by Jennie Marts
“Well, what?” Sheriff Johnson asked, his eyes looking everywhere but at Cherry’s chest.
A smile tugged at the corner of Charlie’s mouth, and her respect for him went up a notch for at least making the effort. And she could tell it was an extreme effort. “What did you find out?”
“It says the same thing it said a few months ago. I typed up this report myself. I’m awful sorry about Gigi and all, but I just don’t see anything that suggests foul play.”
Her shoulders slumped in defeat. Another dead end. But she forgot who her partner in detection was.
Cherry held out her hand for the file. “Let me see that.”
“Cherry, you know that’s against the rules. That’s a confidential file. I can’t just hand it over and let you look at it.” The Sheriff narrowed his eyes, and a shock of dark blond hair fell across his forehead, suggesting he was a few weeks overdue for a haircut.
“Taylor Johnson,” Cherry said, with enough authority that she might as well be wearing a badge herself. “I have known you since we were fourteen years old. I know both your momma and your grandmother. And I have seen you naked. Hand me the file.”
The tall Sheriff shook his head in resignation, then handed the folder to her. He shrugged at Charlie. “What can I say? We went to prom together. And it’s true, she does know my grandma.”
Small towns. She grinned, then leaned her head toward her friend’s, trying to decipher the report stapled inside. Cherry ran her fingernail along the words, pausing at a set of numbers. “Look at this, Tay. This says Gigi’s blood alcohol level was .18.”
“Is that high?” Charlie looked to the lawman for confirmation.
“Darn-tootin’ it’s high. The legal limit to drive is .08. This report says Gigi was snockered when she fell down the stairs.” Cherry waved the folder at Taylor. “How could you miss this?”
The sheriff grabbed for the file, but Cherry held it to her chest. “I didn’t miss it. I saw it, and I smelled the booze on Gigi. I was the first one on the scene that day.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“What was I gonna say? She was an old lady, who am I to judge if she wants to have a little nip? Besides, I didn’t want to embarrass her or have people think poorly of her memory.”
“A little nip? At ten o’clock in the morning?” Cherry’s voice rose, a note of accusation in her tone. “If you’d been around the past ten years, you would have known right away that this is suspicious. Everybody in town knows that Gigi is a teetotaler.”
Charlie looked from her friend to Taylor, still not used to Cherry’s terminology.
“It means she didn’t drink. Not like, didn’t drink much, but didn’t drink at all.” Cherry sighed and shook her head. “Ryan’s daddy was an alcoholic, and Gigi hated the stuff. She didn’t even have it in the house.”
“Well, it sounds like she had some that day,” Charlie said. “And quite a bit.”
Cherry passed the file to Taylor. “What it sounds like to me is, you have some more investigating to do.”
…
Their next stop was the lawyer’s office. Charlie wondered what kind of hold Cherry would have over the town attorney. Had she dated him, as well?
Probably not. Clem Watkins opened the door to his office, and he looked old enough to be her grandfather.
Cherry hugged him and kissed his cheek. “Hello, handsome. How have you been?”
Hmmm. Well, maybe.
Clem laughed and hugged her back. “I’ve been better, and I’ve been worse. But I’m sure pleased to see you.” He looked over Cherry’s shoulder at Charlie. “Well, it’s about time you came to see me.”
She looked around, wondering how the man knew her. “You know who I am?”
“Of course I know who you are. I’ve been helping your grandmother search for you for twenty years now.” He gestured to the client seats as he made his way around his desk and sank into a large leather office chair. “You’d better have a seat and tell me what finally brought you down to see me.”
She sat in one of the office chairs. Its seat was covered in leather and made to resemble a saddle. She looked around the room and noted the Western motif.
A coat rack stood in the corner, and a white Stetson hung from one of the racks. Charlie wasn’t sure if that was part of the decoration or the lawyer’s hat. At least the hat was white, so hopefully Clem was one of the good guys.
