“You’ve yanked my chain,” Hix stated.
“Say again?” Becker asked.
“You’ve yanked my chain.”
The roguishness sweeping clean from him, Becker studied Hix shrewdly and was wise enough to read Hix’s demeanor and keep his mouth shut.
They’d had barely any contact at all. Blatt had made it that way while Hix was his deputy and Hix had inherited that when he’d become sheriff. Becker didn’t really know him. Therefore, Becker didn’t know not to play games with him.
He’d just assumed since Hix had no choice but to fall in line with Blatt’s deal, this only because Becker never stepped over a line Hix could use to pounce, that Hix was someone who’d take a few not-so-friendly jabs aimed his way just for a meth man and his moll to enjoy some shits and grins.
“Friends don’t do that,” Hix educated him.
Becker got all business.
“Now, Drake—”
“Think on that, Becker,” he ordered, turned to Tawnee, dipped at the waist in a phony bow and capped it by touching his forefinger to his forehead and flipping it her way. “Ms. Dare. Pleasure.”
Then he turned on his boot and walked out of the room, out of the house and into his Ram.
He’d cleared Becker’s land and was driving down County Road 21 when he pulled out his cell and called Greta, eyes to the dash clock seeing it was after six at night.
“Hey, good timing. Just got done with my last client, everything cool?” she said in greeting.
“You gonna be home soon?” he asked.
“Yeah. You gonna be done early? Want me to pick something up or cook? Just to say, I have to leave for the Dew at around eight, but I might be able to push that.”
“I’ll be there in half an hour.”
“Okay, Hix, but is everything okay?”
“I’ll be there. Half an hour.”
It was hesitant this time when she repeated, “Okay, Hix.”
“Later, Greta.”
“Yeah, later, darlin’.”
Hix hung up and drove.
He didn’t park in her drive.
He parked at the curb.
He walked to the door that she had open by the time he hit her porch, her eyes to his Bronco at the curb before they came to him.
She pushed open the storm door for him but stepped back into the house the minute his hand went to it, her gaze never leaving him as he entered.
The storm door swooshed shut on a well-oiled hinge.
He didn’t fuck around.
“Met your mom,” he announced and watched the blood drain from her face.
Oh yeah.
“I think you can understand I can’t have any ties to a criminal element, Greta,” he stated the obvious.
She shook her head. “Hix, she has a record, but—”
Of course she did.
“You should have told me.”
“I didn’t think that—”
“During our conversation at the Dew. After one of the times you let me fuck you. Over breakfast. Your mother’s the moll of the only known drug pusher in the county. That’s somethin’ I need to know.”
Her eyes were huge. “Hix, I didn’t—”
“Now I got him callin’ me out to his fortress, thinkin’ he can fuck with me, standin’ there smilin’ as your mother threatens me, I don’t treat you right.”
She looked like she was going to move to him, saying, “Oh my God, Hix, I’m so—”
“This is over.”
She went solid and snapped her mouth shut.
“I can’t do it,” he continued. “Shouldn’t ’ve done it. Shouldn’t ’ve started it. Shit has a way of gettin’ complicated real quick, but Greta, babe, gotta admit, even with all Hope’s bullshit, you take the cake.”
She unfroze her mouth enough to start, “Can we—?”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “No. Your mom, she’s a real gem, Greta. Pure class.”
“God,” she whispered, her expressive face filling with dismay.
Oh yeah.
She knew.
She knew all along.
Fuck him.
“Coulda saved me from that,” he told her. “Coulda at least given me a heads up so I wasn’t blindsided like that. Walked in there, no clue. Just an evening’s fun for an asshole and his piece.”
She winced.
“Yeah, it went like that,” he bit off.
“I’m so sorry, Hix. Let me—”
“I am too, Greta. But now I know so I can untangle things before they get too messy.”
To explain what he meant by that, Hix was only a step in the front door, so he only had to turn and reach to the handle to open it.
He looked over his shoulder at her.
“I’d say take care of yourself, but it was made clear to me you got an army to do that so I won’t bother.”
He gave her that.
Then he walked out the door.
Greta
I sat on my ass on the floor by my front door with my phone in my hand and I called her.
“Well, hello, my doting daughter,” Mom answered jovially.
God, I hated her.
Hated her.
“He was the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I whispered.
“I’m sorry, baby girl, Momma can’t hear you,” she sing-songed.
“Better than Keith.”
“Is that so?” she asked happily.
“Yeah,” I pushed out.
“Well, sounds like someone should have paid their mother’s cable bill.”
“Actually, sounds to me like someone’s got herself a sugar daddy,” I returned.
“Greta, Greta, Greta,” she chanted with fake disappointment. “You just never listen to me. Like I told you many times before, a girl has to play all her angles.”
“Scratch this one.”
“Say what?”
“Scratch this one,” I repeated.
“Hmm . . .” She pretended to consider it then stated, “Maybe I don’t want to.”
“You’re dead to me.”
“Now it’s drama,” Mom muttered in exaggerated exasperation.
“You’re dead to Andy.”
