Walker Texas Wife (The Book Cellar Mysteries 1)

by Melissa Storm

  “Can I take a raincheck on this discussion?” She stood and straightened her dress. “Brooke is already going to be mad at me for being so late.”

  He flashed her a sad smile as he raised the top of the bed so he was in a sitting position. “Speaking of Brooke, the nurses told me that she’s the one who got me moved to this hospital. Is that true?”

  Annabeth checked her reflection in the paper towel dispenser. Her makeup and hair had somehow managed to hold up just fine.

  “They said she even visited with me when I was in the coma. Weird, huh?” He smiled as if the revelation were no big deal, as if Anna’s head weren’t spinning.

  She gave Marcus a quick peck on the lips, choosing not to acknowledge any of his Brooke talk.

  He tried to grab hold of her but she managed to wiggle out of his arms.

  “I have to go, but I promise I will come back tomorrow and we can talk.”

  Marcus gave her a sleepy grin. “Okay, but I’m holding you to it.”

  Annabeth placed her hand on her heart, then blew him a quick kiss. She flew down the halls feeling like Cinderella before the ball. They had a suspect, a real lead, and she and Marcus were back on track. But, also like Cinderella, the clock was ticking. She needed to find out what happened to Amy and how she could use Anjali’s information to stop the ring before the clock struck, and it was game over.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Vi

  Vi knelt down on her bathroom rug and began to rummage through her cupboard in search of her rarely used makeup bag.

  One of these days I’ll clean this mess out! When I have time… That’s never gonna happen. Like the world is just gonna stop because I need to do a simple thing like clean out the clutter under my sink.

  She’d gotten the Clinique bag back in high school when she’d still had the time and inclination to put effort into her looks. She took out her ancient eyeliner and repaired the damage her tears had made. She didn’t want to incur the wrath of Brooke over some smudged eye makeup.

  Waterproof, yeah right…

  So not worth the trouble.

  Her new cut and color reflected back at her. She didn’t know the person in the mirror. All she knew was that the woman underneath all of the glitz was dying inside.

  Vi bit her lip to stop herself from crying again. She’d been a social worker long enough to recognize the signs of secondary trauma. Anjali’s story had deeply disturbed her. Vi enjoyed her bubble world where things like that just didn’t happen—especially to someone she knew. But, sadly, she didn’t have time to process all she and Annabeth had just learned.

  The dress was already laid out and ready for her. Brooke had insisted she buy the thing two years ago at Nordstrom’s Off the Rack. Her robin's egg blue pashmina—a gift from Brooke—would add a little bit of color and keep her warm if the air conditioning got cranked up too high. For the finishing touch she put on her floating pearl necklace with matching earrings—a gift from Ricky during their dating years.

  Looking at herself in the full length mirror that hung from her bedroom door, she let out a long sigh. She looked stunning, but that just didn’t matter. Not with Ricky being long gone from her life…

  She fiddled with the pearl as the memory of their last kiss still lingered on her lips. The thought alone made her pulse quicken as if somehow she could relive that special memory. Come Sunday, he’d pack up with the rest of the rodeo and head to the next town. For a moment, she let herself imagine she might go with him, thus leaving all of her commitments behind. How freeing life on the road with her lover would be! How wonderful!

  Ricky had always gone with her to the annual gala. Every year he would stay at her side the entire night, helping her manage her anxieties. Tonight she would be on her own and the thought terrified her.

  I’d better get used to it since I am going to be alone for the rest of my life.

  The rest of her life… It had been so long since they’d made love, but she remembered the feel of his chest pressed against hers with aching clarity. The need to be touched—a loving touch that asked for nothing—threatened to devour her.

  Like it always did, the fantasy quickly gave way to a crushing guilt. She had responsibilities—people counted on her. She couldn’t just up and leave.

  Thankfully, the doorbell interrupted her inner critic’s harangue. She stumbled downstairs, practically tripping over her heels in the process.

