Two for Flinching (30 page)

I turned my back on him and walked into the
dining room/playroom. Dolls and doll clothes and crayons and
coloring books still littered the floor.

“Baby!”

Sarah thumped off the couch and sheepishly
approached, eyes wide. “Sir?”

I began counting backwards.
Five, four,
three, two, one.
I scooped her up and hugged her tight. “I love
you.”

“I love you, too, daddy.”

A whole different kind of fuel.

Chapter Fifty-One

I was in the office early, after another
night of not drinking myself into a stupor. Mentally drained, I
just hadn’t had the energy for it. If I wasn’t careful, it might
soon become a habit.

I had decided to go through the journal at
work, hoping it would keep me from the sauce and allow me to think
clearly. Plus, it wasn’t as if I had anything else to do.

The journal sat unopened on the desk.

The metal stairs did much more than creak.
They groaned. It felt like the entire sock factory tilted, that it
was in danger of flipping over on its side. The door opened to
reveal a man of biblical proportions.

Six foot six, at least three hundred and
fifty pounds, dressed in camouflage fatigues and a dirty black tee.
He had dark, stringy hair and a full unkempt beard. He looked
behind him. “This the guy?”

Fletcher, who looked like an insect next to
him, said, “Yes.”

He shook his massive head. “This twerp put my
brother in the hospital?”

I stood, the drawer open. “You must be Little
Bird.”

Little Bird ignored me. “He hit him with a
pipe or something?”

“No,” Fletcher said. “It was a fair
fight.”

“Let’s get to it then.” He stepped forward,
cracking his knuckles.

“I should have known you’d be scared of
me.”

That stopped him. “What? I’m scared of
you
?”

“Obviously.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s why you came at me in here. If you
weren’t terrified of me, we’d take it outside. You know I’m faster
than you. This is the only chance you have, close quarters.”

Starling tilted his head back and laughed.
“You won’t try to run? Because if you do, I’ll hunt you down and
it’ll be even worse.”

“I won’t run.”

“Come on. I’ve got breakfast waiting on me.”
He slapped Fletcher on the back, knocking him two steps. Fletcher
gave me a quizzical look.

I slipped into my leather jacket. It was cold
outside.

They were waiting for me, Starling rotating
his nub of a neck, Fletcher standing back, hands open to let me
know he was out of it. There was a full sized conversion van in the
lot next to the Jeep that might once have been brown, but had faded
to a murky, indistinct color.

“Last chance.”

“For what?”

“For you to stay out of the hospital.”

He flashed me a smile of small, stained
teeth. “You brave, boy. I’ll give you that.”

“Have it your way.”

***

“You shot him?”

“I had to. Did you see the size of that
guy?”

“No, but I heard.”

“I didn’t have any choice.”

Randall Rogers sipped his coffee, disbelief
spreading across his best cop face. “You shot him.”

“In the leg.”

“The femoral artery is in the leg. He
could’ve bled to death.”

“I know how to shoot a man in the leg without
killing him.”

Randall shook his head. We were sitting in a
corner booth of an otherwise empty diner. “Why are you telling
me?”

I shrugged. “I thought you should know. I
didn’t want you out beating the bushes for a shooter.”

“It’s not my case.”

“What’s Starling saying?”

“Nothing. Whenever the detectives walk in, he
goes to sleep. Somebody dropped him at the emergence room without
going inside.”

“Fletcher.”

“The boys have been looking around to see if
he was shot during an attempted robbery. I guess I can tell them to
call that off.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I should bust your ass right now. You just
confessed to assault with a deadly weapon.”

I shook my head. “It wouldn’t stick.”

“Why not? You gonna lie about it?”

“No. You haven’t read me my rights, I’ll take
the fifth.”

“I could still get the admission in.”

“Maybe. But you’ve got an uncooperative
victim. You think he’ll stick around for the trial?”

“I think he’ll kill you long before we get
that far.”

“There you go.”

