“Sloan isn’t your brother, is he?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“He’s a cop, isn’t he?”
Daniel Crocker thought Sloan was a cop and I was somehow involved with him.
Oh my God, I got Sloan killed.
Facing my own death was one thing, but causing the death of someone else was completely different. It made being stood up on a date seem pretty insignificant.
I paid for the glass of wine and left, unsure what to do. I felt drawn to the funeral home. Sloan’s visitation might be tonight. I could pay my respects. It was the least I could do if I really got him killed.
I drove past the building, the parking lot filled with cars. It didn’t mean it was Sloan’s, but I knew one way to check. It was so crowded, I had to pull into the gravel overflow parking. Picking my way through the gravel proved a challenge, considering I wasn’t used to wearing heels. By the time I made it to the paved lot, teetering on asphalt felt like walking in flip-flops.
A sign propped up inside the front door announced that Sloan Chapman occupied the Magnolia Room. The Magnolia Room was the big room, which explained all the cars in the lot. I walked down the hall, making my way around the mourners milling about.
“It’s such a shame,” a woman said to her companion in a hushed tone. “He was such a nice guy.”
I knew that firsthand.
Overdressed for a wake, I attracted more attention than I wanted. When I entered the Magnolia Room, at least four times the size of the Jasmine, I stood toward the rear, getting my bearings. A throng of people gravitated to the front, where an elderly woman stood next to the casket, weeping. A younger woman stood next to her, looking shell-shocked.
I found it hard to believe that a week ago I had been in the same spot.
“Did you know him very well?” The man next to me wore a suit, but he tugged at the collar like he wasn’t used to being dressed up. I guessed him to be around my age.
I shook my head. “No, not really. I only knew him from Jaspers. He was really nice to me.”
“That was Sloan, nice to everyone. He took off to Dallas for several years and came back about six months ago sporting his tattoos and his earrings, but still the same sweet guy. A giant teddy bear.”
What little I knew of Sloan, I believed that. “Why did he come home?” I asked.
“His mom is sick. That’s her up there.” He pointed to the woman up front. “She got breast cancer. Sloan came home to help her out.”
A lump formed in my throat, making it difficult to talk. “I’m so sorry.”
He turned to look at me with a quizzical expression. “Yeah, everyone is sorry. The world’s a sadder place without Sloan.
The casket lid was propped open, but I didn't think I could bring myself to go up and look. I’d seen enough. I was ready to go.
Turning to leave the room, I saw him standing at the door watching me.
Daniel Crocker.
“I wondered if you’d show up,” he said, looking me up and down. “You look nice. I was about to give up on you but patience is what got me where I am today.”
“Where? In a funeral home?” My retort was so unlike me, but I found his cocky attitude irritating, especially if he killed Sloan.
“Feisty, huh? We’ll see how feisty you really are.” He grabbed my arm. It looked innocent enough, a man assisting a woman, but his fingers pinched deep into my arm. “Let’s take a walk, shall we?”
My heart wanted to fling itself from my chest. Should I scream? Should I try to run? I couldn’t get very far in my three-inch heels and screaming seemed irreverent to Sloan. Getting him killed was bad enough; I didn’t want to disrupt his visitation.
“What do you want?” I asked, trying to keep up with him. I willed myself to be brave. I needed to be brave to get out of this.
“You know what I want. Let’s not play stupid.”
He continued to drag me down the hall toward the back exit, past the offices. I knew from standing outside with Joe at Momma’s visitation that the rear of the funeral home was fairly secluded. Going out there alone with Daniel Crocker was a very bad idea.
“You’ve got the wrong person. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I tried to pull my arm out of his grasp without making a scene, but his fingers dug deeper. I almost cried out in pain, but swallowed it down.
“Now, now Rose. You and Sloan were sly, just not sly enough. Come on.”
We moved past the crowd in the lobby and started down the empty hall to the exit. I knew it made a right angle at the end of the hall, turning into a three-foot section at the exit. That area would be completely out of view of the mourners in the lobby. My panic rose like a freak desert flash flood; one minute everything is calm, the next, it was raging out of control.
Keep it together, Rose. You can get out of this.
We reached the end of the hall and I dug my heels into the carpet. Daniel Crocker turned to face me with an evil grin. “Wanna do this the hard way, huh?” He gave my arm a vicious jerk and I flew forward into his chest. He made a low guttural sound. “I like you, Rose. I'd like to think we can work something out.”
I had trouble holding down my fear. You can't give into this panic or you won’t be able to think. I pulled away from him, trying to back up in to the hall visible to the people in the lobby, but he grabbed both of my arms and pulled me toward him, out of sight.
“You wanted your anonymity, which was all well and good until you failed to deliver what you were paid for.” He growled into my face. His breath smelled of garlic and onions. “And we had reliable information that you worked at the DMV. I just didn’t know who you were until that Friday I came in. I was there trying to sniff you out and the look on your face when you saw my name told me everything I needed to know.”
I couldn’t hold back the sob that pushed its way to the surface. “I swear, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t even know Sloan.” I choked out.
