Hometown Girl

by Margaret Watson

  “Sure. Every guy needs to learn to drive a truck.” Tucker gently punched his shoulder. “Take a look at the back of the car, Nick. See if there are any new dents since you washed the car.”

  Nick stood up, then moved to the rear of the car and bent to study it.

  “Thank you,” Claire said to Tucker in a low voice. “Thank you for distracting him.” Her throat thickened and she stopped talking. Finally she managed to say, “I knew this would be hard for him.”

  “And for you.” He stroked her face with a featherlight touch, gently brushing away a tear. “Do you want me to take you driving, too?”

  She gave him a shaky smile. “Thanks, but I’ll stick to my sissy car.”

  He took her hand, brought it to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Take a look here.” He outlined the dent in the fender. “It makes me think Nick might be right, that Janice’s death wasn’t accidental.”

  “What?” Ice congealed in her veins. She wanted to make sure Nick knew she wasn’t dismissing him, but she hadn’t really believed there was anything to his fears.

  “See these scrape marks?” He pointed to an ugly gouge in the metal. “There’s some red paint in these scrapes. Like another car bumped her.”

  Claire stared at the marks, her brain frozen, unable to believe what Tucker was saying.

  He stood up. “You find anything in the back of the car?” he asked Nick.

  “I don’t know.” Nick sounded bewildered. “There’s a dent back here, too.”

  “Let’s see.”

  Tucker went to the back of the car, squatted next to Nick. He was careful not to touch the metal. “More scrapes. And more red paint.”

  Nick stared at him. “You think I’m right? You think someone pushed Mom off the road?”

  “I have no idea, Nick,” Tucker said, standing up. “But I think we should let Chief Broderick know about these dents. I think he’ll want to follow up with this.”

  “WHAT DO WE DO NOW?” Nick asked, turning to her with an expectant look as they headed back to Monroe.

  Wedged between Tucker and Nick on the bench seat of Tucker’s truck, Claire gratefully turned to Nick. She was far too aware of Tucker’s thigh brushing against hers as he drove, the nudge of his elbow against her breast when he turned the steering wheel.

  “I’m going to talk to Chief Broderick on Monday,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll want to have a look at the car.”

  “We should go talk to him today,” Nick said, his voice raw with urgency. “What if something happens to the car?”

  “The man at the junkyard promised he’d take care of the car,” she reminded him. “He’ll put it inside and keep an eye on it until he hears from Chief Broderick.”

  Nick’s shoulders slumped and her heart twisted. “How about if I call the station when we get home and find out if he’s there?” she said.

  “I guess.” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “What else are we going to do?”

  “I’m going to talk to the people Janice worked with. I saw Derek Joiner at the game last night. I told him I’d come by to pick up Janice’s things.”

  Nick scowled. “Is he that slick-looking blond dude?”

  “You could describe him that way,” she answered cautiously. “Do you know him?”

  “Not really. He came by the house a couple of times.”

  “Was your mother dating him?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Nick turned to look out the window. “I didn’t like him.”

  “Why not?” Tucker asked.

  “He tried to suck up to me. Acting like he was my best friend.” Nick scowled again. “Trying to be so cool.”

  “If he was dating your mother, naturally he’d want you to like him,” Tucker said in a neutral voice.

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t.” Nick slumped in the seat, staring out the windshield. Suddenly he looked over at Tucker. “My mom and I didn’t need him,” he burst out. “I heard him talking to her. He wanted to help her. We didn’t need any help. We were just fine on our own.”

  “I guess that’s the last time I get to paint with you guys, then, huh?” Tucker drawled.

  Nick flushed a bright red. “That’s different,” he muttered. “You wanted to help us.” He gave Tucker a sidelong glance. “Didn’t you?”

  “You bet.” Tucker gave him a lazy grin. “Watching your aunt with a paint roller was quite the sight.”

  “Yeah, well, Mr. Joiner didn’t really want to help us. I could tell by his fake smile.”

