“She didn’t dare put her photo on there. Now that I know who wrote it, it’s not fiction by any means.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Read it, and you’ll see why.”
“Why can’t you just tell me? I don’t read romance novels.”
Janie shook her head in frustration. “Son, it’s not just about romance. Look, you’re the sheriff, and if you want to know more about the Neals and what all went on in that trailer when she was growing up, you’ll read the book.”
“I thought you said this was a romance novel.”
Janie rolled her eyes.
29
Gaylene Peterson stood in the basement of the morgue with her arms wrapped around herself. From the moment she’d walked into the room, she hadn’t stopped shivering. The cold radiated off the pale green cinderblock walls as it did the concrete floor. One of the fluorescent lights overhead flickered and buzzed. The smell of formaldehyde was in the air.
She eyed the young attendant with curiosity and wondered how anyone could work in such a place. She noticed that he didn’t seem to be bothered by it—the smell, or the cold.
Strange, she thought, and he’s such a fine lookin’ young man.
She’d guessed he was about her age, forty-one. His hair was cropped short and was as black as his horned rimmed glasses.
“Why y’all gotta keep it so gall darned cold in here for?” Her dark brown eyes scanned the covered body on the gurney. She shivered hard. “You could hang meat in here.” She reached for her ponytail, and grabbed two handfuls of auburn hair, and stretched it to tighten the grip of the elastic band. She folded her arms around her middle again and looked up at Cal. “Can we get this over with? I’m missin’ my soaps.”
Cal nodded to the attendant. The man pulled back the linen sheet just enough to reveal the head of the body.
Gaylene covered her mouth. “Oh my g … !” Her face turned pale. She closed her eyes and jerked her head away.
“Are you okay, Miss Peterson?” Cal asked.
She nodded. “I just never saw a dead body that wasn’t all made up, or … fixed. He’s gotta big hole in his forehead.”
“I’m sorry to have to put you thorough this, but we need an ID on this guy. Do you recognize him?” Cal asked.
She forced herself to turn back and have another look. She swallowed hard. “I guess he was shot in the head, huh?”
When nobody replied. She nodded. “That’s him.” She looked away.
“Are you positive?”
“Yes, but he’s not so handsome anymore. It’s hard to believe by lookin’ at him now that he ever was.” She shivered hard again. “Can I go now?” She covered her mouth and then bent at the waist. “Oh, no.”
Cal reached to steady her. The attendant grabbed a nearby waste can and slid it in front of her.
When she had emptied her stomach, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “That is so embarrassin’.”
“Don’t think a thing about it, Miss Peterson. You’re not the first person,” Cal said.
She straightened up and took a deep breath. The smell of formaldehyde and other chemicals caused her stomach to roll over again.
“Are you are okay?” Cal asked.
She nodded.
“Is this the man that was signed in at the Inn?” he asked again.
“Yes, that’s Jorge Ramirez. Well, that’s what his signature said anyways. He’s the one who always paid the bill. Paid in cash.”
“Listen, Gaylene, I need you to keep quiet about this.”
She gave him a puzzled look. “I don’t understand.”
He ran a hand over his chin and looked away. “We ask anyone who ID’s a body to not say anything until after we can locate the next of kin.”
She nodded. “Sure. No problem.”
Even a white lie, left a bad taste in Cal’s mouth, but he felt in his gut that the Neals’ murders were connected to the Ramirez murder.
* * *
Cal sat at his desk and read over the autopsy report of Virgil and Wanda. He shook his head. He couldn’t understand how anyone could be so cold and brutal. Since he’d been in law enforcement, he’d not seen anything like it. They had been beaten, and stabbed multiple times, and then the bullets ended their torment.
What did Jorge Ramirez have to do with all of this? He had to be connected somehow, although his time of death was at least eighteen hours before the Neals’. Two million dollars buried under their trailer. Where did it come from? Sometimes it was best to just sit back and watch to see who knows anything. Whoever the money belonged to, can’t keep quiet forever. That’s a lot of money to lose. They’re bound to be biting at the bit right about now.
He tossed the reports down on his desk and picked up the telephone receiver. He eyed the number he’d jotted down days ago on a notepad and punched in the numbers. After three rings the housekeeper answered.
“Maggie, this is Sheriff Rayburn. I need to speak with Ag …” he eyed the paperback on his desk, “Raven Sawyer, please.”
“Hold on, and I’ll see if she’s here.”
He drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited.
“Hello?” Raven’s voice caught him by surprise. He’d thought she wouldn’t take the call.
“Uh, Raven, this is Cal. I called to let you know the bodies are being released first thing in the morning.”
“So you’ve gotten the autopsy report?”
“Yes.”
“What was the cause of death?”
He hesitated. “They’d been shot.”
“You needed an autopsy report for that? I’d think that would be obvious.”
“Well, there’s more to it than just that, I’m afraid.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know you’re anxious to make funeral arrangements.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Well, you might want to consider a closed casket service for both of them.”
