Death Rides Again (A Jocelyn Shore Mystery) (2 page)

I opened my mouth to run through the long list of things I’d like to rewind starting with the man I’d divorced and ending with the man I’d killed. Then I paused. Ruby June was family and undoubtedly knew my history almost as well as she knew her own. Seeing the little gleam in her eye, I grinned at her, glad to see there was a bit more to my cousin than I might have guessed.

“Hell, no,” I answered. “I’m so frickin’ perfect the sun shines out of my hiney. Hope you have a pair of dark glasses, kiddo, ’cause I’m about to turn and leave the room.”

*   *   *

An hour later, dressed and fed, Kyla and I dropped Ruby June off at her little house on the edge of town. Pulling the big red pickup to a stop, I looked around, but there was no sign of Eddy’s truck or Eddy himself. The house was barely more than a shack, white paint faded and peeling in places to reveal the gray wood underneath. The tiny yard was sere and yellow in the November morning, and a couple of sad rosemary bushes and a double row of newly planted pansies lining the path were the only splash of color. The pansies, no doubt bought on sale at the grocery store, weren’t looking too good this morning after the first hard frost. In the window, homemade and uneven flowered curtains hung limply from a pressure rod. I had a sharp impression of children playing grown-up in an only slightly oversize playhouse and felt an unexpected lump in my throat.

“I don’t like leaving you here alone,” I said, as Kyla opened the truck door and stepped down. “You sure you don’t want to tag along with us today?”

Ruby June hesitated only briefly before hopping out to stand beside Kyla. She leaned back in to answer me.

“That’s okay. I need to get this over with.”

She must have seen something in my expression, because she added, “You don’t need to worry about me. It won’t come as a surprise to Eddy—I told him that things couldn’t go on this way, and he knew I wasn’t foolin’ around.”

“We could wait while you pack and take you back with us,” Kyla offered unexpectedly, shooting me a glance over Ruby June’s head for confirmation. I nodded.

“Pack?” Ruby June said. “I’m not moving home.”

Her stubborn expression and the lift of her jaw changed her from a beaten young girl into one of the Shore women. It was a look that did not bode well for Eddy. Unfortunately, it faded all too quickly into doubt.

Kyla did not seem to notice. “Well, all right then,” she said, climbing back into the truck.

I gave Ruby June an encouraging smile. “We’ll see you this evening at dinner.”

She didn’t answer, and I thought she looked evasive. Glancing in the rearview mirror as we drove away, I could see Ruby June still standing in her driveway, hands on hips, eyes unfocused.

“Do you think she’ll really be all right?” I asked.

Kyla shrugged. “I think the one you ought to be worried about is Eddy. That little bastard,” she added. “I can’t believe I missed all the fun this morning. If he makes it through this weekend without one of us beating the snot out of him, it’ll be a miracle. I wouldn’t mind a piece of that myself.”

I glanced over at her then returned my eyes to the road. Kyla’s bulldog expression was a little wistful as though she really meant the last statement, which she probably did. I shot a second sideways glance at her soft leather purse and wondered if it still held her little Glock 19 that had once saved and taken a life with a single shot. I decided not to ask.

Although we were first cousins, the two of us looked enough alike to be sisters, the resemblance courtesy of our fathers, who were identical twins. Kyla, who would never admit to more than a remote family likeness, preferred to think of herself as unique and resented comments about our similarities. For my part, I would have been glad to look more like her because in her a trick of genetics had somehow transformed the family looks into real beauty. It didn’t hurt that she had an innate and classic sense of fashion and the income to support her taste. Even now, dressed for a Texas ranch, she somehow managed to look cool and stylish, long dark hair falling in perfect waves around her shoulders, a gold necklace looking rich against her soft yellow cashmere sweater. Even her jeans looked crisp and pressed. My hair was still yanked back in the same ponytail I’d made when I first woke up, my rumpled sweatshirt bore the University of Texas longhorn on a burnt orange background, and my jeans had a small stubborn coffee stain just above the knee from a long ago breakfast incident. I told myself that I didn’t care. I was, of course, lying.

