by Sharon Sala
“Oh hell, Lucy, calm down. I need some money to lie low and I thought you’d be good for some. Don’t worry. I’ll just find a liquor store and pull a heist, and hope I don’t get caught. Course, if I do, people might find out that your worthless brother robbed a liquor store, and then where would you be?”
Lucy wanted to scream, but he’d found her weakness. She’d spent her whole life trying to live down where she’d come from, and with one visit Prince could bring it all down around her head.
“I’ll give you what cash I have and you’ll have to be happy with that,” she muttered.
“Depending on how much it is, it’s a deal. But if you’re short on cash, then I’m gonna be short on cash, and that heist becomes a viable possibility.”
“I’ll get my purse,” she said, and when he went to follow her, she turned and pointed. “Stay there and don’t touch anything! You hear?”
He grinned. “Yes, I hear just fine.”
She ran out of the room and came back seconds later carrying a large brown purse.
Prince saw it and frowned. “That’s one of them Coach purses. I know for a fact they cost a pretty penny, so you better have some cash money in it or you and me will be making a trip to your bank.”
Lucy took out her wallet, grabbed all the paper money in it and flung it in his face.
“There,” she screamed. “It’s over six hundred dollars. If you can’t make do on that, I’ll call the cops on you myself and the consequences be damned.”
He frowned again. He’d pushed her too far. He got down on his knees and picked up all the cash, stuffed it in his pocket and headed for the door.
“And don’t come back!” she screamed.
He slammed the door shut behind him and kept moving.
Inside, Lucy Duggan fell to her knees, then threw back her head and screamed. She’d tried hard—so hard—to keep her name above reproach, but as long as one member of her family still lived, it seemed that goal would forever be in jeopardy.
As she started to get up, she noticed a single dollar had fallen under the edge of the sofa. She crawled over on her knees and picked it up, then got up and put it back in her wallet. At least the son of a bitch didn’t get it all. She started to go to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, then turned around and went to the wet bar, poured herself a whiskey, neat, and downed it in one gulp. It burned good all the way down, so to be on the safe side she poured herself another one and knocked it back as quick as the first.
* * *
Linc woke abruptly just as his daddy was about to whisper the name of his killer in his ear. He sat up with a groan, his daddy nowhere in sight. He grabbed the TV remote and turned on the flat-screen, then lay back and flipped through channels until he found a weather report in progress. According to the forecaster, there was another storm front coming through the area, but this time without snow. He was thankful he’d finished construction and already moved in. Wintering in the travel trailer would have been a cold, miserable prospect. He started to throw back the covers, then stopped and ran his hand over the surface of the quilt Meg had given him. Knowing he’d slept beneath something she’d made gave him hope that one day he would be sleeping with her, as well.
He aimed the remote at the TV and hit Mute, then got up to check email. There were a couple of things he needed to confirm with the crew back in Dallas, and he wanted to catch the foreman before he left home.
Although the two rooms had held the heat well throughout the night, he needed to stoke up the coals and get a new fire going. He’d slept in sweatpants, but he grabbed a sweatshirt and pulled it over his head as he hurried across the floor to the stove and the wood stacked beside it.
After the fire was going he started coffee and popped a couple of slices of bread into the toaster. He got out the peanut butter and jelly, then turned on his laptop as he waited for the toast to pop up. He had an agenda today that was bound to open a floodgate of trouble, and he didn’t want to be sidetracked.
The toast popped up. He made himself a sandwich, washing it down with two cups of coffee as he ran through the email, then made a call to one of his two foremen, a man named Toby Sheffield. Toby was a fortysomething man with two ex-wives and four kids. He was as faithful with his child support payments as he was to the job he held with Fox Construction.
“Hey, Toby, it’s me, Linc.”
“Hey, boss. How goes it?”
“Finally got moved in but we’re expecting some bad weather. So fill me in on the project.”
“It’s good. I fired Ortiz.”
Linc frowned. “Why?”
