Poisoned Ground Series, Book 6

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Poisoned Ground Series, Book 6 Page 11

by Sandra Parshall


  The crowd exploded. Boos from the pro-development side echoed off the high ceiling, drowning out the shouts from the anti-development people.

  Tom marched over to Rachel, his face tight with anger and frustration. “Rachel, what are you doing? You’re just making matters worse.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t sit here and listen—”

  The noise cut her off as both sides hurled insults and threats. People streamed from the bleachers and onto the gym floor, headed for a clash.

  “Will you please go home?” Tom yelled at Rachel. “I’ve got a job to do. I can’t protect you.”

  Joanna gripped Rachel’s arm and shouted in her ear, “Let’s get out of here.”

  Rachel, Joanna, and Holly edged through the swarming bodies and made it to the exit. Pushing open the door, Rachel gulped fresh, cool air.

  Joanna, grim-faced, didn’t speak until the door closed behind them. She stuffed her fists into her jacket pockets and hunched her shoulders. “What am I going to do? How am I going to stop this?”

  “You’ll stop it by saying no,” Rachel told her.

  “That’s right,” Holly said. “Nobody can force you to sell your land.”

  “Not directly.” A gust of wind blew Joanna’s hair across her face, but she didn’t bother to push it aside. “It’s obvious what they’re doing. They think if they get everybody mad at me, they’ll scare me into selling. I’m going to need a stiff backbone to stand up to them.”

  “The Joanna I know has plenty of backbone,” Rachel told her.

  The gymnasium door burst open and a dozen people poured out. Rachel, Holly and Joanna hurried ahead of them into the parking lot.

  After they’d gone ten yards, the men and women coming up behind suddenly surrounded them, pressing close. A muscular young man jostled Joanna and almost knocked her off her feet. Rachel grabbed her arm to steady her.

  “Hey!” Joanna lunged and caught the back of the man’s jacket as he passed. “Do you need a lesson in manners?”

  Without breaking stride or looking around, the man jerked his jacket free. The wind carried his mocking laughter back to them.

  A heavy middle-aged woman bumped her shoulder against Rachel’s. When Rachel saw a man moving in on Holly, she pointed a finger at him and warned, “If you touch any of us again my husband will arrest you for assault.”

  The man stepped back, raising his hands and making a show of mock terror. “Ooh, I’m scaaaard of the sheriff’s wife.”

  “You should be.” Rachel linked arms with Joanna and Holly and they walked on. How strange it felt to be protecting Joanna. The other way around felt more natural.

  As they walked up to Joanna’s green Cherokee, her face crumpled like paper in a fist. “God damn it. Will you look at that?”

  Somebody had painted SELFISH BITCH on the rear of the SUV with white paint, so fresh it still dripped onto the pavement.

  “That’s not all they did.” Rachel pointed at the rear tires. Both bore long, ragged slashes and were already halfway to flat.

  Holly darted around to the front of the vehicle to take a look. “These are cut, too.”

  “I’ll drive you back to the horse farm,” Rachel told Joanna. “You can send a couple of your men over to deal with this.”

  Joanna nodded, but for a moment she didn’t move. Staring at her damaged Cherokee, she said in a quiet voice, “I’m lucky, I guess. I’ve pissed off a lot of people. I could’ve ended up like Lincoln and Marie.”

  Rachel didn’t say it aloud, but the first thought that came to mind was, You still could.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The crowd shoved and shouted, lobbing insults and threats, and a couple of scuffles broke out, but Tom and the deputies managed to steer everybody out the door to the parking lot without bloodshed. Tom was damned glad he’d banned guns at the meeting.

  Lawrence Archer, Robert McClure, and the seven county supervisors had formed a protective circle around the scale model of the proposed resort while the room was being cleared. Archer’s smirk of amusement never faded.

  After deputies escorted the last of the audience from the gym, Tom strode over to the men. “I’d advise you to wait a few minutes for people to leave before you take all this out.” He gestured at the display and the podium. “So you don’t start the whole shouting match all over again in the parking lot.”

