Better Than This: A Nine Minutes Spin-Off Novel

by Beth Flynn

  Jake’s voice resonated through the speaker, “Hey, baby, what’s up?”

  “Can you get off work and come over?”

  “What’s wrong, Barbie? Are you okay?” I could hear the panic in his voice and could’ve kicked myself for alluding to an emergency.

  “No. I’m fine. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that Henry brought me a bone.”

  The relief in his voice was evident as he replied with a chuckle, “Isn’t that what dogs do? Dig up their bones and rebury them? Or in Henry’s case, give them as presents?”

  There was a long pause filled with background noise at Hampton House. “It’s not one of Henry’s bones, Jake. It’s a human femur.”

  Chapter 38

  Where All The Excitement Happens

  Jake asked me not to call the police until he got home and we determined where Henry found the bone. Less than an hour later we found ourselves hiking on the back side of Jake’s property where Henry led us to a small clearing in the woods. We could see where he’d started digging, a shredded piece of faded green fabric peeked up from the disturbed earth.

  Jake bent down and gently started clearing away the soil, which revealed another bone. “This is a grave, Barbie. I’m not sure if there’s a whole body under here or how long it’s been buried.”

  “If the rest of the body belongs to that femur,” I motioned to the bone Jake had left on the ground, “it’s been here a long time. I’m not a forensic anthropologist, but I do know this person didn’t die recently.”

  Since the grave was found on Jake’s property, we returned to his house and contacted the Pickens County Sheriff’s Office. We led the county sheriff, Darlene’s daughter, Danielle, and a couple of other deputies along with a forensics unit back to the secret grave. They worked all evening and into the night setting up spotlights, and meticulously sifting through dirt. By dawn, they’d recovered a female human skeleton buried with her personal belongings. The most curious find was an empty suitcase. It was almost as if the person who’d buried her had thrown all of her clothes into the grave, placed her on top of them, and threw the suitcase in as an afterthought. It wasn’t a cavernous grave, but deep enough that it had kept the forest critters away. She would have probably continued to remain undisturbed if it weren’t for Henry.

  Scratching his jaw, the sheriff who grew up in Pumpkin Rest before moving to its sister county, commented in a slow Southern drawl, “I was a teenager when it was rumored that Mrs. Pritchard ran off.” He placed his hands on his hips and peered at the lonely remains. “I think we might be able to put that rumor to rest.”

  The state medical examiner would order an autopsy and a DNA test to compare with Jonathan’s, but the informal exhumation indicated it was Mrs. Pritchard since her purse and identification were buried with her body. And the damage to the back of her skull was a clear indication that she’d most likely died from blunt force trauma which could only have been inflicted by her husband.

  The sad news spread quickly and there was a deep sense of mourning among the local town folk who remembered Missy Pritchard. A quiet and kind woman who moved here from the Midwest when she was a girl, Missy and her parents had been welcomed into the small community and even more so when she married into a local family. Her parents both died within months of each other the year before she had Kenny.

  Other than Jonathan, the sheriff’s office didn’t know of any next of kin to notify. I told them that Kenny had mentioned his mother having an aunt in the letter he’d left me, but other than that, I had nothing else to offer. They did a quick search of the police department records that would’ve covered Pumpkin Rest back in the early seventies when Missy had left town. It took less than twenty minutes for them to retrieve the paperwork and determine that a wellness check had been requested over four decades ago by a woman claiming to be Missy’s aunt.

  The sheriff stood in my living room the following day, faded manila folder in hand. I’d just let him read the note from Kenny to which he responded, “You’re right. It’s vague. It could’ve had to do with his mother’s murder, but we’ll never know.”

  I shook my head. “I never even knew that he had an aunt until he left me the note saying he was leaving to find her.”

  He lazily chewed on a toothpick and opened the folder he was carrying. “Says here the aunt, Esther Agnis, called and asked the law back then to check on her niece. She claimed they exchanged letters occasionally and the aunt hadn’t received one in a while. The Pritchards didn’t have a phone so she couldn’t call to check on her.”

