Home Is Where Your Boots Are (14 page)

“Three hundred thousand dollars!” I gaped at Jenna Launghall, a barrel ra
cer several years older than me. She
was now spending time behind a clerk’s desk at the county jail instead of riding arou
nd the arena in sequins. S
he was
now
telling me it was going to cost almost half a million dollars to get Cash out of jail. Jenna smiled
.

“You think he’s got enough in there?” she leaned nosily over the desk. I had checked the balance at home after pilfering from his office. It was the one thing in the locked safe of interest. In fact, he did have that much, and then some, which was mighty suspicious considering I knew he’d burned thro
ugh his trust fund in undergrad
and hadn’t been a doctor long enough to replenish its current state.

“Well I guess if it bounces, they can arrest him again,” I retorted sarcastically, flipping open Cash’s checkbook and writing out the check. I ripped it out with a flourish and handed it to her. She took it gingerly and regarded it skeptically.

“Um, can you sign Cash’s checks for him?” she asked. I blew out my breath carefully. Through clenched teeth, I attempted a sweet, non-condescending, patient tone. It didn’t work.

“Power of Attorney,” I bit out
the fib
.

“Ohh,” she nodded knowingly. I eye-rolled in my imagination

“Jenna…
Cash?”

“Oh yeah, hold on a minute, I’ll get him.” She turned and walked off, her overly permed head of frizz separated into black roots and blond ends fanning out behind her
, bless her heart
. I tried to talk myself into not being so judgmental. I mentally apologized. Jenna didn’t deserve what prob
ably should be directed at Cash, w
ho advertently or inadvertently had mixed me up in something the state bar probably wouldn’t approve
of
.

“Lilly?” Cash looked like
crap on a cracker
.

“Ready?” I asked shortly.

“I didn’t really figure on you coming to get me. I mean, Mom and Dad’ll be here soon,” he told me, running his hand nervously through his mussed hair, the fluorescent lights picking up the hints of red.

“Huh. Well, I suppose the early bird gets the snake. Since I’m first, I get dibs. Let’s go,” I responded. He started walking with me toward the door, shaking his head.

“You paid for my bail?” he questioned, gratitude coloring his tone. I quickly dispelled him of that notion.

“Nope, you did. I got your checkbook from your office last night.” I watched him visibly swallow hard beside me, squinting as we stepped into the hot sun.

“Uh, how? How’d you get the key? When last night? I mean what time?” he stuttered and rushed all at the same time.

“From your stuff they took away from you. After I got home. I’m not sure what time it was,” I tossed off. I stopped short beside my Jeep, turning to face him. “Cash, what’ve you gotten involved in?” I asked point blank. His features took on a decidedly defensive mask.

“Are you asking me if I killed Tina?” he managed to sound hurt, indignant, and incredul
ous all at once. I did more eye-
rolling in my head.

“No, but I want to know what’s going on.”

“Well how should I know?” he burst out. “She probably pissed someone
off, and he killed her. And I’m the most likely suspect. They always start with the husband. Or maybe it was an accident
,
and he was aiming for me. It was my house.” I stalled at the pronouns, storing it in my mind and adding it to the growing list of guilty implications that were deftly stacking up against Cash.

“Like I said before, I’m not talking about Tina, although I’m assuming she’s involved.” Cash looked at me warily. I returned the gaze mulishly. I hoped no one was walking by in earshot or that the old biddies in the courthouse weren’t looking out the window. My mother would be down here faster than I could blink.

“Cash… w
hy is there a price list for body parts in your office?” I asked, steeling myself for the answer. He physically stepped back and his shoulders slumped. Cash was a master game-player, but only when he was prepared. He wasn’t now. But Cash’s offense was always a good defense.

“Listen darlin’,” he sneered. I recoiled. “I think you’ve been readin’ too many romance mystery novels lately. I may be involved in something, but
it’s none of your business. D
on’t you go worryin’ your pretty little head about it. Let it go.” A snarling finish, laced with spit on his upper lip, had me narrowing my eyes at Cash in worry. For him. For myself.

“Don’t darlin’ me, Cash,” I pointed my finger assertively; “I’m your lawyer and have a right to know.” A hard set to his mouth erased any trace of flippancy.

“Well as of last night, you’re no longer my lawyer. Remember that. You fired me. Furthermore, I think it’s pretty obvious I’m no longer in need of a divorce.”

He turned on one heel to walk away. Irritation bubbled to the surface. Tina’s death was still lingering in my mind and his casual brush-off pushed me over the edge. Not so much on her behalf, but on principle’s sake.

