by Stacy-Deanne
“Do you hear yourself? You sound like a damn robot. Don’t you feel strange at all?”
“No.” She smiled with that astonished expression. “I chose to be with Jonathan. Why is that so hard to understand?”
“You have a life outside this place.”
“You mean my job? I’m resigning from the force. I’ll call and let them know.”
“What?” Lisa’s face fell on the floor. “You can’t do that.”
“Yes, I can. That’s my old life. I’m rejecting everything from the outside world.”
“I don’t believe this.” Lisa covered her mouth. “Dee, you love being a police officer. You won’t be able to function without it.”
“You seem to be fine.”
“That’s a different situation. What about your home and your finances? This is crazy.” Lisa hit the back of the couch. “You can’t just leave your life behind and lock yourself up in this compound.”
“Why can’t you understand that I now know my path?” She raised an eyebrow. “Who I was before wasn’t the real me. It was the person the outside world wanted me to be.”
“Oh god.” Lisa gripped her head, groaning. “It’s worse than Winston said. You trust me, right?”
“Of course.”
“Jonathan did something to you.”
She laughed.
“I’m serious, Dee. He drugged you or—”
“He’s not forcing me to stay here. I can leave whenever I want.”
“That’s what he says, but he’s tricked your mind into making you think you want to be here.” Lisa moved her hands around, wiggling her fingers. “He’s done something to you. I don’t know what it is, but I saw a glimpse of it just now. He tried to pull the same shit on me.”
“You’re mistaken.” Dee closed her eyes and shook her head. “How come you can’t be happy for me?”
“Jonathan is a sadistic lunatic who is keeping you against your will. Winston and I won’t stand by while he does this. Don’t you miss Winston?”
Dee swallowed, stroking her dress. “As a friend.”
“Dee—”
“Besides, I had to come to terms with my denial concerning Winston. He will never love me like he loves you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Lisa squealed. “Jonathan is a piece of work. So he planted it in your head that Winston and I got something going?”
“He didn’t have to.” Dee glared at Lisa. “I saw it with my eyes and I felt it with my heart.”
“You’re so wrong. We’d never do that to you.”
“Here, I’m not second to anyone, Lisa. Jonathan makes me feel like the only woman in the world.”
Lisa scoffed. “Except for the other women around here?”
“You don’t understand our world.”
“You got that right.”
“Why did you come here?” Dee stood. “If not to support me?”
“I came to help you.” Lisa stood, grabbing Dee’s wrist. “Come back with me. We’ll get you some help and reverse whatever it is he’s done to you.”
“He’s not doing anything, and I’m not leaving.” Dee strolled to the doorway. “I’m tired of having to sacrifice what I want for other people. Here, I can enjoy my own happiness.”
“Dee—”
“Either you accept this or we don’t need to see each other again.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Don’t come between me and Jonathan.” Her face coiled into something Lisa didn’t recognize. “Because I’ll choose him every damn time.”
“Dee.” Lisa reached for her. “Listen.”
Dee tossed her head in the air and left the room.
Lisa slumped over in tears.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“After you.” Sheriff Ketchum did his best to tuck in his pregnant-woman belly for Connie to enter the small doorway of the Edgemere diner.
The place smelled of meatloaf, macaroni and cheese and ham sandwiches.
Old men with sweeping beards and cowboy hats, watched Connie as they munched on summer sausages and chili.
An elderly woman sat at the counter, throwing Connie glances over her newspaper.
Sheriff Ketchum escorted Connie to the counter, greeting everyone in the place by his or her first name.
“Hey, Sheriff.” A freckle-faced waitress with unkempt curly, brown hair and a pencil behind her ear chewed strawberry-scented gum. “Want your usual?”
“No, here on business.” He gestured to Connie. “This is Detective Connie Wilks from the Baltimore Police. She works homicide.”
The woman munched, glaring at Connie. “You a detective?”
“Yes, I am.”
The woman pressed her sagging breasts on the counter, sizing up Connie.