“Stealing.”
“Shit. Make sure he doesn’t come back and try it a second time out of spite.”
“Already on it,” Toby said. “We poured concrete all day yesterday. As soon as it cures up another day or so, we’ll start framing.”
“Have you talked to Gerald about the other job site?”
“Yeah, last night. He said to tell you that the geological report on the subsoil came back. We’re in the clear, and the city inspector who was raising hell is now off our back.”
“Good. That’s what I like to hear. I’m going to be out and about today, but you have my cell number. Call if you need me.”
“Yeah, sure,” Toby said, and then added, “Hey, boss. Are you really gonna stay there?”
“I’m for sure staying until I finish what I came to do, but the road to Dallas runs both ways. I’ll be there off and on. Have no fear.”
“Okay...so, take care and good luck.”
“Thanks. Talk to you later.”
He hung up, made himself another sandwich and ate quickly, anxious to get down to Boone’s Gap before he changed his mind. Just before he left he sat down on the sofa and made a call to Aunt Tildy. She answered on the first ring.
“Hello?”
Linc grinned. “Hey, Aunt Tildy, it’s me, Linc. You must have been sitting on that phone.”
“I was just walking down the hall with a load of clean towels. I’ll admit it startled me some when it went to ringing.”
He chuckled. “Sorry about that. I won’t keep you, but I was wondering if you’d talked to your friend Beulah since we were up there. Has the propane been delivered?”
“Yes, I went up yesterday to check on her. Her aches are better, and her house was just as warm as could be. She had a fire going in the fireplace, stew cooking on her stove, and her heating stove burning, as well. She said she felt like a plutocrat, with all that luxury.”
“Good. I couldn’t help but worry about her. She’s sure a little bitty thing, isn’t she?”
Tildy laughed. “Honey, compared to you, we’re all little bitty.”
Linc laughed again. “I guess you’re right about that. Oh...one other thing, but I wanted you to know. I’m going down to Sheriff Marlow’s office this morning to get copies of the file they have on me. I barely remember anything after the house exploded.”
He heard Tildy sigh.
“So you’re ready to stir the pot, are you?”
“Yes, I’m ready.”
“I’m behind you all the way, boy. If you need anything, all you have to do is ask. Marcus was my brother. I loved him dearly, and I’d like to see his killers pay.”
Linc frowned. “Killers? I never thought of the guilty party as plural. Why do you?”
“You’re a big man, Lincoln, and so was Marcus. It would take more than one man to put him down.”
Linc’s stomach turned. “I wish the law had talked to you before they decided to arrest me.”
“Oh, the sheriff heard everything I had to say, just like he stood and listened to what your granddaddy was saying about you being at his place all afternoon. He said it wouldn’t make any never-mind to the jury, because we were your kin and would say anything to get you off, even though we kept saying we would never lie to protect Marcus’s killer, no matter who it was.”
Linc frowned. He’d been railroaded, but why?
“Wow. Between
him and my public defender, they already had me guilty as charged before the trial ever started.”
“There’s stuff to be told, for sure,” Tildy said. “Don’t forget, once you open this can of worms, you’ll need to start watching your back. If the killers still live here, they won’t want this rehashed.”
“Yes, ma’am. I will. So let me know if you need anything, will you?”
“And you the same,” Tildy said.
He hung up, dropped his phone in his pocket, then grabbed his coat and headed out the door, taking care to lock it behind him.
* * *
Meg felt aimless. She had two more quilts in different stages of progress. One had the batting and backing attached and was already on the quilt frame, so that if she got tired of cutting and sewing blocks she could sit and quilt for a while. But she had gotten up this morning feeling her life was in a loop, running over and over doing the same daily things: feeding chickens, sewing, feeding Honey, then going to bed and getting up the next day to repeat the tasks.
