When Noonday Ends: A Southern Romantic-Suspense Novel - Nantahala - Book Two

by Carmen DeSousa

  “I already agreed to be your wife last night.”

  “But you have to believe it. And want it.”

  She focused her gaze on his. “I do.”

  “Okay…so let’s not worry about things out of our control right now. I’ll find out as much as I can tonight. And until then…” He pressed her against the counter, moving his body up against hers. “Let’s enjoy this mini-honeymoon.” He touched his warm lips against hers for a few seconds and then pulled back. “And breakfast. I’m starving. And make sure you make us cookies.”

  She laughed. “Barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, Tom. Is that how you like your women?”

  He tilted his head, wiggling his eyebrows. “I don’t know about barefoot. I rather liked those boots the other night.”

  She tried to shoo him off, but he didn’t budge.

  “Darling, you can do anything you want. Get pregnant. Don’t get pregnant. Cook. Don’t cook. As long as you’re mine, do anything your little heart wishes, and just stop talking nonsense and kiss me. I think I’ve proven my intentions.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with as much power and sensuality as she could put into a kiss. “Okay, Tom. You win. I’ll show you my gratitude later…when Justin takes his nap.”

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about.” He walked off toward Justin’s room. “Little man, come help T.T. pack for a hike. I’m teaching you city folk the ways of the land today.”

  Shelby inhaled a deep breath and leaned against the counter. Once again, when she should be breaking down, crying, Tom had wiped away her tears. And as much as she knew Andy hated Carlin, she knew there was no way he would have drowned him and killed an innocent man.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Bearns watched Andy’s eyes for any hint of acknowledgement to his question.

  “You ’r here to help clear, Shell?” the man asked instead of answering him. “’Cause Shelby didn’t do nothin’.”

  He almost choked. As a detective, he’d be salivating right now. He was gonna get a confession. “Andy, did you kill Carlin Castle and Roger Hale…to protect your sister?”

  Andy’s eyes flicked to Michelle walking in the room. He jumped up. “I gotta go.” The young man appraised him, as if wondering if he could trust him. “Clear Shell…whatever it takes. She’s innocent.”

  Bearns rushed to follow him out of the house. But he’d already leapt the steps and was hopping into his old beater. “Andy, if the evidence leads to you, that’ll clear your sister.”

  He shrugged. “So be it. I got nothin’ anyway.”

  Michelle stepped up behind him. “Wiry thing, isn’t he?” she said in a low, seductive tone, resembling a purr.

  Bearns nodded, a twinge of jealousy striking him because of her drooling. “Yeah…but I’m not sure he killed anyone.”

  She laughed and walked inside the house. “You’ve been wrong before.”

  He cocked his head at the woman, even though she couldn’t see him, and huffed out a breath. Why hadn’t he noticed this side of Michelle a year and a half ago? She obviously wanted him to follow her inside the house.

  “You mean Brandy?” he asked as he picked up his cup, sinking into the chair across from her.

  “Yeah. You could have saved us all a lot of heartache if you’d known she was the one who’d kidnapped Cassandra.”

  He whisked the back of his fingers up his jawline and stared out at the property belonging to the Turners. Since the leaves hadn’t all emerged, he could see the creek that ran behind their house.

  What was he thinking, entertaining the thought that Michelle would have an interest in him? He couldn’t provide any of this. Although, she didn’t seem to be thinking about money when she’d eyed Andy from head to toe. The woman was brutal, even though he knew she had a soft side.

  He focused his gaze back on her. “I wish I’d gone with my gut… That case is one of the reasons I quit the force. I didn’t save Cassandra; your brother did.” He pulled in a breath and released it. “Brandy would have killed her after the baby was born, and I’d ignored my gut feeling because I’d concentrated my investigation on Chad. Standard protocol, go for the most likely, which is usually the spouse.”

  Michelle nodded, as if she understood, but didn’t say a word.

  Bearns shook his head. “If Tom hadn’t shown up at the police station when he did, I swear I would have pulled a confession out of Chad. I’d almost broken him a couple of times. I actually had him believing he killed his wife. And I’d been wrong.”

