Going to the Bad (29 page)

He'd assumed the monthly payout, which he'd stopped, was an act of charity to an old family friend. Once I told him about the robbery, he wondered if it was blackmail. He and Erabelle confronted Warner. Leland, to no one's surprise, had refused to discuss it.

Then Rod had called on instructions from Bud and changed everything. The news that Erabelle's brooch had been pawned frightened Warner into being honest. Everyone, including Rod, had agreed that swift action was needed to destroy the body and pay off the Kings. Otherwise the murder might be exposed.

We were interrupted at this point by another knock on the door. Warner was ready to see us. I started to follow Rod and Junior out into the hallway.

Erabelle stayed sitting.

“Aren't you coming?” I said.

“No.” She began picking up mugs and placing them on a silver tray. “I'm never going to see my brother again.”

“You made it clear yesterday that you didn't like him. Why take a stand now?”

“Certain facts came to light last night.” She gestured in the direction of Leland's room. “You'll hear for yourself.”

I caught up with Rod and Junior in the hallway.

The nurse stood holding the doorknob. “He's weak and shouldn't have too much stimulation. Don't discuss anything controversial or alarming.”

I smiled. “Wouldn't dream of it.”

Christmas Day, 10:31 a.m.

T
he nurse shut the door behind us. Unfortunately the
second nurse remained in the bedroom.

Leland Warner ran his eyes over our bruised and bloody trio. “I take it things did not go well.”

I walked to the edge of the bed. “We need to speak privately.”

“What on earth happened to your face? You need stitches.” He pointed to the nurse. “Get an ice pack for her immediately.”

Rod stepped to the other side of the bed. “Your son and that henchman tried to kill her. Considering she's the main reason Bud wanted this mess kept secret, I don't think he would have approved.”

Warner turned to the nurse. “Never mind about the ice pack. Just get out.”

“But, sir, the doctor—”

“Get out,” he roared.

She obeyed. Warner took a moment to calm his breathing.

Junior took advantage to try to tell his side of the story. “She recorded video of me with the body. What was I supposed to do? Let her put it on TV?”

Rod looked ready to fight again. “There were other ways to handle it.”

“The thing is, I got a good look at his expression just before he did this to my face. Your son enjoyed it.” I stayed looking at Warner, but hooked my thumb back toward Junior. “How many of his ex-girlfriends have you had to pay off to keep them from pressing charges?”

I could tell by Warner's expression and Junior's sudden silence that I'd guessed correctly about his history of violence.

Warner looked past me to his son. “You're bleeding. Go get some medical attention. I'll handle this.”

“She still has the video. I'm not leaving until I know it's been erased.”

Warner didn't raise his voice, but maybe real power means you don't have to. “Don't talk back to me. I'll handle it.”

Junior walked toward the door. “Remember, I was out there cleaning up your mess.”

Warner waited until his son was gone and the door had closed. “Do you still have this video you shot of my son?”

I nodded.

“Is it very incriminating?”

“Yes.”

“Destroy it.”

“I want the truth first.” I looked from him to Rod. “Was that Carter King's body and did Bud kill him?”

Warner paused to suck some oxygen through the tube in his nose. “Yes to both.”

I waited for Rod's answer.

“Yes.”

Maybe I don't have the best judgment when it comes to reading people, but they both looked genuine to me. “Then who shot Bud yesterday?”

Warner shook his head. “I have no idea.”

Rod also shook his head. “He was conscious when I found him, but he didn't say anything about his attacker.”

My voice rose. “How exactly did he forget to mention
that
?”

“He was hurt. Bud drifted in and out of consciousness and didn't always make sense.” Rod paused to rein in the emotion that threatened to overtake him. “But he knew someone had dug up the jewelry and was terrified Carter King's body would be
discovered. He made me promise you wouldn't find out what he'd done.”

“I'm sorry, but you're going to have to break that promise and tell me.”

