Trouble let out a low growl. The cat was unhappy with the turn of events.
“Easy, boy. We can’t just bust up in there. We’re going to have to wait and watch. Nothing more.”
Roger waited a few minutes and when he saw nothing, he eased closer to the little house. If he could get a look in the window, he might figure out what Antoine was up to. Trouble clawed at his pants leg, as if to drag him back into the shrubbery. The cat was very bossy. When he ignored Trouble and ran to the side of the house to actually peer inside, the cat kept trying to drag him back, though he never made a sound, which was unusual for a cranky cat.
Antoine had disappeared from sight, but as soon as Roger got up to the cabin, he realized what his mother’s boy toy had been up to. The smell of gasoline was thick around the back of the cottage. Antoine had been soaking the old wooden structure in gas. He was going to burn the place down.
Roger reached for his phone just as a shadow moved across the white wood of the house. He started to turn, but too late. He heard Trouble’s wild hiss and screech just as something very hard came down on his head. He dropped to his knees and was struck a second time, sliding into unconsciousness on the ground right beside the house.
* * *
Only my quick reflexes save me from the same fate as Roger. I couldn’t get to Roger quickly enough to save him, and I don’t have a clear idea who the person who struck Roger is. Antoine was the last person I saw, but this figure, even bundled in a coat, doesn’t appear to be Antoine. And there’s the sound of a car starting on the street. And the rental car Antoine was driving is leaving! But someone is still in the house.
Pox! Roger’s phone is on the ground. The probability is that the phone no longer works, but at least the villain leaves it. And he also leaves Roger lying in the dirt beside a house he is setting on fire. If he doesn’t move, Roger will burn to death! Now the attacker is running like the cowardly criminal he is.
I have to get that phone—and dial Budgie or DeWayne. They have to come. A lucky break for me, the phone still works. Budgie is answering, and he is none too pleased. But he can hear the panic in my cry, and the sound of the fire is growing in volume.
“I don’t know where you are, Roger, or what’s going on with that yowling cat, but I can GPS your phone. I’m on the way!”
Thank goodness for a deputy with good common sense. And now for me to use the old sandpaper tongue to bring Roger to consciousness. I’m much rather lick Tabitha, but I don’t have that option. I have to make Roger move or he’s going to become toast. The flames are building in the center of the house, but soon they’ll be back here and I don’t want a barbecued farmer. Time to lick those eyelids, one of the most tender spots on the human body. Yep, he is moaning and trying to push me away. More licking, and he is opening his eyes. He’s beginning to feel the heat—and so am I. Time to move! He gets it and crawls awkwardly away from the house, which is quickly becoming a furnace. And here come sirens. Police, fire, I’ll take whatever arrives to help!
Here! We’re over here! Budgie to the rescue, and from the looks of him he’s as upset by the arson as I am. The fire trucks are containing the flames, thank goodness. What could have been a total loss will be minimal. I just hope he doesn’t think Roger started it.
Chapter Eighteen
Tabitha was pacing the well-appointed Long kitchen, the cufflink clutched in her hand, when her cell phone rang. She stepped outside the house to take the call, not wanting to awaken Charline or Samuel. To her surprise, it was the Sunflower County Sheriff’s Department. She recognized Budgie’s voice.
“Ms. Kingsley, there’s been a fire. Roger Long has been taken to the hospital. He was asking for you. It might be best to notify his aunt and uncle, too.”
“Is he hurt?”
“Not seriously, but he could have been.”
“I’m on my way to the hospital.” She hung up and ran to her car. Whatever was going on, she had to make certain that Roger was okay before she terrified Charline and Samuel. If they were needed at the hospital, she would come back and drive them herself.
Pluto the black cat was waiting for her beside her rented car, and when she opened the door, he leaped into the passenger seat. “Let’s hit it, Pluto.” She knew it was crazy, but she felt better while talking to the cat as she drove madly to the hospital. “Roger has to be okay. He has to be.” Pluto was not as vocal as Trouble, but he seemed to nod his head in agreement, and then he rubbed against her side, purring his comfort to her.
