by Webb, Debra
Wyatt glanced at the other deputies, who had stopped their work to listen to her rant. “I think we should have this discussion in my office.”
“Doesn’t matter where we have it, the result will be the same.”
She knew the ploy. He was buying time to regroup. He’d likely planned exactly what he would say if she stuck by her guns on the issue, but he hadn’t actually believed she would do it. Now he was having second thoughts about his original game plan. Not only would she be in his way, he would have to answer to Cyrus for allowing her to be a part of the investigation.
Just because this was Wyatt—a man she’d once loved with her entire being—he would not be immune to the old bastard who owned this part of Mississippi.
Once they were back in his office Wyatt closed the door. “When Cyrus’s boys find out you’re here, the shit will hit the fan. You know this. This case demands all my department’s resources. I don’t have time to work this investigation and protect you.”
Adeline crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t need your protection.”
He laughed but the sound held no humor. “When you left, I believe the exodus order from your uncle went something like, set foot in Mississippi again and you’re dead.”
“That’s right,” she agreed. “But I’m not afraid of my uncle. I never have been. I haven’t stayed away because of Cooper’s law. I haven’t been back to Mississippi before now because there was nothing to come back for.”
Wyatt flinched.
Victory tore through her. She’d nailed him with that one. “Let’s get this straight once and for all,” she warned. “I’m here until this is done. Deal with it.”
Five, then ten seconds elapsed before the color of outrage faded from his face. He took a deep breath and said, “You’ll be staying with your momma?”
“No. I don’t want my presence to bring any trouble to her door. I’ll stay at the Shady Oaks over on Delmas.”
“Not a good idea.” He shook his head. “That place is even more of a dive than it used to be. There are other places.” He named a couple of the chain motels that had moved into the area since she’d left.
“I won’t be spending much time there so it doesn’t really matter. A quick shower, a few hours’ sleep.” She shook her head. “Not a big deal. I’d rather be close to downtown.” The Shady Oaks was only a few blocks from the courthouse.
“Does your momma know you’re here?”
“I let her know I was coming, if that’s what you’re asking. She isn’t expecting me to stay at the house. The house is on Cooper land. She knows I won’t come there.”
He shoved the files on his desk into a drawer. “It’s been a long day. I’ll escort you to the motel and we’ll convene at eight tomorrow morning to kick off the search and then we’ll go over the case.”
“You said you planned to conduct a couple of interviews.”
He rounded his desk, reached for his coat. “That’s right.”
“I’d like to sit in on those.”
“I’ll consider the request.”
Great. He wasn’t going to make a single aspect of this easy. “Do you mind if I take the file and read up on the interviews conducted so far?”
“I had a copy made just in case you asked.” He went back to his desk and picked up the numerous pages held together by a binder clip.
He’d gone to the trouble to make the copy but hadn’t offered to share until she asked.
Perfect.
Outside, the air was cool. But not as cool as back home in Huntsville. The gulf weather was great in the winter, but in the summer it would be muggy as hell and the mosquitoes would carry your ass off.
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t taken the time to eat today. She would pick something up later. It wasn’t like the Shady Oaks Motel had room service, but there was probably someplace close that delivered. She would check the phone book once she had a room. No way would she ask Wyatt and have him insist on joining her for a sandwich. If she mentioned food he would feel compelled to do the gentlemanly thing.
Too bad he’d fallen down on the job nine years ago.
If she hadn’t been so deep in the past, she might have recognized something was wrong. But she’d been way down memory lane and hadn’t gotten her head out of her ass until she was halfway across the street.
Wyatt drew up short first.
Adeline halted as the reality of what her eyes saw was absorbed by her brain.
Her big old four-wheel-drive Bronco was her baby. Thirty-six-inch tires. Six-inch suspension lifts. Roll bar. Bad-ass exhaust pipes. The world knew she was coming well before she turned a corner. She had spared no expense on her baby.
She snapped out of the disbelief and sprinted the rest of the way to where she’d parked. Walked all the way around her vehicle before she could speak.
“Motherfucker!”
All four tires had been slashed.
“Welcome home, Addy,” Wyatt muttered.
Chapter Six
4718 Miller Road, 8:45 P.M.
“This is not a good idea.”
He’d said that about half a dozen times already. “Just wait in the car, Wyatt.” Adeline wasn’t going over this again. She reached for the door handle.
“I’m going in with you.”
“That’s not necessary.” The old bastard knew she was coming. He was probably watching out the window at that very moment.
“The hell you say.” Wyatt got out.
Adeline rolled her eyes and did the same. She slammed the door of the SUV to show her displeasure.
Cyrus Cooper’s place stood about halfway between Moss Point and Pascagoula. The Coopers owned the land for as far as the eye could see. Nothing but woods butting up to the river. Too lazy to farm any of it. Too ornery to develop a single acre. Cyrus’s only brother, Adeline’s father, had owned the adjoining farm. Her mother had lived there alone since his death ten years ago.
Adeline hadn’t set foot on either place in nine years. Had sworn she never would again.
