Joe cupped my cheek carefully with his hand. His thumb ran under the bruise on my cheekbone. “My feelings for you weren’t a lie. But that’s why I wanted to wait to sleep together, so there wouldn’t be any doubt in your mind.” He paused, searching my eyes. “I would do anything to prove it to you.”
The corners of my mouth lifted into a small smile. “I’m Rose. I’ve not done much living in my life, but I met this guy who makes me want to live it. He doesn't even think it’s strange I have visions, but he wasn’t who I thought he was.”
Joe’s eyes clouded.
“I hope to get to know the real him. And besides, he promised to help me fulfill my last wish, play in the rain.”
Joe’s face lit up right before he kissed me, almost making me forget about the rain. He was always making me forget things. He didn’t forget anything though. He grabbed my hand and pulled me outside. He kissed me again as the gentle rain seeped into our hair and clothes.
“Joe McAllister, I thought we were supposed to be playing in the rain.”
“I am playing.” He laughed before kissing me again, happiness radiating from him.
Just when I was about to suggest we go inside before Mildred got more of a show than she wanted, Joe whispered in my ear.
“One more thing. My name’s not Joe McAllister.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I didn’t want to go to work the next day, but I’d already taken two weeks off and couldn’t afford to take off any more days. I was out of vacation time. I had all of Dora’s money, but I hadn’t figured out what to do with it. So, for the moment, I pretended it didn’t exist.
I almost called in sick anyway. I looked like a domestic-violence victim with the bruises on my cheek and slightly swollen eye, making me wish I had gotten concealer when I bought my other makeup. It didn’t help that I was sleep-deprived. Between giving my statement to Hilary, who showed up around nine, and Joe keeping me up half the night, I was beyond tired.
But happy. For the first time, I felt like I actually had a life worth living.
I still hadn’t gotten my car back, so Joe drove me to work. I suspected he would hold off getting it as long as possible. He was trying to find a way to spend every minute he could with me before he went back to Little Rock in a few days. Neither one of us wanted to talk about it, but we also knew our relationship was too new to promise each other anything other than the vow to see each other as often as possible. It hung over our heads like a big cloud of loneliness.
At work, I settled into my desk and turned on the computer, making sure the drawers were stocked with forms, the printer full of paper. Suzanne sat down next to me a few minutes later and was surprisingly quiet. I expected her to mock my bruises or be hateful that I had just taken off another week, but she sat at her desk, subdued.
Just then, it occurred to me the DEA had never figured out who had the real flash drive.
I spent the morning trying to figure out how to get her to confess, like she'd tell me she had a flash drive wanted by law enforcement officials and crime lords. She wouldn't even tell me what she had for dinner the night before. But she seemed sad, so I tried being nice.
“Is everything okay?” I asked in a moment when neither of us had clients.
“What do you care?” she asked with a sneer, but I heard the tears in her voice.
“Look, Suzanne, I know we’ve had our differences, but I can see you’re upset and I just want you to know if you need someone to talk to, I’ll be happy to listen.”
“Why would you do that? I’ve been nothin’ but mean to you.”
“Because you look like you’re hurtin’.” I surprised myself when I realized it was true. I wasn’t just trying to get information from her.
Customers appeared at both of our counters and we were busy for another half an hour before we had a rare lapse close to noon.
Suzanne looked my direction, her eyes shimmering with tears. “My boyfriend left me last night. With my best friend. I never saw it comin’.” She bit her lip as her chin quivered.
I handed her a tissue. “I’m so sorry, Suzanne.”
“I thought he was different.” She blew her nose and looked at me, narrowing her eyes. “Honey, don’t let no man do that to you.” She pointed to my face. “They say they love you and they’re sorry, but they’re just mean, selfish sons of bitches. You can do a whole lot better than that.”
