Diana Anderson - Entering Southern Country 01 - Famous in a Small Town (17 page)

“That’s blackmail!”

He didn’t say anything.

Her shoulders slumped. “So … if I say I’ll stay, you’ll give me a get out of jail free card?”

“Yes.”

She heaved a sigh. “Okay.”

He took the keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. He slid it open. She stepped out into the corridor. She followed him to the door and waited. He opened the door for her. He closed it behind him.

“I need you to sign something in my office before you leave.”

“Okay.”

She stopped beside his office door and waited for him to unlock it. After he opened it, he stepped aside and let her walk through. He walked around her and to his desk. He grabbed a pen and handed it to her.

“What do you need me to sign?” she asked.

 He reached across his desk, picked up the paperback, and handed it to her. She stared down at it for a long moment. He saw her jaw muscles tense as she gritted her teeth. Her eyes flew up and bore through him.

“You’ve been
reading
my novel?”

He nodded. “It’s very good. I’m really impressed. I had no idea you were so talented at fabricating such tales.” He watched the strawberry shaped birthmark flare up. “Wait … this is a work of fiction, isn’t it?”

“Are we done?”

“Well, yes.”

She snatched the book from his hand, flipped open the front cover, and wrote. She tossed the pen on his desk and shoved the book back into his hand. “Would you get one of your deputies to drive me to the Wallaces’?” She turned and walked toward the door.

“I’d be glad to take you.”

“Nope, I’d rather walk.”

“Justin?” Cal said over the intercom.

“Sir?”

“Drive Miss Sawyer home, please.”

“Sure thing.”

He watched her walk out of his office and disappear down the hallway. He looked down at the book in his hand and opened the front cover. He read what she’d written and then laughed. “Oh, Raven Sawyer, you do have a way with words.”

45

Justin opened the front door of the sheriff’s department and stepped aside to let Raven go outside. She walked through and stopped. She scanned the sight before her. Her jaw went slack.

Justin closed the door and stepped beside her. His mouth gaped. “What the … ?”

“Are you Raven Sawyer?” a tall, blonde headed woman asked. She stood at the bottom of the steps.

“Are you Raven Sawyer the author of Shattered Lives?” A dark headed man, with a Chevron mustache, stood beside the woman.

A microphone was shoved into Raven’s face. “Is your real name Agnes Neal?” asked another woman. “Were the man and woman found murdered last Monday your parents?”

The crowd of reporters flooded up the steps and rushed to get their microphone in front of her before the other one could.

Raven leaned the upper half of her body back. Justin tried to wedge himself between her and the reporters. Cameras clicked and some flashed. Voices rose, each one tried to be heard over the other, but all seemed to ask the same questions.

Deputy Porter pulled her squad car into a parking slot, got out, and hurried toward the scene. She wormed her way through the crowd and up the steps.

“What’s going on, sir?” she yelled at Justin over the noise of the crowd.

“Help me get her out of here,” Justin yelled back.

Porter squeezed her body in front of Raven and Justin and then held her hands up. “Y’all need to step back!” she yelled.

Justin steered Raven around, opened the door to the office, and pushed her through. He turned and closed the door. Cal walked into the room and eyed both of them.

“I thought you were taking her back to the Wallaces’ place?”

“I was. There’s a mob out there.” Justin pointed a thumb at the door.

“Mob?” Cal walked across the room and reached for the doorknob.

“I wouldn’t open that if I were you,” Justin said.

Cal looked at him as he noted the seriousness in his voice and then removed his hand. He stepped over and peered through the shade on the window. He looked back at Justin and then at Raven. She stood stock still. Her lips were parted, and she stared off into space. He stepped around in front of her. Her gaze never wavered.

“Raven?” he said.

She continued to stare.

“Raven? Are you okay?”

Her eyes lifted. She blinked several times to focus on his face. “But I killed her. I hid the body. How did they find her?”

Cal’s facial expression changed from concern to dumbfound. His mouth gaped, and then he gave his head a quick shake. “You killed her, who? What body?”

Raven looked down at his chest, her eyes unfocused. “Agnes.” The corners of her mouth turned down.