Right now she was too pissed to give one shit what anyone thought of her change of heart.
She climbed the steps to the old plantation-style house that had been in the Cooper family since before the Civil War. Ancient live oaks populated the yard, Spanish moss dangling from the long limbs. Every square foot of the house, inside and out, was meticulously maintained. And yet, with the looming trees and its hurricane shutters closed over the windows, the place could easily be mistaken for something out of a horror flick.
Adeline walked straight up to the door and banged hard.
Wyatt took his time reaching the door. He’d called Cyrus to let him know they were coming. Most likely to prevent being shot by some of his hired guns. Folks knew better than to show up unannounced on Cooper land.
The door opened and a tall, thin man stepped back for Adeline to enter. “Mr. Cyrus is expecting you,” he said. “He’s waiting in the parlor.”
“Thanks.” Adeline didn’t hesitate. She strode across the entry hall to the double doors leading into the parlor, slid the pocket doors apart and stepped inside. Wyatt didn’t permit her to get more than two steps ahead of him.
Cyrus sat next to the sofa, his legs and lap covered with a blanket that couldn’t disguise the fact that he was seated in a wheelchair. The wheelchair was new, so was his man Friday. When Adeline had last had words with Cyrus, he’d been quite mobile on crutches. No more apparently. That he had himself a manservant spoke volumes about just how incapacitated he was. Adeline hated to feel glee from anyone’s misery but she did just the same.
The fact was, this part of Mississippi would have been a better place if the old bastard had died in the car accident that had stolen his ability to walk without assistance thirty-some years ago. Apparently his damaged back had finally given in to mere human frailty.
“You’re just as beautiful as your mother said,” Cyrus declared. “Your daddy would be proud.”
What the he
ll was he doing talking to her mother?
“I didn’t come here to exchange pleasantries, old man.” Fury throbbed in Adeline’s veins. How dare this old bastard try to talk family shit with her!
Next to her, Wyatt shifted. “Mr. Cooper, Adeline only just arrived in town and already there’s been some trouble.”
Cyrus stared at Adeline, didn’t bother so much as flicking a glance at the sheriff. “I can’t imagine you were surprised by that reaction, Addy. You left a bad taste in a lot of folks’ mouths nine years ago.”
She had hoped he would say something like that. Scarcely able to keep the smirk off her lips, she turned to Wyatt. “We need a minute alone.”
He was shaking his head firmly from side to side before she’d finished making the statement. “It’s my job to keep the peace in this county. I’m not about to step out of this room and have you two go at it.”
“No need to be concerned, Sheriff.” Cyrus held up both hands. “I’m unarmed. You may check beneath my blanket if you feel the inclination. Addy is my niece. I’m certainly not afraid of being alone with her.”
“One minute,” Adeline snapped. That the old bastard referred to her as his niece made her want to kick something. “Just step out into the hall, Wyatt.” She lowered her voice to a fierce whisper. “One damned minute, that’s all I’m asking for.”
Hands on hips, Wyatt held his ground several seconds—just long enough to piss her off even more. Then he turned and walked out of the room.
When the doors had closed, Adeline settled the full weight of nine fucking years of fury on Cyrus Cooper. “Now you listen to me, old man. A woman is missing, most likely dead. I’m here to help determine what happened to her and I’m not going anywhere until I know all the facts. So you call off your dogs until this is done and we won’t have a problem.”
Those squinty eyes held hers. A few years ago he would have gone toe to toe with her even if only by means of the crutches. But no more. The idea that he was so helpless gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling all over again.
The seemingly patient and kind expression he’d worn for the sheriff vanished. A long-simmering bitterness tightened his features. “You’re still as full of piss and vine gar as ever, aren’t you, girl? Still flaunting that self-righteous attitude your daddy took to his grave.”
The comment about her father obliterated the glee she’d momentarily experienced. Hatred charged through her. “Did you hear what I said?” Adeline stepped closer, glared down at him with all the loathing that writhed inside her. “I’m sorry as hell Gage is dead, but I didn’t kill him. Your son killed himself by being involved with drug smugglers. So if you’re still holding that against me, it’s time you got over it.”
“You’re my baby brother’s only child.” Cyrus lifted his saggy chin and studied her, the bitterness abruptly replaced by something akin to sentimentality. “He and your mother loved you more than life itself. That’s the reason you didn’t die when my Gage did. The only reason.”
“I didn’t die,” she countered, “because I was on the right side of the law.”
“This thing that happened,” Cyrus confessed, the ferocity going out of his voice and his expression with the same abruptness as the bitterness, “was a long time ago.” He braced his elbows on the padded metal chair arms and steepled his fingers. “At the time, I asked you to leave Mississippi and never come back. As long as you didn’t, I promised not to seek my vengeance for what you did to my son.”
Whatever else she said on the subject would be a waste of time and energy. “Do you have a point?”
“My point is,” he offered, “things have changed. I no longer have any interest in seeking revenge.”
“Then why the hell were my tires slashed?”
“I can’t control what others do,” Cyrus explained wearily. “There are a lot of folks around here who are still deeply grieved by what you did to Gage and to Sheriff Grider.”