“This here is Bryndle,” Ketchum said. “We need to speak to Marybelle. She knew we were coming.”
Bryndle gave Connie another hard glance and went into the kitchen.
“Ouch.” Connie sat at the counter. “I don’t think she likes me very much.”
“She’s always like that when a pretty girl’s around.” Ketchum slid his fat butt on the seat. “Don’t take it personally.”
A medium-height, pale woman with ruby-red hair in a ponytail strutted her wide hips to the counter. “Hello, there.” She held her hand out to Connie, her frost-blue eyes gleaming. “I’m Marybelle.” Her twang suffocated her words. “Nice to meet you.”
Connie introduced herself and shook Marybelle’s hand. “Nice to meet you too.”
“Wow.” She chomped on gum. “Didn’t think you’d be so young and pretty. I was expecting someone old as the Sheriff.”
Ketchum rolled his eyes, snickering.
“That’s kind of you.” Connie smiled at Marybelle. “I appreciate you talking with me.”
“No problem.” Marybelle snorted. “Excuse me. My sinus is acting up today. You want me to tell you what happened?”
“I already showed her the area where the phone was found.” Ketchum glanced at a menu.
Marybelle relayed the story of her daughter finding the phone and them taking it to the police.
“This is a picture of Boyce.” Connie showed it to her. “Do you recognize that him?”
“Holy moly.” Marybelle’s gum hung from her lips. “Yeah, I’ve seen that guy.”
“Wait.” Ketchum squinted. “You saw Boyce Vickers?”
“Yeah, he was here a few weeks ago.” Marybelle scratched behind her ear. “Eh, came in here to eat. I noticed him right off because we only get folks from the neighborhood in here and he was a new face.” She smiled. “And, handsome too.”
“How long was he here?” Connie whipped out her notepad. “Did he say where he was going?”
“I only spoke to him a little. He ordered a piece of cheesecake and said he was on his way to a job interview.” Marybelle shrugged. “I figured he meant Garfield because he’s the only one around here looking for workers.”
“Who’s Garfield?”
“Garfield Larose owns the goat farm not far from here,” Ketchum said. “Big, gorgeous property with a lake.”
“He breeds goats?”
“He’s always looking for someone to help out on the farm, but can’t keep a worker to save his life.” Ketchum pulled at the gray hairs on his square chin. “Guess the work is harder than they realize.”
Connie pointed her pencil at Marybelle. “You don’t know for sure if Boyce saw Garfield?”
“Uh-uh.” She shook her head. “But I heard him telling Earl-James about the interview. I figured it had to be Garfield because Boyce looked like a labor guy who’d be into that type of work.”
“What do you mean?” Connie asked.
“Well, his clothes gave him away. He wore a plaid shirt, jeans and work boots.” Marybelle gestured to her own body. “Clothes a ranch hand or farmer might wear.”
“This is great.” Connie nodded, writing. “All this circling around we’ve been doing to find Boyce and you guys have
given me more info in one day than I’ve gotten since this began.” She straightened on the stool. “Tell me about Garfield.”
Ketchum shrugged. “He’s an okay guy. I’ve known his family for years. He’s about thirty-seven or thirty-eight right, Marybelle?”
“Thirty-seven like me,” Marybelle said. “Garfield and I was in the same grade in school.”
“Yeah, his momma ran off years back with this army dude.” Ketchum rubbed his chin. “And, his daddy died about five or six years ago leaving Garfield the farm. Garfield’s a good person. He’s hardworking and the women love him.”
Marybelle’s cheeks reddened. “He is a looker, and he always got money.” She stacked menus as more people entered the diner. “Every time you see him he’s flashing cash.”
“I’d love to meet Mr. Larose.” Connie stood. “You mind taking me to check him out, Sheriff?”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure.” He struggled to get off the stool. “I can’t think of a better thing to do than escorting a beautiful woman around.”
Connie giggled. “I appreciate it.”
