Uncovered: A Hearts of the South story

by Linda Winfree

  He narrowed his eyes. “You think you’ve won, don’t you?”

  She linked her arms about his neck and kissed his jaw. “Yes.”

  “Just like that.” He slipped his hands down her back, over her cute little rear, to the backs of her thighs. “I’m going to come to heel and talk it out with her.”

  “Not just like that,” she conceded, moving her lips to the corner of his. She tightened her hold on his neck, pressing to him. “But you’re thinking about talking to her.”

  He nodded, flexing his arms, lifting her a little. “Falconetti, you’re insufferable when you think you’re right.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t make it so easy for me, Calvert.” She tipped her head back to look at him, hair falling over her shoulders. Damn, she was a tease and insufferable. A chuckle lodged itself in his throat.

  “Making it easy for you wasn’t what I had in mind.” He lifted her higher, pulling her knees forward, sending her backward on the mattress. He came down over her, between her thighs, laughing at the flare of surprise in her green eyes. Sometimes a guy had to get the upper hand however he could get it. He caught her chin and kissed her, hard. He rubbed a thumb over her shoulder and grinned. “I win.”

  “Really?” With a wicked smile, she pulled his mouth down to hers, hugging his hips with her thighs. “We’ll have to see about that, Calvert.”

  After several moments, he lifted his mouth from hers and rested his forehead on her shoulder. “Wickedly brilliant and objective sheriff’s investigator, huh?”

  Her quiet laugh puffed against his temple and she threaded her fingers through his hair. “That’s the one I love.”

  He rolled away to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t get it, Cait. If she wanted to use me to get back at Allison, there were other ways. Better ways. That doesn’t explain that whole mess at Mama’s.”

  “Teenage girl. Unstable family life. Highly distressed.” Caitlin lifted a hand and ticked off the points. “Drunk. Maybe some conditioning.”

  “Conditioning?”

  “Tori says your mother didn’t like Allison.”

  He harrumphed and let his eyes slide closed. “That’s putting it mildly.”

  “Tick, sweet thing, you were raised in a conservative home where sex was equated with commitment. We’re talking about the girl who seduced your mother’s firstborn son in a football equipment room. I’m not surprised Lenora didn’t like her.”

  “Wait a minute.” He turned his head. “How do you know I didn’t do the seducing?”

  She only gazed back at him.

  “All right, fine. It was Allison’s idea.”

  “Okay, so tell me why you were drawn to Allison in the first place?”

  “I…” He closed his mouth and frowned. “I don’t remember.”

  “Then let’s rephrase the question.” She rolled to lever up on an elbow. “Who made the first move in the relationship?”

  “I asked her out.”

  Caitlin arched one eyebrow. “Why?”

  “Because…” He frowned, casting back in his memory for long-forgotten details. A flirtatious smile as Allison passed his locker in the hall. Little notes tucked under his windshield wiper.

  “She pursued you, didn’t she?”

  “Yeah.” He rolled so they faced one another. “How did you guess?”

  “Because. I know you.” She trailed a fingertip along his chest. “You’re quite capable of—and good at—pursuit and seduction when it suits you. When you want something, you go after it, and you’re unshakeable until you succeed. If you couldn’t tell me why you were drawn to her, then you weren’t the pursuer.”

  “All right.” He tangled their feet together. “So explain to me what this has to do with Madeline’s ‘conditioning’.”

  “Remember, I’m only theorizing.” She met his gaze, her own serious, and he nodded. “She expected you to respond to her despite the earlier animosity between you two. You were sexually active with Allison. Madeline was probably already active as well—”

  “Uh, yeah. With more than one boy. She didn’t hide it and that made her daddy crazy.”

  “Like conquests, then? Situations where she was the one in control, making the moves.”

  “Maybe.” He frowned. “Yeah, probably.”

  “This is a girl who’s used to boys responding to sexual overtures. Her focus was not on you and…” She sighed. “Tick, sweet thing, you were a vehicle, a means. At that point, it probably never even occurred to her to think of you as a person, to think about what she was doing until it all blew up in her face. Then it was too late and all she had left, all she still has left, was the guilt and the shame.”