Daniel pinned me to the wall by the back door. He leaned his body into mine. “Now, now, baby. I thought we were past the games.” His eyes traveled down to my chest and back to my face. He smiled, but it was more of a leer. “I like how you’ve spent the money. If it were just me, I’d be willing to forgive and forget, but my partners aren’t as understanding as me. They’re tired of waiting.”
“I don't know what you're talking about. I don’t know what you want.” My words sounded like a whine. So much for being brave.
We stood a few feet from the door. Daniel Crocker was bigger and stronger than me. If he wanted me to go outside, I was going outside. At least if I stayed in the funeral home, I stood a chance.
“I want lots of things, baby, but right now I want the flash drive.” He leaned toward my neck and took a deep breath. “You smell delicious. I bet you taste as good as you look.”
I let out a whimper and he pulled back and laughed. “Like I said, I like you, Rose. Maybe we can work out some sort of compromise that will work in both of our favors.”
“What kind of compromise?” I was surprised I got the words out at all, considering that I could hardly breathe.
He ran his hand up and down my neck, his finger tips trailing down to my cleavage. “Meet me at The Trading Post, tomorrow night. Ten o’clock. You bring the flash drive and I’ll convince my partners this was all a huge misunderstanding. And if you’re lucky, I’ll make you grateful I did.”
“What if I can’t make it?”
Rage replaced his smile, his face exuding pure evil. “You don’t want to find out. Be a smart girl and come see me.” He released me with a shove, then flung open the back door so hard it smacked into the brick wall. The back of my head bounced off the wall just about the same time a vision started coming.
It was night and I lay on my back in the woods, my limbs at odd angles with a vacant expression on my face. The light of the full moon filtered through the trees, casting odd shadow shapes. The moonbeams lit up the small hole centered in my forehe
ad.
“I’m gonna die.”
I wasn’t dead yet, but apparently, I was scared witless because I just stood there, as if I waited for Daniel Crocker to change his mind and come back and take me with him.
Snap out of it, Rose. Move.
I needed to get it together. I had a little over twenty-four hours to come up with a flash drive.
Chapter Nineteen
I went back to the Magnolia Room and sat in a rickety folding chair in the rear. I’m not ashamed to admit I bawled my eyes out. I got a few stares, but I figured I was at a wake, it felt like an appropriate place to cry. An elderly woman brought me a box of tissues and patted my back.
“There, there child. It's the way of life, from ashes to ashes and dust to dust. It was Sloan’s time to go.”
It was Sloan’s time to go.
Was it my time to go? I didn't have a flash drive to give to Daniel Crocker. I had no idea what was supposed to be on the flash drive. Maybe I should go to the police.
“Let me get this straight, Ms. Gardner. Your mother and a bartender were killed all because of a flash drive a customer who showed up at the DMV asked for. And what is supposed to be on this flash drive?”
The police were out.
I was out of my league here. I had no idea what to do or who to turn to. And then I did. Joe. He’d offered to help me before. Maybe he could help me now.
I pulled my cell phone out of my purse and saw I had missed five calls and one message from Joe.
Rose, please call me back. Please. I have to talk to you.
I moved to the lobby and dialed Joe’s number. He picked up on the first ring.
“Oh, thank God. Where are you?”
“I’m at Sloan’s visitation.”
“You’re what?” His voice was cold. “You told me you hardly knew him.”
“I told you we had a dealing. I still hardly knew him.”
“Then what are you doin’ there?”
Getting accosted. “I don’t know Joe. It seemed like the right thing to do.” To my irritation, my tears started flowing again.
“Rose, are you alright?” His voice softened.
It made me cry even harder. “No.”
“Stay there. Let me come get you.”
I wanted to protest, to insist I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself, but I had been as brave as I could for the moment. I started to sob again.
“I’m comin’. Don’t leave. Just wait for me there.” His words were rushed, like he was already running out the door.
I found a chair in the lobby and wept in fear as I faced the inevitability of my death. Sunday had seemed so far away, but it was right around the corner. Would it hurt when I was shot in the head? I’d been so worried about leaving life, I hadn’t given much thought to the dying part. I cried even harder, slumped over in the chair, my face on my knees making the hem of my dress wet with tears and snot.
I felt hands around my arms, pulling me up and I couldn’t stop the shriek. I jerked away, wild and desperate. Daniel Crocker had changed his mind and came back to get me.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Joe said, pulling me up. “You’re okay.”
I collapsed into his chest, sobbing.
“Come on, let me take you home.”
He led me out the front door. He put his arm around my back, supporting me. I got in the front seat of his car and barely remembered the drive home, just his hand pulling my head to his shoulder, his hand on mine.
When we parked in the driveway, he took my purse and dug out my keys then got out and opened the door. I’d gotten out of the car at that point, stumbling in the dark and the gravel. He came over and picked me up with little effort, carrying me through the door. He kicked it closed behind him and placed me on my bed.
He leaned over, stroking my head, then kissed my cheek. “I’m gonna take Muffy out. I’ll be right back.”
I cried harder. What would happen to Muffy? I still hadn’t made arrangements for her.
