by Susan Stoker
Being the dutiful daughter, whose peers had all landed successful matches, Phoebe had let the wave of her familial obligations sweep her along. And where had that gotten her? In a relationship she regretted and now facing a potential murder rap. She really needed to get to the auto repair shop as soon as possible.
Lola led the way into the apartment chatting all the way.
Phoebe followed, barely hearing a word the woman said until she stepped through the door.
“The nice thing about living here is that you’re only a couple blocks from the sheriff’s office and fire station.” Lola’s lips curled into a secretive smile. “And you know what that means.”
Phoebe came back to the present with a frown. “No. What does that mean?” Other than it wouldn’t take long for a deputy to get there once they found the body in the trunk of the rental car. A cool chill rippled across her skin.
“The fire fighters arrive in less than three minutes, if you have an emergency.”
“You know this because…?” Phoebe queried.
Lola glanced toward the sky. “You could say I’ve had an emergency or two.” She spun to face Phoebe. “They’re like clockwork. Three minutes on the dot.” With a quick glance around, she grimaced. “It is a mess, but the bed is somewhere in the corner and a small balcony juts off the back if you get claustrophobic. I think the former owners had the apartment made up for their grown son as a weaning off option before he got a place of his own. When it’s not full of junk, the space is kind of cozy. You have your own kitchenette and small refrigerator, if you can find them.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Phoebe tried not to think of the cobwebs hanging from the rafters. And, really, how hard could it be to knock down a few spider webs or clean up a little dust? Lots of people did it. Phoebe shivered. As the daughter of a very wealthy man, she’d never had to clean her own room. Even in college, her father had hired a maid to clean her apartment.
Straightening her shoulders, she told herself it would be an adventure, a chance to learn and grow as a person free of her parents’ expectations. She could do this.
“As for the boxes, I suppose you could move them to the garage. I’d help, but I have a ton of new inventory I’m sorting through at the shop. I need to get it on the shelves as soon as possible.”
“Oh.” Phoebe turned to Lola. “Do you need help? I can deal with this at another time.”
Lola patted Phoebe’s arm. “You need to stay here and find the bed. I’m sure that it’ll take a little time pulling off the dustcovers. Open the windows and let in some sunlight and fresh air. I’ll bring up fresh sheets before I head back to the shop.”
Lola left her standing among the stacks of boxes, all of her worldly goods crammed into a couple of plastic bags and the pathetic twenty-five dollars wadded in her jeans pocket. The task of moving, sorting and cleaning seemed overwhelming. After all the other things she’d been through that day, the tasks were par for the course. She could stand there feeling sorry for herself, or get to work and make some sense out of her life.
She changed into a slightly faded T-shirt from her bag of clothes and went to work moving boxes from the apartment down to the garage. By the time she’d made her way through fifteen of them, she was cursing her personal trainer for insisting on spin class instead of the stair climber. Her hamstrings were screaming, and her back hurt like it never hurt before. The kicker was that she considered herself in fairly good shape. If she ever went back to that gym in Fort Worth, she’d be sure to ask for a refund of her father’s money.
All the while Phoebe worked, she waited for the shoe to drop and Ryan’s body to be discovered. Every time she heard a siren, she tensed and waited for the wailing to swing her way and stop in the gravel driveway of Lola’s house.
Good to her word, Lola had delivered a set of clean sheets, towels and a couple sampler bottles of shampoo and body wash that looked like the kind hotels offered their guests. By the time the sun dropped below the horizon, Phoebe was hot, sweaty, and physically and mentally exhausted.
She had a pretty good path through to the kitchenette and could squeeze past old furniture she couldn’t lift to get to the tiny bathroom and shower. Though the window air conditioner worked, the old unit had struggled to cool the small apartment in the heat of the Texas summer afternoon.
Too tired to care how small the shower stall was, Phoebe stripped out of the dirty clothing and stepped beneath the spray, shocked by the chill of the water. Apparently, the water heater wasn’t working or hadn’t been turned on. But after a moment or two, the cold water felt great against her sweat-soaked skin.
Once she stepped out of the shower, she almost felt human. Dressed in a clean pair of jeans, a dark blouse and a pair of gently worn running shoes, she exited the apartment, so hungry she couldn’t think straight. First, she’d find food and then the auto repair shop where the rental car had been taken. If she was lucky, Rider hadn’t searched the trunk for a spare. If she was even luckier, the tire would be magically intact and inflated. She’d be able to drive the rental car away to dispose of Ryan’s body or ditch the car somewhere and walk back to her new life in Hellfire.
A cold sense of dread chilled her in the late afternoon gloom. How had Ryan ended up in that trunk? He hadn’t fallen in and suffered a heart attack. The man had been fit, active and too young for clogged arteries. Which indicated someone had offed him and shoved him into the trunk.
Guilt tore at Phoebe. She was upset at her fiancé’s demise. But not heartbroken. Sure, she felt awful that he was dead. But her sense of relief that she didn’t have to marry him was just as strong. Still, she hadn’t wished him dead. Just unavailable to marry her. God, was she becoming a cold-hearted bitch like her mother could be? Leaving that world behind had been the best decision she could have made. But with no money, no identification and no prospects of a job, she was navigating uncharted waters and afraid she would be swept under.
