Maggie closed her eyes briefly. “She is going to hate me for the rest of my life.”
Everest gave Maggie a sympathetic look. “If it’s bad news it’s best to give it in small doses.”
“Everest is so sensitive,” Queenie said, as she joined the last of the cars waiting in front of Mel’s school. The girl sat alone on a bench. Queenie blew her horn several times and called out to her.
Mel gaped; she sank down on the bench and slapped one hand over her eyes.
“Oh, look, our little girl is so happy to see us,” Queenie said.
Finally, Mel pulled her hand away and glanced about nervously. Maggie wasn’t sure if her daughter was trying to make certain nobody noticed the car waiting to pick her up or if she was looking for an escape route. Finally, she grabbed her book bag and slunk toward Queenie’s car.
“Um. What’s going on?” she asked, the minute she spied Everest in the back. She ducked to get a better look at Maggie.
“Hop in,” Queenie said, struggling to get her door open. She leaned forward; pulling the seat back with her so Mel could squeeze in. “And don’t be scared of Everest,” Queenie added. “He’s not as dangerous as he looks.”
Everest smiled and nodded at Mel. “I’m not dangerous at all,” he said.
Mel nodded but kept her distance. She looked at her mother. “Where’s your car?”
“At the office. Queenie wanted me to meet her friend Everest so we all rode together.”
“We wanted to surprise you,” Queenie said.
“You owe me, Mom,” the girl said. “I get to color my hair now.”
Maggie sighed. She and Mel had discussed the hair thing many times. “Your hair is beautiful,” she said for the umpteenth time.
“It’s orange! I hate it, and since I’m the one who has to wear it I think I should be able to have it the color I want. I’m tired of being teased.”
“Who’s teasing you?” Everest asked. “Give me a name.”
“Stay focused, Everest,” Queenie said. “You don’t have time to go around scaring schoolkids.”
“I want to go blond,” Mel said after a moment.
Queenie glanced at Maggie. “I should probably stay out of this. I should probably keep my mouth shut.”
Maggie arched one brow. “You think?” Still, Maggie felt bad for her daughter. She remembered how cliquish kids had been when she was growing up, especially the girls. That she had excelled in math, science, and chemistry, subjects usually preferred by boys in those days, had made her an oddity. She had wanted so badly to fit in, to be invited places after school and on weekends by the other kids. And then she’d met Carl Lee Stanton, town hunk and troublemaker, and everything had changed.
“Are you even listening to me?” Mel said.
Maggie turned and looked at her. “I always listen to you, honey, but I’m not backing down on this one.” Maggie wondered how much authority she would have left once Mel caught sight of her father’s picture on TV, complete with his jailhouse tattoos.
“Blond is definitely not the color for you,” Everest said. “You should look into a rinse. It will tone down your color without harsh chemicals.”
Maggie and Mel just looked at him.
“My sister is a hairdresser,” Everest said. “All she talks about is hair, hair, hair. So I know what I’m talking about. Hair and makeup should be subtle, less is always more. At least, that’s what my sister says.”
“Yeah?” Mel sounded interested.
“Hey, I have a great idea,” Queenie said. “We should stop by the Full Scoop ice-cream parlor.”
“That’ll work,” Mel said.
Maggie noted her daughter’s eager expression. She had a secret crush on Abby Bradley’s fifteen-year-old son Travis.
“My friends have been carrying on about this new flavor of chocolate ice cream,” Queenie said. “They say it’s better than sex, and at my age that’s as close as I’m going to get to the real thing.”
“Don’t listen to her, Mel,” Maggie said teasingly, having learned long ago that Queenie did not censor her words.
Queenie glanced at Maggie. “I think we could all use a little chocolate about now, don’t you? We could buy a whole gallon and take it with us.”
Maggie almost hated herself for salivating over the thought of chocolate when she was facing serious problems. Queenie parked in front of the ice-cream parlor and cut her engine.
“I’ll wait in the car,” Everest said. “It might blow my tough-guy image if people see me going into a place like that.”
The three of them barely made it through the door before Abby called out to Maggie. “I hear you have a new goat.”