Marybelle chuckled, shaking her head. “You keep that wife of yours busy don’t you, Sheriff?”
“Come on, Detective Wilks.” He took off his cowboy hat and bowed. “Your chariot awaits.”
****
Garfield Larose lived in a white, two-story panel home among acres of green grass with a giant lake behind the property.
“See.” Ketchum drove through the wooden fence and onto the rocky pavement. “He owns all of this.”
“It’s huge.” Connie pointed to the woods in the distance. “Is that his too?”
“Yep.” Ketchum stirred the wobbly police car. “This property has been in Garfield’s family for generations.”
“It’s so peaceful and quiet.” Connie sniffed, smelling fresh air with a hint of goat.
“And, those are the goat houses.”
Two large, wooden buildings set over to the side. The sounds of goats screeching and beckoning flowed from the openings, secured with wire.
Connie laughed. “Well, they seem excited about something don’t they?”
A black goat peeked through the opening.
“Aw, isn’t he cute?” Connie reached over Ketchum, waving out the window. “Hi, baby.”
The goat ducked back into the little house.
“I love animals.” She took off her seatbelt.
“Really?” Ketchum’s fat cheeks spread. “And, here I thought you was the city type.”
“I am.” They got out the car and trekked past the red pickup toward Garfield’s house. “But, I have an uncle who had a farm in Kentucky.” Connie smiled. “And, I’d visit him every summer. Man I loved that.” Her sneakers crunched on rocks and hay. “Seems like a million years ago.”
They walked onto the wrap-around porch that brought a classic, country flair to the home.
“I gotta warn you.” Ketchum rang the doorbell then knocked on the door. “Garfield’s going to be on you like white on rice.”
Connie straightened her blouse. “I can handle myself around flirtatious men.”
Ketchum cackled. “Yeah, old Garfield loves a pretty face.”
The door opened and a tall tanned man with sparkling brown eyes, flawless skin and sculptured cheekbones walked out. “Well.” His exotic eyes landed on Connie. “Am I dead?” He glanced at Ketchum. “Because I think I’ve died and gone to Heaven.”
Ketchum laughed, nudging Connie. “I told you he was something else.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Sheriff, who is this gorgeous thing right here?” Garfield took Connie’s hand, his palm softer than its rugged exterior. “It’s wonderful to meet you, pretty lady.” He pressed his moist, narrow lips to her hand, his five o’clock shadow massaging her skin. “Mm.”
“Down, boy.” Ketchum laughed. “You trying to inhale her?”
Connie grinned.
“Excuse me for being forward.” Garfield’s inquisitive eyes glowed underneath his heavy eyebrows. “I’m Garfield Larose and if there is anything you need or want, I will move Heaven and earth to get it for you.”
Connie tucked in her bottom lip. “You make an unforgettable first impression. I’m Detective Connie Wilks.”
“Detective?” His smile dropped. “Eh, you don’t look like a detective.”
She gave a half-smile. “Well, I am.”
“Detective Wilks is with the Baltimore Police,” Ketchum said. “She’s investigating someone you might’ve come in contact with.”
“Yes, may we come in for a second and ask you some questions?” Connie smiled. “It won’t take long.”
“I don’t mind at all, pretty lady.” Garfield clutched the waist of his snug jeans, bringing attention to the giant bulge in the crotch. “Come on in. You can go into the living room down the hall.”
“Thanks.” Connie walked through the vibrant entryway and passed the large dining room full of rustic fixtures and shiny wood furniture. “Your home is beautiful.” She glanced at Garfield over her shoulder. “I could use the name of your decorator.”
He grinned, pointing forward. “The living room’s right there.”
Connie arrived at a room with lavender carpeting, a raised ceiling and walls of carnation pink. “You have taste.” She smiled, sitting on the burgundy chaise lounge.
“Glad you like it.” Garfield flirted. “Hope you like it enough to stay until the morning.”
She hid her grin as she took out her notepad.
