Dirty Rotten Scoundrel (4 page)

The courthouse sat in the center of the county square—Gothic and intimidating
—three full stories of carved stone and hallowed hallways of generations past. The goddesses of justice and mercy loomed at each corner, but unless you knew who they were supposed to be there was no way to recognize them, considering the sculptor must have been drunk and had a fetish for hunchbacked gargoyle-looking women.

The police station sat to the left of the courthouse, much more sedate in appearance—a pale bricked building shaped like a rectangle that hadn’t been updated since 1973. The fire station sat to the right, looking much like every other fire station in the state of Virginia.

Jack parked in his assigned spot in front of the station but left the motor running so I could run the fingerprints inside to Colburn.

“I’m not sure you should be using this space—which is clearly reserved for a servant of the city—while you’re on vacation.” I batted my eyelashes at Jack playfully and opened the car door. “There has to be some kind of ordinance against it.”

“If not, it’s probably your civic duty to propose one at the next city council meeting.” Jack’s gaze was amused.

King George County had a reputation of passing ordinances that made absolutely no sense whatsoever—like not allowing pets to be the sole heir to a fortune or not allowing people inside the city limits to water their lawns after five o’clock on a Thursday.

“You never know. In the next couple of months, this parking spot might belong to someone else.”

“It’s a good thing I’m marrying you for your money then.” I brought my legs back inside the car and closed the door. “Is it bothering you?” I asked. “The possibility of losing the election?”

“No. Not really. I’m more worried about winning the election.”

I watched him carefully for a couple of minutes, but he stared straight ahead, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. And then it hit me like a bolt of lightning. “You don’t
want to be Sheriff.”

He shrugged. “I like being a cop. And being Sheriff here served its purpose after I left the city and came back to recover. But the politics
in this town pisses me off and it feels like I’m settling more disputes among the city council and the mayor’s office than doing any real police work. Especially since the investigation started on the Aryan Nation. It’s been a clusterfuck considering half the damn people sitting in seats of some importance have been removed or arrested.”

Only a couple of weeks before
we’d uncovered a decades long secret in our small town of hate and prejudice, and it took the death of one of the ministers at the Presbyterian church for it to all be uncovered.

“
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been seriously considering a few of the offers that have come my way.”

I didn’t know what to say. I was speechless. And embarrassed that I hadn’t noticed his dissatisfaction before. “God, Jack. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“I don’t really have anything to complain about. And I’m not really dissatisfied. This is familiar and I have good men and women under my command. Sometimes I just miss the thrill. The adrenaline rush. It wasn’t an easy change going from SWAT in a city like DC, where business is booming and you’re living for that adrenaline high that each op brings. There’s nothing like it. But coming here—it was like doing ninety miles an hour and then slamming on the brakes. I guess I needed it at the time—mentally as well as physically—but it’s started to bother me more than usual lately.”

“I’m sorry.” I put my hand on his and squeezed gently. “You know I’m okay with whatever you want to do. If you want to make a change.”

He smiled and squeezed my hand back. “I’m not going to think about it too much for the next six weeks. Maybe I just need a break and I’ll feel differently once I come back. Or maybe I really am worried about the election. I’ve pissed off a lot of people since I’ve been sheriff.”

“Most of them
are the single women who are going to be heartbroken you’re no longer available.”

“You mean I have to stop dating now that we’re together?” he asked, the outraged shock clear on his face.

I snorted out a laugh and opened the car door again. “You’d better. Or Colburn will be investigating your murder next. Though it shouldn’t be too hard to figure out how you died with all my embalming equipment hooked up to your twitching body.”

“Harsh, Doctor Graves. And inventive. Your intelligence and creativity continue to turn me on.”

“Jesus. You’re sick.”

“Maybe you can cure me later.”

“It’s going to rain again,” Jack said as we parked in front of Martha’s Diner. “At least before dark.”

“It must be your farming skills that make you predict the weather wit
h such accuracy.” Jack came from a long line of tobacco farmers, but for the past two generations the Lawson men hadn’t spent a lot of time out in the fields working the land. They mostly just enjoyed investing their money and pursuing the things that interested them.

Jack grinned and we got out of the Suburban and headed inside.
Grilled onions and grease assaulted us as soon as we walked through the doors and conversation came to a stand still. It was right in the middle of the lunch rush, so the silence made quite an impact.

Jack and I made our way to one of the turquoise Formica tables and the voices whooshed into conversation again. The vinyl seats were crack
ed with age and I let Jack have the side that faced the entryway. He hated sitting with his back to a door.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Martha Smith swung out of the kitchen with half a dozen plates stacked on her arms and managed to make it look graceful as she dropped off food from table to table.

She’d been serving burgers and giving hell to her customers for sixty years. I had no idea how old she was, but her hair was dyed fire engine red and the lines on her face were deep and numerous. Her lipstick matched her hair and her dingy white apron wrapped twice around her tiny frame.

