Mississippi Blues (9 page)

Placing his glass on the closest table, Jody asked, “Mind if I tag along? Two heads are better than one. There's nothing going on here.”

Trey shrugged. “Suit yourself. But only if you knock off trying to get me and Summer together.”

• • •

Too restless to go to bed, Summer sat on the dark porch, sipping sweet tea. She wondered where Jace could be. Why hadn't he called? Surely, he had to know she would be frantic. Of course, being on the run, he couldn't exactly walk up to a pay phone and call home. With a deep sigh, she rose and padded into the kitchen. Best get to bed. Tomorrow was Saturday and she had to work.

“Summer.”

The voice was so low, she didn't think she'd heard it at first. There'd been so much trauma the last couple of days that her imagination had to be working overtime. Then it came again. The voice. “Summer.”

She gasped. Turning, she tripped over the misplaced kitchen chair and landed on her stomach in the middle of the floor. Her breath rushed out of her in a long whoosh. “Ouch,” she finally managed.

Strong arms lifted her and held her against a solid chest. Still out of breath, she couldn't struggle. The overpowering scent of a man's sweat stung her nostrils. He whispered in her ear, “Hold still. It's me.”

Jace.

Her baby brother.

She stopped squirming.

“Don't turn on the light.” He released her.

She spun around and touched his face with her fingertips. Day-old stubble scratched her fingertips. In the moonlight, she saw his black eyes and an ugly scratch across his right cheek. Emotions she couldn't even identify swirled through her. Her throat felt tight and raw, like she'd been breathing in a cotton mill for a month. “Thank God you're here. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. A few bruises, but nothing I can't handle.” His voice had changed, grown deeper. He stood a good three or four inches taller than her own five-eight. He felt like solid rock where she touched him.

She didn't care how he'd changed. She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tight as hot tears ran down her face. His body was as tense as a fence post. “I'm so glad to see you.”

His arms circled her, reluctantly at first, then in a fierce hug. “Me, too.”

She reluctantly pulled away, wiped her tears and studied his face. “Mama will want to know you're here. She went to bed about an hour ago.”

“I don't want to scare her by waking her this late.” He released her and went to the window. He moved the curtain aside and stared outside for a moment. Then he turned on the light over the stove. A dim glow lit the kitchen. “I can't stay long.”

“Where are you going to go? What are you going to do?” She studied him, memorizing his features. His once round, babyish face had narrowed, hardened. But it was his dark blue eyes, so like hers, which had changed the most. They seemed to have no soul left in them. Her gaze roamed over his body. Rock hard, biceps bulging, he bore no resemblance to the gawky boy he'd been five years ago. He looked like a stranger. Like Trey, he'd become a man.

“I don't know for sure. If Chief Bouché finds out I'm here, I'll be back in prison before I can blink. When I saw my shot, I took it and ran away from that hell. I couldn't take any more.” Savage anger colored his tone.

Her heart caught. “Is it too terrible?”

He laughed, low and harsh. “Think of a bunch of horny, hungry pit bulls in a cage, and you can imagine what it's like. Don't you see? I have to prove I didn't kill Soloman. It's my only chance to get out of there alive.”

“I'm so sorry.” She touched his arm. Whipcord muscles bunched under her hand. Because of Mama's condition, there had been no way to leave her, to travel to Angola to visit him, even before the warden banned her.

“How's Mama?” he asked as if reading her mind.

“Doin' good.” She dropped her hand as if he could read the lie through her touch.

“I wish I could see her.” A note of wistfulness colored his voice.

“Stay the night. See her in the morning. I'll go with you to see the Chief. We'll ask him to reopen the investigation.” She knew he wouldn't even as she pleaded. But the alternative was too terrible to bear. If he ran, he would be hunted down and shot like a rabid dog.

He snorted. “You have a short memory. The last time we were stupid enough to trust a Bouché I ended up a guest of Angola. Something you must've forgotten.”

She flinched at the image. “But, Jace — ”

“No buts.” He moved to the fridge and opened it. Without taking anything, he closed the door. “Do you have aspirin somewhere?”

