Walker Texas Wife (The Book Cellar Mysteries 1)

by Melissa Storm

  Vi shoved her keys into her purse and went to investigate the crying like some superhero for sadness. The wooden gate that shut off the yards hung ajar. Not bothering to knock, Vi tugged the gate open and trespassed yet again onto the Kings’ property.

  Her stomach bottomed out at the sight of Annabeth sobbing. The light from the security lamps made her hair look almost crimson.

  Vi took a deep breath, her senses assaulted by a strong metallic odor. As she got closer she saw the origins of the smell—blood. Annabeth was covered in it.

  Vi rested her hand on Annabeth’s shoulder and stooped down to be at her eye level.

  “Annabeth, you’re covered in blood! What happened? Are you hurt?”

  Her head rose slowly from the nest of her bent arm. There were wide streaks of red across her cheek and her eyes were puffy.

  What the heck happened?

  Vi stumbled back a step. Her breath quickened and her mouth wet dry.

  “Annabeth?” A knot of fear gripped Vi from deep within her belly. Maybe Brooke had been right to be wary of the new neighbors.

  “Annabeth, please...you’re scaring me.”

  “He... I... we had a fight.” Annabeth’s flat affect and robotic tone did nothing to ease Vi’s unrest.

  She twisted her hands together as she debated whether to flee and call the cops. Had Marcus done this to her? He had seemed like such a nice man, but weren’t all batterers charming? No one ever really knows what goes on behind their neighbors’ closed doors.

  “Did Marcus hurt you?”

  “What? No!” Annabeth said, almost shouting. Vi let out a relieved sigh. Annabeth reached for a bottle of scotch that rested on the table in front of her. She took a good long drink before she turned back to Vi, nodding with a sullen expression.

  “It’s my fault. If he dies...” Annabeth began sobbing again.

  Vi’s heart hammered in her chest. “What?”

  Panic began to set in.

  Maybe I need to just learn to mind my own business. Hoe your own row, Mama used to say.

  Even if she wanted to bolt, she was frozen in place. She just couldn’t leave her alone—not like this. So she reached for the lawn chair behind her and sat down across from her.

  Annabeth twisted her body toward Vi. The security lamp above them spotlighted the sling that held Annabeth’s splinted arm in place.

  “What happened to your arm?”

  Annabeth looked down at her wrapped wrist like she had forgotten all about it. “I was mugged.”

  Vi leaned closer in to make sure she had heard correctly. “Wait...you were mugged?”

  I’m so confused. What the heck happened tonight?

  Annabeth took another drink of her scotch. “After my last class, I was walking alone. So stupid. I know, I know. I should have had someone walk with me...so stupid.”

  Vi took a sharp breath. “Are you all right? Is it broken?”

  Annabeth took another drink before she shook her head no.

  Vi sighed. Her patience was beginning to grow thin. As if her life wasn’t complicated enough, she has to come home to a barely coherent neighbor crying and covered in blood. Real life wasn’t supposed to play out like some Lifetime Movie.

  “Okay, so let me get this straight. You were mugged after class tonight and then what happened?”

  “Fin hit the assailant over the head with a brick. I don’t even know where it came from. If he hadn’t come when he did—” She interrupted herself with two successful hiccups.

  Vi grabbed her drunken neighbor by the chin and looked her in the eye, just like she did with Joy when she needed her attention. “What happened after that?”

  She pouted as she looked at the almost empty bottle. “Marcus came all the way downtown to fight—took a hundred dollar cab ride to get there.” Annabeth stared at the amber liquid at the bottom the bottle. “He got all pissy, like he always does—thinking he owns me. I don’t owe him a thing. Especially after what he did.”

  “What did he do?” Vi asked.

  Annabeth started to sob again. “He slept with the freaking bartender. He says he was drunk…I don’t know. We’d been fighting about the case and the law suit all night and he just stormed off to the bar.” Annabeth downed the rest of the bottle and grimaced. “He came home hungover and sorry.”