I turned back onto the highway heading toward the Sand Creek feed store because, ever practical, Elaine had asked us to pick up a load of cattle cubes after we dropped Ruby June at her house. On the left side of the highway, an enormous green tractor was busy plowing the brown stubble of shorn winter wheat back into the earth, leaving a trail of rich dark soil behind it. On the other side, a single Mexican buzzard traced a lazy circle over a field dotted with goats and cacti, its primary feathers fluttering like fingers at the tips of black wings. In front of us, coming from the opposite direction, the driver of a white pickup truck lazily lifted a couple of his own fingers from the steering wheel as he sped by. I mimicked the laconic gesture.

“That someone we know?” asked Kyla.

“Didn’t recognize him,” I answered.

She rolled her eyes but then grinned. “You think they’d get tired of doing that. Still, it’s nice to be back out here. I forget sometimes how much I like it.”

“That’s because you don’t.”

“I like it,” she protested. “Lots. I just don’t like every single thing about it the way you do. I have discriminating taste.”

“You don’t like the heat or the cold, the bugs or the animals.”

“Well, who does?”

“You don’t like riding, hiking, hunting, fishing, camping, or picnicking.”

“Again … who does? Besides, I like picnicking okay.”

“Except for the heat, the cold, the bugs, and the animals.”

“Yeah, except for them. But so what? I’m here, right?”

I grinned at her. “You’re here.”

And right now, “here” was the town of Sand Creek. The single-lane highway widened into two lanes, and I slowed the truck to the posted speed limit of fifty, then forty-five, and finally thirty-five. Along the shoulders, small houses mostly painted white gave way to shops, restaurants, and gas stations in no particular order, followed again by a sprinkling of larger, older houses, some with mansard roofs and gingerbread trim and all surrounded by massive oak and pecan trees, limbs adorned by gray clumps of ball moss. We bumped across an abandoned train track and passed by the old train station, currently being restored to its former glory by an active, if underfunded, historical preservation society. Thanksgiving might be tomorrow, but that retail holy of holies, Christmas, was only a month away, and the storefronts lining the square were having an identity crisis. In one display, pilgrims nestled under boughs of holly, in another Frosty the Snowman towered over a faded turkey that looked as though it had just molted and wasn’t feeling well. In the center of the square, the courthouse, a massive buff-colored sandstone building complete with rounded turrets and a red roof topped by a clock tower, presided over the town as it had done for the last hundred and twenty years. The old hanging tree, famous as the site of countless legitimate hangings as well as a few lynchings, was located conveniently on the grounds. Workmen swarmed the area armed with staple guns and ornaments.

I sighed happily. “Nothing says Christmas like twinkle lights in a hanging tree.”

I maneuvered the truck around the square, pausing twice to wait for pedestrians to amble across the street, and then we were free and clear and picking up speed on the other side of town. On the western outskirts, we passed a funeral home with a marquee out front with the catchy slogan, “Drive Safe—We Can Wait.”

Kyla, who’d been unusually quiet, spoke at last. “So are you ever going to tell me what’s up with You-Know-Who?”

“Lord Voldemort?” I asked, knowing full well whom she meant.

The breadth and depth of her profanity was truly impressive and had, if anything, improved since our trip to Egypt. I waited until my ears stopped ringing and vision returned, then said, “If you mean Colin, then yes, thanks to you, he’s going to join us later.”

She sniffed. “Well, someone had to invite him. The boy was going to spend Thanksgiving alone.”

“You don’t know that. He could have gone to see his family, and I’m sure he had invitations from friends as well.”

Kyla half turned in her seat to stare at me.

“What is going on with you? You’re dating him, right?”

“We’ve been out a few times,” I admitted.

“And?”

“And nothing. We’re dating. But it’s only been a few weeks. Too soon to expose him to the Shores, that’s for sure.”

“He didn’t seem to think so. He accepted pretty promptly as I recall.”

I thought about that awkward little scene. We’d gone on a double date with Kyla and her current boyfriend, and the dinner conversation had turned to the upcoming holidays. Upon learning that Colin had not yet made plans for Thanksgiving, Kyla had issued an overexuberant invitation to the ranch, complete with gushing descriptions of the first-class quail and deer hunting, the party atmosphere, and the joy of family. Considering that she loathed every single thing she’d described and usually had to be dragged kicking and screaming the entire way, she’d done a good job of making it sound fun. It had been the look in Colin’s eyes, the half-wary, half-hopeful expression that had forced me to smile and second her invitation. Even then, I hadn’t actually expected him to accept, but he’d done so with pleasure. Too much pleasure. I had my doubts whether he understood the concept of taking things slowly, which was my condition for dating at all. And I was positive that Kyla did not.