My mouth fell open in shock. If someone had told me two weeks ago that Suzanne would be nice to me, I would have suggested they try to sell me some snake oil, because I would have been far more likely to buy that. But I’d changed, and I realized sometimes people acted mean because they were hurting. Suzanne had obviously been hurting for a long time.
I thought about telling her I didn’t get my bruises from my boyfriend. The Weston Garage bust had been big news. Daniel Crocker had been locked up in the hospital while he recovered from dog bites and a gunshot wound to his leg. He would soon face multiple charges that included murdering Sloan and my Momma, but that hadn’t been released yet. Amazingly enough, my name had been kept out of it. But I had to wonder how Suzanne knew about my boyfriend. I hadn’t told anyone. The person with the flash drive would probably know a lot about me since I took the fall for him. Or her.
We got busier and I didn't have time to think about it. Two o’clock rolled around, when I usually took my lunch break. I’d brought my lunch since Joe would be tied up with official state police stuff. He was still waiting to hear what his punishment would be. Joe said he didn't care. Let them fire him, he said. But the look in his eyes told me it would hurt him a whole lot more than he’d admit.
I sat at the table in the tiny break room, looking at the bulletin board. One of the other employees had posted pictures of her teenage son from his high school graduation. Betty had posted pictures of her grandkids, right next to the invitation to her retirement party. She only had a few weeks left.
I pulled my turkey sandwich out of a brown paper bag, courtesy of Joe. He was appalled at the lack of food in my house and insisted on packing my lunch. When I pulled out an apple, a note fell out onto the table, written on the back of a short grocery store receipt.
I'm counting the hours until I see you tonight.
Joe
I wondered again how I got so lucky. I had a smile on my face when Betty walked in.
“How’re ya doin’?” She asked, sitting down in chair next to me.
“Pretty good.”
“Ya look like your doin’ really well after all ya been through. I didn’t expect ya to be in today.”
In the middle of taking a bite of my apple, I nearly froze. Was she talking about Momma or the weekend?
“Ya know, if ya need more time off, you can take it without pay. I know it’s against the rules, but considerin’ all ya been through…” She patted my hand, giving me a look of motherly compassion.
My heart raced. “So Betty, you must be excited about your retirement. Do you have any big trips planned?”
“Nope, not unless ya count movin’ as a trip. We're movin’ to Dallas, to be close to my kids and grandbabies.”
I suddenly remembered Betty had a son who moved to Dallas before I started at the DMV. He had been arrested for drug possession and trafficking right about the time I started, five years ago. It wasn’t any secret he’d been involved in a gang. I racked my brain, trying to remember his name. Bobby Joe.
“I bet you’re excited about spending more time with those grandbabies,” I said, taking a nibble of my sandwich, trying to choke it down along with my anxiety.
Betty’s face lit up. “Oh, they’re getting so big without me. I’m movin’ down the street from ‘em. I’ll get to see ‘em every day.”
My heart in my throat, I asked. “How’s Bobby Joe? He still at Hutchins Prison?”
Betty’s mouth and eyes froze in her smile but the sparkle vanished. She looked like a wax replica of the smiling Betty who was there a moment ago.
“He’s
doin’ just fine. Why’d ya ask, Rose?” She still appeared friendly, but her left eyelid began to twitch.
A tight smile hardened on my face. “I dunno, I was just thinkin’ about him.”
She continued watching me with her plastered-on smile and I lost my appetite. “Well, I need to get back to work,” I said, getting up and throwing my bag in the trash. I had forgoten Joe’s note on the table and reached over to pick it up.
“Is that from your new boyfriend?” she asked, her words like imitation maple syrup. They sounded sweet, but left an artificial aftertaste. “Ya waited so long for him. It’d be a shame if ya lost him so soon.”
I turned around and hurried to my desk, scared witless. What did she mean by that? I reached into my drawer, to get my cell phone out of my purse and send Joe a text message, but as soon as I opened the drawer I remembered I didn't have my cell phone. For all I knew, it was still at The Trading Post, stuffed under a counter. I couldn’t call him on the DMV phone. For one thing, personal calls were strictly forbidden. For another, if I got on the phone, Betty would surely come over and investigate.