“Yes.” Fear for his safety again rushed over her. “Do you need medical attention?”

He paced to the window and looked out again. “Naw. It's just some scratches. Nothing to worry about. Do you have any cash?”

“My tip money.” She moved by him and went to the strawberry shaped cookie jar she kept on the top shelf. Taking out the carefully rolled bills, she handed them to him. “This is all I have. There's only about a hundred and fifty.”

He stuffed the money in his pocket without looking at it and without thanking her.

“Where are you going to go?” She knelt before the sink cabinet and removed a small tin. She stood and handed him a half-full bottle. “This is all the medicine I have on hand.”

He wouldn't make eye contact. “Don't know.”

It hurt he wouldn't tell her the truth. “Why won't you tell me?”

“Can't.” His features closed down, shutting her out.

“Why not?” she pressed.

“You might let something slip.”

She could see there was no arguing with him, but still said, “That's not fair. I wouldn't say anything.”

“Not even if Trey comes around, putting on the sweet talk? You might just lay down for him. Before you can say hot damn, he knows where I'm at.”

“No!” Appalled by the idea, she stared at him mortified. What had made him say that? The kind of things that people had always said about their mother. That she was wild and easy to bed. Why on earth would Jace throw that kind of accusation at her? Her eyes teared and she blinked furiously.

“You might.” He looked around and curled his lip. “Old Trey with all his money probably looks pretty tempting.”

“No.” Her fingers bent around the edge of the sink until they turned white. Jace was out of line with his insinuations. Prison had turned her funny, polite brother into a stranger. One she didn't think she liked.

“Liar.” Jace's voice was soft. The word was not.

“What do you mean?” Why was he doing this? Saying these things to her?

“You know what I mean. Trey Bouché has always been the one. Even after everything that's happened, you still believe his sweet talk.” He twisted open the bottle and swallowed four tablets without water.

“Jace … please.” Her voice shook. “That's not true. I haven't seen Trey in years. All of a sudden he's back in town.”

He stepped to the door. “He always had a hard-on for you. You thought he was just a pesky kid, but you were his wet dream. Don't be too surprised to see him coming round again.”

“He showed up here tonight,” she admitted, fighting to ignore his crude comments. If Jace ever found out she'd slept with Trey … She shuddered thinking of it. “I told him to leave us alone and stay away from me.”

“Sure.” His voice held so much doubt she wanted to cry. What made him distrust his own family? They'd always believed in him, stood by him.

“I don't want to argue with you, Jace. I haven't seen you in five years. All I want to do is touch you, talk to you and make sure you're okay. I don't want to have anything to do with the Chief … or his son. Please believe me.”

“Just don't get suckered into trusting them again. Never forget what they cost us. I'm going to prove my innocence, then I'm going to make old Chief Bouché pay for what he did.” Jace stared at her with his cold eyes until a shiver ran down her back. “I gotta go.”

Then he disappeared.

For a long moment, Summer stood in place, unable to move.

She stumbled to the door, but Jace had vanished like a shadow across the moon. Still reeling, she collapsed in a chair, her emotions a jumble. What a night. First Trey, then Jace. One truth stood out above all others. Her brother was in deep trouble.

• • •

Hidden in a copse of trees a few yards from the Hill home, Lindy huddled in the driver's seat of her Jeep. Lifting a numb hand for the spare set of keys in the glove box, she dropped it in her lap. Not sure why she waited, she stared at the dark house but didn't really see it. Her whole body trembled uncontrollably. The aftershocks of what happened with Jimmy Ray had caught up to her. She was lucky in more ways than one. After he was done with her, he probably would've dumped her body in a bayou somewhere, never to be found again.

She'd been brave in front of Jace, but now … now she was a mess. Some instinct told her she could trust him. He'd always treated her well, even when she'd been a kid in pigtails, tagging along when he worked on the Mustang with her brother. Trey would've preferred her to leave, but Jace never minded her hanging out with them. She'd always had trouble believing what he'd done to Soloman. Everyone else turned on him, but she had her doubts. No one listened to her protests then. She doubted they would now.

