"You want the truth!" She looked around the room at the faces all turned to her. "He loves Lee. He has forever. He came here because he loved her, and he killed Kemper because he was in the way."
"You're pathetic," Bud said, walking away.
Carol Beth grabbed a champagne flute from a passing waiter and threw it at Bud's back. The glass struck him between the shoulders, splashing champagne on several bystanders. Striking the floor, the glass shattered. Bud never turned around. He walked out the patio door and into the darkness.
Coleman's hand captured my shoulder. "We have to go," he said.
I looked around. The party was in full swing. "Why?"
He took my arm, a steady hand that I didn't fully appreciate until he spoke. "Mrs. Winslow called. Kip is missing. She took their car and disappeared."
19
The moon had risen, full and pale in the eastern sky. We drove toward it in silence. Coleman turned south toward Zinnia.
"Did Mrs. Winslow say anything else?" I asked Coleman, hoping for some word that would stop the painful thudding of my heart. Kip had more on her than any kid should face.
"Nothing useful. Kip talked with someone on the phone. Amy didn't know who it was. A little later, Kip said she was going to take Sweetie Pie for a walk. No one thought anything for at least an hour. Then when they started looking for her, she was gone, along with the car. Why would she run?" Coleman countered, and I was reminded that I hadn't been truthful with him.
I knew full well why she might run—bad checks and a blackout, just for starters. I was terrified for her. For what she might do and what she might have done. My decision not to be honest with Coleman was haunting me far worse than Jitty ever had.
Coleman reached across the bench seat of the patrol car and put a hand on my thigh. Through the thin material of my dress, I could feel the calluses at the base of each finger. "Maybe she's just out for a lark. You know how teenagers can be."
"Kip isn't a normal teenager. Her mother's charged with killing her father."
"Point taken," he said. Instead of driving to the courthouse, he headed out toward Dahlia House. "Maybe she left you a note or something," he said by way of explanation.
"Or maybe you think you're going to leave me behind," I said.
He took a long breath. "That might be for the best, Sarah Booth. Consider that."
"We'll check Dahlia House and then I'll decide."
We pulled to the front of my home and both rushed up the steps and inside. The foyer was empty of clues, and I asked Coleman to search Kip's room while I went to the kitchen. The thump, thump, thump of Sweetie's tail against the floor told me Kip had been there. She'd brought the dog home from the Winslows', which probably meant she wasn't planning on returning anytime soon.
"Sweetie," I said. Bending down to pet the hound, I saw the pale paper attached to the dog's collar. Snatching it off, I tore it open and unfolded the single sheet of lavender-scented stationery that so bespoke youth and innocence. I began to read with great trepidation.
"Sarah Booth, Mother didn't kill Kemper. I did it. She's been trying to take the blame for me, but she can't protect me any longer. I did what I had to do, and now I'm going to finish it. Kip."
The note fluttered out of my numb fingers and landed on the floor. Sweetie Pie nailed it with one paw, her tail working overtime. I picked it up and read it again.
Kip had confessed. There it was in black and lavender. No explanations, no reasons. No room for doubt. A confession as brutal as her mother's, but with less detail.
"No sign of her upstairs." Coleman stopped just inside the kitchen. His gaze took in the note in my hand. "Where is she?"
"She confessed to killing Kemper." I handed him the note, surprised that my hand wasn't shaking.
"Damn it all to hell," he said softly as he read. "Where would she go?"
I shook my head. "Lee might know."
There wasn't time for a change of clothes—or even to grab something. Coleman and I, with Sweetie hot on our heels, dashed back down the steps and into the patrol car. Coleman didn't object when I opened the back door for Sweetie to ride with us. If it came to it, Sweetie might be helpful in tracking Kip.
Coleman picked up the radio. Deputy Walters's voice crackled in answer from the courthouse.
"Kip Fuquar has run away," Coleman said. "She's in a 1998 Volvo sedan, blue, belonging to Mark Winslow. You've got the tag number. Put out an APB and alert the authorities in the surrounding counties."