Maggie offered the woman a stiff smile.
“We have a goat?” Mel asked incredulously.
“It’s only temporary, honey.”
Mel gave a huge sigh. “That’s what you said about the chickens and the rabbits. I’m the only one in my school who has a petting zoo in her backyard.”
Travis Bradley stepped up to the counter wearing a full white apron. “Hey, Miss Queenie,” he said. “You’re looking mighty fine today.”
Mel stared, transfixed.
“Hey, yourself, cutie-pie,” Queenie replied. “I’d like a gallon of that new Better than Sex chocolate ice cream. I hear it’s good stuff.”
Travis grinned. “It must be good because we’re selling it faster than I can dip it. I filled some containers in advance for when we get busy.” He reached into a freezer behind him and pulled out a gallon-sized carton. “Only problem, you have to be twenty-one to buy it.” He looked her over. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask for an ID, Miss Queenie.”
Queenie preened. “I’ve always looked younger than my age,” she said.
Abby stepped closer and leaned on the freezer case, her gaze fixed on Maggie. “I suppose you’ve heard about Carl Lee Stanton’s escape. It’s all over the news. Are you okay?”
Maggie saw Mel’s curious look. “I’m fine,” she said brightly. “And you?”
Abby went on in a whisper. “They’re saying he’s probably on his way back here to get that robbery money. I hope he doesn’t, um, you know. Try to look you up,” she added.
Maggie remembered that Abby had been a big mouth in high school as well. “Honestly, Abby, that’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Queenie glared at Abby. “When are you going to learn to mind your own business?” she said. “Why, I have half a mind to—”
“Time to go,” Maggie sang out and slapped a ten-dollar bill on the counter. She nudged a frowning and grumbling Queenie toward the door.
Everest seemed to pick up on it right away. “Who upset you, Granny Queenie? Give me a name.”
“I’ll take care of her, Everest, dear. Old Queenie still has a few tricks up her sleeve.”
Maggie shot her a dark look. “Don’t even think it.”
“Who is Carl Lee Stanton,” Mel asked, “and who did he rob?”
Maggie and Queenie exchanged looks. Maggie turned to Mel. “He and I attended the same high school, although he was a couple of grades higher than me. He made some very bad decisions and went to prison.”
“Did he kill anybody?”
“Yes. An FBI agent,” Maggie said. She gave her daughter a brief rundown of Carl Lee’s crimes.
Mel looked out the window, but Maggie knew the wheels were turning in her head. Her daughter wasn’t finished asking questions. Queenie started the car and backed out. Mel turned to Maggie once more.
“Why would he look you up?”
“Um, well.” Maggie hedged. “We sort of went out a few times.”
Mel was clearly shocked. “You dated a convict?”
“No!” Maggie gave an emphatic head shake. “I had already broken up with him by then.”
“You were going with him? Like what you call ‘going steady’?”
“Goodness gracious,” Queenie said. “So many questions. Reminds me of those old Perry Mason shows.”
“Melanie Anne Davenport!” Queenie’s voice held a note of warning.
Everest shook his head. “I didn’t know.”
“It was a long time ago,” Maggie said. “Those who did know have probably forgotten. Except for that bigmouthed Abby Bradley, but most people ignore her.”
“Somebody needs to teach Abby a good lesson,” Queenie said.
“I can have one of my little talks with her,” Everest offered.
Mel looked genuinely concerned. “Are we in danger?”
“Everest is going to look after you and your mama,” Queenie cut in, “and tomorrow I’m going to Savannah to stock up on my supplies. And buy a black hen,” she added. “Carl Lee Stanton can kiss his sorry bottom good-bye ’cause Queenie Cloud is on the job.”
Maggie frowned but said nothing. She didn’t know which was scarier, Carl Lee on the loose or Queenie with her black chicken and heaven only knew what else.
Queenie pulled behind Maggie’s car a few minutes later and Everest did battle with the door once more. “Granny Queenie, you need to do something about these doors.”
“It’s the humidity,” Queenie said, as though it made perfect sense.
