Down & Dead In Dixie (Down & Dead, Inc. Series)

by Vicki Hinze

  My box opened. Matthew grabbed me by the arms, lifted me up and out of the box onto a narrow ledge. “Hurry. We’ve got thirty seconds to make it to the door.”

  He half-pulled, I half-scrambled, nearly tripping.

  “Lift your skirt. It’s going to get caught in the belt or the barrier walls.”

  I gathered and scooped it up, crushed the delicate fabric to me, wishing I hadn’t gotten sappy and sentimental and had settled on jeans. But I hadn’t realized the handicap…

  The primary chamber floor gapped opened and steel walls slid up between us and the flames. “Matthew…?” We should be off the conveyer by now. Would we be trapped on the fireside of the door? Why didn’t he say to get off?

  The walls clicked, locking into place. “Now, Rose!”

  Hands linked, the walls seeping intense heat, we jumped, landed on a broad ledge and watched the belt continue to move. When our boxes passed, Matthew squatted then lifted a trap door. He checked it, then looked at me. “Go on, Rose. Just slide down the chute.”

  Knowing the fire was beneath me somewhere, I told myself it wasn’t down the chute and I tried to move, but I couldn’t. My feet wouldn’t listen to my brain. They seemed fused to the metal ledge. I stared at Matthew in horror.

  He grabbed me by the arms. “You’re safe, Rose. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

  The fear drained from my body. I looked up at him—and he dropped me down the chute.

  I hit the slick metal slide with a healthy thump that stole my breath and slid through the darkness. Down… Down… Down…

  Above me, a low grinding noise sounded. It grew loud, then louder until it hurt my ears and jarred my teeth. Backlit by fire, I saw Matthew’s silhouette. He jumped into the chute.

  I hit the dirt with a hard thump and an unintended grunt. Pain shot through my arm, my back. Knowing Matthew was right behind me, I rolled aside and then just stopped.

  He landed beside me with a healthy “Humph!”

  It took a long moment for us both to recover.

  “You okay, honey?” he asked.

  “I’m okay.” I swallowed hard. “You okay?”

  He laughed.

  That should bother me. Him laughing at a moment like that. But it didn’t. I swatted at him and planted a kiss to his cheek—it was the only thing I could reach.

  He lifted me to him and kissed me hard.

  “I never want to do anything like that again,” I admitted. “I hope Mr. Perini isn’t planning that for Emily tomorrow.”

  “He wouldn’t do that. She’s being buried at Sampson Park.”

  “Clever.” I grinned. “The one place Victor Marcello can never go.”

  Matthew dusted the loose dirt from his hands. “We have to move.”

  “Paul said the process takes seventy minutes.”

  “Yes, and we need every one of them to get a head start. We don’t want to leave here at the same time they do. Who knows if they’re still here now? They might have left as soon as the oven door closed.”

  He had a point. “I’m all turned around. We went up, sideways, then down. Where are we?” I looked around. A dimly lit, barren dirt tunnel. “Underground?”

  “We went up a secondary flue—not in use obviously—then sideways through a passage outside the crematory, and then down a chute from inside the building to below ground. We’re at least three stories underground right now. At least, that’s how I remember it being described.”

  “We knew about this chute thing? I don’t remember it. Where was I went that happened?”

  “In the bathroom, I suspect, crying about Jackson. Seeing him grieving in the parking lot was hard on you.”

  It had been. “Well, probably best I didn’t know. Lord, I thought the heat would really kill me.”

  “The jeopardy was in getting out of the box and not falling off the ledge.” He looked back at me. “We need to move faster. Can you run in that dress?”

  The dirt was smooth, fine. I paused and removed my shoes then bunched up the skirt of my gown. “Ready.”

  “I do love a practical woman.”

  I smiled. “How long is it going to take us to get outside?”

  “About twenty minutes, unless we pick up the pace.”

  “Run.”

  He reached for my hand, clasped it, and side-by-side, we ran through the dim tunnels. Long before seeing an exit, my leg muscles burned, my calves ached, my feet turned leaden, sliding in the smooth dirt, and my breathing grew ragged and rough.

