Son of a Preacher Man (24 page)

“That’s my take too.” He slapped at his neck. “Let’s go inside, I’m getting eaten alive.”

“Yeah, me too.” She stood and listened to the night birds calling and the crickets chirping. “God, I love it out here. I’m not sure I ever allowed myself to miss it before.”

As they walked back to the door, she felt the prickly sensation on the back of her neck again. She pushed it aside, but was more than happy when J.T. locked the door behind them and kept his service revolver handy.

Chapter Sixteen

“Lord, child, you look just like your mama. God bless her.” Mrs. Farley squeezed Nadya so hard she thought she’d have a cracked rib to go with her sore shoulder. “Just look at you, all grown up and beautiful. And a lawyer. I’m so proud of you.” She sniffed.

Nadya had been chopping carrots for the salad when the Farleys arrived. Before she knew it, she’d been hugged, had her cuts tut-tutted over and hugged again.

“It’s so good to see you too, Mrs. Farley. I’ve missed you. You too, Mr. Farley.” She hugged Mary Ellen’s dad, the closest thing to a father she’d ever had. He was a little thinner than she remembered and a lot grayer, but he still smelled like peppermint candies and the outdoors.

“I think you can call me George now that you’re thirty.”

“No offense, but that would just be weird. How do you like retirement?”

“It has its perks, but I miss being out in the woods.”

Nadya didn’t have a chance to get another word in because the boys tumbled into the room, and Billy was talking up a storm telling them all about Auntie Nad. Hunter just jumped up and down and shouted for attention.

Bill and Mary Ellen were nowhere in sight. Cowards.

“George, why don’t you take the boys out while I help get dinner together?”

“That’s just an excuse to hog Nadya all to yourself.”

“Do you want to scrub potatoes?”

“Come on, boys, let’s see how high you can swing.” Mr. Farley gathered the boys and they trooped out the back door.

“Now that we can hear ourselves think, I want you to tell all about your life in New York. Do you go see shows on Broadway? Have you seen anyone famous? Do you have lunches in Central Park? What about all the art galleries and museums? I bet you’re just drenched in culture up there.”

Before she knew how it happened, Nadya was sitting at the table with a glass of wine in her hands, and Mrs. Farley was taking over the salad making.

“I really don’t get out that much. I work a lot of hours, and when I have time off I’m usually either too tired to go do all the touristy things or I need to do stuff like laundry and grocery shopping.” Nadya took another sip of her wine.

“But you can’t work all the time? Don’t you date? Go out with friends?”

“Sometimes we’ll grab a drink after work. And I dated a little, but nothing serious.”

“What is wrong with those boys up there? Any man with a lick of gumption would snatch you up and give you a reason to take some time off work.”

“It’s a different world.”

“I’ll say, when they don’t go after a pretty thing like you. I hear you haven’t had that problem since you’ve come home. Mary Ellen tells me J.T. set his sights on you and zeroed right in.”

“Mary Ellen talks too much.”

“You try to keep a secret from Mama,” Mary Ellen called from the laundry room.

“Now, don’t get upset, honey. I was just so happy to hear you were back I wanted to know everything. And I can’t say as it did my heart any ill to hear you and J.T. were stepping out together. I always did like that boy.”

“Which boy is this?” Mr. Farley asked, helping himself to a glass of water.

“Jefferson Thomas. He and Nadya are dating.”

“Really?” He puffed up a bit. “I might just need to have a talk with him. See what his intentions are.”

“Please don’t.” Embarrassment warred with love as she watched him get so protective. The last thing she wanted was for Mr. Farley to have
the talk
with J.T., but the fact that he wanted to was endearing.

“Now, Nadya, you appreciate what you work for. If he knows there’s someone looking over his shoulder, he’ll know you’re not to be trifled with.”

“I’m thirty years old. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”

“Humph, doesn’t mean I can’t say a word or two to that boy.”

Nadya searched for something to distract him. “Do you still go hunting?” she asked.

Mary Ellen came in and checked the potatoes in the oven. At Nadya’s question, she raised an eyebrow and mouthed the word,
“Weak,”
at her.

“Not as much as I used to. These old bones can’t take sleeping out in the woods like they used to. I find I like a hot meal and a warm bed a little too much these days.”

“Mary Ellen was telling me you used to lead hunting groups way back before we were born.”

“Oh, yeah. Those were high-cotton days for sure. A bunch of city folk would come in wearing their brand-new gear and toting their shiny rifles and go home with nothing but blisters and backaches. I remember one time there was a group up at the Hornblower camp. Fools came in wearing cowboy boots. Cowboy boots! Like we were going to rustle cattle or something.”

“Wait, did you say Hornblower had a camp in Dale too?”

“Yup, out behind your place. His family had that for years. Why do you think he moved here instead down to Florida or some such when he retired?”

“If I showed you a map, could you show me where his camp was?”

“Maybe. It’s all changed so much now with the state forest taking over bits and pieces.”

“I’ll get Bill,” Mary Ellen said, drying her hands on a towel. “He probably has a map.”

“What’s all this about?” Mrs. Farley asked.

“I don’t know, it could be nothing.”

But it could be something. She took out her phone and texted J.T. He should know about this other piece of the puzzle.

Bill came in with a worn-out map and spread it over the kitchen table. The map had elevation marks on it and areas were blocked out in thick black marker. It did resemble the pie pieces he’d drawn for her on the napkin earlier in the week.

Mr. Farley put on his reading glasses. “Okay now, here’s Deer Creek Road, so this is your piece.” He seemed to gauge the distance from the creek to a few smaller plots. “It’s either this one here or this one,” he said, pointing to two properties that abutted the far corner of her property line. “I remember we had to use the forest access road to get there, which was why we used Masterson’s place more often. It was bigger and nicer and easier to get to.”