She weaved. Cal reached out and steadied her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He tossed them to Justin.

“See if you can get to my car and bring it around back. We’ll meet you there.”

“Sure thing.” Justin turned and slipped out the front door.

Cal led Raven across the room, down the hallway, and out the back exit.

Five minutes later, Justin pulled the car around back. He got out and tossed Cal the keys. Cal helped Raven into the front seat and then got in the driver’s seat.

Eighteen minutes later, he walked her through the front door of the Wallaces’ home. She hadn’t spoken a word since she’d said she had killed Agnes.

“Maybe you should go lie down for awhile,” he said as he stood behind her.

She stood in the foyer and stared across the room at nothing.

“Raven?” He peered around her. When she didn’t respond, he stepped in front of her and touched her shoulder.

She looked up at him. “Huh?”

“Go lie down for awhile.”

“They’re not going away, are they?”

“I don’t know.”

“You told them, didn’t you?” she asked.

“No. I didn’t know there was anything to tell. You know more than I do why they were waiting outside for you.”

“I never told anyone, except Becca.” Raven looked down.

“Becca?”

Raven nodded.

“Well, maybe you need to take this up with her. I’ve got to get back.” He eyed her. “Are you going to be okay?”

She shook her head. Her chin quivered.

He reached down, cupped her chin, and lifted her face. “It’s going to be okay.” He watched her expression. “I don’t know why you’re so upset about these reporters. I’d think publicity would further your career.”

“No,” she said with a small head shake. “You don’t understand.”

“I’ve read most of your book, and I know, although you changed the names, it’s about you and your life here and … us.”

“Apparently, you haven’t read all of it.” She pulled away and turned from him.

He stepped around in front of her. “Well, no, I haven’t had time to finish it, but I have a feeling I know how it ends.”

She turned away from him again. “No, you don’t,” she said over her shoulder. Her eyes glistened with tears.

“I swore to you years ago, that nothing happened between your mother and me.”

“I know. I guess I’ve always known.” A tear trickled down her cheek.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her back toward him. He cupped her face again and swiped a tear away with his thumb. He leaned down to kiss her. She jerked away. She wiped away another tear that streamed down her face as she stepped back.

“You don’t want to do that,” she said.

Confusion spread across his face.

“Finish the book.” She turned, hurried across the room, and flew up the stairs.

46

Well, what was that all about?
Callie stood in the kitchen doorway.
What book were they talking about?

Callie walked over and peered through the curtains on the window by the front door and watched Cal drive away.

“Book? Must be a mystery. I do love a mystery.” She tapped her index finger on her chin and then raised her eyebrows. She turned and headed for the stairs. She climbed them and then headed toward Raven’s room.

“Agnes?” Callie stood outside Raven’s closed bedroom door. When Raven didn’t respond, she knocked. “Agnes?”

“Go away!”

“This is my house. I have access to any room in this house. I will not go away. Now open this door.” Callie waited a few seconds and then knocked harder. “Agnes?”

Callie grabbed the doorknob and was surprised that it turned. She opened the door, stood in the doorway, and looked inside. Raven was stretched across her bed on her stomach.

“What are you doing?”

“I told you to go away.”

“Well, I didn’t, and I’m not going to either. This is my home. If there is a problem in this house, I need to know about it. I’m fed up with all of these secrets.”

Raven sat up and with anger in her eyes, she looked at her mother. “You’re the only problem in this house, Mother. You and your insatiable need for sex.”

A small crease formed between Callie’s brows. “There’s nothing wrong with sex.”

“With every Tom, Dick, and Harry that comes along?”

Callie fisted her hands on her hips. “I’m not a whore. And I resent you implying that I am.”

“I’m not implying anything. I’m stating a fact. You are a whore.”

“How dare you talk to me like that!” Callie rushed across the room and backhanded Raven across her face.

Raven fell backwards onto the bed. She touched her lip and blinked several times. She looked down at her fingers. Blood covered her fingertips. She looked up at her mother. “There was a time when I didn’t have to say a word to get a response like that from you or Virgil.”

