Chapter Nineteen
I went back to the Magnolia Room and sat in a rickety folding chair in the rear. I’m not ashamed to admit I bawled my eyes out. I got a few stares, but I figured I was at a wake, it felt like an appropriate place to cry. An elderly woman brought me a box of tissues and patted my back.
“There, there child. It's the way of life, from ashes to ashes and dust to dust. It was Sloan’s time to go.”
It was Sloan’s time to go.
Was it my time to go? I didn't have a flash drive to give to Daniel Crocker. I had no idea what was supposed to be on the flash drive. Maybe I should go to the police.
“Let me get this straight, Ms. Gardner. Your mother and a bartender were killed all because of a flash drive a customer who showed up at the DMV asked for. And what is supposed to be on this flash drive?”
The police were out.
I was out of my league here. I had no idea what to do or who to turn to. And then I did. Joe. He’d offered to help me before. Maybe he could help me now.
I pulled my cell phone out of my purse and saw I had missed five calls and one message from Joe.
Rose, please call me back. Please. I have to talk to you.
I moved to the lobby and dialed Joe’s number. He picked up on the first ring.
“Oh, thank God. Where are you?”
“I’m at Sloan’s visitation.”
“You’re what?” His voice was cold. “You told me you hardly knew him.”
“I told you we had a dealing. I still hardly knew him.”
“Then what are you doing there?”
Getting accosted. “I don’t know Joe. It seemed like the right thing to do.” To my irritation, my tears started flowing again.
“Rose, are you alright?” His voice softened.
It made me cry even harder. “No.”
“Stay there. Let me come get you.”
I wanted to protest, to insist I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself, but I had been as brave as I could for the moment. I started to sob again.
“I’m coming. Don’t leave. Just wait for me there.” His words were rushed, like he was already running out the door.
I found a chair in the lobby and wept in fear as I faced the inevitability of my death. Sunday had seemed so far away, but it was right around the corner. Would it hurt when I was shot in the head? I’d been so worried about leaving life, I hadn’t given much thought to the dying part. I cried even harder, slumped over in the chair, my face on my knees making the hem of my dress wet with tears and snot.
I felt hands around my arms, pulling me up and I couldn’t stop the shriek. I jerked away, wild and desperate. Daniel Crocker had changed his mind and came back to get me.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Joe said, pulling me up. “You’re okay.”
I collapsed into his chest, sobbing.
“Come on, let me take you home.”
He led me out the front door. He put his arm around my back, supporting me. I got in the front seat of his car and barely remembered the drive home, just his hand pulling my head to his shoulder, his hand on mine.
When we parked in the driveway, he took my purse and dug out my keys then got out and opened the door. I’d gotten out of the car at that point, stumbling in the dark and the gravel. He came over and picked me up with little effort, carrying me through the door. He kicked it closed behind him and placed me on my bed.
He leaned over, stroking my head, then kissed my cheek. “I’m gonna take Muffy out. I’ll be right back.”
I cried harder. What would happen to Muffy? I still hadn’t made arrangements for her.
Before I realized Joe had been gone very long, he was there, lying on the bed with me, his stomach to my back. When I finally calmed down, he handed me tissues from my nightstand.
I rolled onto my back and looked up at him.
He rubbed my cheek, looking down into my face. “As flattered as I’d be if you were this upset over me not showing up at the restaurant, I suspect this is about something else.”
I bit my lower lip looking up into his kind eyes. Could I trust him? “Remember when you asked me if I was in trouble?”
A variety of emotions crossed his face before he answered. “Yeah, but you wouldn’t tell me.”
I paused, still unsure where to start. Maybe I could start with the DMV and leave out the vision. “The day before Momma died, a man came into the DMV. I’d never seen him before.” How did I explain the next part without giving away my freak show? “He thought I recognized him. I didn't feel well and I fainted.” All of that was true. I just left the vision part out. “He left, but without his paper work, which I thought was really weird. The next night Momma was killed.”
Joe watched my face intently, a little too intently to suit me. What did he hope to hear?
I paused to regroup. Maybe this wasn't a good idea, after all. But how did I get out of it without looking like I was hiding something?
“You said you had a dealing with Sloan Chapman. What kind of dealing did you have?”
“I went to Jaspers on my date with Steve. Only Steve didn't really want to be there. So I went to the restroom and when I came back, he’d left. He told the waitress he didn’t feel well, but he paid for my dinner and for my cab ride home.”
“Sounds like a real gentleman,” Joe muttered sarcastically.
“Well, I guessed he didn’t have to do it, pay for my dinner and the taxi. My brother-in-law forced him into the date. Anyway, I went into the bar and decided to order a glass of wine, since it was on my list. The bartender, Sloan, was really sweet to me and helped me figure out what to order, since I didn’t know anything about wine.”
I stopped again trying to read Joe’s expression. He looked guarded.
“While I waited for Sloan to bring my drink, the guy from the DMV showed up. He saw me in the restaurant and followed me into the bar. He said he was really good with faces but couldn’t place me. It happened after Momma’s funeral, after Aunt Bessie cut my hair, so I looked totally different. In fact, I still can’t believe he recognized me.”
Joe’s eyes softened and a tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Sure, your hair’s different and your clothes fit you better, but your face is still the same. You were pretty before you changed your hair, Rose.”