“Oh?”
“I’m sorry, but I’d rather not spell it out for you.”
She was quiet a moment and then said, “Thank you, Cal.”
“All you need to do is get the funeral director to have someone pick up the bodies from the morgue.”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, thank you for calling.”
“Raven?”
“Yes.”
“I’m very sorry about your father.”
“Thank you.”
He heard a click at the other end. He hung up the receiver. He grabbed his hat off his desk, scooted his chair back, stood, and walked toward the door. Half way across the room, he stopped, turned back, and grabbed the paperback off his desk, and then left his office.
30
The next morning Raven stood in the foyer and fished around in her purse for her car keys.
“Where are you going?” Callie stopped at the foot of the stairs and eyed Raven.
“To make funeral arrangements.” Raven dug deeper in her purse.
“I hope you don’t think I’m going to help pay for your daddy’s and his wife’s funeral.”
Raven cut her eyes at Callie. “No, I don’t expect anything from you.”
Callie squinted at Raven. “You know I’ve always been a good mother to you. I gave up so much when you were born.”
“Like what?” Raven latched onto her keys.
Callie stiffened her shoulders. “My career for one.”
“I don’t recall you ever mentioning having a career.” She placed her purse strap over her shoulder.
Callie crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s because I’d given it up before you were born.”
“What career?”
Callie’s eyes widened, and then she looked away. After a moment, she looked back at her. “I was a lead singer in a band.”
“And what band was that?”
“What? You don’t believe me?”
R
aven gave her head a slow shake. She opened the door.
“Wait!” Callie hurried across the way and stopped at the door.
Raven turned and looked at her.
“I’ve noticed you’ve been on your cell phone and making a lot of phone calls since you’ve been here. Who’ve you been calling?”
Raven eyed her a moment. “Nobody you know.”
“Really?”
“Really, Mother.”
“Where’s the dog?”
“Ted took him for a walk. Said he’d watch him for me.”
“Ted’s not working today?”
“Apparently not.” Raven walked on out to her car and got inside. She inserted the key, started it, and drove the circle drive in front of the house, and then down the driveway.
Momma has lied so much, she doesn’t remember her lies anymore. Who knows what the truth is when she speaks?
The sun was bright and not a cloud in the sky to cool off the day. She thanked God for the air-conditioning every time she thought about it. When she lived with Virgil and Callie, the trailer had been hot in the summer. If it hadn’t been for the shade trees nearby, they would have burnt up on some days. The air-conditioner unit was closer to the master bedroom. Her bedroom had been at the opposite end of the trailer, and it stayed hot in the summer and cold in the winter.
Raven’s cell phone chirped. She grabbed it out of her purse and put it to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?” Rebecca asked.
“Oh, Becca, I’m so sorry I haven’t called you.”
“Don’t worry about it. I know things must be crazy there. How are you?”
“I’m okay. Well, as okay as I can be, considering.”
“I’m so sorry. How did the funeral go?”
“I’m on the way now to make those arrangements.”
There was silence at the other end.
“Becca? Are you still there?”
“Uh, yes. I’m just surprised that they’d keep a body that long. I guess they do things differently in the south.”
Raven sighed. “I should have called and told you what was going on. They had to do autopsies and have just released the bodies for burial.”
“Oh! Wait, did you say bodies?”
“Yes. My father had remarried.”
“But why autopsies? What happened?”
“They were murdered.”
“Oh my! I’m so sorry, Raven.”
“Thanks. I’ll call you as soon as I’m on my way home. How’s Tory? Did she ever get over the stomach bug?”
“Tory is fine. She’s back at camp, and the girls are having a ball. When you get back, we’ll all have to get together and have a girls’ day out.”
“I’d like that.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve taken care of it. I’ve met with the editor and the publisher. I don’t want you to worry about a thing here. You take care of yourself.”
“Thanks, Becca. I plan on getting out of here and heading home as soon as I can.”
She said goodbye and disconnected. Ten minutes later, she pulled into the Johnson’s Funeral Home parking lot.
After an hour and forty-five minutes, she was back in her car. She drove toward the interstate. Her stomach growled. When she had been in high school, she had worked at a diner just off the interstate on Main Street. She pulled into the parking lot and got out. She made her way to the front door and opened it. She walked in and looked around for a booth. After she spotted one near the back, she made her way to it.
A waitress walked over with a menu. “Can I get you something to drink while you look over the menu?”
“Tea, please.”
“Sweet or unsweet?”
“Un … make it sweet.” She smiled up at the waitress.
“I’ll have it here in just a jiffy.” She turned on her heel and headed toward the counter.
Raven held the menu up at eye level. Someone sat down across from her. She peered over the top of the menu at Janie.
“Well now, the prodigal child returns.” Janie scooted a glass of iced tea in front of Raven.
“Janie. It’s nice to see you again.” Raven smiled.
