'Til Death (A Rebel Ridge Novel) (12 page)

Marlow’s eyes widened. Fox wasn’t messing around.

“The courthouse in Mount Sterling. If it was me, I’d call ahead
so they’d have time to find it and all. Eighteen years is a—”

“Long damn time, especially if you were living in my shoes,”
Linc said softly, and walked out the door, letting the wind slam it behind
him.

Marlow flinched and then sighed. This was going to cause
trouble. He could feel it.

Nine

R
esisting the urge to read through it right
now, Linc slid the file onto the seat beside him and drove to a Quik Stop to get
gas. The wind was sharp as he got out of the truck. He settled his Stetson and
tilted his head into the wind as he reached for the nozzle. A couple of men eyed
him curiously as they parked on the other side of the pumps. He knew he looked
more cowboy than local. So much the better. One man even caught his eye and
nodded cordially. It was obvious no one recognized him—yet. When he went inside
to pay, he handed the clerk even change and walked out without making eye
contact, then drove down the street to Barney’s. He only needed a few items.
Surely he could get in and out without raising too many eyebrows, although it
was damn hard to be insignificant when you stood six foot eight.

The grocery was small, the merchandise limited, but Linc wasn’t
hard to please. Bread, milk, eggs, cheese, lunch meat and cookies. The rest he
could get in Mount Sterling next time he went. He hit the meat and dairy aisle
first, and quickly cleared four items off his list. He was heading for the bread
aisle when he saw her.

“Hey, Meg,” he said softly.

She looked up, saw the hat and then the face beneath it,
towering head and shoulders above the endcap. She grinned.

“What are we having for supper?” he asked in a teasing
manner.

And just like that, she felt the world open up before her. This
was it. This was the answer to what she’d been feeling. All she had to do was go
for it. So she did.

She arched an eyebrow. “What do you want to eat?”

Linc’s heart skipped a beat. Was she flirting? “Uh...pork
chops?”

“I can do that,” she said. “When are you free?”

He couldn’t believe this was happening. Not after the way she’d
left the other day.

“Uh...tonight?”

She nodded. “Sure. Why not?”

Now he was past curious. “Are you serious?”

“I am if you want me to be.”

He grinned. “Six o’clock good for you?”

She nodded again.

“Want me to bring anything?”

“Your appetite?”

“Then we’re set, because I don’t go anywhere without it.”

And just like that, he had a date.

All of a sudden he realized Meg was wheeling her basket
around.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“To get pork chops.”

“Oh. Right. So I’ll see you later?”

The last sight he had of her face, she was smiling.

He grabbed a loaf of bread, moved to the end of the aisle and
threw a couple of packages of Oreos into the cart, and headed for the checkout
with a bounce in his step. Not even that file full of riddles riding shotgun
beside him could ruin the good mood he was in.

* * *

Meg’s hands were shaking by the time she got to the
checkout. She was still in shock at the brazen way she’d just conducted herself.
She’d heard of women picking up guys in a bar, but not in the bread aisle at
Barney’s, and she was hoping the little interlude had not been overheard. She
would never hear the end of it, if it had.

“Hey, Meg, how’s it going?” Louise said as she began scanning
the items from Meg’s cart.

“Just staying busy making quilts. You know how it goes.”

Louise nodded as she picked up the first package of pork chops
and scanned it. When she picked up the second package, she paused.

“Reckon this will be enough? That’s a real big fellow you’re
about to feed.”

Meg sighed. So much for not being overheard. “Yes, I’m
sure.”

“He’s a looker, that one,” Louise said as she continued
scanning.

“Uh, yes, I guess he is,” Meg said. “Oh, wait. I have a coupon
for that.” She pointed to a big can of pineapple rings. She dug the coupon out
of her purse and gave it to Louise.

“Gonna make pineapple upside-down cake for dessert?” Louise
asked. “My man likes his sweets after a meal, too. Oh, by the way, I didn’t hear
you call his name.”

Meg was writing a check and pretended not to hear. By the time
Louise handed her the receipt, she was ready to bolt.

“Hey, Meg. Wait up,” Louise called as Meg headed for the
door.

“Gotta hurry or this ice cream will melt,” Meg said, and kept
on moving.

