Connecting Strangers (Discovering Emily) (21 page)

His face goes stoic, revealing nothing. “That’s what you think you have on me, what you believe will get me on death row?” Hands tightening, he yanks me forward until I can smell his beer-battered breath. “Like I told you back in that town, you got nothing on me. No fingerprints. No witnesses. No evidence. So good luck trying to prove that in court.” His upper lip curling in a sneer, he leans in so close his lips almost touch mine. “Even if I did kill them, you got no way to prove it.”

I know he’s right, but I’m not backing down, not when I’m so close to hearing the truth from his own lips. “So what made you do it? Because they kept trying to get me away from you? You knew they hated you, and you thought they might succeed in coming between us one day? Or maybe it was because you couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else having a claim on me.”

Storm clouds roll in his eyes, and he gives me a little shake. “Shut up. You hear me? Just shut up.”

“Why? Feeling guilty? How was it to kill someone, Mark? Did you feel sick afterwards? Or did you just pay someone to do the heavy lifting? That way, you could keep your hands clean. Still doesn’t make you any less guilty. Do you still think about it? Still picture my parents on those beds, their eyes closed, lying so still?”

“I said shut up!” Mark shoves me backwards so hard I stumble and slam my hip against the freezer.

Pain takes a back seat to my determination to get to the truth. “It’s hell facing up to what you’ve done, isn’t it? I’ll bet Ike told you just to forget it. Don’t talk about it, and it’ll go away. But that’s why you started drinking so heavily, isn’t it? You know you had a part in taking two innocent lives, and it’s eating you from the inside out.”

“Stop talking about this. It isn’t why I brought you here.”

“Maybe not, but now you want to know, don’t you? You’re standing there wondering if I can shake up your world. No, I don’t have evidence. At least not yet, but we’re looking.” I tilt my head to one side to watch his expression shift from anger to worry. “In case you’re wondering who the ‘we’ is, Sheriff Madison and the state police are helping me.”

My hip is throbbing, but I grit my teeth and plow on. “And if we can’t locate any evidence against you for the murder of my parents, well, there’s always attempted murder on a police officer.”

Mark’s mouth falls open. “What in the hell are you talking about? I ain’t tried to kill nobody.”

“So if you didn’t arrange for the potshot outside the police station, I guess that would have to be your daddy’s handiwork.”

He grows very still, his hands dropping to his sides. “Someone shot at the police station?”

By his pale face, I can tell he’s not lying, and he’s staring straight at me. Lying Mark would be looking everywhere but at me. His innocence doesn’t make me feel better. “Oh, well, then I guess good ‘ole Ike has some explaining to do. Maybe he doesn’t want you with me, after all.”

More head scrubbing. “No. Dad wouldn’t do that.”

“Tell that to the bullet holes in the door.”

“He doesn’t have a reason to kill you.”

“Maybe he’s tired of dealing with your obsession. He thinks eliminating me will help you move on with your life. If I wasn’t the one facing the wrong end of a bullet, I’d agree it makes sense.”

Now Mark’s shaking his head and clenching his fists. I don’t know if he’s angrier at me or his father. He knows Ike’s capabilities, what he’ll do to protect his son. The man has no moral compass so using a police station for target practice would rank really low on his list of sins.

“No. That’s not something Dad would do.” Now he’s frantically scrubbing his head, and the rasping quickly starts to grate on my nerves. I turn away, hoping to leave him to his anguish, but he blocks my path to the outside with the bulk of his body. “I don’t believe Dad would try to hurt you. He knows how much you mean to me.”

I snort and roll my eyes, but he points a stubby finger at me. “You’re just trying to get inside my head, mess with my mind.”

“The last place I want to be is inside your head.” The thought makes me ill. “All I can tell you is that someone fired a bullet into the police station where I was being held. Whether or not it was dear old dad, I don’t know, but if you think Ike isn’t capable of taking a shot at me, you need to review the man’s history.” He starts toward me, but I hold out both hands. “Mark, there’s nothing you can say or do to make me come back to you. We’re over, and if you think you can force your way back into my life, believe me when I tell you I’d rather have no life than one with you in it.”

I’ve never spoken to him so coldly, but I don’t regret anything I’ve said. From the sour look on his face, I know my words have struck hard and deep. He’ll want retribution, and I’ll welcome the battle. This time, I’m not the wimpy, scared girl who couldn’t move in the bed for fear of waking him.