I just had to wait for Joe to pick me up at five o’clock. It was two-thirty now; I could surely last a few more hours.
We were slammed with customers at the end. It was a good thing because it kept me busy, but I couldn’t concentrate. Suzanne gave me weird looks and Betty looked at me with a knowing expression that looked more and more grim the closer it got to five.
When the last customer left, Betty locked the front doors and she walked over to my counter. “Rose, could ya stay a little late so we can discuss your vacation situation?”
It was such a reasonable request, how could I refuse? “Um,” my tongue stumbled, searching for words, “Joe’s pickin’ me up. I don’t wanna keep him waitin’.”
Betty smiled, the corners of her mouth lifting up, but her eyes cold and hard. No one but me seemed to notice. “That’s okay, honey. It won't take but a minute.”
Everyone packed up their belongings and headed for the back door. I started out the door, too.
“Rose,” Betty called. “It’s only gonna take a minute.” Her words were thick and sweet like honey off a comb, yet I heard the threat that hid beneath.
I was already out the door, my heart beating frantically while I searched the parking lot for Joe’s car. “I was just lookin’ for Joe. I wanted to tell him I’d be another minute.”
“Come on, darlin.’” Her grip told me she wouldn’t take no for an answer. Before she pulled me in, I dropped my purse to the ground, propping the door open.
“Now, let’s just go to my office, shall we? I have some paperwork ya need to fill out.”
“But Joe…”
“Didn’t I tell ya? Joe called and said he was gonna be a few minutes late. But I told him that I needed to keep you for a bit and I’d bring you home.”
My heart fell into a pit of fear in my stomach. I pulled harder, knowing full well I’d look like an idiot if I was wrong about Betty. Who would believe it? This was Betty, everybody’s mother, yet self-preservation overrode idiocy as I struggled against her grasp. In the end, it was pointless to struggle. Betty was taller than me and outweighed me by a good seventy pounds.
“Rose, if ya just cooperate, this’ll all be done in a minute and ya’ll be free to go.”
She dragged me into her office and shoved me into her chair. A piece of paper and a pen sat on the desk. I looked up confused.
“I need ya to write me a note. Then you’re free to go. That sounds okay, right?”
I nodded, my chin trembling, to my disgust. When was I ever going to be strong?
“You can thank your boyfriend and his love note for this idea.”
I picked the pen up in my hand and tried to calm my panic. She wanted me to write a note, how bad could that be?
“Okay, now start writin’. I, Rose Gardner, confess to possession of the flash drive.”
“What?”
“Write.” It was the first time I had ever heard Betty sound really mean.
“Why would I do that?” I asked. She had lost her mind.
“I know how much ya love that sister of yours and her kids. It’d be shame if somethin’ happened to ‘em. Now write.”
I had pinned my hopes on Joe showing up, but that dream was gone. I had to go along with her until I could figure out how to get away. I wrote, my handwriting looking like scribbles from my shaking hand.
“That’s good, makes ya look upset.” Betty said looking over my shoulder. She made me write a confession admitting to owning the flash drive, destroying it, and duping Daniel Crocker. “Now, they’ll think ya did it and they’ll stop lookin’.”
“You didn’t really destroy it, did you, Betty? Where is it?”
“It's in my safe deposit box. After I made my deal with Sloan, I realized I could get more money for it in a bigger city.”
“I don’t even know what’s on it!” I cried out in frustration. “If I'm gonna die for a stupid piece of plastic I should at least know what's on it.”
“Information about several gangs in Dallas and Houston, their weak spots, their business activities and partners. Interestin’ stuff.”
I realized she didn’t deny I was going to die. I felt nauseated. “And you got it from Bobby Joe?”