  Annabeth wiped at the tears that fell in earnest. “A bartender. He didn’t even know her name. But I do. Beth. Beth the slut.”

  Before Vi could say a word Annabeth started up again. “When we took this job, and had to pick new names…. You should have seen his face when I picked Annabeth. I didn't want him to forget for a minute what he had done to me.”

  Vi shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand, Annabeth. What job?”

  Annabeth paused as if she had just then caught up with processing the words she had spoken. A look of dread fell across her tearstained features as she began to tremble. The woman before her was a stark contrast to the one who had introduced herself to Vi just a week and half ago. Had it really only been a little over a week?

  Annabeth sighed, “Man, I’m a total screw-up.”

  Vi clasped her hands together to keep herself from shaking her neighbor senseless. Brooke had been spot on. These people had some seriously messed up stuff going on. Maybe if she could calm herself then Annabeth would calm down as well. Then maybe they could get somewhere.

  After taking in another cleansing breath she reached out for Annabeth’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have Ricky cheat on her.

  “Annab—”

  “I can’t do this anymore, Vi. I mean—I thought leaving the Bureau would make things better. I thought…I don’t know.” Annabeth hiccupped and swallowed hard. For a second Vi thought she might throw up right then and there.

  “Sometimes it helps to talk. Have you talked to anyone about what you’ve been going through?”

  Annabeth scrunched up her nose. “Like a shrink? No!”

  Vi smiled and let out a tired sigh. “Annabeth, you can talk to me. I want you to know that I’m here for you. You don’t have to go through all of this alone. And anything we talk about stays here. I’m bound by my code of ethics to keep all of this confidential.”

  Annabeth seemed to weigh her offer. After a long pause she wet her lips. “Call me Anna.”

  Vi relaxed into the chair, mirroring Annabeth’s posture. She let the silence fall between them. A simple therapeutic trick she knew that worked to draw out reluctant clients like Anna. It of course worked like a charm.

  “When I joined the Bureau I thought I would make a difference. Make the world a better place.” Anna fiddled with the ring she wore on her left hand—her wedding band.

  “The FBI?” Vi leaned in closer to Anna.

  Annabeth met her eye and paused as if she was debating whether or not to go any further. Vi backed off and honed in on the distant sound of the cars on the main highway. The stillness of the night was always a comfort to her. It seemed that her neighbor, however, found no comfort in anything except maybe the liquor she had downed. Annabeth eyed the nearly empty bottle—as if reading Vi’s mind—but didn’t reach for it. Instead she raised her sleepy looking eyes and met Vi’s gaze head on.

  “I was with the FBI a couple of years, but the FBI and I decided it was a bad fit for me, for both of us. So we left.”

  “We?”

  Annabeth nodded. “Marc…I shouldn’t be telling you any of this. This is crazy.” Annabeth pushed off the table like she was going to get up, but Vi reached out to stop her.

  “Annabeth, you don’t have to talk to me, but you really should talk to someone.”

  That seemed to work, as Annabeth stayed seated. “You can’t tell anyone, Vi. This isn’t just some tidbit of gossip that you can run and tell Jesse.”

  Vi bit her lip and nodded. “No one has to know any of this—least of all Jesse.”

  Annabeth took a shaky breath. “Okay…” A shiver rippled t
hrough her body. “Everything’s been a lie, Vi. I’m not married and Marc and I didn’t move to Herald Springs just so I could go back to school. I’m a P.I.—a lousy one at that.”

  Of all the things Anna could have said, that was not at all what she had expected. Though it was a relief, considering the myriad of things she could have said. Suddenly the information that she and Brooke had found in the Kings’ house made perfect sense. The files of the girls must be related to the case they were working on.

  Vi didn’t move, afraid to scare her off. “Annabeth, what happened with Marcus tonight?”

  Annabeth choked on a sob and looked away from Vi as a fresh set of tears slid down her cheeks.

  Vi pulled a tissue out of her purse and handed it to her.