If he wants a fight, I’ll damn sure give him one.

“I’m leaving now, and as long as you get out of my way, we can forget this happened. Try to stop me, and I’ll scream so loudly that newly minted deputy will wet his boxers. If you think he won’t haul ass rather than wait around for another ass-kicking from Sheriff Madison, you’re placing far more stock in him than you should.” The warning doesn’t fall on deaf ears. Though Mark gives me one of his darkest looks, he doesn’t try to prevent me from walking out the door.

The morning chill nips at my face as I walk out. “Let’s get going,” I bark to Rivers who stands staring at the shack until I bang my hand against the side of the car. He jumps. “I said let’s move.”

“But…but…he might need a ride or something.”

“He found his way here; he can find his way home.”

Rivers doesn’t bother to handcuff me before I get into the back of the car. He’s moving in slow motion when he gets into the driver’s side and fastens his seatbelt. “Did you hurt him?”

“You were worried about me a few minutes ago. Now you’re worried about him? Don’t be. Nothing’s wounded but his pride.” Suddenly tired, I lean my head back against the rest and close my eyes. “Unless you want Sheriff Madison to get to Broomtown before you do, which means you’ll have a lot of explaining to do, I’d suggest getting back on the road and picking up some speed.”

In response, the deputy starts the engine and rolls away from the old store. I look out the side window in time to see Mark emerge from it, his hands in his pockets. For once, he doesn’t look like the victor.

Chapter Fifteen

Adam must have broken every speed limit to make it to Broomtown because he’s waiting at the police station when Rivers and I arrive. He meets us at the car, muscles tensed, and a scowl on his face that has the deputy standing behind the safety of the car door.

“Where the hell were you? You detoured from the main road.” He directs the question to the deputy, his gaze lasering every inch of the man’s face. “Did you stop somewhere?”

“I had to use the bathroom.” I lie just to get inside. In Adam’s present mood, he’ll break Rivers in half if I tell the truth.

Gary tips his hat at me. “Francine is riding in with Mr. McAllister. Told me to tell you not to worry.”

I give him a smile. “I’m not worried. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Adam responds with a curious look but keeps quiet as Rivers leads me into the station.

Broomtown isn’t a big town, but that doesn’t stop the local authorities from going all out when it comes to their surroundings. Sheriff Abernathy has made a shrine of his office, the shelves lined with his trophies and signed footballs from local high schoolers that hit the big time once they left town. The wall behind his desk showcases his degrees and accolades, the frames covering much of the paneling. He takes great pride in letting people know how accomplished he is. But none of those awards can make him a good sheriff.

Tall and lean, Abernathy is meaner than a cornered rattlesnake and has been friends with Ike Metzger since they were both in grade school. Their friendship is how Abernathy got the job. With enough money, anyone can be bought into office.

When the sheriff approaches Deputy Rivers and me, his small, white teeth are chewing on a toothpick, and he’s got a scowl on his face. “Rivers, expected you back a bit before now.” He checks his watch, a not-so-subtle reminder that he takes tardiness seriously. Without giving the deputy time to reply, he shoots a glance at Adam, taking in the uniform with a curl to his upper lip. “You must be Sheriff Madison from Juniper Springs.” He doesn’t hold out his hand.

Neither does Adam. He only tips his head in acknowledgement of his name.

“You got a set of balls on you talking to me that way on the phone.” The toothpick bounces up and down.

“Just pointing out ineptitude”

Though the sheriff’s face draws taut, he doesn’t push the conversation further. Instead, he takes hold of my arm. “Why isn’t she cuffed?”

Adam’s gaze drops before returning to mine. He wants an answer to the question, too. And from the look on his face, he doesn’t believe my earlier response.

“Well, sir, she had to go to the ladies’ room, and then we were rushing to get here…” Rivers’ response trails off when Abernathy begins leading me away.

“Hope you had a comfortable trip, Emily.” His tone belies his words.

I remain silent as he unlocks the cell. It’s smaller than the one in Juniper Springs. Dingier. The only piece of furniture is a sagging cot. I walk in without complaint.

“Sally Barker will be by shortly to drop off some sandwiches.” A thin lock of greyish hair droops over his eye. “That’ll have to hold you for a while, maybe even until breakfast. Our budget’s kind of tight this month.” His lips part in a smile that’s more of a leer. “Make yourself at home.”

