Killer Moves: The 4th Jolene Jackson Mystery (Jolene Jackson Mysteries) (12 page)

Adding to my shock and awe, was the fact that the master suite took up the entire right side of the house and was probably bigger than the whole house my ex-husband Danny and I’d lived in when the kids were little. Of course, the other two bedrooms and bathrooms where Doris and Lucille would stay were nothing to sneeze at either. They took up most of the far left side of the house and were each bigger than most master bedrooms in regular houses. It was truly hard to comprehend.

Emmajean whisked me through the entire house in less than five minutes, streaming facts and details without taking a breath. There was no way I’d remember everything—or maybe anything—but she had confirmed that the lower part of the house was around 3600 square feet and brand new, never lived in. It was built into the hill, which made the front wall of windows and doors by the pool the only way in or out. The center area of the house consisted of the kitchen and living room, which were located on the nearest outer wall. Beyond the kitchen was a dining area, and beyond that an office on the back wall that had French doors for light and privacy. On the other side of the living room, to the right of the office and along the back, was a media room. Yes, a media room. A freakin’ big one with cushy theater-like chairs and cup holders. In another location it would be my dream home. In Kickapoo, Texas, it was just confusing.

“Miss Jolene? Are you okay?”

As the words registered, I blinked and saw Emmajean standing before me with a concerned look on her face. I had apparently mentally stepped out for a moment, but had no idea about when or why. Feeling chilled, as if I’d walked into a freezer, I rubbed my arms. “Just a lot to take in.” Shaking away the fog, I added, “The home is absolutely stunning and I am quite honored to get to stay here for a while.”

Emmajean cocked her head. “Oh, honey, this is your home. It’s not going anywhere. The way it all happened probably has you feeling like a coyote in a trap, but don’t gnaw your leg off just yet. There’s good in this for you, something you need to make peace with—inside and out—and the sooner you accept that, the easier it’s going to be for you.”

No, no and no. My head started to spin and I started to shake. “I…I…”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Emmajean said. “You go on now and get your things. Clove’s got the trailer hooked up and waiting for you. He’ll be pacing like a caged cougar if you don’t get out there. And don’t you worry, I’ll take good care of the women when they get here.”

I did as directed, again wondering why I was the one taking orders from the people who supposedly now worked for me. It was one of a long list of mysteries yet to be solved.

Chapter 14

I’d expected Clove’s truck to reek of cigarettes, but it didn’t, and thankfully he also refrained from lighting one up on our five-minute ride down the hill to Mother’s.

The dust hadn’t even had time to settle on the boxes I’d stacked yesterday and now they were moving again. In truth, I couldn’t even tell you what was in most of them at this point even though I’d only packed them up a few days ago. They’d seemed vitally important at the time—tangible reminders of my true identity and life reality to keep me grounded in an unreal world. I still needed that. But I also knew that no matter how hard I wished it to be true, what I needed wasn’t in one of those boxes.

While Clove backed the trailer in to the garage, I ran inside the house to get the key to the storage room. All I can say is that he must be a hell of a driver, because when I got back a minute later he was sitting on the fender, smoking a cigarette. Hope he had a plan for his smoldering leftovers, because leaving it in Lucille’s yard is a hanging offense.

I opened the storeroom, showed him the stacks of boxes and we started carrying them to the trailer.

“If it’s marked so I can tell, I’ll put it where it goes, like these marked office. Otherwise, everything’s going in the garage on your side.”

“That would be great. Hey, speaking of that, I’d like to get a door opener for that so I can put my car inside tonight.”

“There’s no room for your car,” he said, walking to the trailer.

I grabbed a box and followed, preparing to explain to him that we were just going to have find a way to make room since I had been assigned to live there. When we got back to the house, I’d be telling him how the cow ate the cabbage, giving him a what-for and a… I froze in my tracks, panic flooding me.
It’s already happening!
The Kickapoo effect had already lowered my IQ by twenty points and I was spontaneously thinking in Lucille-ese. “Dammit.”

“Don’t be getting your feathers ruffled,” Clove said, cigarette dangling from his lips. “I’ll show you what we can do about that later.”