  Michelle reached out her hand. “Hey, I’m sorry. I was just giving you a hard time. I didn’t know all that.”

  He rubbed his fingers over his eyebrow. “It’s a weird occurrence, but it happens. A family member—a spouse or parent—feels so guilty that they weren’t able to protect a loved one that they convince themselves that they killed the person and confess.” He shook his head. “Anyway, I don’t have to deal with that as much now. Mostly, I uncover insurance fraud and fake disability claims. But now your brother’s dragged me into this mess.” He tipped the chair back, then remembering his manners, let the legs drop to the floor. “They got some hard evidence on Shelby Castle. What is Tom thinking?”

  Michelle smiled and took a sip of her coffee, then shook her head. “He’s trying to save her.”

  He nodded. “Yeah…I guess I can understand why. She looks an awful lot like Brandy, doesn’t she?”

  She ignored him, looking around the room, and then her eyes returned to him. “Hey…do you still eat when you’re working a case?”

  He laughed at how she’d swiftly changed the subject. “’Course. It’s just a job. Still gotta live. I put in my hours and go home. Otherwise you’ll make yourself sick, lose your family, that kind of stuff. It’s just a job…” he trailed off, attempting to convince himself that he deserved a life—a family.

  “If I can get a sitter,” Michelle continued, “you wanna…you know…get something to eat?”

  He knew there was something he liked about this woman. “That’d be great.” He stood. “But you’re not gonna give me any idea how I can talk to Shelby?”

  “Then you’d be aiding and abetting, Jason.” She smiled up at him. “When you get evidence to clear her, I’ll give you my best guess where they are.”

  He set his mug on the table. “Saturday night? I’ll pick you up here around six.” He fished out a business card. “My cell’s on the card. Let me know if you find a sitter; I don’t have my kids this week, so I’m free.”

  He walked out the door, grinning ear to ear. Michelle was exactly the kind of woman he needed.

  Now he needed to go find Patricia Montgomery and find out how she fit in with all of this and figure out who actually killed Carlin Castle and Roger Hale.

  He planned to go with his gut this time, as he should of the last time, and his instincts told him neither Shelby nor Andy were killers, despite what the evidence claimed.

  Bearns pulled up in front of the Montgomery residence, noticing that the big red Chevy wasn’t in the driveway.

  As much as he wanted to speak to Andy, this was better. He’d have a chance to speak with Patricia alone.

  After three knocks, he saw the blinds move a fraction. It could have been a dog, but he was pretty sure it was Shelby’s mother.

  “Ms. Montgomery,” he spoke as loud as he could without attracting attention from the neighbors. The material they used to make this style of mobile home was super thin, so he knew she’d hear him. “I’m not a cop, Patricia. Tom Turner hired me to clear your daughter, and I need your help.”

  The door opened a couple of inches, but an old-fashioned brass chain dangled at his eye level. He almost laughed. What a joke. As if that tiny chain screwed into paper-thin plywood could keep anyone out. It only made the homeowner feel better, he assumed.

  “You got ID?” she asked through the crack.

  He fished out his wallet and pulled out a business card, thinking immediately about the o
ne he’d handed Michelle. He hoped she could find a babysitter. He could use a break.

  The woman closed the door completely, slid the chain aside, and then opened the door. She stepped outside, though, instead of letting him come inside, taking a seat on one of the aluminum chairs behind a white plastic table.

  He glanced around at his surroundings, then pulled a chair out, resting the back against the exterior of the trailer. He didn’t like the idea of his six being open to the entrance of the deck where anyone could walk up on him.

  “What do you want from me?” Patricia asked point-blank.

  He smiled at the attractive woman. She didn’t look forty-three. Probably because she had long hair and fair skin. Two beautiful women in one day.

  As Michelle had said earlier, wasn’t he the lucky one. Only this woman was like a mouse. Obviously, she was accustomed to someone taking care of her, since she hadn’t worked in twenty years. Not that she was living in the lap of luxury, but maybe she didn’t care.