She now proved it by saying, “I don’t get it. You’re not really still considering that idiot Alan, are you?”

My boyfriend Alan Stratton—the man I’d thought I might love. I’d met him while taking a tour of Egypt about six months earlier, which despite being interrupted by two murders, one robbery, and the machinations of a ruthless smuggling ring had turned out to be one of the best vacations of my life. Although I’d suspected Alan of being a criminal for a while and of being interested in Kyla for even longer, eventually he convinced me that I was wrong on both counts. We’d been dating since we returned, but things had not been going smoothly recently. And then, of course, I’d met Colin.

“Alan is not an idiot,” I said automatically. “He’s a good guy. I know it’s hard for you to believe, but I actually care about him. A lot. But that’s not the point here.”

“There’s a point?”

“Yes! The point is that Colin and I have only been dating—in a very casual way, I might add—for a few weeks. Sort of quick to take him home for Thanksgiving, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t. I invited Sherman, but he already had plane tickets to go see his folks. Anyway, what’s the big deal? Seems like it would be nice for the two of you to have some extra time together.”

“Maybe,” I said, “but it gives the wrong impression.”

Her blue eyes widened in mock horror. “Oh, no! Not the wrong impression. The family honor will be compromised. Whatever shall we do?”

I gritted my teeth and fleetingly wished that the truck had a passenger eject button.

“Anyway,” I said coldly, “Colin’s going to join us late this afternoon or early this evening. He had a few things to wrap up.”

“What kind of things? What could possibly be more important than the Shore family reunion?”

I hesitated, then finally decided on the truth. “He’s applying to the Texas Rangers. He’s taking some kind of test today.”

Kyla blinked. “You’re kidding. That’s kind of cool—Texas Ranger. I assume you mean the cop kind and not the baseball kind.”

“Yes, the cop kind,” I said. “When have you seen Colin playing baseball?”

She shrugged. “How would I know what he does in his spare time? He’d look good in those tight pants, though.”

That was true, but I was not going to give her the satisfaction of agreeing. “Anyway,” I said pointedly, trying to steer the conversation away from Colin’s pants, “he’ll be here as soon as he’s done.”

I could feel her beady eyes boring into my skull and kept my own virtuously on the road.

“You don’t sound pleased. About the test, I mean.”

I shrugged, unable to deny it. “Being a Texas Ranger isn’t a job, it’s a life. No fooling, those guys are on call every day, all day, always. Plus, being new, chances are he’ll be assigned to some region out in the boonies.”

“The boonies, huh? Is that anywhere near Bumfuck?”

“If only. People in the boonies dream of one day getting to go to Bumfuck.”

Kyla met this with a sympathetic click of the tongue. “That sucks. Why’s he trying to get into the Rangers anyway?”

I sighed. “It’s his childhood dream. You know, the goal of his life. Other kids wanted to be firemen or astronauts. He wanted to be a Texas Ranger.”

“Yeah, but he’s a big boy now. Doesn’t he have other better goals at this point?”

“No,” I answered shortly.

I could feel her looking at me again, but I didn’t say anything more. I didn’t quite know how to say that although Colin himself felt that a career change and move would not interfere with a potential relationship, I was not so sanguine. That even though I couldn’t bring myself to discourage his career aspirations to his face, secretly I was hoping he would fail his tests so spectacularly that future applicants would be warned against “pulling a Colin.” And that even as I hoped for it, I knew that he wouldn’t. There were few people as competent. Now I found myself in the completely unbelievable position of having two fairly spectacular men interested in me, and the worst part of it was that I had no idea what I wanted to do about it.

Fortunately, we arrived at our destination before Kyla could probe any further. I pulled into the parking lot of the Sand Creek Feed and Supply, a long, low building with a tin roof and two doors, one an open double-wide set of sliding doors that you could literally drive a truck through, and the other a more traditional size. No one was visible on the feed side, so I led the way through the smaller door.