Good, because the whole cow and cabbage thing was a bit confusing anyway.

There weren’t that many boxes so it didn’t take us long to get them loaded onto the trailer. Since we weren’t going far, Clove stacked them in so he didn’t have to use any ties.

“Most of my personal stuff is in the house, so I’ll need a few minutes to gather things up and repack my suitcases.”

He nodded and took a drag on his cigarette. “We have time.”

Maybe Clove wasn’t going to be so bad after all. I turned and headed to the back porch.

Boom!

I snapped around toward the sound. Clove had already jumped to his feet and was staring off behind the garage. “Can you see anything? Did something happen over at the project site?”

Clove stared for a few seconds then said something that sounded like “Oh, shit.” He flung his cigarette to the ground and ran to the truck, jumped inside, slammed it in gear and flew out of the driveway, the loaded trailer bouncing along behind.

“Wait!” I yelled, instinctively running after him. “Stop, dammit! You’re going to lose the boxes!”

Boom!

I jumped around, and then I saw it. A thick column of black smoke boiled up in the distance. And it wasn’t coming from the oil tanks or pump jacks—it was coming from the hill.

I don’t know how long I stood there. It seemed like a long time, although I knew it was only seconds. By the time my conscious mind caught up, I was standing at the storeroom door, pulling it closed. I flipped the hasp into place and clicked the padlock shut then turned around and started to run… Where? I stopped myself. What was I going to do? Follow on foot? Call somebody to come get me? “I knew I should have driven my own car!” As the words left my mouth, my gaze drifted to the large shiny 4-wheeled object occupying the other side of the garage. “Geez.”

Yes, I felt stupid for not thinking of it immediately, but shock will do that. Besides, there would be time later for self-recrimination and second-guessing. I raced into the house, grabbed the keys to Mother’s Buick, locked the house and headed out. I definitely did not take time to pack and I couldn’t help but wonder if I was even going to need to now.

Within a few seconds, I was on the highway and nearing the gate to the project site. It’s amazing how much quicker you can get places when you totally disregard traffic laws. No sooner had that thought flown out of my head than a truck came careening out of the gate, spewing dust behind. Waverman fishtailed out onto the highway, followed quickly by Gilbert Moore and a truck I didn’t recognize, every single one of them zooming out in front of oncoming traffic, meaning me, without looking. Now, you’d think that since I was already doing eighty-something, I’d have run over them. Nope. The only thing at the gate when I got there was dust.

I punched the accelerator. Yes, we all know the Buick has a governor on it—or presumable still did. I wouldn’t have time to find out though, because Turkey Ranch Road was just ahead. I hit the brakes, but I was still going way faster than was prudent. Since there were no vehicles in the ditch, the guys ahead of me had negotiated the turn onto the narrow little road without incident, so I could too.

As I whipped through the entry gate and zoomed up the hill, I couldn’t help but wonder if the beautiful house I’d just been introduced to was now being turned to ash. Had all my resistant, reluctant and really ugly thoughts created some kind of cosmic payback? “Now that’s just stupid, Jolene,” I said to myself. “You might like to think you’re that powerful, but you’re not.” I was already trying to negotiate with my emotions to prepare myself for the house being destroyed—a house I’d sworn I didn’t want. Interesting response, that.

As I reached the top, a thin layer of smoke spread across the area, but the source was definitely not the house, it was beyond it. I drove around toward the back side of the main house—or the front side of my house, take your pick—and saw a cluster of trucks lining the top curve of the driveway. Beyond them, was a big fire truck, parked on the edge of the plateau, spraying water in an arc over the side of the hill. 

The first vehicle nearest the fire engine was an SUV with “Fire Chief” on the side. Talk about a rapid response. Either the fire department had just coincidentally been driving by at the time of the explosion or they had their very own transporter to materialize them on the scene.

I parked at the back of the line and walked toward the crowd. As I got closer, people started turning to look at me. The house being out of danger was a relief, but from the way they were looking, something plenty bad had still happened. Something had blown up—maybe two somethings, since there’d been two thundering booms.