  “Thanks.” She dabbed at her blotchy face and looked dismayed when she pulled the tissue away and saw blood.

  “Anna...Where is Marc now?”

  “The hospital,” she said, choking on the words. “We were fighting. And I’m just so tired of having the same fight over and over again. You know?”

  Anna twisted the balled up tissue with her good hand and bit her lip. When Vi didn’t respond, she continued. Her clear, resolute tone barely disguised the underlying anger that was simmering just beneath the surface.

  “So I walked away. I didn't think he would follow me. The car... the doctor said there was a lot of swelling and they had to put him in a coma. They don’t know if he will make it.”

  “Dear, God,” Vi said as she crossed herself. “He was hit by a car?”

  “The last words I said to him were that I never wanted to see him again.” Her body shook.

  Vi hugged Annabeth hard and prayed. As the sobs began to subside she gave her a tight squeeze. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

  Annabeth wiped at her face with the wrecked tissue. “Okay.”

  Her body buzzed with the information she had been given. One thing she knew for certain was that Brooke couldn't know the truth about Annabeth. She would just make it worse. Even if she didn’t mean to.

  Vi had never lied to her best friend before, but it couldn’t be helped. Too much was already at stake.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Brooke

  It was already Tuesday, and the gala would be here on Friday. Even though there was zero time to spare, Brooke sat on her favorite wingback chair, her legs pulled up into her chest and her iPad balanced on her knees. She held a giant mug of tea between both hands, letting the steam warm her face. Normally she’d be dying from the heat this time of year, but all the extra heat seemed to bring her comfort in a way little else could these days.

  Well, little else except for the afghan she’d accidentally stolen from the Abrahamsons’ the night before. Smiling to herself, she hit refresh on her browser and saw a new article from Jesse pop into the feed.

  Attempted Assassination of Herald Springs’s Newest Resident, the headline read.

  Brooke nearly dropped the mug from her hands in shock. Had something happened to Annabeth last night?

  Before she could give it another thought, her phone buzzed with a text message, forcing her to tear her eyes away from the stock image photo of a car crashed into a tree.

  Auntie B, I’m heeeeeere! When can we get together?

  Ligia, her goddaughter, had just moved from her boarding school in New York to a residency dorm at the university, and Brooke had promised to look after her. As much as she loved her goddaughter, she was duly motivated by the desire to make Ligia’s mother Cinthia proud of her. After all, Cinthia was the mother Brooke wished she would have had. Back in high school, she’d sponsored Brooke when she’d done a study abroad—anything to get away from her mother and their humdrum life together.

  And Brooke had stayed close with Cinthia even after the year was up, especially since she lived the exact life Brooke aspired to, what with her high end fashion boutique and modeling career on the side. She’d even helped Brooke get started in the industry herself, back in the day.

  Ugh. She really needed to text Ligia back, but the sensational headline beckoned her. She needed to know what had happened and to whom...

  Okay, so maybe my headline is a little sensational.

  Brooke held back a laugh as she read over Jesse’s opening sentence. They always had seen things the same way.

  After all, what happened was an accident—at least that’s what everyone thinks so far—but, regardless, our newest neighbor was plowed into by a hit-and-run driver and is in the ICU at Brackenridge Hospital. Yes, I’m talking about Marcus King, the tall drink of water that moved into town less than two weeks ago with his wife Annabeth in tow.

  When asked to comment, his wife was, understandably, quite hysterical and perhaps a bit too drunk to say anything of meaning either. Still, who could blame her, right? I mean her husband is in a coma for chrissake!

  Vi Hernandez, who had spoken to Mrs. King earlier that night, said...

  Oh my gosh, she had just seen Marcus that same afternoon. He’d been strong, alert, and—yeah—pretty darn hot, and now he was at death’s doorstep? A sudden sadness clawed at her insides.

  Poor Annabeth!

  Not only was her husband laid up in intensive care, but having to drive back and forth to the Austin hospital every day would certainly take its toll. Nobody should have to commute an hour a day in crazy Austin traffic to look after a loved one.