She quickly transferred the sacks to the hatch of her new SUV,
gave Honey a pat and praise for being such a good girl and then headed home. It
wasn’t until she was driving out of town that she began to smile. Her life was
taking a turn for the better, and all she could think was that it was about damn
time.

* * *

Most days Wesley Duggan considered himself a fortunate
man. He had himself a pretty wife and a business that was making good money.
He’d gone from hiring on as a car salesman at the Ford dealership in Mount
Sterling to owning it ten years later.

He’d tried to call his wife off and on all morning, but without
any luck. He’d assumed she was simply out shopping and hadn’t heard her cell
ring, but when lunch came and went and she hadn’t called back, he decided to go
home to eat and make sure she was all right. She’d been in bed asleep when he
left, and she might be sick.

He wheeled into their driveway, tapped the garage-door opener
and drove inside. He was thinking about making a sandwich with some of that
baked ham left over from Wednesday night’s dinner when he entered the kitchen,
but the moment he walked in, he knew something was wrong. There was an empty
liquor bottle on the kitchen island and a bowl of melting ice cubes on the
counter.

“What the hell?”

He strode through the house, yelling, “Lucy! Lucy! Where are
you?”

She stepped out of their bedroom into the hall in her bare
feet. Her hair was awry and she was still in her nightgown, but the glass in her
hand was full of ice and whiskey. He could smell it from where he was
standing.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

She swung her glass up in the air as if she was about to make a
toast and then began to laugh. The hollow sound was anything but funny. He
grabbed her by the arms and gave her a little shake, and when he did, part of
the whiskey splashed onto his pant leg and then his shoe.

“Damn it, Lucy! I thought you’d put this kind of drinking
behind you.”

“I can’t put anything behind me,” she said, and then started to
bawl. “No matter how good I try to be, or how hard I try to make everything
pretty and nice, it all turns to shit.”

Wes frowned, then took the glass out of her hands, set it aside
and pulled her into his arms.

“Talk to me, honey. Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll make it all
go away.”

She buried her face against the front of his suit coat. “You
can’t. I’m cursed by the blood running through my veins, and there’s nothing you
can do to fix it or me.”

The mention of the blood in her veins was all it took. “Who was
here? Prince or Fagan?”

“It was Prince!” she cried, and then let out a wail. “He’s
running from the law about something, and he coerced me into giving him all my
money or else he was going to rob some store. He said if he got caught then
everyone would know he was my kin.”

Wes’s eyes narrowed angrily. “The sorry little bastard. Did he
say where he was staying? I’ll teach him to threaten you!”

“No. I don’t know anything except that I gave him about six
hundred dollars and told him if he came back I’d kill him and tell the cops it
was self-defense.”

Wes rocked her where she stood, feeling sorry for her misery
and at the same time so damned pissed off at his worthless brother-in-law that
he couldn’t think.

“There, there,” he said, patting her on the back and smoothing
the wild hair away from her face. “Let’s get you out of that gown and into some
nice warm sweats. I’ll go make us some sandwiches and coffee while you clean up
a bit. It’s gonna be okay, Lucy Bee. You’ll see. He won’t come back, but if he
does, I’ll tend to him then.”

It was the pet name he used that touched her heart. Even when
she’d been married to her first husband, Marcus, she’d been Wesley’s Lucy
Bee.

“Yes, give me a few minutes to clean up,” she muttered, shoving
her hair out of her eyes and smoothing her hands down the front of her gown.

Wes kissed her cheek and left, taking the half-finished glass
of whiskey with him and downing it on the way to the kitchen. By the time Lucy
got there he had sandwiches made and hot coffee in the pot, and was thawing a
half of a coconut cake that he’d found in the freezer.

She paused in the doorway, eyeing the spread, and then sniffled
to remind him she was still upset.

“My sweet Wesley...you are such a good man,” she said.

He turned and gave her the once-over. She didn’t even look like
the same woman from a few minutes ago. Her sweats were a robin’s-egg blue, and
her long blond hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail and fastened at the nape
of her neck. She had on just enough makeup to take away the pale tinge in her
skin, but when she blinked, he could still see tears.

“Come sit with me,” he said, and held out his hand.

She offered her cheek for a kiss, which he dutifully gave, and
then she sat in the chair he’d pulled out for her. She was a lifetime away from
the way she’d been raised and wasn’t ever going back, no matter what it
took.

