Shine On (13 page)

“Well, Gabe got a piece of my mind last night. Vince and I will talk when he gets back. And that’s not even the worst thing that happened yesterday.”

That piqued Trick’s curiosity. “Something worse than Gabe and Vince not telling you Emmie’s dad was the guy who took our money and ran… and now we are stuck down here till we can find it? I can’t wait to hear what else happened last night.”

“This hillbilly that looked like he hadn’t showered in a month came in running his mouth about our joint. Says he knew we recently lost all of our moonshine flow, that we’d recently been stiffed some money, and that our businesses were looking for some new partners,” Silas explained.

“What did you tell him? How did he know all that? Did a lot of folks around here know that James was buying from Ronnie?” Trick fired off the questions without giving him time to answer.

Silas shrugged his shoulders. “Wish I knew more than I do. I don’t like him knowing all that shit though. Makes me wonder if he was talking about the money Ronnie owed. You know all along Vince has been saying he bets our money is in the hands of whoever killed Ronnie. This guy maybe is the lead to follow.”

“Did you get any info outta him?” Trick asked.

“Not much. We know that man was just a mouse sent in to test the waters with us. Roughed him up a little bit and he squealed like a pig. Sam Young is the man we need to talk to. Gabe is going to set something up the end of this week. You want to come?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Trick smiled. “I think you’re right, especially now that we know Emmie is Ronnie’s only family. If she is hiding that money, she’s got nothing to show for it.”

Silas nodded, agreeing with his brother. Last night he remembered a conversation he’d overheard between Emmie and Mr. Thomas. She had asked him for a raise, talked about needing money for the mortgage and school. If she had the money she wouldn’t be begging that man for extra cash. Vince was probably right. But that didn’t make it right that they had lied to him.

“So what are you doing to do about Emmie?” Trick asked, finishing the last drink of his coffee.

“I don’t know. You think I should cut it off with her? I mean that’d be the best thing to do, right?” Silas asked.

Trick wouldn’t have been more surprised if pigs had flown through the kitchen. His brother had never ever, in his entire life asked him for advice. “I think you should do whatever it is you want to do. But I will say this, would you have even questioned what to do with any of those other gals you’ve been with?”

Silas thought about it for a second. “No, I would have left without thinking twice,” he shrugged.

“So maybe this is different, you said yourself you wouldn’t have even questioned it before… Maybe you should just stick with it.” Trick really thought his brother deserved a little something good in his life. He’d really never seen him as happy as he was last night at the speak and Emmie seemed like a good girl.

Silas stood, nodded, and walked out the kitchen door without another word.

***********

By the time he got dressed and made it to Emmie’s, it was nearly eleven. He knocked on the door only to find no answer but a barking dog. He knocked again harder and this time the door actually squeaked open.

“Emmie…. Emmie….” he called a few times before he crossed over the threshold. He let himself in and closed the door behind him. She was gone but couldn’t be far. Her purse was sitting by the door and there was a cup of coffee on the kitchen table. And the dog was locked in the house.

“Easy there boy,” he said. The dog stood at attention and barked at him. Clearly he wasn’t a fan of strangers coming in his house. Silas eased past the dog into the small kitchen. He found some apple scraps on the counter and handed them over.

“See there boy, I’m a friend.” He approached the dog cautiously. The dog took the treat and wagged his tale. “Some guard dog you are,” Silas laughed then took in his surroundings.

The farmhouse was small. Downstairs there was a kitchen, staircase and then a small sitting room. In the back of the house there was a tiny bedroom barely big enough for a bed and a chest. It didn’t look like a woman’s room though. There were no powders, shoes or dresses. He spotted a pair of men’s work boots in the corner.