  “Need to slow down?”

  “We don’t dare.” It was all I could manage.

  It was more than enough.

  We kept running. A stitch hitched in my side. I pressed the arm holding the bunched skirt of my gown tight to my body, hoping the pressure would help and deepened my breathing. Then muscle spasms set in.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Muscle spasms. The heat. I got dehydrated.”

  “I’ll carry you.”

  “No. I can do it. I can.”

  “Rose, you don’t have to do this alone now. We’ve got each other. It’s okay to need me.”

  He knew exactly what troubled me. “I know. But I have to know I can help myself. I have to, Matthew.” I licked my parched lips and admitted that which I most feared telling anyone, even myself. “It’s about me not being afraid.”

  “I understand. Okay. Okay.” He started running again, but slowed his pace.

  I passed him, forcing him to run at the speed we had been running.

  Finally, in front of us, light appeared. We neared the end of the tunnel.

  Minutes later, we stepped outside, into the waning sun. Trees and hills of dirt surrounded us. The distant sound of cars on an asphalt road and a cool breeze blew across our skin. I let go of the skirt of my gown and listened to the birds, trilling a sweet tune. “What I wouldn’t give for a bottle of water.”

  “I’m surprised Mr. Perini didn’t stow some in the tunnel.”

  “He probably did. We didn’t check.”

  “True.” Matthew slowed the pace to a brisk walk. “It won’t be long and we’ll be to the car. Do you have the keys?”

  “Barry was afraid I’d lose them between there and the car, remember? Considering the chute, that was probably smart. He put them under the rear floor mat,” I reminded Matthew.

  Just short of a clearing in the woods, Matthew stopped. “You stay here. Let me circle around and make sure it’s safe.”

  “No. We’ll go together.”

  Whether that pleased or frustrated him, I couldn’t tell. But we stepped out into the clearing and hastily made our way to the other side of it, then back into the wood, grateful for its cover. “I didn’t expect this.” Sunlight filtered through the trees, dappled the forest floor. “Where exactly are we?” I’d expected to come up from down under in the town not far from the crematorium, not out in the middle of nowhere.

  “No idea, but it’s not important.” Matthew craned his neck, squinted his eyes, seeking. “Or it won’t be, once we find the car.”

  I looked in earnest for it, and saw nothing. My stomach sank. “I don’t see—”

  “There it is.” Matthew headed to the southeast, toward the green truck nearly obscured by small branches thick with leaves.

  “I missed it twice, knowing right where Paul said it would be,” Matthew complained.

  “I didn't see it, either.” I stepped on a crackling branch.

  He opened the door. “There’s a cooler.” Bending, he pulled two bottles of water, twisted off the tops and then passed one to me.

  I drank long and hard. The cold rushing down my throat was the best feeling. “Oh, that’s good.”

  Matthew upended his bottle and rinsed his face. “Then polished off the rest and put the bottle back in the cooler.”

  I opened my door and saw changes of clothes on the seat. I passed his to him and switched from my gown into the jeans and blue top. “Ah, that’s better.”

  “Definitely,” he
said, buttoning the last of the buttons on his shirt, then tossing the tux into the back seat. “Want more water?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  He grabbed two bottles, passed them to me, then slid into his seat and cranked the engine. The vent blew blessed cool air.

  I took another drink of water.

  Matthew stilled, then turned and looked at me. He seemed a little wonder-struck. “We did it, Rose.”

  “We did.”

  Laughing and crying at once, we hugged. “We did.” I kissed Matthew soundly.

  He kissed me back, then smiled. “What’s that for?”

  “Throwing me down the chute. I don’t know what happened. My feet wouldn’t work. I couldn’t move.”

  “You did fine. Better than fine. We’re finally free, Rose. Alive and free.” He pulled me closer, then kissed me again. Longer. Deeper. Full of fierce adrenaline and pure passion. When he separated our mouths, I expelled an unsteady breath. “Wow. Maybe I should freeze up more often.”

  Oddly, Matthew didn’t smile or whip out a snappy comeback. His laughter was gone and the man facing me was serious, somber. “Before we leave here, I need to know.”