That got me silence.
“I’ve already called,” I informed her. “Taken you off the visitor list. If you try to see him at Sunnydown, they’re going to call the police.”
“So you think Sheriff Drake will come after me?” she scoffed.
“I think, after whatever you did to him today, he’d enjoy that immensely.”
She’d obviously chewed him up, something I already knew, but she gave that to me too because her voice went nasty and threatening.
“You think you can keep me from my boy—”
Her boy?
He’d never been her boy.
I cut her off.
“You’re dead to me. You’re dead to Andy. Your reign of terror is over, Mom. Long past due. Now, I hope this one lasts a while because if he doesn’t, you . . . are . . . fucked.”
I drew in breath as she snapped, “Greta.”
“Goodbye, Mom.”
I hung up.
I then blocked her calls.
Hixon’s words invaded my brain.
No, sweetheart, all that is really fuckin’ simple.
“Guess you were wrong,” I murmured to the darkening room.
And it was then, silently, I started crying.
Last Straw
Hixon
“BLOOD’S CALLOWAY’S, NO surprise,” forensics’ John told Hix the next morning over the phone. “Fibers, carpet, already talked to Larry, says from what he’s seen of Faith Calloway’s home, they’re from there. Also says he’ll get samples just so we can check.”
“Right,” Hix muttered when John paused.
“Hairs,” John went on, “we got some that look like they’re probably Nat’s and seven long, light-brown ones we got off the driver’s and passenger’s sides that Larry says could be the wife’s, though he thinks
she gets hers dyed and we know these aren’t, but we gotta run ’em. That last, Hix, think you know but sucks to remind you, it takes weeks to get DNA run, even on an active investigation. Sometimes months. Seein’ as this is so crucial to where you’re at in yours, I’ll try to see what pull I can get but everyone’s tests are crucial. So my suggestion is, see if you got county money in your budget to get private tests run. It’ll go a lot faster.”
“I’ll send a deputy up to get samples,” Hix replied. “It’ll be Bets. You met her. Elizabeth Rowe. She’ll be there sometime today.”
“Gotcha. Any luck with the convenience stores?” John asked.
“Maybe. Got a sketch artist going to Alliance today. I’ll be expediting that since the guy reports the man he saw was not only twitchy, he had long, light-brown hair.”
“Fuckin’ A, hope we nail this fucker,” John muttered.
“Yeah,” Hix replied. Something coming from the bullpen that set his eyes that way, and when he saw what it was, he set his jaw. “Gotta go. We’ll keep you informed.”
“Great, thanks, brother.”
They disconnected as Lou hit the door with Bets on her heels.
It was a busy day for a Saturday at McCook County Sheriff’s Department, and obviously not just because he and all his deputies were putting in overtime to catch a killer.
“Sorry, boss, I tried—” Bets started.
“It’s okay, Bets,” he said, eyes to Lou but he turned them to his deputy. “And since you’re here, need you to find time today to go up to Cherry and pick up some samples from forensics.”
“On my way to Alliance yesterday with Larry, I didn’t get a chance to deal with that other case and they didn’t come in,” she replied.
“Cherry first.”
She nodded, glanced at Lou and took off.
Hix didn’t even get up from his desk when he said to Lou. “This shit does not hit my office.”
“You’ll see,” she said quietly.
“Lou, seriously, I don’t think it’s lost on you—”
“You’ll see last night you made the biggest fuckin’ mistake in your goddamned life.”
Hix shut his mouth.
She turned to leave, and Hix started pulling in a big breath to alleviate his frustration but he stopped in the middle of it when she turned back.
He didn’t like the look on her face. It was worse than the pissed-off disappointment she’d been wearing before.
So he braced.
“Hear you’re lookin’ for a house,” she noted.
He didn’t respond.
“Probably gotta use that inheritance your uncle gave you.”
Hix grew alert.
That was the second time someone had mentioned that.
She shook her head then finally lost the control she’d been holding, if only by a thread.
“Poor, stupid, stupid Hope,” she spat.
And with that, she stormed out.
He didn’t watch her go.
He picked up his cell, went to Recent Calls, touched the name he needed and put the phone to his ear.
Greta’s answer was hesitant. “Hey.”
“Our shit is done. It doesn’t come to my office. It doesn’t exist in my life at all. Next person you run your mouth to, Greta, you let them know that.”
“Lou,” she muttered.
“Yeah,” he bit out.
“Listen, Hix, I didn’t know she was—”
“I said what I had to say.”
There was silence and then, “Yeah, you’re good at that.”
He shouldn’t ask. He didn’t even want to freaking know.
He still asked, “What’s that remark mean?”
“It means you’re good at talking and you’re not real good at listening. I’ve never been interrupted so much in my whole damned life. But it’s not even that. It’s just all about you. You think you escaped narrowly, I’m clueing into the fact that maybe the one who escaped was me.”
“Then we’re both good with where this is at,” he clipped.
“Yeah, we are. Goodbye, Sheriff.”
He was going to share his farewell but he had dead air.
