by Karen White
Joe stood abruptly, his chair rolling on its wheels until it slammed into the wall behind him. He didn’t stop to wonder why he was trying to protect the woman who had deserted him. “You son of a bitch.” He came around the desk to stand in front of Stinky, his face within inches of the other man’s. “You don’t know anything about her.”
Sweat spotted Stinky’s forehead, but his eyes didn’t pull away from Joe’s. “A lot more than you, apparently. She even reneged on a deal we had.”
Joe backed up, still wary. “What kind of deal?”
Stinky looked uncomfortable for the first time since he’d entered Joe’s office. “She agreed that if Charlie won the contest, she’d tell me everything I wanted to know about herself.”
“And if he lost?”
“Then I’d drop out of the election.” A smug smile sat on Stinky’s face as he chewed on his toothpick.
This time, Joe grabbed him by his collar, seeing clearly for the first time in a week. “You did this to Maddie, didn’t you? And to Suzanne. You’ve damaged two people just to win this election. No, you might not have taken that negative out of the garbage can, but you sure as hell made Charlie enter it as his own, thinking he’d win, didn’t you?” Joe released him, pushing him backward as he did.
Stinky straightened his collar and tie. “Now, wait just a minute, here. Charlie won that contest with his own picture. And nobody can prove otherwise.”
Joe grabbed his coat off the antique rack by the door. “You haven’t heard the last of this. I know what you’re up to, and you’re not going to get away with it.” He swung open the door, letting it bang into the inner wall of his office, and strode out into the hallway.
Stinky followed him. “You might want to check at your house first. I told Mr. deSalvo that you were sleeping with her.”
Joe paused on the landing. “Go to hell, Stinky.” Then he ran the rest of the way down the stairs and out onto the street.
When he pulled up in front of his house, he recognized Sheriff Adams’s cruiser and a red Mustang convertible he’d never seen before. As he walked behind it, he spotted the rental agency’s bumper sticker.
They were in the yellow living room, and Lucinda was bustling about in a bright pink apron, handing out refreshments. Joey was chasing Sarah Frances and Knoxie with a rubber snake while Harry and Amanda flanked the dark stranger on the love seat, each of them squeezed up to his sides, eating lemon bars with powdered sugar that was now liberally covering the man’s pants. The man looked miserable and annoyed. God bless Lucinda.
Joe nodded to Hank Adams. “Sheriff,” he said, then turned to the stranger but didn’t offer him his hand. “I’m Joe Warner. Is there something you want with me?”
The man extricated himself from the love seat. “Where’s Suzanne?”
Hank turned to Joe as Joe gave the children “the look” that sent them scurrying out of the room. “Joe, this is Anthony deSalvo from Chicago. He says Suzanne stole something from him.”
Joe remembered what Cassie had told him, how the pictures had probably been stolen before they were given to Suzanne. He faced the man and kept his face expressionless. “She didn’t steal them. This man gave them to her as an engagement present.”
Hank shook his head, looking uncomfortable. “He says Suzanne stole a collection of Gertrude Hardt photographs. I did make a few phone calls and verified his story.”
Joe’s gaze didn’t flinch. “Can he prove that Suzanne did it?”
“That’s why we need to find her and ask some questions. Do you know where she is?”
“No. But she’s not here.”
Lucinda appeared again, wobbling in red high heels and carrying a tray of iced-tea glasses and a pitcher. She placed it on a bookshelf before leaning over the coffee table to move a stack of books, to make room for the tray. Something slid off the stack and floated to the floor, and deSalvo moved to pick it up as Lucinda turned back to get the tray.
DeSalvo held up an eight-by-ten photograph, a satisfied look on his face. “I have proof now.”
Hank stuck out his hand, and deSalvo handed it to him. As Hank looked at the photograph, the other man snapped open a briefcase at his feet and pulled out a folder, a look of surprised satisfaction resting on his face. “Here’s a catalog of the missing photographs. The one you’re holding is at the bottom of the second page.”
Hank took the catalog while Joe moved to his side to look. It was definitely the same photograph.
