by Avery Flynn
“The bastards.” She pushed the newspaper away. “They’re not just going to vote on the alcohol production moratorium, they want to start proceedings to seize the Sweet Salvation Brewery’s land. Tonight. We have to present our case during the public comment portion of the meeting, and we have exactly—” Miranda glanced down at her watch, “three hours to put a plan together.”
“Can they really seize the property?” Sean asked.
“They have a case because of eminent domain. They’re claiming the land is needed for an important public-private partnership that will affect the county’s tax base, thus making it a public project for the common good of Hamilton County. Never mind the fact that I’ve offered to give them the land to build a road for a small cut of the industrial park’s profits.”
“Which leads to this.” Sean pointed to another headline. Financial Troubles Plague Proposed Industrial Park.
The article started off with information about the Martin Industrial Park and the investors who were supposedly fleeing because of Logan’s mismanagement. About halfway through, it devolved into rumors about Larry Martin’s secret alcoholism and how the Martin family fortune was down to roughly two plug nickels. With each word she read, her chest tightened, and bile twisted its way up her esophagus. Everything was laid bare for the entire town to pick at like vultures until all that was left was the bones. She had to get to Logan before he saw the newspaper, if he hadn’t already. Shoving back her chair, she grabbed her purse out of her desk’s bottom drawer and threw her cell into the handbag.
“There’s more.” A dark look replaced Sean’s trademark neutral expression.
Miranda clutched her purse to her chest and waited for the next information bomb to detonate.
“He’s in cahoots with Carl.”
“What do you mean?”
“Saw the two of ‘em acting all buddy-buddy outside of the Spotted Pig last night. When they spotted me, they stopped talking and didn’t start again until I was driving out of the lot.”
Her mind reeled. Why would Logan be talking to the man who’d run her off the road? The same asshole who’d been against her since she arrived in Salvation and had tried to start a mutiny at the brewery? Doubt curdled her lunch. Logan had been trying to shut her down since day one. He’d turned her down for a loan, and he’d intimidated contractors not to work with her. She’d burst in on him with Tyrell Hawson after the mayor had promised to put her out of business. Was he just playing good cop to Tyrell’s bad cop? Had he put Carl up to running her off the road? And what about the bank? The yacht? Last night? Had that all been part of his plan to win the bet?
A lump formed in her throat as she considered the possibilities. She couldn’t get past the part of herself holding tight to the man who’d sat at her kitchen table and apologized for everything that had happened before. She believed in that man.
“I’m sure there’s a good explanation for all of this.” There had to be. The Logan she’d spent last night with would never betray her. She had to believe he could give her an explanation. She sucked in a fortifying breath of air and placed her palms flat on the desk, pushing herself into a standing position, ready to leave and go find out exactly what that explanation was.
Sean crossed his arms across his barrel chest. “Now they’re both in jail.”
“What?” She dropped back into her chair, and her purse slid out of her grasp, landing on the floor with a thunk. His words sucked the hope right out of her heart.
“One of the delivery guys just told me that Logan’s in a cell right next to Carl at the county jail.”
Sean could have kept talking, but Miranda wasn’t hearing his voice anymore. Her fingers flew across the keyboard until the Hamilton County Jail’s phone number showed up in her search. She misdialed twice before the call went through.
“Intake, this is Farley.”
“Is Logan Martin in custody?” Her question came out confident, but she squeezed her free hand closed to stop the shaking.
“Who’s asking?”
“Miranda Sweet.”
“Why do you want to know?”
Belligerent was so not the tone to take with her right now, not when her stress level was at the breaking point. Miranda opened her mouth to blast the jailer, but then closed it before she could give Farley a what-for. The information was what was important. She just needed to hear the word no, and then she’d know the whole thing was a crazy rumor being peddled by old farts at The Kitchen Sink hopped up on Ruby Sue’s sweet tea.