  That he did need to know was clear. “What do you need to know?” That was not. But whatever it was, it really, really mattered to him.

  He hesitated.

  I pushed. “Just tell me, Matthew.”

  His knuckles knobbed on the steering wheel. “Did you marry me out of pity?”

  “Which time?”

  That earned me a glare I won’t soon be forgetting.

  “Either.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Relief replaced his uncertainty. “Why did you do it, then?”

  “I told you at Sampson Park.”

  He dragged a hand through his still damp hair. “I remember everything you told me at Sampson Park. But none of it explains why you wanted to sleep with me. You said us sleeping together would save you a trip to the loft.”

  “I did.”

  “We both know, I’d have been up there sleeping, which means we’d be sleeping together regardless.”

  “I guess it does.”

  “Was it just sex, Rose?”

  “No.” How could he even think that? But that he did made her wonder. “Was it for you?”

  Now he looked angry. “Of course not.”

  A burst of joy and pure relief washed through me. “That’s good to know.” I lifted my empty bottle. “Do we have more water. That fire was so hot. I thought I’d melt before that conveyer stopped. Or that it’d sear the flesh off my bones.”

  “Me, too. Rattled me a little, though I knew it was coming.” Popping the top on the cooler, he then passed me two more fresh bottles of water, then turned back in his seat and cranked the air-conditioner up another notch.

  “It was all I could do to make myself stay put.” I opened the bottle and passed it to him, then opened the second and took a long swallow. The cool felt comforting, going down my throat. “It had to be even worse for you. You were closer to the secondary chamber.”

  He emptied the bottle and reached for yet another. “I have a confession to make.” He motioned asking if I wanted another. When I refused, he closed the cooler and the lid snapped back into place. “Inside that box, I had one regret.”

  Maybe he was sorry he’d married me. If so, I didn’t want to hear it. Not now. But apparently now he intended to say it—whatever it was. “I’m sorry to hear that.” This couldn’t be good news. Regret and good news just didn’t travel together.

  “It kind of surprised me.” He glanced toward me. Well, out my side window.

  “Want to share it?” I held up a hand. “I’m not pushing, and if it’s awful, then actually, I think you should wait to share it because, well, it’s been an . . . emotional day. I’ve had about all I can take for today.”

  “It’s not awful,” he insisted, then thought again. “Well, it’s not awful to me. Actually, it’s pretty wonderful. But I don’t know. You might not like it. You might think it’s awful.”

  “Well, are you going to ponder all afternoon or tell me? What was your regret?”

  He put his water bottle in the cup holder and turned to me. “That if something went wrong, I’d die and you’d never know . . .” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “I love you, Rose.”

  The joy inside me ran so deep, filled me so full, I feared I couldn’t hold it all. That I’d float right off the seat and into the sky. And yet I knew. I’d always known. I’d run from it, hid from it, denied understanding it, terrified if I admitted it, it’d be snatched away and lost forever, but I’d known. I cupped his face with my hands, too tender to speak. For a long second, I just stared into his eyes, let him see all I felt for him without shields or barriers or fear. Finally, I gathered myself enough to give him the words. Like me, he needed them, and heart wide open, I gave him what he needed most. “I love you, too.”

  We kissed. A kiss unlike any kiss we’d shared before. Passion and heat, but tempered by love. And secure in his arms, the truth that dawned settled in and wove itself into the fabric of my life. Of his life. We became one.

  * * *

  I COULDN’T STOP smiling.

  Even half an hour later, cruising east on Interstate 10, feeling like a fool, I still couldn’t stop smiling. The only thing that saved a shred of my dignity was that Matthew was smiling, too.

  He turned the radio down. “So about this dream home of yours. The one you’ve got all the pictures of—”

  I dipped my sunglasses down to the tip of my nose. “We’re not going to find my dream home with a funeral parlor attached to it, hon.”

  “I don’t suppose we will.” He rotated his shoulder. “Guess we’ll have to build, then.”

  Oh, I loved him for that. He wanted me to have my dreams. I pinched myself. Felt the sting. Smiled again. “No, we really don’t.” I glanced at a white truck parked on the side of the road. Flat back tire. “The dream house doesn’t matter much anymore, though I still want a home.”