  Archer’s grin broadened. “You and your men are very efficient,” he said to Tom. “That looked about as easy as herding cats.”

  God, what an idiot. “This project’s pushing a lot of hot buttons with these people. I hope you’ve gotten some idea of how divisive it is.”

  Tom saw McClure and the commissioners stiffen, getting ready to cut him off if they had to.

  Archer waved a hand dismissively. “I’m used to it. We go through a version of this everywhere we build. There’s always somebody who thinks any kind of development’s a bad idea. But the majority’s usually in favor. We’ve never had to drop our plans.”

  “Is that right? Have you ever caused a murder before?”

  “Now hold on, Bridger—” McClure started.

  “Murder?” Somehow Archer managed to frown without losing his general air of condescending amusement. “Are you saying we’re responsible for somebody being murdered?”

  “Ask Mr. McClure.” Tom flicked a hand in the banker’s direction. “He can tell you all about it. He was nearby when it happened.”

  McClure shook his head. “You can’t blame the Kellys’ deaths on this project. Do your job and find out the real reason they were killed, and stop throwing around wild accusations.”

  “I don’t have to be told to do my job,” Tom said. “I hope it turns out the motive was personal. I hope the Kelly shooting was an isolated crime, and when we make an arrest that’ll be the end of it. But I’m starting to think it was just the beginning of something a lot worse.”

  “That’s just…that’s absurd,” McClure sputtered.

  Ellis O’Toole, the county board chairman, glared at Tom from behind his thick bifocals. “That is an irresponsible statement, Sheriff Bridger, completely unfounded, and I don’t want to hear that you’re spreading that kind of negative opinion around.”

  “We can’t ignore what’s going on here,” Tom said. “This is stirring up a lot of anger and resentment on both sides. A couple who refused to sell their land were murdered yesterday, and I’m worried about what’s going to happen next. Some people are so damned determined to force others off their land and see this deal go through, I don’t think they’ll stop with words.”

  Archer made a gesture of innocent helplessness, palms up. “Maybe Packard should just pull the plug on this project right now.”

  You son of a bitch, Tom thought. The guy wasn’t capable of straight talk. The minute he’d met Archer, he’d known what kind of man he was: slick and slippery, always polite and ingratiating, phony enough to turn any clear-eyed person’s stomach. McClure and the supervisors had dollar signs flashing in their eyes, and they weren’t seeing anything clearly.

  O’Toole rushed to reassure Archer. “Our sheriff is imagining things. The government of this county supports growth and development and new jobs for our residents.” He fixed a cold look on Tom. “Do your job and leave the business matters to us. And find a way to control that wife of yours.”

  Tom bristled. He was going to give Rachel hell when he saw at her home, but he wouldn’t put up with the likes of Ellis O’Toole criticizing her. “My wife is a grown woman with her own opinions. The county board doesn’t tell her what to think.”

  Tilting his head upward, O’Toole squinted at Tom through the bottom of his bifocals. Then he grasped Tom’s arm and led him a few feet away from the other men. Startled, Tom didn’t resist.

  O’Toole kept his voice low but masked none of his anger. “There’s one thing the board can do
, and if you’re smart you’ll keep it in mind. An election put you in office, but if you give us cause, the board will find a way to remove you.”

  ***

  “Will you go in with me?” Joanna asked as Rachel pulled her Range Rover into the driveway. “Maybe they’ll act like civilized people if you’re there.”

  “I have to go pick up Simon. He’s spending a few days with us. Besides, what influence would I have on the Kellys’ son and daughter? I’m a stranger to them.”

  “Exactly. They might tone it down in front of somebody they don’t know.” Joanna unbuckled her seat belt. “Please, honey, just come in for a minute.”