“Can I get you two anything?” He displayed a toothy smile at Connie. “I got lemonade if you want some. How about iced tea?”
“I’m fine.” She crossed her legs. “I’m investigating the disappearance of Boyce Vickers. Does that name ring a bell to you?”
“Uh, no.” Garfield swept his hand over his high pecs bulging from his navy-blue, V-neck. “You say he’s missing?”
Connie nodded.
“Why do you think I’d know anything about him?” Garfield crossed his arms, looking back and forth at the officers.
“Just came from the diner.” Ketchum hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his beige slacks. “Marybelle’s daughter found Boyce’s phone in a ditch. He’s been missing for weeks.”
Garfield cleared his throat, swallowing. “What does this have to do with me?”
“Marybelle said he stopped by the diner and was talking to Earl-James.” Ketchum tipped the rim of his hat. “She says Boyce was here for a job interview. She thinks he came here.”
“Here?” Garfield’s short, saddle-brown hair stood up at the ears. “Why does Marybelle think he was coming here?”
“You’re always looking for workers to help out.” Connie showed the picture. “Maybe you’ve seen him but don’t remember his name.”
Garfield studied the photo then shook his head. “I don’t know this guy.” He handed the photo back. “I interview a lot of guys, but I’d remember a face.” He snickered. “Vickers’ face isn’t as memorable as yours, but I’ve never met this man. Is there anything else you need?”
“I guess not.” Connie stood, straightening her blouse. “May I use your restroom?”
“Sure.” Garfield’s face brightened. “It’s upstairs. I’ll show you.”
He led her upstairs to a white bathroom with a walk-in shower and a floor of tongue-and-groove planks.
Connie walked in and stood beside the tub with feet. “It’s welcoming and cozy.” She looked out the sliding window by the toilet. “You can see the lake from here. How big is it?” When she turned around, Garfield stood so close her ear brushed his nose. “Excuse me.” She dashed toward the sink.
“You wanna know how big it is, Connie?” He pushed his hands inside his pockets, jiggling the crotch of his jeans.
“I meant the lake, Mr. Larose.”
“I didn’t.”
She faked a smile. “I need to use the bathroom now.”
“Sure.” He backed toward the door, gazing at her breasts. “
You need anything then let me know.”
After he left, Connie waited for a moment and peeked into the hall. She tiptoed past more rooms and came to the opened door of the master bedroom. She walked in, closed the door behind her, did a quick scan of Garfield’s dresser drawers, and then sat at his computer.
“Let’s see what you’ve been up to, Mr. Larose.” Connie got on the Internet and got into his Facebook profile. “Yes.” She pumped a fist. “Must be my lucky day.” She checked his PMs and scrolled as fast as she could, looking through his recent interactions.
Connie searched numerous perverted sex messages he shared with different women but no sign of him having communication with Boyce. She checked Garfield’s friends list to see if Boyce and he were friends but they weren’t. “Shit.” She logged off and tiptoed out the bedroom.
“Miss Connie?” Garfield called from downstairs.
She ran back to the bathroom and shut the door just as Garfield made it up.
“You okay in there?” He knocked on the door.
“Just a minute.” She ran the water as if she were washing her hands then popped out the door. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He licked the corner of his mouth. “You all right?”
“Yep.” She winked, rushing past him and downstairs.
Ketchum rose from the chair in the living room. “You ready to go?”
“Yes.” Connie held her hand out to Garfield. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Larose.”
“The pleasure was all mine.” He kissed her hand again, slurping.
“Maybe we’ll meet again.” She followed Ketchum to the front door.
“I hope so,” Garfield said.
Connie and Ketchum exited and walked off the porch.
“He’s hiding something,” Connie said.
Ketchum fixed his hat to block the sun as they headed for his car. “What makes you say that?”
“Just a feeling.” She looked back at the house. “It never steers me wrong.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“You’re not going to have a slice?” Dee lay on the daybed in Jonathan’s garden that night, mouthful of greasy pepperoni pizza.