“Look, it’s public information. Is he there or not?” Her cell phone buzzed in her purse. She jammed the landline receiver between her ear and shoulder and dug it out.
“Yep, he’s here.”
Miranda flinched, squeezed her eyes shut, and pictured Logan with his hair tousled and eyes sleepy when he’d kissed her goodbye this morning. Her cell phone vibrated in her hand. Like a dog with its head hidden under the bed, she wanted to pretend everything was fine. But she couldn’t. The phone vibrated again. She cracked her eyelids open. A red circle with a white number one glowed next to the text message icon on her cell phone screen. Holding her breath, she clicked it.
Tried your work phone but it’s busy. Break in your case. Made arrest. Please call. Patrolman Warner.
“If that’s all—”
“What’s the charge you are holding Logan on?” Miranda tried to keep it together, but the words squeaked out.
“Assault and battery.” Well, trying to run her off the road would sure count as that.
She hung up the phone, too numb to utter good-bye or thank you, and stared at the framed dollar bill hanging on the wall opposite her desk. It wasn’t the first dollar from the first sale at Sweet Salvation Brewery. No, that would be too normal for her family. It was the first dollar her grandfather had made from bootlegging liquor decades before the brewery was even built. Logan’s cell at the county jail probably had PawPaw’s initials carved into the cinderblock walls.
Sean cleared his throat. “You okay?”
“No.” Even if she could elaborate about the vast queasy mess inside her, she figured Mr. No Public Emotions would not be the one to spill her guts to. She had fallen for the same asshole not once, but twice. The first time, her reputation had ended up in shreds. This time, it was her career and sisters that would pay the price.
She picked up the phone receiver again to call the state trooper, but she couldn’t force her fingers to dial. She locked her jaw and hung up the phone. She already knew everything she needed about Logan’s betrayal. A Martin’s duplicity was a tale as old as time; why wallow in the details of the latest example?
Natalie burst into the office, her eyes wide and her fingers twisted in her pearl necklace. “Have you heard about the meeting? What are we going to do?”
Glad to focus on something that didn’t involve her obliterated heart, Miranda plastered on her best I-can-fix-anything smile and cracked her knuckles. “Show Salvation just how good a Sweet can be.”
Logan paced the eight-feet-by-eight-feet jail cell, making his way from the bars to the window set high in the cinderblock walls. They’d taken his wallet and his belt, but at least he wasn’t in an orange jumpsuit. He stopped when his toes hit the wall, and not for the first time in the past two hours, he noticed the word Sweet scraped into the wall and wondered if Miranda’s people had carved it.
His gut tightened at the thought of her. As soon as he made bail, he had to find her and explain what had happened. How he hadn’t planned to punch Carl in the face, but the asshole deserved what he’d gotten. He’d meant to tell her what had happened and how he’d gotten Carl to confess last night, but after her kamikaze attack with the gnome and everything that followed, it just didn’t seem as important at first, and then he figured he’d have more time. Logan pivoted and headed back in the other direction. The swish of automatic doors sliding open halte
d his pacing. A deputy strode through and made his way to a desk in the far corner.
Finally. Logan rushed to the bars. “Is my dad here yet to post bail?”
“He came, but I sent him home. You can’t make bail if it hasn’t been set. Only Judge Carter can do that, and he’s gone home for the day.”
Using utmost care, Logan pressed his forehead against the cool bars, but what he really wanted to do was bang his head against them until he blacked out from the pain. “Gone home?”
The deputy nodded. “Yep, something about accompanying his wife to the county council meeting.”
“What meeting?” He asked the question, but deep inside he already knew the answer. Unable to stand still any longer, he prowled the cell like a caged animal.
“What am I, the damn newspaper?”
Logan jerked to a stop in the middle of the cell and spun around. Remembering the stories about people in high stress situations who lifted cars off babies, he eyeballed the cell bars. Something on his face must have startled the deputy, because his eyes widened and he took a step back.