“Long time no see, Sheriff. Doc Graves.” She nodded to us both and whipped out the ragged pad she kept in her apron pocket. “Though can’t say I blame y
a. I’ve heard nothing for the past two weeks but how the two of you were shacked up together living in sin. That’s the best way if you ask me.”

She pursed her lips and arched a penciled brow. “I always thought sin was way more fun than marriage. Husbands are a pain in the ass. I should know since I’ve had four of them. And then I managed to birth eight boys who aren’t any better at marriage than their fathers were. Though I’m not sure Jimmy belonged to any of my husbands. He never has been right in the head and he was conceived about the time that traveling revival came through town.”

I kept my head buried in one of the plastic menus that sat behind the miniature jukeboxes on the table.

“You think I’m going to be a pain in the ass, Jaye?” Jack asked. I could hear the smile in his voice.

“More than likely. You’ve been doing a pretty good job of it for the last thirty years. You might as well continue the streak for the next fifty or so.”

Marta cackled and slapped her notepad on her thigh. “Well I’ll be. Does that mean congratulations are in order? I sure as hell hope so. I’ve got fifty bucks riding on the two of you.”

“We’re still in the planning stages,” Jack said tactfully. “But we plan to get married soon.”

“How come I don’t see a ring? It’s not legitimate until there’s a ring on your finger
, girl. I thought you knew better than that.”

I looked up long enough to na
rrow my eyes at Jack and glare, but he just winked back at me. “We’ll take two burgers made how we like them and the fries crispy. Iced tea to drink.”

“
Humph,” Martha said. “You can’t keep it a secret for long. Good thing your mama is coming in to pick up an order soon. I’ll get all the details from her.”

Jack and I looked at each other and froze, my eyes widening in panic.
Jack didn’t ruffle easy, and if I didn’t know him so well I wouldn’t have been able to see the
Oh, shit
look on his face beneath the placid façade.

Martha
hmphed
again and went off to the kitchen.

“I take it you haven’t mentioned marriage to your mother,” I asked
stiffly. My feelings were hurt, though I wasn’t completely sure why considering I hadn’t been all that much in favor of it to begin with.

“Actually, I have,” he said. “Several months ago
, as a matter of fact.”

“I’m sorry? What?” I shook my head hoping it would clear the cobwebs and things would start to make sense.
“We weren’t even together months ago.”

“I remember,” he said, lips twitching. “You were hurt and hiding. It didn’t seem like the time to bring it up. But my mother knows me well and knew I was about at the end of my rope as far as waiting for you. She’ll be thrilled. I’d just hoped to tell her without dozens of ears listening in on the conversation.”

Martha brought back our drinks and burgers in no time and we settled in to eat. About that time the front door opened again and Jack’s mother walked inside. Mrs. Lawson was a tiny woman—maybe an inch over five feet—and it never ceased to amaze me that she’d managed to produce a son the size of Jack. Her hair was as dark as her son’s, but her eyes were a blue so pale it was almost startling. Her skin was smooth and the lines around her eyes hinted at good humor and a lot of laughter.

Jack got up from the booth and intercepted her in a big bear hug before she could reach the counter and the bags of food waiting there for her. He plucked her right off the ground and squeezed her tight. I couldn’t hear wha
t he said but whatever it was made her laugh.

“Put me down you fool
, and let me say hi to J.J.” Mrs. Lawson swatted him on the shoulder and he sat her gently on her feet. “How’s my girl doing?” she asked, bending down to wrap me in her arms.

The endearment made me smile. I’d be
en
her girl
for as long as I could remember. She’d always been the one I’d gone to when my feelings had been hurt or I had scrapes or bruises to get cleaned up—which was often considering I hung out with a pack of boys most of my childhood. It had been her shoulder I cried on after my first broken heart and she’d been the one to walk me through the embarrassment of my first period. My own mother had always been too busy with work, which I knew now consisted of smuggling items hidden in the bodies that moved in and out of the funeral home.

“I’m doing good,” I said
, squeezing her back, maybe a little harder and more desperate than I meant to. She leaned back and took my face between her hands and studied me long and hard, and then she nodded in what I assumed was satisfaction.

“When are you going to make an honest man out of my son?” She scooted into the booth next to me and gave me an impish smile.

“Apparently soon if your son has anything to say about it.”

“I can’t tell you how nervous it makes me for you bot
h to be staring at me like that,” Jack said.

“Good,” she nodded. “
Make sure you get your Great-Grandmother Lawson’s ring. People will start to talk if she doesn’t have a ring on her finger.”

“I’m on it,” Jack said. “How come you never wore
the Lawson ring? I’d never really thought much about it until I pulled it out the other day to look at.”