“He’s your father or
was
your father. A child shouldn’t call their parents by their first names.”

Raven sat up and continued to watch her mother. “You’ve lied so much, you can’t even remember the lies you’ve told, or who you’ve told them to, and if you ever told the truth, you wouldn’t remember that either.”

Callie drew back her hand. When she came down with it, Raven grabbed her wrist before she could make contact.

“Don’t you ever lay a hand on me again.” Raven’s eyes had darkened and pierced through Callie’s.

Callie yanked her wrist free. She backed away and then pointed her index finger at her. “I want you out of my house immediately, or I’m calling the law and having you forcefully removed.”

Callie marched out of the room. She left the door open behind her. She fumed all the way down the stairs and into the den. She walked over to the bar, poured a shot of bourbon, and downed it.

“So much for finding out anything.”

The doorbell rang.

“You want me to get that?” Maggie called out from the kitchen.

“Not if you’re going to bring that damned dog in here with you, I don’t.”

“Pardon me?”

“Never mind, I’ll get it.” Callie set the glass down, strolled over to the door, and peered through the side glass. Several pairs of eyes peered back at her. “What the hell!”

She opened the door and microphones were shoved in her face. She took a step backwards and eyed the men and women gathered on the front porch with cameras, movie cameras, notepads, and microphones.

“Mrs. Wallace? Is your daughter at home?” one man asked.

“Mrs. Wallace? Mrs. Wallace? Is it true that the book is actually an autobiography of your daughter’s life while she lived here in Cypress, or is it a work of fiction?”

“Mrs. Wallace, what’s it like to have a famous author for a daughter?”

“What on earth are y’all talking about?” Callie asked.

“Your daughter is living here in this house, right?”

“My daughter an author?” Callie scanned the crowd. “You must have the wrong address. My daughter doesn’t do anything but take in stray dogs and cause me trouble.”

A woman reached out and shoved a hardback copy of a book in Callie’s face. “Is Raven Sawyer your daughter?”

Callie leaned back away from the book to focus. “I have no idea …” She eyed the cover and then snatched it out of the woman’s hands. Her eyes scanned every word on the front.

“Well, is Raven Sawyer, the author of this book, your daughter?”

She flipped it over and read the short author’s biography on the back. “Why … yes. Yes, she is.”

“Would you mind posing with your daughter’s book for the front cover of our headline tomorrow?”

“Headline?” She looked up and out over the crowd for a moment. She held the book up, tilted her head toward it, and plastered a smile on her face.

The woman reached out, took the book, and flipped it around so the front cover faced the camera. Callie blinked several times when she realized her mistake, but she’d kept her smile.

47

Cal was relieved that the reporters were gone when he arrived back at headquarters. He entered the lobby of the sheriff’s department. Justin was seated at his desk with a paperback book in his hand, staring across the room.

“Did you question everyone at the Inn?” Cal asked.

Justin looked at him. He sniffed, wiped his nose with the back of his hand, and cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. Nobody saw a thing. The security cameras were off. So we’ve got nothing there. I doubt the security cameras worked anyway. They looked fake to me.”

Cal eyed him. “Have you been crying?”

Justin gave his head a quick shake. “Nooo, sir.”

Cal walked over and snatched the book out of his hand. He looked at the cover of Shattered Lives and then at Justin.

“You read this?” Cal asked.

Justin looked away, his face turned beet red. He cleared his throat again. “Yes, sir, I … I’m embarrassed to say that I did.”

“All of it?”

Justin nodded.

Cal handed the book back to him. He glanced around the room and ran a hand over the back of his neck. He was ready for this day to end. He heard a sniff, and he looked back at Justin.

“It’s got a real sad ending,” Justin said as he looked down at the novel that was still in his hand.

Cal watched him.

Justin continued, “And just knowing it’s really a true story …” His head jerked up. He gaped at Cal. “Well, what do I know about such things whether it’s truth or fiction? A good officer of the law weighs the evidence, right?” He gave a nervous chuckle. “Don’t mind me, boss.” He laid the book down, pushed himself away from his desk, and stood up. “I think I’ll go make some coffee.”