Nadya raised her eyes and saw Mr. Farley’s abashed expression.

“You always knew who my father was?”

“I’m afraid so. When I found your mama walking to the clinic in the middle of August, I stopped and picked her up. I had no idea what she was doing on Deer Creek Road. When she told me where she was staying, I put two and two together, but we never spoke of it. She made it clear you were her child and she didn’t need or want any help from the father.”

“We wanted to tell you, but we had to respect your mama’s wishes,” Mrs. Farley said.

“You did the right thing. I didn’t need him when Mary Ellen let me share the best father in the world with her.” She smiled at him across the table and pretended not to notice when he wiped his eyes.

The house phone rang and Bill answered it. “Hello? Yes, she’s right here.” He handed the receiver to Nadya.

“Hello?”

“What’s going on?” J.T. asked.

“Mr. Farley is showing us where Hornblower’s hunting camp is. Coincidentally enough, it’s right next to my property.”

“Huh. Wonder why he didn’t mention that when he was giving you Nokas’s offer? Seems to me he’d have a pretty strong opinion about what you did with the land. Makes me think he got an offer for his land too.”

“Could they make it a stipulation that they’d only buy it if I sold my plot?”

“Maybe. It bears looking into further though. Good thinking.”

“Let me know what you find out.”

All eyes were on her as she hung up the phone. “He’s looking into it. No one has heard from Hornblower since Friday though.”

Bill was looking at the map intently. “The way I see it, the only way Hornblower’s property is worth anything would be if you sold. There’s no street access, and even with the access road, you still have to hoof it a mile or so in. That’s great if you’re a serious camper, but not if you’re trying to do anything with the property. I bet he doesn’t have electricity either. That’s the other perk of your property. It has access to the power lines.”

“Does anyone else find it interesting that he pushed this offer on you the day after you found out who your father was, then left?” Mary Ellen asked. “And immediately after that, things started happening.”

“It does look suspicious, but I just can’t imagine him knocking me down and keeping me there. The man who attacked me was big and strong.”

“Hornblower is younger than I am,” Mr. Farley said. “And I know for a fact he took down a buck and hauled it a good ways to his truck last October. If he’s strong enough to do that, knocking you down wouldn’t be that hard.”

“I don’t know whether to be insulted or flattered to be compared to a deer.”

“I don’t think that’s the issue at hand. I say we stay on guard whether it turns out to be Hornblower or not,” Mary Ellen declared. “And let’s get the map off the table so we can set it for dinner. Bill, you go start the grill.”

Nadya’s stomach growled loudly in agreement, making everyone laugh.

By the time J.T. got off his shift, his nerves were jangling. He’d done some checking into Hornblower and found some things that seemed off. He’d said he moved back to Dale because he was semi-retired, but J.T. had found charges of fraud pending an investigation. The house he was living in was being foreclosed on for lack of payment, and he hadn’t paid this month’s rent on the office space.

Mr. Hornblower looked to be in financial trouble, and men who needed money did desperate things. J.T. really didn’t like that Hornblower was running around loose. It made the spot between his shoulder blades itch.

As J.T. headed out to his truck, he noticed Branson Taylor locking up the hardware store. It still infuriated him that a bear of a man like that would attack a sixteen-year-old girl. His temper was already frayed from his lack of progress on Nadya’s case, and he knew he should stay far away from Taylor, but he had a devil riding him and just couldn’t let it go. He took off his uniform shirt so he was dressed in pants and a white undershirt, which meant he was officially out of uniform.

“Hey, Taylor! Can I have a word with you?” he called across the street before striding over.

“Well, if it isn’t Officer McBride. I’m surprised you have time to talk, what with that hot piece you’ve been diddling with. I’d think you’d be racing back to her, not stopping to talk to me in the street.”

“Where were you yesterday around five o’clock?” Taylor was a big man, he could have knocked Nadya down for revenge if nothing else.

“I was right here in the store. The auction brought a lot of people to the center of town, and I was hoping to get some business from them.”

“Do you have anyone to corroborate your whereabouts?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Just answer the question.”

“I don’t know. Probably. I wasn’t paying attention to the clock. What’s this about, anyway?”

“Nadya was attacked yesterday in the alley between the general store and the post office. I heard you have a history of attacking her.”

“That’s a damn lie. That little tramp came on to me.” Taylor stepped right in J.T.’s face and poked him in the chest. “I didn’t do a thing she didn’t want me to do.”

“I’d advise you to watch what you say and how you say it. And keep your hands off me.”

“Or what? You gonna arrest me? For saying the truth? Once a gypsy whore, always a gypsy whore.” Taylor pushed J.T. back a step.

That was all J.T. needed. “I’m off duty,” he said, and he came out swinging.

His first punch landed in Taylor’s big gut. The follow-up hit him under his chin. J.T. waited on the balls of his feet for Taylor to react. He was itching for a fight and wanted to pound this bastard into the ground.

When Taylor roared and threw a wild haymaker, J.T.’s spirits soared. He ducked the flailing fist easily and came in with a jab to the ribs. Two more quick shots to the nose and it was all over. Blood streamed down Taylor’s face, and he sprawled back against the building.

J.T. grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him up on his toes. “How does it feel to be attacked by someone bigger and stronger than you? Did I do anything you didn’t want me to do? Keep your big mouth shut unless you have something respectful to say.” He threw him to the ground and spun on his heel.

The altercation—he couldn’t call it a fight—had taken only a few moments, but it made him feel much better. As he strode back to the truck, Peterson, another Dale police officer, waited next to the cruiser. He was going on his shift and had a clear view across the street.

“Have a nice evening, J.T. Enjoy your day off.” Peterson whistled a cheery tune and got into the squad car.