Cemetery Hill (Sunshine Walkingstick Book 3)

by Celia Roman

  “Thank you, Mary Alice,” I said.

  Her dark eyes went round as saucers and she blinked. “I haven’t been called that in a long time.”

  I sighed and shut my eyes. She had been called that and not too long ago, right about the time I introduced her to Trey, but it weren’t worth arguing over. Darkness overtook me and I slumbered for a while under the silver-gray branches of a grand ol’ oak.

  A heavy hand shook me awake. I risked opening a single eye and peered up at two shimmery images of one cousin wavering in front of me. “Hey, Trey. Where you been?”

  The words come out so slurred, I don’t reckon he understood me, ‘cause the next thing he did was pick me up and turn toward the creek.

  Panic ripped through pain, and I wrapped my fingers around the collar of his jacket. “Wait, no. Gotta get the body.”

  He stopped in mid-stride. “What body?”

  “Her. It.” I tried to glance around, only the world swayed so much, my eyes squinched shut automatic like, blocking out the bad. “Spearfinger. Rock monster?”

  “Well, shit,” he said.

  “Lemme down. I’ll help.”

  He muttered a coupla words he shouldn’ta knowed under his breath as he set me down. “Fine, but if you die out here, I’m not gonna be responsible for it.”

  I pretended not to hear him, and pretended even harder that if it weren’t for leaning on him, I woulda toppled over. No way was I making it outta the woods under my own steam, or not entirely, nohow. Still had work to do, though, work so important I’d find a way come Hell or high water.

  Trey knelt down beside Spearfinger and whistled low and long. “It’s gonna take some doing to get her outta here.”

  I peered at her with one eye closed, and still, there was two of her laid out on the ground at our feet. “There’s a lot of her to drag,” I agreed, and about regretted it when he stood up.

  He led me to the tree, sat me down, dug a bottle of water outta his jacket pocket, and handed it over. “Gonna get some rope. Back in a jiffy.”

  I drawed my legs up and leaned my forehead on my knees. Dear Lord above, was I tired. Ever thing ached, too, from my pounding skull to the bone deep bruises scattered along my body from head to toe. I couldn’t quite draw a full measure of air, try as I might. Hurt too much, but I didn’t have the wherewithal to figure out why.

  “Don’t go to sleep,” Trey hollered, jarring me from exactly that.

  I leaned the back of my head against the tree and waited for him whilst blinking at the patches of blue sky hovering overhead.

  Don’t ask me how, but we managed to drag Spearfinger outta the woods and into the bed of Trey’s truck, a four-year-old Silverado he picked up not long after meeting Old Mother. I’m pretty sure he done all the work. I weren’t in no shape to help him, that was for certain. All I cared about was getting the recently deceased outta the woods so’s I could use her to prove Fame’s innocence.

  Somehow, Trey caught on to my meaning and drove us straight to the sheriff’s house on the off chance he might be home at midday on a Friday. I ain’t ashamed to admit I had to have help getting outta the passenger’s seat and up the sidewalk leading to the one story, historic Arts and Crafts house Riley spent his childhood in. Sedate Christmas lights outlined the roof’s edges whilst real pine boughs tied together with floppy red bows adorned the porch rails. A lighted Christmas tree peeked through the curtains of one of the windows, blinking in random patterns at bystanders.

  Riley’s mama met us at the door, looking just so in a red twinset and black slacks. She took one look at me and gasped out a shocked, “Oh, my word, Sunshine. What happened?”

  Trey waggled a thumb at me. “Stubborn here had a run-in with a moving rock.”

  “A moving rock,” Anne murmured. Danged if her gaze didn’t sharpen on me like she knowed exactly what Trey was a-saying, and what he weren’t. “Trey, honey, you take her on in to the kitchen while I get something to clean that blood off of her.”

  Trey weren’t no fool when faced with a woman’s orders. He half-dragged, half-carried me into the Treadwell’s spotless home. I had a vague impression of haloed Christmas decorations, then another more clear impression of the kitchen. Dark gray granite countertops ran along two sides of the room, topping maple cabinets. A massive, handmade farm table dominated the center, and that’s where Trey decided to plant me. I dropped into a matching chair, one of them old-fashioned, cane bottom ones, and propped my aching head on a folded-up arm ‘til my two tormenters made me sit up straight so I could be tended.

