers tingling when he laced them with his. It still fit.
I smoothed my smocked, prairie-print dress as I climbed into a white pickup, side-eyeing him as he started the engine. “You sell your Explorer?”
“Borrowed this for tonight. Just thought it fit a little better. And you used to like my truck.”
I shook my head, crossing my feet carefully so as not to scuff my chocolate-and-turquoise cowgirl boots. “I’m a little too old to be won over by a pickup and a nice hat.” Or I should be, anyway.
“I know you’re not convinced we belong together anymore,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road. “I’m not even sure I’m the only guy in your life these days. But even if I’m not, I’m the one who knows you best.”
I sighed, watching his profile and feeling a subject change coming on.
“So, I’ve had an interesting week.” I filled him in on my chat with Coach Morris, and brought him up to speed on Luke and TJ and Sydney—she was my sticking point, because I couldn’t nail down a motive for Luke killing her. Which brought me to Eli Morris. Who seemed like a nice enough kid. But Parker had told me baseball scouts would watch a first baseman more than they would an outfielder, and that plus Sydney equaled motive. I considered Coach Morris. He’d appeared genuinely torn up, and willing to help. But it had occurred to me that he might be trying to push my attention off his son. I wasn’t sure that was likely, but it wasn’t unlikely, given the tangled mess this story had been.
“What if the girl did kill herself? Assuming you’re right and there was any foul play at work here, of course,” Kyle said.
I pictured Tiffany’s sure expression, the pain in her brown eyes.
“Anything is possible, but I’m not willing to start down that road yet,” I said.
He nodded. “We’ll just see what we can see. What about the girl you told me about? Are we looking for her?”
I twisted my mouth to one side. I knew from a (very) brief call with (an annoyed) Sheriff Zeke on Wednesday that Evelyn was alive and well, just cutting class because she said she couldn’t take the stares and whispers. Which was either really sad, or damned suspicious, and I’d been unable to figure out which.
“I’m not sure she’ll show, because she’s been a hermit since TJ’s funeral, from what I understand,” I told Kyle. “But I can’t tell if she’s holed up because she’s sad or because she feels guilty, and I hear this thing is a big freaking deal to the kids out here. They don’t have too many places to hang out besides the beach and the 7-Eleven parking lot. So I’m hoping she won’t be able to resist. I’d really like to have a chat with her.”
“I’m not about to walk into an underage serving zone, am I?” Kyle asked, turning the truck onto 161 as the sun dropped out of the sky behind us.
“I can’t imagine. I mean, it’s in a public street. On the other hand, the sheriff’s cousins are local moonshiners, so I’m not a hundred percent on that. But don’t go busting out your badge unless someone cops to the murder, huh? Underage drinking is ABC police business, right?”
“Strictly speaking. Did my guy there ever call you back?”
“Nope. I didn’t think anyone liked me less than the FBI until I ran across those guys. I guess it’s a good thing I’ve never needed them for anything past a press-release follow-up before.” I glanced at him. “And a good thing I have friends in the right places these days.”
“You want me for more than my badge.” He winked.
“You know, part of my reservation comes from my rule against dating cops.”
“There’s a rule? Why don’t you tell a guy? I quit.”
I snorted. “You may not do that,” I said. “Someone I know tells me rules are made to be broken, anyhow.”
“I’m a cop. I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.”
“Well, they can always be changed. I’ll call a special session and rewrite the law. Maybe.”
He reached over and squeezed my hand. More sparks. “You have my vote.”
I flipped on the radio and watched the fields speed by as Kenny Chesney sang about kegs and closets. He had a point. Being a grownup isn’t much fun sometimes.
“You know,” Kyle said, “me being a cop comes in handy for you on occasion. I have a surprise for you.”
I waited for him to go on, but he just sat there, a smile playing around his lips.
“Are you going to share?” I asked.
He glanced at me from the corner o
f his eye. “I suppose you need time to prepare.”
“For what?”
“The ABC has a guy undercover out here, working a moonshining operation. We’re supposed to meet him at ten. It’s all strictly off the record, but you said that was okay.”
I stared for a second, then leaned across the bench seat and planted a kiss on his cheek. Even if I couldn’t quote the cop, maybe I could find out what was going on with the moonshine. If the ABC agent was in with the right crowd, I might even be able to figure out where TJ and Sydney had gotten it. I grabbed a pen and an old receipt out of the console in the truck and scribbled questions for the rest of the drive.