  His eyes left the page long enough to meet mine and quickly returned to scan the decades-old paperwork. “And that lying SOB told them Missy ran off. Says here they verified her belongings were gone and closed the inquiry.” He slapped the file shut in an angry huff. “We tried calling the number Miss Agnis left back in 1974, but to no one’s surprise, it’s been disconnected. And a quick internet search for the woman has come up blank. It appears that Jonathan is her only living relative.” Politely raising his hand to his hat, he tipped it toward me and said, “Thanks for your time, Dr. Anderson.”

  Darlene was the first to offer her family’s private cemetery as Missy Pritchard’s final resting place, and a memorial service would be held as soon as the state was finished examining her remains.

  I had spiraled downward into a mire of melancholy for days after the discovery, my heart not only mourning for the woman I’d never met, but even more so for Kenny and Jonathan. Jonathan was only three when she’d disappeared so he probably didn’t have many, if any, memories of her. Especially since nothing had been left for him to remember her by. Not even a photograph. But I knew Kenny had always remained hopeful that she would return. It caused an ache in my chest to know that she’d never left them, and had suffered a terrible fate at the hands of her husband.

  Jake, who’d been extremely supportive of my grief, showed up on my doorstep one afternoon and insisted on taking me to his place. I didn’t know what he had planned, but I reluctantly allowed him to drive me over. Up until this point, I hadn’t left the house, not even to go to work. We walked back to the spot where Mrs. Pritchard’s remains were found and I stopped short. I stifled a sob as I stared at the spot where Missy and all her worldly possessions had been so disrespectfully dumped. Jake had been given permission to remove the crime scene tape, and after carefully clearing the area surrounding the grave, he’d created a memorial garden.

  I stared in wide-eyed wonder at the stones that outlined the makeshift burial site. They were similar to the ones that he’d used to make a path to his front door. I also noticed a bird bath and a bright garden flag off to the right. I smiled knowing they must’ve come from his last flea market excursion that I’d missed.

  “I can’t put in all the plants I want to until the weather gets warmer, but I have plans to fill this whole area, including her original resting place, with as much color as possible.”

  “Oh, Jake,” I cried. “It’s beautiful. You didn’t even know her and you’ve created such a lovely spot in her memory. I can’t imagine when you were able to do this in such a short amount of time.”

  “I ordered a bench too,” he added. “It’ll be perfect over there.” He pointed to a large tree that would blossom come spring. “I’m having something etched on the bench, Barbie.”

  “What’s it going to say?”

  His voice sounded hoarse when he said, “In loving memory of Melissa Kay Pritchard. Cherished and beloved mother of Kenny and Jonathan.” His eyes started to mist, as he recovered his voice and added, “And it’ll have her birthday and the year of her death. Which is obviously the year she disappeared.”

  I reached for him, wrapping my arms tightly around his back. I buried my nose in his chest and inhaled his scent. Then something occurred to me. I pulled back abruptly and looked up into his face. His eyes were no longer misty but sharp and intent.

  “How do you know Melissa Pritchard’s birthday?” My voice held a note of ske
pticism I hadn’t intended. “Or her middle name?” I didn’t even know her middle name.

  He frowned at me in a way that said I should already know the answer. “I asked Darlene’s daughter. It was on the driver’s license they found in her purse.”

  “Of course it was,” I said with a laugh. “I should’ve guessed that.”

  Two nights later, Jake and I were on our way to The Lonesome Keg. His favorite country artist was playing and he didn’t want to miss him despite my concerns about running into the two bikers he’d knocked out.

  “Stop worrying, sweetheart,” he said as he brushed off my apprehension and pulled me toward him. One of the benefits of his old truck was that it didn’t have a console separating us. After snapping the lap belt around my lower abdomen, I pressed myself against him and appreciated the weight of his muscular arm lying heavy across my shoulders. “Besides,” he’d told me while planting a kiss on my forehead, “you need to get out of your slump. It’ll do both of us some good to get back to normal.”

