Carolina Moon (41 page)

“It’s not something to profit from.”

“Why not? Oh, of course, I forgot. This is you. You’d rather mope about it. Poor little me.” Faith dabbed an invisible hankie under her eyes. “I’m psychic, so I must suffer.”

The insult was so huge, Tory couldn’t imagine why her lips wanted to twitch into a ridiculous grin. “I’m not moping.”

“You would, given half a chance. I’m an expert on moping.” She edged a hip onto the desk. “Come on over to Wade’s with me. You can, like, brush up against him or whatever, and find out what’s going on in his head about me.”

“I will not.”

“Oh, be a pal.”

“No.”

“You’re such a bitch.”

“That’s right, now go away. And put that bracelet back where you got it.”

“Fine. It’s not my style anyway.” She leaned over the desk. “What am I thinking right now?”

Tory glanced up, and her mouth quivered. “It’s inventive, but anatomically impossible.” She swiveled back to her keyboard. “Faith, thanks.”

With a sniff, Faith pulled open the door. “For what?”

“For deliberately annoying me so I wouldn’t mope.”

“Oh, that. My pleasure. It’s so easy, after all.”

“W
ade, honey?” Faith cocked the phone on her shoulder and peered over the counter toward the storeroom, where it seemed to her Tory had been holed up for ten days. “You busy?”

“Me? Of course not. I just finished neutering a dachshund. Another day in paradise.”

“Oh. What exactly do you—no, never mind, I don’t think I want to know. How’s my baby?”

“I’m just fine, and how are you?”

“I meant Bee. Is she all right?”

“Usurped by puppy breath.” He let out a weighty sigh for form. “She’s enjoying herself. I’m sure she’ll tell you all about her first day at work later.”

“I’m having a first day at work, too. Sort of.” Faith studied, with a surprising sense of satisfaction, the glass displays she’d polished to a sparkle. “What time do you think you’re going to be done over there?”

“I should be wrapped up by five-thirty. What did you have in mind?”

“I have Cade’s convertible, and I was thinking how it would be if we took us a long drive. It’s so hot and sticky. I’m not wearing a thing but that red dress.” With a sly smile on her face, she twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “You remember my red dress, don’t you, honey?”

There was a long, long pause. “You’re trying to kill me.”

Her laugh was low and satisfied. “I’m just trying to be sure, since we’ve been spending a lot of time lately having conversations and so forth, that a certain part of our relationship isn’t neglected.”

“I can get behind that.”

“Then why don’t we take that drive. We could find us a cheap motel and play traveling salesman.”

“What are you selling?”

This time her laugh was long and robust. “Oh honey, just trust me. The price is going to be right.”

“Then I’m buying. We’d have to drive back late tonight or early tomorrow morning. I have appointments.”

“That’ll be fine.” She was getting used to this making-plans business. “Wade?”

“Yeah?”

“You remember how you said you were in love with me?”

“I seem to recollect something of the sort.”

“Well, I think I love you back. And you know what? It doesn’t feel half bad.”

There was another long pause. “I think I can get out of here by five-fifteen.”

“I’ll pick you up.” She hung up and danced around the counter. “Tory, come on out of there. Might as well be in jail,” she stated, as she pulled open the door.

Tory merely looked up from her inventory list. “You’ve never actually had a job, have you?”

“What would I want one of those for? I have an inheritance.”

“Fulfillment, self-satisfaction, the pleasure of completing a task.”

“All right, I’ll work with you.”

“Have they built a ski lift in hell?”

“No, really, it might be fun. But we’ll talk about that later. Now, you have to come along with me. I’ve got to run home and get some things together.”

“Go ahead.”

“Where I go, you go. I promised Cade. And we’ve played here, your way for…” She checked her watch, rolled her eyes. “Almost four hours.”

“I haven’t finished here.”

“Well, I have. And if we stay here the rest of the day, those FBI people might come back.”

“All right.” Tory tossed down her pencil. “But I promised my grandmother I’d be at my uncle’s by five.”

“That’s perfect. I’ll drop you off there before I pick up Wade. Grab us a couple of Cokes, honey. I’m just parched.” Faith breezed out to freshen her lipstick in one of Tory’s decorative mirrors.

“Since when do you have a reflection?” Tory asked, sweetly, as she brought out the bottles.

Unoffended, Faith slipped the top on the lipstick tube and dropped it in her purse. “You’re just cross because you’ve been holed up in your cave all day. You’re going to thank me when we get out on the road and I open up that beauty of Cade’s. Get some wind in your hair, it might actually have a little style.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my hair.”

“Not a thing. If you want to look like an old-maid librarian.”

