Tally, who, with the size of her boobs was by far the strongest of the three of us, jammed the sterling silver (I know this because my mama paid a pretty penny for it when Cash had graduated from high school) in between the top and bottom pieces of the safe. She jiggled it and tried to wedge it further.
“It’s not going to work,” Fae Lynn finally said, after we’d watched her for a few moments with dry mouthed apprehension.
“Damn.” Tally sighed and got up from the floor. She took two steps across the room, reaching into her purse and tossing it aside as she pulled out a gun.
“What is that?!” I hissed at her.
“Is that a Taurus .22?” Fae Lynn asked, jealousy creeping into her voice. Tally showed it off triumphantly.
“Yep. With a pink pearl handle. Cute, huh?”
“Heck yes. I need to ask for one of those for Christmas.”
Tally nodded. “Poppa Joe got me this when I moved to New York City. That, and a concealed-carry class.”
“Guys!” I hissed again. “What exactly are you planning to do with that gun?” Tally looked at me with disappointment.
“Sister.” She closed her eyes, turned her head and pointed the gun at the safe.
There was no sound in the office except for the ping as the entire locking piece blew off the mini-safe. Tally opened one eye and glanced cautiously at the safe.
“Did I get it?”
“Hell yeah, you did.” Fae Lynn answered affirmatively, kneeling down to open the now destroyed safe. I looked at her quizzically.
“How’d you manage to do that with no sound?”
“I had Poppa Joe put a silencer on it before I left. I hate the sound of gunfire. It reminds me of killing baby deer.” She twisted her infamous butt over to her purse and dropped the gun back in, clicking on the safety smoothly as it fell.
“Nothing.” Fae said in a tone more disappointed than I thought was appropriate. I frowned at the top of her head.
“Really?” Tally said.
“You just wanted to shoot something,” I called her out.
“Yeah,” she smiled. I rolled my eyes.
“Now what?” I asked Fae.
“Back to the files. Let’s at least finish so we know we’ve done due diligence.” We went back to searching the dusty files. I wasn’t all that surprised Brooks Regional wasn’t on a total electronic system yet. Their lack of technology made this search possible. And slow.
“I think I found the transplant files,” Tally broke the silence. Fae and I made our way over.
“This all looks legal,” I said.
“Would you know otherwise?” Fae Lynn asked.
“No,” I admitted. “Is Mark on there?” I took a closer look.
“Yes,” Fae Lynn said, finding him before me. “Boxes checked for all organs to be donated.”
“Which is the opposite of what Kelli said was reality.”
“Damnit, Cash,” I heard Fae Lynn curse.
“What?” I asked, crowding her and looking over her shoulder.
“It’s a list,” she mused, “of body parts. Shit.” She began sifting through the other papers. “These are all donee and donor records and price lists for…” She looked up and our eyes met, both drawing the same conclusion. Tally was silent for a moment; then spoke.
“Why would they be in here with everything out in the open for God and everyone to find?”
“Plain sight is always the best way to hide something,” Fae said, shaking her head.
“Fine,” I said, “But we haven’t found a murder weapon. And Cash’s office is open during normal business hours. Anyone could have put that there. These files aren’t his, they’re the hospital’s.”
“Girlfriend. Please look down at those boots and stop defending him.”
“Whatever,” I said. “Are we taking that or leaving it?” Fae Lynn raised her eyebrows.
“Leaving. Scotty almost killed me the last time I tampered with evidence.”
“Well, we need to make sure they find it,” Tally said, slipping it under a paperweight on Cash’s desk. “Is that tampering?”
“Pretty much,” I told her.
“I’ll take my chances,” she said. We gathered our stuff. One step closer to implicating Cash in something. Steps further from proving his innocence.
“Let’s go out back,” Fae suggested. We agreed, and followed her through the bowels of the hospital to find a back entrance. We burst out into the sultry night air, heavy with humidity, moisture dripping from the green foliage that clung to the fringes of the hospital.
