THE FUTURE WIDOW'S CLUB

by Rhonda Nelson

  One was a family Christmas photo, his Mom, Dad, brother and sister. The other was a candid of Jake that she'd taken during her photography phase and admittedly, he'd been her favorite subject.

  This photo was one that she'd been particularly proud of because it had captured him in such a true moment. He'd been standing close to Smoke, nuzzling the gray dappled horse's muzzle, and the respect and the love for the animal had been evident in every line of his face. The crinkles around those silvery eyes, the soft turn of his mouth. He'd been relaxed and unguarded … and sexy as hell.

  Though genuine cowboys were scarce in Mississippi, Jake had always had that special spark, that easy grace and careless swagger brought about by hours spent in the saddle. While other men went to the gym or Roxy's Roadhouse after work, Jake had always spent his de-stressing time on the back of a horse, or at the very least, in the barn taking care of one. He had a keen understanding of the animals, a way with them that was frankly fascinating to watch.

  His skills were somewhat legendary in their little part of the world and it hadn't been uncommon—even in his teenage years—for other owners to ask his opinion or seek his advice about a difficult animal.

  Within months of her marriage to Chris, his grandfather had deeded twenty acres to him on the south end of the family property, a rolling landscape with hundred-year-old oaks dripping with Spanish moss, hearty maples and a clear swift-moving stream. In the spring hundreds of buttercups, wild poppies and Queen Anne's lace bloomed across the meadows, painting the hills and valleys with splashes of bright color.

  He'd built the barn before the house, making sure that the animals would be taken care of first. Priorities, right? Jolie thought with a small grin. The house was a replica of his grandfather's old two-story farmhouse—the very one they'd always talked about having—but, according to Sadie and Rob who'd had the privilege of visiting, it had been updated with all the modern conveniences.

  She'd occasionally torture herself by driving by, picturing him there before a crackling fire, book in hand. But as time had worn on, she'd stopped. Only a glutton for punishment would keep it up, and Chris had been punishment enough, thank you very much. Besides, it had just been too damned hard. It should have been her with him before that fire, her there sharing his bed. She'd never understand, never get over how terribly wrong things had gone.

  Jolie took her seat, watched Jake scribble on a yellow legal pad, presumably taking notes.

  "One-hundred-thousand, you say?" he said, shooting her a veiled look, one that had the dubious honor of simultaneously making her mouth dry and her stomach roll in a sickening pirouette.

  Shit, she thought with ballooning dread. He knew already. Moon Valley was too small to accommodate discretion, so she hadn't harbored any illusions that Jake wouldn't find out about the life insurance and other things, but she damned sure hadn't counted on him ferreting out the truth so quickly.

  "And she's the sole beneficiary, is that correct?" He hummed under his breath, tapped his pen against his notepad while she resisted the urge to squirm in her seat. "And this policy was taken out when?" Jake nodded, scribbled another note, then circled it. "All right, then. That's all I needed to know." He thanked whomever had been so bloody helpful then disconnected and shot her a considering look. "Have you slept?"

  Code-speak for "You look like crap," Jolie thought, unreasonably perturbed. Evidently her concealer hadn't done the job.

  "A little," she told him. "Have you?"

  "I caught a cat nap this morning. I expected you earlier," he commented lightly. "Any particular reason why you're so late?"

  "I ran by the office. I needed to let Marge know about Chris," she improvised, since it wasn't completely a lie. She could hardly tell him the truth. I've been emptying Chris's accounts before you freeze them.

  He nodded, seemed to accept that excuse. After a moment, he blew out a prolonged breath, abruptly stood and shut the door. He leaned against it, crossed his arms over his chest and merely waited. For her to offer an excuse, she was sure, but she had no intention of obliging him. If he wanted answers, he'd have to ask the questions, otherwise he was outta luck. She certainly wasn't going to volunteer any more than she had to, at least not in the beginning. The more time she had to move the money, the better. With luck, she'd get everything done this afternoon. That was the plan, at any rate.