Siren wailing, we flew across the black Delta night.
"Do you have any idea where she might have gone?" he asked.
Like it or not, I did. "The Holiday Breeze," I said. His reaction was exactly what I expected.
"Why would she go there?"
"Harold stopped by this afternoon to tell me that Kip had written a check on Lee's account. She forged her mother's signature, but the bank caught it. I suspect Kip may have been trying to pay Tony LaCoco the debt Kemper owed him. She was trying to save Swift Level."
Coleman didn't say a word or utter an accusation. His silence was worse than anything he might have said.
That compelled me to keep talking. "Harold wouldn't tell me who the check was written to. I'm just guessing about this. And don't blame Harold. He was going to talk to you about it."
"It might have been helpful if he'd told me sooner."
Coleman was angry, and I didn't blame him. There were other things I needed to tell him, too. "Coleman, I—"
"If she is with LaCoco, she could be in real danger," Coleman interrupted. "He's been hanging around town, waiting to see how Kemper's will would fall. The best thing about Lee remaining in jail is that there's been no pressure for disposition of Kemper's will. Now Kip may have walked into real trouble."
My chest ached with worry and dread. I'd lost all sense of time and place, and looked out at the vista of field and darkness. The road seemed to have stretched into an endless journey. "How much further?" I asked. Sweetie harmonized a low whine in the backseat.
"Not far. Hang on and keep your fingers crossed."
True to his word, Coleman pulled into the Holiday Breeze in less than five minutes. The big black Town Car was still parked in front of room 10, but all the other vehicles were gone. There was no sign of a blue Volvo.
We got out of the car, and I let Sweetie out of the back. She rushed past us and went straight to the door of room 10. Barking twice, she hurled herself at the cheap wood.
One of the bodyguards opened it up. His hand was inside his coat, obviously on a gun. When he saw Coleman he didn't move. He remained blocking the doorway while he called back inside the room. "Mr. LaCoco, the sheriff and his date are here to see you."
"Let 'em in."
As soon as the bodyguard stepped aside, Sweetie rushed in. Coleman was right behind her, and I was on his heels.
Fully dressed in a dark suit, Tony LaCoco reclined on the bed. Glancing around the room, I noted the absence of the second bodyguard.
"What brings you to the Holiday Breeze?" LaCoco asked Coleman. His gaze swept over Coleman and then me. "You're a little overdressed, I'd say."
"Where's Kip?" Coleman asked.
"Interesting kid. She has a lot of. . . heart." The pause was deliberate, a cat tormenting its prey.
"Where is she?" Coleman asked. He was very, very calm. That made me very, very nervous. Coleman was extremely controlled, but the antithesis of such control is lack of it. I had no doubt that if he ever let his temper go, Coleman could make Tony LaCoco regret the day he was born.
"She was here. She made me an offer I could refuse." LaCoco laughed, and his bodyguard laughed with him. "Very cute kid."
"Where did she go?" Coleman asked.
LaCoco shrugged. "She was upset when she left. I had to explain to her that debts have to be paid. Since there's some question whether Kemper's insurance policy will be paid off because of the circumstances of his death, there will have to be another means of payment. And not another ch
eck that bounces. I had to explain that my clients who try stunts like that end up shopping for prosthetics."
"She's a kid," Coleman reminded him.
"A kid who inherits, from what I can find out." LaCoco made a face. "I tried to help her. I suggested that perhaps she should consider finding a way to come up with some cash before something happens to that horse she's so fond of." He grinned. "Blame it on the movies. That's where guys like me get all of our best ideas."
Coleman's fists were clenched, and I put a tentative hand on his arm. The muscle beneath my fingers was rigid.
"You're a real tough guy, LaCoco. Frightening teenage girls, threatening children. You'd better hope that Kip is okay. If something happens to her, it's going to be a very personal issue."
The bodyguard took a step closer to Coleman. LaCoco shook his head. "The girl came here of her own choice. As you can plainly see, she isn't here now. She left. What she does next is no concern of mine. Now take that ugly dog and get out of here."