  ***

  Humming a quiet made-up tune, Madeline settled into her squeaky desk chair and flipped open the phone book. She skimmed a fingernail over the “C” listings…Calvert, Charles; Calvert, Delbert; Calvert, Lamar—my God, how many of them were there, anyway?—Carden, Childers, Chitwood, Clark…Coker, Lorraine.

  Yes, that was her, Kelly’s mama. They’d called her Miss Lorraine, just as her own mama had been Miss Miranda. Way back when, Lorraine Coker had been a hardworking single mother, with two jobs, a sweet no-nonsense heart and a headstrong teenage daughter. Madeline frowned over the address. 1335 Poison Ivy Way. She didn’t recognize that street name.

  “Hey.”

  At Tick’s deep drawl, she glanced up. He paused at the counter, pouring a cup of coffee. Replacing the carafe, he jerked his chin in the general direction of the phone book. “Mrs. Coker lives out at Poison Ivy Way.”

  How did he…? “I see that. I don’t remember that road, though.”

  “I wouldn’t call it a road, per se.” Mug in hand, he dropped into the chair at Cook’s desk. The edges of his hair still seemed damp, what looked like a shaving nick marring the shadowy area below his chin. Madeline narrowed her eyes—no, not a nick. A tiny love bite.

  Ick.

  She forced her attention back to the conversation. “What would you call it, if it’s not a road?”

  “A long-ass driveway.” He grinned over the rim of his mug. “She bought one of the acreages along Stagecoach Road a year or so back. Calls the department every time one of Drew Barron’s cows gets on her land.”

  “I’d like to talk with her. If she has Kelly’s dental records, or knows how we could get them…”

  Tick set his mug down and rubbed both thumbs over its side. “You realize this is a long shot?”

  She lifted her eyebrows at him. “You got a better lead?”

  He pinned her with a long-suffering look. “So, if it’s her, who would she have seen if she’d come back?”

  Me. The syllable flitted through Madeline’s brain and brought a little snag of pain with it. She’d have thought that, long years ago, but obviously, she’d have been wrong.

  “Madeline?”

  At the quiet prod, she looked up and shrugged. “I would have thought she’d come see me, but I guess not. Donna and Stacy, maybe.”

  His brows dipped in a frown. “Not Allison? She was in that photo you had last night.”

  Irritation spiked in her. How could he even ask that? Oh, of course. He’d never even been aware of what had happened, and that simple lack of perception pissed her off. She smothered the irrational anger.

  “No, not Allison.”

  He nodded but didn’t ask further questions. “After we talk to her mother, we should interview her friends and acquaintances, anyone with whom she might have made contact in the last… Hell, that’s a lot of time.”

  “I know.” The possible time span stretched before her, and Madeline tapped her fingers on the desk. “But Ford said this girl was still young—late teens. If it is Kelly, that means we’re looking at…a shorter time span. Fifteen to eighteen years ago.”

  “Three years.” A pained grin quirked at the corner of his mouth. “Still a hell of a lot of time.”

  “We can narrow it.” She slapped the phone book closed and dropped it back in the drawer. �
�Let’s go talk to Lorraine Coker.”

  Tick shot her a half-amused look over his mug. “Are you always this eager?”

  “Well, yeah.” She was a homicide detective. She lived for this stuff. “Why?”

  His shoulders rolled in an offhand shrug. “I like it.”

  Now, that was scary.

  Even scarier was the warm flush of acceptance his mild approval engendered. An awkward pause descended. He cleared his throat, coughed into a fist. “We can ride out that way, see if she’s home, if you like.”

  “Sounds good.” She rose and grabbed her jacket, fishing the unit keys from her pocket.

  He rose and drained his cup. “Let me grab my coat, and I’ll meet you out front.”

  Early-morning traffic was next to nothing, and soon they left the city limits behind. Farmland, pecan groves and pieces of hunting plantations spread out on either side of the rural highway. Madeline noted even the smallest changes in the landscape—the old Bullington place had been razed, the Garret house stood empty, a couple of new doublewides had replaced two old shotgun shacks along the way.