She’d lost everyone in her life that she’d ever cared about—except Roger. And Trudy. Trudy wasn’t dead. She and Roger would find Trudy. Because Roger was going to be fine. She hadn’t been willing to admit it, not even to herself, but Tabitha cared about Roger. In such a short time, he’d become an anchor for her, someone she’d begun to count on. Trudy was missing, her parents were gone, Roger had to be okay.
She ran into the hospital, stopping at the ER desk. She was asking about him when she saw him, standing near the far wall, coughing a little, but standing tall and on his own. He held Trouble in his arms.
“Roger!” She ran to him and put her arms around him, kissing him without a second thought. Life didn’t give a lot of second chances, and she wasn’t about to miss this one. Trouble jumped to the ground and went to the door, asking to be let out. A nurse, eyebrows raised, obliged. Tabitha just had a glimpse of Trouble and Pluto standing nose to nose. They seemed to consult for a moment and then both dashed away.
“Let’s get out of here,” Roger said. “Those cats are up to something.”
“I saw.” She glanced around. No one seemed to want to detain them. “You sure you’re okay to leave.”
“Just a goose egg on my head where someone hit me and a little smoke inhalation. Trouble saved my life. And Budgie too.”
“You know, I never really believed in ghosts or spirits until I saw them here in the Delta. All those years hanging out with the psychics and card readers in New Orleans, and deep down, I always thought they were basically kind people who offered something like grief counseling to their clients. You know most people really just want to believe that their loved ones are safe and happy.” She touched Roger’s face. “I’m seeing things a little differently. I would never have believed that a cat could help solve mysteries, but now I know it’s true.” She started to add that she would never have considered allowing herself to be vulnerable to love, but she stopped. When Trudy was found, that would be the time to explore her feelings for Roger. “This Delta excursion is changing my entire belief system.”
Roger stared down at her and something in his gaze made her heart want to flip. “Mine too. About a lot more than ghosts and cats. Now let’s find Antoine. That bastard knocked me out.”
Tabitha brought the cufflink out of her pocket where she’d stashed it. “Pluto found this in your mother’s bedroom.”
Roger took the cufflink and examined it carefully. “T&S. Like the financial company. I knew Antoine was involved. Now we have concrete proof.”
“The question is, what are we going to do with it?”
Roger’s body tensed. “We’re going to find Antoine and make him tell us where Trudy is.”
Tabitha nodded. It was time for action. They didn’t have enough evidence to go to the sheriff about Antoine, but it was enough for her to consider making him talk. “What about your mother?”
“She’s at the Prince Albert. We’ll start there.” He hesitated. “I saw a slender woman talk to Antoine before he set the fire. It wasn’t my mother.” He swallowed. “I know this sounds like I’m defending my mother, but it’s possible she’s being played. Hearing from Micah Malone at the séance reminded me how much Mother once cared for the earth and her interest in sustainable communities and crops. She may need our help.”
“And she’ll fight us from helping her every step of the way,” Tabitha said with weariness.
They slipped out of the emergency room and into the night where the two cats sat on the a
mbulance ramp waiting for them. They loaded up in Roger’s truck and sped toward downtown Zinnia and the hotel.
Tabitha couldn’t help but notice the emptiness of the town as they drove through. Even Millie’s Café, the local hangout that Trudy had raved about, was closed. Both Trouble and Pluto gave the darkened diner a long look, but they seemed to accept that a snack was not in the picture.
Roger parked in the back of the hotel lot and they left the cats in the truck as they went inside. Roger picked up the house phone on a table by the elevator. When the desk clerk answered, he asked for his mother’s room.” Tabitha held the elevator at the ready. Per their plans, she was going up to Hannah’s room before Roger in an attempt to reason with Hannah.
“She’s checked out?” Roger spoke aloud. He signaled Tabitha over and she stepped away from the open elevator. “Thank you. Did she say where she was going?” There was a pause. “Was there a man with her?” He nodded. “Thank you.”
He hung up the phone and shook his head. “They left. Antoine must have come here and alerted her as soon as he tried to burn me to death. They’re on the run.”