  She chewed on her thumbnail, disturbing her manicure in the process. Herald Springs had recently built a state-of-the-art hospital that would be perfect for Marcus to convalesce in. It was only ten minutes away from the subdivision.

  A plan began to form in her mind.

  If it had been Brian...

  No, she refused to think it. Sure, Brian had his rough spots, but at the end of the day she loved him. If nothing else, Marcus’s accident definitely put that into perspective for her.

  The grandfather clock in the next room chimed, announcing that the morning was officially half through. Brooke had so much to do for the gala, but zero energy to do it. She’d allowed herself to sleep an extra three hours last night, hoping it would rid her of whatever virus had taken over her normally healthy body, but she felt even more tired today, if that was possible.

  I need to go take care of this Marcus business. It’s the least I can do.

  Even though she actively despised Annabeth and she didn’t really know Marcus from Adam, she wanted to help. His life sucked enough already, what with getting hit by a car and being hitched to Annabeth. Yuck.

  Then there was her whole belief that you should keep your friends close and your frenemies closer. How could she continue to dig up dirt on Annabeth if the chick was never around?

  Plus, it would be fun to make the staff at Brackenridge jump a little. It had been a while since she’d exerted her influence over the board. High time. Perhaps the whole thing could help rid her of her funk, get her back to work.

  She glanced down at Jesse’s photo in the sidebar of his blog, taking comfort from his familiar crooked smile and twinkling eyes. How had he even had time to break this story last night after taking care of first Brooke and then Heather? The man never ran out of steam, and she guessed that, between his girls and his thriving blog, he probably didn’t sleep anywhere near as much as she did—especially those eleven hours she’d taken last night.

  If only she could bottle his Jesse-ness and keep some for herself and spritz at will, she’d have been done with re-planning the gala before that fire had even broken out at the Gables.

  She sighed and shrugged into her jacket, then wrapped a pashmina around her neck for added warmth.

  “C’mon, Miss Tiara,” she called. “Marcus could use your furry little kisses to help him feel better. Yes, he could.” She scooped up the pom into her arms, and together they headed for the hospital.

  The administrative staff at Brackenridge Hospital were delighted to see their favorite therapy animal, scratching Tiara behind the ears, cooing, and offering the miniature
doggie biscuits they kept on hand for visits like this.

  “Can you keep her with you for a few minutes?” Brooke asked a forty-something woman in magenta scrubs. The ID card that hung from her shirt pocket read Rayne. “I have to go see a friend. I won’t be long though.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Fischer. It’s time we two get to know each other,” she answered in a baby voice and set Tiara on the floor of the small office area behind the glass admission windows.

  Once she was certain her fur baby would be fine, Brooke hurried down the hall toward the intensive care unit. It was strange not to hear the click-clacking of her heels as she walked, but then again Brooke just hadn’t felt up to heels that morning. Instead, she’d laced up her running shoes for the impromptu visit to the hospital. She kept an eye out for Annabeth’s shock of fiery red curls as she paced up and down the hallways, but her neighbor was nowhere to be found.

  Brooke stopped a woman with a bouncing ponytail before she could escape through the double doors and into another wing of the hospital.

  “Excuse me? Doctor?”

  “Nurse, actually.” She smiled, showing off all her teeth like an over carved jack-o-lantern. “How can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for my neighbor, Marcus King.”

  She bobbed her head. “Of course, of course, such a terrible thing to... Oh, you don’t need any of that doom and gloom from me, I’m sure you’re worried enough as it is.”

  “I don’t mean to be rude,” Brooke said, and for once it was actually true. “But I’m in a bit of a hurry. Where can I find him?”

  “You’re in luck. Mr. King stabilized last night and is now in room 305 just down the hall and to the left. Can’t miss it.”

  Brooke thanked the chatty nurse, then power walked in the direction she had pointed.

  Why am I in such a hurry?

  She didn’t have an answer for that question, but she knew it would all make sense once she’d had a chance to see Marcus.