  The next half hour might as well’ve been a year, for all the attention I paid. Anne’s soft voice whispered to me whilst her hands dabbed at my wounds. She made Trey strip off my jacket and lift my shirt, and her tongue clucked against the roof of her mouth.

  “Take her straight to the Emergency Room when you leave here,” she said, and Trey grunted what might’ve been an agreement.

  ‘Long about then, a door opened and closed, and the sheriff stepped into the kitchen, his expression hard and unreadable. “What’s this about?”

  I glanced up at him and struggled to rise, only to have two sets of hands trap me in the kitchen chair. “Got something for you.”

  Trey patted my shoulder, though his hard as rock gaze stuck on the sheriff. “I’ll show him.”

  I shook my head, swayed in the chair as Anne’s high end kitchen whirled around me. “No, I gotta.”

  Anne clucked her tongue again, and when I went to rise, was her hands steadying me, her shoulder supporting my arm, her subtle perfume tickling my nose as we trailed behind the men through the house and outside.

  “Sorry about making a mess in your kitchen,” I said. “I’ll come back later and mop it up.”

  “For goodness’ sake, Sunshine,” she said, and the reproach in her voice shut my mouth tight.

  What with them being ahead of us, the men reached the bed of Trey’s truck first. “My God in Heaven,” Sheriff Treadwell said. He smoothed a hand over his hair and turned to us, and from what I could tell, his skin was pale as Lily’s ghost.

  I waited ‘til Anne stopped us half a dozen feet from the truck. “There’s your killer, Sheriff.”

  He shook his head, glanced into the bed, shook his head again. “We have to run some tests first, make sure that’s what really did it.”

  “You do that.” My eyes cut from him to Anne and back again, and I added, “No funny business, ya hear? I won’t have you hiding this under a rock so you can pin all them deaths on my uncle.”

  The blood rushed into his face quicker’n spit and fire shot outta his eyes. “I’ll do my job, Sunshine. You can count on that.”

  I snorted, then winced, and in spite of ever thing, the pain and the weariness and the sheer horror of the murders, I managed to inject a little spitfire of my own into my voice. “Yeah, right.”

  Anne’s hand tightened on my waist, just enough to remind me she was there. “Time for you to get some help, darling. The men can take care of this now.”

  I thought I heard her add a muttered, “And I’ll take care of Chip,” under her breath, but I couldn’t be for certain. My head was roaring good now. Whatever Old Mother done to me was wearing off. I was a walking bag of aches and none too sure I could make it much farther, so I let her tuck me into the truck, accepted a gentle kiss on my cheek from her, and closed my eyes against the truck’s sway as Trey and Sheriff Treadwell pulled Spearfinger outta the pickup’s bed and dragged her somewhere for safe keeping.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Fame, Missy, and Gentry met us at the Emergency Room in Clayton’s lone hospital located up Germany Road a piece. I reckoned Trey called ‘em on the way there, whilst I was passed out, or maybe they was waiting for us to arrive. We huddled up together in the waiting room whilst the staff worked on getting a heart attack patient ready for transport to Northeast Georgia Medical Center in Gainesville.

  Riley come in fifteen minutes later and knelt down in front of me. He didn
’t say word one, but his lips thinned and them hazel eyes of his flashed, and I knowed I was in for a chewing out, soon as I was able to take it.

  A few minutes after that, the doctor come in, and I weren’t surprised none a’tall when he turned out to be the very one what treated me after Old Mother’s last debilitating vision, and again when Betty Walkingstick tore me up good.

  He took a wide legged stance, crossed his arms over his chest, and shook his head. “When the nurse told me you were out here, I had to come see for myself. What happened this time?”

  That flummoxed me good. How in the world was I gonna explain Spearfinger to a near stranger, let alone a rational, educated man like Doc Wu?

  Trey beat me to the punch. “Rock climbing accident.”