  Bearns pulled out his notepad, but set it, along with a pen, on the table. Something about a pen and pad of paper in your hands made a person nervous. “I’m trying to clear your daughter, Patricia, and I’m fairly certain you have some information that can help me.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know anything.”

  “I’m not a cop, Ms. Montgomery, but I’m a good investigator. I have one question for you.” He paused a moment to pique her curiosity. “Does Andy know?”

  Her eyes flashed, and he knew he was right.

  The woman dropped her head, but he swore he saw her nod. She wanted to talk to him. “Does Shelby know?”

  She shook her head.

  “Do you think Andy killed Carlin?”

  Patricia’s head jolted up. “No. He hated him, all of them, but no. Andy’d never hurt anyone. He’s strong, but he’s sweet. He acts tough, but he’s not. He’s just had it hard. He had no business taking care of us. But he did. From the time he was fourteen, he wouldn’t let me take any more money.”

  Bearns nodded. That’s what he’d thought. “So…” How would he go about asking his next question? Yeah, they were in the sticks, but ewww…someone would have stopped them, he was sure. “So…Shelby doesn’t know she married her half-brother.”

  Patricia huffed out a breath. “Carlin wasn’t Clayton’s son. Clayton Castle only has two children, Andy and Shelby.”

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Clayton reclined in his leather chair as Andy paced in front of his desk. Back and forth, over and over, looking up every few seconds, but not speaking. Waiting for him to answer him, he guessed.

  “I don’t know what to do, Andy. But so far, they have nothing but circumstantial evidence.”

  “Bearns said they had somethin’. And then Shelby will suffer.”

  “Belcher said they found a long hair at Hale’s grave, but since there was no blood or skin-tissue attached, they won’t be able to verify if the strand was from you or Shelby. Something about only being able to use mtDNA, which is inherited from the mother. All siblings will have the same profile, which means they’d have a tough time making a conviction against either of you.”

  “But they still have enough circumstantial evidence to arrest her, and God knows how long before she’d be able to get out of jail this time. Don’t you think you’ve put her through enough already?” He shook his head and sniffed. “Why couldn’t you leave us alone? I know you’re the one who pointed her out to Carlin, didn’t you? What were the chances she’d take up with that loser? She was so far out of his league—”

  Clayton nodded. “It was my only chance of having a grandson, a child I could raise as my own.”

  He remembered the day he pointed out Shelby to Carlin, challenging him to get a girl as good looking as her, even gave him some tips on how to woo her. He had no idea that Carlin would turn out to be an abusive husband; he’d never laid a hand on him his entire life. He’d treated him like a son, even though he’d known he wasn’t.

  Andy harrumphed. “You had your chance.”

  “I tried, Andy. You know I tried to be a father to you. You wouldn’t let me.”

  His real son, who looked so much like him, shook his head. “I didn’t want no part-time father. I told you it was all or nothin’. But I don’t get it. Why didn’t you leave June? Momma loved you; she still loves you.”

  “I would have lost everything I’d worked for. I planned to divorce June when Patricia got pregnant with you, but your momma wouldn’t let me. She’s the one who’d told me to figure it out…that she’d wait. We thought once June’s father died, everything would go to June, and if I divorced her, I’d get half, especially since Carlin wasn’t even my son. The only reason June even married me was that her father would have cut her off if he’d found out that she’d been impregnated by the stable hand, but I’d already worked for him, so I was the perfect answer to her dilemma. It was a win for all of us, as we were all doing it for the money, including your mother.” He dropped his head in his hands. “But that old S.O.B. put everything in Carlin’s name. Thankfully, Carlin couldn’t run or touch anything until he was twenty-five, which would have been this year; otherwise, he’d have run the company into the ground.”

  “So back to my first question, Clayton.” Andy stopped pacing and leaned over the desk. “How do we fix this? Shelby’s innocent, but she’s gonna be the one takin’ the fall.”