  Rachel wasn’t keen to walk into another verbal brawl, but she had to admit she was curious about Ronan and Sheila Kelly. Ronan had stayed at Joanna’s house overnight. Sheila had arrived that morning, and according to Joanna they’d started bickering the second they landed in the same room. On the drive back from the meeting, Joanna voiced a fervent wish that one or both would be gone by now, but two cars Rachel had never seen before sat on the farm road in front of the house.

  “Please,” Joanna repeated. “I’ve had all the screaming I can take for one day.”

  With great reluctance, Rachel killed the engine and climbed out.

  The second Joanna swung the front door open, her golden retriever, Nan, and her little mutt, Riley, bounded out, followed by the Kellys’ dog, Bonnie. Rachel was afraid Bonnie would take off for home, but she seemed content to stay in the yard with the other two.

  “It’s half mine,” Ronan Kelly was saying as Joanna and Rachel walked into the living room. “I have as much control as you do.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Sheila said. “Can’t you at least wait until they’ve been buried? We have a funeral to plan. Not to mention helping Tom find out who killed them. I’m not going to talk about property and money right now, and that’s final.”

  Joanna raised her voice to be heard over their continuing argument. “Can y’all stop fighting long enough to meet my guest?”

  Startled, they snapped their heads toward Joanna and Rachel.

  Tall and attractive, both sister and brother had the same olive skin tone and coal-black hair that gave Tom and Holly their distinctive appearance. These were among the few people Rachel had come across in Mason County who were recognizable as Melungeon.

  Joanna introduced Rachel.

  Sheila stepped forward and offered a hand. “Hi, I’m Sheila Hayes, Lincoln and Marie Kelly’s daughter.”

  When they shook, Rachel noted that Sheila looked exhausted and puffy-eyed from crying. She appeared calmer than her brother, though. Ronan gave Rachel a moist, jerky handshake and regarded her as if she were an unwelcome interruption.

  “I’m sorry about your mother and father,” Rachel said. “They were good people.”

  Both murmured their thanks, then stood for a moment in awkward silence. Rachel expected them to say something about the horror of losing both parents to murder, but neither spoke.

  “I have their rabbits,” Rachel said. “I can bring them to you anytime you—”

  “No,” they said in unison.

  “You don’t want them?”

  “I can’t take a couple of rabbits home with me,” Ronan said, with no further explanation.

  Sheila added, “I couldn’t possibly take them either. My husband and I are both attorneys. We work eighteen-hour days. We don’t have time for pets.”

  “Oh, really?” Joanna said. “And what are you going to do about that dog that doesn’t have a home now? Linc and Marie doted on her. They’d want her taken care of.”

  Sheila and Ronan exchanged a glance, as if each was waiting for the other to do the right thing.

  Joanna threw up her hands. “All right, if that’s the way it is. I guess I just acquired another dog.”

  “And what do you want me to do with the rabbits?” Rachel asked.

  Ronan gave a couldn’t-care-less shrug and Sheila said, “Does it matter, really? I mean, they’re just rabbits. Maybe you could turn them loose in a field somewhere?”

  These two, Rachel thought, must have been dropped into the wrong nest when the stork made his rounds. They couldn’t be more different from their gentle, animal-loving parents.

  Obviously reacting to the expression on Rachel’s face, Sheila hastened to correct herself. “No, no, of course you couldn’t do that, it wouldn’t be humane. Maybe the Jones sisters might like to have them. They have quite a menagerie over there.”

  “They’re vegetarians, so at least they won’t cook them for dinner,” Ronan said, grinning as if he’d made a joke.

  “I’ll ask.” Rachel didn’t trust herself to say more.

  “So how did the meeting go?” Ronan stuffed his fists into his pants pockets. “Did it turn into a free-for-all?”

  “More or less.” Joanna peeled off her barn jacket and flung it across the back of the sofa. “A lot of shouting. Somebody vandalized my Cherokee, and now I have to get it towed back here.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” Sheila murmured.

  “You know,” Ronan said, “you really ought to start thinking about taking that offer from—”

  “For God’s sake,” Sheila snapped, “can’t you give it a rest?”

  “I’m just saying it’s a hell of a lot of money. An offer like that won’t come along again.”