“Grider was a piece of shit who sold out his office to help the people your son was working with. People you were working with.”
“I won’t argue about the past with you, Addy. I’m dying.”
The word rang in the silence that followed.
Why the hell hadn’t her mother told her about this? Adeline gritted her teeth against the slim thread of emotion she shouldn’t have felt. This bastard didn’t deserve her sympathy. “If you’re expecting me to say I’m sorry,” she offered, “that’s not gonna happen.”
“I don’t expect you to feel remorse for my situation.”
That was good, because she sure as hell didn’t.
“I have cancer. They say I have eight months tops. Life looks very different when you’re viewing it from this angle.”
Whatever. “Are you going to tell your people to leave me be?”
“I’ll tell them,” Cyrus granted, “but I’m doubtful that it will carry much weight. Since my cancer was diagnosed, Clay does what he pleases with or without my blessing.”
Clay, the dickhead, was Gage’s younger brother. He was probably the one who did that shit to her Bronco. “Maybe you’ve got everyone else around here believing you’re no longer in charge, but I know better. Clay does exactly what you tell him, just as his brother did.”
“Things really have changed, Addy.” Cyrus held her gaze, probably selfishly searching for some glimmer of the sympathy he claimed he didn’t want. “More than you know.”
“Did you send me the photo?”
The old bastard frowned. “What photo?”
“Did you cut and paste words onto a page and send it to me?”
He shook his head. The confusion was seemingly genuine. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then that puts you in the same boat as everyone else around here. Nobody knows shit. I’m here to see that the job gets done right since it involves me somehow. So keep your dogs off my back.” That was all Adeline had to say.
She headed for the double doors. She’d spent as much time breathing the same air space as this creepy old bastard as she intended to.
“Was Ms. Prescott blond?”
Adeline hesitated. What the hell kind of question was that? “You don’t read the paper or watch the news?”
“Not anymore. My vision’s too poor since having the chemotherapy treatments. On Sundays Everett reads the paper to me. Keeps me abreast of the important headlines as they appear.”
“Then why don’t you ask him?”
“I’m asking you.”
Adeline turned to face Cyrus. He really did look old and frail. Nothing like the powerful son of a bitch he used to be. She was glad. She hoped he withered up completely before that black heart ceased to beat. “Yes, Cherry Prescott has blond hair.” It wasn’t lost on her that he asked the question in the past tense. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious. That’s all.”
Bullshit. “Stay out of my way, Cyrus, and I’ll be out of your territory before you know it.”
She glided the doors open, pushing the heavy slabs into their wall pockets. Wyatt stepped aside as she burst into the hall.
He followed her out the front door and down the steps without saying a word. Was he going to do this the whole time she was here? She wanted to turn around and tell him to back off. But she didn’t. Instead, she climbed into the SUV and let her fury recede enough to regain her composure.
“Why did he ask you if Prescott was blond?”
“I don’t know. Maybe to freak me out. He’s an asshole like that.”
“I called Tony Laughlin. He’ll take care of replacing your tires.” Wyatt glanced at her as he guided his SUV down the long gravel drive. “The county will pay for the damages.”
“I have insurance.” Adeline pulled her seat belt into place. “You don’t need to do me any favors.”
He didn’t respond for a moment, just drove. Finally he spilled what was on his mind. “So this is the way it’s going to be.”
What did he expect? “I’m here for the inve
stigation, Wyatt, not to mend fences.” She stared out into the darkness. She didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to hear his voice, especially not in the dark. After nine years that shouldn’t have bothered her, but it did. It bothered her a lot. The sooner she was at the motel and away from him the happier she would be.
The five miles back into town were driven in total silence. There was nothing else to say. Even now, after all this time, she understood what Wyatt wanted. He wanted forgiveness. For the first year after she’d left, he had tried to make things right. But he didn’t understand. There was no way to make what happened right. Nothing he could say or do would change the choice he had made.
Any more than it could the choice she had made.
She didn’t belong here. Whatever they’d once shared had died as surely as Gage Cooper had that day nine years, three months, and four days ago.
A final turn off Delmas Avenue and they were at their destination. An antiquated neon sign proclaiming the establishment as the Shady Oaks Motel stood proudly in a seriously neglected lake of cracked and faded asphalt. The rundown row of rooms was dark, but a dim glow beamed from the office window. Hourly rates were written by hand and posted beneath the window. Not exactly a welcoming sight. The Chevy pickup parked in the lot likely belonged to the manager.
Trees, naked for the winter, towered behind the rooms, but there wasn’t a shrub or sprig of grass in front. Just the disintegrating asphalt and a narrow band of sidewalk lining the row of equally decrepit rooms.
Definitely worse than she remembered.
“This is a bad idea.” Wyatt shoved the gearshift into park and shut off the engine. “Anyone who drives through will see your Bronco in the lot while you’re here. It’s not like you can miss it.”
“I’ll be fine.” She hopped out, opened the back passenger door and reached for her bag. “You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”