by Reid, Penny
We’d just finished eating sandwiches prepared by Beau, my phone sat in the center of the table, and we were gathered around it as Jenn’s cell continued to feed us audio. But neither she nor Elena Wilkinson had spoken for the last several minutes.
After following Jenn and Kip into downtown Green Valley earlier, we’d parked at the Chamber of Commerce during her meeting with all the bakers, all of us listening on the secure website Alex had arranged. Hearing those reprobates—except Ms. Ortiz, she was a nice lady—speak about Jenn as though she weren’t in the room, discuss exploiting her, using her, had me adding several more names to my to maim list, and I prayed Jenn would allow me more than one revenge indulgence a year.
I needed at least ten, seven at an absolute minimum.
Then, when it became clear Kip intended to drive her right back home after, we headed to Beau and Shelly’s house on Bandit Lake. Jenn’s place was less than a mile away.
“Tricia’s hands are covered in feathers, if you catch my meaning.” Beau picked up my plate and stacked his on top of it. “She killed those chickens, and Deb helped.”
“Agree,” Shelly said again. “So who hit Diane over the head?”
“It wasn’t Roger,” Billy chimed in, wiping his hands on a napkin. “Roger’s a big guy, he would’ve carried her, not dragged her. Besides, he doesn’t have it out for Diane, not like Kip.”
“Kip would have just carried her too,” I said. “Diane Donner weighs no more than a hundred pounds.”
“So that leaves Posey, Josephina, Hamell, Tricia, and Deb.” Beau ticked off all the bakers on his fingertips.
I shook my head. “You’re missing someone.”
“Who?” Beau’s eyebrows pulled together in question.
“Elena.”
Shelly and Beau traded a look, which they then traded with Billy, but Billy was the first to speak. “Elena Wilkinson. You think that tiny, timid woman did it?”
“Tiny, timid people are capable of malevolent acts just as much as big, bold folks. Look at Kanye West and Napoleon.”
Before anyone could respond, Jenn’s voice came back over the feed. “There. That’s how you fry broccoli without using any fat. White wine, garlic, and butter powder.”
“Now that sounds like a crime,” Beau whispered, pulling a face. “If you don’t use fat, it ain’t frying.”
“Kip Sylvester is into clean eating,” I said, motioning for Beau to hush, but then leaned close to him and added, “And I agree. That’s a felony against the broccoli. White wine is basically salad dressing with less salt.”
Billy nodded, and thus the matter was settled, but Elena was talking again. “Your daddy said your momma tried to make this dish, but it never turned out as good as when you made it.”
“Did he?” Jenn asked, and I applauded her ability to deflect, to talk without saying anything at all. I’m so proud.
“He did. I’m glad you cooked for him, otherwise I don’t know how he would’ve survived all those years with her. Oh—wait, that’s my phone, I think. Let me just get that.”
Beau’s lip curled and he turned an irritated glare to Shelly. “This woman sounds like a brainwashed loony.”
“Yep,” the taciturn mechanic agreed immediately.
“You should’ve heard the shit Kip said this morning when he showed up.” Billy—whether consciously or not—balled his right hand into a fist. “Made me want to punch him in the face.”
“Maybe later, it’s still early,” I said, biting and chewing on my bottom lip. “Everyone quiet, Elena’s talking to someone on her phone.”
“ . . . slow down. I can’t understand you. Why would the police be at your house?”
We all stiffened in unison, leaning forward, straining toward the phone.
“Oh no,” Elena said, sounding truly fretful. “Okay. Okay—just meet us at our place. We’ll figure something out. Can’t you just say you bought them? Say, uh, it was a lie?”
“Bought what?” Billy mouthed, looking to me.
I ignored him, struggling to hear.
“It’ll be fine, Tricia.” Elena’s voice seemed to grow harder, like she was angry. “We’ll figure something out and Kip will take care of it, I’m sure.”
Police. Tricia.
“The chickens!” I jabbed a finger into the air. “Someone call Boone. Ask him where he is.”
Beau extracted his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and stood, walking from the kitchen.
