Authors: Maggie Toussaint
I pinged the area again. My watcher had stopped a distance away. If he were after me, all he had to do was wait here for me. Instead, he’d caught Buster and trussed him up for me to find. I could ask Precious to track the watcher, but the person was quick, effective, and most likely lethal. Knowing his identity wasn’t worth the dog’s life. I’d keep the dog with me.
Buster moaned.
I leaned down close to his face, noting he lay in a patch of blackberry briars. “What are you doing in my woods?”
“My head,” he said. “What did you hit me with?”
I didn’t hit him with anything, but it didn’t hurt to have him think I was a superhero. “I’m asking the questions here. Why are you watching my house?”
Precious barked as if she’d found public enemy number one.
Buster swore, struggled against his bonds, and swore some more. “Shut the blasted dog up. I can’t think.”
“Should have thought of that before you came after me. Why are you here?”
Globs of dog saliva flew from the lab’s mouth, spattering Buster’s back. I made no effort to curb her barking. Buster cringed under the barrage of noise. I hoped he was worried about Precious biting him.
“She told me to come. Shut the dog up, I beg you.”
I leaned close to his shadowed face. “She who?”
“Carolina.”
“Your girlfriend?”
“Christ. How do you know about that?”
“You’d be surprised at the things I know. Why?”
He remained silent. I nudged him with my foot.
“She doesn’t trust you. She asked me to keep an eye on you. That’s all. I swear.”
His aura shifted. I called him on it. “Liar. Try again.”
“I’m not telling you anything.”
“No problem. I’ll mosey on back to the house and call the sheriff. Precious will keep you company while I’m gone. Oh, and thanks to your good buddy, Duke, there’s a mean rattlesnake loose out here. I wouldn’t thrash too much if I were you.”
With that, I hurried home and made the call. While I waited, I swapped out my PJ pants for jeans in the laundry room. I found a clean T-shirt and donned it. No socks or undergarments in this load of wash. And I didn’t want to risk waking Larissa by going upstairs. This outfit would suffice. It wasn’t like the sheriff’s staff expected me to be model perfect.
Deputy Elwood arrived ten minutes later. “I’ve got a problem in my woods,” I said.
Elwood grinned, showing the gap between his front teeth. He looked like he could bench-press two adults without breaking a sweat. “Good. I eat problems for breakfast.”
“I’m fine, Daddy.” Clutching the phone to my ear, I hurried up the sidewalk toward the Sinclair County Law Enforcement Center. “Really, I am.”
“I know better than that,” my father said. “What’s going on?”
A light breeze blew, stirring my striped hair, which was still hanging loose. I wore no socks inside my boots, no bra under my T-shirt. Perhaps I should’ve stopped to fully dress before I followed Deputy Elwood back to the jail.
“I’m going to observe the sheriff question the man we caught this morning. I want to know why he was out there in my woods. That’s what’s going on.”
“You know the man? Is he tied up in that Mallow mess?”
“Yes and yes.”
The line hummed with silence. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Y’all got Larissa off to school all right?”
“Did that. Your mom’s put a pot of soup on to simmer in your crock-pot.”
I stopped before the glass entry doors. “Thanks for everything. I mean that. When this is all over, you and I need to have a long talk.”
“Fine.” He hesitated. “You sure I can’t do something else to help?”
Inspiration struck. I didn’t know how Gail Bergeron was tied up in this mess, but I believed she was a conduit to Carolina Byrd. “Can you keep Gail Bergeron busy and away from here this morning?”
“She’s involved?” His voice rose with each syllable.
“She could be. I don’t know for sure. Best if she’s out of the picture.”
“I’ll ask her to meet me at the funeral home to review my training again. Oh, and Baxley?”
At the tentative sound of his voice, my lungs hitched. “Yeah?”
“Charlotte came by here madder than a wet hornet. Said you were ducking her calls.”
I groaned. “I am, and I feel awful about it. I can’t tell her about the case. And I don’t want to place her in danger.”
“Be that as it may, she’s on her way to you.”
Air eased out of my mouth. “Thanks for the warning.”
With that, I pocketed the phone and entered the building. The air of miasma hit me, and I insulated myself from it. This was no time to get overwhelmed by the despair and malaise in the jail.
