“Are you threatening an officer of the law?” Buster asked.
“No. I’m making a promise. If this is a trumped-up charge, which it probably is, there will be consequences.” Jake leveled an eye at Buster.
Buster grabbed Holly by her wrists and pushed her forward. She would have tripped going down the steps if he hadn’t held on to her cuffs.
“Is that really necessary?” Thomas asked, trailing beside them.
“Standard procedure.” Buster walked Holly down the driveway.
“For crapweasels like you,” Jake said, making long strides to stay ahead of them. “Don’t worry, Holly. I’ve got a call in to the judge.”
Buster smirked. “Won’t do you any good. He’s in the ICU. Had a heart attack this morning.”
Holly’s stomach churned. That’s why Buster was being so bold.
They stepped into a clearing at the end of her driveway where a helicopter waited.
On the bright side, she’d never flown in a helicopter.
“Wait,” Thomas called.
Buster didn’t. He stuffed Holly in the helicopter and it whirled upward.
Then she puked in Buster’s lap.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Holly sat on a concrete ledge in a windowless cell. Her one phone call to her lawyer roommate went to an automated message that she was out on vacation for two weeks. Luck really blooms some days.
Some poor soul in the next cell was coughing up a lung.
Surely, Jake and Thomas would get here soon. If she’d thought about it, she could have called her good buddy Purvis Cumpton, the lawyer turned bail bondsman. Just because he wasn’t a lawyer anymore didn’t mean he couldn’t represent her on the sly. She’d seen people represent themselves in trials on TV.
Mercy. What was she going to do?
“Hey, got a smoke?” Was it a guy? Girl? She couldn’t tell from the voice and couldn’t see him through the thick jail wall.
She covered her face with her hands and tried to cry to relieve some stress. Even her tears were too tired to come out.
Voices came from down the hall. She recognized Jake’s voice and another male voice. Maybe Thomas. Footsteps neared her cell.
The baby-face deputy parked himself next to the wall. Jake and Thomas stood in front of her six-by-eight-foot cell.
She rushed across the cell and laced her hands around the bars. “Can you get me out?”
“We’re trying,” Jake said. Then he said something under his breath she couldn’t hear.
“Don’t worry, Holly.” Thomas patted her fingers because that’s all he could get to, but it was sweet.
Jake’s jaw was so tense she could see his veins through his skin. “I can’t believe that little twerp did this.”
“Why did he?” Holly slumped against the bars. “Did he find more evidence?”
“No. Just more freedom to be a jerk with the judge out.”
“Oh . . .” Holly closed her eyes. “I forgot about the judge. Is he going to be okay?”
“Not any time soon.” Jake bumped his fist against the bars. “He’s under the knife now.”
“Open-heart surgery is no fun,” Thomas said. “My Chris had it last year. Tough recovery.”
“I’m so sorry,” Holly whispered. In more ways than one.
“Time’s up,” the baby-face deputy said as he stepped away from the wall.
Holly’s eyes welled with tears. This stink just got real.
* * *
A bone-deep chill rushed over Holly. She opened her eyes. Still in the cell. How long had she been there? Twenty minutes or twenty years?
“Fine spiritual guide you are,” Tru said as his image formed in front of her.
For once, she was glad to see him. “How did you leave Holly Grove?”
Tru shrugged. “I’m not tied to Holly Grove like Burl was or you are. If I don’t have to do the rest of my time down there,” he looked at the ground, “I think I can float around anywhere I want to.”
“Don’t you want to go to heaven?”
“It’s more like getting in at the select country club. They may not let me in.” He lifted a shoulder. “Anyway, I thought I’d hang out with you a while.”
“I really let you down.” Holly leaned back against the concrete wall. “You know tomorrow is your last day to get your name replaced on the devil’s roll call.”
“Yeah.” Tru put his hands in his pocket. “I’m kinda hoping for a miracle.”
