* * *
Erin wasn’t at a table near a window, so he figured she didn't see him come in. That was good. He was afraid she might run away to avoid him.
He deliberately didn't look for her when he entered, and went straight to the counter to order a sweet tea. He pondered buying a couple of the giant, chocolate chunk brownies to share with her. But he didn't know her all that well. She could be allergic. Or hate chocolate. Or she might think it was creepy as hell that he'd offer her a giant brownie just a few hours after she'd seen somebody she loved dead on her own property.
Turning away from the counter, he scanned the room. Erin sat beneath a vintage poster with a French clown superimposed over a cityscape of Paris. She had a piece of quiche on a plate in front of her and was poking at it with her fork without much enthusiasm. She looked tired, but was still beautiful. Today her strawberry blonde hair was twisted into a thick braid that lay over one shoulder. What a shitty time she'd had lately. She'd never come right out and said she disliked Shelby Rae, but it wasn't hard to guess. For a fleeting moment he wondered if Erin had done something, hired someone to make Shelby Rae disappear. She probably had enough money, but not all rich fathers were generous. Erin was obviously irritated with Shelby Rae on Sunday, but to kidnap her then bring her back and drop her beside the road? The idea sounded stupid, even to him.
A woman brushed past him and he quickly apologized. How long had he been staring at Erin? Then, as though finally sensing him watching her, Erin looked up. He held his hand up in a wave that felt pretty lame. Why did he always feel clumsy, like his limbs were about as useful as giant sausages when he was around her?
She didn't smile, but she didn't look away quickly, either.
Putting the most positive spin on the situation he could, he walked over to her table. Small talk with women wasn't his greatest strength. His father talked to his mother like she was a moron. Or he screamed at her—particularly when he was drinking.
"How's the quiche?"
Erin glanced down at her plate and put her fork down. "I don't know why I ordered it. I'm not really hungry."
"Can I sit down?"
Erin shrugged. "I guess."
Noah pulled out the chair across from her and sat. She moved her knife an inch farther from the plate, slid her coffee cup an inch or so his way, marking her territory, putting up an invisible wall between them. It was clear she thought there needed to be some distance between them, and he suspected she didn't realize she was doing it.
"Are you angry with me about something?" Confrontation was something he hated, but he couldn't stop himself. The idea of there being a big disagreement or issue between them felt wrong, and he wanted to fix it.
"Do you think this is really the best time to talk about it?" She watched him evenly. Her eyes were tinged with red, and she looked like she hadn't slept much recently. "Somebody died. Maybe you didn't know her, but I did. You're not actually involved, right?"
Noah shook his head. "You know I'm not involved. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that cat made sure I saw her. I didn't do anything to anybody." He slid back the chair, feeling defensive. "I was just wondering if you were all right. That's the only reason I came over here."
"Really? The only reason?"
"Yeah, I guess so." He hated the animosity between them. Why wouldn't she just say what was going on? She couldn't possibly blame him for Julie Berry being dead. It made him sick to think that she might.
Erin picked up her paper cup of coffee and looked past him as she sipped. They were frozen in their unhappiness. Finally, she spoke.
"Why didn't you tell me the other day your father was out of prison?"
Noah stared at her. It hadn't occurred to him to tell anyone about his father getting out. While his being in prison, obliquely responsible for Rita Walsh's death, had become a dominating fact of his life, he tried to forget it as often as he could. It was tough because everything in his life seemed to happen because of it, or in spite of it. There was no space in his world for any other possibilities. He'd imagined he knew the way it affected Erin and her father, but what did he really know? If he couldn't bear the fact of his being out of prison, what must it be like for Erin? His father was his father, the jerk who went to prison, leaving him and his mother to fend for themselves. To Erin, his father was the murderer of her mother.
"Wow. I feel like an asshole. Of course I should've told you." He wanted to explain, but knew it would just sound like an excuse. "I don't know what to say."
"I just want to know why you hid it. Was it because you knew I'd be upset, and you wanted to hang out with me? Because that would be creepy. Or did it not matter to you at all?"