Then, like one of my daddy’s expensive hunting dogs, my head went left, and I spotted Spencer Locke. His back was to us, and he was quite a distance away, but I’d recognize those shoulders any day. No one had shoulders like those in Brooks. And considering I’d just been clinging to them a few hours earlier, I should know. He had on jeans, loafers and a lightweight jacket he didn’t need. His hand rested on the raised trunk hatch of a dark sports sedan, his posture irritated. And then apparently his phone buzzed. He reached into his back pocket, and his answer barked out across the back lot.
After a short exchange, he shoved the phone back in, slammed the trunk down, and opened the driver’s door. He went to get in and reached to adjust his jacket as moonlight glinted off what was under his jacket. A very not pink, not pearl-handled, intimidating gunmetal pistol was jammed into his back waistband.
We stood in somewhat stunned silence. Which was a stretch for us. I wanted to stalk across the parking lot and ask him what the hell he was doing, and could we give that kiss one more try? A try where I had my game face on and wasn’t in the middle of a meltdown. Considering the time, the gun, and the crackling agitation he’d displayed, it seemed like a bad idea. So I stayed huddled with my sister and Fae.
“What the hell?” Tally said, once he’d driven off, curious.
“What do you think he’s doing here? In the back lot, at this time of night?” I asked Fae Lynn, who usually knew everything.
“Don’t know. Probably not sure we want to. Damn Yankee gets more Southern by the minute.”
“You think he’s tied to Cash?”
“I’ve never seen them together. Scotty’s never mentioned anything like that. He and Spencer have been very friendly since he came to town. Spencer’s pretty much the opposite of Cash.”
I sighed. Two hot kisses in the past two weeks. Both with men who were appearing more criminal by the minute. Next on my Christmas list was God giving me a little more discernment.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Three hundred thousand dollars!” I gaped at Jenna Launghall, a barrel racer several years older than me. She was now spending time behind a clerk’s desk at the county jail instead of riding around the arena in sequins. She was now telling me it was going to cost almost half a million dollars to get Cash out of jail. Jenna smiled.
“You think he’s got enough in there?” she leaned nosily over the desk. I had checked the balance at home after pilfering from his office. It was the one thing in the locked safe of interest. In fact, he did have that much, and then some, which was mighty suspicious considering I knew he’d burned through his trust fund in undergrad and hadn’t been a doctor long enough to replenish its current state.
“Well I guess if it bounces, they can arrest him again,” I retorted sarcastically, flipping open Cash’s checkbook and writing out the check. I ripped it out with a flourish and handed it to her. She took it gingerly and regarded it skeptically.
“Um, can you sign Cash’s checks for him?” she asked. I blew out my breath carefully. Through clenched teeth, I attempted a sweet, non-condescending, patient tone. It didn’t work.
“Power of Attorney,” I bit out the fib.
“Ohh,” she nodded knowingly. I eye-rolled in my imagination
“Jenna… Cash?”
“Oh yeah, hold on a minute, I’ll get him.” She turned and walked off, her overly permed head of frizz separated into black roots and blond ends fanni
ng out behind her, bless her heart. I tried to talk myself into not being so judgmental. I mentally apologized. Jenna didn’t deserve what probably should be directed at Cash, who advertently or inadvertently had mixed me up in something the state bar probably wouldn’t approve of.
“Lilly?” Cash looked like crap on a cracker.
“Ready?” I asked shortly.
“I didn’t really figure on you coming to get me. I mean, Mom and Dad’ll be here soon,” he told me, running his hand nervously through his mussed hair, the fluorescent lights picking up the hints of red.
“Huh. Well, I suppose the early bird gets the snake. Since I’m first, I get dibs. Let’s go,” I responded. He started walking with me toward the door, shaking his head.
“You paid for my bail?” he questioned, gratitude coloring his tone. I quickly dispelled him of that notion.
“Nope, you did. I got your checkbook from your office last night.” I watched him visibly swallow hard beside me, squinting as we stepped into the hot sun.