“Is everything okay?” Jenn asked, just the right mixture of concerned and curious. I’m so proud.
“Everything is just fine,” Elena said, her voice too bright. “It’s all a misunderstanding, I’m sure. Listen, I’m going to have to steal your daddy. Do you mind packing up the lunch? We’ll take it on the . . .”
Her voice grew muffled, too far away for us to hear.
But it didn’t matter. Jenn’s plan had been a success. I’d bet my banjo Boone found Badcock’s remaining twenty-one chickens on Tricia Wilkinson’s porch along with the broomstick used to whack Diane Donner over the head. Of course, we’d claim Jenn had recorded the conversation all on her own. With the recording of the meeting providing motive and Jenn’s conversation with Elena afterward describing means, Boone would have everything he needed to press charges against Tricia Wilkinson.
And now, hopefully, with the farm mayhem reign of terror over and the resulting justice for chickens, bees, and Diane’s head, Jenn and I could finally return to a harmonious—and as of yet elusive—state of bliss.
That is to say, naked.
“Cletus.”
Alone.
“Cletus.”
Together.
“Cletus!”
“What?!”
Billy gestured to the screen of my phone, standing, and said harshly, “Did you hear that?”
“What?”
“Jenn. She just said the phrase. The emergency phrase, ‘Goodness, where has the time gone?’”
Shaking myself, I also stood, staring at the phone intently. Jenn spoke, but it was hard to hear what she said, and then finally, “—back in time for Billy? I don’t want to miss our date.”
I snatched the phone off the table, pointing at Shelly. “You and me. Take the GTO.”
She nodded and turned to Beau. He must’ve heard because in the next moment he’d tossed his keys and Shelly caught them with one hand.
“That’s to be determined, isn’t it?” Kip said, his voice harsh. “Give me that phone.”
“We’ll follow in the Bronco,” Billy said unnecessarily, hot on my heels as Shelly and I ran out the front door.
“I can’t wait to hear your perfectly good explanation—” Elena’s sarcastic voice was cut off by a scuffing sound, presumably Kip taking the phone from Jenn.
“We’ll see about that,” came his muffled reply just as Shelly and I slid into Beau’s car.
“Put on your seatbelt, Cletus.” Shelly sounded as cool as the underside of a pillow, buckling hers and bringing the muscle car to life.
“That hurts! Elena, let me go,” Jenn said, her voice distant but perfectly clear, and my heart went wild.
“You called the police? You betrayed my sister!” Elena screamed, the wail enraged.
“Go, Shelly. Go!” Damn.
GODDAMMIT.
Shelly peeled out of the drive, working the clutch and gearshift like they were an extension of her body, and we were on our way. We’d be there in less than two minutes.
Less than a mile away.
We listened as an argument ensued, raised voices but none of the words were audible. There seemed to be a struggle of some sort, Kip cursed, Jenn screamed, and I leaned forward in the passenger seat, covering my face and grabbing fistfuls of my hair.
“If he hurts her—”
“I’ll kill him,” Shelly said.
I peeked at the typically imperturbable woman, the slight narrowing of her hawkish eyes, and knew she would.
But not if I killed him first.
; Finally, less than ninety seconds after leaving the Bandit Lake house, Shelly spun a quarter donut at the end of Jenn’s driveway, placing the GTO directly in front of Kip Sylvester’s car. The spin sprayed dirt and red clay and a fair bit of rock debris all over the shiny black hood of his BMW.
“Hey you!” A man shouted—Kip—running off Jenn’s porch, face red and pointing at Shelly. “Dumb bitch!”
Shelly didn’t bother cutting the GTO’s engine, instead pushing the driver’s door open, jumping out, and running over to where Kip stood screaming his head off.
“I just paid a fortune for detailing and—”
Her strong hand closed around his throat and she shoved him back, deftly hooking a foot behind his leg such that he stumbled, tripped, and fell hard on his ass.
A moment later, one of her boots on his wrist, the other next to his face, she glared down at his stunned features. “You. Stay down or I’ll break your jaw.”
“You can’t threaten me,” Kip snarled.
She put more weight on his wrist, and he yelped.