  Claire glanced at Nick, wondering what to say. “I’ll go to your mom’s office on Monday,” she said. “I’ll talk to the people she worked with.”

  “Like they’re going to know anything?”

  “You never know. People who work together know a lot about each other.”

  “Whatever.”

  Nick looked out the window, but not before she saw the bright sheen of tears in his eyes again. She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze.

  After a moment, Nick squeezed back. She stared straight ahead, holding on to Nick’s hand, her vision suddenly blurred by her own tears.

  “I DON’T RIGHTLY KNOW what Janice was doing.” The older woman sitting behind the desk in city hall on Monday morning gave her a doubtful look. “None of us worked for anyone special,” she said. “We all did for everyone.”

  Claire glanced at her name tag. “Was anything different about Janice in the last week or two, Ms. Shelton?”

  “You can call me Annamae, hon,” the woman said. “And no, Janice didn’t seem any different than usual.”

  “I’m sorry,” Claire said. “It must seem odd, asking all these questions about my sister. But Nick, her son, misses her terribly.” She lowered her voice. “I thought if I could tell him what she was doing, how important her job was, he’d feel a little better.”

  And since Chief Broderick wasn’t in the office and wouldn’t be until tomorrow, she needed to have something to tell Nick.

  Annamae melted with sympathy, as Claire had hoped. “Oh, hon, you tell him that his mom was the best worker here. Why, even the mayor always looked for her first when he had a job for us.”

  “Really? The mayor?”

  “Yes, indeed. Mayor Denton was very pleased with your sister’s work. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Janice was a fine-looking woman. The mayor has an eye for the ladies.” Annamae’s mouth curled into a faintly disapproving frown.

  “Mr. Joiner spoke to me at the football game last week,” Claire said. “He seemed to think a lot of Janice, too. Did she do a lot of work for him?”

  Annamae gave her a sly smile. “We thought Derek had more in mind for Janice than work,” she said. “He was always sniffing around her. And she didn’t seem to mind.”

  Claire looked around, as if to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard, then leaned closer. “Do you think they might have been involved?”

  Annamae’s eyes sparkled. “Janice was a good woman. Derek could have done a lot worse.”

  “So Janice wasn’t upset about anything right before her accident?”

  “Oh, my, no,” the woman responded. “If anything, she seemed excited about something.” She winked. “That’s why I wondered about her and Derek.” Annamae studied Claire, her eyes sympathetic. “That accident was a real tragedy.”

  “Yes.” Claire struggled to maintain her composure. “There were some marks on the car we don’t understand. Almost as if Janice crashed into something before her car left the road. That’s why I’m asking if she was upset about anything.”

  “Just the opposite of upset,” Annamae assured her. “Like she had big news and couldn’t tell anyone.”

  Someone touched Claire’s arm and she spun around. Derek Joiner stood behind her, a little too close.

  “Hello, Claire,” he said, a tight smile on his face. “You’ve come for Janice’s things?”

  “Yes,” she said, turning back to the woman in front of her. “Excuse me, Annamae.”

  D
erek placed his hand in the small of her back and steered her toward an office along the wall. “I have her things in here. I put them aside after I spoke to you.”

  The sleek, modern furnishings of his office felt out of place in the ornate old building. An area rug that was a bold slash of color covered the glowing patina of the hardwood floors, and a painting of geometric patterns in black and white hung on the wall. A cardboard box was the only thing on the surface of his desk.

  Claire looked down at the box that held Janice’s belongings. How easy it was to wipe away all traces of her from the office where she’d worked. “Thank you for taking the time to get her things together.”

  “We all miss Janice,” he said.

  Claire studied him. “Did Janice have any particular friends here? Anyone she might have confided in?”

  Derek smiled, but his eyes were wary. “Janice was friendly to everyone.” He looked over at the door, and relief flashed across his face. “Isn’t that right, Mayor?”

  Fred Denton stood in the doorway, watching Claire and Derek. “She sure was,” he said. He smiled, but his eyes were flat. “Everyone liked Janice.”

