Gone and Done It (10 page)

“Join the club, my dear. Social studies is not our friend.” Char dropped into a padded chrome chair and nodded toward the tiny TV on the kitchen counter. “You don’t have it on?”

I held her gaze. “No. I don’t.”

“We have to watch the news.” Charlotte’s chin jutted out. She sniffed the air. “Is that mac and cheese I smell?”

“Yep,” Larissa said. “Want some?”

“Of course. When have I ever passed up mac and cheese? But I insist we watch the news.”

“Why’s that?” Larissa chewed on her pencil.

“Because your mom and I were interviewed by the WAGN news crew today.”

Larissa’s jaw dropped. “Mom?”

For a split second, I had the thought of being a supercharged Kudzu vine and engulfing Charlotte, covering her colorful garments, and silencing her inquisitive mind with my dense foliage. I gave one last try to divert the tide of news. “It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing. And I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” Charlotte blushed. “Sorry for the pun. Unintentional. But you didn’t tell me about the new body. You told skanky Babs.”

I stilled. “Not true. She told the world. I didn’t tell anyone except the sheriff.”

“Wait.” Larissa tossed her pencil on the table. “What’s this about a new body? You found another dead person?”

The incredulous note in her voice made me wince. I rose and busied myself with pouring tea for my friend. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Anyone could have found that body. It just happened to be me.”

“Spill.” Charlotte grabbed my shirttail as I placed a glass of sweet tea in front of her. Charlotte and Larissa leaned forward in their seats.

Nothing to do but tell them the bare minimum. “I was watering the plants out at Mallow. One plant didn’t look right, so I tried to fix it. There was a body underneath.”

“And you didn’t pick up the phone and call me?” Charlotte asked.

“You didn’t transmit the news to me?” Larissa scowled, accusations swimming in her emerald green eyes, her father’s eyes. “You didn’t even mention it until Aunt Charlotte brought it up.”

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. I wouldn’t let them hang a guilt trip on me. “I planned to tell you later this evening, but I wanted to forget about it for a few hours. Other than the initial shock, it was no big deal. I handled it. I am a big girl.”

“Sounds like a big deal to me,” Charlotte said.

“Me too.” Larissa’s brows bunched. “I didn’t even sense a hint of trouble. How’d ya do that?”

I didn’t want to smile. It really wasn’t appropriate when we were talking about a dead person, but a wisp of a smile snuck out all the same. “I haven’t been entirely idle these last weeks. I figured out how to shield my thoughts better. Like I said, I handled it.”

An urgent knock sounded at the front door. Muffin barked and ran toward the door. Relieved by the distraction, I hurried to answer the summons. I peered through the peephole before opening the door. Muriel Jamison’s exotic features came into view.

Though we both had brown eyes and dark hair, I could never achieve that degree of smoldering with my eyes, that degree of poutiness with my lips, that degree of seductive vixen with my tousled locks. Muriel was a former landscaping client, and now that I thought about it, a friend of Carolina Byrd.

I swallowed around the lump in my throat and opened the door. “Muriel, what can I do for you?”

“You can start by answering my questions.” Muriel breezed past me, her silver bracelets jingling, her lilac-colored gauzy skirt billowing in her wake. She successfully navigated around the yipping dog, over the sliding rug in the hallway, and halted in the center of my living room, her jeweled fingers clenched in tight fists.

Her voice blared trumpet loud, “Why are they calling you the Deadly Landscaper on TV?”

Chairs scraped across the kitchen floor. Larissa and Charlotte peered around the corner, curiosity stamped on their faces. I had the sense that my world was coming unglued. Not good. This was so not good.

“None of this is my fault.” Given the circumstances, I thought I sounded very reasonable. “I don’t know why there are people buried out at Mallow. I didn’t put them there. I’m the unlucky sapsucker who found them.”

Muriel paced the living room in fits and starts. Muffin dove under the sofa to avoid getting trampled. I’d hide, too, if that would help. Waves of anger rolled off Muriel, polluting my house with an excess of negative emotion.

“This is unacceptable. Completely unacceptable.” Muriel’s haughty tone rubbed me like sandpaper. “Carolina’s very protective of her son’s condition. She won’t tolerate any publicity.”