God only knew what Jace had in mind for her now.

Dump her off on
LeFleur's
doorstep like a sack of mail, most likely.

A tear dripped from her chin. She wished desperately for her legs to work. If only they would support her weight, she'd get out of the Jeep, start walking and disappear into the woods. She'd become a legend, a myth. They'd write folk songs and poems about her. Anything was better than what she was now, just a big screw up. She swiped at her damp cheeks. Nobody in the whole world would care if she never went home. The Chief only saw what she did wrong. She shuddered to think what he'd do to her when he found out what she'd done tonight. Would he send her off to the military like he had Trey?

Come to think of it, being dumped in a bayou held some appeal.

Jace appeared out of nowhere. He swung in beside her and dropped her keys in her lap. “Drive.”

Automatically, she picked up the keys and switched on the ignition. “Why aren't you staying here? This is your home.”

“Not anymore.” His face was set in grim lines. Whatever had happened in there, it hadn't gone well. “I've got to get out of here before someone spots me.”

“Where are we going?”

She shot him a glance as she pulled out of the Hill's driveway, her mind racing. An idea caught her imagination. Maybe she could go with him, start fresh. Kind of like Bonnie and Clyde. Her life as she knew it was over now. Once the Chief got word of what she'd done — deliberately encouraged Jimmy Ray Hunt — he'd disown her. She knew he would send her away at the very least. Hadn't he turned his back on Trey five years ago? And Trey hadn't even done anything wrong. Maybe she and Jace could put their heads together and prove his innocence.

“Let me go with you.”

“No fucking way!” He glared at her. “Are you out of your mind?”

Cringing, she drove mindlessly. After a few minutes of uneasy silence, she tried again. Desperation filled her as they drew close to her home. “Listen, I could help you.”

“I don't need your kind of help.” He sounded so bitter she almost lost her nerve. “Bouché help is something I don't want or need. Just go home and forget you saw me tonight.”

“Sure you do,” she pleaded with him. “I even know a place we could stay. Someplace empty, somewhere nobody ever goes.”

He seemed to consider her words for a minute. “No way. You're setting me up.”

“No, I'm not. This is a great plan. It's perfect.” She almost bounced in her seat. “I'm talking about Granny's farm.”

He pounded his palm with his other fist. “Yeah, not bad. The old lady won't squeal.”

“Granny died last October.” Lindy swiped at her nose. “No one's been up to her place since. The old house is probably falling down by now.”

“Even better. Maybe you could be useful. No one will think to look for me there.” He glanced in the mirror. “If I can just get out there without getting caught.”

“Probably not,” Lindy agreed in her most scathing voice. After Granny died, they'd gone as a family and cleaned out her house of personal effects, but left the furniture with the intention of using it as a vacation home. Then Mother got sick and they'd never fulfilled their plans. Lindy almost shrugged. Who cared? Their family wasn't exactly close.

“Granny Bouché treated me right.” Jace sounded almost nostalgic.

She waited, but he didn't elaborate. He didn't have to. Lindy remembered the times with Granny as well as he did. As children, Lindy, Trey, and their friends were welcomed at Granny's farm with open arms. They'd often spent a week or more with her, fishing, swimming, and making jam out of the wild berries they picked together. Lindy couldn't figure out how the Chief, who had been raised by Granny with a heart as big and wide as the mighty Mississippi River, could not have one of his own. She had more important things to worry about right now. Like convincing Jace to let her stay with him.

• • •

The lump in Lindy's throat grew as she drove up the long, twisty dirt road to Granny's place. Even in the moonlight, the two-story house looked weathered and lonely. The dozens of overgrown wild roses couldn't hide the peeling gray paint and leaning steps. Worst of all, Granny didn't come to the door like she always had — no matter what time of day or night — wearing her old-fashioned print dress and big, clunky shoes, waving a corner of her apron, calling them to come in and sit a spell and have a bite to tide them over 'til supper.