She walked two blocks to Main Street, passing by quaint little mom-and-pop stores, finally coming across Bob’s Diner. The undeniable scent of food wafting out of the establishment almost brought Phoebe to her knees. With the last bit of her waning strength, she pushed open the door and entered, her mouthwatering.
“Sit where you like,” a female voice called out.
Phoebe glanced around at the black-and-white checkered floor, shiny red booth seats and chrome bar and managed to stagger to an empty booth in the far right corner. She reached for the laminated menu wedged between the napkin holder and the salt and pepper shakers and stared at the array of potential entrees, her stomach aching with the need for nourishment.
“Honey, what can I getcha?” A middle-aged waitress, dressed in a fifties-style, pink skirt and top, bobbysocks, saddle shoes and a ribbon holding her hair back, stopped next to her table. “The meatloaf is fresh out of the oven and one of Bob’s best.”
“Sounds wonderful.” With only twenty-five dollars to last until she landed a job, she had to be sparing with her money, something completely new to her lifestyle. “But I’d rather have the grilled cheese sandwich and a glass of tap water.” She set the menu back where she’d found it and smiled up at the waitress. If she was very careful, she might make the little bit of money last until the end of the week, at which time she’d better have a plan in place to get more, or she’d starve.
“Are you the young woman who moved into Lola’s garage?”
Her cheeks heating, Phoebe nodded.
“Word gets around in small towns.” The waitress grinned, wiped her hand on the white apron covering her pink skirt and held it out. “Judy Johnson.”
Phoebe took the other woman’s hand. “Phoebe Smith. Nice to meet you.”
“Let me know if you need anything. Most everyone knows everyone else, and we help each other out. ‘Specially when they’re down and out.”
Phoebe couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. She’d never had to worry about money, and she’d never had to ask for help. She glanc
ed around the diner. “You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who might be hiring, would you? I need a job.”
“What kind of experience do you have?” Judy asked.
Experience? Hell, she’d never held a job. With a degree in home economics, she wasn’t sure how her coursework would translate to anything there in Hellfire, she shook her head. “I don’t have any experience.”
The waitress frowned and touched her chin. “I’d say apply here, but Bob’s got all the wait staff he needs.” She tilted her head and stared at the far left corner of the building, tapping her chin. Finally, she straightened, her eyes widening. “How about the Ugly Stick Saloon?”
“Ugly Stick Saloon?” What kind of place had a name like that?
“Sure! Audrey Anderson owns it. Only thing is it’s out on the county line. You got a car?”
Phoebe almost answered yes, until she remembered the car she had was a rental she didn’t own, and a dead man occupied the trunk. Her shoulders slumped, along with her hopes. “No.”
Judy tapped the end of her pen to her chin. “Hmm. There’s always the chance one of the other waitresses could give you a ride if your shifts match.” She wrote a number on her order pad and ripped off a page. “Here’s her phone number. It’s worth giving her a call. Audrey always needs waitresses and the tips are good. A lot better than here.” She winked. “I’d work there myself, but I’m getting too old for the late nights.”
Phoebe folded the paper and slipped it into her jeans pocket. She’d give this Audrey person a call when she found a phone she could use for free.
Judy had turned and walked a few steps when she spun back around. “In case you don’t have a phone, you can use the one on the counter.” She walked away, pointing at the phone as she passed it on her way to the kitchen with Phoebe’s order.
The waitress’s smile was so warm and friendly Phoebe’s throat thickened and her eyes stung.
So far, the people she’d met in Hellfire had bent over backward to help her. Would they be as open and friendly if they knew what was in the trunk of the rental car?
Phoebe pushed back her shoulders and stood. She’d just have to make sure they didn’t find out. And if she could get a job at the Ugly Stick Saloon, she might not have to get in touch with her father to have him or her mother send her wallet with her identification. She could request it from the DMV and avoid letting her family know where she was until she was good and ready to reveal her location. Hopefully, after she proved she could live on her own, without her father’s money or connections.
With her newfound freedom and independence stiffening her backbone, she marched to the counter, lifted the phone and entered the phone number for Audrey Anderson.
After only one ring, a female voice answered. “This is Audrey.”
Never having interviewed for a job, much less over the phone, Phoebe’s brain froze, and she struggled to come up with an introduction. Finally, she said, “Hi, I’m Phoebe.”
Audrey chuckled, the sound was warm and friendly. “Well, Phoebe, what can I do for you?”
She glanced around the diner, her gaze meeting Judy’s.
The waitress smiled again and nodded.
Gestures that gave Phoebe the courage to forge on. “I’m new in town, and I was wondering if you needed any help at the…” what was the name of the place?
“At the Ugly Stick?” Audrey assisted. “As a matter of fact, I’m short two waitresses tonight. I’m filling in for one of them, but I could use another. Talk about great timing. Do you own a pair of denim cut-offs?”
Frayed cut-offs had been one of the items Peg had insisted she select. Phoebe answered, “Yes.”