  She felt the weight of that cool, calm regard for at least another sixty seconds before Jake finally muttered a hot oath and sat back down. He pulled a small black tape recorder from the desk drawer, spoke her name and date into the device, then turned it off and set it down between them.

  He looked up and his gaze tangled with hers. "Before I turn this on, I need to ask you a question."

  She knew he did—knew what he'd ask—and though a part of her resented it because he of all people should know better, undoubtedly the life insurance and her bizarre alibi had shaken his opinion. She couldn't blame him, but that didn't lessen the sting.

  She returned that level stare, determinedly ignoring the flash of heat that hit her belly, and lifted her chin. "Sure. Go ahead."

  "Did you have anything to do with this, Jo? Anything at all?" His voice was a mixture of exasperation and agony, indicating that he hated having to doubt her, which seemed only fitting because she hated it, too.

  "No, Jake. I didn't. I hated Chris, which is common knowledge among my family and friends, but hating him and killing him are two completely different things. I could never have killed him."

  A sigh of relief slipped past his lips. He sagged back into his seat, closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Then please tell me why you were researching pre-burial plans last week?" he asked with weary irritation.

  Jolie blinked. She'd been prepared to answer the insurance question, but she'd had no idea that he'd already heard about the pre-burial plan. How the hell—

  "Andy called me this morning wanting to know when he could have the body," he explained, most likely as a result of her uncomfortable silence. His lips tilted. "He was afraid Randy would beat him to the punch and explained why he thought he had dibs. He mentioned the pre-burial plan—the one you investigated less than a week before your husband's murder," he added significantly. He leaned forward and shook his dark head. "I'm going to be honest, Jo. If it wasn't for your alibi—at least twenty of your bridge club members called this morning to verify your whereabouts last night, by the way—you'd be in deep shit. For someone who's innocent, you're doing a helluva job making yourself look guilty. Dammit, what gives? What have you been up to?"

  Jolie cast around her semi-frozen brain and tried to think of any reason—aside from the truth, of course, which she couldn't share—why she'd been scoping out funeral arrangements last week for her perfectly healthy husband.

  She forced an uncomfortable laugh. "There's nothing w-wrong with b-being prepared is there?" she asked, her voice a little too bright to be believable.

  "Being prepared? No," he said. "It's the timing of your preparations that raises concern."

  He did the waiting thing again, pinning her with that gray gaze until the silence practically screamed between them. Feeling like a kid who'd been called into the principal's office, Jolie barely resisted the urge to squirm, and to make matters worse, she could tell by the set of his jaw that Jake was disappointed that she wasn't going to confide in him. She hated that look, barely refrained from spilling her guts just to make it go away.

  "Fine," he finally relented. "Don't tell me. I'm just trying to help you here." He blew out a breath. "What about the life insurance? Why did you add another hundred grand when you had enough to cover the business and your mortgage?"

  "You can never have too much insurance," Jolie told him, quoting the agent who'd sold her the policy. "Furthermore, Chris owed debts that weren't on paper," she added darkly. Ones she firmly intended to take care of the minute she left here. Odd, though, she thought. When she'd been pouring through the accounts and tallying expenses early thi
s morning, she hadn't factored in any of the life insurance. That would end up being a tidy little sum to add to her nest egg.

  Jake quirked a dark brow. "By that are you referring to the life insurance money he swindled away from your mother?"

  Surprised that he knew, Jolie glanced up. "Er … yeah, I am." She frowned uncertainly. "How did you—"

  "Sadie," Jake interrupted, filling in the blank. "Don't be pissed. She only confirmed what I'd heard around town. After you came in and filed the report, I, uh … I went down and had a talk with her. She told me about the insurance money."

  And everything else, most likely, Jolie thought, but curiously couldn't drum up any outrage that Sadie had confided in Jake, particularly after Chris had hit her. She'd never thanked him for that, Jolie thought suddenly. She bumbled her way through it. "I, uh—I appreciated what you did. With the door and all," she clarified.