  A flower delivery man stood on her porch balancing a huge arrangement of purple roses. “Are you Violeta Hernandez?”

  Vi nodded, not trusting her voice.

  The man handed her the flowers. “These are for you. Have a nice evening, ma’am.”

  Vi smiled, a little stunned. “Thank you. You, too.”

  She closed the door and leaned against the wall of her foyer, taking in the intoxicating perfume of the unexpected gift. A gift that, apparently, also came with a card:

  Violeta, my sweet.

  Promise me you’ll think about it.

  ♡

  Ricky

  Vi’s chest tightened as she choked back a sob. Her fingers brushed the soft petals as she wished again that Ricky could be there with her. The flowers would have to be enough.

  Her phone rang with the familiar chords to Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. She placed the bouquet down on the table and raced to get it before it could switch over to voicemail.

  “What’s wrong, Joy?”

  “I'm sick. Come get me.”

  Vi sighed. Of course she was sick and wanted to be picked up. Her high maintenance sister seemed to have a radar that went off whenever Vi was the busiest and most overwhelmed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I have to work.”

  “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” Joy screamed her favorite verbal tick into the phone.

  Well, I guess the speech therapy is working...

  Vi had reached the end of her rope. She didn’t have the patience to put up with this for a second longer. Didn’t Joy realize that sometimes things happened to Vi that didn’t revolve around her every whim? That sometimes there were even bigger problems to be dealt with? No...the reality was she didn’t, but this realization didn’t make dealing with her any easier.

  Vi huffed and clicked the big red “end call” button.

  But Joy called right back. Again. And again. And again.

  And Vi’ rage grew with each new ring. Finally, so angry she could’ve spit, she put her phone on silent.

  She gathered everything she would need for the night including a flask full of whiskey. She had a feeling she might need a little help to get through the evening.

  Oh no, the flowers!

  She grabbed a vase from the cupboard in the kitchen and filled it with water, her hands trembling as she tightened the spigot.

  Too much, too much, too much.

  A knock at the door startled her. Jesse. When she had mentioned that she would be going alone, he had kindly offered to be her escort. And his good-natured, easy-going attitude was exactly what she needed to get through this whole ordeal. Now here he was, decked out in a designer tux.

  “Well, Mr. Abrahamson, don’t you look dapper this evening.”

  “And you, Ms. Hernandez, are a vision,” he said with a mock bow before offering her his arm. “Your chariot awaits, m’lady.”

  She giggled despite herself. Maybe the evening would make up for the crappy day, or rather week, she’d been having.

  “What’s up, Vi?” Ligia popped forward from the back seat and squeezed Vi’s shoulder in greeting.

  Of course, Brooke would be too busy to actually take her own goddaughter to the event. She really had no idea how easy she had it. She had everything Vi yearned for, and then some. Everyone always catered to Brooke and her needs. No one seemed to notice how Vi was barely treading water these days.

  She could drop dead and no one would blink an eye.

  Chapter Thirty

  Brooke

  As soon as Jesse swung by to pick up Ligia, Brooke rush
ed to the bathroom to take another in a seemingly endless string of at-home pregnancy tests. Every other time she’d wanted the test to turn up positive, but this time she wasn’t so sure.

  Brian had always been under a fair deal of pressure at work, but these past couple of weeks he’d gone from merely a crab to outright hostile, and earlier that night… She shuddered remembering how afraid she’d been of her own husband. What would have happened had Ligia not arrived when she did?

  And what would she have done? Would she have allowed Brian to take her in whatever way he wanted even though she’d said no? Would she have cowered as he hit her rather than fighting back?

  Vi always yammered on about how much she admired Brooke’s strength, but she was so, so wrong. Brooke wasn’t strong. No. She was the worst kind of coward, and a fraud, and…

  And pregnant.