Everest finally managed to get it open. He climbed out and held the front seat forward so Maggie could get out. “Are you coming?” she asked Mel.
Mel shook her head. “I’m riding with Aunt Queenie.”
Maggie hesitated.
“We’ll follow you,” Queenie said. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to scold her and remind her how I raised her better than to talk to her mother that way. That’s your job.”
“Thanks.” Maggie hurried toward her car. She pulled onto the road a moment later and headed home. She tried to clear her head as she drove. She had accomplished one important step; Mel knew about Carl Lee, and she knew her mother had been involved with him. Maggie figured it was best to let the girl deal with that piece of news before landing the final blow.
She noticed the van in her driveway as soon as she turned onto her street. It was hard not to notice. She tried to think who it might be and couldn’t. Carl Lee and his cohorts? she wondered and slowed her car. Surely not, she told herself. Like Jamie, she didn’t think he would risk getting on an airplane.
She spied a bearded man on her front steps, his long denim-clad legs stretched before him, crossed at the ankles. He wore a red and white floral shirt; a cast was on his right arm and a white bandage on his forehead. She didn’t recognize him. Finally, she pulled in, put her car in park, but kept the engine running. She checked the door locks as the man stood and started toward her.
Maggie rolled down her window as the bearded man stepped up to the car. Without warning, and with lightning precision, he reached inside the open window with one hand, hit the master lock and yanked the door open with the other.
“What do you think you’re doing!” Maggie demanded in her most menacing tone, at the same time wondering if the man was one of Carl Lee’s thug friends. “Get out of here or I’ll blow you to kingdom come with my, um, Magnum!” She wasn’t even sure what a Magnum looked like, but it sounded pretty scary. She reached beneath her seat, pretending to go for her gun, but all she could find was her compact umbrella. This annoyed the heck out of her since she could never find the damn thing when it rained.
“Amateurs,” Zack muttered. “Rule number one, lady,” he said. “Don’t threaten to shoot somebody unless you have a gun to back it up. Rule number two, keep your windows raised at all times. I can’t help you if you’re going to do stupid stuff.”
Maggie wasn’t listening. She put her car in reverse and hit the gas. The tires grabbed the concrete, and the car shot back like a bullet.
The car slammed right into the front of Queenie’s car. “Holy hell!” Maggie yanked her head around; she hadn’t seen the woman pull in. She cut her engine, grabbed her umbrella, and bolted from the car. She heard a loud yowl and turned, only seconds before Mel jumped the man from behind, wrapped both arms around his neck, and began choking him.
“Run, Mom!” the girl yelled. “He’s got a gun tucked in the back of his pants!”
“Mel, no!” Maggie cried. She swung her umbrella, and hit Zack, as hard as she could, in the gut. He grunted. “Let go of my daughter, you scumbag!” she shouted, hitting him again. “Or I’ll beat you so hard your mother won’t recognize you.”
“Hey, wait!” Zack said. “I’m FBI.” He reached for his wallet, just as Queenie hurled her cell phone at him. It bounced off the side of his head. Zack blinked several times. “What the hell?”
“Hang on!” Everest said, trying to squeeze through the window on the passenger’s side of Queenie’s car and getting stuck as a result. He finally pulled free and hit the pavement in a dead run. “I’ll save ya’ll!”
Zack looked up. “Holy shit!” he said, a split second before impact.
Chapter Three
“I can’t tell you how sorry we are, Mr. Madden,” Maggie said for the third or fourth time as she and Everest pulled Zack from the ground and insisted on helping him inside the house. Even in her concern she couldn’t help notice how solid he was; the muscles in his back and upper arms were hard and defined.
“Look, I’m okay,” Zack said. “Really,” he added when the tension in her face didn’t lessen. She was pretty, despite her distress. “But if you ask me to do jumping jacks I’m going to have to decline.” He looked up at Everest. “Have you ever thought of becoming a bulldozer?”
“I feel bad about this,” Everest said. “I thought you were Carl Lee Stanton.”
“I’m much better looking.”
Maggie paid scant attention to the two as she took in the damage. “You’re all skinned up and bleeding,” she said. “Mel, please hand me my medical bag.”
