She wouldn’t need two.
She grabbed a Coke out of the kitchen, took a breath. She’d planned on wearing her simple black dress, but with the Grecian style Granny had come up with, she reassessed as she went upstairs.
The black dress would work for anything, no question—and had already done service at three Friday Nights. She’d yet to wear the silver gray one she’d brought with her from her closet up North. It just didn’t suit Friday Nights. But for this . . .
Taking it out, she held it up in front of her, turned to the mirror. The lines were a little more fluid, more flowy, and would play up the hair. Not the black shoes now, she decided. They’d be too stark. But she had those blue sandals with the low heels—low heels would be more practical anyway when she’d likely be running around half the night.
And the dress had slit pockets, so she could slip her phone right in, have it handy.
Decision made, she dressed, added long dangling earrings and a trio of thin, sparkly bracelets from Callie’s dress-up box.
She packed toiletries, a change of clothes since she was having her own overnight at Griff’s after the party.
In an hour flat, and feeling pretty damn good about herself, she got back in her car and drove to the hotel.
Shelby figured she’d spent more time there in the past three weeks than she had in the whole of her life, but it still made her smile to make that turn up the rising road and see the spread of the big stone building through the trees.
She parked, took the slate path toward the wide front veranda, where two big white pots held red and white begonias with some trailing blue lobelia.
If Emma Kate and Matt decided to have their wedding here, she imagined those pots spilling with yellow and lavender flowers.
Some of the staff greeted her as she crossed over the wide-planked floor of the lobby, headed straight for the ballroom.
Decorating was well under way, and she saw, happily, that she’d been right. The deep purple cloths over the white added casual elegance, the perfect canvas for the bowls of white hydrangeas and clear, square holders holding white tea lights.
A mix of high- and low-tops, of chairs and stools.
She planned to echo that on the terrace, add some freestanding urns with white calla lilies and roses, some peonies and airy, trailing greenery.
It was all so Emma Kate.
Spotting the florist, Shelby moved to her. “Point me where you want me.”
By the time the future bride and groom arrived, everything was in place—and she saw from the look on her friend’s face, every hour of work, every drive up and back, every banging Bitsy headache had been worth it.
“Oh, Shelby.”
“Don’t start watering up! You’ll have me doing it, and we’ll ruin our makeup. We both look amazing.”
“It’s so beautiful. Everything I wanted, and more I didn’t know I wanted. It’s like a dream.”
“It was our dream.” She took Emma Kate’s hand, and Matt’s, joined them. “Now it’s your dream. I now pronounce you engaged.”
“We have one more favor.”
Shelby reached in her pocket, pulled out her fist. “I happen to have one favor left over, right here. What can I do?”
“Matt and I decided on our song—at least for now. ‘Stand by Me.’ You know it, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
“We want you to sing it tonight.”
“But you’ve got a band.”
“We really want you to sing it.” Emma Kate took Shelby’s hand between both of hers. “Would you please, Shelby? Just that one song. For us.”
“I’d be happy to. I’ll speak to the band about it. Right now we’re going to get you a drink, and I’m going to show you around before people start getting here and you don’t have a minute.”
“Griff’s right behind us,” Matt said. “In fact, here he is now.”
“Oh, well, my! Look at you.” She brushed a hand down the lapel of his dark gray suit, and thought how lucky it was she’d worn the pale gray dress. “You’re so dashing.”
“Goddess of the mountain,” he murmured. “You take my breath.”
He lifted her hand, kissed it. She flushed—something she’d taught herself not to do—as a redhead—while still in her teens. “Thank you, sir. The four of us do look nearly as wonderful as the room. I think we should have the first glasses of champagne. And Emma Kate, I want to show you the terrace. We’ve strung little white lights in the potted trees. It’s a fairyland.”
“Flowers and candles and fairy lights,” Griff commented as they toured the space. “All the sparkle, none of the fuss.”
“I cut miles of frills out of Miz Bitsy’s vision, but I really do think she’s going to be pleased with how it all turned out. We might have a storm coming in, but not until after midnight.”
She tapped her pocket and her phone. “I keep checking my weather app, and so far, so good. There’s Miz Bitsy now. And doesn’t she look pretty in her long red dress? I’d better go talk to her.”
“Want backup?”
She grabbed his hand. “Do I ever.”
• • •
SHE DANCED WITH HIM. It didn’t occur to her until later that not once did a memory of other formal parties and elegant dress intrude. She never thought of Richard, who’d worn a tux as if he were born in one.
Everything centered on the moment.
Dancing with her father, who pulled out some of the ballroom moves he’d retained from when Ada Mae had nagged him into lessons. And her grandfather, who swung her into some clogging—and there her muscle memory wasn’t as keen as his—when the band kicked it up a few licks. With Clay, who hadn’t inherited any rhythm at all, and with Forrest, who’d taken Clay’s share of it.
“How’d you get in here?” she asked Forrest. “You’re not wearing a tux or even a suit and tie.”
“It’s the badge.” He circled her in a smooth two-step. “I told Miz Bitsy I was on duty.”