“Your mother would never condone that behavior, Roger. She may be greedy and a criminal, but she would not want you hurt. I believe that.” Funny, when she spoke the words she did believe them. Maybe because the alternative would be a pain that Roger would have to carry the rest of his life. No matter how awful a mother Hannah was, Tabitha refused to believe she’d go along with Roger’s murder. Hannah had to retain some love for her son, even if they were often at loggerheads.
“Where do you think they went?” Tabitha finally asked.
“Wherever they’re holding Trudy. I feel strongly that Trudy is alive.”
“What are we going to do?” She felt helpless, and even worse, she was beginning to lose her faith that Trudy would ever be found.
“My mother’s driving a rental car. An expensive one. Let’s go to the courthouse. I hate to roust Budgie and DeWayne again, but I believe they can track the GPS on that rental car. If they can locate the car, they’ll find Mother and Antoine.”
Tabitha sighed long and deep. “Thank you, Roger. I’d never have thought of that.”
“It may not work but it’s worth a try.”
He left the hotel parking lot and drove the short distance to the courthouse. A dispatcher was on the desk, but as soon as Roger explained what he needed, she radioed both deputies to come in.
“On the way,” Budgie said, a sentiment echoed by DeWayne.
Fifteen minutes later, both lawmen walked into the sheriff’s office. DeWayne’s hair was damp from being freshly combed and Budgie still smelled of the fire. Roger thanked the deputy profusely for saving his life.
“You should be thanking that cat. If you didn’t place the call to me, it had to be him. And just so you know, the fire dispatch received an anonymous call. That’s how they got there so fast.”
“Probably a neighbor. I am gaining more and more respect for Trouble and his sidekick, Pluto,” Roger admitted. “But I need your help with tracking my mother and Antoine.”
Budgie was frowning. “And I need to show you something.” He waved them over to a computer and pulled up the snapshot of the symbol Roger had emailed to him. “This has significance, but until I knew where to look, I can’t find it. I’ve checked chemical tables, trademarks, you name it. And I know you somehow photographed it from the dash of Trudy’s car.” He rolled his eyes at DeWayne. “I don’t even want to know how you did it. But I think Trudy Wells was trying to leave a message for us.”
Tabitha’s gaze locked with Roger’s. He spoke first. “Trudy may have been trying to tell us something about an experimental cotton seed called G9-14. She had a lot of reservations about planting it. When it’s daylight, we need to get testing done on my field where it’s planted.”
Tabitha controlled the rush of fear that swept through her. If Trudy had truly found that the seed was dangerous, someone very well may have taken her to silence her. “We have to find where Antoine and Hannah have gone,” she said. “Please. If my sister is alive, they may be on the way to kill her.”
DeWayne clapped Budgie on the shoulder. “Budgie is our own private little On Star. Find that car!”
Budgie began clicking and clacking at the computer while Trouble hopped on the desk to watch him. Pluto remained on the floor, looking up at Budgie’s screen as if he could comprehend it.
In a moment, Budgie signaled them over. “This doesn’t make any sense. The car is near an abandoned cotton gin in Lula. What would take them to a dying town near Moon Lake?”
Roger’s eyes were flinty. “Cotton. This is all about cotton. Who owns that property?”
DeWayne picked up a phone and spoke briefly to someone on the other end. When he hung up, he looked at Roger and Tabitha. “Dirk Cotwell owns the old gin now. I just called Ainsley Thimes, the tax assessor. He knows every piece of property in the state. Dirk bought that last year from Martin Kennedy. Ainsley said Dirk was talking about turning it into a research facility for some new kind of cotton. A controlled environment.”
“Lula is out of our jurisdiction,” DeWayne said slowly. “We have no legal authority there. We could call the local sheriff--”
“No! If they are holding Trudy and they get wind we know where they are, they could kill her. Besides, I don’t need legal authority. I just need to find my mother and I am going to wring the truth of her.” Roger’s expression was grim.