“Well how about I deserve to know because you owe me.” He stopped and started to slowly turn around. “Because for the past seven years I’ve allowed the town to think our not being together was a mutual decision. Because my compassion for your moral compass kept my tongue in check about you being with Tina behind my back. About me knowing the reason you never called after I left for school was because you were with her. About the fact that I never confronted you because I knew you’d feel you’d done the wrong thing, but as long as I never said anything, you could be in denial to yourself?” I trailed off. “How about because of all that?” I gazed up at him as he walked close and took my upper arms in his hands

He looked tired. And old. And faded. At only thirty, he had too many wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. His hair was thinning and graying. His muscles were loose and sagging. And he was looking at me with defeat and sadness in his eyes. And yeah, the regret was definitely there. Anger was replaced with compassion as I watched him set his jaw.

I had always thought Cash had the rare
,
disarming potential to be an absolutely phenomenal person. I mean
,
like with the potential to do great things and deeds, to touch people’s lives. In certain instances, he has this charismatic, enigmatic presence that’s almost too much to put into real words. That’s about one percent of the time. The other ninety-nine percent
,
he acts like a horrible person, lacking in morals and manners. He peed on prize rosebushes, blew up bullfrogs with firecrackers, broke hearts, lied to his mother, cheated at poker and worked real hard to make everyone hate his ever-loving guts. Ninety-nine percent of the time he earned the reputation, and ninety-nine percent of the ti
me I agreed with everyone. I
t was that
one percent that was my undoing, b
ecause I had been allowed to see the rarest of glimpses into Cash’s potential and what he co
uld be. When we weren’t arguing,
and that charisma and charm, free from its usual manipulation, was bestowed upon me
,
it felt as though wo
rld peace and money on trees were
a possibility. I had always thought Cash had resisted fulfilling his promise because he more enjoyed playing the role of the rakish debonair. But as I looked into his defeat-filled eyes, I saw what my heart had resisted seeing for so long.

Cash was afraid. He’d always been afraid. Maybe he’d been traveling down the road of bad intentions for so long and ignoring the forks that would have allowed him to make a change that his options had all run out. Ca
sh was in his own personal hell
and wasn’t going to be able to talk himself out of it. And I wasn’t a good enough lawyer or a nice enough person to fill that void for him. I struggled with something to say to him, but he beat me to the punch. Cash would always choose easy. I didn’t know if that made him a jackass. Or just easy. Or which was worse.

“I do owe you, Lilly,” he conceded with a sigh and an ironic twist of his mouth, “But you’re asking way too much of me.” He released me and walked off, shoulders slumped and head down.

I had made a decision. Come hell or high water, I was going to figure out what was going on around here. Saturday morning, I resolutely pulled my hot pink running shoes out of the closet and threw on poison green short shorts and a neon orange tank top. I was sitting on the bed, lacing up my shoes
,
when Tally leaned lazily against the doorframe.

“You’re up early. Trying to burn off some sexual angst?” she grinned cagily.

“No. Clearing my head and getting my thoughts straight. I’m going running. Wanna go?” Tally laughed.

“Don’t you remember? I’m allergic to exercise.” I snorted derisively.

“You’re lazy,” I corrected, pulling my hair back with a stretchy headband.

“That too,” she laughed, and then her expression turned serious. “You okay? The only time you ever want to go running is when something’s really bothering you.”

“Something really is bothering me. But I’m okay,” I said, “I need to get to the bottom of everything. I know Scotty’s working it all, but I need to know what’s going on for my own sanity. And for Kelli and Ronnie Duvall,” I informed her. She clapped gleefully.

“It’s about time! Do you have to run? I wanna help.” I looked at her.

“You know, two heads are better than one,” I regarded her thoughtfully. “And three or four are better than two. Tell you what,” I told her, warming to the idea, “Call Fae Lynn and tell her to round up the girls. Between everybody
,
we should have enough circumstantial evidence to fill in the blanks and piece the puzzle together.” Tally was nodding.

“We’ll need lots of cheese,” she said. I stopped and cocked an eyebrow. “For dip, not tailpipes. It helps me think,” she said defensively in response to my expression. I laughed. “And chocolate,” she grinned back.

“Let the brainstorming commence.” I walked out the door and headed toward the dirt road, leaving Tally to plan what was sure to turn into an all out get out hen party by the time she was through. But honestly, with this group of women, there wasn’t a thing that couldn’t be solved or handled. And if the powers of cheese and chocolate only enhanced the process, so be it.

I stretched as I walked, enjoying the balm of the hot brunch-time breeze. I took off, listing the facts I had.

I had someone shooting at Cash. I had Tina dead in a fire
,
and someone trying to pin it on Cash. Or someone taking a second shot at Cash, which was an interesting theory.

I just didn’t think Cash had killed Tina, though. I just couldn’t wrap my mind around Cash actually having the stomach to physically hurt someo
ne. Prevarication was one thing; c
old-blooded murder was completely another. Plus he was too smart (in my mind) to do that to his career. And what was his motivating
factor? Up until our exchange
on the hill, I’d vowed to make sure he didn’t lose any of his assets. Just what kind of assets had I vowed to save? And where did they come from? Why would Cash need that kind of money?