“That’s a ridiculous cliché, and an insult to an entire profession.”

Faith stood another moment at the mirror, fluffed her own sleek blond mane. “Have you seen Miss Matilda down at Progress Library lately?”

Despite her best intentions, Tory’s lips quivered. “Oh, shut up,” she suggested, and shoved the Coke bottle into Faith’s hands.

“That’s what I like about you. Always the snappy comeback.” She gave her hair a toss, then started to leave. “Well, come on.”

“You changed things.” Tory scanned the shelves, the cases, noted the small shifts in stock.

Snappy comebacks, Faith thought. And an eye like a damn hawk. “So?”

She wanted to complain, nearly did on principle. But honesty got the better of her. “It’s not bad.”

“Excuse me. I’m so overwhelmed with flattery I feel a little faint.”

“In that case, I’ll drive.”

“The hell you will.” Laughing, Faith danced out the door.

As she followed, locked up, Tory realized she was enjoying herself. Dealing with Faith made it impossible to brood. The idea of a fast ride in an open car held a great deal of appeal. She’d focus on that, just that, and worry about the rest later.

“Fasten your seat belt,” she ordered, as she slid into the passenger seat.

“Oh, right. The air’s so thick you could chew it.”

Faith clicked her belt on, took out her sunglasses, then turned the key. Gunning the engine, she gave Tory a mischievous grin. “Now for some mood music.” She punched the CD button, flipping through until Pete Seeger wailed out about rock-and-roll. “Ah, classical. Perfect. We’re about to see what you’re made of, Victoria.”

Deliberately Tory took out her own sunglasses, slipped them on. “Stern stuff.”

“Good.” Faith waited for a break in traffic, then shot away from the curb in a screaming U-turn. She nipped through the light at the square seconds before it turned red.

“You’re going to get a ticket before you get out of town.”

“Oh, I bet the FBI’s keeping our locals plenty busy. Jesus! Don’t you just
love
this car?”

“Why don’t you buy one of your own?”

“Then I’d miss the fun of nagging Cade to death about borrowing it.”

She crossed the town limits, and poured it on.

The wind whipped over Tory’s face, tore at her hair, and thrilled her blood. An adventure, she thought as they streamed around turns. Foolishness. It had been a long, long time since she indulged in simple idiocy.

Speed. Hope had loved going fast, riding her bike like it was a stallion, or a rocket ship. Daring the devil as she threw her arms high in the air and gave herself to the moment.

Tory did the same now, throwing her head back and letting the speed and the music pour over her.

The smells were summer, and summer was childhood. Hot tar melting under the searing sun, still water going ripe in the heat.

She could race through the fields when the cotton had burst from its bolls and pretend she was an explorer on an alien planet. Do cartwheels across the road and feel the tar go soft under her palms. Into the marsh that was any world she wanted it to be. Running there, running with the ground spongy under her feet, with the moss tumbling down and mosquitoes singing for blood.

Running. Running away with her heart pounding and a scream trapped in her throat. Running—

“There’s Cade.”

“What?” Tory jerked back, light-headed, clammy, her eyes wide and nearly blind as she swiveled her head.

“There.” Carelessly Faith gestured toward the field where two men stood in a sea of green cotton. She gave the horn a cheerful toot, waved, and laughed. “Oh, he’s cursing us now, giving Piney an earful about his crazy, irresponsible sister. Don’t you worry,” she added smugly. “He’ll just figure I’m trying to corrupt you.”

“I’m all right.” Tory forced herself to breathe in, breathe out. “I’m fine.”

Faith gave her a longer, more considering look. “Sure you are. You sure go pale though. Why don’t you—oh shit.”

The rabbit darted across the road, a brown streak of confusion. Instinctively Faith hit the brakes, swerved. The car fishtailed, squealed, and under her firm hands found its balance again.

“I just can’t stand hitting anything. Though God knows why they run out like that. Seems they wait for a car to come along, and …” She trailed off as she looked at Tory again. The snicker escaped before she cleared her throat and slowed down. “Uh oh.”

Saying nothing, Tory looked down. Most of the Coke that had been in the bottle was now splattered all over her
shirt. With two fingertips she pulled it away from her skin and slanted her gaze to Faith.

“Well, gee whiz, I couldn’t run down the little bunny, could I?”

“Just do me a favor and get me home so I can change, okay?”

Tapping her fingers on the wheel, Faith swung into Tory’s lane, kicking dust and gravel into the air as she braked.

Laughing, but cautious, Faith hopped out of the car. “I’ll run some cold water over that shirt while you clean up. Shame to ruin it, even if it is deadly ordinary.”

