Past Due

by Jenna Bennett

  “You opened the door?”

  I nodded. “Sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have done that. There might have been fingerprints on the handle.” If there had been, they were gone now. Obliterated by mine.

  Way to go, Savannah.

  “You had no way of knowing,” Vasquez said comfortingly.

  “I guess... I thought maybe there was a chance he was still breathing.”

  “Was he?”

  I shook my head. “Not with injuries like those. Once I’d opened the door, I realized there was no way he was still alive.”

  “You didn’t check?”

  “I didn’t touch him, no. Just left the door open, turned around, and threw up. And then I called 911.”

  “I’m going to need some information from you, OK?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Your name is Savannah Martin?”

  I nodded.

  “And what are you doing here, Savannah?”

  “Attending my high school reunion,” I said.

  She glanced at the hotel. “Really?”

  “I’m afraid so. There are a couple hundred of us inside, who graduated from Columbia High together ten years ago.”

  “Was he one of you?” She nodded toward the car.

  I realized I had no idea. “I’m sorry. I didn’t look at his face.”

  It had been in shadow, and anyway, my attention had been fixated on the horror that was—or had been—the guy’s chest.

  “The car is registered to one Ethan Underwood,” Officer Vasquez said.

  The words just fell out of my mouth, I swear. “You’re kidding.”

  She tilted her head, birdlike. “Why?”

  I flushed. “Nothing. We just talked about him earlier.” One of the few classmates we’d mentioned by name.

  “What did you talk about?”

  “Nothing. I mean, nothing that could have caused this.”

  She just arched her brows, and I told her what had been said, and watched her take notes.

  She looked up at me. “So this Ethan was a womanizer in high school?”

  “That’s what the others said. I never had anything to do with him myself.”

  “What about now?”

  I had no idea what Ethan was like these days, and told her so. But it was certainly possible that he still had an eye for the ladies. Maybe he had brought someone into the parking lot for a quickie in the front seat, and gotten killed for his trouble?

  “Did you see him?” Vasquez asked. “Inside?”

  “Not to my knowledge. Or if I did, I didn’t recognize him.”

  “You don’t live around here?”

  I shook my head. “Not anymore.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Nashville.” I gave her the address, and watched as she wrote it down.

  “You’re just in town for the weekend?”

  “I’m just in Columbia for tonight. I’m staying with my mother in Sweetwater. I got here last night to have dinner with a friend, and I’m leaving... was planning to leave tomorrow morning.” After this, who knew when we’d be allowed to go home?

  “Anything else you can tell me?”

  I thought about mentioning Billy Scruggs, that this was my second dead body in less than twelve hours. If I didn’t, and she happened upon that information on her own, she might think it suspicious that I hadn’t mentioned it. Then again, there couldn’t possibly be any connection between Billy Scruggs and Ethan Underwood, so saying anything about Sheriff Satterfield’s case would only muddy the waters.

  I shook my head.

  “I’m afraid we’ll have to ask you to stick around a bit longer. I’ll go inside with you, and explain what’s going on, and when we’ve got some backup, we’ll be able to process you all out and let you go home.”

  “That’s fine.” Or not fine, exactly, but it was becoming clear that I wouldn’t make it home to Rafe tonight. Good thing I hadn’t called and told him to expect me.

  She got to her feet, a lot easier than me. “Do you need help?”

  “I can manage.”

  I did. In my heels, I was half a foot taller than Officer Vasquez. In her regulation boots, she only came up to my nose. When we walked toward the hotel, I could look sideways at the top of her head.

  The next hour was a blur. The news that Ethan had been brutally murdered in the parking lot killed the reunion celebration dead. The DJ stopped playing and started packing up. Everyone stopped dancing. And just when we could have used some Dutch courage, the liquor was cut off, too. So we ended up just sitting around, staring blankly at one another. Officer Vasquez stood guard in front of the double doors, to make sure no one tried to leave. We were told not to talk. Every once in a while, someone would start a whispered conversation, and Vasquez would shift her weight and scowl in that direction. Her shoes squeaked. I hadn’t noticed that outside.