Warner got testy. “We already told you the truth what—”

I cut him off. “You told me Bud killed him. I want to know the how and the why.”

Warner looked at Rod.

Rod steeled himself. “They were both drinking. They argued. Bud went too far.”

A piece of my heart broke. Not because Bud had got drunk and killed a man, but because Rod was lying. Under different circumstances I might have celebrated my being able to tell, but at this moment when I'd been able to truly know him, we'd never been further apart.

I suddenly felt too tired to keep standing and sat in one of the wingback chairs by the bed. “Then why the secrecy?”

“He killed a man with his bare hands.” The disgust was evident in Warner's voice, despite his labored delivery. “There are no extenuating circumstances for that. At least not in the eyes of the law.”

His tone made me feel defensive, even if what he said was true. “What did Bud and Carter argue about?”

Warner shrugged. “Something trivial, I'm sure.”

“You weren't there?”

“Mida King called us for help after it happened. She was sympathetic to Bud and didn't want him going to jail. He was a veteran and a firefighter. Not to mention that your father, whom she cared for very much, would have lost his only living relative.”

I didn't buy it. “Was she setting you up for blackmail? How much money have you given her over the years?”

Warner's heart-rate monitor rose. “It wasn't like that. Our mothers were close and Mida was almost family.”

“Just not the kind of family you invite to Thanksgiving or tell anyone about.”

“Her parents and brother were dead. She was all alone and I promised I'd take care of her.”

This actually gelled with Mida's calling him Cousin Leland. I wondered if they'd each cloaked what was basically a quid pro quo—in exchange for a check every month, Mida let them bury Carter's body at the farmhouse and lied to the police—in the veils of family and friendship. Maybe they each needed to do that for his or her own self-respect.

But even with those self-deluding veils, I was surprised Mida had been so mercenary as to sell out her brother's memory. Carter had been branded a thief for stealing the jewelry.

Which brought me to my next question. “Why is Erabelle not speaking to you?”

“That's between the two of us.”

“Did you stand over Carter King's body and tell Bud you'd help for a price? Did you make Bud promise never to see her again?”

“If you mean, did I protect my sister, then yes.” The heart-rate monitor rose again. “Would you want your sister married to someone who'd just killed a man—and that's leaving out how unsuitable he was to begin with?”

“No, I wouldn't, and I can actually excuse you for that. Maybe Erabelle could too, but I don't think she can excuse the jewelry.”

Warner didn't flinch or take his eyes away, but all the same, something in his expression looked guilty. “We needed a credible way to explain Carter's disappearance. The theft of the jewelry did the job perfectly.”

Rod eyed the medical equipment. “Let's try to take everything down a few notches. Remember what the nurses said.”

I ignored him. “You could have pretended Carter stole something that belonged to you. Instead you stole from Erabelle.”

“She would have gladly given Bud the brooches if she'd known he was in trouble.”

“Yes, but it would've been her choice, and even if she'd given up the jewelry, she would've still had Bud. You made sure she lost both. You wanted her completely dependent on you.”

“You think I like being responsible for everyone? You think I like having to save them from their own idiocy and poor judgment?” His hand went to his chest and he had to struggle to keep talking. “But you protect the people you love. You fight for your family and do your duty.”

An alarm sounded on the medical equipment. The nurses rushed in.

“Both of you, out,” one said as she cranked up the oxygen. “I told you not to upset him.”

As we walked out, the other nurse was putting a nitroglycerin tablet under Warner's tongue.

I stopped at the open door to the sitting room with the intention of talking with Erabelle. She sat listening to the medical drama unfolding in the next room, but showed no sign of going in.

I raised the phone. “I'm erasing the video.”

Erabelle nodded. “You didn't believe me earlier, when I said I'd never see my brother again.”

“That's the kind of thing people say in the heat of the moment, but don't mean.” I glanced back at Warner's bedroom. It sounded as if his attack was receding. “But I understand now.”

