Hot Southern Nights

by Gen Griffin

  Trish hesitated and then slid into the center of the bench seat. “Why do I not like the sound of this?”

  “Because I'm about to tell you that when I came by here looking for you earlier, Grover and I had a nice little chat. It didn't end real well.”

  “Oh God. Did he shoot at you?” Trish was more than slightly horrified by the thought.

  David actually laughed. “Grover's not stupid enough to shoot at me.”

  “Then what-?”

  “He tried to give me your grandmother's wedding ring to give to you,” David told her. He put both his hands on the steering wheel of the truck and clenched it tightly.

  “Oh. Well. That's actually kind of sweet,” Trish said. She didn't understand why David would be upset because Grover tried to pass down a family heirloom.

  “No. It wasn't. He tried to give me a stolen ring,” David said.

  “What?” Trish stared at him in total shock. “You can't be serious?”

  “He handed me a pink diamond ring. I asked him if it was real. His reply was that my father served six years in prison for the heist.”

  “Oh my God. David-.”

  He waved for her to be quiet. “My father robbed quite a few jewelry stores, Trish. My father robbed quite a few stores period. I'm pretty sure Grover helped with most of those robberies. Your grandfather used to be my Dad's getaway driver.”

  “I'm guessing you didn't call the cops on him,” Trish said after a long pause. “Or are you going to?”

  “I'm not calling the cops. Most of those old crimes are well past the statute of limitations at this point.” David sighed and leaned back against the seat of the truck. “Grover tried to tell me that his stolen ring was our legacy. I told him he was full of shit.”

  “You didn't take the ring?” Trish was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

  “Hell no. I'm not proposing to you with a hand-me-down stolen ring,” David said.

  “I appreciate that,” Trish replied.

  “I just wanted you to know.”

  “You wanted me to know that he offered you stolen jewelry or that you turned it down?” Trish wanted to clarify.

  “Both, I guess.” David shrugged helplessly. “I don't know. I just don't want any secrets between us.”

  “I'm not keeping any,” Trish said with a small smile. “I don't have any secrets. There are some things I prefer not be public knowledge, like the part where my ex-husband cheated on me, gave me something I needed antibiotics to get rid of and then tried to murder me, but somehow you managed to get all that information out of me already.”

  “You trust me,” he said.

  “I guess I do.” Trish realized the truth even as she said the words. She held her hand out to David. After a minute, he took it. He squeezed her fingers tightly in his.

  “I have secrets,” David told her softly. “Some of those secrets, the worst of those secrets, aren't mine to tell.”

  “Are you talking about the dead body the firefighters found today?” Trish asked.

  “No. Well, maybe yes. I don't know. I didn't know there was dead body under that house. Though, according to Grover, I shouldn't worry too much about her because she was buried there when I was just a kid.”

  “Oh my god,” Trish whispered. “Grover knows whose body they found?”

  “He says he does. He also says he won't tell me. He says I'm too much like Pappy and that he can't trust me.” David closed his eyes and then reopened them. He stared into Trish's face with a haunted expression. “You have no idea how fucking tired of secrets I am.”

  “David-.” Trish reached for him but he shook his head and pulled back.

  “I don't want to spend half my life worrying if you'll find out about something I didn't want you to know.”

  “Okay.”

  David swallowed visibly and then took a deep breath. “Which means that you and I need to talk about what happened to Casey. You're going to hear rumors, Trish. A lot of those rumors say that I'm a murderer.”

  “I don't believe you're a murderer,” Trish told him.

  “Good, because I'm not.”

  “But?” Trish pressed him.

  He frowned at her. “You think there's a 'but'?”

  “I already know about the rumors and about Kerry's psychotic grudge against you. You wouldn't be keeping me awake for a middle of the night heart-to-heart in Addison's truck if there weren't something more you felt the need to tell me.” Trish smiled tiredly at him.

  “You're right.” David spoke so quietly she could barely hear him. “I didn't kill Casey, but I do know what happened to her.”

  Trish's lips parted slightly and then she realized she wasn't entirely surprised by this realization. “I wondered.”

  “You did?” David looked startled.

  “Your friends deny your involvement a little too heavily,” Trish told him. “And Addison's not good at being evasive. I tried to talk him about it and I could tell something was up.”

  “Neither he or Gracie can lie worth a shit,” David acknowledged.

  “Tell me about Casey,” Trish said. She squeezed his fingers gently in her own.

  “Not really that much to tell,” David replied after a minute. “Casey's death was a stupid accident. No one was trying to hurt her. No one even knew we had hurt her until it was too damn late. Truth of the matter is that we were so drunk and stuck on ourselves that we never even noticed her until after she was dead.”

  “I thought you said you didn't kill her?” Trish pressed him because she had to know the truth of what she was getting into with him.

  “I didn't.” His expression was cold but the pain in his green eyes was incredibly, chillingly real.

  “You know who did.” It wasn't a question.

  “Technically, yeah. I guess. If you want to pin responsibility for a freak accident on one person then yes, I know who would take the bulk of the blame.”

  “It's not you.”