“Shut the fuck up, or get fucked up, asshole,” came her monotone response, her face placid as the surface of a lake.
If the situation had been different, I think I would’ve been content to pull up a lawn chair and watch the imposingly tall, fiercely beautiful woman intimidate the hell out of Kip Sylvester all day long. But as it was, seeing Jenn and needing proof of her safety were the only thoughts in my head.
Running up the porch steps and ignoring Elena Wilkinson where she gripped the railing, gaping at me with horror-stricken eyes, I marched to the front door and pounded. “Jenn? Are you there?”
The door swung open, and in the next second she’d launched herself at me, her arms coming around my neck. “Cletus. Oh, Cletus,” she cried. Or, apparently, she continued her crying. Her wet face pressed against my cheek and jaw. “I’m so glad you’re here. He—he—”
“Shh.” I smoothed my hands down her back, holding her close. She was shaking, hard. “Honey, are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
“Call off your bitch, Cletus Winston, or I’ll—” Kip didn’t get another word out because Shelly kicked him in the face with her steel-toed boot.
“I said shut the fuck up, or get fucked up, asshole. Follow directions or more boot.”
“He hit me.” Jenn’s words were muffled, but they sent an electric shock of pure, white-hot rage through my entire body.
As gently as I could manage—especially now that my hands were shaking—I palmed her cheeks and eased her back, gritting my teeth at the sight of her bloody nose, split lip, and swelling eye.
“I’ll kill him,” I said and thought, the words a promise to myself.
Elena made a sound of distress and I heard her approach at the moment I perceived another car pull up the driveway.
“She betrayed him! She let him think she was on his side, he was angry. What else was he supposed to do? She betrayed my sister—she called the cops, told them lies, set her up. Tricia was right, you’re a spoiled brat, just like your momma. Jennifer deserved all she got and more.”
Turning slowly, I looked at the woman, allowing her to witness the power, passion, and promise of my wrath. I memorized the dawning comprehension and fear spreading over her features like the rising waters of a tsunami.
The darkness within me enjoyed how she shrank back and stumbled down the stairs. “You’re crazy,” she whispered, breathless.
“You bet I am,” I said, then smiled.
Car doors closing had me shifting my attention to the newly arrived Billy and Beau exiting the Bronco and taking a survey of the situation.
“Hey, sugar plumb,” Beau said, winked at Shelly, grinned, and walked slowly toward her. “What do you have there?”
“The little pig.”
“You mean the one that goes wee, wee, wee all the way home?”
“The very one.”
Billy, meanwhile, was staring at Jenn, a storm gathering behind his blue eyes. I knew that look, but he’d have to get in line behind me and Shelly. It’s a shame a person can only be murdered once.
Shifting my attention to Kip, still writhing on the ground beneath Shelly’s boot, I kept hold of Jenn’s hand and caught Shelly’s eye. “Give Jenn’s phone to Ms. Sullivan and she’ll let you stand up.”
Shelly nodded, then released Kip’s wrist, backing up and allowing him to stand. The older man, breathing hard, struggled to his feet and gripped his jaw. He pulled the phone from his pocket and dropped it to the ground as though it burned him.
As soon as he was up, he faced us, but his ire focused squarely on his daughter.
“You’re dead to me,” he spat. “You hear me? Dead.”
I stepped in front of Jenn, blocking her from view.
But it was Billy who, with an amused lilt to his voice, said, “That’s okay, Kip. ’Cause soon you’ll be dead to everybody.”
Looking between us, Kip worked real hard to hide the flicker of fear fracturing his show of outrage, puffing out his chest. “You sneaky bastard.” He pointed at me this time. “You did this. You turned my daughter against me! You took a good girl and ruined her. I’ll make you pay. I’ll—”
Shelly lunged forward an inch, a fake-out move, but it was enough to make Kip shrink back and almost trip over his own feet. It also made Beau laugh.
Kip’s frantic stare on the menacing woman, he ran backward, now pointing at her. “I’m pressing charges and you’re going to jail.”