“Uh, how? How’d you get the key? When last night? I mean what time?” he stuttered and rushed all at the same time.
“From your stuff they took away from you. After I got home. I’m not sure what time it was,” I tossed off. I stopped short beside my Jeep, turning to face him. “Cash, what’ve you gotten involved in?” I asked point blank. His features took on a decidedly defensive mask.
“Are you asking me if I killed Tina?” he managed to sound hurt, indignant, and incredulous all at once. I did more eye-rolling in my head.
“No, but I want to know what’s going on.”
“Well how should I know?” he burst out. “She probably pissed someone off, and he killed her. And I’m the most likely suspect. They always start with the husband. Or maybe it was an accident, and he was aiming for me. It was my house.” I stalled at the pronouns, storing it in my mind and adding it to the growing list of guilty implications that were deftly stacking up against Cash.
“Like I said before, I’m not talking about Tina, although I’m assuming she’s involved.” Cash looked at me warily. I returned the gaze mulishly. I hoped no one was walking by in earshot or that the old biddies in the courthouse weren’t looking out the window. My mother would be down here faster than I could blink.
“Cash… why is there a price list for body parts in your office?” I asked, steeling myself for the answer. He physically stepped back and his shoulders slumped. Cash was a master game-player, but only when he was prepared. He wasn’t now. But Cash’s offense was always a good defense.
“Listen darlin’,” he sneered. I recoiled. “I think you’ve been readin’ too many romance mystery novels lately. I may be involved in something, but it’s none of your business. Don’t you go worryin’ your pretty little head about it. Let it go.” A snarling finish, laced with spit on his upper lip, had me narrowing my eyes at Cash in worry. For him. For myself.
“Don’t darlin’ me, Cash,” I pointed my finger assertively; “I’m your lawyer and have a right to know.” A hard set to his mouth erased any trace of flippancy.
“Well as of last night, you’re no longer my lawyer. Remember that. You fired me. Furthermore, I think it’s pretty obvious I’m no longer in need of a divorce.”
He turned on one heel to walk away. Irritation bubbled to the surface. Tina’s death was still lingering in my mind and his casual brush-off pushed me over the edge. Not so much on her behalf, but on principle’s sake.
“Well how about I deserve to know because you owe me.” He stopped and started to slowly turn around. “Because for the past seven years I’ve allowed the town to think our not being together was a mutual decision. Because my compassion for your moral compass kept my tongue in check about you being with Tina behind my back. About me knowing the reason you never called after I left for school was because you were with her. About the fact that I never confronted you because I knew you’d feel you’d done the wrong thing, but as long as I never said anything, you could be in denial to yourself?” I trailed off. “How about because of all that?” I gazed up at him as he walked close and took my upper arms in his hands
He looked tired. And old. And faded. At only thirty, he had too many wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. His hair was thinning and graying. His muscles were loose and sagging. And he was looking at me with defeat and sadness in his eyes. And yeah, the regret was definitely there. Anger was replaced with compassion as I watched him set his jaw.
I had always thought Cash had the rare, disarming potential to be an absolutely phenomenal person. I mean, like with the potential to do great things and deeds, to touch people’s lives. In certain instances, he has this charismatic, enigmatic presence that’s almost too much to put into real words. That’s about one percent of the time. The other ninety-nine percent, he acts like a horrible person, lacking in morals and manners. He peed on prize rosebushes, blew up bullfrogs with firecrackers, broke hearts, lied to his mother, cheated at poker and worked real hard to make everyone hate his ever-loving guts. Ninety-nine percent of the time he earned the reputation, and ninety-nine percent of the time I agreed with everyone. It was that one percent that was my undoing, because I had been allowed to see the rarest of glimpses into Cash’s potential and what he could be. When we weren’t arguing, and that charisma and charm, free from its usual manipulation, was bestowed upon me, it felt as though world peace and money on trees were a possibility. I had always thought Cash had resisted fulfilling his promise because he more enjoyed playing the role of the rakish debonair. But as I looked into his defeat-filled eyes, I saw what my heart had resisted seeing for so long.