Sweetie Pie had come to stand by my leg; I laced my fingers through her collar.
"LaCoco, if Kip is harmed in any way, I'll spend the rest of my career finding the dirt that puts you away." Coleman took my elbow and walked me out into the night. As soon as we were out of the room, Sweetie tugged away from me. Nose to the ground, she began sniffing the parking lot.
I was trembling when we stopped beside the car. Beneath the starry sky, Sweetie circled the lot, returning repeatedly to one spot where Kip must have parked the stolen Volvo.
"Was he actually threatening to kill Avenger if Kip didn't come up with the money?" I asked.
"That's exactly what he was doing."
"Kip must be terrified." Her note kept running through my mind like a ticker tape. I'm going to finish it. "I'm afraid she's going to do something foolish," I said. "She hates Carol Beth."
"Get the dog and let's go," Coleman said brusquely.
Another time, under different circumstances, I would have flatly refused such a high-handed request. This was not another time. I fell into step beside Coleman like a well-trained DG. "Where are we going?"
"Back to Swift Level. My gut tells me that's where Kip would head. She'll go to protect that horse. If I can find her, get her to talk to me, maybe we can resolve this case once and for all." He seated me and got behind the wheel.
Slinging gravel, we went roaring off. No subject seemed adequate, so the silence between us grew as the miles rolled under the wheels. I kept glancing at Coleman, but his focus was on the road and his thoughts somewhere far away. We were only a couple of miles from Swift Level when the radio squawked again. Far, far away came the sound of a siren. I gritted my teeth. Perhaps Kip had already been run to ground.
"Coleman, here." The radio was swallowed by Coleman's hand.
"Better head on over to Swift Level," Gordon said.
"I'm on the way. They found her?"
"Nope. There's a fire. From what I can tell, the stud barn is burning."
Coleman swerved abruptly, dodging an armadillo. With practiced skill he corrected the car. "Is the fire department on the way?"
"Both of the city trucks." Gordon's voice seemed to come from a long way away.
"What about Mount Tildon and Blue Eve? Did they send a truck?"
"Both volunteer units are en route," Gordon said. "Full teams responding. I hear it's a disaster out there. Lots of confusion. Bud Lynch has disappeared and there's a chance he might be trapped in the barn."
"I'm on the way." Coleman replaced the radio and stepped hard on the gas. The big V-8 in the patrol car responded with a forward surge. I'd only thought we were going fast before.
"LaCoco's other bodyguard was missing." I didn't have to spell it out for Coleman.
"I noticed," he said, intent on the road.
"What about the horses?" I asked. Movie images of flames and screaming animals tore through my head. "Avenger." I whispered his name.
The sound of the sirens grew louder, and in the distance I could see the orange glow of the fire. It was the stallion barn, the place where Avenger lived and where Kemper died. Set against the starry night, the fire gave me the sensation that hell was waging direct war with heaven. The faster Coleman drove, the more I wanted him to slow down. I didn't want to confront this tragedy. In the back of my head, a mantra was spinning—the horses are safe; Bud is alive. I repeated it over and over.
We turned down the drive in front of one of the fire trucks, but we didn't slow at all. Coleman drove like a demon. In the headlights of the car we saw elegantly clad women and men, shoulder to shoulder, working a bucket brigade. The arrival of the fire truck was greeted with a hail of cheers, but even I could see that the stallion barn was a total loss. The roof was collapsing, falling away from the main timbers in huge sheets that burned hotly in the black night.
So far, the fire had not spread to the other buildings, but men and women were evacuating horses from the other barns, moving them to pastures where they bolted and ran to safety.
I got out of the car and ran toward the front of the line. To my surprise Carol Beth was closest to the fire, her beautiful gown ripped and torn. She stumbled toward the blaze with a bucket of water, flinging it, then turned back for another.
I felt something brush my leg and watched in horror as Sweetie Pie made a dash for the blazing barn. I started after her, knowing I would be too late. Harold rushed out of the shadows and grabbed her by the collar.