This must have been her stepfather’s room. He walked back to the front of the house and went up a couple stairs until he was tall enough to see the loft. This was her bedroom—still small but full of her things. He recognized the shoes she wore last night. The slip she wore the first time he saw her at the pool was draped over a chair in the corner. There was a stack of books next to her bed. He smiled, glancing around. This space fit her. Simple, eclectic, and it smelled like heaven in here. What in the world was she cooking? He stepped down and walked back to the kitchen. The kitchen table was stacked with jars all covered with a little blue checked cloth.

Silas picked one up and held it in his hand. It was still slightly warm. How early had she gotten up to start canning? He hadn’t dropped her off until after midnight. She’d probably gotten up and started cooking before daylight. He smelled the pot that was still dirty on the stove. It only had the a little bit of applesauce left. Mmm… that smelled delicious.

He sat down at the kitchen table and waited. The dog whimpered and Silas found more apple scraps. She surely wouldn’t be gone long. His eyes glanced back to the end of the house again, Ronnie’s bedroom. His mind flashed back to that night. There had been four of them on this property that night: Gabe, Trick, Sheriff Drake, and himself. He had come to this house that night but it was all locked up. James had told them he was pretty sure Ronnie’s still was on this land by the way he’d been bragging about it at the pig. They’d been walking around searching for it when they heard the gunshot. By the time they got to the car Ronnie was already dead. Shot in the chest right there in the driver’s seat of his car. The old man had stopped dead in his tracks when he saw them—Strangers, Suites, Guns, Badges. He looked scared to see the four of them standing there. When he composed himself he said he lived just down the way and had come running when he heard the shot. Silas never believed that. That old man was out in the woods for something that night.

Sheriff Drake, an old friend of the DeCarmilla family (meaning on their payroll), had assured them that the old man was no threat. So, they had let him go. It had been Silas who convinced the sheriff to start the fiery crash, after they checked the car for the money. He didn’t want folks around town to start asking too many questions about the murder. Silas needed to be able to handle this one without the hassle of dealing with the local police. Ronnie had a reputation as an alcoholic; it was better that everyone just thought he’d had an accident.

Without realizing what he was doing, he found himself in Ronnie’s old room. The dog followed him, cocking his head to the side. Silas ignored him, glancing around for anything that looked odd. He looked in the drawers for false fronts, nothing. He quickly looked under the mattress, nothing. Double-checked the pillows, nothing. He was getting ready to leave when something on the floor caught his eye. Next to his work boots one of the wooden slats of the floor was slightly raised. He bent down and slid his finger along the slot until he could pry it up. Sure enough there was a small box. Opening it up there was a letter to Emmie and under the letter was a stack of cash. A quick count of the money showed it was over $700. It wasn’t all the money he had owed but it was a pretty good chunk. He quickly stuffed the money in his vest pocket. But then he couldn’t move. He should just take that money and leave. It was their money… his money. It was not hers. He flipped the envelope with her name on it over and over in his hand. He wondered what the note said. Should he read it before he took the money? No, of course not.

He reached in and took the money out of his vest and put it back into the box and replaced the floorboard. What was wrong with him? He just needed time to think through all this. It wasn’t all of the money anyway. He’d follow the hillbilly’s lead to this Sam guy and then decide what to do with all of this.

He walked back to the front of the house as quickly as his feet could take him, before he came to his senses and tried to get that money again. As he reached down to grab the knob of the front door it popped open smacking him right in the face.

Chapter Twenty-one

“D
amn it,” he shouted. That was a pretty good hit.

Emmie stared back at him with her mouth open wide. “Oh Silas, I am so sorry!”

Spotty danced from foot to foot barking for her attention. She reached a hand down but he jumped away from her. He padded back to Ronnie room, barking at the door. She shushed him, leaned up and gently touched Silas’s face.

When she came into focus he noticed her face was red and splotchy. Her eyes were swollen and glassy.

“Emmie girl, what’s wrong?” he asked, his tone softer now.

She shook her head and felt her eyes fill up with unshed tears again, as she turned and walked away from him.

“Nothing. It’s nothing,” she repeated.