“I understand, believe me, but I didn’t do anything wrong. Carolina insisted the plants were my responsibility until the job was completed. I was out there, at my own expense, watering her foundation plants. Some joker hid a body under my tree. I didn’t do it.”

Electricity snapped around Muriel. “Carolina isn’t a patient woman. She expected this situation out at Mallow to be resolved by now. Instead, you’ve turned her private retreat into a three-ring circus. Mark my words, if those Native Americans step foot on Mallow soil, she will have them arrested for trespassing.”

My emotions spiked. “Those Native Americans are exercising their constitutional rights of free speech. Even Carolina has to abide by our federal, local, and state laws.”

“Carolina is low profile.”

Did this woman think I was stupid? Breath huffed out of my nostrils. I fought for control of my temper. “I got that. I’m low profile, too. I didn’t seek out the television interview. I didn’t say anything about Mallow. I said nothing of any interest to anyone. Carolina’s friend, Dr. Bergeron, is working both cases. Once she finishes the forensic work, the sheriff will ID the killer, and this will all fade away. Carolina has nothing to worry about.”

Muriel stopped in front of me. Emotions writhed in her sphere. Her beautiful face tightened into a snarl. “Stay away from Mallow. She doesn’t want you out there. Not until this is settled.”

My blood ran hot and cold. Everything about this job was messed up. I wished I’d never signed a contract with Carolina Byrd. “What? Who will water the plants? I can’t afford to replace them.”

“The plants will be fine for a few days. They’re under warranty, right?”

A muscle in my cheek spasmed. She was right about the warranty; even so, if I had to replace the plants, I’d be out my labor and transportation costs. Or I could make a fool of myself and risk being arrested for trespassing. Putting things in perspective cooled my temper a bit. “If that’s what she wants, fine.”

Muriel left, narrowly avoiding the sheriff’s dark SUV as she sped off. I sagged against the doorframe, Charlotte and Larissa crowding in close. We watched through the screen door.

I blew out a deep breath. “Great. This day couldn’t get any worse. My client has barred me from her property, and now the sheriff has come to call.”

Wayne slammed the door on his Jeep and strode our way. His gold badge caught a late afternoon sunbeam, nearly blinding me.

“He looks pissed,” Charlotte observed.

With each step he took, dread clotted in my veins. My hand went to my chest. “I’ve got a very bad feeling about this.”

Charlotte and Larissa stepped back when I opened the screen door for Wayne. “Yes? Has there been a breakthrough in the case?”

A second police car pulled into my grassy driveway. Adrenaline rushed though me. Whispers arose from my subconscious.
Run. Run while you’ve still got the chance.

I struggled for composure. My hand strayed to my green pendant. My shields bolstered, warmth flowed into my icy veins.

Wayne nodded tersely toward Larissa. “Send the kid into the kitchen.”

His command brought a fresh chill to my bones. Everything was turning to crap today. But in this house, I was in charge. Things went the way I wanted them to go. It was time I asserted my authority. “The
kid
has a name. Larissa stays. What is this about?”

He stood too close, his strong cologne choking the breath from me. “Step outside, Baxley.”

My heart raced as I obeyed the curt command. On the shaded porch, I met Wayne’s dark gaze. “I don’t understand.”

Virg huffed up the steps with a crisply folded paper bag in one beefy hand. Wayne reached inside the sack. He pulled out a trowel. One decorated with bright paw prints. “Does this belong to you?”

Recognition flamed my cheeks. “Where’d you find it? I’ve been missing that trowel for a few weeks.”

“Two weeks?”

“Could be. I didn’t notice it was gone until I went to use it to plant some late pansies in my backyard. I couldn’t find it anywhere. Did I leave it at your house?”

His gaze shuttered. “You’ll have to come to the station with me.”

I groped behind me for the screen-door handle, stepping back until my fingers latched onto the cool metal surface. “I can’t leave. Dinner is in the oven. I have a kid.”

Wayne clamped a beefy palm on my shoulder. “Charlotte can stay with your kid. If you don’t want her to babysit, I’ll call your parents.”

His anger channeled into me, overloading my senses. I tried to block him, but with the bridge of his hand on me, I couldn’t stop the transmission of emotion. His anger burned white hot.

This conversation had a surreal feel to it. I had the sense of observing and experiencing events simultaneously. Fear thickened like day-old gravy in my gut.

