Serenity's Deception (Texas Sorority Sisters Book 1) (8 page)

H
e
liked watching her. He liked everything about her. The way she walked, the way she moved, even the way she used her hand to flip back the flyaway strands of gold from her face. That’s who she was, his Goldilocks, and one of these days he’d get to know her better.

She wasn’t even aware he was watching, planning, waiting.

The sound of someone whistling drifted through his open window. With stealth movements, he tossed the binoculars on the seat, covered them with the newspaper, all the while glancing into the side mirror keeping a watch on the intruder. He leaned his head back against the headrest, turned his face in the direction of the open passenger window, eyes partially open, as the whistle grew louder.

A white-haired man approached from behind, still a half block away. Alert, he watched through his web of dark lashes, listening to the crunch of shuffling footsteps moving steadily closer. He willed his body motionless while he waited for Gramps to pass.

Gramps didn’t.

Instead, the snoopy old codger stopped, stood on the sidewalk, bent down and glanced inside the truck window. He hesitated then walked on the grass, a little closer to the truck to get a better look inside the cab. When it seemed that the old man was about to say something, he didn’t. He shook his head, straightened, then stepped away to continue his walk.

Not a muscle moved or an eye twitched until Gramps was almost to the Jeep. With a quick glance around, he made sure there weren’t any more unwelcomed visitors nearby before picking up the binoculars again. He focused on the exchange between Goldilocks and Gramps.

He reached for his cell resting in the case on his belt, pulled it out, and with a flick of his thumb flipped the cover open. After punching in the number, he pulled a pen and pad from the console, waiting, eyes never leaving the little duo down the street.

“Information. What city and state, please?”

“Galveston, Texas. Billy Jo or BJ Spencer. There should be a home number and also BJ Spencer Gallery. I’d like both please. And, Sugar, you’d make me a happy man if you could include the cell number for Ms. Spencer.”

H
e
llo there. I see you’re admiring our church. It’s a beauty, isn’t it?”

BJ turned to see the elderly cleric, Doctor Joseph Freeman, advancing in her direction. His steps a little slower, but the clarity of face spoke to his continued good mental health. She smiled at the sight of him. “Hello, Pastor Joe.”

“Well, I’ll be. My, my. Is that you, dear? Little Billy Jo Spencer?”

She laughed. The years fell away with his words. Once again, she was the small girl and later the teen who visited Pastor Joe’s home, each trip giving her a small taste of family life. “Yes, it’s me.”

“We-lll!
” His face beamed with happiness, his faded grey eyes filled with moisture. “You’re finally back. Oh, I can’t tell you how it makes my heart glad to see you again, dear.”

“Same here. How have you been?”

“Oh, I’m well, very well indeed. Have no complaints to speak of, unless you consider old age a complaint.” He laughed. “But much better now that I’ve seen you.” He walked up and enfolded her in a grandfatherly embrace.

When he pulled back, he held her at arm’s length by the shoulders. After a full, long look into her face, his hands lowered to his side.

BJ felt the loss the moment his hands moved.

“It is you. You are a sight for these old tired eyes.” With a hopeful gaze he asked, “Have you come home to stay?”

“No. I’m afraid I’m just here for the afternoon. I’m heading back to Galveston, where I live now. However, when I saw the church I had to stop and take a few photographs.” She glanced back at the building and saw the streaks of white sunshine changing rapidly into brilliant colors.

“Oh, yes. It’s particularly wonderful this time of evening. Always enjoy coming back from my evening walks. More often than not, I’m in awe of the beauty. I never tire of seeing such a sight of God’s unmistakable promise of love.”

He clasped his hands behind him. Wrinkles graced his face, more than BJ remembered, adding to his character. Though his blue eyes had faded into grey, his look was just as vibrant as ever and held a twinkle and the merriment he was noted for.

“Do you have time to share a cup of tea with me before you leave?”

“I wished I could, but I’m on my way out of town. Maybe next time.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” Pastor Joe’s smile had her wishing things had been different.

“I’ll let you get back to your picture taking before the sun’s gone. But remember to come and see me sometime soon. Have a safe trip home.” He ambled off toward the parsonage that sat a little past the church, leaving BJ with the stirring of memories.

She took several more shots that included the elderly cleric walking away, the Texas sunset changing fast. The clouds’ white-grey appearance of earlier were replaced with hues of pinks and purples, becoming more brilliant as the seconds ticked away. Streaks of sun shot upward into the sky, and the church became surrounded with a halo of light.

Barely visible behind the building sat the Serenity cemetery. Behind the church the large Loveless crypt stood out from the other grave markers and added a touch of old world quality. The tensions of the day faded with each click. Most people she knew didn’t like dusk; it put them in a somber mood. Not her. Sunrise and sunset were the best time of day.

When the colors faded into dusky-grey, BJ packed away her equipment before driving slowly past the parsonage. The warm, yellow glow coming from the front room window spoke of a child’s dreams of a home and family—something she had hoped for but had never experienced.

