Wink of an Eye
Page 26
I turned the van around and never looked back.
CHAPTER 29
I blinked away the sweat rolling in my eyes. I used the tail of my T-shirt to wipe the dampness from my face. The shirt was covered in dirt; I wondered if I looked like I was using one of those mud facials.
“Why the hell am I doing this?” I looked at Tatum and tossed him the shovel. “They’re your shrubs.”
From the back deck, Burke laughed out loud. “Was wondering how long it was going to take you to figure that one out.”
I ruffled Tatum’s hair as I headed up the deck steps. “Yeah, I noticed he likes to supervise.”
I had paid to have the tree taken down where Ryce was killed and threw some cash at the landscape company for some drought-resistant shrubs to plant in its place. Obviously I didn’t pay them enough because up until a moment ago when I handed Tatum the shovel, I had done all the planting.
I went inside and grabbed a beer from the fridge, then rejoined Burke on the deck.
It had been a month since Denny killed himself and life went on. Ramirez was heading up a task force charged with finding the missing girls and asked me to help. I hadn’t said yes, but I hadn’t said no yet, either. Even if I couldn’t bring her sister home, I wanted Alvedia Esconderia to be able to grow up unafraid. Claire rolled on Mark Peterson like I knew she would and was awaiting sentencing. Her husband’s political clout took a nosedive and couldn’t save her from pulling time. Her daddy’s money was long gone as the ranch had been in financial trouble for years. It still didn’t justify what she did. My stomach churned with disgust knowing she sold those girls like cattle to Mark Peterson. I still didn’t know what scared me more—knowing I would have helped her out of the whole mess or knowing she had tried to kill me for a tape she thought I had.
But I was finally beginning to sleep again, unafraid to close my eyes because she no longer haunted my dreams. Whether she drowned in the bottom of the great Wink sinkhole or in the bottom of a bottle of Johnnie Walker, I don’t know. All I knew was she was no longer a part of my life, or my memories.
I pulled up one of the deck chairs, then propped my feet up on the railing.
“Are you actually wearing boots?” Burke raised a brow as he stared at my feet.
“They’re hiking boots.”
“Uh-huh.”
We watched Tatum stomping on the shovel, giving it all he had. “When he gets about twenty more pounds on him, he’ll be all right,” I said.
Burke shook his head and laughed. “If he gains only twenty pounds, someone’s going to have to teach him how to fight.” He looked at me.
I took a swig of beer. “He actually did pretty good against Peterson until the gun came out.”
“Trumps a fist every time.”
I laughed. “You got that right, ol’ man.”
I watched the kid dig, stomp, dig, stomp, dig, stomp, complaining the whole time about how freakin’ hot it was. The smile flittered across my lips so naturally, I was barely aware I was smiling. He reminded me so much of myself at that age. So scrawny a good gust of wind could move you. You made up for it by pretending you were ten feet tall and bulletproof.
I never had anyone teach me how to fight, either. There were days I missed my father probably as much as Tatum missed Ryce. I often wondered if my old man ever loved my mother. If she haunted his dreams, his memories. The flashing pictures in my mind that I could remember told me he did. I remember flowers from the florist, I remember Valentine’s candy, Saturday-night dates when Gram would come stay with me and Rhonda.
He used to have this old truck he was restoring that he kept parked behind the house. He’d work on it a little, then we’d take off on a ride. Just me and him. We’d hit every back road in Winkler County, the dirt floating in through the open windows. I can still feel the grit on my face. I can still hear the static coming through the AM radio. When we were far enough away from anything or anyone, he’d pull over and let me drive. I’d scoot to the edge of the seat and stretch my legs out as far as they would go and still struggle to reach the pedals. We’d drive out to the canyons and shoot cacti with the Remington he had given me for no reason at all. He wasn’t all bad, my old man.
“Hey … I see you two are working hard,” Sophia said. She came up the steps and joined us on the deck. She lightly squeezed my shoulder and grinned.
I was jolted back to the present, which wasn’t bad, and smiled. She was wearing navy capris and a white vest as a top. If I’d been a stick of butter, I’d have melted. “Five minutes earlier and you would have caught me working.”
“We can’t have that.”
We all laughed and it felt good. I got up and offered her my chair, then pulled another out for myself.
“Whatcha got there?” Burke asked, peering at the two envelopes Sophia was holding.
She smiled as she sat down. “This is a little something for Tatum.” From the larger, padded envelope, she pulled out a framed copy of the Odessa Record, front page above the fold. She handed it to Burke.
It was an exposé of our investigation, emphasizing a twelve-year-old’s tenacity and his father’s bravery. It may never win her that Pulitzer, but it won my heart. Ryce was a hero and Tatum now had the proof framed and ready to hang on the living room wall.
Burke sniffled as he read the article. He turned away, embarrassed at the tears spilling from his eyes. “You did good,” he said, brushing his hands across his face. “Real good. He’s going to like this.”
Sophia smiled tenderly. “I’m glad you’re pleased. And this is for you,” she said, handing me the other envelope.
I opened it and laughed. “Office spaces for lease,” I said, reading the local real estate printout.
“In case you ever get licensed in Texas,” she said, smiling.
I peeked in the envelope, then pulled out the brochures that were still in it. There were several for apartment complexes in Odessa, and even a few in Kermit.
“In case you want to stick close to home,” she said softly.
I looked up at Tatum, still digging his way to China, and smiled. He brushed his bangs to the side, then wiped sweat from his brow. He really did need a haircut. Maybe I could take him tomorrow.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
LYNN CHANDLER WILLIS is the first woman to win the PWA Competition in more than ten years. She has worked in the corporate world, the television news business, and the newspaper industry. She was born, raised, and continues to live in the heart of North Carolina within walking distance of her children, their spouses, and her nine grandchildren. She shares her home, and heart, with Sam the cocker spaniel. She lives in Randleman, North Carolina.
Visit her Web site at www.lynnchandlerwillis.com.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
A THOMAS DUNNE BOOK FOR MINOTAUR BOOKS.
An imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group.
WINK OF AN EYE. Copyright © 2014 by Lynn Chandler Willis. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.thomasdunnebooks.com
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Cover design by David Baldeosingh Rotstein
Cover photograph by Andrew Butler
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The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Chandler-Willis, Lynn, 1960-
Wink of an eye: a mystery / Lynn Chandler Willis.
pages cm
ISBN 978-1-250-05319-0 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-4668-5551-9 (e-book)
1. Private investigators—Fiction. 2. Fathers—Death—Fiction. 3. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. 4. Women illegal aliens—Fiction. 5
. Police—Fiction. 6. Texas—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3603.H357258W56 2014
813'.6—dc23
2014031501
e-ISBN 9781466855519
First Edition: November 2014