She shifted and rubbed up against the hump of the saddle seat. Hmm, not an unpleasant feeling. Maybe she should get one of these chairs for her room. Geez, focus girl. “I’m here to see what kind of rights I have on keeping Gigi’s property. My dad seems to think he’s entitled to sell it.”
“Yes, Ryan was here about an hour ago. I hadn’t heard that he was back in town, but I’m not surprised to see him. Not when some of Gigi’s money is involved.” Clem pulled a folder from his desk drawer. “Gigi was pretty clear about what she wanted for Tucked Away, in case anything happened to her.”
“And? What did she want?” She leaned forward.
“She wanted the farm that she had poured her heart and soul, and most of her life into, to stay in the Tucker Family.”
She felt a little heart tug at being included in the Tucker family. “That’s what I want, too. What do I have to do?”
“The most important thing you need to do is stay. Stay on the farm. Gigi put a contingency in place that you need to be living on the property for a full three months. She wanted you to experience an entire summer on the farm. It was her favorite time of year. So, don’t give any kind of indication that you might be leaving.”
Her heartbeat quickened as she thought of that awful night a few weeks ago, when she’d been so close to packing up and heading back to New York. She gave an involuntary shudder. What would have happened if she hadn’t run off the road and crashed Zack’s truck?
Would she have lost Tucked Away forever? “Does my dad have any chance of selling the farm out from under me?”
“Not yet. He is looking for ways to contest the will. He considers himself the rightful heir to the property.”
“Isn’t he? How can I fight that? Ryan is Gigi’s son.”
“But Tucked Away belonged to Gigi. She got to decide what she wanted to do with it. Don’t worry about your dad. She left him a hefty compensation, but she wanted you to have the farm. It was important to her that you felt like Tucked Away was your home.”
Her heart ached with the wish that she had met this woman who had cared so much about her. Thanks to her parents, she had struggled her entire life with feeling unworthy of love. And Gigi had loved her unconditionally, without ever even meeting her.
She couldn’t let Gigi down. She wouldn’t. “Tucked Away is my home. I’m not going anywhere. Tell me what I need to do. Is there something I should sign?”
Clem Watkins laughed a big, hearty laugh. “You are Geraldine’s grandbaby. I’ve seen that same look of determination on her face. There’s nothing to sign yet. Just keep your big-city bottom planted on that land for another two weeks.”
Yes, Clem was one of the good guys. Charlie smiled at her grandmother’s attorney, setting her jaw and pushing her shoulders back. “I’m not going anywhere. I belong at Tucked Away, and it belongs to me. I’m staying.”
Chapter Seventeen
Charlie sat straight up in bed, jolted awake by a terrible feeling of dread. The digital clock read just before midnight. She reached to turn the switch on the bedside lamp, bathing the room in a warm light.
The room was deadly silent, and she held her breath in anticipation. She jumped as her cell phone rang on the bedside table.
With the instinct of a mother, she knew the identity of the caller before she saw her name displayed across the phone. She grabbed for her cell before the second ring had time to complete. “Sophie. Honey, are you all right?”
She strained to hear the teenager’s voice on the other end of the line. She could make out faint country music in the background an
d thought she heard a whimper. “Sophie, talk to me, are you okay?”
“Charlie.” The voice, barely above a whisper. “Can you come and get me? I can’t get ahold of my dad.”
She was already off the bed, pulling on a pair of shorts and stuffing her feet into a pair of tennis shoes. “Yes, of course. I’m on my way. Tell me where you are.”
“Um, a bar. In the next town over. It’s right off the highway. I think it’s called The Dive.”
She could hear Sophie choking on her sobs as she tried to talk. She had her keys in her hand and was out the front door, running for the car. She hadn’t even taken the time to change from her pajama top or to put on a bra. “I know where that is. I’m coming. I’m coming right now.”
“My mom said it would be fun. Like we were girlfriends. It’s not fun. She got drunk, and I can’t find her, and I’m scared.” Sophie’s words came in a rush before another sob took her breath.
The young girl’s cries were reaching through the phone and breaking her heart. That stupid bitch, Shari. What was she thinking?