  He eyed me warily. “You kept a book. Nine hundred pictures. It does matter to you, which means it matters to me. I want you to have your dream home.”

  Bless his heart. I had fallen into a mess but I sure had ended up with a good man. “I already do.”

  That confused him. “Angel, I love your optimism, and I hate to wreck your good mood, but the moment, we’re homeless.” Worry lit in his eyes. “Did you hit your head when you fell down the chute?”

  “No, my head is fine.” I leaned deeply toward him. “But somewhere in all this, I discovered something.”

  He bent his head to mine. “What’s that?”

  “Home is not a house.” I leaned back, tugged a lock of hair away from his ear. “You’re my home, Matthew. And wherever we are, so long as we’re together, I’m home.”

  The look in his eyes warmed. That beloved twinkle filled them, and they shone overly bright. “Thank you, Rose.”

  He knew exactly what home meant to me. What it represented in my heart. I didn’t have to explain a thing. I kept the glasses down on the tip of my nose so I could see his eyes unfiltered. “It seems simple now, but it took me a while to figure it out.”

  “The important lessons in life always take time.”

  “Is that one from your mom?” He was full of little bits of wisdom his folks had passed down to him.

  “Actually, that one was my dad’s.”

  I wished again, as I had so many times at Sampson Park, I could have known Matthew’s parents. But in a way, I was coming to know them through the son they had raised. “On the house.”

  “Uh-huh?” He passed a pink Mary Kay car and eased back into the right lane.

  “I’m fine with one connected to a funeral home, though in all my dreams, that’s one thing I never pictured.”

  “Can’t say I expected one attached to my kitchen, either. I thought I’d be at Jameson Court until I died of old age.”

  “I hate it that Jameson Cou
rt is gone.”

  “It was a special place. But we’ll make another special place that’s ours,” he promised, then chuckled. “I still can’t believe we’re going to run a funeral home.”

  “Me either.” I grunted. “But Lester and Mr. Perini were right. It’s a healthy thing for us to do—help people get out of situations like we were in. What would we have done without Mr. Perini and Barry?”

  “We’d be wearing concrete shoes, sitting on the muddy bottom of the Mississippi River.”

  “That or be drowned in some bayou or swamp, acting as gator bait.” My skin crawled.

  Find a town and buy a funeral home. Mr. Perini had told us. Wire Dexter Devlin and we’ll get you the money to buy it. Learn how to run it, then in six months, let me know where you are and I’ll send you some customers. We’ll start our own brand of underground franchise.

  A franchise?

  Sure. Down & Dead, Inc. Dexter’s working on the papers. Oh, and get your notary.

  A franchise. I grinned. I couldn’t help it. Our bleak future had taken on a life and shape all its own. Our own kind of Sampson Park.

  We’re all somebody’s bridge.

  The sun slanted in through the windshield. I adjusted the visor to block it, and out fell a coin. My Grant half-dollar. “Mark?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think Jackson and Lester are tracking the truck.” I held up the Grant.

  “They’ll come for a visit soon enough, then.” He glanced over, seemingly unconcerned.

  “You knew they were tracking us?”

  “No, but come on, Rose. You can’t be that surprised.”

  I guess I wasn’t. They would come to visit. And likely Emily would be with them. Knowing it made me happy. “I still can’t believe Rachel didn’t come to the funeral. She would have, I’m sure, except—”

  “She has to live with Chris. I understand that.” He paused, then added, “I imagine their house hasn’t exactly been peaceful since Dexter Devlin told her Chris had mob connections.”

  “She’ll leave him,” I predicted. I couldn’t see their relationship working out any other way. “Rachel’s a straight up kind of woman.”

  “We’ll see--eventually.”

  We would. I thought back to everything that had happened from the moment I kissed the concrete and Detective Keller gave me the suck-lemon news about Edward Marcello. So much I could never have predicted or would ever have even considered possible. Now I knew there were people that specialized in the impossible, and it was pretty exciting to think we’d be among them. Giving people second chances, new starts where they didn’t have to be afraid or hurt, being their bridge . . .