“What does this prove?”
“It, ah . . .” Hank coughed and looked over at Lucinda, who was regarding him with narrow eyes. He quickly looked back to the photograph. “I’m sorry to say it, Joe, but you’re in possession of stolen property. I’m going to have to take you in for questioning.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me! Hank, you know I didn’t steal this. I’ve never even seen it before.”
“Don’t make me use the cuffs, Joe. Just cooperate and I’m sure we’ll get this settled in no time. But you might want to call your lawyer.”
“My lawyer? Hank, this is me you’re talking to. Your daddy is my lawyer. You call him. And tell him to get down to the station just as quick as his lumbago will allow him.”
As Hank led Joe out of the house, followed by Anthony deSalvo and a glaring Lucinda, Knoxie ran out of the house following them, her red hair held back in one long braid. “Daddy! Don’t let them take you to jail! Who’s going to feed us?”
Joe did a double take at his daughter and saw Lucinda elbowing her to be quiet. Knoxie glanced over at deSalvo and saw that he’d had no reaction to her theatrics, and immediately stopped. She waved to Joe. “Don’t worry, Daddy. I’ll help Aunt Lu with Amanda and Harry. Just don’t let them keep you in jail too long.”
Hank rubbed her head as he passed. “Don’t worry, sugar. I’m sure this is just a huge misunderstanding and we’ll have your daddy home before suppertime.”
“Now, just a minute, Sheriff—”
Hank cut off deSalvo. “I’m following the law by the book here, mister, as much as I know Joe is innocent. So just cut us some slack, all right?”
With that, he opened the back door to his cruiser and Joe got in. After the door had shut, Joe rested his head on the back of the seat. Being taken to jail was just par for the course of his life lately. It had all started when he’d first seen Suzanne at the gas station, and life hadn’t been the same since. He winced. It had been better. Until she left. Where are you, Suzanne? And how did that damned picture end up in my house?
He waved to Lucinda and his kids, knowing they’d be well cared for in his absence, and sat back to endure the ride to the police station.
Suzanne pulled the stopper from the small motel sink and watched the water and soapsuds disappear down the drain. She missed having a laundry room. And a kitchen. And a big bedroom with a view of a wide front lawn. And the voices of people who filled all those rooms.
She caught sight of her reflection in the overhead mirror again and winced. Her eyes were still pink and swollen, as if she hadn’t stopped crying in over a week. Then again, she realized, she probably hadn’t.
There was a loud knock on the door, and Suzanne called out, “I’m not ready for housekeeping yet. Come back later.”
There was no answer except for another knock, louder this time. And then a familiar voice. “Miz Paris? It’s me—Rob Campbell. Maddie’s friend. Can I come in?”
Suzanne froze for a moment, then opened the door and allowed him to enter.
“Rob. It’s good to see you.” She looked past him to the empty hallway, then closed the door. “How did you find me?”
He gave her an endearing smile that Suzanne knew had probably melted Maddie’s heart at least once. “People answer questions from a kid a lot quicker than they would from an adult.”
She tried to keep her voice light and only half succeeded. “You mean you’re not the only one who’s tried to find me?”
He looked embarrassed. “So far. But I’m sure as s
oon as Coach Warner comes to his senses, he’ll be looking, too. But he’s been a real pain in the ass ever since you left. It would be a lot better for all of us if you’d come back.”
She tried her best to hide her disappointment. “Is that why you came? Because I can’t go back. Not ever. And Maddie doesn’t want me to, either.”
“Oh no, Miz Paris. You’re wrong. She was real mad at you and all, and I think she still has issues, but she wants you to come back to Walton. That’s why we’re here in Myrtle Beach. We’ve come to bring you home.”
“She’s here now? With you?” Hope surged inside her, like water on a dry creek bed. Then a sick thought hit her. “Does her father know? I mean, you’re pretty far from home, and I can’t see her dad agreeing to an overnight trip with a boy.”