Just the effort it took to cook something decent to eat was beyond her. Ever since her mother had moved out, she’d gotten in the habit of eating on the run, and never at regular times. Sometimes she wouldn’t eat breakfast until nearly noon, then wouldn’t eat dinner at all and instead snack on whatever was easiest to make for supper. She needed some order in her life. She needed to get out of her rut and knew the only way to make something happen was to change what she’d been doing. After a quick check of the pantry it became obvious that if she was going to cook, she needed more than cans of soup and packets of tuna.
Honey followed her through the house, her head down, her eyes sad and droopy. Meg realized the dog was picking up on her attitude, and that made her feel even guiltier than ever. She sat down on the side of the bed, and Honey immediately sat down on her feet.
Meg laughed and quickly patted the dog’s head, then gave her ear a quick scratch.
“You look as mopey as I feel,” she said.
Honey looked up with her big brown eyes and then licked Meg’s fingers.
“Well, thank you,” Meg said. “I needed that good-morning kiss. And I need to go get groceries. Wanna go for a ride?”
Honey stood abruptly, wagging her tail and looking toward the hall.
“Give me a couple of minutes to brush my hair and put on some warmer shoes.”
While Meg began to change, Honey sat in the doorway, making sure she didn’t get left behind.
Meg put on a red sweater and jeans and then slipped into her brown fur-lined boots. She started to tie her hair back and then decided to leave it down. It would be warmer that way. She eyed herself in the dresser mirror, then finished the look with a swipe of lipstick called Ripe Tomato, picked up her shoulder bag and headed for the living room with Honey at her heels. She paused in the hall to get her coat and stopped at the door to set the security alarm, and then they were on their way.
The cold air was a slap-in-the-face reminder of the winter that was almost upon them. She walked the length of the porch to the attached carport, and then took the steps down two at a time and opened the back door of her car.
“Get in, Honey,” she said, and laughed when Honey barked. “You’re right. We’ve been hibernating alone too long when we get excited about a simple trip to the grocery store.”
As soon as the dog was inside Meg got into the driver’s seat and buckled up. Just the act of driving away from the house made her feel she was stepping out of a shadow.
When she reached the main road her thoughts went to Linc. She wondered what he was doing, if he’d started his investigation, and wondered if she would fit into the world he’d made for himself, or if she should stay back and consider him a part of her past.
About two miles from her house she met her brother James going up the mountain on his mail route. She honked and waved. He waved back and made a goofy face at her, which was typical. It set the mood for the rest of the trip. With Honey’s hot breath on the back of her neck and the idea that she was about to shift her attitude and focus, she was feeling good by the time she reached Boone’s Gap.
The small town was unusually busy, which she attributed to people stocking up in case weather and bad roads changed their options. She parked at Barney’s Groceries and gave Honey a command.
“Stay, Honey.”
The dog immediately dropped into the backseat and laid her head on her paws. By the time Meg got out and locked her door, the dog’s eyes were closed. Meg headed for the store with a bounce in her step that set her long hair swinging. To the eye, she was a tall, pretty woman on the go. Only she knew the turmoil in her heart.
She walked inside, waving at Louise, the checkout clerk.
“Meg! Good to see you out and about. Did you get healed up okay?”
“Yes, I did, Louise, and thank you for asking.”
“They catch that good-for-nothing Prince White yet?”
“No, not yet.”
“You be careful,” Louise said. “People like him are wild cards. You never know how they’re going to behave.”
“That’s for sure,” Meg said. “It still doesn’t make sense why he’d fixate on me after all these years.”
Louise shrugged. “Probably got drunk one night and let old wounds get the best of him. But no matter. He’s history. You go on and do your shopping, and pay attention in the produce aisle. We got bananas on sale. To my mind they’re a little too ripe for eating, but they’re just right for banana bread or banana pudding.”
“Thanks,” Meg said, and walked away smiling. Bigger grocery stores had large banners hanging from the ceilings and big Sale signs sticking up on all their displays. Barney’s had Louise.