  Everyone appeared shocked, of course. Charlotte looked nauseous, and so did Jan, although that could have been from eating too much at dinner. Darlene and Rhonda held hands under the table. Darlene was pale, and every once in a while, Rhonda would lean over and murmur something in her ear.

  Mary Kelly sat perfectly straight on her chair, with her hands folded in her lap and her face composed. Mother would have approved.

  Mother wouldn’t have approved of Tina, who fidgeted. She kept darting fearful glances around, as if worried that whoever had stabbed Ethan would materialize in the middle of the ballroom and come after her next.

  And Epiphany twisted her diamond necklace until I was afraid she’d break the delicate chain in two.

  As for me, I did my best not to look at any of them for too long, since I didn’t want to give anyone the idea that they could ask me questions. Not just because Vasquez had told us not to talk, but because I didn’t want to describe the sight of Ethan drenched in his own blood.

  After about twenty minutes, the door to the hallway opened, and a plain-clothes detective came through, followed by a handful of police officers in dark blue or tan. I recognized Cletus Johnson’s face among them. The Columbia PD must have requested assistance from the Maury County sheriff’s department to help process the crowd.

  And process they did. They went from table to table and took down everyone’s name and contact information, and asked whether we’d seen or had any interaction with Ethan Underwood tonight. Those who had were sent to talk to the detective in charge, while everyone else was left to whisper and speculate while the cop moved on to the next table.

  It took a long time. They hadn’t even processed half the room by the time the door opened again, and a man stepped through. Tall, dark, in a T-shirt and worn jeans...

  My heart lurched. Or maybe it was my stomach. When I see Rafe unexpectedly, even after all these months together, he still has the power to make my stomach do a flip.

  And seeing him now, when I really wanted him, but had resigned myself to the fact that I couldn’t have him... let’s just say that although I knew he was courting trouble from Sheriff Satterfield by coming to Sweetwater, the fact that he was here, that he’d come when I needed him, really made me happy.

  I pushed the chair back and got to my feet. And although I started out walking, demurely as befits a lady, by the time I reached the door, I was flat out running, straight into his arms.

  He took a step back from the impact, but his arms went around me and he buried his nose in my hair. For my own part, I clung to him. I knew it had only been a matter of a day, but with the things that had been going on, I’d felt like I’d never get to see him again.

  Even so, I managed to tell his shoulder, “You shouldn’t be here.”

  His voice was muffled against my hair. “Yeah, I should.”

  After a moment, he added, “Everyone’s staring at us.”

  “Probably wishing they were me.” But I lifted my head from his shoulder and dropped my arms from around his waist. Reluctantly, but I did it.

  “You OK, darlin’?” He kept his hand on my back. Th
e weight and warmth felt good.

  “Better now. How did you know...?”

  “Your brother called me,” Rafe said.

  Thank you, Dix. “He shouldn’t have done that.”

  “No,” Rafe agreed. When I looked up, surprised, he added, “You shoulda done it yourself.”

  “I didn’t want you to get in trouble with the sheriff.”

  “I ain’t seen Billy Scruggs since I put him in the hospital thirteen years ago,” Rafe said. “And if I was gonna shoot him, I wouldn’t do it in my mama’s bedroom. I’d do it where they wouldn’t ever find the body.”

  I glanced at him, and then decided not to ask where that might be, since I had a feeling he might actually know.

  By now, Officer Vasquez had noticed him, and was sidling our way. She looked a bit apprehensive. I couldn’t blame her. Rafe had her beat by about a foot in height, and probably close to eighty pounds of muscle. He doesn’t look easy to shift. He also doesn’t look like he takes kindly to being told what to do. In other words, he looks just about as dangerous as he is. And the whispering that had started spreading across the room probably didn’t help matters, either. My former classmates were behaving as if Lucifer himself had materialized in the ballroom, forked tail, horns and all.