Putting every ounce of menace he could muster into his face, Logan stalked to the front of the cell. “What meeting?”
The deputy flushed. “Someone’s got their panties in a twist and called a meeting to vote on banning alcohol production. Oh, and taking over the Sweet Salvation Brewery.”
And here he was stuck in a cell in the basement of the Hamilton County Courthouse, one block away from the county council chambers. He wanted to scream his frustration or, better yet, go all Hulk and smash through the walls. Neither of which was an option, all of which had dried up like the Red Oak Creek during a drought.
He sank down to the bunk and dropped his head to his hands. The thin mattress sagged under his weight. “I have to get to that meeting.”
“Well, unless they’re going to relocate the meeting to cell three,” the deputy drawled, “I’d say you’re shit out of luck.”
Chapter Nineteen
Miranda squeezed through the crowd gathered outside the county council chambers, ignoring the conversational buzz that fell silent when she neared and then rebounded louder than a football-field-sized pack of cicadas as soon as she passed. Anxiety itched up her spine, leaving a clammy trail of moisture in its wake.
“About time you got here.” Ruby Sue clamped her arthritis-gnarled hand around Miranda’s forearm. “Come on, Natalie and I saved you a spot up front. I had to threaten George Gunderson, but that old rust bucket finally moved his boney butt down a chair.”
Following the older woman’s lead, Miranda weaved her way through the folks clogging up the aisle to the front row. Natalie sat with her hands clasped in her lap, her jaw tense. Sean sat next to her. The unexpected support from the brewmaster hit Miranda right in the tear ducts, and her bottom lip trembled.
“Thanks for coming,” she whispered.
Sean nodded and the strip of skin above his beard line pinkened.
“If I could have your attention.” The council chairman, Sheldon Monroe, banged his gavel. “If y’all could take your seats, we’ll get started.”
The crowd milled in from the hall, taking up every seat in the county council room and then some. High school football games had fewer folks than were packed into the rows and along the walls. Usually, the homecoming game had the biggest attendance of any event in Salvation, but it looked like the Sweet family’s metaphorical execution was an even bigger draw. She could practically feel the weight of all the stares on her back. Unable to help herself, she threw a quick glance over her shoulder. Tyrell Hawson sat a few rows behind them, sporting a hateful gleam in his eye.
“Just ignore the idiots, like Mom and Dad always taught us.” Natalie patted her knee.
Miranda was about to turn and face front when movement by the door caught her attention. Hud and another man were in a heated discussion with Judge Carter that had attracted gawkers who weren’t even pretending not to be listening in.
Seeing Logan’s best friend was like being kicked in the ass by a goat, but in this case, the sharp pain was in her heart. She’d been a fool to believe Logan really cared, and she had to be every kind of idiot, because part of her still did, and she really wanted that part to be right.
Moron.
Ruby Sue delivered a sharp elbow into Miranda’s ribs, dragging her out of her mental ass-chewing. “I can only imagine what Carl Brennan looks like right about now. I tried to take a peek when I stopped by the sheriff’s office this morning, but they wouldn’t let me back to the holding cells. Talk about taking the fun out of small town living.”
Like an iPod stuck on repeat, Ruby Sue’s first words played on a loop in Miranda’s head. “What are you talking about?”
Only a blind man could miss the bloodthirsty glint in the older woman’s eyes as she rubbed her thick-knuckled hands together. “Logan found him at the Spotted Pig last night and beat some sense into him.”
None of this made any sense. He and Carl were co-conspirators. “Why would he do that?”
Ruby Sue narrowed her eyes. “Either you’re a lot dumber than I ever gave you credit for, or you’ve been sampling your brewery’s goods today for some backwoods courage. Which is it?”
“Logan went after Carl?” The words spilled out in a rush as she tried to comprehend Ruby Sue’s report.