"Erin." He scooted his chair closer to the table. "Why would you think I'd do something like that on purpose?" He glanced around them. No one was close enough to hear what they were saying. "I asked my mom to come to your party so we could both get away from him. You think I wanted people to know and talk about it? It's bad enough everyone sees me and thinks of him."
Erin didn't speak, and at least wasn't interrupting, which was good.
"Everyone expects me to screw up or steal something. Or they expect me to be perfect so they can be extra sure I'm not like him. I know that's not an excuse. I didn't mean to upset you. I swear. I wasn't even thinking about him when I started talking to you, except to think it was cool that you were talking to me at all. You've got every right to tell me to get lost."
The tension in her face relaxed the slightest bit. "What about Bryn Owens? What were you doing with her, out in front of our house?"
"Bryn? I don't know. I saw her and said hello. It was kind of weird that she was there, but nobody told me she was stalking you all."
"Really? Weren't you friends with them or something?"
Noah felt a flare of warmth around his face. "Not exactly. They went to my mom's church. I haven't gone since I was a kid." He wasn't sure how much Erin believed him. But it was the truth, really. He hadn't actually been friends with them, and those few minutes with Tionna behind the bakery—well, that hadn't been friendship. More like momentary lust. Tionna's revenge on Bryn for their fight. Noah wondered if Tionna had ever told Bryn. Maybe they'd laughed about it later. But no, he was sure Bryn would have made it a point to give him hell if she knew.
They sat in silence. Noah sipped his tea. Erin stared out the window, thinking.
Finally, Noah put his hands on the table and leaned forward. "I'm not my dad, Erin. You know that, don't you?"
She nodded, slowly. "Yeah, I know." Then, "What about your dad? Do you think he had something against Julie? Or Shelby Rae?"
These were thoughts that Noah had had himself.
"He's an asshole, but I don't think he's stupid enough to kidnap anybody." He didn't mention how flush with cash his father was. There was something going on there, but he didn't think it had anything to do with the kidnapping. It would be too bizarre. "Or murder someone." He really hoped he was right about that.
"What if he wants to get back at my dad?"
"Doesn't it make more sense that he'd want to get back at Zach? I mean, he's the one who killed your mother."
Erin's eyes clouded.
Did I really say that? "Hey, I'm sorry. That was stupid.”
"It's okay. I didn't mean to imply your dad was a murderer. That was wrong of me."
"I know he's not a good guy. I hate that he got your mother killed." Impulsively he put a hand over one of Erin's. She didn't take it away. "I'm really, really sorry it happened. There's hardly a day that I don't think about that. Especially when I see you, Erin. And I want to see you more. I know that probably makes me sound crazy. But it's true."
* * *
“Don’t rush me, Bruce. Julie isn't going to get any deader."
I watch from behind an enormous potted ficus tree as Shelby Rae comes down the stairs, followed by an exhausted-looking Bruce. Jocko precedes them both, his tongue hanging out like the foolish creature that he is. I
t's my hope that he doesn't spy me out in his canine eagerness.
"That was beneath you, Shelby Rae. I know you never liked her but she only ever wanted to help. Especially Erin. You were there. You know what it was like for her."
When Shelby Rae reaches the bottom of the stairs she deftly swings around on a narrow high heel, surprising us all.
"No. Julie Berry wanted to be helpful to you, and you know it. I'm glad she's dead because now I won't have to worry about her trying to take you away from me. She's wanted you from day one after Rita died, and I bet even before that. You think I didn't know how she talked about me? Like I was white trash. She had the nerve to wear black to our wedding. Did she think I wouldn't notice?"
Poor Bruce. I wouldn't want to be in his uncomfortable position for the world.
Drat! The intrepid Jocko is trotting my way. Now that his mistress is back in residence, he thinks he's the four-legged king of the house. Too bad for him he's only a jester. When he sticks his nose into my hiding place, I give him a swat, and he backs away. He's lucky I didn't use my claws this time. He doesn't yelp, but walks sullenly back to Shelby Rae. I do believe I almost have the blighter in hand.