Hix tossed his phone down, got up and walked out of his office, calling to Donna, who was, strangely, standing and talking to Hal like she didn’t hate his guts.
She turned her head his way. “Yeah, Hix.”
“You get a second, wanna see you in my office.”
She nodded. “Give me a minute.”
He jerked up his chin and walked back to his office.
He went to his phone, snatched it up and called Larry.
“Yo, boss,” Larry answered.
“You on your way to pick up the artist?” Hix asked.
“Yup.”
“Use lights. John called. They found long, light-brown hairs that haven’t been chemically treated. Bets is goin’ up to Cherry to get samples. We’re carvin’ money outta the budget to run private DNA tests. I want that sketch and I want it soon. You with me?”
“Hell yeah. Lights on, Hix.”
He was in the middle of what he had to say to Larry when Donna walked in and he ended the call quickly after Larry affirmed he’d got him.
“Close the door, would you?” he said to Donna.
She closed it, turned to him and said, “I can’t read your face.”
“This is personal. Not business,” he announced.
“Uh-oh,” she mumbled.
They had shit to do so he wasn’t going to waste any more on this than he had to.
“Two times, people have mentioned my uncle’s inheritance to me . . .” he trailed off, seeing her go wired before she blanked it. “Tell me,” he bit out.
“Hixon, I’m thinkin’ maybe we should do this over beers.”
“You said you all kept your mouths shut, all that went down with Hope and me,” he reminded her. “Something else you didn’t share?”
“Hix, seriously, beers,” she replied.
He stood at the front of his desk and stared into her eyes.
She blew out a breath, walked to him, put a hand on the back of one of the chairs in front of the desk and said quietly, “Think you’ll get, when I tell you, why we thought this all would blow over.”
“Tell me,” he repeated.
“It was about the ring.”
Hix closed his eyes and shook his head.
He opened them and demanded, “Say again?”
“The twentieth anniversary ring.”
Hix felt his body turn to stone.
“She thought you’d . . . I think she thought you would . . .”
“Cave,” he whispered.
He saw it then, Hope staring at him the way she did over that damned table, the papers on it, their lawyers present.
He knew it then, how she’d seemed almost paralyzed in shock after he’d lifted his head once he’d signed his name.
Now he knew it, how she’d started calling an hour after they left that table, begging him to talk.
You know, Hixon, you know.
After he got that inheritance, she’d asked him to buy her that ring on their twentieth anniversary, smiling, excited, showing him the photo of it in a catalog.
All he’d seen was the price, and he had to admit he didn’t hold back his laughter that she’d even suggest he get her something that pricy when they were on the verge of putting kids through college.
He’d also admit that maybe that was not the right reaction to have.
That said, she’d given him a tremulous grin once he was done laughing so he thought she’d gotten where he was at, where he thought they both should be at.
And saw the light.
Obviously, she hadn’t.
But he never in his life would think she’d wage war over a ring. A war that would destroy their marriage.
And he never in the life he’d led with her thought she was a woman who’d do such a despicably selfish thing.
“Hixon, if I thought for a second she’d actual
ly go through with it, I would have said something,” Donna assured him quickly. “And then when she did, I thought . . . I know it wasn’t my place, but I thought you were better off without her.”
“It wasn’t your place.”
He watched her watching him carefully.
“It wasn’t your place to be in the position to tell me,” he explained. “It was hers.”
“I saw Lou was in here, was it her that said something?” she asked, beginning to look ticked.
He shook his head. “This dies right now.”
Her eyes grew sharp. “Know you’re seein’ Greta, that going okay?”
“It’s over.”
She swung back a bit and murmured, “Right.”
“This dies here, Donna. Lou coming in here. What happened with Greta. Hope’s bullshit. It’s just done. Life is now just what it was before, except now I know well and truly I’m good bein’ shot of Hope. Greta’s the Greta you know. Lou is just a good friend and she’ll calm down. We put who killed Nat Calloway behind bars, it’ll all just go back to normal.”
“Okay, Hix,” she agreed dubiously.
“I’m not pissed you told me,” he assured her. “I’m not pissed you kept it from me. I’m not anything but maybe a little troubled how easy it is to get over the woman I spent nearly half my life with.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly.
“That’s it.”
“Okay, Hixon.”
“Beers would not be unwelcome tonight, though, you can get away from the ball and chain.”
She gave him a smile.
“I’ll call Herb and ask Larry to take call. Then I’ll call Toast and Tommy and one of us will pick you up so you can get slaughtered.”
That wasn’t going to happen.
But he’d be glad to have as much as he wanted and not have to worry about taking call or driving.
“Thanks, Donna.”
Her eyes got sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Hix.”
“That’s the troubling thing,” he returned. “I no longer am.”
“Healthy,” she murmured. “Healing.”
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
He nodded.
She shot him an uncertain grin, gave him a long lookover.
Then she walked out.
He watched her go and wondered if, through salon gossip, Greta knew about the ring.
After that, he wondered why that would be the first thing he wondered.
Complicated Page 25