He didn’t believe that but was unsure how far to push her. Had she somehow seen him digging through her stepfather’s room? An unexpected wave of guilt rushed through him. He did his best to brush it away. He hadn’t taken the money… and even if he had, it was his. There was no reason to feel any shame. He made a halfhearted attempt to reason with himself but it did no good. He still felt bad and he didn’t like it. The dog barked again, prancing in front of the bedroom door. Apparently the dog didn’t like it either. Silas glared down at the dog, willing it to shut up.

Silas walked up behind her at the stove, put his hand on her shoulder, and rubbed it down the length of her arm.

“You can tell me things, you know.” He hoped she found those words comforting. He never really knew what to say at times like this.

She nodded, keeping her back to him. Emmie was having a hard time keeping the tears that threatened to leak over to her cheeks at bay. She grabbed the applesauce pot and quickly put it in the sink. She plunged the cooker into water and began rinsing it out.

Fear. She felt fear. Fear of being caught, fear of her mistakes, fear because she didn’t know what in the heck she was doing with anything in her life anymore… Fear overtook her and came out as a sob. She rested her hands on the counter to stop their shaking.

Silas pulled her into his arms, saying nothing. Sometimes if he couldn’t find the right words to say in a situation, he would just jump to action. Granted, if he couldn’t find the right words the next action was usually more violent than hugging… but it was the same principle. To his surprise she hugged him back. He felt her hands dig into his vest. He rubbed her back, then her hair, brushing the ebony waves away from her face. When she finally calmed he pulled away from her a little bit, put his hand under her chin, and brought her eyes to his.

“Whatever it is, it will be okay. I promise, Em.” And that’s when he knew without a doubt he would weather whatever this storm was through to the end. He didn’t make promises to anyone that he didn’t intend to keep.

She swallowed hard and nodded. Just when he was sure she wasn’t going to tell him anything she started to speak, “I’ve been up on the hill. At my mama’s grave, talking to her a little.”

Silas only nodded. He’d learned from working with people at the law firm, and in other affairs, that when people started talking it was best to shut up and listen, even if it left long awkward pauses. Which is exactly what was happening right now. It was a good three minutes before she started talking again. She just pulled away from him and continued cleaning up her canning mess.

Emmie sighed and continued scrubbing the pot. She washed it much longer than necessary. She just couldn’t quite get it clean enough to convince herself there was no way Silas was going to smell the moonshine in it. Maybe she should just tell him. Secrets never led to anything good. She knew that. But after he hugged her so tight and made her feel so safe, Emmie was afraid to risk what might happen if she told him what she’d been up to. She knew there was no way he expected what she’d actually been up to this morning. It wasn’t really her character, so she didn’t have to feel guilty about it, right? Wrong. She felt awfully guilty. Maybe Walt was right. It was time to just put this ugly mess behind her.

“Ya ever feel like you’re just messing things up over and over again? Like when something bad happens and then you just make the wrong choices trying to make it better. Then find out you are in even worse shape than when you started?” she asked, drying the dishes.

The dog started making an awful racket in Ronnie’s room. He was whining and clawing at the floor. She pulled him by the neck and closed the bedroom door. The dog sighed and lay down in front of the door.

“You have no idea,” he muttered under his breath staring at the dog. He opened his mouth to try explaining his comment but was startled at her reaction. She was smiling. “Misery loves company?” he asked.

“Something like that I guess. I just let a friend down today and I feel awful. That’s just one of a thousand things lately. Mr. Thomas is a horrible man to work for and I dug myself into that deep mess. And school… I’m starting to think that dream’s already set sail. I mean I’m already twenty-one. Ronnie wasn’t a fan of the idea. Then when he died… I thought, maybe I could work it out,” she paused for a second looking up at him. “Isn’t that awful that I thought that? Of course, I was sad that he passed but I need to take care of myself.” She tried to explain and hoped that he understood. He nodded in approval of her thoughts. “You know, I think today’s just turned into an Emmie pity party,” she laughed trying to make a joke of all the things she’d just told him.