"It takes two people to have a relationship," Bruce says. "I've never been interested in Julie that way. We've been over this a hundred times. Why are you acting so jealous now? She's dead, for god's sake."
I follow them into the kitchen and settle to watch out a window. Listening to them is more interesting than stalking mice. With Shelby Rae there is always drama.
"Why did you go to see her yesterday?" Shelby Rae's voice is strangely low.
"What are you talking about?"
"Yesterday afternoon you were at her house. I saw your truck. You weren't being very sneaky if you were trying to hide it." Shelby Rae steps close to him, as though she were about to kiss him. But her tone is accusing.
Bruce doesn't back down. "Why do you think I went by there? You seem to think you know."
"I don't know, but I can guess. She was telling you some bullshit lie about me, wasn't she? I told you she hated me."
"How do you know that's what we talked about?" He doesn't seem surprised, which puzzles me. How does Shelby Rae know, indeed, unless she spoke to Julie Berry first? Or Julie Berry had threatened her? The plot thickens, and the game is, as they say, afoot.
"She told you I was having an affair, didn't she? God, she was such a snobby bitch. Believing whatever suited her. And that ugliness suited her to a ‘T’."
"If you know so much, then you also need to know I didn't believe her. You're my wife, and there's never been a day when I wasn't glad you agreed to marry me. It doesn't matter what she said. I won't even ask you if it's true."
At first Shelby Rae is indignant and tosses her hair like an angry filly in the paddock. "Oh, sure. You say that—"
Bruce, in the manner of a rough hero in a steamy novel, suddenly wraps his arms around her and pulls her to him. I'm inclined to avert my eyes, but both Jocko and I are strangely riveted on the scene. Shelby Rae doesn't resist, but pushes herself against him, caressing the back of his head as they kiss. One of Bruce's hands slides down her silky pink dress and shapes it around her generous bum. Now I do look away, embarrassed for them both. Jocko gives a little whimper and walks glumly to settle in a tight curl on his bed in the kitchen.
One must excuse humans their mating indignities. I turn my head decisively back to the window. During the next ten minutes, the sounds Shelby Rae is making seem to indicate that she is having a rather pleasant time. Alas, Jocko. I feel for the poor sod. Humans really should be more considerate of their creatures.
When they finally gather themselves, Shelby Rae is back to her giggling, coquettish self. She takes a languorous stretch, almost worthy of a feline, and sighs. "I wish you'd done that a week ago. I've missed you so much. I was afraid you didn't want me anymore." She pouts. This actress should be made a dame of the commonwealth just like Judi Dench.
"Baby, I get so wrapped up in work. I promise to do better."
"I'm going to hold you to it. We should maybe—I don't know—take a little trip together. Vegas? We had so much fun last time."
"Anywhere you want to go. And it was my pleasure.” Bruce Walsh raises his bushy eyebrows and gives his wife a look that embarrasses me all over again. Though they’re the ones who should be embarrassed. " We're going to be late meeting Abel, so we better leave."
Shelby Rae touches him on the shoulder. "Do you think it will take very long?"
Bruce kisses her tenderly on the cheek. "Not long."
"I won't mention I saw your truck at Julie's house. There's no need to complicate things. I'm sure they'll find the poor woman was the target of some stranger who came through town. The world just isn't safe these days, is it?"
Poor woman! Whom does she think she's fooling?
"I love you, sugarcakes." Bruce takes her in his arms once again for a lingering kiss.
Oh, bollocks! Am I going to be forced to stare out the window again? Fortunately, this time things don't go any further, and they leave the house for the police station. How I would like to be a fly on the wall during that meeting.
There's something wrong in the Walsh home. One or both of them is hiding something. Bruce is being secretive about his meeting with Julie Berry, and I know he told Erin that he not only went by there in the afternoon but later, as well. He didn't share the second visit with Shelby Rae. Why not?