  Tick tapped his thumb on his knee in what she now recognized as his “thinking” gesture. Silent, he cast periodic glances in her direction, strange, speculative looks that made her skin creep with nerves.

  She glared at him as she slowed to turn left on Tuton Road. “What?”

  He’d been gazing out the window at the broken-down feed store then, and he jumped at her voice. “What?”

  An almost immediate four-way intersection required her to stop. She pinned him with a glower. “You keep looking at me like I’ve sprouted…I don’t know, extra body parts or something.”

  He lifted both hands in a clear what-the-hell gesture. “I was thinking.”

  She didn’t take her foot off the brake, despite the lack of oncoming traffic from any direction. “About?”

  Eyes narrowed, he opened his mouth and snapped it shut again. “I was just…thinking.”

  Annoyance shivered through her. “You’re beyond strange, Calvert.”

  With a roll of his dark eyes, he waved toward the intersection. “Are we going to do this interview or not, Holton?”

  Brushing off the frustrating exchange, she accelerated through the intersection, hooking the first right on Stagecoach. It didn’t take her long to find the long, rutted dirt drive labeled Poison Ivy Way, which traveled through overgrown underbrush along a couple of twists and curves before opening up to a small cleared patch of land, heavily landscaped with every plant known to a Lowe’s garden center. A small grayish blue doublewide sat between old oak trees, an early-model Toyota parked by the side.

  Madeline pulled to a stop behind the car and killed the engine. Nerves sparked under her skin. What if she was wrong? What if it wasn’t Kelly? She was about to put every parent’s worst nightmare in front of Lorraine Coker. The idea was daunting, and from Tick’s terse expression, she knew he was thinking about that too.

  The glass storm door swung open as they walked up the dirt path to the steps.

  “Madeline Holton, is that you?”

  It was Miss Lorraine, but time had not been kind to her. The hair that had once upon a time been dyed a glossy black now lay in tight too-permed, too-bleached curls close to her head. Heavy smoker’s lines creased her face, the thin skin making her appear closer to seventy than the almost-sixty Madeline knew she was. Beneath her thin cotton housedress, blue spidery veins marred skinny legs.

  Madeline smiled. “It’s me, Miss Lorraine. How are you?”

  “Better now that I’ve seen you.” The painfully raspy voice was the same. Miss Lorraine waved her up the steps. “Get up here and give me a hug, girl.”

  Still smiling, but with her heart already aching, Madeline obeyed. The steps rattled beneath her feet. Lorraine wrapped her in a cloud of stale cigarette smoke and Jean Nate. She rubbed a hand over Madeline’s back.

  “Oh, it is so good to see you,” she whispered into Madeline’s hair. She held on a moment longer, until Madeline’s eyes stung, then released her and stepped back. “Let me look at you. My Lord, aren’t you beautiful?”

  “I don’t know about that—”

  “There you go.” Lorraine shook her head. “Same old Maddie, won’t take a compliment to save your life. Never did understand that about you, girl, as sweet, smart and pretty as you are.”

  Madeline was ready for the floor to open and swallow her at any moment, with Tick standing behind her, listening and silent. She could only imagine what he had to say about Lorraine’s description of her as “sweet”.

  “Is that a sheriff’s department badge? Why, honey, are you home for good? Your mama must be so pleased.”

  Pleased probably wasn’t the word Mama would use. Madeline kept that to herself and shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable, but not willing to jump into the real reason for this visit. She disentangled herself as gracefully as she could. “I’m working with the department temporarily.”

  “Well, come on in out of the cold.” Lorraine held the door and waved her inside. She glanced over Madeline’s shoulder. “Come on, Lamar, your mama wouldn’t want you out in the damp either, especially as sick as you were last fall.”

  “Thank you, ma’am, I’m sure not.” A slight ironic smile played around Tick’s mouth as he followed the women into the small home. Madeline slanted an inquisitive look at him. Sick?

  “Sit down, sit down.” Lorraine fussed around the tiny neat living area, seating the two of them on the couch while she settled into the recliner covered with a brightly colored afghan. She reached for the remote and muted the Today show, sending Matt Lauer into silence. “Lamar, I saw your mama in the grocery store just last week. She said the baby’s doing well.”

