Rock-a-Bye Bones (19 page)

“Amber is capable of stabbing someone.” I didn't have a doubt. “Maybe Lucinda and Brook, too. If those girls are behind this, someone helped them. I think it was Carrie Ann Musgrove.”

“Lucinda's mother? The Olympic gymnast. Man, a lot of the boys had some hot fantasies about her.”

“More information than I want to know.” I put my hands over my ears. “Too bad Carrie Ann is in Bolivar County or we could pay a visit on her. We'd be right on time for supper.”

“She lives in Sunflower County. Just on the line, but in this county. June Bug community straddles the two counties, but her house is here. I had to go out there two years ago with the tax assessor. She threated to shoot him.”

“What are we waiting for?” I was starving and tired, but the thought of arresting Carrie Ann was like a jolt of pure adrenaline.

The fax machine beeped and Coleman hurried to Francine's desk. In a moment he looked hard at me.

“What?”

He printed off a sheet of paper and brought it to me. He handed it over without comment.

The photo was grainy, but it was evident that Gertrude Strom, in a Chinese-red Mercedes roadster, just like my mother's, was filling her tank with gasoline. In the distance were cotton fields that stretched forever. She was in a Delta area, in Mississippi, Arkansas, or maybe Louisiana.

“Where is she?” I asked.

“Bolivar County. The clerk at the station thought she looked familiar, but a tanker pulled in to fill the pumps and he got busy. This was about two hours ago. He checked the store's security cameras and compared the likeness with those on the wanted posters. He's after the reward.”

“Then he should have acted more quickly.” Two hours. Gertrude could be sitting outside the courthouse right now with a rifle and a scope.

“I'm going to take you home and stay with you.” When I started to speak, he shook his head. “No arguments. I'll stay in a guest room.” He was all business. Now wasn't the time for innuendo or teasing. “I want to keep you safe.”

“Why can't someone catch her?”

“Sarah Booth, there are two, maybe three deputies in most of the rural counties. We need ten or twenty to do the job properly, but the supervisors aren't going to fund law enforcement when roads aren't paved and bridges aren't maintained. Schools are falling down around our ears. The state can't help because they're in deficit spending. There are half a dozen highway patrolmen for the miles and miles of highway in the region. There's not enough manpower, and when the average citizen sees an antique car pass, they think, how nice. That's it. Gertrude Strom is the furthest thing from his mind.”

“That's not comforting in the least.”

“It isn't meant to be. DeWayne and I will do everything we can to protect you. So will your friends, but you have to be hypervigilant. You are the target. No one can take better care of you than
you.
Pay attention.”

“She's like a force of nature. She can't be stopped. Do you really think she wants to kill me?” I'd done nothing to Gertrude. She hated me for an imagined slight my mother had made against her. In Gertrude's mind, my mother had given away the secret of her illegitimate pregnancy.

That was untrue and crazy, but even nuttier was that Gertrude had ended up killing her own son. Her target had been a pseudo-intellectual and academic, Olive Twist. Instead of killing the obnoxious Twist, Gertrude had poisoned her own child. Next, she meant to harm me. She'd made a few unsuccessful attempts, and she wasn't done yet. Gertrude had gone from a local kook with a mean streak to a full-blown sociopath.

“Let's get you home. It's too dangerous to be running up and down the roads in the dark.”

“What about interviewing Carrie Ann?”

“It can wait.”

I agreed with some reluctance. Pleasant's life could be in jeopardy—we needed to focus on squeezing the truth out of Carrie Ann Musgrove, not hide out at Dahlia House. Would Carrie Ann be smart enough to cover her tracks? I didn't want to delay, but I was a coward. I was afraid of Gertrude.

 

15

Sweetie Pie led the way to the kitchen. While I put coffee on to brew, Coleman went through the refrigerator to see what supplies I had. All of us were starving. A sit-down at Millie's Café would have been my preference, but Coleman didn't want me in town, easily visible in the plate-glass windows of the diner. It was make do at home.

“Stir-fry,” Coleman said as he pulled out vegetables. “I'll cook if you clean.”