How did Shelby Rae know what Julie Berry was up to? I wonder if she was being blackmailed.
Even more interesting, they're both lying to the sheriff. There's a lot going on here that adds up to something dangerous. I'm convinced that Bryn Owens has nothing to do with this. The mystery lies closer to home.
Chapter Eight
Now that he and Erin were at least somewhat back on track, Noah felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. There was a track, he was convinced. She thought his plan to ask Zach Wilkins some questions about Julie Berry was a good one. After their talk at The Village Bean, they parted ways until he would pick her up later that evening to go out to Zach's place. He couldn't wait to see her again.
At home, he showered quickly and dressed, choosing a funky black and white fitted western shirt he'd picked up on his last trip to Louisville and black jeans. It wasn't that he thought they were on a date, but he suddenly wanted to impress her. To be his best self. The guys at the dealership would give him six kinds of hell if they saw him.
Screw them.
"Well, don't you look dressed to kill, son?”
When Noah had gotten home the house had been empty. Now his father stood in the kitchen doorway, a six pack dangling from his hand. He twisted off a beer and held it out to Noah.
"No thanks. Gotta go." Noah gave him a conciliatory smile and started past him.
"Hey, wait a minute. You got a date or something? Your mom said you dumped that little Christian girl last winter. Must be the boss's daughter then. She's a tasty little thing. I like that you're thinking big. Imagine me father-in-law to the Walsh girl. Ha!"
Noah didn't like the idea of his father even thinking about Erin. He clenched his fists, then relaxed them. He couldn't let his father see he was getting to him.
"Why don't you have her out here to dinner some night? Your mama's such a fine cook, and I bet she'd be pleased to see you with a girl like that. She always did want better for you. Though nobody could do better than your mama. She was a peach when she was a girl. Not that you'd know it now. She's let herself go a bit."
Again Noah bit back his anger and breathed deeply. He wanted to punch his father until he understood that every bit of pain his mother had felt, every wrinkle on her face was due to him, Jeb Daly, a man who had married an unspoiled teenager then turned into a real criminal, a man who eventually quit legitimate work to let his wife support him.
"Yeah. I'll ask mom. Thanks. I'll see you later, Dad."
Noah finally got past him and opened the kitchen door to go
to his bike.
"Not tomorrow, though. I'm getting out of this place for a couple days. I need a break from the four walls. Feeling caged, you know?" He grinned at his own joke.
"Are you allowed to leave town? You got permission to go somewhere?" Noah wasn't sure about all the specifics of his father's parole, but he didn't think it included being allowed to hang out somewhere out of town with his dope-growing friends.
"Aren't you nice to worry about your old man?" He shook his head. "Everything's under control. Nothing to worry about at all. I don't check in until Friday afternoon." He put the six-pack down on the counter. "Hey, wait." Reaching into his front pocket, he pulled out a thick fold of bills. Peeling off a hundred, he held it out to Noah. "You take that girl out somewhere nice. On me."
"That's okay, Dad. I've got money." Where had that money come from?
"Oh, come on. I had luck playing cards the other night. I'm sure it was because your mama kissed them for me."
Noah's stomach turned. The thought of his mother charmed again by his father made him sick. But he took the bill his father held out. The last thing he needed was for his father to have reason to be pissed off at him. No way he was going to spend it, though. It might be counterfeit or contaminated with drugs. Who the hell knew with his old man.
"Thanks, Dad. Have a good trip."
* * *
The sun hung low in the sky behind Noah as he turned the bike down Erin's driveway. The garage door was open, and the bays were empty. Only Erin's Challenger sat in the driveway. He was somewhat relieved not to see Shelby Rae or Bruce Walsh again. It felt like a hundred years since he'd found Julie Berry's body, but it had only been early that same morning. There was no longer any sign of the police or crime scene techs. Was there still crime scene tape down near the dock where he'd found her? She'd looked so alone. Her body was surely at the morgue by now, but he could only picture her lying in the muddy water.
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