About three miles outside the city limits, BJ saw the flashing lights of a police car. She looked at her speedometer, but knew she hadn’t driven over the speed limit. She turned on her signal light, pulled to the side of the road, and put the car into park.

She rolled down the window and reached for her wallet.

“Step out of the car.”

The flashing lights made a swirling pattern across BJ’s dash and inside the Jeep. Her heart stopped, pounding hard against her chest. She felt glued to the seat and unable to move as nervous fingers fumbled to release the seat belt. The embodiment of the terrorizing voice who had haunted her for years stood outside her door.

Chief Hank Doggett
. Satan incarnate.

BJ looked out her window only to be blinded by a light. Instinctively, she threw her hand up to shield her eyes. She didn’t want to move out of her car, but she didn’t dare defy the law either. For certain, if she didn’t obey, something worst than a ticket would happen, and she didn’t want to take that chance.

“May I ask why I’m being stopped?”

“Do as I said. Get out of the car. Hands in the air.” Gruffer, meaner than she remembered, he was more agitated, almost violent by her lack of compliance.

 Careful not to make any sudden move, she opened the door slowly, slid from the seat, planting her feet firmly on the uneven ground before lifting her hands as instructed.

“Turn around. Place your hands on the hood, spread your legs apart.”

BJ seethed as her eyes locked with Doggett’s then down at his unfastened holster, hand on the butt of the gun, thumb just below the hammer. The flashlight wavered in his other hand, but at least wasn’t in her eyes anymore.

“Look. I’ve been patient enough for you to answer why you stopped me. I refuse to allow you to pat me down. Either write a ticket for my so-called infraction and let me go, or call a female officer to get out here to do the pat-down. Better yet, haul me to jail.” She saw a flicker of uncertainty in Doggett’s eyes. “I’ll turn it over to my attorney. We’ll see how this all plays out in a court of law. But whatever you’re going to do, get on with it. Otherwise, let me get back into my car, head on down the road, and out of town.”

Deadly eyes bore into hers as he jerked the radio mike from his collar and held it down to his side. “You’ve got a smart mouth, girly. Do you think you can sass me since you’re all grown up?” He released his pistol hold and hauled back his hand ready to strike.

“Go ahead. Hit me.” She stiffened, praying to withstand the blow. “The tape rolling inside your vehicle should catch it all, even if your mic doesn’t, don’t you think?” His hand stopped in midair. She offered him a tight, smug smile as her insides quaked.

He lowered his hand, resting it once again on the grip of his gun. “I guess you think you’re something now that you’re gonna inherit a fortune.” His voice lowered to a harsh whisper, breath foul with alcohol. He edged closer to her, his body mere inches from hers. Don’t count on it, girly. You won’t be here that long.”

Her stomach retched but she held it down by sheer will.

“You might meet with an accident like your ...” Alarm flickered across his bloodshot eyes then was gone. The bluster came back with a vengeance. “Let me tell you something,
trash
, I still run this town. And if I want you gone, you will be. So don’t get all comfortable in that big ol’ mansion.” His face held a nasty smirk. “I have ways of dealing with scum like you. So watch your back. You’re not welcome in
my
town.”

J
a
son turned his dually into the gravel driveway. The family’s rambling two-story farmhouse loomed before him. His folks moved to Tampa a couple of years ago, but before they moved, Jason bought them out lock, stock, and barrel. In the last six months, after adding more land and cattle, it felt like the place finally belonged to him.

Now it may never.

He parked his truck by the backdoor, sat unmoving, wrists hooked over the steering wheel, his head bowed.

Billy Jo—
no, BJ now
—the main component of his thoughts since he’d left Melanie’s, continued to plague him.

Her scent. Her quirky smile. Her timid strength, tenacious spirit. Warmth radiating from her amber eyes. Everything about her hovered in his memory, surrounding him, drudging up the past like an ol’ hound dog digging up a bone. Not much he could do about his mind tormenting him over the woman. Regardless how hard he tried to purge her from his thoughts, she stayed right there, refusing to budge.

He slammed his hand against the steering wheel then rubbed his palms deep into his eye sockets, willing away the ghosts of the past.

“Why? Just when I had my life back on track. Why did this all have to happen now?”

Jason slid out of his truck, slamming the door with more force than necessary. He heard the familiar patting of paws on gravel heading his way. Pepper nudged him with her cool, wet nose, and gave a welcoming
grawf.
He stooped down taking the hound’s jaws in his hand and with the other rubbed the dog’s head and around her long floppy ears.

“How you doing, ol’ girl? Bet your hungry, aren’t you?” He got an immediate response. Pepper’s whole body wiggled, her tail moving faster than a director’s baton at a music festival. “Just a minute. I’ll get you some food.” When Pepper moved to follow him, Jason gave the dog a hand signal. “Wait here, Pepper.”

The Blue Tick hound sat on her haunches. She got up and ambled over to her dog bowl, laid down placing her front paws one on each side of the bowl, her chin balanced on the edge. Her large sorrowful black eyes watched Jason’s every move.