  Clayton snorted. “Shelby may not have pulled the trigger on Hale, but I’m pretty sure she’s the reason Carlin is dead. Ain’t one of us innocent. So we’ll just have to wait and see what the police can prove before we go and do anything stupid.”

  His son turned and walked for the door.

  “Andy, you need to keep your cool. I know you have it in you, son. Keep your head on straight a little while longer.”

  Andy turned and glared at him, but kept his hand on the knob. “No one tells me what to do. And I ain’t your son. Blood don’t mean nothin’. Only actions count. And your actions make me sick.”

  He walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

  Clayton dropped his head to his desk. At least Shelby and Justin were safe for now. He’d hoped she’d run when she went to her car, and he had a pretty good idea she’d run to Tom. Tom was a good guy; he’d take care of both of his babies.

  Now he just had to find out how Carlin really died; he still hadn’t figured that out yet.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Tom carried Justin into the cabin. The little boy’s head was nestled against his chest and he’d laced his arms around his neck.

  They’d had a fantastic time on their hike. Justin had stopped every few feet to pick up a leaf, a stick, a flower, or even a rock and then handed it to either Shelby or him.

  Of course, every time they made it to an overlook, Shelby insisted they pick him up. She’d been okay, allowing him to run his fill on the trail, but the moment the trail opened to reveal even the slightest of drops, she’d insisted that one of them hold Justin, against his better wishes. He’d just wanted to run, and it made Tom wonder how often he got to play outdoors.

  He couldn’t wait until everything cleared up and they could all go as a family, along with Samantha, to a park every weekend. He laughed. Well, maybe they’d be going during the week since he’d probably be whitewater guiding again on the weekends. Somehow, the fact that he’d thrown seven years of college down the drain didn’t bother him. He still had his graduate degree; he’d think of something that he wanted to do besides kayaking. He didn’t want to be a fifty-year-old whitewater guide either. He’d rather keep it as a part-time job, so he’d always love it.

  He lowered Justin into his crib with Shelby watching, then motioned her out of the room, closing the door behind them.

  “Hey,” he whispered as they stepped into the hallway. “You don’t think I’m capable of putting him to bed for a nap?”

  She shrugged. “Sorry. Habit, I guess. I’m not used to anyone helping out.”


  “Well, get used to it.” He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her against his body, turning her so that her body was against the wall. “Umm…I think you were going to show me how much you missed me…” He kissed her long and deep and then pulled back, sighing. “How about…” he pecked her on the right side of her face, close to her ear, “you go upstairs and do whatever you have to do to feel special.” He kissed the left side of her face. “And I’ll take a quick shower downstairs to wash off all this dust,” he kissed her on the forehead, “and meet you upstairs in ten minutes.”

  She smiled. “That sounds like a wonderful plan. Make it eight minutes.”

  Tom peeked at his watch. “Eight, it is.” He grabbed her and kissed those soft lips, then pushed her away, patting her behind. “Seven fifty-five.”

  Shelby giggled and ran off, removing articles of clothes as she ran. As much as he wanted to chase her, he’d feel better, and he knew she would too if he smelled better than a man who’d just been hiking.

  It took him less than three minutes to shower, three minutes to throw the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, so he spent the remaining minute standing at the bottom of the stairs covered only by a towel.

  At exactly eight minutes, he ascended the stairs as slowly as his body would allow, his heart thumping as if he’d run five miles on his treadmill.

  His wife wasn’t in the bed as he’d hoped. He knocked on the bathroom door. “Should I go outside and chop some wood?”

  “Nope. You should come in here,” she called from behind the door.

  Tom opened the door and peeked in. “Nice. Now why didn’t I think of that? I was thinking good old-fashioned sex.”

  She laughed. “Because you’re a man.”

  Letting his towel drop, he stepped into the Jacuzzi tub.

  “You have no shame, do you?” she asked, giggling and gathering the bubbles over her body like a blanket.

  “Should I?”

  “No. Definitely nothing to be ashamed of with a body like yours, Tom Turner.”