  She let the positive test fall onto the marble floor. The sound of its contact both soft and deafening. A baby? It hadn’t been much more than a week since she’d taken the last one, and it had said she was not pregnant. Maybe this was a fluke. She decided to take a third test, let it be the tiebreaker, let it decide her fate.

  And it declared that she… and Brian… were going to have a baby.

  Instead of a rush of excitement, she felt anger overtake her from the inside out. Blood surged through her veins as her pulse quickened. Why now? Why?

  Vi would say everything happened for a reason, that God had a plan. Well, it seemed God’s plan for Brooke was to mess her life up as much as possible. Great, just perfect—and on one of the biggest nights of her career, too.

  The gala, jeez.

  She just had to focus on making it through tonight. The rest she could figure out later. She sucked in a deep breath and held it in her diaphragm. Normally, she’d place a hand on her belly to feel the air enter and leave her body in order to calm her nerves, to ground her. But she couldn’t do that tonight. That would make all of this feel far too real.

  Sometimes fake was for the best. She composed a smile and headed toward the big event.

  She made it to the gala early, though not as early as she would’ve liked. Kim spotted her right away and ran through a list of inane questions, to all of which Brooke answered “yes, absolutely” with the fakest smile she could muster.

  “Should we get started then?” Kim asked once they had been over everything, taking a half hour of Brooke’s life she’d never get back.

  “We still have twenty minutes to go. Let me run my checks before everyone gets here at eight.” Brooke hurried away from Kim and went to hide in the bathroom.

  Vi was there, washing her hands.

  Brooke breathed a deep sigh of relief. “Vi, thank God! You’ll never—”

  “Brooke, I’m sorry, I can’t talk right now. See you after your big speech, okay?” She smiled and it appeared genuine, but Brooke couldn’t help feeling betrayed. Her best friend was supposed to be there for her, no matter how inconvenient the timing—and especially when a number of personal crises converged to make for one far-from-perfect evening.

  The door slammed behind Vi as she hurried away, waddling awkwardly in her unpracticed heels. Brooke wanted so badly to cry—about the stress of all last week, about the baby, about the way Brian—

  Shoot! Brian was supposed to play MC for the night, yet he’d stormed off to the firm after his and Brooke’s squabble. And Kimberly would ruin the party before it started if Brooke were stupid enough to let her go up.

  Jesse. Jesse would save the day. She took another several minutes to calm herself before returning to the party. It didn’t take long to find Jesse at the punch bowl, chatting with Mitsy Grazier about God knows what. She didn’t have time to feel jealous about the attention he was lavishing upon her nemesis, and, besides, he excused himself from that side conversation the moment he spotted Brooke approaching.

  “Let me guess, Brian bailed?” He took a sip of his punch, a little bit of red residue remaining on his upper lip until he sucked it away and smiled.

  The expression on her face must have said all he needed to know.

  Jesse tossed his cup in the nearby trash and rubbed his hands together. “He doesn’t deserve you, B. But don’t, worry, I’ve got this.”

  “Thank you so much!” she cried and wrapped him in a hug, enjoying the scent of berries that clung to his breath. If she could just stay wrapped in Jesse’s arms forever, she wouldn’t have to face her problems. She was safe as long as he was there to hold her, to take care of her.

  But forever wasn’t an option, not when they had a show to put on. And Kimberly was right there tapping at her wrist and then pointing to the stage as if Brooke could forget that it was go time.

  She shot the director a thumbs-up—although she’d much have preferred a bullet—as Jesse strode toward the makeshift stage, ascended its steps, and switched on the mic.

  “Welcome, welcome, all you rad dudes and dudettes!” He pumped his fist in the air, and the audience cheered. Everyone loved Jesse. What wasn’t to love?

  “We’re here tonight to get our party on—Whoo!—but we’re also here for a good cause. A great one. So I ask that you all be generous with your pocketbooks, and…”

  Brooke let her mind wander as Jesse continued to wow the crowd with his touching and totally on-theme speech. He’d obviously had a speech prepared, knowing Brian would let her down. Did he know about their other problems too, or did he at least suspect? Did everyone?