“I told you your father and I eloped.” She turned to look at me with a sparkle in her eyes
and a mischievous tilt to her mouth. “A group of us ended up in Las Vegas for a weekend, and Rich and I certainly knew each other but we weren’t exactly in a romantic relationship if you know what I mean.”

Jack groaned and I couldn’t help but smile at his discomfort.

“Needless to say, there was something about Sin City that changed things between the two of us,” she went on. “We found ourselves married by the time the trip was over. Rich bought me this ring at the chapel where we married.” She held out her hand and I looked at the gold band with barely a chip of a diamond in the center.

“He was barely twenty-one at the time and hadn’t come into his trust fund yet, so it was what he could afford. By the time we got back home and explained everything to our parents
, I’d gotten attached to it and didn’t want to wear the Lawson ring. Not to mention your father would’ve had to pry that ring off your grandmother’s cold dead hand before she gave it to me willingly. I always thought that ring was too good for her anyway. Good thing she died before you came along, J.J.”

“Wow
, Mom. Why don’t you tell us how you really feel?” Jack said.

Mrs. Lawson smiled at her son and stole a fry off his plate.

“So she wouldn’t have liked me?” I asked, wondering how big of an impact marriage would make on his respectable family—a family that came from old money and traditions.

“That woman didn’t like anyone. A very disagreeable person
in general, but she had a ton of money and the marriage made good sense businesswise. You’re just what we need in this family to shake things up a bit.” She waggled her eyebrows comically. “Jack’s uncles and cousins are a little staid. Meaning they’re boring as hell. We try not to see them very often. That’s why we travel so much over the holidays.”

“A good tradition for us to start too,” Jack agreed.

Mrs. Lawson scooted out of the booth. “I’ve got to get back to the house with the food before your father sends a search party after me. Congratulations to you both.” She bent down and hugged Jack tightly. “It’s about damned time if you ask me.” She leaned down to hug me again too and whispered in my ear, “I always thought of you as a daughter. It’ll be nice to make it permanent.”

Tears stung my eyes as she left money on the counter and grabbed her food. “She’s a good mom,” I said.

“The best.”

We finished up our food in silence and Jack left a generous tip with the bill. We snuck out while Martha was busy in the kitchen so we couldn’t get waylaid again.

“So how do you feel about eloping?” Jack asked when we got back in the Suburban.

“If it means there’s no one there but you and me and we get to have sex afterwards then I’m all for it.
”

“I can almost guarantee there will be sex afterward. Probably several times.” He pulled out of the parking lot and headed in the opposite direction on Queen Mary, away from the funeral home and the rest of town. It took us higher in elevation, the trees becoming denser and the houses fewer and farther between.
Only one road intersected with Queen Mary on this side of town—Heresy Road.

If we’d turned left it would’ve taken us back to the house I’d grown up in—the house where I’d seen the ghost of my father the day before. It seemed like a lifetime ago. But instead of turning left toward my past, Jack turned right. Toward my future.

Jack’s house—our house—jutted up from the cliff majestically, as if it were part of the landscape itself. It was a log cabin of two stories, but not like any cabin I’d seen before. The logs were smoothed to an amber gleam and grey stone chimneys rose from each end of the house. A wide porch wrapped around all sides. There weren’t many windows in the front, but the back of the house was nothing but windows that looked out over towering trees so thick you couldn’t see the river below. It was more space than we needed. Even if we someday filled it with children it would be too much.

Most people underestimated Jack. They saw him as the son of wealthy tobacco farmers, a little reckless and with a temper that
had plagued him when he was younger. They saw him as someone who craved the wild side of life, fast cars and fast women, but with a sharp and complex brain that made him a great cop. He had Master’s Degrees in both criminal justice and psychology.

But what they didn’t know about Jack was that he loved his solitude—his quiet spot on the side of a cliff that was completely private and closed off from the outside world.
He liked good wine and intelligent conversation. And when he needed to think something through, he more likely than not did it in the kitchen cooking something that would make the mouth salivate and tastebuds explode.

I’d been thinking about the body that had washed up on shore. It was pu
zzling, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious to know more about it.

“
I keep thinking about the victim,” I said. “There was nothing familiar about him? Other than the tattoo, I mean?”

Jack was busy removing the boxes from the back of the Suburban and I joined in to help.

“It’s not like I could ID him from his face. It’s been six years since I was SWAT. I’ve stayed in touch with my brothers over the years, but we all have our own lives, our own families. Some transferred to other cities. A couple have passed away over the last few months. The rest are scattered here and there. Only a couple stayed with the team.”

“It was that bad?” I asked, referring to the last op that had left Jack fighting for his life.

He looked at me out of somber eyes, his face blank of emotion. It was the same face he used whenever we were at a crime scene. A face that didn’t want anyone to know what he was thinking or feeling.

“Yeah, i
t was that bad.”