I glanced over at my best friend, not knowing how to ask. “I can stay,” Charlotte said. “We’ll be fine.”

“Thanks.” My voice sounded husky, like it belonged to someone else.

Wayne propelled me toward his Jeep. Outwardly, I complied. Inwardly, my thoughts tumbled like laundry. Something was very wrong here. My head felt so heavy I was amazed it didn’t fall off my shoulders. Moisture dampened my hairline, spine, and palms.

I found my voice. “What does my trowel have to do with anything?”

“The dead woman’s blood is on it,” he said.

My pulse stalled. I forced a sip of air in my lungs. “Blood?”

“It also contains fingerprints.”

Time froze. “Prints? Whose prints?”

“Yours.”

Trembling, I hunched forward in my seat, hugging my middle. My heart raced, and I could barely make sense of anything. One thing I knew for sure. This sucked. I didn’t kill anyone. I was innocent. But Wayne hadn’t looked at me like I was innocent. He’d looked at me like I was the crud stuck in the crook of the sink drain.

“Am I under arrest?” I asked.

“You should be. Right now you’re considered a person of interest.” Wayne sped onto the highway, the rapid acceleration pressing me back into the cloth seat. His stinky cologne overpowered the small space. I tried to breathe around it.

“I’ve got blood and your fingerprints on an item that was found with the murder victim,” he said.

“Murder?” The word came out as a whisper. My fingers fisted, the blunt edges of my short fingernails biting into my palms. I’d never felt more alone in my life. There was no white knight to sweep in and save the day. Roland was gone. I was supposed to be taking care of things, but I wasn’t even taking care of myself.

I could go to jail for this. That’s what someone wanted. Why else would my trowel be in the dirt with a dead woman? I was supposed to take the fall.

I wouldn’t have to worry about making ends meet in jail. Someone would take care of me there. Shivers raced up and down my spine. They’d tell me when to eat, where to sleep. They’d cover my room and board. All I’d have to do is go along with the program and stay mentally shielded the rest of my life.

And forget I had a brain or a responsibility to my daughter. And my parents. I couldn’t let them down, either. I had to pull myself together. First I worked on a steady supply of air coming in. Then I tried to figure out what Wayne knew and got nothing but anger. Wouldn’t it be handy if I could read his mind instead of the pissed-off emotions he was broadcasting?

“That woman was murdered?” I asked. “With my trowel? How is that even possible?”

“Hold up. We can’t have this discussion in the car. Wait until we get back to the office.”

The office.

He meant the jail. I’d spent too much time at the jail already. It was not a place I liked to visit. “You know I didn’t do this. It doesn’t make any sense. Why would I kill anyone? I’m a single parent, for goodness sake. I don’t even know who this person is. Why would I go around killing people I don’t know? It doesn’t make any sense.”

He floored the accelerator. “People under stress don’t act like themselves.”

Was he trying to kill us? “I’ve been living here a year and a half. I’ve been under the same amount of stress the entire time. You’ve seen me at my worst already.”

“You saying you don’t think you’re capable of killing anyone?”

“Yes!” Relief surged through me like a fire hose. Finally. He understood. I was not a murderer. I was a mom.

He shook his head. “You’re wrong. Given the right motivation, every person on this planet would kill. You’d kill to protect your kid.”

“Leave Larissa out of this.” My insides iced. I waved my hand dismissively. “This is ridiculous.”

“This is reality. Law enforcement officers put their butts on the line every day. Some days we get bit on the butt. Some days we bite back.”

Miles slid past in a blur. Tears rolled unchecked down my face. Where the hell was my husband? Why couldn’t he come home and take care of this mess? Why did all the crap fall on me? When would it be his turn to take care of our family? When?

I was sick and tired of being the responsible one.

But what choice did I have? Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to mix me up in the middle of this. I wasn’t going down without a fight.

They’d learn not to mess with Baxley Powell. I’d figure this out, and I’d kick killer butt all the way to the Atlantic Ocean. They might think I was a defenseless female, but I had my talents, my family, and my pendant.

I’d beat them at their own game.

“I didn’t kill anyone. Why don’t you people understand that?” I smacked my palms on the metal tabletop for emphasis. It was getting harder and harder to breathe in this small room. What I wouldn’t give for a baggie of potting soil to sniff right now.