Robbie coughed and looked at his sneakers. “Um, actually, he doesn’t know. He’s, uh, he’s in jail. Which is part of the reason why we’ve come.”
“What? Joe’s in jail? What happened?”
“It’s not that bad. They haven’t set bail yet, because Coach Warner refuses to talk, but Dr. Parker says he’ll post bail as soon as he changes his mind. But I’d rather have Maddie go over the stuff with you. Can I go get her?”
Suzanne nodded, feeling numb. As soon as Robbie left, she began to pace the room, unsure of Maddie’s reception. She couldn’t forget Maddie’s last words to her, or the look on her face.
Hearing noises outside, Suzanne opened the door and stepped back as Maddie and Robbie entered the room and closed the door quietly behind them.
Maddie regarded her intently, her green eyes sharp, her mouth firm. You’ve grown up, Maddie. It was as if, in a week, she had gracefully given up the things of childhood and had discovered all the joys and burdens of growing up. The young woman in front of her was beautiful, smart, and strong and Suzanne felt a surge of pride as if she somehow was partly responsible.
Without a word, Maddie moved forward and put her arms around Suzanne, hugging her tightly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said to you.”
Suzanne bit back tears. “Yes, you did, and that’s all right. I deserved them.”
Maddie pulled back, shaking her head. “Aunt Cassie told me everything. Why you did it. And why you wanted to stay. “
Suzanne looked down, no longer able to hold back the tears. “It was still unforgivable.”
Maddie squeezed her again, her own eyes bright with unshed tears. “If you love somebody, there’s nothing that can’t be forgiven. My mama would have told you the same thing.”
“So you’re not mad at me anymore?”
Maddie pulled back with a frown. “I’m still pissed. But I’ll get over it.”
“That’s a relief.” Suzanne took a deep breath. “I wrote to Lifetime, by the way, to let them know the whole story and, hopefully, disqualify Charlie.”
Maddie and Rob exchanged a quick glance. “Thanks, that’s really great, but we need you to help us out with something else now.”
“Like what?”
“It’s a long story, but Daddy’s in jail and they’re saying that he’s in possession of stolen property. The official charge is theft by receiving. They found one of those missing photographs in our house.”
Suzanne couldn’t breathe for a moment as she fell onto one of the double beds and put her head in her hands. She remembered the photograph she’d stuck in the back of the album—and forgotten until at that moment. How could I be so stupid? “It’s a Gertrude Hardt.”
A crooked smile lit Maddie’s face. “Yeah. Anthony deSalvo told us that.”
“He’s in Walton?” Suzanne shook her head. “Of course he is. He saw my picture on the magazine. I knew it wouldn’t take him long.”
Maddie sat down next to her. “I know that’s why you took the negative. And now he’s in Walton, making everybody’s life hell.”
Suzanne met her eyes. “But how did Joe get the picture, and how did Anthony find it?”
“It fell out of my album when I was looking at it with Aunt Cassie. I’m sure if I hadn’t been so blind with anger, I would have realized what it was and not left it hanging around. Instead, I just put it on the coffee table in the living room and forgot about it. Sheriff Adams and Mr. deSalvo saw it when they came to question my dad about you.”
“This gets worse and worse, doesn’t it?”
“It will only get worse if you don’t come with us. Daddy’s figured out where the picture came from, but he refuses to tell the sheriff. They’ve proven it’s an authentic photograph and part of the missing collection.”
Suzanne stared at them numbly. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just wanted to go and let you all get on with your lives.”
Maddie took her hand. “But you are a part of our lives. Daddy won’t admit it, but he’s half out of his head with grief. I haven’t seen him like this since Mama died. He’s so angry with you, too, for not telling him the truth. And for . . . for what happened with my picture.”
Robbie sat down on the other bed. “Miz Paris, I know that it’s going to be hard coming back and facing Mr. deSalvo and his charges. And you might even have to spend a night in jail. But Maddie’s got a plan, and if everything goes the way it’s supposed to, nobody will end up facing a jail sentence, and Coach Warner will still be mayor.”