“Are you?”
He only grinned. “I consider myself always on duty, and I haven’t worn a monkey suit since senior prom. I hope to continue that winning streak.”
“Nobby’s wearing one.”
“He is, but he swore to back me up on the on-duty excuse.”
“What’d you bribe him with?”
“A fancy coffee and a couple bear claws fresh from the bakery.”
She laughed, circled with him.
“You look as good as it gets tonight, little sister.”
“I feel as good as it gets tonight, big brother. Look how happy everybody is. Emma Kate could light the place up all on her own.”
“Stealing her back,” Griff said as he cut in.
“I could arrest you for that, but I’ll let it go. There’s a blonde over there who looks like she could use some company.”
Shelby glanced over. “Her name’s Heather. She worked with Emma Kate at the hospital in Baltimore. She’s single.”
“That works.”
Griff drew Shelby in as Forrest wandered toward the blonde. “You’ve got a hit on your hands, Red.”
“I know it.” She slid her hands up his back, pressed her cheek to his. “It feels so good—just like you. I was just saying how happy everybody is. It’s so nice knowing people are happy for Emma Kate and Matt. And Miz Bitsy— Oh, there she goes, tearing up again, and bolting toward the ladies’. I’ll just go take care of that.”
Shelby turned her head, brushed a kiss over his cheek. “It shouldn’t take long—or it could take twenty minutes if it’s a genuine crying jag. I’ll probably appreciate another glass of champagne once I handle this.”
“I’ll make sure it’s waiting.”
She started for the doors, and the restrooms beyond them. And pulled out her phone when it rang.
“Miz Suzannah? Is everything a
ll right?”
“It’s nothing much, honey. It’s just Callie forgot Fifi, and she’s heartbroken. We didn’t realize it until we were getting them into bed. I’ve tried substitutes, but she’s just set on her Fifi.”
“I don’t know how I could’ve sent her off to you without Fifi. We don’t want her first overnight spoiled. I’ll just run to the house and get Fifi, drop her off. It won’t take fifteen minutes for me to get there.”
“I’m so sorry to interrupt and cause you that trouble. My Bill would go get the dog, but I know your mama’s been locking up.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m on my way now. Tell Callie I’m bringing Fifi.”
She spotted Crystal on her way to the ladies’. “I’ve got a favor to ask. Miz Bitsy’s in there, crying a little, just happy, you know how it is, and emotional. I’ve got to run get Fifi for Callie. Could you just soothe Miz Bitsy—or ask Granny to—and let Griff know, if you see him, I’ll be back in under a half hour.”
“Sure, I will. You want me to go get Fifi?”
“Thank you, but I’ll be quick.”
“Oh, here! I meant to give you this at the salon. The lipstick I used on you.”
“Thank you, Crystal. Keep this party going!”
“You can count on me.”
Hurrying off, Shelby shoved the lipstick in her right pocket, the phone in her left. She cast her mind back to packing for Callie. She knew she’d had Fifi right there, but . . .
She saw it now, Callie picking up the stuffed dog to talk to it about their sleepover.
And carting the dog with her when she’d followed her mama into the other bedroom.
“On the windowsill,” she remembered. How she’d overlooked that, she’d never know.
That was all right—she’d be back again before anyone missed her. And Callie and Fifi would be reunited.
She cut around town as a Saturday night in the summer could be busy, and made it to the house in under ten minutes. Grateful for the low heels, she ran for the door. They’d scheduled her song for midway through the evening, so she had thirty minutes to spare. But no more.
She dashed straight upstairs, into her bedroom.
“There you are, Fifi. I’m so sorry you got left behind.” She plucked the much-loved dog off the windowsill, turned to rush right back out again.
And he stepped into the doorway. The dog slipped out of her numb fingers as he moved toward her.
“Hello, Shelby. Long time, no see.”
“Richard.”
His hair was dark, a deep, unfamiliar brown, and fell in careless waves well over his collar. Thick scruff covered the lower half of his face. He wore a camo T-shirt and rough khaki pants with scarred army boots. A combination he wouldn’t have been caught dead in.
Oh God.
“They—they said you were dead.”
“They said what I wanted them to say. It didn’t take you long to go running back home, and spreading your legs for some carpenter. Did you cry for me, Shelby?”
“I don’t understand.”
“You never did understand much of anything. I guess we’ve got to have a long talk, you and I. Let’s go.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He reached casually behind his back, drew out a gun. “Yes, you are.”
The gun in his hand struck her just as unbelievable as all the rest. “Are you going to shoot me? For what? I don’t have anything you could want.”
“Did have.” He nodded toward the photo on her dresser. She saw now he’d taken it apart.
“I know you, Shelby. You’re so damn simple. One thing you’d never get rid of—that picture you gave me of you and the kid. If they picked me up, they’d still have nothing. I kept what I needed with my lovely wife and daughter.”
“Behind our picture,” she murmured. “What did you hide there?”
“Key to the kingdom. We’ll talk. Let’s go.”
“I’m not—”
“I know where she is,” he said quietly. “Spending the night with her little friend Chelsea. At the grandmother’s. Maybe I’ll just go over there, pay Callie a visit.”