  It figured. I’d wanted to reintroduce him to my friends and classmates looking polished and stunning in a tuxedo, to show them how wrong they’d been about him all along. And instead, he’d shown up in the middle of a murder investigation, in a faded T-shirt and jeans, and with a gun on his hip.

  Vasquez cleared her throat, her gaze flickering between that gun and his face. “Sir...”

  Rafe pinned her with a look, and she swallowed. “Um... is that loaded?”

  I swear the finger that indicated the gun was shaking.

  He arched a brow. “Wouldn’t do me much good if it wasn’t, now would it, sugar?”

  She stiffened visibly when he reached for his back pocket, but to her credit, she didn’t draw her own weapon.

  “Rafe Collier, TBI.” He flipped open his wallet and showed her his ID and badge. I craned my neck, too, feeling a weird little flutter in my stomach.

  It wasn’t the baby. This was the first time I’d heard him introduce himself as a TBI agent, and it made me feel... proud, I guess. For years, he hadn’t been able to claim that association. Being identified as a TBI informer while undercover could have gotten him killed—and almost had.

  But now all that was behind him. He was legitimate. He could tell the world who he was. He didn’t have to hide anymore, and neither did I.

  I smiled and leaned into him, and felt his arm tighten around my waist.

  Vasquez looked somewhere between dismayed and disappointed. “No one told me the TBI had been called in.”

  “We haven’t.” Rafe’s voice was calm, rumbling through his chest into my ear. “I’m here on personal business.” A fact that should be obvious, since he was standing with his arm around me.

  “This is my fiancé,” I told Vasquez.

  Hey, it was almost true. I was wearing his ring. Beautiful, with a blue stone, that he’d given me for Christmas.

  And all right, so it wasn’t an engagement ring, because he hadn’t actually proposed when he gave it to me. He’d thought I needed more than a day before he floated that question.

  I’d have said yes, of course, but as it happened, he hadn’t asked again. But it was still my engagement ring. Or it would be, once he got around to popping the question. Which I figured would be any day, now that I was pregnant.

  “I suppose it would be OK if you stuck around,” Vasquez told Rafe, grudgingly. “As long as you don’t get in the way.”

  “Much obliged, sugar.”

  He smiled at her, and I’m sure the fact that she blushed gave him no little amount of satisfaction. I shook my head at him as we walked away. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

  He grinned. “Sure I can. But why bother?”

  No reason I could think of. “It was nice of her to let you stay,” I said.

  “Professional courtesy,” Rafe answered. “That’s why I brought out the ID. Not like I’d do that otherwise.”

  “You still don’t like the world knowing you’re on the side of the angels, do you?”

  “Something like that. Or just living down to expectations.”

  Right. “I like it.”

  “Me being on the side of the angels?”

  “That. And when you introduce yourself as Agent Collier from the TBI. It’s sexy.”

  His lips curved. “Maybe I’ll make you call me Agent Collier when we’re in bed tonight.”

  That’d be nice. Nicer that we’d actually be in bed together.

  I leaned a little closer to him, and rubbed my cheek against his shoulder. “Thank you for coming. You shouldn’t have, but I’m glad you’re here.”

  “What,” Rafe said, looking down at me, “was I gonna stay home and let you deal with this on your own?”

  “I know you don’t like to come back here. And it’s not like they can hold me. I have an alibi for Billy Scruggs’s death, and I’ve been inside here all night. Until I went out and found the body. I had no time to kill Ethan. Or any reason, either. I hardly knew him ten years ago, and I don’t think I’ve seen him since.”

  “Ethan Underwood? He’s the victim?”

  I nodded. “Do you remember him?”

  “Happens I do.” He must have noticed my reaction, because he added, “I didn’t have no reason to wanna carve up the man either, darlin’. It was a long time ago. But I remember him.”