“Yeah, stuff he knew from the gang he was in, other information he stumbled upon in prison. He finally came through for his Momma. Are ya done?”
I handed her the paper and she read it over. “Okay, looks good, let’s go.”
I got up and she grabbed my arm again, leading me out of the office to the back door. “Where are we goin’?” I asked as we walked through the darkened back room.
“We're goin’ to set up your suicide.”
I thought about digging in my heels and trying to fight her, but figured I had a better shot at getting away outside. Fear made my stomach churn. Maybe I could throw up on Betty and work it into an escape plan.
The cracked back door made Betty stop.
“How’d that door get propped open?”
She swiveled her head around, then stuck her foot forward to kick my purse out of the way. She was promptly tackled by none other than Joe. I barely got my arm out of Betty’s grasp before she tumbled to the ground.
You would think it would have been an easy match for Joe, but Betty was scrappier than she looked. It took Joe a good minute to get her handcuffed.
“Are you okay?” he asked me when he finished, panting from his exertion.
I nodded. “What are you doin’ here? I thought Betty said she’d bring me home.”
“She did, but I didn't want to wait, so I came by anyway and found your purse in the door.” He helped me outside and around Betty, who lay rolling around on the ground. “You know, you lose purses more than any other woman I’ve ever met. What’s this, three in one week?”
I glared at him.
He pulled me into a hug. “I didn't think you’d just leave your purse in the door, in spite of your track record, so I snuck in and listened.”
“You left me in there with her?” I pulled back in dismay, looking up at his face.
“Sorry.” He looked sheepish. “But it seemed safer than comin’ in. I was ready to act if I needed to.” He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss. “Surely, you’ve figured out I wouldn’t let anything happen to you if I could help it.”
He was right. I knew he’d risk his life to save me. He already had and his job, too. I heard sirens in the distance.
“Henryetta’s finest on their way.” Joe snorted. “I called them once I knew what was going on, even though I told them no sirens. They sure love their sirens. I'd dare to say they’ve seen more action in the last couple of weeks than they’ve had in the past ten years.”
I laughed. “I know I sure have.”
Joe laughed too then gave me a serious look. “Rose, it’s only just begun, you know.”
I didn’t know if he meant the action with criminals or the acti
on between the two of us. I was just about to ask, but then he kissed me…and I just plain forgot.
TWENTY-NINE AND A HALF REASONS
Coming June 2012
Acknowledgements
First, I want to thank my children, especially my younger ones—Julia, Jenna, Ryan and Emma—for their patience, or at least their tolerance of all the time Mommy spends in front the computer working. I’m sorry for the literally countless times you’ve called my name and I didn’t hear you because I had my headphones in. Mommy loves you.
Second, many thanks to my alpha readers for Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes: Brandy Underwood, who’s read every novel I’ve written, God love her, and isn’t afraid to tell me when something doesn’t work. And Kristi Eggleston who beta read a previous book, Chosen, and loved it so much that she eagerly volunteered to read again. My goal was to make her love this book as much as Chosen.
Third, Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes wouldn’t be the book it is today without the invaluable help of my critique partners—Trisha Leigh, Eisley Jacobs and Kathy Collins. They loved this book and believed in it as much as I did, so much so they weren’t afraid help me make it better. A special thanks to Trisha for not only being a crit partner but a friend, who’s watched me laugh and cry (literally) over this book and offered me wine and encouragement. She always believed it was “the one.”
And lastly, thank you to my family, friends and blog readers of my family blog, There's Always Room for One More, who didn’t call me crazy when I announced I was going to write a novel for NaNoWriMo in November of 2009. Three books later I had Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes. Your encouragement and love for all the stories I write keep me going.
That and the voices in my head.
About the Author
Denise Grover Swank lives in Lee’s Summit, Missouri. She has six children, two dogs, and an overactive imagination. She can be found dancing in her kitchen with her children, reading or writing her next book. You will rarely find her cleaning.
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