“Can you be here in an hour?”
Audrey didn’t waste time. “I could, if I could get a ride.”
“No problem. My husband is headed this way about then, he can give you a lift, and I can bring you back to town after we close.”
“That would be wonderful.” Phoebe hugged the phone to her ear, tears welling in her eyes. “Thank you so much.”
“No,” Audrey said. “Thank you! We’ll be swamped tonight with the tri-county rodeo going on. This will be a big help to me.”
Phoebe provided the address of her garage apartment. Audrey stated her husband, Jackson, had business in Hellfire anyway, and would be there in forty-five minutes. After she hung up, Phoebe returned to her table where Judy had set a glass of water.
Minutes later, the waitress brought her food.
The golden toasted grilled cheese sandwich looked better than any of the high-dollar chef-prepared dinners she’d eaten in the past. So hungry she could barely see straight, she wolfed down the sandwich and the potato chips that accompanied it, paid for her meal and hugged Judy on her way out the door.
Going from homeless and broke, with nothing more than the wedding dress on her back, she now had an apartment, a job and a full stomach. Life was looking up. As she left Bob’s Diner, she looked both ways on Main Street, wondering which way she should go to get to Rider Grayson’s auto repair shop. With thirty minutes to spare before Jackson arrived at her apartment to drive her to the Ugly Stick Saloon, she had time to find the auto shop and maybe buy a few groceries. Removing the body would have to wait until after the town of Hellfire went to sleep. Then she’d have to start her life of crime by breaking and entering into the auto shop and figuring out how to move the body of a one-hundred-eighty-pound man.
Phoebe wondered if her personal trainer had a program for heavy lifting for the criminally inclined. Though she found nothing humorous in her situation, she couldn’t help a bark of laughter as she wandered through the streets of Hellfire.
Finally, she came to a building with Grayson’s Auto Repairs written in bold lettering on a sign positioned over the door. The only light inside came from a single bulb shining in the back of the building.
A dark sedan drove by on the street behind her, slowing as it approached where Phoebe stood.
She hunched her shoulders and continued down the sidewalk. In a small town, everyone knew or wanted to know everyone else’s business. If she stood too long in front of a building, she’d draw attention. Oh, hell, who was she kidding? The new girl in town would draw attention no matter what. Phoebe walked on.
The sedan kept pace. After a few steps, tingling spread down Phoebe’s spine. Had her father’s bodyguards or private investigators caught up with her? She walked faster. At the next corner, she made a quick left, ducking onto a street with only one street light halfway down the block.
Before the sedan had a chance to make that same turn, Phoebe sprinted to the end of a commercial building and turned into the back alley. As soon as she did, it was as if the light had been snuffed. Using only the moonlight and the distant and somewhat sporadic lights from nearby homes, she hurried through a maze of trash bins and pallet stacks. Footsteps behind her made her move faster, until she was running, leaping and stumbling over the obstacles in her path. Finally, she threw herself between a large metal rubbish container and the brick wall of a building.
Her breathing came in swift, shallow breaths, as she strained past the noise of her pulse pounding against her eardrums, and listened for the footsteps. By the sound of it, two people hurried her way, accompanied by an occasional curse and a loud crash as one or both of her pursuers crashed into some hidden object.
Hunkering low in the shadows, she hid and waited, praying the two would pass her by and abandon their search. The low tones of their voices indicated they were men. One paused on the other side of the container.
“Where did she go?” he whispered.
“How the hell do I know?” the other guy said. “I can’t see a damned thing.”
“Get moving. We have to find her,” the first guy said, moving farther away.
Phoebe waited a few more minutes before poking her head out of her hiding place. Her vision had adjusted to the deep gloom. Nothing moved in the alley except a stray cat casually strolling through as if nothing scared him.
God, she hoped Rider hadn’t found the body in the trunk. She suspected that whoever chased her down the alley had something to do with the body in the trunk. The only reason they would want her was because she must know Ryan was in there.
Then again, she hadn’t seen the men who’d killed him. Which led back to the question of why had they killed Ryan, and why would they now be after her?
Chapter Five
‡
“You should have seen old Nash carrying the pretty bride around like he was marching her over a threshold.” Rider lifted the beer in his hand. “Never thought I’d see him with a bride. He’s too cantankerous to get married. Suppose I’ll have to be content with that image. It’s probably as close as he’ll get to a bride of his own.”
“I’m sitting at the table, dumbass,” Nash said, tossing back the whiskey shooter he’d ordered, following it with a longneck bottle of his favorite beer. They’d gathered at the Ugly Stick Saloon for a drink after work to celebrate their brother Chance’s thirty-first birthday. “You don’t have to talk about me like I’m in another county.”
Rider clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, old man. I can’t help it. I wish you could have seen it like I did. The look on your face cracked me up!” He laughed again and wiped the tears from his eyes before taking another long draw from his beer.
“I wouldn’t push him too hard,” Beckett, Nash’s oldest brother, said. “He’s younger than you, and what do you have to show for yourself? You haven’t even come close to landing a girlfriend, much less a wife.”