  Her face flushed with anger, Joanna crossed her arms and fixed a steely glare on Ronan. He seemed reluctant to meet her eyes, his gaze jumping from one spot to another. Rachel wondered if she could escape and go home without any of them noticing. But Joanna would probably strangle her if she tried.

  “This isn’t the time or place, Ronan,” Sheila said.

  “She ought to know that everybody around her is selling.”

  “Do you think she doesn’t know that? She lives here, for God’s sake. And I thought I made it clear that you’re not going to pressure me either.”

  “Why the hell should we wait? The property’s in trust. It’s already ours. We can sell it today if we want to.”

  “I’m not going to make a decision now, Ronan. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  Ronan reached toward his sister with open hands, and for a second Rachel feared he was going to grab her. But he curled his hands into fists again and jammed them back into his pockets. A muscle in his cheek twitched. “You don’t have any use for the place. You’re not going to come back here to visit now that Mom and Dad are gone. You’ll never set foot in Mason County again.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “No, it’s not, is it?” Ronan’s voice rose to a near shout. “Sticking it to me, that’s your point. Anything you can do to drag me under, I can count on you doing it.”

  “Oh, please. You sound like a five-year-old.”

  In the space of a second Ronan pulled a fist from a pocket and aimed it at his sister. Rachel and Joanna both stepped closer to intervene, but Sheila stood her ground, unfazed.

  At the last instant, Ronan uncurled a finger and stuck it in her face. “You’ve talked to me like that for the last time. I’ll force you to sell.”

  “Try it.”

  “Count on it! Joanna, thank you for letting me stay here last night. I’ve already put my things in the car. I’m moving over to the farm. Then I’m going to see their lawyer.” Ronan turned and stalked out of the room and out of the house.

  “Hey, Ronan, it’s Saturday,” Sheila called after him, but he didn’t seem to hear. She shook her head and said with a little smile, “He’ll probably track the poor man down at home. When we hear an explosion in the distance, we’ll know my brother’s just found out where things really stand. He’s about to get the shock of his life.”

  Through the front window Rachel watched Ronan cross the yard to his car. Bonnie, who lay in the grass with the other dog
s, jumped up, tail wagging, when Ronan approached, but he strode past her without so much as a glance. Her tail drooped and she dropped onto her belly.

  “Is this something that’s going to shock me, too?” Joanna asked Sheila. “I don’t like surprises.”

  Curious, Rachel turned back to the two women.

  Sheila shrugged. “I might as well tell you. I’ve already told Tom, and it’ll all come out soon. Ronan thinks he has an equal share in the trust, but he doesn’t. My parents loaned him a lot of money over the years, money they couldn’t afford to lose, and he threw it away on his business schemes. He never repaid a cent of it. He’s only getting a quarter of their estate.”

  “And they never told him?” Joanna sounded more curious than shocked.

  “Why should they? He was driving them crazy as it was, always trying to wheedle more money out of them. If they’d told him about changing the trust, he would’ve hounded them for the rest of—” Sheila broke off, squeezed her eyes shut, and swallowed hard. “The rest of their lives,” she finished in a whisper.

  Joanna placed a consoling hand on Sheila’s shoulder, but Rachel could see in Joanna’s distracted, anxious expression that only one thought, one question, burned in her mind.

  Rachel decided to ask the question herself. “Are you going to sell your parents’ farm to Packard?”

  Sheila sighed and pushed a loose strand of black hair off her cheek. “I have to plan a funeral before I make any decisions about the farm.” As if she had no idea she was torturing Joanna, Sheila asked her, “Will you help me with the arrangements? And do you mind if I stay here?”

  Joanna hesitated before answering. “Sure. You’re welcome to stay here. I can see why you wouldn’t want to stay at home. At your parents’ house.”

  “I think I could handle knowing what happened there. It’s not that so much as…to tell you the truth, I don’t want to be alone with Ronan after he finds out about the trust. I’m afraid of him.”

 

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