Tamika buzzed me right in. Her black hair was styled in an elaborate upsweep, her ample curves barely contained in a sheriff’s office navy blue polo and snug khakis. She gave me a knowing glance. “You get dressed in a hurry?”
I grinned, knowing she’d spotted my lack of a specific undergarment. “Can you tell?”
“Oh, yeah. And all the guys in here’s gonna know, too. The earth is moving when you walk, sistah.”
I thumbed my hair from behind my ears, smoothing the hair forward, wishing I had more length to spill down my chest. “Is that better?”
She laughed out loud. “Get on back there before you cause me to bust a gut laughing.”
I turned to do her bidding but then thought better of it. “Charlotte’s on her way here. I can’t tell you what to do, but the less she knows about this, the better.”
Tamika winked. “Don’t you worry, sugah. I can handle the press.”
The press. That thought stayed with me as I made the trek down the corridor to the interview room. Charlotte was the press, an outsider. I was now tentatively associated with law enforcement, an insider within these walls. Officially, we were on opposite sides of the fence. I wasn’t sure how that made me feel. Charlotte and I went way back.
One thing was certain. Charlotte would pitch a hissy fit, and I was glad I wasn’t Tamika.
Sheriff Wayne Thompson strolled in through the back door. His hair looked freshly showered; his clothes looked freshly laundered. Must have been a good night for him. Not that I wanted details.
His dark eyes warmed at the sight of me. “You just roll out of bed?”
I waved dismissively. “Don’t start. I rolled out of bed, chased a pervert through the woods, and now I’m here to find out why he targeted me. I didn’t stop to dress for success along the way.”
Deputy Elwood exited Interview One. “Got you a present, Sheriff. Found this id-jit hogtied in Baxley’s woods.”
I waited while Elwood filled the sheriff in. “Thanks. Go ahead and get that incident report written. I’ll take it from here.”
Wayne turned to me, amusement lighting his eyes. “You are full of surprises. How’d you get the drop on Glassman?”
I lowered my gaze to seem more demure. “Roland taught me some moves.” I didn’t want to reveal my watcher. If it was my allegedly departed husband out there in the woods, I wouldn’t give him up. There had to be a good reason for him to stay away from us.
The sheriff shook his head. “You’re my dream woman, babe. Smart. Pretty. Kick-ass fightin’ skills. Roland must’ve been in hog heaven being married to you.”
So much in heaven that he hadn’t contacted me in two years. My hand reached for the pendant. Wherever he was, I prayed he was safe.
“We had a good marriage,” I managed to say.
“Lucky you. And thanks to you we’ve got a desperate man on the ropes. I’m gonna lean on him until he sings. You ready?”
Incredulity crept into my voice. “You want me to come inside with you?”
“Yep. Do your voodoo stuff. Freak him out.”
“I don’t do voodoo.” I worked to unclench my fists. “Besides, Buster’s mad at me for not helping him with his online betting. My presence will be counterproductive.”
“Perfect. Angry men make mistakes. Come on.”
With that, we entered the small room. Seated at the table, Buster looked lost without his glasses, but he’d smoothed his wild hair down and tucked his shirt back in. He no longer looked like a terrorist.
His spine stiffened at the sight of me. “Bitch.”
I projected a calm appearance as if his scorn meant nothing. His dark aura seethed and roiled. Noxious emotions surged through his pores. Anger I expected. Fear, too. But there was something else present.
Dread.
He didn’t want his secrets uncovered. A smile flitted through my thoughts.
“Play nice, Glassman.” The sheriff took a seat across from Buster. “This woman just took you down. You are in a heap of trouble.”
Buster rubbed his raw wrists and glared at Wayne. “Screw you.”
“You been Mirandized?” Wayne asked.
The realtor nodded. “Yeah. Write me up and cut me loose. You can’t keep me here.”
“You gonna quote the law to me?”
“Hell, no. I just need to leave. I’ve got somewhere I’ve gotta be.”
“Where?”
“None of your beeswax.”
Throughout this interchange, I’d gotten a handle on his voice. His responses so far appeared to be truthful; now I had a good baseline with which to monitor his forthcoming responses.
“But it is my business,” Wayne said. “I know about your gambling problem. I know about the payments you’ve been making to Vegas. The payments never end, do they?”
Buster swore inventively. He pointed his index finger at me. “She told you, didn’t she? I shoulda known she couldn’t keep her trap shut.”
