Hot Water (11 page)

This time the silence went on so long that he wondered if she’d hung up and he’d missed the click. “Mom?”

“Have I ever told you how proud I am of you?”

What the heck did that have to do with anything? He rolled his eyes, glad she wasn’t there to see him. They needed to help Jeremy
now
.

She continued, “Did you tell anyone about all this?”

“I never had a chance. The police took Jeremy away and the ambulance guys were working on Flora and—”

“You need to tell Elizabeth. Everything. I’ll call Ty and make sure he has someone watching the house.”

“I don’t want to stay here. I want to go to the hospital, keep an eye on Flora.” He looked over his shoulder, thought he saw movement, but it was just the curtain waving in the breeze. “Mom, why would someone want to hurt Gram Flora?”

“It could be that they wanted to hurt Jeremy.”

He liked that she didn’t try to convince him that he was wrong. “Why? Because he’s gay?”

“Some folks have a hard time with that. Did you see anyone around the house today?”

“No. But Jeremy did tell me a few guys tried to beat him up last week when he was over in Beckley.”

“Really? Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Because you’d try to do something about it and it would only get folks riled up and make things worse. Like the time those guys ran into his truck with their SUV when you were at the Tractor Supply in Smithfield. You almost got arrested; terrorist threats, remember?”

“They were the terrorists. Red-neck thugs—forget I said that,” she added hastily. “Okay, you and Elizabeth go to the hospital and stay the night there—or at Elizabeth’s house. I don’t want you out of her sight, you understand?”

There she went, treating him like a baby. Again. “Mom—”

“Don’t ‘mom’ me. Please. Don’t make me come all the way home just to babysit you—”

“C’mon. You’re not serious.” Now he was getting angry. Again.

“David. You are a very smart and very capable boy. But you need to promise me that you’ll let the grownups handle this, okay?”

No, it wasn’t okay. What would it take to prove to them that he could take care of himself? But as always, he knew better than to argue.

“Okay. I’ll tell Elizabeth.”

“Thank you. Tell her to call me as soon as the doctors say anything.”

“I will.”

“I love you.”

He hung up wanting to repeat it back to her, but he just couldn’t. Saying stuff like that was for babies.

I stared at the phone. David had hung up on me. The little brat. If I wasn’t so worried that I’d shout at him or say the wrong thing, I’d have called him right back and taught him a lesson about manners. Especially after scaring me half to death. Of course, he was probably scared as well, even though he refused to show it.

Which didn’t make me feel any better. Instead it made me feel worse, trapped here like a caged animal, sweltering in a box, unable to breathe or move or do anything to help my family.

Instead of hurling the phone out the window like I wanted, I forced myself to dial another number.

“AJ, give me a second,” Ty’s voice came along with the sound of a car’s engine. Then the sound of four-way blinkers, and I knew he’d pulled off the road to talk to me. Ty liked to play by the rules—law and order and all that. “Everyone’s okay.”

I loved how his simple statement wove its way through the airwaves to engrave itself on my heart as the truth. Like I’d only half believed until I heard Ty—someone I could trust with everyone dear to me—say it.

Yet, I still questioned him. “Are you sure?”

I felt his shrug and eye roll. What can I say? I’m stubborn and skeptical and can’t help but question everything. Which he knew and understood without arguing. Unlike my own son.

“I’m sure.”

“Jeremy can’t have done this.”

He made a noncommittal grunt—one of his cop noises.

“What are the police doing to investigate?” I persisted, determined that they wouldn’t make Jeremy into a scapegoat. If he was innocent, I couldn’t help but add. I liked Jeremy, but how much did I actually know about him? Could I trust my gut instincts about him?

“The guys took a sample of his stomach contents and they’re taking him to the hospital for lab work before they book him. But it will all take time before we know anything.”

“He was set up.”

“Any ideas who would want to hurt him?”

I told Ty about the encounter we’d had in Smithfield and what David had said about the men in Beckley.

“Why didn’t you report it?”

“Jeremy wouldn’t let me.” I hesitated, then confessed, “He wanted to walk away and if we had, everything would have been fine. I’m the one who got pissed off and escalated things. There were witnesses. He was afraid I’d end up in trouble.”

“Good to know one of you has some common sense.”

“Are you going to check them out or not?”

“I am. But going from a parking lot brawl to framing Jeremy for hurting Flora, switching meds, knowing how to incapacitate him without raising an alarm that Elizabeth or David would have heard—that’s pretty darn sophisticated.”

He was right. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Targeting Jeremy this way—it feels personal. Has he had any recent relationships that have ended badly?”

“There was one earlier this summer that had him upset. But I don’t know any names. He’s very discreet.”

“This case you and Elizabeth are working on. Would she have left anything sensitive at Flora’s or at the summerhouse? Maybe this was all a ruse to get her out of the way while she dealt with Flora and everything.”

“No. Everything is public knowledge. Except the plans for Grandel’s plant—but he’s kept those with him at all times, would only let us look at them, not copy them.”

“But they’d be worth stealing?”

I thought about it. Grandel had convinced the government that his—or rather Morris’s—design was good enough that they’d invested millions of dollars in it, and now he had foreign partners ready to invest. “Yeah, they’d be worth a lot. Millions or more.”