“Me too.” Her stomach growled. She put her hand over the rumble. “Maybe Nelda will bring me something good to eat with a file baked in.”
“You know, I may be able to bust you out of here.”
“Where would I go? Holly Grove is the only place I know. I’d never be happy bumming around from place to place.”
“I’d like to try it, but since you’ve given up on me and all.”
“I didn’t give up on you.” She picked at a piece of lint on her shirt. “I got arrested.”
“Well, you getting arrested ends it for me.” He sat down beside her. “Who’s going to look for the guy or gal who pushed me off a roof when a nice lady who didn’t is in jail for it? Lose-lose. That’s the way I see it.”
“I’m sorry, Tru.” She patted him on the back but her hand sunk into chilled air.
“Don’t be.” He smiled and she noticed he hardly had any soot on him anymore and his hair was only slightly singed.
He shoved off the concrete bench and wind swirled around him as he blew down the corridor. Doors slammed. Crashes, bangs, and a few shrieks.
Yep. He was having fun on his last day. If only she could have been a successful spirit guide for him and he could have had a better afterlife than his life. Regret tugged at her heart and weighted her mind.
CHAPTER THIRTY
No radio. No TV. No phone. All Holly had were her thoughts, and she’d spun them out to every dark corner.
She paced and fretted.
Holly Grove would be sold and taken apart bit by bit to be reassembled in a subdivision. She wanted to gag at the thought.
There were exactly eight steps from the front of the cell to the back of the cell.
Or the land would be sold off in small lots or worse for a mobile home park. They’d call the subdivision or mobile home park Holly Grove to hang further embarrassment on her and her family.
The portraits of all five generations would be sold along with all the furniture at an auction to pay for her legal fees, and it probably won’t be enough. She’d end up with that state lawyer Buster told her about when he read her her rights.
Holly grabbed the bars and rocked back and forth.
Rhett would move in with Miss Martha Jane and her cats, never to see his puppies with Dog.
She rubbed her hands up and down the bars.
Jake would think about Holly every now and then, but he’d never come to see her in prison—that is, if the jury didn’t send her to the electric chair, which was still legal and lethal in Louisiana.
Nelda would go to work at Dottie’s Diner or at the school cafeteria, and no one would appreciate her like Holly did. She’d never have one of Nelda’s pralines again unless she mailed them to her at Angola. Wait. Angola is only for men. She didn’t even know where to tell Nelda to send them.
She shook the bars.
Cry me a freakin’ river!
I’m not going down without a fight. She pushed off the bars. Whatever it takes, I’m getting out of here.
* * *
“Hey!” Baby-face came into her narrow view. “Quiet down. You’re not the only person in here. Keep the peace.”
“I demand to see my lawyer.” She pressed her nose to the bar so she could see Baby-face with both eyes. “You can’t just dump me in here by myself.”
More footsteps came down the hall. “Well, well, well,” Buster said. “Didn’t take you long to break.”
“I’m not broken. I’m lonely. There’s nothing but four walls and concrete in here. It’s not heal
thy.”
“I could put you in with Bertha, but she’s got a nasty cough. Snores like a bear, too.”
“Maybe I’m not that lonely.” Holly rested her head against the bars. “I know you don’t believe me, but I didn’t do it.”
“Evidence says you did.” Buster tilted his head back. “Want to talk about it?”
Holly shook her head. “Not without my lawyer.”
Buster turned around and strolled down the hall.
Lordy. I’m not cut out to be a criminal. I’m not a criminal. Justice will prevail. Don’t go back down that dark path of the bad things. Think positive. The power of positive thinking and all that jazz.
Holly closed her eyes and leaned against the concrete wall. I’m walking out through that locked door. I’m walking down the hall. I’m getting my purse back with my gum in it and I’m going to chew the heck out of it. And then I’m going to walk outside into the sunshine a free woman. I see it. It will happen. Mind over matter.
“Miss Davis.” A man’s voice bounced off the walls.