“Always a pleasure, Agnes … I’m sorry, it’s Raven now, isn’t it?” Janie placed her elbows on the table, clasped her fingers together, and rested her chin on her knuckles.
Raven put the menu down, positioned her arms on the table, and laced her fingers together. “Word travels fast.”
“Why would you want to keep your name a secret?” Janie squinted at her.
Raven gave her a head a small quick shake and thinned her lips. “It’s a long story.”
Janie pursed her bottom lip and nodded. “Of course.” She reached over to the corner of the table and straightened the salt and pepper shakers while she watched her from the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry about your pa and your step-mother.”
Raven adjusted her position in her seat. “Thanks.”
The waitress appeared and asked, “Are you ready to order?”
“House salad with the house dressing, please,” Raven said and smiled up at her.
When the waitress left, Janie asked, “When’s the funeral?”
“No funeral, just graveside services at Greenwood Lawns. It’s scheduled for Saturday at ten o’clock.”
“You staying on awhile?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ve got a life now, Janie.”
She knew why Janie was so inquisitive. She’d always liked Cal’s mother. When she and Cal had dated, Janie had always made sure that Raven was invited to every family get-together.
“That’s good, but you had one here too, you know? Might not have been perfect, but you did live here, grew up here, and left some family and good friends behind.”
Raven gave her a half smile. “Friends?” Family?
“Yea, me for one.”
She nodded. “And can you name anymore?”
“Cal.”
“Cal and I dated, we weren’t necessarily friends.” Raven used her fingers in quote. She folded her arms across each other and leaned forward. “I didn’t have friends in high school. I was too geeky. A book nerd. Kids only hung around me for short durations, hoping I’d do their homework for them. I didn’t have any real friends.”
“And that’s a shame too. You were, and I’m positive you still are, a nice person. I’ve always respected you.”
“Thank you, Janie. I’ve always liked and respected you too.”
“Well, I’d bet you’d have a lot of friends here now.” She chuckled. “Bet they’d all be saying how they knew you in school, and you were their best friend, and so on.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Janie laughed. “Your book. Everyone in this town has read it or is reading it.”
The color washed from Raven’s face.
“Are you okay?” Janie asked.
Raven took a drink of her tea and then lowered her gaze when she set her glass down on the table. “I suppose there’s no denying it.”
“Why would you want to? You’re a talented young woman.”
Raven’s eyes looked into Janie’s. “Have you read it?”
She nodded.
“Well, I don’t want the attention because of the book or any other reason for that matter. And before that could ever happen, I want to be long gone.” Raven picked up her tea glass and took another sip.
“Did you get married?”
Raven gave her a puzzled look. “No.”
“I was just wondering about your last name, Sawyer.”
“Oh. No, I did an Eeny, meeny, miny, moe in the phone book and landed on Sawyer.”
“I figured you’d be married and have a child by now.” Janie studied her.
Her eyes looked away as she set down her glass. “I don’t have time for dating or marriage.”
“Your mother, how is she these days?”
She shrugged. “Okay … she’s okay.”
The waitr
ess returned with her order and set her salad on the table. “Will there be anything else?”
“No, thanks!”
Raven bowed her head and closed her eyes for a moment. She picked up her fork and took a bite of salad.
“I don’t recall you ever praying before. I mean—when you used to work here, and when you and Cal were dating, and when y’all would come by the house for Sunday dinner. I don’t mean to be nosey, but?” She turned her head a tad and eyed her.
“I began attending church while I was in college. I got saved.”
“Wow! That’s great,” Janie said.
Raven glanced up at her and saw the curious look on her face. “What?”
“Does you mother know?”
“No. Why?”
The corner of Janie’s mouth rose. “No reason, just wondered.”
31
Suzanne knelt down and placed a bouquet of pink roses on the small gravesite, roses that she had grown in her rose garden. She reached down and pulled long blades of grass away from the headstone that the caretaker had missed with the weed trimmer. She tossed them aside and looked up at the small statue of an angel sitting on top of the headstone and cradling infant. Tears ran down her cheeks as she ran her fingers over the name that was engraved.
Amelia Anne Rayburn
Now in the arms of an angel.
July 4, 1985 – July 12, 1985
“I miss you so much, my little Amelia, my sweet baby girl,” she whispered.
She had visited on holidays and Amelia’s birthday. She had visited once a week the first year after her death. The years that followed, with the exception of Amelia’s birthday, she visited once a month, but always on the twelfth. Today was the twenty-eight anniversary of her death. She had been there that last Tuesday for her birthday on the fourth.
Her shoulders slumped as she hung her head. Tears flowed down her cheeks and dripped from her chin. It felt like yesterday when she’d lost Amelia. Suzanne had awoken early every morning before Amelia was awake to get ready for her day. She had rushed about to get what needed to be done out of the way so she could spend all day with her baby. She hadn’t hired a nanny and didn’t want one. Amelia was her responsibility and her joy in life.
Diana Anderson - Entering Southern Country 01 - Famous in a Small Town Page 9