“You've got a deal.”

While he busied himself with our meal, I heated some beef stroganoff for Sweetie and a bit of leftover amberjack for Pluto. Both appreciated my efforts and fell asleep under the table. As I set the small table in the kitchen, my heart thudded. Food preparation and cleanup would be behind us, and I would be with Coleman, alone, in my cold home—knowing that he had everything needed to warm me up.

My body was surely ready for the adventure, but was my heart? Coleman and I had gotten crosswise of timing in the past. I'd been free and ready, and he'd been married and ready. I respected him for refusing to engage in an affair while Connie wore his ring. Until it became abundantly clear that Connie had no honor. A fake pregnancy had brought Coleman home, and when her deception was revealed, it had ended their marriage.

It was too late for us by then. I'd hardened my heart and gone on to new relationships, the latest of which had ended in a broken engagement. I wasn't certain my heart was ready to try again. Rushing into a relationship, romantic or just plain sexual, was not what I needed. And I had to hold firm to that knowledge and not let Coleman seduce me—because he certainly could.

Coleman came up behind me as I leaned over to put napkins at our plates. His arms circled my waist and pulled me into him. At first I resisted, and then I relaxed. Coleman's arms were the safest place in the world.

“Dinner's ready,” he whispered in my ear, sending chills over me.

“We should eat.”

“We probably should.” Coleman lifted the wine bottle I'd uncorked and poured a glass. He offered it to me, and I shared with him. Leaning against him, I let my worries drop away. Life offered so many wonderful opportunities.

“The food smells delicious.”

“I can cook.” He laughed. “I know that shocks you.”

“You were always a grill expert, but I didn't realize you'd mastered Chinese cuisine.”

“Mastered may be stretching the point.” His hands spread across my rib cage, drawing me more closely to him as his chin tucked into my shoulder, the better to allow his words to tease my ear.

My body wanted to turn, to press myself against him. I could feel the blood thrumming through me, and I was short of breath. Coleman could read the signs. He knew he was having an effect on me, because he chuckled softly.

Unable to bear it any longer, I spun in his arms and lifted my face, anticipating a kiss.

“No, I don't think I will kiss you, although you need kissing badly. That's what's wrong with you. You should be kissed, and often, by someone who knows how.”

I stepped back to find him unable to hide his amusement. “You are going to pay for that Rhett Butler rip-off. I am no simpering Scarlett waiting for a man to solve my problems.”

“That's where you're wrong.” The challenge had been thrown.

“Coleman Peters, what do you mean?”

“You're brave and fiery and capable.”

“Oh.” I'd misread his comment.

“And you're willful and rash and impetuous.”

He was heading back into deep water.

“And very kissable.”

Before I had time to think, he kissed me.

When he finally eased back, I was Jell-O kneed. This was a whole new Coleman. We'd shared passion in the past, but Coleman had never demonstrated such accomplished skills at making a woman tingle all over. He was confident, and that was like a live wire of desire right to my nether regions.

“You can't do this.”

“Because you're a lady?”

“Dammit! Stop thieving Rhett's lines. I am no lady.”

He handed me the wineglass. “Drink the wine before you throw it. Less mess to clean.”

“What is wrong with you? Have you binge watched
Gone with the Wind
?”

“I'm patterning myself after a man that all Southern women love.”

“Sit down and let's eat. The food is getting cold.” In truth, I wanted the table between us. Coleman affected me, and there were no two ways around it. He was like a flame, and I was drawn to him, even knowing I might get myself torched. Judging from the fire Coleman generated, more like burned to a crisp.

We'd just taken a seat when Coleman's phone rang. He hesitated.

“Answer it. Maybe they arrested Gertrude.”

“Hello, Sheriff Kincaid.” Coleman slowly rose from the table and turned profile. “I see. Well I can assure you it wasn't Ms. Delaney. She's been with me most of the afternoon and this evening.”

He kept his attention focused away from me.

“Yes, she's here right now. I appreciate the heads-up on Gertrude Strom, by the way. You will let me know if you apprehend her. I'll be on my way there shortly.”