  I thought he would find it amusing when I told him about the offer to return to my old job and be the star of a hospital reality series based on my reputation as a monster in the medical field. I detected a change in his demeanor, and when I looked up at his face, I thought I noticed a slight tightening of his jaw. I watched him swallow before asking, “Are you considering it?” I pulled back and he peered over at me before returning his eyes to the road. “Well, are you?” I couldn’t tell if he was worried or agitated.

  “Not even a little,” I laughed.

  He tugged me closer and whispered against my temple, “I’m glad.”

  Jake slowed down as we spotted an older gentleman wrestling a tire out of the trunk of his car that was parked on the shoulder of the road. His wife stood off to the side, her lined face compressed with worry. After passing them, Jake pulled over and put the truck in park. I didn’t have to ask to know that Jake would insist on helping. I followed him and engaged the man’s wife in conversation while Jake made quick work of getting the tire changed and returning the jack and flat to their trunk.

  Once we were back on the road, it sparked a conversation about getting older. I told him about Fancy’s comment to me the first and only time she’d come to the farmhouse to inquire about our father’s coin collection.

  “I never thought about it like that, but yeah, I guess we are approaching the fourth quarter.” He laughed. “I’m even closer to it than you are, Barbie.”

  “Doesn’t it bother you?” I wanted to know. It certainly had gotten under my skin. Or maybe it wasn’t the comment so much as that it came from Fancy.

  “Of course it doesn’t bother me.” He sounded happy as he tapped out an imaginary tune on the steering wheel with his left hand.

  I fidgeted in my seat and reached for the radio dial. “Why not?”

  “I’ve never been a big fan of football, but even I know the fourth quarter is where all the excitement happens.”

  We arrived at The Lonesome Keg and Jake parked in the same spot as before.

  “Please tell me you’re not anticipating a quick getaway this time,” I begged half-heartedly.

  He got out and came around to open my door. “I’m always prepared for a quick getaway, beautiful. But don’t worry. Tonight will be fine.”

  I was surprised to see that Jake had called ahead and asked Mike to reserve the booth we’d shared the night of the fight.

  “I didn’t know The Lonesome Keg took reservations,” I teased.

  “They don’t,” he said as he ushered me into our booth and sat next to me so we could both face the stage.

  We enjoyed a night of Dr. Pepper and an array of appetizers that was highlighted with live country music served up by Jake’s favorite artist, Jay Drummonds. Though neither one of us were especially skilled in the dancing department, we braved the dance floor for a few of the slower tunes. And as the evening wound down, I couldn’t help but smile at the grin that broke out on Jake’s face when Mike introduced us to Jay during the break before his last set.

  Jay had saved what I now considered our song— “Better Than This”—for this last set. I was happily drowning in the melody and lyrics when I detected a subtle mood change in the crowd. I looked to my left and couldn’t stop the “Oh no!” that escaped my lips. “Jake…”

  “I see them, Barbie. It’s fine.”

  And to my complete and utter surprise, it was. The two rough-looking bikers who’d engaged Jake in a physical altercation mere months ago were politely paying their respects to us before setting up camp by the bar.

  Was I in an alternate universe? What had just happened? I caught sight of Mike who was stationed across the room in his wheelchair. He’d watched and gave Jake a brisk nod before returning his attention back to the stage.

  And just like that, I felt a shift in my universe as the last piece of the puzzle finally found its place and Jake’s secret was secret no more. I could’ve been upset. Maybe I should’ve been, but I wasn’t. And there was only one explanation for it. I was completely, hopelessly, and irreversibly in love with Jake Chambers.

  I wouldn’t ask him because I knew he would tell me when he was ready. And there was nothing like the sense of relief in knowing that when he did find the courage to fess up, it wouldn’t be a game changer.

  The next morning I met Darlene for breakfast before her shift at the gas station and told her my theory. Before she could comment, I asked, “How long have you known?”