Charlie yanked the car door open. Joy jumped across the seat right before she slid in and cranked the engine. She threw the car into gear, spitting gravel as the tires spun then caught, and the little car shot out of the driveway. “I’m in the car. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Where are you?”
“I’m in the bathroom. But some lady just came in and threw up. Some of it got on my shoe.”
“Okay, baby. I know you’re scared, but stay in the bathroom. I’m on my way.”
Sophie’s voice broke again. Charlie could hear her crying. “Please hurry, Charlie. I just want to go home.”
“I know, honey. I know.” A click and then silence sounded in her ear. She threw the phone to the floor of the car in frustration. Stupid Montana cell service.
Oh lord. She prayed it was the cell service and that something hadn’t happened to disconnect Sophie’s phone. The speedometer inched close to ninety as she sped down the highway. The wind slapped at her through the open window and whipped her hair around her face. Her heart pounded against her chest with every dash of yellow line that she passed as she flew down the blacktop.
The seven minutes it took her to reach the bar were spent in prayer, Charlie silently bargaining with God to keep the young girl safe.
She saw the neon sign and careened into the parking lot, spraying dust as she pulled in next to a battered pickup truck. She slammed on the brakes and leaped out of the car, breaking into a run as she headed for the door of the bar.
She was so hell-bent on reaching the front door that she almost missed the two men standing against the side of the bar. As she got closer, she saw they were crowded around a young woman.
So focused on finding Sophie, it took her a moment to register the situation. The men looked happy enough, joking and punching each other in the arm. But the woman had her arms tucked around herself and her shoulders hunched forward, her long blond hair falling forward and obscuring her face. Her dress was skin tight with barely enough fabric to cover her petite frame. She didn’t look too steady on the spiked red heels she wore.
Charlie’s subconscious registered danger, but she had to get to Sophie. She would send someone from the bar out to help this woman.
Then something about the way the woman moved, a subtle shift and she caught a glimpse of her face. Oh no. It couldn’t be. Sophie.
“Sophie.” Charlie’s momentum carried her forward. She barreled into one of the men, pushing him aside as she reached for the girl.
Sophie flung herself into Charlie’s arms, clutching her waist and sobbing into her shoulder.
She stroked her hair and murmured against her ear. “It’s all right. I’m here.” She pulled the teenager back, brushing her hair from her eyes, shocked at the transformation of Sophie’s sweet face.
Thick black eyeliner and dark shadow surrounded her eyes, her tears turning the black mascara into dark circles. Deep red lipstick smudged across Sophie’s lips and across her chin.
Her long hair, usually neat in braids or ponytails, now hung in curly blonde waves, brushing the cleavage visible at the top of her dress. Shari must have shoved her into a push-up bra and one of her slutty dresses. What kind of mother did this to her daughter?
Sophie trembled against her, hugging her arms across her chest, and choking out words between cries. “I…I…can barely see. She wouldn’t l…l…let me bring my glasses.”
Charlie wrapped her in her arms again. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m going to take you home.”
“Well, ain’t this sweet? A little mother and daughter reunion.” The man she had bumped spoke with the drawl of a drunk, and the scent of alcohol wafted off his breath.
She looked around for the first time at the two men who now circled her and Sophie. One of the men was easily over six feet, and the other was shorter and stocky, his thick arms filling out the sleeves of his T-shirt. They both wore the standard Montana farmhand outfit of jeans, boots and T-shirts, both shirts advertising some type of beer.
“Thanks, guys, for keeping an eye on her.” She tried the passive approach and moved to squeeze between the two men, keeping Sophie locked tight against her side.
The taller one reached an arm out, blocking her path. He had a soft middle, probably from too much beer, but his forearm boasted the sinewy strains of pure muscle. His dark hair curled around a dirty green ball cap bearing the John Deere insignia. He spoke around a chewed up toothpick that poked out the corner of his mouth. “Oh, we were keeping an eye on her all right. Weren’t we, Vern? A real close eye.”