“I won’t be here that long.” I keep my voice soft and neutral, but the response doesn’t sit well with the sheriff.

When he looks at me, his eyes glitter. “You’ll be here until a judge says differently.”

“I’m required to be arraigned within twenty-four hours of arrest. I’ve already been in custody longer than that if you count my time in Juniper Springs. Since that’s the law, I’m assuming I’ll be seeing a judge any time now.” I check the black and white clock on the wall.

He scowls at me. “Tuesdays are Judge Danner’s busy days.”

“I’m sure he’ll have time to do his job.” I don’t back down when I meet his beady-eyed gaze.

For a moment we square off, neither of us blinking. His lip is curled, hands clenched into fists. I’m sure Ike regaled him with all the tales of my mistreatment of his son. For that reason alone, I’m in enemy territory.

“Sheriff, Mr. Metzger is here.”

I recognize the voice of Willie Samson. He’s been a deputy with Sheriff Abernathy for three years. A nice enough guy, but he’s dedicated to his job and to the sheriff. I don’t expect any favors from him.

“Which one?” A grin spreads across the sheriff’s face.

“Mr. Ike Metzger, sir.”

“Well, now. Things are about to get a little more interesting.” Abernathy’s face relaxes, and he saunters around the corner, his hands in the pockets of his khaki uniform pants.

I scoot to the far end of the cell so I can see the interactions. From the look on Adam’s face, interesting isn’t the word I’d use to describe what’s about to happen.

There’s Ike, walking in like a proud peacock with his alligator boots and rhinestone button shirt. He looks like he just left a country music concert. A quick sweep of his bulging eyes finds me in the cross-hairs, and he smiles.

“Good to see you again, Emily.” He doesn’t have to raise his razor-sharp voice for me to hear him.

“You need to direct all questions and comments to me, Ike.” Abernathy squares his shoulders, a gesture solely for the benefit of the visitors. Ordinarily, he’d be slapping Ike on the back and treating him to a cup of coffee laced liberally with whiskey.

Ike’s lip twitches, and he winks as though this has been planned from the start. “Sure thing, Sheriff. I’m just glad to see you have the woman who shot my son in custody.”

“We do our jobs here.” Abernathy sniffs and walks to the coffee pot that’s atop the receptionist counter. As long as I’ve lived in Broomtown, that particular position has never been filled.

“What time is her hearing?” Ike keeps his gaze glued to mine.

“Don’t know yet. Haven’t heard from the judge.”

“Actually, I just spoke with Judge Danner’s law clerk,” Adam intervenes, though he doesn’t move. “He wasn’t aware you had a prisoner in custody. I guess the prosecuting attorney hadn’t had time to file the appropriate paperwork. Anyway, the judge can see Miss Jacobs at ten o’clock. Good thing I called, wasn’t it?”

Both Ike and Abernathy pin Adam with equal looks of pure fury. “This ain’t your jurisdiction, Madison.” The sheriff spits out each word.

“Judge Danner is a sitting judge for several counties, including mine. It’s not a jurisdictional issue when the prisoner has been in my custody as well. And he likes county to county cooperation.” Now Adam does move forward, his steps slow and controlled. He must have seen the way Ike kept staring at me for he blocks the man’s line of vision. “Miss Jacobs’ attorney is also on the way. He should be here well before the hearing. I’m sure you gentlemen know about her rights and will refrain from speaking to her or asking any questions until he gets here.”

Ike’s face goes red. “Do I know you?” His boots click against the tiled floor as he walks closer.

“No, you don’t. I’m Adam Madison, the Sheriff in Juniper Springs. Miss Jacobs was taken into custody in my county.”

“Uh-huh.” Ike’s familiar sneer is stamped across his face. “Then your work here is done. You might want to stop by Minnerva’s Pancake House before you leave. Best pancakes in Kentucky.” The dismissal is clear.

“I’m in no hurry to leave, and since Kentucky does pride itself on law enforcement working together, I don’t believe the sheriff will have any issues with me hanging around.”

Rivers clears his throat to draw attention to himself. “Sheriff, since my duty is done…” he trails off, working his hand between his hands.

“Your check will be in the mail. Get the uniform cleaned before you return it.” Abernathy doesn’t waste time disposing of him. “How’s your son, Ike?” He places his hand on Ike’s shoulder in a show of sympathy that’s for our benefit. “Heard that arm’s giving him hell.”