She didn’t even stop to think before answering. She would go back to save Joe, even if it meant having to face the one thing she’d been running from. But it would be worth it if she could make up for all her mistakes to Joe. And Maddie. Besides, she had nothing left to lose.
“I’ll go. I should never have let it get this far. If I’ve done something wrong, then I’ll have to deal with the consequences.”
Maddie stood and faced Suzanne, her hands on her hips the way Suzanne had seen Lucinda do when she was giving one of the children a dressing-down. “Look, Miz Paris. If I can figure out a way to forgive you, then you got to find a way to forgive yourself. Everything bad that’s ever happened in your life is not your fault, okay? So stop trying to punish yourself for things you didn’t do. Nobody likes a martyr.”
Suzanne stood up, anger pulsing in her veins. “I’m not being a martyr. . . .”
Maddie smiled. “Great. You’re mad. Keep that thought, because you’re going to need it. Come on, let’s go. I’ve got a great plan. . . .”
As Suzanne sat in the back of Robbie’s Jeep while it flew down the interstate, she played with the gold charm around her neck and stared up at the overcast sky and at the sun struggling to come out from behind the clouds.
CHAPTER 24
Maddie hung back in the shadows off the side of the road, looking for headlights to spring up from the long stretch of asphalt. She checked her watch again. Ten forty. They should be along any minute now. She coughed quietly, choking on the heavy aroma of manure that hung in the air.
She looked down the road again and this time was rewarded by two pinpricks of light. She put her cell phone to her ear and heard Rob say, “It’s them.” Ending the call, she turned her head and yelled, “Go!”
Brake lights and headlights came to life as an engine was cranked, and a large, lumbering truck pulled out into the middle of the road, straddling the center line of the deserted highway.
As the red Mustang came up behind the truck, Maddie said a silent thank-you to Kenny Northcutt, who knew more about cars than he did about anything else. He’d said he could rig the convertible so that the top couldn’t be closed. Thankfully, the December weather had been balmy enough that a person from frigid Chicago wouldn’t complain too much about not being able to close the roof.
The little car’s tires screeched as it braked hard, then swerved as it avoided the slow-moving truck. It stopped almost perpendicular to the back of the truck, the passenger close enough to touch the mud-splattered license plate. The car honked with three bright yaps as Maddie jogged down the shoulder of the road, keeping out of the light from the overhead billboard, her hands holding her camera close to her chest to keep i
t from bouncing.
The truck stopped completely, causing two more bleeps from the impatient sports car behind them. Then a loud squealing pealed out into the night as the tailgate of the truck slid back and the dump bed rose in the air on a high incline.
Before the men in the car could gather what was about to happen, an entire load of fresh cow manure slid from the truck over and into the passenger compartment, coating all with thick black dung.
Maddie struggled hard not to laugh, not wanting anything to ruin her plan. The men in the car were now standing on the front seat, yelling and cursing at the top of their lungs.
As if on cue, Arnie and Chip Slappey got out of the truck. Both of them were football players for Walton High, and they stood well over six feet and weighed close to two hundred and fifty pounds apiece—and all of it muscle, thanks to the manual labor they did on their daddy’s farm. The fact that they both wore overalls didn’t lessen their formidable presence at all.
Maddie watched, mesmerized, as they began to talk like those boys from The Dukes of Hazzard. As long as she wasn’t expected to go parading around in short-short cutoffs, she didn’t care. They were being too damned effective.
Arnie spoke first as he came around to the driver’s side of the car. “Oh man. We’re sorry, sir. I told my daddy to get that truck fixed weeks ago. The level for the dump bed keeps activating by itself every time we stop the truck. That’s the second time it’s done it in a week.”
Anthony deSalvo let out an expletive Maddie had never heard, followed by “You asshole! Look what you’ve done!”
Stinky Harden, in the passenger seat beside deSalvo, was busy wiping manure off his face with his coat sleeve. “Son of a bitch!” he yelled, slinging cow dung.
Chip stared up at the two dung-covered men with a speculative look. “Well, gosh. This is terrible.”