I blushed. I hadn’t realized he’d noticed me before I showed up on his front porch the night Momma died. “Well, he recognized my face, but couldn’t place me, and it really bothered him. He was friendly, a little too friendly, and Sloan told him I was his little sister and to get lost. Then Sloan called the taxi and I came home.”
“What happened the next time you saw Sloan?”
“Nothing, I never saw Sloan again.”
“What else?”
“What else, what?”
“That can’t be the end of your story. What else aren’t you telling me? What you told me isn’t enough to throw you into hysterical crying.”
I sat up, anger rising. “Why are you getting so irritated? I’m telling you what I know.”
“No, you’re not. You’re lying to me.” He sat up too, his eyes narrowing.
“There’s more to tell, but if you're going to be ugly to me, I’m not telling you anything.”
His face softened. He leaned his back against my headboard and pulled me into his arms, my cheek against his chest. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ll be quiet and listen.”
What did Joe McAllister have to gain from me? Why did he want to know my secrets so badly?
“Um…” My mind scrambled to come up with what to tell him. He knew there was more, I had to tell him something. Joe rubbed my back, making me torn between enjoying his touch and being suspicious. “The Monday I went back to work, he came back. The woman I work with said he’d been in every day the week before, looking for something or someone. But the day I came back, he came to my counter, with his paperwork. He told me he knew Sloan wasn’t my brother.”
“How did he know that?” Joe continued to rub my back.
“I don't know, he just said he did.” Should I tell him that he thought Sloan was a cop? I began to think that the less I told Joe, the better. I’d tell him just enough to make him think he knew everything. “That night was the night someone broke in, and of course the police didn’t believe me.”
I suddenly pictured Joe standing in my door in only his boxers and scratches and welts on his head and back.
The intruder had on black clothes and a stocking cap. I’d hit him in the back and head with the broom. What if Joe was the intruder and stripped off his clothes and came to my door, telling me he got hurt tackling the guy?
“Go on,” Joe said, rubbing my back again.
My heart began to race. “Ummm…” I didn’t know what else to tell him.
“Why did you go to the visitation tonight?”
“You didn’t show up and I thought about the night Steve left and how guys kept standing me up, and it made think about Sloan so I thought since I didn’t have anything else to do I’d go and pay my respects.” I was rambling and talking too fast. He would figure out he was making me nervous. I forced myself to slow down. “So I did.”
“What happened?”
“Excuse me?”
“What happened at the visitation?”
“Nothing,” I said, trying to sound innocent.
His arm tensed and he paused before he resumed rubbing my back. “Rose,” he cooed into my ear. “You can trust me.”
The way he said it made me almost think I could trust him. Almost.
“Nothing happened. It just made me think of Momma and I got really upset.”
Joe tilted my head back and looked into my eyes. His were guarded and searching as he stroked my cheek. “Are you sure? Are you sure that’s all?”
I closed my eyes, dismayed at the response my body had to his touch. His lips were on mine, soft and insistent, my resistance crumpling. I can’t trust him, I tried to tell it. I can’t tell him anything.
Muffy whined at the edge of the bed. I lifted my head up to check on her, but Joe pulled me back down, kissing me and making me forget.
“What was his name?” he asked, whispering in my ear.
I couldn't think, only feel, as he drove my body crazy.
Making me forget.
I sat up, bumping my head on his. I reached up to rub my head, while Joe looked confused.
Joe was always coaxing information out of me, using my body against me. My guts clenched. Joe didn't like me at all. He was just like Daniel Crocker. Only he used different tactics. And his were much worse.
I bolted to the bathroom, afraid I’d be sick. I locked the door behind me.
“Rose? What’s wrong?” Joe followed and called outside the door.
“I don’t feel well. I’ll be out in a minute,” I said, hanging over the toilet. The linen closet door caught my eye.
Joe called after the person tore apart my house, surprised I was home, expecting me to be at work. The person who came in didn't break the door to get in and might have had a key. Joe could have taken keys when he put the locks in. Why did he put the locks in?
Questions tumbled violently in my head, but they all pointed to the same thing. Joe was not only using me, he wanted something from me. I had to get him out of my house.
I opened the bathroom door.
“Are you okay?” he reached out to touch me and I tried not to recoil.
“It’s been a really rough night. I think maybe you should just go home.”
“I can stay with you.” He actually had the nerve to look hurt.
I made a face, unsure what to say. I didn't want to look too obvious.
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom. You think about it and you can tell me what you decide when I come out. Okay?”
I nodded and went into my bedroom looking for Muffy. She lay on the floor, looking sad.
“Were you trying to warn me?” I whispered to her. I leaned down and rubbed her head. “Good girl.”
I heard a rattle and jumped, my heart jolting. I didn’t know how many more surprises I could take tonight. Joe’s cell phone vibrated on my nightstand.
I tiptoed over, which was ridiculous, sneaking up on a cell phone. I picked it up, seeing a number on the screen with no name attached. What should I do? It was wrong to consider answering, yet I needed answers. I waited too long and the vibration stopped. My heart raced as I quelled my disappointment. It was better that I didn't answer. What would I have said? The phone vibrated again. Joe had a voicemail.
I listened for him, still in the bathroom. The toilet flushed and knew I had maybe thirty seconds at the most. I pressed the button to listen.
“Everything’s going as planned. We have confirmation she was seen with him. Let me know if you find out anything. Otherwise we stick to the schedule.”
The message was short and abrupt, but there was no mistaking the identity of the person leaving it.
Hilary.