  “No, it's not.” David admitted. He was biting his lip so hard that Trish wouldn't have been surprised to see blood. “But I intentionally let everyone think that I'm to blame.”

  “Why would you want everyone in Possum Creek think you’re a murderer if you’re not?”

  “It's complicated,” he said with a small sigh.

  “Try me.”

  “Fine. This may sound crazy, but I let everyone in this town think I’m a murderer because they’ll never ask too many questions so long as they think they know what happened.”

  “What?” Trish blinked at him.

  “Everyone in town thinks I raped Casey and then killed her. It’s a simple, straightforward story. Most of the people who hear it are willing to accept it as the truth, even though there isn’t a shred of evidence behind it.” David looked vaguely nauseous as he spoke.

  “You don’t want anyone investigating what really happened.” Trish was starting to understand where this was going. “You’d rather just take the blame.”

  “Exactly,” David confirmed.

  “You’re protecting someone.” Trish barely realized what she’d said until she heard the words come out of her own mouth.

  “You’re right,” David agreed.

  “Why?” Trish asked. “You said her death was an accident.”

  “I said it was an accident. I didn’t say we were innocent. We were young and fucking stupid. A 13 year old girl died because we were teenage idiots who made bad choices. I can’t tell you any more, Trish. It’s not my story and I’m not the one who’s going to hang if the truth ever comes out.” He shuddered. The guilt in his eyes was almost suffocating. Trish wondered how he managed to breathe with that kind of pain hidden so close to the surface. “I’ve replayed that afternoon a thousand times in my own head. If I had been sober, maybe I would have noticed her sooner. If I had been paying attention to anything other than feeling fucking sorry for myself, maybe I would have done something differently. I don’t know.”

  “You didn’t kill her.” Trish was
sure now.

  “I might as well have.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “No. I guess I didn't.” David closed his eyes and then reopened them. “I want you to stay with me but you shouldn’t feel obligated. You haven’t known me for an entire week yet. The rumors are about to start back up and, with Kerry around, things are probably about to go to all kinds of hell. Standing by my side isn’t going to be very pleasant right now, Trish. It’s not a good time to be my friend, let alone my girl.”

  Trish sat silently in the driver's seat and thought about the confession he'd just made. After several long minutes, she held her hand out to him. David stared down at her fingers for a long minute before he reached his own down to intertwine them.

  “I want to be with you,” Trish told him.

  David blinked at her in obvious surprise. He looked up at her with a shockingly hopeful expression in his bright green eyes. “You can’t be sure?”

  “I trust you,” Trish said softly. “I’ve known you for two days and if there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, it’s that you never, ever put yourself or your own best interests first. You let your house burn to the ground because the fire trucks had somewhere better to be. You turned down an expensive piece of land that you wanted because you felt taking it would be unfair to Cal. You’re beyond loyal to a fault. I would have been stunned if you’d told me that you had killed Casey. I’m not stunned to find out you’re willing to take the blame in order to protect someone else.”

  “You’re really willing to stay with me?” He asked as if he had to hear the words again before he could believe they were true.

  “I want to stay with you. Your friends aren’t going to abandon you either. It doesn’t matter what kind of rumors are floating around,” Trish reminded him. “Cal and Addison are loyal to you. They’d never walk away from you when you need them to stand up for you.”

  David let out a soft snort. “Of course they won’t. Cal and Addy are just as fucking guilty as I am.”

  “What?” Trish knew her surprise was showing on her face.

  “Cal and Addison aren’t innocent. They were there when Casey died too,” David explained.

  Trish had to mull that thought over for several minutes. “Why are you the one taking the blame?” She asked after a long minute.

  David stunned her by smiling. It was a bitter, almost angry smile. “Wrong last name.”

  “What?”

  “Cal’s Daddy is the Mayor. Addison’s uncle is the Sheriff. My Dad was a career felon with a reputation for boosting cars. Who do you think is going to catch the blame first?”

  “They let you take the blame for Casey’s death?” Trish suddenly felt a whole lot less fondly about his best friends.

  “No.” David seemed to read her mind. He shook his head at her. “We didn’t realize anyone would be taking the blame. We had no fucking idea it would come back around to me. That was just crappy luck. When we realized what people were thinking, Cal offered to try to shift the blame off of me and onto himself. I wouldn’t let him.”

  “Why?” Trish couldn’t help asking.

  “I figured we’d attract more attention by trying to shift the blame than I would by ignoring it. I was born with a bad reputation in this town. I told him we’d let it blow over. I’d wait it out.”

  “It never blew over,” Trish said.

  “Actually, it did. I hadn’t thought about Casey’s death outside a nightmare in a good 3 years before Kerry came back to Possum Creek. He’s the one who got all the old rumors stirred back up. He’s the one who accuses me of every crime that’s committed within a 40 mile radius.”

  “Kerry should lose his badge,” Trish said softly. “His behavior classifies as harassment.”

  “I know it,” David agreed. “I’d love to see him lose his badge. It would make my whole year.”

  “File a complaint against him,” Trish suggested.