He made a small noise. His thinking noise. “It’s a long shot, but I’ll talk to Elizabeth about it. Any other cases you two are working that might have anything to do with this?”

“Nothing that Jeremy or Flora have anything to do with.” Our only other case was Masterson’s request for visitation rights. There’s no way sending Jeremy to jail or making Flora sick could affect whether or not he saw David on weekends.

“Okay. I’ll let you know if I learn anything.”

“Ty—”

“As soon as my shift is over, I’ll pick up David.”

I loved how he didn’t make me ask. Just talking to him made me feel calmer. “Do you think I should come home? You didn’t think I should come down here in the first place.”

“I think I can’t tell you what to do. Other than to trust us to take care of things here. Including David.”

“Did you hear what he did? How he saved Flora?”

“He’s a pretty resourceful young man.” The pride in his voice matched my own.

“He thinks I’m over protective and treat him like a baby.”

No answer. Then, “Maybe he’s right. Give him some space.”

“Right now he’s got about five hundred miles of it. And it’s driving me crazy.”

That made him chuckle. A warm noise, like the sound of a trout jumping in the river catching the sun as it leapt. “You’d be just as upset if you were here, only you’d be driving us crazy as well. Relax. We’ve got it covered.”

“Call me—”

“I will.” Another pause. This one felt awkward, like neither of us wanted to be the first to break the connection. The sound of the police radio crackled in the background. “I have to go. Bye.”

He was gone. Suddenly five hundred miles felt like the other end of the universe. And I was all alone.

Hutton watched from the shadows on the porch. The kitchen windows were open, so it was easy to eavesdrop. The woman, the lawyer, she seemed more in control finally. But the boy—he was impressive. The way he’d handled the two downed victims, the way he pieced everything together so quickly.

Bright kid. No wonder Masterson wanted him under his control instead of ditzy AJ Palladino’s.

Hutton remembered AJ from way back when. She’d been a wild child, hanging around with one of the Stillwater boys and Masterson’s son—the son she’d gotten killed a few months ago when she returned to Scotia. He hadn’t liked her then and he hadn’t liked her when she was splashed all over the news as a champion of the people when she’d won that big case against Capitol Power.

There was a price to pay for being cocky. AJ had fallen hard. Come crawling back home.

The lawyer turned the kitchen light off, leaving Hutton in a deeper darkness.

For a hit man who specialized in making his jobs appear as accidents, it was all about the thrill of the hunt. No messy explosions, no collateral damage. Hutton prided himself in his precise surgical strikes—so precise that he’d never appeared as even a blip on any lawman’s radar.

Some in his business would say he was wrong to target the old woman, that taking out the gay guy would have done the job. Masterson sure as hell would have preferred it that way—he hated the idea of his grandson having anything to do with a man like Jeremy Miller. But, the way Hutton figured, the old had already had their chance. Best to give the young a break. Which is why he’d left Jeremy alive.

Flora, he’d thought for sure she was a goner. But the kid had saved her.

That would teach Hutton not to be too cocky—something he tried always to guard against, but when you outsmarted everyone with every job you did, it was difficult to remain humble.

He listened as the kid and lawyer made their way out of the house and down to the cars. At first he hadn’t been too interested in Masterson’s assignment, but now, thanks to the kid, this job was getting interesting.

THIRTEEN

My first instinct was to get in Grandel’s SUV and hit the road, head on home. But that wouldn’t solve anything.

I couldn’t clear Jeremy’s name; only Ty and Elizabeth could help him. I couldn’t help Gram Flora; she was in good hands with the doctors. And David had made it clear that he didn’t want me there to worry and fuss over him.

All I could do was stay here and finish the job I’d started. The job that meant my family’s future.

The logic was simple. That didn’t mean I had to like it. I couldn’t bear the thought of sitting in solitary confinement, waiting to hear news that wouldn’t come for hours, so I decided to take a walk.

As soon as I opened the door, the night unleashed a black-fisted punch of heat that almost forced me back inside. I realized I wouldn’t be making it very far. Not that there was anywhere to go. The motel sat by itself—the only other building in sight on the lonely road was a gas station that had gone out of business, about a quarter mile away. I hadn’t even heard a car drive past since I arrived.

The sun had set but somehow the temperature was still rising, so the night offered no sanctuary from the heat. Instead of heading out to the road, I turned my steps toward the small café next to the motel office, hoping it was open.

As I walked, I noticed that there was one other car parked in the guest lot—a rental. I pushed open the door to the café. There, sitting at a small lunch counter, surrounded by bags of pecans, jugs of cherry and peach cider, and a bunch of South Carolina–themed knick-knacks—most of them featuring alligators or pirates—was a short man with a simmering gaze, enjoying a bottle of beer.

“AJ Palladino, as I live and breathe,” he called out, raising his bottle in a welcoming toast. “I had a feeling you might show up around here.”

I was surprised to see that he was wearing the same plain white shirt and black trousers as the protestors I’d met earlier. Last time I’d seen Yancey he’d been wearing a fancy suit and pitching a TV show to Hollywood execs.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, taking a seat beside him. “What happened to your all-girl eco-militia?”

He heaved a sigh, but his eyes glittered with avarice. Yancey had reminded me of Charles Manson the first time we met—now more than ever, despite his newly acquired homespun demeanor. “When the show got canceled, the money left and so did they. It’s just me on this gig.”