“No big deal,” Zack said. “I’ve hurt myself worse than this going out for my newspaper.”
Mel looked awed. “Man, Everest just mowed him down!” she said, grabbing the bag from the top of the refrigerator.
Queenie stared at the badge that Zack had asked Everest to pull from his wallet, even as the big man had held him in a body lock, Zack’s face pressed against the concrete driveway. She glanced from the badge to Zack and back to the badge.
“Problem?” Zack asked.
“How do we know this badge is for real?” she asked. “And if it is real, how do we know this is you? This man doesn’t have a beard. And how come you’re driving a hippie van? FBI agents drive black cars with tinted windows.”
“Yeah, and they wear black suits and sunglasses,” Mel said. “Didn’t you see Men in Black?”
“And how come somebody from the FBI didn’t alert Dr. Davenport to the fact they would be sending an agent to look after the doc and her daughter?” Queenie added.
“I just did,” Zack said. “There wasn’t a whole lot of time to plan. I was on a plane within minutes of learning about Stanton’s escape. You can’t get service that quick in a fast-food restaurant. And to tell you the truth, I don’t want people knowing. Only reason I blurted it out like I did was because I was losing oxygen, and my aunt Gertrude, rest her soul, was trying to convince me to come to the light.”
All four stared back as though they didn’t know what to make of him. “I’m kidding about Aunt Gertrude,” he said. “I don’t even have an Aunt Gertrude.”
“So if nobody is supposed to know who you are what are we going to tell people?” Maggie asked.
“I’m a long-lost relative?” He looked at Mel. “I could be your favorite uncle.”
“I don’t have an uncle. My dad was an orphan.”
“We’ll pretend.”
Everest snapped his fingers. “I get it! He’s undercover. But he’s smarter than most undercover cops because they like to blend. People like Carl Lee Stanton will be looking for someone who blends. Zack is definitely not blending; you can see tha
t van three blocks away. Not to mention the beard and Hawaiian shirt.”
Maggie looked up from her bag. Beard? Hawaiian shirt? She felt the hairs stand on the back of her neck as she recalled Destiny Moultrie’s questions.
“In other words,” Everest said. “Zack is so obvious that he’s not obvious. Does that make sense?”
“I think I get it,” Zack said.
“You need to sit down so I can reach your head,” Maggie said, noting how tall he was. The fact that she noticed the width of his shoulders as well stymied her.
“I don’t think very many people know my dad was orphaned,” Mel said.
“Just call me Uncle Zack,” he said, and pulled his pistol from the back of his jeans. Maggie yelped and pushed Mel behind her, Queenie started down the hall.
Everest tried to wrestle the gun from him.
“Hold it!” Zack said. “I’m not going to shoot anybody. I’m just trying to get comfortable.”
Everest backed off. “Sorry. Just doing my job.”
Zack offered the gun, handle first, to Maggie. “Would you please put this on top of your refrigerator so it’ll be out of the way?”
“Huh?” She stared at the weapon. “Do we have to keep it inside?”
Zack shrugged. “I guess I could lock it in the van, but if Stanton and his buddies show up, one of you will have to cover me while I run out for it.”
“Okay,” Maggie said begrudgingly. She took the gun between two fingers and very slowly crossed the room with it as though it were a hand grenade, and she feared it would explode at any moment. “I hate guns,” she added as she placed it on the refrigerator.
Zack gave her a sympathetic nod. “I don’t really have a choice. My boss sort of expects me to keep one on me.” He glanced about the group. “Listen, if it’ll make everybody feel better you can call the bureau and check me out. Thomas Helms, the director, will vouch for me.”
“I think we all need to settle down,” Maggie said. “Mr. Madden, would you like something to eat or drink? Or should I refer to you as Agent Madden?”
“Just call me Zack. I’m not hungry. I had something called a shrimp burger on the drive from the airport. Now that’s something you don’t see a lot of in Virginia.” He caught Queenie staring, eyes narrowed like slits. “Uh-oh, I’m going to be real embarrassed if you tell me I have a shrimp hull wedged between my teeth.”
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