“For what, exactly? Stopping my attacker?” Jenn stepped around me, shouting, more enraged than I’d ever heard her as she gestured to the ceiling of the porch. “I have video cameras up here—you sad, pathetic, little pig of a man—and they recorded the whole thing! You think I won’t press charges?”
Kip opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, real panic undermining his attempt at a scowl. “Jennifer Anne Sylvester, we’ll talk about it later.”
“No we won’t, because I ain’t visiting you in jail. Now get off my property and enjoy your last night of freedom. And enjoy that prison food! I hear they use lard and butter.”
* * *
“I’ll send the pictures, but I wanted to prepare you before I did. Cletus will send the video this evening via email. It’s cut and dried, he attacked his daughter, threatened her, we all heard it. Mm-hmm.” Billy’s deep voice filtered into Jenn’s family room from the kitchen, all business. “I suggest Judge Kelly, you won’t have a problem securing a warrant with him.”
I thanked heaven for his cool head.
As soon as Kip and Elena left, Billy ushered us all inside, giving everyone orders for what to do next. I helped Jenn. Beau pulled the surveillance digital files. Shelly prepared and brought over several ice packs while Jenn, once we were all gathered and sitting, curled up on my lap, told us her version of events.
Basically, Tricia had called Elena while Jenn was preparing lunch and demanded to speak with Kip. A moment later, Kip had come into the kitchen, grabbed Jenn around the back of the neck, and pushed her toward the front door, threatening her.
“How did they know you were the one to call Boone about the chickens?” I asked.
“I have no idea. I didn’t hear what Tricia said, just Elena and my father’s reaction to it. But once we made it to the porch, I realized I couldn’t let them take me.” Jenn’s hollow tone sent a knife straight to my heart. “Elena was pulling on my arms, screaming at me for betraying her sister, telling me I would pay for it. I fought them, knowing if I could just get back inside, I could run to the panic room. Then my father, he—” Her face crumpled.
I wanted to turn away. The tempest of emotion, witnessing her in pain, watching her hurt, suffocated me. The lack of retaliatory action available in the moment felt unnatural, wrong. He’d put his hands on her, and therefore he should suffer at my hands until he felt and understood the foolishness and imprudence of his choices.
Nevertheless, I stayed put and I forced myself to watch Jennifer in pain. She was so
beautiful, my Jenn, with bruises and cuts and blood on her face. She would always be beautiful because her beauty was in her strength and resilience, her goodness and generosity, her cleverness and compassion, and no one—least of all her rat of a father—could ever steal or change who she was.
“You don’t have to tell us what happened, Jenn,” Beau said, sitting on the edge of a big recliner, his tone gentle. “If someone needs to know, they can watch the video. There is no reason to relive it, unless you wish to.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Even though she’d whispered the word, her voice cracked.
“I’m sorry to ask this, Jenn. But we need to take pictures of your face and any other—uh—injuries.” The deepness of Billy’s baritone belied just how uncomfortable the request made him. “The existence of the video means you won’t have to recount how it happened, but the pictures will keep you from having to describe the extent of your injuries during trial.”
“Assuming he doesn’t plead guilty in exchange for a lighter sentence,” Shelly mumbled grumpily.
“Oh, that road won’t be available to him,” Billy said with the barest hint of glee. “I’ll see to that.”
It was then decided that Billy would call the sheriff directly while Shelly took the pictures, which brings us to now.
Presently, Beau reviewed the video for a third time while I paced the living room floor. Shelly was taking the pictures, helping Jenn clean up and change, and Billy continued his conversation with Sheriff James in the kitchen.
Billy and I shared a brief, commiserating smile, and he continued his conversation with the sheriff. “In addition to the warrant, I want a restraining order against Elena Wilkinson, Patricia Wilkinson, and a few other names I’ll be sending through in an email tomorrow. They’re all connected to the attack.”
“Hey, Cletus.” Beau pulled off the headphones connected to the laptop where the video played, motioning me over. “You need to hear this.”
“I don’t want to see it.” Seeing it once had been enough. Again, it’s a shame a person can only be murdered once.
“Then listen.” He held the headphones up.
I shook my head. “Just tell me.”