I directed Kyle into Elmer’s antique store parking lot and he marveled at the old-time feel of the converted gas station, even using some of the same words I had as he took my hand and helped me hop down from the truck.
It was effortless to fall back to a level of normal with Kyle. But did I want normal and comfortable, or did I want exciting and unknown?
A rainbow of lanterns zigzagged the width of Main Street, which was blocked off at both ends of the square. A table full of tween-aged girls supervised by Norma from the high school office sat across the head of the street. I handed the tallest kid a twenty. “Two, please.”
“Cute bag!” Norma said, eyeing my little brown leather “necessary objects only” evening pouch. The front was decorated with hand-sewn turquoise beadwork.
“Thanks,” I said. “I got it at a craft fair my mom dragged me to the last time I went home.”
“It’s nice of you to come,” Norma said, handing me two printed cardstock tickets. I tucked them into my bag without looking at them.
“The Accidental Rednecks are playing,” Norma said. “They’re local, and they’re real good. Don’t leave without trying the barbecue. And the pie. My momma helps bake the pies.”
I nodded, leading Kyle into the party. “Sounds great.”
Food and beverage stations lined the sidewalks for half a block, hawking everything from fresh-caught seafood to funnel cakes and kettle corn.
We walked through picnic tables, complete with red-checkered tablecloths, toward the stage that spanned the far end of the street. The band was cooking, playing covers of classic rock and modern country. The half-block in front of the stage was the dance floor, dotted with couples (age range: pre-adolescent to geriatric, which I found all kinds of charming) either dancing with each other or swaying to the beat as they watched the show. I turned toward the drink stand, remembering the last of my antibiotics was waiting in my bag, when the singer flipped his collar up and the band played the first strains of “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” Kyle caught my hand, taking the bag off my shoulder and dropping it to an empty tabletop.
“Dance with me,” he said, his blue lasers locked on my eyes.
Speechless, I followed him to the dance floor.
Everyone else fell away, and if I didn’t know better I’d swear Kyle had paid off the singer to write a set tailored for us: we swayed, two-stepped, and boogied through a dozen of my favorite songs before the band took a dinner break.
“I think that’s our cue to go eat, too,” I said, breathless. “And to get some investigating done.” I looked around at the darkness that crowded in from all sides, held at bay by the pretty lanterns, and checked my watch. “Holy cow. We’ve been here for over an hour.”
I grabbed my purse and joined a dozen people waiting in line for drinks.
Smiling at the pretty bartender I recognized from Bobbi’s club, I ordered an iced tea and shook the last tablet from my prescription bottle, swallowing it and tossing the bottle in the trash. I scanned the dancers for Luke, or Coach Morris, or Evelyn, but didn’t see any of them.
“Maybe everyone’s getting food,” I said, pulling Kyle toward the barbecue table, my stomach reminding me that I had skipped lunch to get my juvenile murder trial wrap-up done and ready to go on the web before Charlie got it on the air. “You hungry?”
“I’m always hungry,” he said, wriggling a suggestive eyebrow.
I rolled my eyes. “Chicken. Toast. Pickles.”
It all smelled heavenly, and I was slightly surprised to find Bobbi serving it.
“You ladies doing all the food service for the party?” I asked. “How’d you swing that?”
She grinned. “Thanks to you, I’m not nearly the leper Dorothy made me out to be for the past year. The mayor came in for lunch—with his wife—and they asked me to come cater the party when they got a load of Grandmomma’s sauce.”
I ordered myself a C-cup and Kyle a rack of ribs, and dropped a twenty in her tip jar when she refused to take payment for the food.
I’d put exactly three bites in my mouth when I spotted Evelyn lurking near the ice cream stand.
“She’s here.” I dropped my fork and stood, straightening my dress. “The girl. I’ll be back. Wish me luck.”
“At least finish your dinner,” Kyle said. “She’s not going anywhere.”
I stared at her pink-rimmed eyes—which I suspected were crimson under her concealer— and guarded expression. “I’m not so sure about that,” I said. “Sit tight for a few. I won’t be long.”
I wandered toward the ice cream stand, skipping my eyes around the crowd and trying not to look too obvious. Turning to glance behind me at just the right moment, I practically tripped over Evelyn.