Cash was afraid. He’d always been afraid. Maybe he’d been traveling down the road of bad intentions for so long and ignoring the forks that would have allowed him to make a change that his options had all run out. Cash was in his own personal hell and wasn’t going to be able to talk himself out of it. And I wasn’t a good enough lawyer or a nice enough person to fill that void for him. I struggled with something to say to him, but he beat me to the punch. Cash would always choose easy. I didn’t know if that made him a jackass. Or just easy. Or which was worse.
“I do owe you, Lilly,” he conceded with a sigh and an ironic twist of his mouth, “But you’re asking way too much of me.” He released me and walked off, shoulders slumped and head down.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I had made a decision. Come hell or high water, I was going to figure out what was going on around here. Saturday morning, I resolutely pulled my hot pink running shoes out of the closet and threw on poison green short shorts and a neon orange tank top. I was sitting on the bed, lacing up my shoes, when Tally leaned lazily against the doorframe.
“You’re up early. Trying to burn off some sexual angst?” she grinned cagily.
“No. Clearing my head and getting my thoughts straight. I’m going running. Wanna go?” Tally laughed.
“Don’t you remember? I’m allergic to exercise.” I snorted derisively.
“You’re lazy,” I corrected, pulling my hair back with a stretchy headband.
“That too,” she laughed, and then her expression turned serious. “You okay? The only time you ever want to go running is when something’s really bothering you.”
“Something really is bothering me. But I’m okay,” I said, “I need to get to the bottom of everything. I know Scotty’s working it all, but I need to know what’s going on for my own sanity. And for Kelli and Ronnie Duvall,” I informed her. She clapped gleefully.
“It’s about time! Do you have to run? I wanna help.” I looked at her.
“You know, two heads are better than one,” I regarded her thoughtfully. “And three or four are better than two. Tell you what,” I told her, warming to the idea, “Call Fae Lynn and tell her to round up the girls. Between everybody, we should have enough circumstantial evidence to fill in the blanks and piece the puzzle together.” Tally was nodding.
“We’ll need lots of cheese,” she said. I stopped and
cocked an eyebrow. “For dip, not tailpipes. It helps me think,” she said defensively in response to my expression. I laughed. “And chocolate,” she grinned back.
“Let the brainstorming commence.” I walked out the door and headed toward the dirt road, leaving Tally to plan what was sure to turn into an all out get out hen party by the time she was through. But honestly, with this group of women, there wasn’t a thing that couldn’t be solved or handled. And if the powers of cheese and chocolate only enhanced the process, so be it.
I stretched as I walked, enjoying the balm of the hot brunch-time breeze. I took off, listing the facts I had.
I had someone shooting at Cash. I had Tina dead in a fire, and someone trying to pin it on Cash. Or someone taking a second shot at Cash, which was an interesting theory.
I just didn’t think Cash had killed Tina, though. I just couldn’t wrap my mind around Cash actually having the stomach to physically hurt someone. Prevarication was one thing; cold-blooded murder was completely another. Plus he was too smart (in my mind) to do that to his career. And what was his motivating factor? Up until our exchange on the hill, I’d vowed to make sure he didn’t lose any of his assets. Just what kind of assets had I vowed to save? And where did they come from? Why would Cash need that kind of money?
I doubled back and continued with the facts. Implicating, odd medical records in the hospital files. In Cash’s office. A gun-carrying Spencer Locke who bore little resemblance to any simple Yankee, who may or may not have had anything to do with Cash’s situation, but it was almost too coincidental. That discernment I’d asked for was nudging me toward not ignoring it. Be careful what you pray for.
Would Cash really do something so depraved? Cutting open dead people to sell their body parts? Maybe even killing for them? What would make Cash do that? His reputation had always been his driving factor, even when it appeared he was doing his best to destroy it.
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