Fear sliced through her, a knife to the bone. “No. No, you stay away from her. You leave her be.”
“I’ll kill you right here where your family will find you. If I have to handle it that way, the kid’s my next stop. Your choice, Shelby.”
“I’ll go. Just leave Callie alone, and I’ll go with you.”
“Damn right you will.” He gestured her out of the room with the gun. “So predictable—always were, always will be. I knew you were a born mark the first time I saw you.”
“Why don’t you just take what you came for and go? We don’t mean anything to you.”
“And how far would I get before you called your cop brother?” As they stepped out of the house, he put an arm tight around her waist, pressed the gun into her side. “We’re going to walk down a little bit, take my car. A minivan, Shelby? You’re an embarrassment to me.”
That tone, that pitying tone. How often had she heard it? “I’m nothing to you, never was.”
“Oh, you were so useful.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, made her shudder. “And at first, hell, you were even fun. God knows you were eager in the sack. This one. Get in, climb over. You’re going to drive.”
“Where are we going?”
“A little place I know. Quiet. Private. It’s just what we need for a heart-to-heart.”
“Why aren’t you dead?”
“You’d like that.”
“I swear on all that’s in me, I would.”
He shoved her into the car, forcing her to crawl over to the driver’s seat.
“I never did anything to you. I did what you wanted, went where you wanted. I gave you a child.”
“And bored the crap out of me. Drive, and keep it to the speed limit. You go over, you go under, I’ll shoot you in the gut. It’s a painful way to die.”
“I can’t drive if I don’t know where I’m going.”
“Take the back roads around that hole-in-the-wall you call a town. Try anything, Shelby, I’ll take you out, then I go after the kid. I’ve got too much at stake, and I’ve worked and waited for it too long to let you fuck it up.”
“You think I care about the jewelry, the money? Take it and go.”
“Oh, I will. First thing Monday morning. If you hadn’t come into the bedroom, you’d never have known I was there. As it is, we’ll have a reunion weekend, then I’m gone. Just do what you’re told, like always, and you’ll be fine.”
“They’ll look for me.”
“And they won’t find you.” Sneering, he pressed the barrel of the gun into her side. “Jesus, you stupid bitch, do you think I’ve outwitted the cops all this time and can’t keep ahead of a bunch of Barney Fifes for a day? Take this turn coming up, to the right. Nice and easy.”
“Your partner’s been around. Jimmy Harlow. Maybe he’ll have better luck finding you.”
“I don’t think so.”
His tone froze her blood.
“What did you do?”
“Found him first. Steady on these switchbacks. I wouldn’t want this gun to go off.”
Her insides quaked, but she kept her hands steady as she negotiated the tight wind of the climb.
“Why did you marry me?”
“It served my purpose at the time. I never could smooth you out, though, never could make anything out of you. Listen to you, look at you, I gave you plenty of money, taught you how to buy the right clothes, how to give a decent dinner party, and you’re still the ignorant hick from the Tennessee hills. It’s amazing I haven’t bashed what brains you have out before now.”
“You’re a thief and a swindler.”
“That’s right, honey.” His sneer shifted to a cheerful grin.
“And I’m damn good at it. You? You’ve never been good at anything. Take this excuse for a road on the left. Nice and slow now.”
He might’ve thought her ignorant, useless, malleable, but she knew the hills. And had a reasonable idea where they were going.
“What happened in Miami? All those years ago,” she asked, wanting to keep him talking, distract him as she slid her left hand into her pocket.
“Oh, we’ll talk about that. We’ve got a lot of things to talk about.”
Texting while driving, she thought, struggling not to give way to hysteria, was dangerous.
She hoped to God she managed to do it right.
Because while she knew the hills, she thought she knew the man beside her now. And she believed he meant to kill her before he was done.
30
The country-dark road twisted like a snake as it climbed, and gave her an excuse to ease off the gas. She let the fear show—no point in pride—and the show of fear could be another weapon. Or at least a shield, she thought, as she slipped her hand into her pocket, and prayed she could manage a coherent message.
“Why didn’t you just run?”
“I don’t run,” he said with that same self-satisfied smile on his face. “I navigate. You were just what I needed to make my new ID solid after the Miami job. It didn’t take me long to realize you’d be useless on the grift, but you made for a good temporary cover.”
“Nearly five years, Richard?”
“I never figured to keep you around that long, then you got knocked up. I think on my feet,” he reminded her. “Who’s going to look for a family man, a man with a hick wife and a baby? And I had to wait for the take to cool down. And for Melinda to get out. She made a hell of a deal—you have to give her credit. I’d thought she’d get double what they gave her, and that would’ve been plenty of time for cooling off and covering my tracks. But she always could surprise me.”
“You killed her.”
“How could I? I’m dead, remember? Make this right. Nearly there.”
Nothing back here, she thought, but a couple of cabins—at least that’s all there’d been when she’d left the Ridge.
She hit Send—she hoped—because she had to put her left hand back on the wheel.
The Liar Page 47