She hadn’t made a list, so she began going down each aisle slowly, checking out what was on the shelves and adding items to her cart when the mood arose. She’d been there almost thirty minutes and was thinking about Honey waiting for her in the car when she heard someone whisper her name.
* * *
Sheriff Marlow was finishing up the paperwork to release Bo and Pete, the local drunks he’d arrested after a crash. They’d both bonded out, and were now sober and penitent, sorry as they could be with their decision to break into the Church of the Firstborn to bathe in the baptismal font so that when they went home, their wives wouldn’t know they’d been drinking. He signed his name, handed a copy of the paperwork to the bondsman and then told the jailer to let them go. A few moments later they came out, still apologizing to anyone who would listen.
Thinking he would finally get a chance to finish the breakfast he’d been trying to eat for the past two hours, Marlow picked up his ham-and-egg sandwich and sat down with a thump. Just as he was about to take a big bite, the door opened. He saw the man walking in and wrapped the sandwich back up.
“Didn’t expect to see you in town,” he said, eyeing the fine-looking gray Stetson and sheepskin coat Lincoln Fox was wearing and wishing he had an outfit like it.
Linc didn’t bother answering. He had an agenda, and that was all that mattered.
“What do I need to do to get a copy of everything in my case file?”
Marlow wasn’t surprised by the question, considering why Fox had come back, but he eyed his food regretfully. This was definitely going to take longer than he would have liked.
“That was eighteen years ago,” he said.
“I didn’t ask how long ago it happened. I asked for a copy of the report,” Linc said.
Marlow blinked. So the man was still pissed because he’d doubted his word about Prince White being the stalker.
“It’s in storage somewhere in the back room.”
“I’ll wait,” Linc said as he took off his coat and hat and sat down in a chair near the door.
Marlow sighed. “We don’t have a secretary around here. I’ll have to get it myself.”
Linc’s eyes narrowed.
Marlow sighed. “It’ll take a while to find. You can come back later, if you’d like.”
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“I’ll wait,” Linc said again.
Marlow glared, picked up his sandwich and took a big bite as he walked out of the room.
Linc glared at his retreating back. He didn’t care how pissed off the sheriff got.
He could hear voices coming from the back, then a lot of doors banging and the sounds of furniture or boxes being moved. He eyed a Wanted poster tacked up on a corkboard behind Marlow’s desk and then folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair.
Fifteen minutes passed.
Two people came inside looking for the sheriff, eyed Linc curiously and then muttered something about coming back later.
Five more minutes came and went before Marlow returned, the front of his shirt and pants smeared with dust and a file clutched in his fist.
“Gotta make copies,” he said, and headed for the copier.
Linc watched without comment.
Finally the duplicate was ready. Marlow slid a form across his desk and held out a pen.
“You need to sign this. It says I gave you a copy of the file.”
Linc stood, put on his hat and coat, and then headed for the desk. He signed, picked up the stack of papers and slid them into the file folder the sheriff offered. “Where do I go to get a transcript of the trial?”
Marlow’s eyes widened. Fox wasn’t messing around.
“The courthouse in Mount Sterling. If it was me, I’d call ahead so they’d have time to find it and all. Eighteen years is a—”
“Long damn time, especially if you were living in my shoes,” Linc said softly, and walked out the door, letting the wind slam it behind him.
Marlow flinched and then sighed. This was going to cause trouble. He could feel it.
Nine
Resisting the urge to read through it right now, Linc slid the file onto the seat beside him and drove to a Quik Stop to get gas. The wind was sharp as he got out of the truck. He settled his Stetson and tilted his head into the wind as he reached for the nozzle. A couple of men eyed him curiously as they parked on the other side of the pumps. He knew he looked more cowboy than local. So much the better. One man even caught his eye and nodded cordially. It was obvious no one recognized him—yet. When he went inside to pay, he handed the clerk even change and walked out without making eye contact, then drove down the street to Barney’s. He only needed a few items. Surely he could get in and out without raising too many eyebrows, although it was damn hard to be insignificant when you stood six foot eight.