  “I don’t suppose you’ve seen him in the past twelve years?”

  His lips quirked. “Don’t suppose I have.”

  Good. Having the sheriff giving him the beady eye in Billy Scruggs’s death was bad enough. Add in Ethan, and it was more than I wanted to deal with.

  The walk across the floor back to the table felt like it took a year, with every eye in the room following us.

  I’m sure they didn’t, that I was just imagining it. I had to be, after all. It wasn’t like everyone I went to high school with cared who I was dating ten years later. I’m sure a lot of them had no idea who I was, even. Or who he was, for that matter. And I’m equally sure a lot of the women were staring just because Rafe is gorgeous.

  But enough people were whispering to make me straighten my spine and raise my chin—and nose—a fraction of an inch higher.

  Next to me, Rafe murmured something.

  “What?” I glanced up at him.

  He shook his head. “Nothing. You ready for this?”

  “Will you still love me if my friends snub you?”

  He looked down at me. “I love you even though your mama snubs me, don’t I?”

  He did. And they weren’t really my friends, anyway. After this weekend, we didn’t have to see any of them again for the rest of our lives.

  “Ready,” I said.

  Chapter Eight

  There were two empty chairs at the table. While I’d been away, Mary Kelly had disappeared.

  “She’s talking to the detective,” Charlotte said, meeting my eyes for just a second before looking away. “She danced with Ethan earlier.”

  Then it made sense that the police would want to talk to her. And at least it wasn’t personal. She hadn’t run off when she saw us coming.

  “You all remember Rafe, I’m sure.” My voice was cool and clear, and carried more than a hint of my mother’s unspoken reminder to behave properly in public. They’d be polite, or they’d hear about it later.

  I looked around the table. Epiphany smiled at Rafe. They may have known each other. Or maybe not. Maybe she just responded to the fact that he was there, and good-looking. And Darlene grinned, too. Probably not because he was good-looking. She should be immune to that. So maybe she was happy he’d come along to take the attention off her and Rhonda.

  But no, Ethan’s murder had likely already done that.

  Jan just stared, unblink
ing, but Tina managed an uncomfortable smile, after glancing at Mary Kelly’s empty chair. And Charlotte...

  Charlotte still wouldn’t look at me.

  Maybe she’d thought I was joking when I told her I was living with Rafe. I had told her. It couldn’t be that much of a shock, seeing us together. Could it?

  “Nice to see you,” Rafe said into the silence, as if everything was normal and everyone was behaving well. “Darlin’?” He held a chair for me, the one next to Charlotte.

  That would be good. I could keep my back to her for a while.

  “Thank you.” I let him seat me, and watched as Tina scooted over onto Mary Kelly’s chair so Rafe could have hers. He thanked her with a smile that probably melted her panties right on the spot. She looked a little glassy-eyed afterwards.

  “So, Rafe,” Darlene asked from the other side of the table, “what do you do these days? I saw you flashing a badge at the cute girl cop.”

  Somehow, I didn’t think Officer Vasquez would appreciate being called a ‘cute girl cop,’ even by another woman. Maybe especially by another woman. Rhonda might not appreciate it, either. However...

  “TBI.” Rafe pulled his wallet back out of his pocket and tossed it on the table. “Tennessee Bureau of Investigations.”

  Darlene whistled, opening it to gawk at the badge. “Impressive. How long have you been doing that?”

  “Eleven years,” Rafe said.

  “Since he got out of prison,” I added, and watched the corner of his mouth quirk as he slanted me a look.

  “I wasn’t gonna mention that, darlin’.”

  I smiled back. “Now you don’t have to. I did it for you.” They all knew, anyway. It isn’t the kind of thing you forget.

  Rhonda looked from one to the other of us. “How long have you two been together?”

  “Officially since Christmas,” I said.

  “But she’s been crazy about me a lot longer than that,” Rafe added, with a wink at me.

  No arguing with that.