“Huh?” She opened her eyes.
A short, bald guy wearing a suit that was too tight and crepe sole shoes stood before her.
“I’m Carver Millworth, attorney at large.” He slid a card between the bars. “You’re free to go.”
“Do you mean someone made bond for me?”
“No. You’re free to go. The charges are dropped.”
“Woo-hoo!” She would hug the guy, but she’d never seen him before in her life. “How’d you get me out? A technicality?”
He gave a solemn shake of his head.
“Did the judge order it from the ICU?”
The head shake was barely noticeable.
“Hey, I’ll take it no matter how you did it. I’m just curious.”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
* * *
Jake picked Holly up at the jail and he still looked ticked. He hugged her tight, but it was stiff, as though he were made of the same concrete walls she had just been trapped in. Was his anger trapped inside?
“I’m okay.” She touched his arm. “It’s over.”
He gave a tight nod. And kept his eyes on the road.
Fast-food bags littered the floor of the stripped-down Ford F-150, and there were tiny cracks all over the faux leather seats. “Whose truck is this and how did you get out, by the way?”
“One of Mackie’s friends. He’s going to pick it up at the bayou.”
“And then what?” She dusted some crumbs off the seat.
“Mackie is waiting for us with a pirogue.” He shifted the truck and the engine gunned down. “He’ll paddle you across.”
“What about you?” Her insides twisted. Something was very wrong, even though he should be happy she was free.
“I’ve got some things I need to take care of.” He slowed the truck to a crawl and stopped just at the water’s edge. Leaning over her, he pushed the car door open for her. “I’ll be back before dark.”
“You’re making me nervous.” She held on to his arm. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“He broke his stone face with a hint of a smile. “I’ll tell you when I get home.”
Home. That had a ring to it, especially coming from Jake.
She slid to the edge of the bench seat, hopped out of the truck, and slammed the door. “See you tonight.”
Mackie paddled up in the pirogue, and Holly waded knee-deep to take his hand and step in the boat.
“Thanks,” she said, “for getting the truck for Jake and paddling us back and forth.”
“No problem.” He shoved off. “It’s only about two feet deep. You’ll be able to drive through it in a couple of hours.”
Holly sighed. “That means everyone can leave and someone is getting away with murder.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Mackie looked off into the horizon like the answer was there.
“There’s something y’all aren’t telling me.” She huffed and folded her arms. “And I don’t like it.”
“Don’t blame you,” Mackie said and kept paddling.
A few minutes later, they were across the blacktop to her side of Bayou St. Agnes.
She helped Mackie pick up the pirogue and balance it in the back of his truck bed.
Mackie slapped the aluminum hull. “She’s sitting there on imagination, but I don’t have far to go, and we’ve got the road to ourselves.”
She climbed up in Mackie’s truck and nearly sat on two guns, a pistol and a rifle. “Any reason you’re packing today?”
Mackie gave a half-assed grin behind his beard. “Every reason.”
* * *
Holly Grove never looked so good as when they turned onto her driveway. She closed her eyes and said a little prayer of thanks for being free.
Mackie stopped out front. Nelda, Miss Alice, Sam, and Rhett all poured out of the house and waited on the porch. She got the oozy, warm fuzzies just looking at them. Who says she doesn’t have a family?
Holly bounded out of the old truck and ran up the stairs. Nelda wrapped her in a hug first. “I sure am glad I don’t have to go to the penitentiary to see ya.”
“Me too.” Holly hugged Miss Alice, but her oversized purse got in the way.
When Holly pulled back to look at her, Miss Alice sniffed and pulled a tissue out of her purse. She waved the tissue. “Allergies.”
“Welcome home.” Sam wrapped her in a bear hug. “I sure am glad I didn’t have to write the story Buster was selling.”
A light breeze dusted across the porch but the chill in it made her wonder if that wasn’t a hug too.
“Are you hungry?” Nelda asked as they walked up the stairs together.