“Classic.”

“You keep believing that.” Pleased with the diversion, Faith strolled up the steps. “You take your time straightening yourself up,” she said, as Tory pulled open the door. “You need it more than I do.”

“I don’t suppose it takes long to look ready to hop in the next available bed.”

Grinning, Faith followed her into the bedroom, then making herself at home, she opened Tory’s closet and poked through. “Hey, some of this stuff’s not half bad.”

“Get your fingers out of my clothes.”

“This is a good color for me.” She pulled out a silk blouse in a deep, dusky blue, then turned to the mirror. “Brings out my eyes.”

Stripped down to her bra, Tory snatched the blouse and shoved the damp shirt at Faith. “Go make yourself useful.”

Faith rolled her eyes, but headed out to rinse the shirt in the bathroom sink. “If you’re not wearing it in the next few days, you could lend it to me. I was thinking Wade and I could have an evening at home tomorrow night. If things go as they’re supposed to, I wouldn’t have it on that long anyhow.”

“Then it doesn’t matter what you wear.”

“A statement like that just proves you need me.” Faith splashed the shirt around in the bowl. “What a woman wears is directly related to how she wants a man to respond.”

Tory reached in her closet for a white camp shirt, frowned, then eyed the silk blouse. Well, why not?

Tory buttoned the blouse and walked to the mirror to brush out her hair. It needed to be tamed and tied back, she told herself. She was going to comfort her grandmother, to do what she could to help hold what was left of her family together. It wasn’t the time for the frivolous or the selfish now. Though God, she’d needed just that, and wouldn’t forget that Faith had provided it.

Lifting her arms, she began to work her hair into a braid. The repetitive motion, the hum of the ceiling fan lulled her until her eyes were half closed and she was smiling dreamily into the mirror.

She saw the rabbit dart out into the road. A panicked brown streak. Running. Fleeing from the scent of man.

Someone was coming. Someone was watching.

Her arms froze over her head, and the panic tripped her heart. The air went thick, heavy, edged with the faintest taste of stale whiskey.

She scented him, prey to hunter.

In one leap she was at the nightstand, and the gun Cade had given her was in her hand. There was a whimper in the back of her throat, but she closed it off. All that came out was the ragged panting of fear. She rushed from the room just as Faith wandered out of the bathroom.

“I left it soaking. You can wring it out when—” She saw the gun first, then Tory’s face. “Oh God” was all she managed before Tory grabbed her arm.

“Listen to me, don’t ask questions. There isn’t much time. Go out the front, hurry. Get in the car and go for help. Get help. I’ll stop him if I can.”

“Come on with me. Come on now.”

“No.” Tory broke away, swung toward the kitchen. “He’s coming. Go!”

She ran toward the back of the house to give Faith time to escape. And to face her father.

He kicked in the back door, lurched through. His clothes were filthy, his face and arms raw with scratches and the swollen bites of greedy insects. He swayed a little,
but his eyes stayed steady on his daughter’s face. He had an empty bottle in one hand, and a gun in the other.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Tory tightened her grip on the revolver. “I know.”

“Where’s that Lavelle bitch?”

Gone. Safe. “There’s no one here but me.”

“Lying little whore. You don’t take two steps without that rich man’s brat. I wanna talk to her.” He grinned. “I wanna talk to both of you.”

“Hope’s dead. There’s just me now.”

“That’s right, that’s right.” He lifted the bottle, then realizing it was empty, heaved it against the wall where it shattered like gunshots. “Got herself killed. Asked for it. Both of you asked for everything you got. Lying and sneaking. Touching each other in unholy ways.”

“There was nothing but innocence between me and Hope.” Tory strained her ears for the panther roar of Cade’s engine, but heard nothing.

“You think I didn’t
know
?” He gestured wildly with the gun, but she didn’t flinch. “You think I didn’t see you, swimming naked, floating in the water, splashing in it so it ran down your bodies.”

It sickened her that he could twist a simple childhood memory into the profane. “We were eight years old. But you weren’t. The sin was in you. It always was. No, you stay back.” She lifted the gun now, and the trembling ran from her shoulder to her fingertips. “You won’t lay a hand on me again. Or anyone else. Didn’t Mama give you enough money this time? Didn’t she move fast enough? Is that why you did it?”

“I never raised my hand to your mother unless she needed it. God made man head of the house. Put that down and get me a drink.”

“The police are on their way by now. They’ve been looking for you. For Hope, for Mama, for all the others.” The gun jerked in her hand as he came forward. In her mind there was the hiss and snap of a Sam Browne belt.

“You come near me, and we won’t wait for them. I’ll end it now.”