“I thought you were someone who might.” A small flutter of emotion passed through her body, but she quickly suppressed it. “I'm sorry about Bud. Is there any hope?”

“People say there's always hope, but . . . usually there isn't, really.”

Rod and I left. I paused at the landing to look out at the oil field one last time. Through will and intelligence Warner had obliterated his father's orchards and created this new landscape. He'd
gained power and money, as well as provided people like me with gas for our cars. All the same, it didn't look like a happy trade.

Junior intercepted us at the front door. “I want proof the video is destroyed.”

We kept walking. “There is no proof. You just have to take my word for it.”

“That's not good enough.”

Rod pushed open the copper door and held it for me. “I saw her erase it. The video is gone.”

Frank stood outside with my news van.

“How did you find it?” I said.

“I called Brandon King and asked him to check up on the ridge.” Frank smiled. “Once I knew it was there, I sent two of my men to get it.”

I laughed. “How did Brandon react to finding a news van parked near his meth lab?”

Frank flinched. “I have no idea what he's doing there, but, as you say, he was very unhappy. I promised him you'd be minding your own business from now on.”

Rod looked confused. “How did they even get it started?”

Junior indicated the bloodstain on his shirt. “Your girlfriend scratched me with her keys.”

“I think you mean
stabbed
,” I said, although truthfully it was probably little more than a flesh wound.

Junior, inflamed by my minor dig, pointed to the van. “I want all her video equipment confiscated. Any tapes or cameras in the vehicle are not to leave this property.”

Frank looked confused. “Sir, she didn't have access to this equipment in the oil field. There's no way she recorded you on anything in the van.”

“I don't care. I want it all.”

“He's just trying to be a jerk,” I said. “Which is sad and a little pathetic.”

Frank appeared to agree, but took the keys around to the rear of the van.

“Hold on.” Rod followed. “This van and everything inside is the property of KJAY.”

“I couldn't care less,” Junior said. “It's not leaving here.”

Frank stepped back from the open rear hatch. “Lilly, do you have some kind of animal in the back here?”

That's when I remembered Thing.

I turned to Rod. “It's that dog again. It keeps sneaking into my stuff. I saw it playing around under the tarp just before I left the van. There wasn't time to do anything about it.”

“Your dog? How domestic of you.” Junior pushed Frank out of the way. “Unfortunately, I may need to inform animal control that it's vicious and needs to be put down.”

I felt an unexpected surge of maternal instinct. “You hurt my dog and I will break more than that hand.”

Rod looked at me in surprise, but then added, “That dog is our personal property. We'll sue if anything happens to it.”

Junior smacked the tarp where it moved. “I think it's getting riled up. If it attacks me, Frank may have to fire his Taser at it.”

Junior hit the tarp again.

“Stop doing that,” I yelled. “He's just a little dog. He never did anything to you.”

Erabelle had come out. “What's going on? Why is there shouting?”

Junior reached for the edge of the tarp. “Get ready, Frank.”

I grabbed Frank's arm before he could remove the Taser from his belt. “That many volts could kill a small dog.”

Junior whipped back the tarp. I had visions of Thing's leaping out and defending me, which was exactly the excuse Junior needed to kill it.

But I needn't have worried. Thing didn't leap at Junior. Thing didn't bite him. Thing didn't even pee on him. Because Thing wasn't under the tarp.

A thirty-foot python was. I sooooo owed Freddy an apology.

The snake bowed up. Its mouth opened and a loud hiss sped past its huge fangs. Junior screamed. I don't mean he cried out or yelled for help. I'm talking primal-scream time. Everyone jumped back as the snake lunged. Junior, being the closest, couldn't get away. The fangs shot straight into his thigh. He fell to the ground with the animal still biting him.

That's when the rest of it began slithering out of the van—and there was a lot of snake to slither out.

Frank raised the Taser, but Junior kept moving and screaming so Frank couldn't get a clean shot.