She cringed at the leering tone in his voice and tried to duck under his arm. He moved it lower, blocking their escape. Her heartbeat quickened, and she could feel the sweat forming under her arms. She tried to keep the telltale tremble of fear out of her voice. “Well, I’ve got it now. Thanks again.”
“Actually, I think we’ve got you now.” The taller man moved forward, pressing the women against the side of the bar, the wood timber slats rough against Charlie’s back. She could almost feel the slimy trail he left on her skin as he coolly looked her up and down.
He reached out a hand and slid it slowly down her arm. “We were just having a little fun there, Mama. Weren’t we, Vern?”
The shorter man nodded vigorously, obviously used to agreeing with whatever John Deere Cap said. “Yeah, we were just having some fun.” He wore his blond hair in a crew cut style and the cotton of his T-shirt stretched tight against his belly, the Michelob insignia faded and thin from wear.
“Don’t you want to have a little fun with us, Mama?” John Deere Cap leaned forward, fingering her hair, his breath, warm and hoppy-smelling, against her face. “I bet we could show you and your little daughter here a real good time.”
Charlie pulled the girl tighter to her and smacked his hand away. “Don’t you touch her.” She tried to nudge her way through again.
John Deere Cap pushed her roughly back. “How about if I just touch you then?” He slapped his hands against the wall, his arms locked on either side of her and Sophie, pinning them in. He pressed himself against her. She could smell his faint body odor mingled with the alcohol coming through his sweat.
He leaned forward as if to kiss her, and she turned her face to the side. Instead, he opened his mouth and slid his wet tongue up her cheek. “Mmm, you taste good, Mama.” His voice was low and menacing.
Acting out of instinct, she slapped his face, her fingernail leaving a long scratch trailing down his cheek. She pushed against his body, trying to escape.
He pulled back and grabbed at his cheek. “You bitch. You scratched me.” A slow, dangerous leer spread across his face. He grabbed her arm, squeezing tightly. “Mama likes to play rough.”
Michelob Shirt laughed and egged him on, grabbing at his crotch and hefting it up. “Yeah, she does. Show her how we play rough, man.”
Charlie pushed Sophie behind her, placing her body protectively in front of the girl. A river of fea
r ran up her spine, and she knew they were in trouble.
She was on her own here. Sophie was of no use. Charlie could feel her cowering behind her. The tremors of her body accompanied the small whimpers she faintly heard. This was it. Nobody was coming to save them. It was all up to her.
She tried for the passive approach once more, not wanting to spur anything more on. “Look, we don’t want any trouble. Please, just let us go home.”
John Deere Cap still had his hand tightly wrapped around her arm. He pulled her roughly against him. “Well, that’s just too bad, ain’t it now. ’Cause trouble is exactly what we’re looking for. And I think we’re gonna find it in those little shorts you got on there.”
“You tell her, Earl.” Michelob shirt was practically salivating at the display of force the taller man was using.
Shocked and terrified at his aggressive touch, she pushed against his chest, using his name as power of her own. “Get your hands off me, Earl.”
He released her arm, then with reflexes unbefitting of a drunk, he grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back. “I haven’t even begun to put my hands on you.” He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her against him. “Grab that little one, Vern. Me and Mama are gonna have ourselves a little talk in my truck.”
The direct threat to Sophie was the last straw.
Unconcerned for her own safety, Charlie bit down on the arm that held her hair as hard as she could. Her assailant yelled and dropped her to the ground. She kicked at his shins and brought her leg up. “Run, Sophie.”
Earl blocked her knee, cutting off her best weapon, and backhanded her across the face. “You bitch.”
Stunned, Charlie shook her head. The sheer force of the blow nearly knocked the wind out of her. Something primal swelled inside of her, and she went at the man with all she had. Screams of rage ripped from her throat, as her arms and legs were a whirling dervish of hitting and kicking. She scratched at his face, clawing at his skin.
One of his arms came up defensively, while the other shoved her back, ripping her pajama top and exposing her bare skin beneath.