“Would you rather have ham or turkey, Lucy Bee? I made some of
both,” he said as he handed her the platter of sandwiches.

“I think turkey,” she said as she took a half sandwich from the
platter and put it on her plate. “I don’t want to ruin my girlish figure.”

He winked. “Your figure is perfect—just like you.”

Perfect? Lucy blinked as a memory slid through her mind so fast
she could almost have imagined it never happened. She took a bite of her
sandwich, chewing and swallowing before she spoke.

“How was your morning? Everything going okay at the
dealership?”

“Yes, everything is fine,” he said. “Want some chips?”

“A few,” she said, and slid her plate toward the sack of chips
he was holding and then took a quick sip of her coffee.

Wes watched her closely, making sure her meltdown had safely
passed. He didn’t want to go back to work and think she would fall back in the
bottle. He had known Lucy all his life. He’d been in love with her since the age
of fourteen, and when she’d married his best friend, Marcus, a few years later,
he’d nearly died. When Marcus and Lucy began having troubles, he’d shamelessly
stepped in as the shoulder she needed to cry on, and when Marcus was murdered,
he’d felt joy that she was free instead of grief that his friend was dead.

He downed half a sandwich and reached for another, as well as a
few more chips.

“Do you think you’re going to be all right if I go back to
work?”

She nodded. “Yes, and I promise I won’t drive anywhere. I’ve
had too much to drink to get behind the wheel. Thank you for worrying about me,
but I’ll be okay. It was just the shock of seeing Prince and then being
threatened like that.”

She shuddered, which pissed Wes off all over again.

“If he comes back, don’t let him in,” he said.

“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t. But I doubt he’ll be back. I made it
pretty clear that I’d call the cops on him myself if he did.”

“I wonder what he did,” he said.

“I don’t want to know,” she said, and got up to refill her
coffee, then tested the cake he’d set out. “Do you want some cake? It’s thawed
enough to slice.”

“Yes, please.”

She cut two pieces and carried them back to the table, then
watched him take the first bite.

“Is it still good?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, Lucy Bee, it’s not good, it’s
amazing.
”

Lucy smiled. It was good to be appreciated.

* * *

Linc set his groceries on the table, dropped the file on
the sofa as he walked past, then took off his coat and hat and left them on the
bed. The quilt reminded him of Meg and the fact that he was going to eat supper
at her house tonight. He was still a bit surprised that she’d invited him and
hoped he wasn’t reading too much into the offer.

He started a pot of coffee, then put away the groceries, except
for the cookies. He grabbed a handful and headed for the sofa. He popped a
cookie in his mouth and began chewing as he reached for the file. It was weird
that he had no idea what was in these reports, and yet they were part of what
had put him in prison. It didn’t take long to get caught up in the cut-and-dried
sentences, although they were shockingly sparse. How could such a traumatic
event be captured in such emotionless words?

Call to suspicious fire at the residence
of Marcus Fox.

Empty gas can found behind a
shed.

Body of a male believed to be M. Fox found
just inside the back door.

Teenage son, Lincoln Fox, found on his
back beside his truck, unconscious, with blast burns on exposed
skin.

Linc stopped, too shaky to keep reading, and got up to pour
himself a cup of coffee. He walked outside to get some air, relishing the slap
of cold against his skin, and watched a hawk circling in the sky overhead. The
quiet here was still something remarkable to him. Coming back was good for more
than clearing his name. It was refilling his soul. He stood until his coffee was
cool enough to drink before he went inside.

It had been a very long time since he’d let himself “go there,”
but reading the reports brought back every moment of the nightmare and made it
difficult to stay objective. He took a drink, popped another cookie in his mouth
and kept reading.

Arrived on scene at 8:37 p.m. Neighbors in
the act of fighting the fire. See attached list for names and
numbers.

He flipped through the pages until he found the list and
quickly scanned it. He knew the people but didn’t remember a one of them being
there. All he could remember was someone shouting his name as he lay there
looking up into a night sky blanketed with stars, and then the silhouette of
some man blocking his view. He felt the heat before he saw the fire, and when he
tried to get up he passed out again. That was all he remembered before waking up
in a hospital bed with his grandpa holding his hand and Aunt Tildy standing at
the foot of his bed crying. She was the one who’d told him his dad was dead.