Wayne got in Buster’s face. “I know you threatened her when she wouldn’t fix your problem. I know you stalked her. Those are criminal activities. Face it. You’re a criminal. And, you’re a murder suspect. My prime suspect.”
Buster surged to his feet. “I didn’t kill anybody.”
“Sit down or I’ll have to shoot ya.” The sheriff had his hand on his service weapon.
Buster melted back into his chair, his spine and collarbone losing their rigidity. His eyes rounded. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill anyone.”
“I’m not buying it. There are big chunks of money passing through your bank account. Money from an offshore account. You’re up to your neck in this.”
Buster swore some more. He studied his curled fingers. He looked up, a cunning gleam in his eye. “The money’s mine. I earned it.”
I was surprised by the truth of that statement. I had no knowledge of the banking irregularities Wayne just revealed, but things looked bad for Buster. He wouldn’t be sniffing around my woods again anytime soon.
The sheriff didn’t so much as look my way. “That’s the thing. How’d you earn it?”
“Family money. Dividends. That kind of thing.”
The lie socked me between the eyes. I inhaled sharply. Wayne sent me a warning look, as if he knew it was a lie, too.
“Try again,” the sheriff said. “Those payments started a few months ago. Ten thousand dollars, regular as clockwork. Your family doesn’t have that kind of money. I know about your daddy’s weakness for the flesh. He cleaned out the estate long ago.”
My head jerked back to Wayne. He wasn’t bluffing. He knew something awful about Buster’s family. A reluctant fascination unfurled in me.
Buster swore again. “It’s all his fault. Bastard couldn’t keep his pants zipped. He slept with anything and everything and pissed our money away. I’ve been scrimping ever since. My mother has certain expectations of how she’s supposed to live. I can’t tell her we’re broke.”
“But you can scare innocent people like Baxley here half to death. With that new cash flow coming in, I’m guessing you found someone with deep pockets. Either that or you stole the money outright when you killed that girl.”
“I did not kill Lisa.” Buster enunciated each word with precision.
“Now that’s fascinatin’. Her name hasn’t been released because we’re still locating her next of kin. You’re up to your neck in this thing. I like you for the murder.”
“You can’t pin it on me. I’m not a killer.”
“The only way you can clear your name is to tell me who killed her.”
Buster’s head wobbled from side to side. “I can’t.”
“You can. Or you can rot in jail. Juries believe circumstantial evidence.”
The sheriff’s lie flared. I suppressed a smile. I didn’t care that he was pressuring Buster. This was kind of fun.
Buster swore. “Nah. I’ll take my chances.”
The sheriff pounded his coiled fist on the table. “You owe me, sucker. You owe me for all the times my daddy beat the tar out of me for not having the Thompson birthmark. You owe me for my mother’s heart being broken when your daddy singled her out, used her, and dumped her when another woman caught his eye. You owe me for keeping her mouth shut because if she’d ever said who knocked her up, my daddy woulda killed yours without blinking an eye.”
That truth clunked around the interrogation room for a solid minute, skittering like a wild top into the walls, chairs, and hapless people caught in its path. The truth flashed lightning bright before me, explaining the heartache, the anger, and so much more about Wayne Thompson. He’d inherited his randiness from his biological father. No wonder he knew so much about the Glassman family. He’d hated them for years.
Buster studied the sheriff closely. “We’re half-brothers?” His thin voice betrayed his fragile feelings. I sensed that he didn’t believe Wayne on one level, but on another, the awful truth ate at him. His father had been a womanizer, as Wayne was now.
“Yep, but you won’t get any sympathy from me. I’d just as soon you rotted in jail for the rest of your natural life. You better start talking, or I’ll make sure your mother knows the truth about my parentage and a few others in this town besides.”
“Others?” Buster’s voice cracked. “I have more relatives?”
“Three sisters and two brothers by my count.”
“Christ. I had no idea.” He paled. “Have I slept with my sisters?”
The sheriff’s face remained impassive. “Tell me what you know about the murder.”
Buster scrubbed his face with his hands. “She’s gonna kill me.”
“Life’s full of choices.”
“You don’t understand. If I say anything, my income vanishes. I’ll be right back where I started.”
“You’re extorting the killer? Then it isn’t me you have to worry about, dummy. I should cut you loose and see how long you make it. Whatcha say, Baxley? He got a day left? A week?”