“I’m so sorry!” I said over the music, righting myself and putting a steadying hand on her arm. “Are you all right? I should look where I’m going.”
She nodded, a smile teasing the corners of her lips. “You didn’t hurt me, at any rate.”
I tipped my head and studied her. “Don’t I know you?”
“This is Mathews. Everyone knows everyone.”
I smiled. “It seems. But I’m from Richmond. Oh, I know!” I snapped my fingers. “I saw you at TJ’s funeral. In the restroom. You were quite upset. Are you feeling a little better? Ice cream always helps me.” I nodded to the cone in her hand.
“I’m all right. I guess. Better than TJ and Syd.”
Sydney’s funeral had been the day before, her parents waiting for out of town relatives to get flights arranged.
“It’s such a sad situation,” I said.
“Syd was my best friend.” Her voice broke. “For my whole life. Until last year. Stupid boys. Stupid me.” She ducked her head and covered her face with one hand, tears dripping from her face as fast as vanilla-chocolate swirl dripped from her fingers.
I passed her a napkin from the holder on the edge of a nearby table.
“Thanks.” She looked up, sniffling, and tossed the cone into a trash can. “I just want to talk to her one more time. To tell her how sorry I am. How much I wish I could make it right. How stupid I was.”
“I’m sure she knew,” I said. “That you were sorry, I mean.”
She shook her head, hard, her wispy blonde hair flying. “No, she didn’t. TJ was so cute, and he was so good to her. I just wanted someone to treat me that way. Stupid TJ. Why did he have to be such a good guy?” Her eyes narrowed as she spoke, her tone changing from anguished to angry. Huh.
I shrugged. “It’s just the way some people are,” I said. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to be offensive with it.”
“Of course he didn’t. Syd was an amazing person. She deserved TJ. I didn’t wish anything bad for her. It’s just not fair. I miss my momma. My dad is—” she paused, hauling in a steadying breath. “Well, anyway. Syd’s folks loved her like my momma loved me. She was an only child, too.”
“So I heard.”
“I just wanted to tell her I was sorry. Then she ran off to France to get away from me. From TJ and me, maybe. And I tried to tell her at the party when she came home, but she threw her drink in my face and screamed that she hated me.” She dissolved into a teary mess, mumbling what sounded like “hated me” over and over between hitching breaths.
Christ on a cracker. I leaned on the side of the ice cream trailer and patted Eve
lyn’s heaving shoulder. Maybe I was wrong about Luke.
What if this girl had blamed TJ for losing her BFF and then lost her shit when Sydney humiliated her after TJ was dead? I felt bad, trying to comfort her while wondering if she was a murderer, but I’d have felt worse if I walked off and left her sobbing like that.
I watched the crowd as I pondered, spotting Luke on the dance floor with a pretty redhead in a fabulous pink cotton dress. I kept my eyes on him as they moved, shimmying to “Little Sister” before she locked her hands behind his neck and he laid his on her hips when the keyboard player tapped out the opening notes of “The Dance.”
Evelyn cried herself out and looked up, wiping the concealer off her eyes as she did so. She looked like an extra from Night of the Demons.
“Thanks. Everyone around here has treated me like a dog since TJ died. Worse, really. Most people like dogs.”
I tried to smile. “It gets better.”
“People keep telling me time will dull the pain. But does it get rid of the guilt?”
I’ll take loaded questions for four hundred, Alex.
“I meant, just life in general. High school can kind of suck. But it gets better,” I said. “Hang in there.”
“I’m trying.” She scrubbed at her face with the napkin, her eyes falling on a cluster of pretty girls who were actually pointing at her as they cackled and chatted. “It was a big mistake, me coming here tonight. I need to go home. But you were nice, and I needed that. I haven’t seen or talked to much of anybody since the funeral.”
“Don’t mention it.” I thought about what I’d managed to glean from the conversation. She was at the party where Sydney died. “Hey, Evelyn? What was Sydney drinking that last night?”
“Freaking moonshine.” She wrinkled her nose. “I heard her tell someone it was a gift. Somebody told her it’d dull the pain. She’d had half the jar when she got pissed at me. She was having trouble walking, but she still managed to hit me with the stuff. It stings when it gets in your eyes.”
Small Town Spin Page 21