He put the phone down. “Carrie Ann Musgrove has filed charges against you. She said you tried to burn her house down.”

“That's insane. I've been with you.”

“It's time I have a chat with her.”

I stood, too. “I'll go with you.”

“No, you're staying right here with Sweetie Pie and Pluto to watch over you. And just for extra precautions, I'll send DeWayne over.”

“That's not necessary. I'll be fine. I have a gun.”

“And that's one of the things that worries me.”

I gave him the Vulcan salute that I'd learned so long ago from
Star Trek
reruns. “Live long and prosper.”

“Stay in the house. Lock the doors. DeWayne will be here shortly.”

About ninety-five percent of me watched Coleman walk out with sadness. The other five percent, that small percentage that warned me to use caution, was relieved. The sexual pull between us was heady and dangerous. Not dangerous like Gertrude, but we both had the power to harm each other, and I had had enough heartache.

I filled my plate and sat down. I was famished, and Coleman's departure had done nothing to quell my appetite.

The stir-fry was delicious. I hadn't considered that Coleman had taught himself to cook since his divorce. Such talents might prove useful in the future, which stretched out before me, a long path fraught with possibilities.

I'd just stabbed a snow pea when I realized I was being watched. I pivoted in my chair and almost fell over. A beautiful young woman stood by the kitchen sink. I recognized her instantly, even without her crown. Millie, my tabloid-reading friend, was going to be pea green with envy. She had had a real thing for Princess Di.

“Only do what your heart tells you,” the woman, who was once in line to be the future queen of England, said.

“Listening to my heart isn't so easy, Diana. It wasn't easy for you, either. The fairy tale often has a dark ending.”

“Love can be treacherous, but it is the joy of life. You have many who love you, as did I. And I left two fine men behind to brighten the world.”

“I have to know. Was the wreck a setup?”

She ducked her head in that classic shy maneuver. “That's behind me. The future is what you must guard. Be careful, Sarah Booth. You have much love to give, but there are also those who don't want love to flourish.”

“Are you talking about Gertrude Strom?”

“Gertrude is not alone. There are many who disdain love and compassion and focus only on greed and acquisition. They will stop at nothing to get what they want.”

She would not tell me who. The rules of the Great Beyond did not allow name-dropping.

“Are you happy?” I asked her. Millie would want to know this.

“I am. And proud of my sons and my grandchildren, though I will never hold little George or Charlotte. That is a hard thing.”

“And you are eternally young.” Not exactly compensation for the inability to hold a grandchild, but it was at least something.

“Your children are your legacy, Sarah Booth. Never forget.”

Slowly she began to change, the blue eyes darkening to brown, and the pale skin taking on the mocha tones of my personal haint. Jitty was in the house.

“Jitty, I appreciate the artistry of using a beloved princess to try to get me to bed a man, but if my sole purpose is to breed a Delaney heir, you may be disappointed.”

“How do you know that was me? Maybe I'm merely a vessel for the spirits who try to pound somethin' into that hard noggin of yours.”

“It's you—in disguise.”

“Are you so certain?” Jitty was back in full haint mode. Gone were the sequined gown and the blond bob. She wore my favorite jeans, a plaid flannel shirt, and my riding boots.

“You have an endless wardrobe. Why are you wearing my clothes?”

“What do Princess Di and Sarah Booth Delaney have in common?” she asked.

“Certainly not a sense of fashion.”

“You can say that again,” Jitty said. “But you both love life and try to help people.”

“Jitty, my dinner is getting cold. I appreciate the visit, but I have bigger fish to fry than romance and errant sperm—like finding Gertrude Strom.”

“Where is that deputy?” Jitty grumped. “He should have been here by now.”

My phone rang and I answered DeWayne's call. When I looked up, Jitty was gone.

“I just got a 911 from a woman in Fitler. There's a shooting there and Coleman is on the other side of the county. I was on my way to stay with you, but I have to go to Fitler. Who should I call to stay with you? Scott? Harold? Cece? Tinkie and Oscar are out of town.”