  A half-hearted smile caught the corner of his mouth and she felt that meager, woefully familiar grin in places that hadn't known a touch of emotion in years. "Wasn't as satisfying as using my fist," he said with a small lift of a muscled shoulder, "but I improvised." He paused, searching the side of her face for any lingering damage. "Bastard," he muttered.

  "Yes, he was," she readily agreed. "Which is why I hope that you'll understand and not pass judgment when I move on. He made me miserable. Wretched. Am I sorry that someone murdered him? Yes. Am I sorry that he's out of my life? No. I know it seems harsh, but—" She drew up short, tried to find the words to frame the way she felt. She shrugged helplessly. "It's just the way it is."

  Jake nodded. "Moving on is fine, Jolie. From what Sadie told me, you definitely need to." He hesitated. "That said, please keep in mind that everything you do, especially over the coming weeks, will be under intense scrutiny and—" he raised one eyebrow meaningfully "—it'll make my job a whole lot easier if you aren't doing things that make you look guilty."

  "Like dancing on his grave?" she suggested innocently.

  Surprise jimmied a chuckle loose in his throat and he shot her a startled look. "Yes. Dancing on his grave wouldn't be a good thing."

  She made an exaggerated moue of disappointment. "There went that plan."

  He passed a hand over his face, trying to wipe away his smile. "If there's anything you need to tell me, now would be a good time. I don't want anymore surprises."

  Jolie felt a blanket of guilt settle over her shoulders as she shook her head. She hated lying to him, but she couldn't out the FWC. Too many members were still shackled to bastard husbands and the FWC was the only thing making their lives bearable. God knows the past two weeks she'd spent as a member had made her feel tremendously better. She couldn't tell him.

  "Sadie seemed to think that Dean might pull you from this case," Jolie said, opting to change the subject. "Is that going to happen?"

  To her vast relief, Jake shook his head. "No. He wanted to, but was, er, persuaded to let me remain as lead. I was given strict instructions to keep Dean up to date … and stick to you like glue," he added.

  Jolie repressed a shudder as another inappropriate thought flitted through her head. Though she knew he'd meant to scare her—or warn her, most likely—her thoughts had instantly turned in another direction. She knew what it was like to have Jake stick to her like glue. In the past he'd been very adept at making her fall apart … then putting her back together. A bittersweet pang squeezed her chest. It was just one of the many things she missed about him.

  She blinked, trying to pull her thoughts back together. When she looked up, Jake was watching her closely, an odd expression on his face. "Er … does Dean know about Emily?" Jolie asked, once again fishing for a subject change.

  He leaned back once more. "He does. Mike and I told him last night."

  "How did he take it?"

  "She's moving out. They're finished."

  Damn Chris's hide, Jolie thought, angry and disgusted. "I'm sorry," she said, wishing there was something she could do to make things right.

  "For what?" Jake asked. "Wasn't your fault."

  "Maybe not directly, but I'm the one who brought him here." She looked away, then picked at a loose thread. "You have no idea how much I regret it."

  "It's still not your fault, Jolie," Jake insisted. "Emily's a big girl. She knew what she was doing and, according to Dean, this wasn't the first time. Don't beat yourself up about it."

  "The sonofabitch never could keep it in his pants," she muttered, unable to let it go. Dean was a good man. He deserved better. And she didn't care what Jake said, while she might not be completely to blame, she was indirectly at fault. She'd brought him here and infected her town with his cancerous—

  A bark of laughter erupted from Jake's throat. "And still can't. We still haven't found it."

  Confused, Jolie glanced up. "Found what?"

  Jake's eyes widened in belated regret, then he shifted and swore hotly. "Christ," he muttered. "I'm such an idiot."

  "Found what?" she repeated. She had a sickening suspicion, but surely he didn't mean what she thought he meant.

  "His penis," Jake finally told her. "His killer castrated him."

  Jolie gaped, equally horrified and revolted.

  "You, uh, must not have noticed."

  She snorted. "No, I didn't. I lost interest in Chris's penis a long time ago. Other than documenting who he'd been sticking it to for my divorce file, that is." Jolie shook her head, unable to make it process and though she knew it was horrible, she had the almost overwhelming urge to laugh. There was something very satisfying about poetic justice.