“You’re unbelievable, you know that? You sit
here and admit to shooting a man in broad daylight and won’t say a
damn thing about taking out Trey’s crew.”

I leaned forward, speaking in a whisper. “You
come after me and my daughter, don’t expect to walk away.
That’s
all I can help you with on that situation.”

The muscles of his jaw bunched. “Jeremiah is
back on the street.”

“That’s good.”

“Is it?”

“Beats me.”

“You remember when Jeremiah made his
play?”

“Yeah.”

“That tension. That electricity, that…feeling
it could explode any minute? That’s what it feels like in the
Bottoms. You going after Jeremiah?”

“No.”

“How about Nero?”

“Have to ask Nero.”

“Can’t find him. I’m asking you.”

“Nero is his own man,” I said, “but as far as
I know, he doesn’t have any reason to go after Jeremiah. For
now.”

“Comforting.”

“Look, I gave you my theory of Steven being
connected to Starling. Had any luck running that down?”

“Actually, I have.” He set the cup down,
smiling. Evidently, it was my day for ugly smiles.

“Well?”

“Amber disappeared on Sunday night,
right?”

“That’s the assumption.”

“Starling got picked up on a DUI in Meridian,
spent the night in the can.”

“Fletcher could have made it.”

Randall shook his head. “They impounded the
truck, Fletcher stayed in a motel, bailed him out in the
morning.”

“Meridian?”

“Yeah.”

“So on Sunday evening, they were already
heading to Chickasaw Falls.”

“One way to look at it.”

“It could have been the other Starling
brother.”

“The one with the hole in his leg?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded. “I’ll check.”

Randall started to leave. I reached out with
my hand, grabbing him by the wrist. “Hang on. Andy said there were
three brothers. We don’t know who he is.”

Randall made a face. “Then what? You start
looking at cousins? I told you I would check on this Little Bird,
but…”

“But?”

“Beason, we know you’re in this somehow. You
have to know we’ll get something.”

“I know nothing.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Chapter Fifty-Two

“Where is Steven from? He ain’t from around
here.”

“Florida. Jacksonville, maybe.”

“Steven have any connection to
Louisiana?”

“Louisiana? Not that I know of.”

“How about Amber? She ever say anything about
Louisiana?”

“No. Why?”

“Chasing a lead. Where did they meet?”

“At the restaurant. Amber went in one night
and Steven swept her off her feet.”

“I bet. Amber told me the restaurant was in
trouble.”

“It was always in trouble. A few years back,
the bank almost took it off their hands.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. I’m not their accountant. I
can ask him if you like. I’ve got to meet him in a little
while.”

“Why?”

“Make arrangements.” She unentangled herself
from the couch and walked naked across my office. It was unnerving,
how similar she was to her sister—especially nude. And especially
from the rear. They were both long and lean, well toned, both
blond. Madison was a little thinner, a tad taller, her hair was cut
shorter. They were both beautiful. And they were both untamed
tigers when the moment came.

Madison stood at my window. The window
without blinds or curtains. She would make some mail carriers
day.

“What are we doing here?”

“Nothing.” She turned, smiling. The same as
her sister’s. “We’ve already done it.”

“What do we do next?”

She came back to the couch, lying on top of
me, her flesh pressed against my bare chest. “Next, we get dressed.
Eventually.”

***

“You read the journal?”

“Yeah.”

“All of it?”

“Yeah.”

“Learn anything?”

“Your wife was a very busy woman.”

“No doubt.” I pushed back in my chair. The
blasted journal sat unopened on the desk.

“I tried to tell you,” Nero told me, “to
leave it alone.”

I shook my head. “Her killer might be in
there.”

“He might be,” Nero agreed, “but it ain’t
spelled out in there.”

“Shit.” I was hoping it was, that Nero could
point me in the right direction and I could wrap this up without
having to read any more. “Figure out who any of these men are?”

“Yeah. I think I figured out A and B.”

“I’ll make a detective out of you yet,” I
said. “Any idea who the jerk is?”

“No. How much of it have you read?”