  “Yes, ma’am, he is.” Tick’s white teeth flashed in a brief, genuine smile.

  “So are you here about Drew’s cows again? I swear, those animals—”

  “Actually, no, Miss Lorraine, that’s not why we’re here.” Madeline darted a quick, uncomfortable look at Tick. He seemed content to let her talk, his demeanor one of hey-this-is-your-idea-that-makes-it-your-show. She cleared her throat against the knot there. “We…earlier this week, the remains of a young girl were discovered. The time period indicates…well, that is—”

  “You think it’s Kelly.” With one foot, Lorraine set the recliner rocking. Her expression didn’t change.

  Madeline swallowed. “I think it’s a possibility.”

  With a silent nod, Lorraine looked away, gazing out the window over their heads. She rocked a moment longer, her pushes harder. “I always thought that, you know, that she might be dead.”

  “Mrs. Coker, we don’t know for sure that it’s Kelly,” Tick said, quiet reassurance in his tone. “We would need to make an identification—”

  “How would you do that?”

  Madeline leaned forward, pitching her own voice to a soft, even tone. “We could use her dental records.”

  “Maybe.” Lorraine shook her head. “She didn’t never see a dentist but once, and that was Dr. Weeks over in Tifton.”

  “He’s retired, but his son runs the practice now. I can call over and get her records.” Tick rested his elbows on his knees.

  Madeline swung her attention back to Lorraine. “Do you have anything of Kelly’s, a diary or her letters?”

  Lorraine shrugged, her rheumy blue eyes dark with pain. “I don’t rightly know what I have, but you’re welcome to all of it, if you’ll think it helps. I boxed up her things, what was left of them, brought them with me.”

  She pushed up from the chair, knees creaking, and shuffled to the short hallway. Madeline caught Tick’s eye and tilted her head. They trailed Lorraine to the back bedroom, as neat and clean and spare as the rest of the house. She fumbled in the closet for a moment, pulling free a lime green storage container.

  “Here it is.” She settled it on the bed, caressing a palm over the lid, much the way Madeline had seen Jack’s mother do his coffin just a
fter his funeral. She wanted to see what lay within that plastic rectangle, but opening it, pawing through the contents in front of Miss Lorraine seemed obscene somehow. They were already bringing her pain and worry, reopening her grief, when really they were working on Madeline’s conjecture.

  Her impulses…and everyone knew where those tended to get her.

  Lorraine made another swipe across the lid, her mouth trembling. “You can take it with you.”

  “Thank you.” Tick inclined his head, eyes solemn. He tugged a small pad free from his jacket’s interior pocket. “I’m going to write you a receipt for this, and just as soon as we’re done, I’ll return it to you personally.”

  Because Madeline wouldn’t be here to do it. The underlying message wasn’t lost on her.

  “That’s fine.” She took the slip and folded it, sliding it into the pocket of her housedress.

  Tick hefted the box. “I’ll put this in the car.”

  Madeline waited for him to clear the room before she took Miss Lorraine’s hand and led her back to the living area. “Other than the postcard Kelly sent me, did you hear from her at all after she left? Through other friends? Did she call, write, anything?”

  “No.” Seated in the rocking recliner once more, Lorraine focused on a spot beyond Madeline’s shoulder, as though that space on the floral-paneled wall would reveal the secrets shrouded by the past. “Just that card you shown me…nothing else.”

  “I’m so sorry we brought this up for you again.” Madeline covered the wrinkled hand, sympathy flooding her. Brought this up? She was pretty sure something brought up Kelly’s loss every single day. “As soon as we know something, I promise I’ll be in touch.”

  Miss Lorraine wrapped her fingers around Madeline’s in a grip surprising in its strength. “You be in touch, anyway. I’ve missed you, Maddie girl, and I’m sure your mama has as well.”

  Madeline leaned down to hug her and brush a swift kiss over her cheek. “I will.”

  She slipped outside, meeting Tick on his way back up the path from the driveway. “Ready?”