“Now, if you aren’t a pitiful sight. Food’s a comin’.” Jason opened the doors and flipped on the light illuminating the mudroom and a portion of the kitchen. He reached for the bag of dog food next to the boot-bench then went back outside.

Pepper waited patiently until Jason completely filled the bowl then stepped back. She dug in chomping away at the dry food. Jason gave her another gentle pat on the side of her neck. “Have a good night, Pepper. Keep watch.”

The mournful howl of a coyote had Jason glancing off into the distance. Where there’s one there’s generally a pack of them. That could mean serious damage to his cattle. He couldn’t afford to lose any of the calves, the ones that are easy prey to coyotes. He’d have to see about setting up traps tomorrow to relocate the pesky vermin.

“Pepper—” The Blue Tick’s ears perked up. She lifted her head, intently watching her master. “You keep a watch out tonight, girl. I don’t want to lose any of those babies. You hear?”

The hound answered with a soft
rawarff
.

“Good girl.”

The quiet house, most time, was welcomed, but tonight he didn’t like the silence nor the feeling of loneliness. He tromped up the staircase to his bedroom, his feet heavy. The master suite oppressively empty. He hated this time of night worst of all—the time when most men his age were settling in next to their wives, with a couple of kids off in their own room already asleep.

Working out on the range alone was nothing compared to going to bed on your own in an empty house. Yet he was used to it, or at least that’s what he thought until tonight. Billy Jo had disturbed that notion.

He went about the business of getting ready for bed. He’d done quite a bit of remodeling since his folks had moved and his wife Lindsey had taken off. He missed his parents, but he couldn’t rightly say he missed Lindsey.

By the time she’d left, he was ready for her to go. When she skipped town to head to San Antonio and her boyfriend attorney waiting for her there, it had been long overdue. The lawyer hadn’t been Lindsey’s first, but he was definitely her last. What, if anything, could Jason have done differently? What a senseless waste of life.

He willed his thoughts elsewhere. Revisiting what went wrong in his marriage and the death of his wife would get him nowhere. And he was far better off living a solitary life, less complications.

Decisions would have to be made, but not tonight. Undressed, he took off his watch, placed the Seiko in the caddy on the dresser before taking a long, hard look into the mirror. He must have an invisible tattoo emblazoned across his forehead, seen only by women.

Chump.

Bone tired, he flopped onto the bed, pulling the sheet over his body, willing himself to fall asleep, but the order of the night … insomnia. He tossed and turned so many times, he had to get up from bed to untangle the sheets. By two-thirty, he was as fully awake as if it were time to get up and head out on the range.

He wished he could rain down damnation upon his aunt and her insane will. Little good that would do him now. He cursed the day he had fallen in love with Billy Jo, when she found it so easy to walk away with not so much as a
goodbye
.

Yet he’d be hanged if he were to allow pride to dictate his financial ruin.

The will … something he hadn’t expected. If he’d known about what his aunt had intended on doing he would have taken care of business before she died. But each time he mentioned the loans, the range he was purchasing from her, she told him she had taken care of everything.

Man, did she ever!

The ranch was almost to a point of becoming financially successful and well on its way of paying for itself, but not quite enough to pay off the loans or buy the land outright. Just when everything had begun to come together for him, along comes the train, by way of Galveston, ready to derail him. He couldn’t allow BJ to ruin all he’d worked long and hard for. His future was at stake.

A vision of long wavy blonde hair, one hundred and ten pounds of shapely unadulterated woman, popped into his head. He became disgusted with himself when his body reacted like a besotted teen. His mental picture of Billy Jo at thirty-one … more appealing than at seventeen.

His words from earlier came back to haunt him—
If she moves back, I’m steering clear of the woman.
He knew staying away from Billy Jo would be harder than he’d let on to Robby and Melanie
.
Being able to resist her would no doubt prove impossible, but his wasn’t going down without a fight.

BJ.

No secret around town what he had felt about the little slip of a girl who had deserted him. He’d known and loved her since first grade with her hair in pigtails, bows on the tips. Her scrawny little body covered in clothes that never fit. A chip on her shoulder bigger than the world, with a stubborn streak daring anyone to knock it off.

The image of BJ when she was young tugged at his compassion. The image of BJ as a grown woman tugged at his heart and messed with his mind. They grew up together, played together, and fell in love together … or at least that’s what he had thought.

Knee-deep in quicksand with no way out, he sat with one of the largest ranches in the county that could slip through his fingers at the whim of a woman. One he would have never chosen—Billy Jo, aka BJ. She held the key to ruination or success.

Certainly his aunt wouldn’t be playing matchmaker from the grave, would she? How would she know? He hadn’t mentioned BJ for well over ten years now.

If his Aunt Maddie weren’t already dead, he would have loved nothing better than to wring her neck. Instead, he’d have to live with the repercussion from her idiotic bequest.