  She pierced a piece of country ham with her fork, and before bringing it to her mouth, confessed, “The morning I showed up at your house after you sewed him up. It was something he said at the breakfast table.”

  “Your tiddlywink moment?” I asked.

  She nodded as she chewed. After washing her food down with a healthy swig of coffee, she asked, “Are you going to ask me what I know?”

  “Nope,” I assured her. “I’ll wait for him to tell me.”

  “Good.” She picked up and began to fumble with a jelly packet. “Because I don’t like gossip and I already told you at Christmas you should ask him. Plus, I promised him I wouldn’t tell you as long as he told you himself. I was about ready to give up on him but seeing how he’s so in love with you”—she paused long enough to give me a dramatic stare—“and you’re in love with him, I didn’t want to interfere.”

  I grabbed the jelly packet out of her hand and easily pulled the plastic off. I handed it back to her. “I wonder how much Sheila knows,” I pondered.

  “You can always ask her.” She spread her toast with grape jelly. “And you’re not denying you’re in love with him? Not going to accuse me of starting a rumor?” The sides of her mouth tugged upward in a mischievous grin.

  “To quote the man I’m in love with, ‘it’s not a rumor if it’s true.’”

  Chapter 39

  What You See Is What You Get

  Jake and Henry showed up at my front door the next morning. Henry rushed past me to seek out Lady who was in his favorite spot chewing on a toy in the kitchen.

  I was still in my pajamas, my hair was a mess and I had coffee breath. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this early morning visit?”

  He planted a kiss on my lips before I could object. He held up a hammer with one hand. “I wanted to hang that picture in your bedroom before I left for Cleveland.” He held up a neatly wrapped gift with his other hand. “And give you this since I won’t be here for your birthday. I’m so sorry, Barbie. When I told the Leavitts I’d drive them to Cleveland for their family reunion, I didn’t know it would end up being on your birthday.”

  Closing the door behind him, I took the present and held it up to my nose. “Smells yummy. Like bath bombs for my new tub,” I guessed.

  He laughed and said, “You can open it now, or on your birthday…”

  “Or when you get back,” I interrupted.

  “Yeah,” he said with a grin. “I was hoping you’d say that. We can go out and celebrate. I only brought it ove
r this morning because I didn’t want you to think I forgot. I’m leaving tomorrow afternoon but should be back sometime on Friday. Do you want to drive down to Greenville? Or maybe up to Asheville? To a high-end, upscale restaurant? I clean up real nice when I want to. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, sweetheart.”

  I set the gift on the mantel over the fireplace, and forgetting my coffee breath, leaned against him and looked up. “Greenville or Asheville? Like for the weekend?”

  He kissed me on the lips, and ignoring my question, said, “I keep forgetting to hang that picture for you, but I can do it now before I go to work.” He held up the hammer, smiled, and headed for the stairs.

  I stood with my hands on my hips, watching him take two stairs at a time. “My coffee breath must be worse than I thought,” I muttered to myself before following him. When I arrived at my bedroom door, I found Jake standing in the middle of my room, hammer in one hand and glaring. He pointed to my nightstand and said, “What is that?”

  Puzzled, I looked past him and answered matter-of-factly, “My gun.”

  “What is it doing on your nightstand, Barbie?”

  “I have it there in case I need it in the middle of the night. I thought you wanted me to protect myself.”

  I watched him take a deep breath, like I was trying his patience. “Honey, do you realize that if an intruder made it up the stairs without you hearing him, he could get to that gun before you? Someone could use it on you.” Before I could answer him, he continued, “Or, if someone were to break into your house while you’re not here, it’d be the first thing they’d steal.”

  “Oh, right,” I agreed. Swiping my hand through my unruly morning locks, I admitted, “You’re right. I should’ve put it in the nightstand.”

  “No!” he practically shouted. “I thought I told you to keep it attached to the back of your headboard. I even put the Velcro back there for you. This way you can easily reach behind you in a dark room without fumbling through a nightstand. Which would be the second place a thief would look. We went over this, Barbie.”