  Claire’s heart jumped. She lifted the box and clutched it to her chest, forcing herself to acknowledge the mayor. Tension shivered in the air of the office, closed around her chest like a vise. If these walls could talk, could they tell her what had happened to her sister?

  Her hands tightened on the box. “Thank you, Derek, for gathering her things for me.”

  The younger man’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “If you have any questions about Janice’s work, I’ll be happy to answer them for you.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Claire edged out of the office, leaning back to avoid brushing against the mayor. She could feel both men’s eyes on her as she walked away.

  She paused at Annamae Shelton’s desk. “Thanks for your help, Annamae. Will you call me if you think of anything else I can tell her son?”

  “Of course I will, honey.” She reached out and patted Claire’s hand. “You tell that boy of hers that his mama talked about him all the time. She was so proud of him that she like to burst the buttons on her blouse.”

  “Thank you,” Claire whispered, her chest tightening. “He’ll appreciate hearing that.”

  “And I’ll ask the others if Janice said anything to them.”

  “Thanks.” Seeing the avid curiosity in the other woman’s face, Claire knew everyone in the office would hear about her visit. “It was nice meeting you, Annamae.”

  “Likewise.” She studied Claire. “Janice said her sister had a big job in the city. You look like a city girl.”

  Claire nodded, not sure if that was a compliment or an insult. “I’ll be talking to you.”

  “You take care, honey.” Annamae’s voice trailed her out of the office. Claire stepped out into the sunshine and took a deep, trembling breath of fresh air.

  Her conversation with Annamae Shelton had gone just as she’d hoped. Claire couldn’t question all the women in the secretarial pool, but Annamae would do that for her. If anything unusual had been going on with Janice in the weeks before she died, Claire was confident she’d hear about it.

  As she headed away from city hall a shiver crawled up her spine, as if someone was watching her. She spun around, but the street was deserted. The flat, gray light from the cloudy sky turned the windows of city hall into a mirror, obscuring her view into the building.

  Feeling oddly unsettled, she walked to her car and slid inside. She glanced at the police station as she drove past, disappointed she hadn’t been able to talk to Chief Broderick. She wanted to tell him about Janice’s car.

  Just when she was becoming more comfortable in Monroe, she had to consider the possibility that someone in the town had murdered her sister. Sick at heart, she held the steering wheel tightly as she drove back to the house.

  In spite of her growing friendship with Judy Johnson, in spite of Nick’s devotion to the football team and his determination to stay, they were leaving Monroe when the football season was over.

  Tucker drifted into her mind, giving her a lazy smile, teasing her in his slow drawl. Regret was sharp and deep. She would miss Tucker. And so would Nick.

  That was just another reason to leave. There was no future for her and Tucker. They wanted different things out of life, had different goals and dreams. Still, his presence in their lives was becoming addictive.

  Not to mention his kisses.

  It had been a mistake to allow him to become so involved. Better to leave soon, before she had the chance to get more deeply involved with him. Better to break it off cleanly, before she had time to make another mistake.

  Better to protect her heart, even if she had to run away to do it.

  Running away was the coward’s way out, a small voice murmured.

  She ignored it. Running away was the sensible thing to do.

  She knew how to run away. She was an expert at it.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  A DARK SENSE OF DANGER CLUNG to Claire as she turned into her driveway after her visit to city hall. The midday streets were deserted, the town silent as she stepped onto the front porch. Suddenly her skin prickled and the hairs on the back of her neck rose. She whirled around.

  There was no one on the quiet street, no cars in the road. She was alone. She shook her head and walked into the cool quiet of the house. Since they’d found the paint scratches in Janice’s car on Saturday, her imagination was running wild. Suddenly there was menace everywhere.

  Which just proved how tightly wound she’d become. She’d always prided herself on her pragmatic view of life. Never before had her imagination spun far-fetched tales of murder and conspiracy or built wildly improbable stories from a few tiny scraps of information.