Budgie hit a button on the computer and a printer whirred to life. He picked up the page and handed it to Tabitha. “Here’s the map. It should take you exactly to where the car is parked. Remember, a lot of folks don’t take kindly to strangers poking around on their property. I don’t have any authority to act, but I’ll keep an eye on things here, with the tracker. If the car moves, I’ll call you and send an updated map. DeWayne’s going to check on Dirk.”
“Thank you,” Tabitha said. She grasped Budgie’s hand and squeezed it. “Thank you both. For saving Roger. For everything.”
* * *
The vast Delta night was nothing but inky black fields and a sky that throbbed with starlight. Roger was acutely aware of Tabitha beside him in the truck. She had a striking profile, and he loved the way her red hair curled in, hugging her jawline and emphasizing her slender, elegant neck. She was a study in contrasts. Her tapered fingers, graceful wrists, and willowy body implied she was a delicate woman, but there was tensile strength in her and a will that a pro linebacker couldn’t match. She was also kind-hearted, but she could do what was necessary, as she’d proven when she came into his household pretending to be something she wasn’t.
She glanced at him and instinctively reached over and caught his hand. “You okay?”
“I’m good. Are you?”
She shook her head. “I’m praying Trudy is at the old gin, and yet I’m hoping that she isn’t. What if she’s…dead?”
“Mother and Antoine wouldn’t risk going there if she was dead. They’d be headed for Atlanta and a flight to a country that doesn’t have extradition.” He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “They’re going there because she is alive. We have to get there to make sure she stays alive. I think I can reason with my mother. I know she’s greedy and awful, but at the séance, I caught a glimpse of the mother who cared about me. I think she’s still there and I can reach her.”
He was already doing ninety on the straight, empty roads, but he pressed a little harder on the gas and the powerful truck leaped forward. Trouble and Pluto looked at him, and he wondered if they were judging his driving. The idea was ridiculous, but he didn’t dismiss it. The last few days had upended a whole lot of what he believed about his family, cats, and women.
Tabitha tensed in the front seat, and the cats put their paws on the dash as he slowed and killed his lights. Half a mile in the distance was the outline of the old gin. The building was a black void against a spangled sky, and had he not been looking for it, he might have missed it u
ntil he was right on top of it.
“How are we going to do this?” Tabitha asked.
“You’re going to stay with the cats while I slip inside and take a look around. If it’s safe, I’ll call you to come in. If it’s not safe, I’ll send you a text and you can call the local law. And Budgie and DeWayne.” He could tell she didn’t like the idea of waiting in the truck, but she wasn’t going to argue. She was smart. “If it’s safe to come inside, I’ll text a 7. If I’m in danger, I’ll text a 9.”
“Okay.” She leaned across the cats and kissed him softly. “Be careful.”
“Always.” He got out and started walking on the side of the dirt path, his breath frosting in front of him. It was bitter cold, and he geared up into a jog. The dark, rusted tin building had once housed a miracle machine that pulled the seeds from the long fibers of the cotton in the first steps of preparation for it to be woven into cloth. Eli Whitney’s cotton gin had revolutionized the production of cotton cloth, and now that ‘technology’ was passé. The old gin was a place of tin, rust, and abandoned history.
Wind cut across the wide-open Delta and rattled the tin, making it whine. In front of him, the building seemed to rise out of the darkness.
The open metal doors looked like the entrance to eternity, and Roger hesitated. He didn’t have a weapon or a light, and while he was physically superior to Antoine, a gun would make all the difference. He slipped inside, allowing his eyes to adjust to the inky interior. From far at the end of the building came a tiny beam of light. Candle? Small flashlight? He couldn’t say. He eased forward, using one hand to feel for anything that might trip him up. Voices carried to him from the back of the huge building.
“You couldn’t leave well enough alone. We’re in trouble, and part of it is because you kept poking into things.”
It was Hannah’s voice, and Roger felt a rush of relief. Hannah had to be talking to Trudy. She was berating her for poking into the cotton. Which meant that Antoine had likely invested a substantial amount of Hannah’s potential inheritance in the experimental cotton. So what was it Hannah didn’t want him to find out? What had Trudy suspected?
Bone-a-fied Trouble Page 16