Before I realized Joe had been gone very long, he was there, laying on the bed with me, his stomach to my back. When I finally calmed down, he handed me tissues from my nightstand.
I rolled onto my back and looked up at him.
He rubbed my cheek, looking down into my face. “As flattered as I’d be if you were this upset over me not showing up at the restaurant, I suspect this is about something else.”
I bit my lower lip looking up into his kind eyes. Could I trust him? “Remember when you asked me if I was in trouble?”
A variety of emotions crossed his face before he answered. “Yeah, but you wouldn’t tell me.”
I paused, still unsure where to start. Maybe I could start with the DMV and leave out the vision. “The day before Momma died, a man came into the DMV. I’d never seen him before.” How did I explain the next part without giving away my freak show? “He thought I recognized him. I didn't feel well and I fainted.” All of that was true. I just left the vision part out. “He left, but without his paper work, which I thought was really weird. The next night Momma was killed.”
Joe watched my face intently, a little too intently to suit me. What did he hope to hear?
I paused to regroup. Maybe this wasn't a good idea, after all. But how did I get out of it without looking like I was hiding something?
“You said you had a dealing with Sloan Chapman. What kind of dealing did you have?”
“I went to Jaspers on my date with Steve. Only Steve didn't really want to be there. So I went to the restroom and when I came back, he’d left. He told the waitress he didn’t feel well, but he paid for my dinner and for my cab ride home.”
“Sounds like a real gentleman,” Joe muttered sarcastically.
“Well, I guessed he didn’t have to do it, pay for my dinner and the taxi. My brother-in-law forced him into the date. Anyway, I went into the bar and decided to order a glass of wine, since it was on my list. The bartender, Sloan, was really sweet to me and helped me figure out what to order, since I didn’t know anythin’ about wine.”
I stopped again trying to read Joe’s expression. He looked guarded.
“While I waited for Sloan to bring my drink, the guy from the DMV showed up. He saw me in the restaurant and followed me into the bar. He said he was really good with faces but couldn’t place me. It happened after Momma’s funeral, after Aunt Bessie cut my hair, so I looked totally different. In fact, I still can’t believe he recognized me.”
Joe’s eyes softened and a tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Sure, your hair’s different and your clothes fit you better, but your face is still the same. You were pretty before you changed your hair, Rose.”
I blushed. I hadn’t realized he’d noticed me before I showed up on his front porch the night Momma died. “Well, he recognized my face, but couldn’t place me, and it really bothered him. He was friendly, a little too friendly, and Sloan told him I was his little sister and to get lost. Then Sloan called the taxi and I came home.”
“What happened the next time you saw Sloan?”
“Nothing, I never saw Sloan again.”
“What else?”
“What else, what?”
“That can’t be the end of your story. What else aren’t you telling me? What you told me isn’t enough to throw you into hysterical cryin’.”
I sat up, anger rising. “Why are you gettin’ so irritated? I’m telling you what I know.”
“No, you’re not. You’re lyin’ to me.” He sat up too, his eyes narrowing.
“There’s more to tell, but if you're goin’ to be ugly to me, I’m not tellin’ you anythin’.”
His face softened. He leaned his back against my headboard and pulled me into his arms, my cheek against his chest. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ll be quiet and listen.”
What did Joe McAllister have to gain from me? Why did he want to know my secrets so badly?
“Um…” My mind scrambled to come up with what to tell him. He knew there was more, I h
ad to tell him something. Joe rubbed my back, making me torn between enjoying his touch and being suspicious. “The Monday I went back to work, he came back. The woman I work with said he’d been in every day the week before, looking for something or someone. But the day I came back, he came to my counter, with his paperwork. He told me he knew Sloan wasn’t my brother.”
“How did he know that?” Joe continued to rub my back.
“I don't know, he just said he did.” Should I tell him that he thought Sloan was a cop? I began to think that the less I told Joe, the better. I’d tell him just enough to make him think he knew everything. “That night was the night someone broke in, and of course the police didn’t believe me.”
I suddenly pictured Joe standing in my door in only his boxers and scratches and welts on his head and back.
The intruder had on black clothes and a stocking cap. I’d hit him in the back and head with the broom. What if Joe was the intruder and stripped off his clothes and came to my door, telling me he got hurt tackling the guy?
“Go on,” Joe said, rubbing my back again.
My heart began to race. “Ummm…” I didn’t know what else to tell him.
“Why did you go to the visitation tonight?”
“You didn’t show up and I thought about the night Steve left and how guys kept standing me up, and it made think about Sloan so I thought since I didn’t have anything else to do I’d go and pay my respects.” I was rambling and talking too fast. He would figure out he was making me nervous. I forced myself to slow down. “So I did.”
“What happened?”
“Excuse me?”
“What happened at the visitation?”
“Nothin’,” I said, trying to sound innocent.
His arm tensed and he paused before he resumed rubbing my back. “Rose,” he cooed into my ear. “You can trust me.”
The way he said it made me almost think I could trust him. Almost.
“Nothin’ happened. It just made me think of Momma and I got really upset.”
Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes Page 20