  "Do you have any idea who might have done this?" Jake asked her.

  She snorted. "Anyone in particular? No. But I'll give you everything I've got in my file. I've been keeping up with everything—the shady business dealings and adultery—for the divorce. Dean's wife wasn't the only woman he was screwing around with. He wasn't particular, I can tell you that. Nor was he very smart." Jolie chewed the corner of her mouth and looked up. "I know he's your boss, but are you sure Dean didn't know about Emily before last night? I know Chris had been going to their house."

  Jake shook his head. "He didn't. I'm sure of it."

  Since it was that same assurance that told him she was innocent, Jolie didn't argue. Most likely Jake was right. Still, Chris's hijacked dick shed a whole new light on things. That was personal. Someone really hated him. Come to think of it, Jolie decided, lots of people really hated him and each one of them with good reason. Jake wouldn't find himself short on suspects, that was for sure. For her part, however, she just wanted it over with. And to that end, she needed to be able to bury him, her last official act as his wife.

  "Er … any idea when I'll be able to arrange the funeral?" she asked him.

  "The M.E. should be finished with the body in another day or so. Just get in touch with Andy and he'll handle that end of it."

  Jolie nodded, relief melting her spine. A couple more days, and then that would be it. Her life would be her own again. Or at least as much her own as she could make it while she was a murder suspect, at any rate.

  "Did Chris have any family?" Jake asked curiously.

  "No," she deadpanned. "He sprung fully grown from the loins of Satan."

  Jake's lips twitched and he shot her a look. "That's cold, Jo."

  She smiled, then let go a small sigh. "I honestly don't know. He told me a tragic story about his parents being in a car accident. At the time I bought it, but now…" She shook her head. "He told so many lies. If he's got any family, they've never contacted him or vice versa."

  Jake seemed to be mulling that over. Finally, he gestured toward the tape recorder. "We should probably get started."

  "Okay."

  "Mind if I come by later and pick up that file you told me about?"

  "Not at all," she replied. "It's in the apartment above Sadie's shop. Keeping it at the office or in the house was too risky."

  "Makes sense. Had you contacted an attorney about the divorce?"
<
br />   "I had. Lanny James."

  Jake whistled low and his gaze seemed to sharpen. "Pulling out a big gun, eh?"

  Jolie smiled, shrugged. "I was in for a fight. I knew Lanny had a better shot than most to handle him." Lanny had been looking forward to it, too, Jolie thought. He was an old dog who didn't bark, just bit, which made him one helluva divorce attorney. He'd given her invaluable advice; he was the one who'd encouraged her to start the file. He didn't go into a courtroom without the ammunition to annihilate an opponent. Chris's death had robbed her of that satisfaction, but at least this way she was spared the mess and expense.

  "I'll have to talk to him," Jake said, shooting her a level look.

  Her lips slid into an unconcerned smile. "Talk to whomever you have to, Jake. I'm innocent. Nothing you're gonna find will change that."

  That silver gaze caught and held hers, momentarily sucking the air from her lungs. "Am I gonna find anything else that will challenge it?"

  Depended on where he looked, Jolie thought, chewing the inside of her cheek. "Let's hope not," she replied, forcing a smile.

  His gaze narrowed, instantly seeing through her flimsy, evasive answer and he muttered an exasperated curse. "Can't you see that I'm on your side? That I'm trying to help you? Why are you making this harder than it has to be?"

  "You're the detective, Jake. Figure it out."

  He managed a weak grin. "Very cute, Jo. I'm just not sure you understand the gravity of the situation. If any other guy had this case, alibi or no, you'd make a very convenient suspect."

  She crossed her legs and leaned back in her seat, doing her best to ignore the frightened shiver that tripped down her spine. "I do understand that, but being a convenient suspect doesn't make me guilty. The truth will speak for itself." She had to believe that.

  He lifted a sardonic brow. "And I'm sure all the innocent people on death row had the same opinion."