“Not enough. Too much.”

“Identify anybody?”

“L.”

“Who’s he?”

“Luther Drake.”

“As in Judge Drake?”

“Yeah.”

Nero whistled. He had removed his long coat.
His hair hung loose, almost touching his shoulders. “Isn’t he
something like a mentor to you?”

“Was. He taught me Tae Kwan Do. His son and
I, back in the day, two nights a week.”

“Is he…”

“Couple of cracked ribs.”

“Man.” Nero sat back, crossed his arms. “I
don’t get you sometimes, Beason.”

“What do you mean?”

“This man—this family friend—was sleeping
with your wife and all you did was hit him—what—once?”

“Yeah.”

“I just figured you would do…something
more.”

The embers flared up. I had to take a deep
breath, count back from ten and do it again. “You saw Stella?”

“Yeah.”

“She was a good looking woman.”

“Oh yeah,” he quickly agreed.

“So let’s just say my thinking on that has
developed. Most of the blame was on Stella. She was my wife.”

“Still. She’s not here and he is.”

“Like you said, she was a busy woman. If I
took out every guy she had relations with, Chickasaw Falls might
have a population problem.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“I’ve got a little girl to think about. What
happens to her if I go to prison?”

“You a stronger man than I am.”

I didn’t feel like it. I felt weak, shaken,
even afraid.

“According to the journal, Luther had it bad
for her. He didn’t take it too well when she dropped him.”

“He’s still pretty shook up about it.”

“Think he could be the one? He wouldn’t be
the first that took out a woman who rejected him.”

I stood up, walked to the same window Madison
had stood at. No chance of making a mail carriers day. “I don’t
know.”

“What about this other woman? Drake connected
to her?”

“No.”

“Any idea who did her?”

“I’m thinking her husband, but the law
doesn’t see it. He was in the hospital when she died.”

“He could have had help. Caspar the littlest
ghost.”

“He was in Mississippi the night Amber died.
His partner, too.”

Nero thought about it. Darkness was creeping
in, the sun giving up its fight. Nero said, “His partner is the one
you put in the hospital?”

“Yeah.”

“No doubt about them being out of state?”

“None.”

“They hooked up with the husband?”

“Yes. Somehow.”

Nero shook his head. “I don’t see it. He a
citizen?”

“Business owner.”

“Maybe one connect to outlaws, but not two.
You might need to open the search a little wider.”

“Like I said, a regular detective.” I turned
away from the window. “I’ve already looked into the wife and I
couldn’t find anything else going on.”

“Except for you.”

“Yeah,” I said, “except for me.”

“Think I understand now.”

“What’s that?”

“Your developing thinking,” Nero said. “Once
you crossed that line, you unwilling to judge.”

“Probably has something to do with it.” Nero
might have been a young man, but he was wise beyond his years.
Before my affair with Amber, that journal would have put me on the
warpath—consequences be damned. “Detective Rogers was asking about
you.”

“Yeah?”

“Wanted to know if you’ll be going after
Jeremiah.”

“That’ll be up to Jeremiah.”

Chapter Fifty-Three

The truck crawled slowly up the rutted
track. Sarah was tucked safely in her bed, Erin and her beau doing
God knows what on the sofa. I was stone cold sober. Against my
better judgment.

I parked and got out of the Jeep. The night
was clear and cold, no wind, the full moon chasing away the stars.
The quarry was deserted, no teenagers sneaking beers and doing God
knows what. The ground was hard, frozen solid. The man in the moon
stared back at me from the face of the water.

I had always felt drawn to this spot, since
that first night with Stella in the back of my father’s car. It was
a special place to me, the one spot where life had been perfect—if
only for a short time. It was somewhere I could think. And
remember. I didn’t try to control my thoughts, marshal them to
where I wanted them to go, but let them loose, allowed them to
run.

Jeremiah had not killed my wife. The odds of
him snatching Adrian and Stella on their way out of town, after
they emptied their checking accounts before starting their new life
together, were so low as to be nonexistent.