  The doc’s dark, tilted eyes zeroed in on my cousin. “I can honestly say I’ve never seen a fall do that to a human being without killing him, but what do I know? I’ve only climbed for a decade now.”

  With a long-suffering sigh, he pivoted on the ball of one sneakered foot and waved us to follow. Riley swooped me up and carried me into the care area, Fame hot on his heels, but I was too tired to deal with ‘em. Soon as Riley set me down, the doc shooed ‘em both out, and though he gifted me with a couple of skeptical looks, he doctored me up real good and never asked again how that so-called fall concussed my noggin, cracked three ribs, and bruised up about ever spare inch I had.

  Doc made me stay overnight in the hospital, out of spite I’m sure, then let me go home on the condition that I rest and, as he put it, stay away from anything sharp, long, round, rock, or animal.

  I don’t think that covered ever thing what could harm a body, but who was I to argue? I was just happy to make it home in one piece.

  The days between then and Christmas moved along whether I wanted ‘em to or not. I wrapped presents on the sly, made up a batch of dough for Henry’s favorite Christmas cookies for the freezer on the sly, had a homemade lunch with BobbyJean on the sly, and decorated a small tree on the sly.

  Fact is, I done ever thing on the sly ‘cause Riley dogged me like wet on water. He brung a bag of clothes over the night after the doc discharged me from the hospital and slept on the couch ‘til Christmas Eve day. When he was at work, he roped the boys into keeping an eye on me. Try as I might, I couldn’t hardly slip their guard.

  My own family turned traitor, and here it was the holidays.

  By the day of the Lord’s birth, or the day the Catholic church decreed Christians celebrate it anyhow, I could get in and outta bed without wincing, and even bend over to tie my boots. Real progress, that, considering how bad off I really was.

  Spearfinger near about killed me. I reckoned that was why Lily’s ghost visited me that morning, or maybe that was just my imagination getting the better of me. Either way, we all breathed a mite easier knowing her and Ferd could get on about their business in the after life, and Fame could get on about his business in the here and now, amongst the living.

  It was gonna be a good Christmas.

  That afternoon, whilst Riley was off doing some last minute shopping and ever body else was too busy to bother me, I pulled dough outta the freezer and baked some cookies for Henry. He couldn’t eat ‘em now, true, but I made a tradition outta laying a couple at the feet of the little angel guarding his spot on the trail. If I could get Riley to drive me, I might even take some to the headstone erected for him in the church cemetery by Preacher Robinson.

  Before I learnt what really killed my boy, I’d held onto the hope of finding his body someday and burying it proper like. That hope vanished the night my own grandma confessed to killing him. Having the stone there was nice, though. Was a right stand up thing the preacher done, having that gravestone set, and whilst it didn’t bring Henry back, knowing we was part of the community, a real part, went a long way toward easing the hurt of not having him here to love no more.

  Just as I was tucking the last batch of Henry’s Christmas cookies into the oven, my cellphone rung. I shut the oven door, tugged my phone outta my back pocket, and propped my hiney against the kitchen counter between the oven and the sink. My heart skipped a beat when I caught sight of the number, and I thumbed into it and said hello on a right hopeful note.

  “Hello, Sunshine,” Tom Arrowood said. “I’ve got some news.”

  “Good news?” I asked.

  “Unofficially, yes. The DA called today and said he plans to drop all charges after the holidays.”

  A sigh heaved outta me. “Thank the good Lord above.”

  “I know you’re behind this, Sunshine.”

  I bit my tongue there. Weren’t nothing I could tell him what’d help, and a lot what’d hurt.

  “I don’t know what you did,” he continued, “or how you did it, but whatever it was, your uncle owes you his life.”

  I thought over ever thing my uncle done for me over the years, not just taking me in, but stepping up and being the father I needed once mine was gone. He hadn’t chided word one when I got pregnant so young, hadn’t run me down for being a single mama or made me feel like I was nothing ‘cept a cherished part of his family. The way I figured it, he was the one what saved me, and it was about time I returned the favor.

  I cleared my throat and said, “Does Fame know?”