She tried to break free of him, and when she realized he was not going to let her go, she lifted her head and howled. It was a sound unlike any she'd ever made. It echoed over the night.
"I'll put her back in the patrol car," Harold said, dragging Sweetie past me and Carol Beth.
"Did they get Avenger out?" I asked her.
"I don't know." She rubbed her eyes on her forearm, smearing soot and makeup. "Bud went in to get him, but he hasn't come out." She spoke the words as if the events had happened a hundred years before. "That kid, too. She was standing in the doorway."
Dread is the most peculiar of sensations. It moved from my ankles up my legs with icy fingers, freezing me even as I stood in the intense heat of the burning barn. "The kid?"
"Yeah. Lee's kid."
"Kip?"
Carol Beth nodded. "She just stood in the doorway with the flames behind her. We were all running down here, but we were too far away to do anything. I called out to her. She turned and walked into the fire, like she didn't feel any of it. Like she was already dead. That's when Bud ran into the barn."
Another section of barn roof collapsed, sending a shower of sparks in a spiral that was as deadly as it was beautiful.
I grabbed Carol Beth's shoulders and shook her, forcing her to look at me. "Are you sure it was Kip?" Maybe there was a mistake.
"It was her." Carol Beth twisted free of me. "It was her, all right."
"How did the fire start?" I asked.
"The sprinkler system was turned off. Some bastard did this deliberately," she said. "May his soul burn in hell for all eternity." A broken sob escaped her.
I felt a hand on my arm, and Lillian pulled me out of the way as another fire truck arrived.
"What happened?" I asked her.
"I was outside on the patio. I saw the fire." She turned to look at the flames. "I told Bud, and he ran down here while I called the fire department. Everyone came down to help, but it was too late. The whole barn was engulfed. I'm afraid they're dead."
20
Lillian was still standing beside me when Krystal walked up. Her dress and makeup remained perfect, but her eyes were glazed from what could have been alcohol or shock.
"I can't find Mike," she said in a flat tone. "I've hunted and hunted." She looked beyond me at the barn. "Where in the hell is he?"
"I haven't seen him all evening," Lillian said. "I'm sure he's around somewhere, though."
The fire trucks were bringing the flames under control, but there wasn't going to be much of anything left standin
g, except the huge support beams.
"Krystal!" Mike came out of the darkness, his white shirt stained with black soot and his eyes and hair wild. He put his arm around his wife. "I was worried sick. I looked for you everywhere."
"Where've you been?" she asked him in a sharp, accusing tone.
Mike's arm tightened around his wife. "Hey, it's okay. I'm fine." He kissed her cheek and whispered something in her ear as his arm tightened around her.
"Bud Lynch is in that barn," Krystal said, shrugging away from him.
Mike made a sound of disbelief. "I heard. Can you imagine that stupid bastard running into a burning barn to save a horse? To save a horse! The damn thing was insured."
Krystal stepped away from him. "You can be such an ass," she said, stalking away.
Mike looked at us and shrugged. "Temperamental artist." He went after her.
I felt as if I were swimming deep beneath the ocean. The fire was a roar in my head, a primal sound like surf. The people around me moved in slow motion. I heard and saw everything, but it was as if some layer of clear, pure water surrounded me, protecting me from the nightmare of the burning barn.
I listened for the sounds of dying horses and heard nothing, thank God. I also listened for the cries of a teenager and the shouts of a grown man. Nothing. The fire had worked its destruction, and all that remained was the charring of the bones.
Another volunteer fire truck arrived. The worst was over. The worst of the flames, that is.
It would be many hours before investigators could begin to sort through the ashes to recover those who'd perished. My God, who was going to tell Lee? She'd lost everything of any value to her.
I walked over to an old oak shrouded in darkness so thick that the flames didn't penetrate it. I needed something to lean against, something solid and permanent to shelter under. The party-goers slowly began to leave. With the flames dying, there was nothing else for them to do.
Carol Beth lingered, her stance somehow defiant and defeated as she stared at the smoldering timbers. At last, Harold appeared at her side and led her away. He was disheveled and filthy, too.
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