Images of the cabin explosion flashed in my head. It’s a wonder we all hadn’t been killed that day. Was this another attempt? Was Damon Saide still causing trouble from behind bars? I shook my head. No, I wasn’t going to think like that. Maybe it was just a wayward propane tank or blown transformer. Those kinds of things happened all the time. Every explosion that occurred wasn’t automatically caused by a murdering psycho. A thick silence settled in my ears.
Yes, around here it really was.
Things started moving in slow motion.

I sensed someone standing beside me, saying something, but I could neither see nor hear them. And, I didn’t want to. In fact, I decided right then and there that I no longer wanted to do anything. I did not care what had happened, and I was not taking responsibility for it. Nope. I was done. I felt a pressure on my arm, as if someone had grabbed it. “Oh, no you don’t. I don’t want to and you can’t make me.” I think I said it aloud, but I can’t be sure. A little giggle bubbled up. Then, a catchy little tune began to sing-song in my head.
“Oh, I don’t want to and I don’t care…”
No, no, that wasn’t right. There was something about corn… “
Jimmy crack corn and I don’t care…”
No, maybe it was Gimme.
Phhttt.
What did any of it mean anyway? My version at least had a point.

“I don’t want to and I don’t care,” I sang, feeling light and airy even though it seemed like I was being dragged somewhere. Well, whatever. “Oh, I don’t want to and I don’t care. I don’t want to and I don’t caaaaaare. My master’s gone away-hey.”

Chapter 15

“She just didn’t set the damn parking brake!” a man’s voice boomed. “It was not a crime, by God. Not on my hill!”

“Clove, you have got to stop yelling,” a woman said quietly but firmly. “The poor girl’s been through enough without you carrying on like a crazy man.”

The voices were familiar—I’d heard them before—but who were they and what were they talking about? I forced my eyes open and looked around, trying to orient myself. Dorothy was definitely not in Kansas—nor was Jolene in Colorado, and if she kept talking to and about herself this way she likely had way worse problems.

Shaking away those happy—and sadly recurring—thoughts of insanity, I pulled myself together enough to realize I was in a living room. I was lying on my left side—on a sofa, leather one, a large sectional thing, with a nice soft pillow under my head. A big coffee table stood next to the couch and the wall across from me had a big white stone fireplace. That rang a bell. But who lived here? Was it my home? No. Well, maybe…sort of. I closed my eyes again and sighed then felt a shift on the sofa beside me and something touch my arm.

“Jo?”

I knew that voice. I opened my eyes and looked into the face of Sheriff Jerry Don Parker, who was sitting beside me. Many realizations struck all at once and I went directly to the bottom line. “Oh, this can’t be good.”

Jerry smiled and scooted closer. “It’s nice to see you too.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” I said, turning a little toward him. “You wouldn’t be here unless something bad had happened or I’d done something seriously stupid or mostly likely both.”

“Don’t sit up too fast, dear,” a woman said, standing in front of me. She set a glass of water, a banana and a cup of steaming tea on the coffee table. “You gave us quite a scare.”

I sat up slowly and curled my legs under me. Jerry held the glass of water in front of me, so I drank as directed then handed the glass back to him. There seemed to be foggy images lurking in the background of my memory, but they were not rushing forward so I asked the obvious. “What happened?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” he asked.

Before I could answer, Clovis Stovall stepped out from behind the couch. “Did you set the parking brake? I want to know right now if you set the damn parking brake.”

“Clovis…” Jerry said, a clear warning in his tone.

I frowned. “What parking brake? What are you talking about?”

“There was an accident with your Tahoe,” Jerry said, reaching for my hand. “It rolled off the edge of the hill.”

“What? Is it okay?”

“It’s blown to hell, that’s what it is,” Clove said.

Jerry gritted his teeth, but my confusion was obvious so he kept his eyes focused on me. “We don’t know for sure, but it looks like the car flipped as it went off the edge then hit some rock boulders below. It may have landed on the gas tank, which sparked and triggered an explosion.”

“That was my Tahoe I heard blowing up?”