  She sat down at her desk and tried to concentrate on her work, but the numbers on the pages swam in front of her. Another pot of coffee did nothing to help.

  Getting up from her desk, she prowled through the house, looking for something to distract her, something to take her mind off the fear that had her in its grip.

  She stopped at the front window of the house. An aura of menace waiting, poised to strike, sent a chill shivering through her. The sky was a dull gray, the air thick and heavy, weighted down with the ominous stillness that came before a violent thunderstorm. She wanted Nick at home, safe in the house with her.

  Football practice wouldn’t be over for more than an hour. Restless and too edgy to work, she slipped on her gardening gloves and headed into the yard.

  An hour later she was digging up canna tubers when Nick appeared out of the woods at the back of their property. He froze when he saw her.

  “Hi, Nick,” she said, standing up and pulling off her gloves. “Why are you coming that way?”

  He shrugged and didn’t meet her gaze. “I dunno.”

  “Did someone give you a ride home?”

  “Yeah,” he said, nodding hard and shuffling his feet. “One of the seniors lives on the other side of the woods. He gave me a ride.” His gaze met hers then skittered away.

  Fear rushed through her. What was wrong? What was Nick trying to hide? “Come and have a snack while I make dinner,” she said, forcing herself to smile.

  “No, thanks. I’ll wait for dinner,” he muttered.

  As soon as he stepped into the house he hurried up the stairs to his room, grabbing the phone on the way. She could hear his low voice, speaking urgently to someone, before the door to his room closed.

  When she called him down to dinner a half hour later, he slid into his chair without looking at her. He shoveled food into his mouth and gave short, monosyllabic answers to her questions. He’d barely swallowed the last bite of food before he pushed away from the table with a muttered “excuse me.”

  She watched him leave, worried and afraid.

  She’d barely finished putting the food away when Nick came clattering down the stairs. “I’m going over to Booger’s house,” he announced
without looking her in the eye. “We have to work on a project for English class.”

  “All right,” she said, struggling to keep her voice calm. “Make sure you’re home by nine o’clock.”

  He nodded and hurried through the front door, clutching a notebook to his chest. She watched as he hurried down the sidewalk and disappeared from sight.

  Minutes later, a low roll of thunder rumbled through the air. When she looked outside, she saw the sky was dark with angry clouds. A few fat drops of rain hit the sidewalk, lightning flashed, then the heavens opened.

  Nick shouldn’t be outside walking in a thunderstorm. She grabbed her car keys and ran out the door. By the time she slid into the car, she was soaking wet.

  She drove to the Johnsons’ house but didn’t see him. He must have started running as soon as the first raindrops fell, she thought uneasily. But what if he didn’t go to Booger’s? What if he never intended to go to Booger’s? The memory of his hunched shoulders, and inability to meet her gaze, filled her head. Nick was hiding something.

  Maybe Judy would know. Bright flashes of lightning crashed across the sky, illuminating the Johnsons’ house with each strike. Lights flickered in the house, then steadied. Claire dialed Judy’s number, worry dampening her palms and tightening her chest.

  When Judy assured her that Nick and Booger had arrived moments earlier, Claire thanked her and closed the phone, staring at the curtain of rain outside the car window. Maybe Nick had just had a bad day at school.

  Rain drummed on the roof of her car and water sheeted down the windshield. Claire closed her eyes, wondering what to do. She didn’t want to make a misstep, didn’t want to destroy the fragile relationship she and Nick had started to build. But she didn’t want to ignore possible signs of trouble, either.

  “Tell me what to do, Janice,” she whispered. “Tell me about your boy. Tell me how to help him.”

  The rain eased and she started the car. But instead of returning home, she impulsively drove in the other direction. In minutes she was past the town, driving through the twilight toward the lake where Janice died.

  It had been raining that night, too. Claire needed to see the road for herself, feel how slippery it was on the curve where Janice had gone through the guardrail. She needed to stand at the place where Janice died, to see if any part of Janice lingered there.