  Ligia came up and hugged her from behind, placing a quick kiss on her godmother’s cheek. “Hi, Auntie B! Thanks for inviting me, I’m having the best time!” she chirped as the DJ did a quick sound check then fired up a song by the Bangles.

  “Who knew the eighties were so cool! This is like my favorite oldies jam.”

  Brooke turned and watched Ligia dart off toward the dance floor then join up with a good-looking Hispanic guy, who couldn’t have been much older than her. She thought maybe she recognized him from somewhere, but couldn’t recall where. Anyway, the two looked like they were having a blast. She could at least take solace in that.

  A dark presence loomed to her left, and she turned to see Vi approaching in her midnight dress with her newly styled hair. “Sorry about before,” her ex-best friend said. “I just needed some time to…”

  “Shove it up your rear,” Brooke hissed. “I’m not interested in your excuses, okay?”

  For really, what excuse would make it okay for her to suddenly be besties with a woman they suspected for pornography, pedophilia, and possibly murder? Then to abandon Ligia on top of it? Oh, heck no.

  “But, Brooke, we’re best friends.” Vi whispered then bit her lower lip to keep from crying.

  “If that were true, you’d have known how much I needed you to be on point tonight. Not caught up in your own drama or—”

  A waiter passed by with a tray of those stupid clam shooters Kim had insisted upon and waved it in front of Brooke’s nose to offer a taste.

  The mix of liquor, tomato, and smelly seafood was too much for Brooke to bear. She had to book to the bathroom before her guts came spewing out.

  Of course, Vi followed after her like some lost puppy, unwilling to accept the fact that Brooke wanted nothing to do with her. But Vi had made her choice when she’d decided to laugh and gossip with Annabeth over nothing then blown Brooke off on top of it. Brooke had actual real problems, and Vi hadn’t been there for her.

  Stupid Annabeth King. All of this was her fault, everything. Even Brian’s strange behavior, the baby… Her stomach churned at that particular recollection, and she threw up whatever hadn’t made it out of her stomach the first time.

  “What do you want?” Brooke groaned, swiping at her face with her forearm, only too late realizing that it was the same arm she’d covered with foundation in order to hide her bruises.

  And Vi didn’t miss a beat. “Brooke! Oh my gosh, what happened?”

  “I threw up.” She flushed the toilet with the toe of her shoe and went to w
ash her hands, hoping she would just drop it.

  “Did you get hurt? Did Brian do this to—?”

  “I told you to leave me alone!” Brooke thundered. “Ugh, just drop it, okay? Maybe if you weren’t so obsessed with me, you’d realize what a joke you are, that your whole ridiculous life revolves around being a martyr. Well, nobody asked you to do that. So grow up and move on.”

  Tears welled in Vi’s dark eyes.

  Brooke hadn’t wanted to hurt her, but she couldn’t have Vi prying with all her counselory questions forcing the truth out of Brooke before she was ready to tell it.

  Luckily, Kimberly burst through the door before either woman had a chance to say anything more.

  “Yoo-hoo, Brooke!”

  If she noticed the vomit clinging to Brooke’s lips or the bruises visible along her jaw, she certainly didn’t let on. “Your registration workers never showed up, and I can’t man that table forever. Do you have someone who—?”

  “I’ll do it,” Vi said, keeping her eyes fixed on Brooke. “At least someone appreciates my help.”

  As soon as the others had left, Brooke tore her compact from her clutch and set to reapplying her makeup to cover the bruises. If she covered them for long enough, maybe they’d finally stop hurting.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Annabeth

  Annabeth pulled up to the bustling café. The venue was already getting crowded despite the fact that it wasn’t supposed to start for another fifteen minutes. The valets were hard at work parking the cars in whatever free spaces they could find. Annabeth tossed them her keys and made her way inside. She was a little late according to Brooke’s timeline, but whatever. Some things were just more important.