“Starved.” Holly pulled out of her wet boots at the door. “I swear, I felt like I was already on death row.”
She peeked in the parlor but it was empty. She didn’t expect Sylvia, Liz, or Angel to come down to greet her, but she though Thomas would. “Where’s Thomas?
“I better get on supper,” Nelda said as she scurried toward the kitchen.
Sam avoided looking at Holly, and Miss Alice took her glasses off and let them dangle by the beaded chain around her neck.
“Oh, no.” She could barely get the words out. Surely no one else had died at Holly Grove. “Please tell me Thomas is okay.”
A man Holly didn’t recognize stepped into the entrance hall from the back door, the riverside. No one comes in that door for the first time. This guy has been here a while. She racked her brain for a guest scheduled to check in today. Mercy! And how could he get here without a local connection to get him over the bayou?
The man continued to walk toward her. He wore a blue suit that looked custom-made and a red tie. His shoes shone like money. He extended his hand. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
Holly took his hand in hers. His skin was soft and his nails impeccable.
“I’m Chris Sinclair,” he said. “Thomas’s husband.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you,” Chris said as he sat on the settee next to Holly. “I’ve heard so many things about you.”
His expression was pleasant but there was tension in it.
She smiled to put him at ease. “Thomas told me a lot about you, too. He said you enjoy renovating old houses, building hobby airplanes, and traveling together. Oh, and he says you’re a fabulous cook.”
He lifted a salt-and-pepper eyebrow. “But he didn’t tell you I was a man, did he?”
“Uh, well . . .” And you’re supposed to be working on telling the truth. “No.”
“I told him that was a mistake.” Chris sat a little straighter. “It’s always good to start off as you intend to continue.”
“Sometimes that’s harder than you think.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Where is he?”
“He wanted me to talk to you alone.” Chris put his hand on top of hers. “Thomas is the most kind and generous man I’ve ever known, but he avoi
ds difficult conversations.”
“Most men do,” Holly replied.
Chris sucked a thin breath of air in. “I want to start with the fact that he loves you very much and always has.”
“Pardon me?” Holly studied Chris. His hands were relaxed and his eyes warm. Whatever he was trying to tell her came from sincerity if not misguided thought or fantasy.
He kept his hand over hers. “I want you to just listen. I have prepared to have this conversation and Thomas is aware of everything I’m going to tell you. There’s a glass of water right there if you need it.”
He glanced at Grandma Rose’s footed Fostoria crystal goblet, sitting on a linen napkin and filled with crushed ice and water.
“Are you going to tell me he’s dead?” she asked around a lump of emotion in her throat.
Chris smiled. “No. I’m going to tell you a love story.”
“Your love story with Thomas?”
“Partly.” Chris unbuttoned his jacket and leaned back. “A long time ago, Thomas was married to a woman he loved very much. He’d planned to spend his entire life with her. But there was something inside him that he thought was abnormal, and it was for a heterosexual man. But Thomas was soon to find out he was a gay man.”
Chris took a sip of water from the matching glass on his end table. “This was in the eighties. You’re too young to remember the AIDS epidemic and the paranoia that came with it, but this was the time he chose to tell the wife that he loved that he could not be her husband in good faith. It was traumatic for both of them, but Thomas, being Thomas, sacrificed everything to spare his lovely wife pain or embarrassment.”
“I can believe that.” Holly rolled her tongue over her dry lips. She wanted to be polite and kind because this was important to Chris, but it was so personal.
“It was about that time that his wife learned she was pregnant.” Thomas placed the crystal water glass on a linen napkin on the side table. “He agreed to leave the community and never return or communicate with his family again. It was a different time in our country. Of course, Thomas, being Thomas, paid child support, tuition, lessons, and all the things that go along with being a parent. The only thing he asked was an annual photo and a letter once a month about his daughter. This proceeded even after his beloved first love died. Her mother continued with the letters. And then a trusted friend.”
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