  “I have. Several. Frank says I need a lawyer if I want to make my complaints stick. I don’t have the time or the money for that kind of hassle.”

  “I might be able to help you with that,” Trish said gently.

  “Don't worry about it,” David told her. “Kerry won't ever have enough evidence to convict me for anything. Mostly because the evidence didn't exist in the first place.”

  “I believe you,” Trish said.

  “I can't believe you don't hate me,” David replied.

  “Why would I hate you?” She asked. “You're a good guy, David. Probably the best guy I've ever met. Don't get me wrong, I'm not thrilled that you know what happened to that missing girl and won't tell the cops, but I don't guess its any worse than the fact that my grandfather tried to give you a stolen heirloom ring to propose to me with.”

  “Those two crimes aren't on the same level.”

  “You also mentioned that he said he knew who was buried under your house,” Trish pointed out.

  “He says he does.”

  “You realize that probably makes him more of a murderer than you are?” Trish asked.

  “I hadn't thought about it that way,” David admitted reluctantly. “I'm still kind of stuck on the part where you're not running away screaming.”

  “Thank you for being honest with me,” Trish said. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his in a gentle kiss. He hesitated for a split second and then kissed her back. “You know, I'm starting to think I might actually love you.”

  “I do love you,” David told her.

  “I know.” Trish closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his chest. “It's too late to be having this conversation. Let's just go inside and go to bed.”

  “I'm stuck with Addison's couch,” he reminded her.

  “I have a bed. It's big enough for both of us. Just as long as you don't steal all the covers.” She offered him a small smile.

  “You can have all the covers,” David promised her. “But what about Grover?”

  “I figure you can hold your own,” Trish said.

  David thought about it for a moment and then laughed. “You're right. I can hold my own.”

  “Good. Now let's go to bed.”

  “Lead the way,” he told her as they got out of the truck and headed into the house.

  Chapter 38

  “You know you don't have to let me stay if you're not comfortable with it,” David said as Trish stood somewhat awkwardly in front of her dresser and tried to figure out which of her pajamas would be the most appropriate for spending the night sleeping in the same bed with the most attractive man she'd ever called her own.

  “I want you to stay,” Trish told him. “I just can't decide between being sexy or being comfortable.”

  “Be normal?” David suggested.

  “I normally sleep naked,” Trish informed him.

  David's eyebrows shot up with surprise. He hesitated and then gave her a slow, sexy smile. “I wouldn't complain.”

  “What are you sleeping in?” Trish asked him, trying to ignore the blush that was starting to seem semi-permanent whenever he was around.

  “I grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms out of Addy's dresser when I was getting my clothes for work,” David said. He held up the clothes he'd been carrying. The pajama bottoms had red and white candy cane stripes. “Tacky, huh?”

  Trish laughed. “Not what I would have picked for you.”

  “Yeah well, just because I can wear Addison's clothes doesn't mean I want to.” David shrugged as he set the clothes down on the top of the dresser. “He's such a pretty boy.”

  “All your clothes burned with your house, didn't they?” Trish asked.

  “Everything I owned burned with the house. Remind me to go shopping tomorrow.”

  “I am so sorry,” Trish reached for him.

  David wrapped his arms around her waist. His dark eyes were tired and he had blue-black circles underneath them. “Don't be. Everything happens for a reason.”

  “You're going to have to repl
ace all your things,” Trish pointed out.

  “You would have wanted to replace all my things anyway,” David informed her with a sideways smirk. “Momma has been threatening to burn the trailer down herself for years, just so she'd have an excuse to buy me all new furniture.”

  “Was your old furniture that bad?”

  “Yes,” David admitted. “And most of my clothes had holes in them because I'm not real good at distinguishing between dress clothes and work clothes. It's probably for the best that my house burned down and took all my crap with it. I'm kinda bummed about my guns, but insurance should pay out more than enough to replace them.”

  “You had homeowners insurance on that trailer?” Trish didn't even try to hide her surprise.

  “It was a package deal with the insurance I carry on my shop. I didn't really want it but it was actually cheaper to insure both properties together. Turns out the insurance guy was right about it not being a bad idea. The $25,000 that place was insured for will be more than enough to get started building a new house.”

  “A new house on the property next to Cal's house?” Trish recalled the earlier conversation between David and Cal's grandfather.

  “Pretty sure we won't find any stray corpses buried on it,” David mused idly. He looked away from Trish. “I still can't believe my father and Grover buried someone underneath my fucking house and never bothered telling me.”

  “I can't believe Grover won't tell you who she was,” Trish said. “I'm kind of afraid to search this house now. God only knows what we'll find.”

  David shuddered visibly. He closed his eyes. “We need to search this house, but not tonight. I'm fucking exhausted.”

  “Me too.” Trish snuggled into his shoulder, still not sure why it felt so right to be with him. “Let's just go to bed.”

  “I'm already in bed,” David pointed out. He laid back against the lumpy old mattress. Trish, still wrapped snugly in his arms, was pulled back down onto the bed with him.

  “The light is still on.” Trish gestured at the ceiling fan. “And you didn't let me put on my pajamas.”