I doubled back and continued with the facts. Implicating, odd medical records in the hospital files. In Cash’s office. A gun-carrying Spencer Locke who bore little resembl
ance to any simple Yankee, who
may or may not have had anything to do with Cash’s situation, but it wa
s almost too coincidental. T
hat discernment I’d asked for was nudging me toward not ignoring it. 
Be careful what you pray for.

Would Cash really do something so depraved? Cutting open dead people to sell their body parts? Maybe even killing for them? What would make Cash do that? His reputation had a
lways been his driving factor, e
ven when it appeared he was doing his best to destroy it.

Brooks Regional was a major donor site. Lots of transplants were done there. Cash was Chief of Staff. It made sense for him to have donor information. But why have an itemized price list that insinuated hearts were more profitable than lungs? What was the point? I wanted to believe there was a logical, medical record explanation for it all. An explanation my background wasn’t aware of.

The problem was
I knew where
all this was
going, but again, why would Cash get involved?

I saw Nonnie’s house in sight and picked up the pace, breath huffing and legs aching. But that didn’t account for Tina’s awful and seemingly timely demise or the attempt on Cash’s life. She didn’t die from an overdose of diet pills; someone obviously killed her. I sprinted the fifty yards to Nonnie’s, sighting her in the flowerbed with her roses. She waved me over.

“What’s wrong?” She snipped at dead leaves. I put my hands on my hips and wiped some sweat off my face.

“Just trying to decide who’s guilty around here,” I told her, picking out some weeds. “And what they’re guilty of.” She bent down to toss out some leaves.

“Well as a
rule,
it’s always the quiet ones, or someone who’s in love, or someone who’s been trying to hide something for a long time. Or all of the above.” She informed me matter-of-factly and nodded. “That’s what always happens on
Law and Order
.”

“I don’t think Cash falls into any of those categories.”

“That’s bullshit. He’s got some good in him, but you’re about the only one who can bring it out. And as bad as he’d like to be good, he can’t stick with it for very long. He’s weak, honey. Always has been. He can’t stay away from you, but he can’t stay with you either. He took up with that Tina because being at her level was easier than living up to your expectations.”

Noticing my morose expression, she reached up and took my face in her hands. “But you don’t need me to tell you all this. You knew it a long time ago.”

“Nonnie, do you think Cash killed Tina?” She laughed and rolled her eyes.

“No,” she waved her arms again and laughed, quite sincerely, “He’s not strong enough to follow through with something like that. If he were, he’d have killed her a long time ago.” Laughing and shaking her head, she headed into the house, leaving me to contemplate that assertion.

xxx

The icy blast of the air conditioner slammed against my skin, bringing goose bumps as I walked out of the bathroom. I’d showered and was all decked out in a chocolate and jade patchwork sundress, my reclaimed boots
,
and chunky gold jewelry. My hair had been light-socketed via the blow dryer
,
and I’d stolen some of Tally’s signature lip gloss. Gone was the pruney, pinched look I’d been sporting. This chick was ready to roll. I’d made the symbolic gesture of handing over my three hundred dollar straightening iron to Tally, raided her closet
,
and allowed her to commandeer my subtle makeup shades. It was amazing how much more comfortable I was not blending in. I’d probably always have a ramrod sense of what I thought was right, but at least the knots of tension I’d been carrying around were finally loosening. The door swung shut behind me as Tally came out of her bedroom, holding the cordless phone. She plopped jointlessly on the overstuffed sofa and crossed her long legs.

“We’re on go,” she stated without preamble. I nodded affirmatively.

“Everybody?” I asked.

“Fae Lynn’s callin’ the troops. Do you think we should call Mama and Nonnie?” I shook my head.

“I think the less we have involved, the safer we are,” I told her. I was beginning to sense the danger in being near Cash Stetson, definite doer of dastardly deeds. I didn’t want to put my family in harms’ way any more than necessary. And Nonnie had a history of rash reactions

“I agree,” Tally said.

“We’ll call them if we need them,” I told her, “Until then, let’s hold off.”

“So what’d you come up with?”

“Not a lot. And too much. I really don’t like where my thoughts are going. A lot
of facts seem to be connected, a
nd all roads lead to Cash Stetson. And a
fork in the road seems to take you to
Spencer Locke.”

“I agree. Sissy, I hate to tell you this, but if I was a bettin’ woman, my money’d be on Cash being guilty of something.” This gave me slight pause.

“You? You’ve always defended Cash. I thought he could do no wrong.” She shook her head vehemently.

“I’ve always loved Cash like a brother, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see through his bullshit. The only reason I never said anything was because you always seemed so sure of yourself, and frankly, I was just the little sister.” I did my best not to roll my eyes and then went ahead and gave in.

“You and Fae Lynn are some pair. I wish everyone would get over the fact that they think I have my act together, because I’m pretty sure the culmination of the last few months has shown that I most certainly do not. Next time, little sister, please don’t refrain from telling me what you truly think. Deal?” She softened and nodded.

“Deal. But one more thing.” I braced myself.

“I could never stand Van.”