  “I’ve already talked to him and shared the news. I’m calling you because…” He sighed and something creaked on his end. “Look, Sunny, there’s no easy way to say this. Whatever you did cleared Belinda, too.”

  I pushed off the counter and stood ramrod straight. “What about her fingerprints being found all over that one crime scene?”

  A long pause followed, then Tom said, real even like, “Before you get mad, hear me out.”

  “I’m already mad,” I muttered, and that was the God’s honest truth, though whether I was mad at Belinda for being a snooty bitch, the system for letting her get away with it, or myself for contributing, I couldn’t tell.

  Tom rushed on, like as not ‘cause he was afraid I’d say more before he got his piece in. “When I found out about her fingerprints, I confronted her. She admitted to having Harley Jimpson move Lily and Ferd’s bodies out to that cemetery. It seems one of his grandchildren stumbled over them while out poaching deer. He called Harley, Harley called Belinda, and Belinda came up with what she thought was an excellent way to cause trouble for your family.”

  Oh, it’d done that all right, and as soon as I saw her again, I’d be sure to issue a little payback of my own. “That’s tampering with the evidence, Tom, and you know it.”

  “I do, Sunny. I—” He sighed again, sounding old and tired and plumb fed up. “I’ve already asked the DA not to press charges against her or Harley or his grandson.”

  “What?” I squawked.

  “She’s already in enough trouble.”

  “For pity’s sake!”

  “And she’s still my wife.”

  I slumped back against the counter and scowled at the Christmas tree tucked into the only spare corner in my living room. Tom weren’t the first man to be fooled by Belinda’s charm. He probably wouldn’t be the last neither, but right now, that didn’t help me forgive him for being a pure plumb fool over her.

  The tree’s lights blinked and sparkled, reminding me of the time of year. Christmas was the one day when a body had to let go of old grudges, I figured, and I could do that ‘til the holidays was over, even for an old enemy.

  After the holidays ended was another thing, but I didn’t have to tell Tom that.

  I mustered up some gratitude and managed to sound right sincere when I thanked him for all his help. We exchanged Merry Christmases and hung up, then I set my phone aside and marched into the bedroom, doing my best to forget for a while what a she-devil Tom’s almost ex was. Riley was gonna be here any minute now. If I wanted to get his presents under the tree without him knowing about it, now was the time for the doing. Maybe that’d jiggle me back into the Christmas spirit, or at least remind me of all the good I been blessed wi
th in my life.

  ‘Long about the time I pulled that last batch of cookies outta the oven, Riley poked his head in the front door, overnight bag in hand. He shut the door, wiped his boots off good, then dropped his bag on the end of the couch. “Smells good.”

  I hadn’t told him about this particular Christmas tradition yet, and weren’t rightly ready to. Some things was better showed than told anyhow. This might as well be one of ‘em.

  I jerked my chin toward his bag. “What’s that?”

  “A Christmas Eve gift.”

  My gaze crept toward the presents hid under the tree. “Is that so?”

  “Yeah. I’ve got something to show you first. You may want to sit down for this.”

  My heart tripped in my chest, and I patted it on reflex. That hadn’t sound good a’tall. I weren’t sure if I could handle no more bad news on top of what Tom already give me.

  Riley held out a hand to me. “C’mon, Sunny. It’s important.”

  I stepped forward and slid my hand into his, and let him lead me to the couch. We sat down beside each other in our usual spots, then he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a photograph. A young couple stared out of it, one wearing an ear splitting grin, t’other smiling shyly. Their heads tilted together the way young lovers’ do, and an eerie déjà vu washed over me.

  “I found this when I was helping Mom search for spare bulbs for her Christmas tree lights,” he said. “You know how she is.”

  I did know. She was one for getting ever thing just so, weren’t she? Hadn’t I just witnessed that myself, albeit when I was a mite too hazy to appreciate her efforts?

  I shifted on the couch and turned the picture so it caught the light better, but no matter how I turned it, the image stayed the same. There was my uncle sitting next to Riley’s mama with an arm draped around her shoulders, holding her so close not a single soul could doubt what was going on.