“Yep, word at The Kitchen Sink is that he went to town on Carl, broke his nose, and got a confession out of him about trying to ram you off the road. Now I don’t know if it’ll hold up in court, but it’s got folks reconsidering things around here.”
Someone must have leaned against the thermostat, because a blazing heat enveloped Miranda, and her palms turned clammy, appropriate since her brain had turned to ash in her effort to understand. Logan had played her for the fool, pushing all her buttons in an effort to close down Sweet Salvation Brewery. Hadn’t he?
It hadn’t seemed that way when she’d woken up this morning and caught him staring at her while twisting her hair around his finger. The kiss that followed showed his intentions more than any words could. Still, doubt ate away at her like acid.
Dropping her gaze to the floor, Miranda fought to work through her confusion. “That can’t be…the bet.”
“Why are you repeating that tired nonsense?” Ruby Sue tsked tsked and shook her head. “Miranda Sweet, I am sorely disappointed in you. If I didn’t think it was temporary insanity brought on by this here mess, I’d be tempted to cut you off from my pecan pie.”
Miranda stood, intent on threading her way through the crowd to Hud, but the county council chairman banged the gavel. Indecision froze Miranda to the spot. Should she push her way to the back of the room and get the real story about Logan, or did she stay and argue to save the brewery and her future in Harbor City? As if her feet didn’t take orders from her frazzled brain anymore, she took a step toward the aisle.
Natalie’s fingers wrapped around Miranda’s wrist. “You can’t go up to the podium yet. You have to wait for them to call for public comment.”
Caught between a sister’s clueless guidance and her own uncertainty, she hesitated. The respite gave Judge Carter, Hud, and the third man enough time to squeeze through the crowd and out the front door. She tugged her arm out of Natalie’s grasp to follow them. The need to know the truth pushed her feet forward.
“Where are you going?” Natalie wound her finger around her rope of pearls.
The question stopped her in her tracks. If she left now, she’d miss out on her chance to talk to the county council. Could she really risk the brewery’s future by blasting out after them? What if Ruby Sue was wrong and Logan had been fighting dirty the whole time?
The gavel banged again, the sound reverberating down her spine. “Miss Sweet, if you will take your seat.”
Glancing around, Miranda realized she was the only one still standing. Too confused to be embarr
assed, she plopped down into her chair and scrambled to remember her plan.
The doors dividing the holding cells from the rest of the sheriff’s department whooshed open. Logan’s head snapped up from the cot where he’d been trying his best to stare a hole into the jail cell’s ceiling and escape.
“Looks like somebody up there likes you. Judge Carter came back to set your bail.” The deputy buzzed the cell door open. “Hud posted it. You’re a free man. Come on.”
Logan’s heartbeat pounded in his ears as he popped up from the cot and hustled to the open door. With any luck, he’d make it before the emergency meeting ended. He had little doubt Tyrell had rigged things to go down just like he wanted. After the exposé in the newspaper today, he may not have much sway in Salvation, but he was going to put all of it behind Miranda. Please let it work.
He crossed the threshold, hoping like hell he’d never see the inside of a cell again, and followed the deputy down the hall. Empty cell after empty cell on the left side, cinderblock wall and officer of the month plaques on the right. The deputy slowed as they approached the last cell.
“Wake up. Time to go before the magistrate judge and get your bail set.” The deputy punched in a code on a number pad, and the cell door slid to the left.
Carl, his nose stuffed with cotton, made it out into the hall, spotted Logan, and took a hasty step back into the cell. His left eye widened. The other eye, still purple and swollen, stayed mostly shut. “What the fuck? I ain’t going nowhere with this asshole.”
Logan straightened to his full height and grinned scornfully at the other man. “What’s wrong, afraid you’ll get your ass handed to you again?”
“You attacked me without provocation.” Spittle flew from his lips, and his face darkened to an angry plum color that emphasized the purplish-yellow bruises circling his eye. “I told the cops how we were just talking and you sucker punched me like the spoiled little rich kid you are.”