Jerry nodded. “Misses Stovall was in the back preparing the bedrooms and didn’t see anything and no one else was around at the time, so that’s all we know.”

“I’m really sorry, Miss Jolene,” Emmajean said, sincerely and even worriedly. “I wish I’d seen what happened, I do, and I would have surely stopped it if I could.”

“Even if you’d seen it, Emmajean, what could you have done? What could anyone do?” I shook my head. “I just know what could have caused it.”

“Well, I do,” Clove said. “You were a mess when you got here, all wound up and weepy. Had your head somewhere else and just forgot to set the parking brake, that’s all.”

I resented his description of my emotional state when I arrived at the house, mainly because it was fairly accurate. “I live in the mountains—on a mountain, for godsake—and I’ve never had a car mysteriously roll away.” I shook my head at the unreality of it all. “Is there anything left of it?”

“The fire department put the fire out fairly quickly,” Jerry said. “They were coincidentally onsite with Doctor Waverman for emergency response training purposes, but there’s very little left of the car.”

That explained how the fire trucks materialized, but it still seemed like there were other details that needed filling in.

“Bob’s probably laughing about it,” Clove said from behind me. “Would have put a match to it himself if he could’ve. Never liked you having to drive a piece of junk.”

“My Tahoe is not...was not…a piece of junk!” And how dare he say that anyway? The need to defend the honor of my trusted mechanical friend bubbled up. “It was a good car, only five years old…or maybe it was seven…whatever. It wasn’t a piece of junk!”

“Clovis Stovall,” Emmajean said, her gentle tone now scolding. “I know you’re upset over this, but this girl doesn’t know you or your ways and you’re making a horse’s behind of yourself. Now, you go on outside and see how things are coming along out there.”

Clove stomped to the door, but stopped. “No need in that. Looks like they’re coming to tell us.”

I glanced around to see a man in firefighter gear. He looked familiar. “I know him. He’s the volunteer firefighter who stayed behind with me at the cabin after they took Gilbert Moore away in the ambulance. He was with me in the car when the last shooting spree was going on, but I don’t know his name.”

“Mark Patterson,” Jerry said. “He’s actually the Fire Chief. And a good guy.” He squeezed my hand and stood. “I’ll be right back.”

While Jerry went to chat with the chief, I figured a trip to the restroom was in order. The second I started to stand, Emmajean was at my side.

“Now, Miss Jolene, you take it easy. You’ve had a quite a time this morning. You were out for almost an hour.”

An hour? Really? “So what time is it now?”

“It’s after ten,” she said, moving close like a mother hen, but resisting the urge to hold my arm like an invalid. “I bet you haven’t had a thing to eat and that’s half the problem. I stocked the kitchen with healthy things, local fresh produce and eggs and whatnot. What would you like?”

“You’re right. I haven’t eaten and I am hungry. I’d planned to fix something when I went back to get my things, but, well, we know what happened after that.”

“I can make you a green smoothie if you’d like.”

I tipped my head and frowned. “Really?”

“Of course,” she said. “Kale, frozen bananas, protein powder, chia, flax, coconut milk.”

A little warm fuzzy burst in my chest. “That sounds great! Just like I make!”

As Emmajean started preparing the drink, it occurred to me that she’d just recited my own personal recipe, item for item. Granted, it wasn’t particularly unique, but it still felt weird. My food preferences were about the only things the attorney’s hadn’t grilled me about, so that , unless you considered the possibility of private detectives, which I did not. Still, it was unsettling. “I’ll be right back,” I said, heading across the living room to the master suite.

Walking in the bedroom door, there were more decisions to be made. I could go right and explore the luxurious bedroom area or take a left and go down the hallway formed by matching walk-in closets into the bathroom. As mesmerized as my mind was by the décor, my bladder chose Option B.

After the matching closets, came two matching doors. I opened the one on the right first and was dazzled by a very fancy toilet in a very fancy space. I tried the door opposite it, figure it was a closet. Oh, how wrong I was. It was another water closet exactly like the other one—his and hers toilets. Yes, two of them. I claimed the one on the right and opened the door.

It took a few seconds for me to figure out what I was seeing. It was a toilet, yes, but not your average porcelain perch. It was one of those high-tech varieties that performed all kinds of special services, or so promised the panel of buttons on the wall beside it. It was something I’d never imagined seeing, much less having the opportunity to use. Oh, this was going to be fun!

Then, like a big mouth bass who’d just latched on to a shiny spinner, it occurred to me that I was being dragged to the dark side of almost being happy about my predicament. All because of a toilet.

After a bit of trial and error—and much left untried—I accomplished my general goal. I adjusted the temperature of the heated seat and pushed a button that played the sound of water running—a clever way to mask any other sounds. When I opened the door and stepped out, I noticed someone standing in the bedroom.

“Pretty awesome place you have here, Miz Jackson,” Jerry said, leaning against the corner of the closet.

No freakin’ kidding. “Yeah, it’s really nice.”

He laughed. “It’s okay to admit you like it, Jolene. It’s yours.”

Yes, well, maybe and maybe not. There were many things that had to happen before I proclaimed myself queen of the castle. “You’ve probably seen more of it than I have.”

“I’ve been through it, but the investigation was focused on the upper level, primarily documents and files.” He paused for a moment. “None of the incidents happened here.”

Incidents. Gentle word for what had happened. The man who’d built this place had been murdered. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. But then he’d started this long before any of that happened. No making sense of any that right now, so. I walked to the first sink and washed my hands. “This whole thing is just so bizarre, Jerry. I’m drying my hands on a towel that probably cost more than my shirt and I couldn’t even guess the price tag on the toilet—and there are two of them. There is nothing about this that seems real to me on any personal level. It just feels like I’ve rented a fancy vacation home without the exotic locale.”

He walked over and hugged me to him. “The house is very real, and you may as well enjoy what you can about the situation. It’s much better than being stuck in a hotel somewhere.”

“You’re right,” I said, letting myself sink into his embrace. “Just enjoy it for as long as it lasts.”

He put a finger under my chin and tipped my face up to look at him. “It’s real and it’s all yours, and it can last as long as you want it to.”

I knew what he was telling me—and he wasn’t really talking about the house. We were officially engaged even though I didn’t have a ring, which was my doing not his. Everything had happened so fast that I didn’t want to rush things. That was my story anyway. The real truth went much deeper and it had nothing to do with Jerry. I couldn’t explain that to him, particularly since I couldn’t yet fully explain it to myself. And yet, I was sure he understood anyway. I stared up into his kind eyes. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

A knock at the door interrupted. “Miss Doris and Miss Melody are here,” Emmajean called from the short hallway. “I’ve already shown them to their room and I’m setting your breakfast on the cabinet just outside the door for you.”

Jerry gave me a quick kiss then led me into the bedroom. I opened the door and grabbed the glass of greenness.

He eyed my treasure. “
That
is your breakfast?”

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.” I picked up the glass and took a sip. It was fabulous, even better than I make at home because I didn’t have to make it or clean up after it. “Want a taste?”

He took a quick sip. “Not bad.” He took another then handed me the glass. “Not bad at all.” Then, his face became serious. “Are you okay?”

“I’m always okay, right?”

“Jo…”

“Guess they told you about my little episode.” I knew they had so I continued on. “It was just stress, lack of sleep, not eating, stress and probably stress. No big deal.”

“It’s a big deal,” Jerry said. “I’ll meet with Travis this afternoon and then go collect your mother.” He tipped his head to stop my obvious comment that it wasn’t his job, it was mine. “And I will collect your mother whether she likes it or not. Expect her no later than six.”

“I’m okay, Jerry. I can meet you.”

He wrapped his arms around me again. “You don’t have to be tough and handle everything by yourself all the time. Not anymore.” He squeezed me tighter. “Besides, it will do you good to rest, learn your way around, let reality settle in and…”

“Get prepared for my mother.” I sighed heavily. “This is not at all how it was supposed to be.”

“But it’s how it is, honey.” He kissed the top of my head. “And it’s going to be okay.”

No it wasn’t, and he didn’t believe it any more than I did. Still, it felt good to hear him say so.