Battered Hearts 3: Crossing the line (21 page)

“I ain’t gonna say anything, Powers. I swear.” Jason’s voice was a low rasp of fear. “I ain’t never seen anything like that. Are you sure they ain’t dead?”

Clay cast a concerned look back at Vaughn and then wrapped his hand around Wyatt’s arm again. Wyatt followed him until they got to their bikes, but then he stopped and jerked his arm out of Clay’s grasp.

“This ain’t right, Clay. I’m supposed to stay and wait for my dad to show up. I did it. I should face the consequences.” Wyatt folded his arms over his chest stubbornly.

“No,” Clay growled at him as he got in his face again. “You’re gonna get on that fucking bike right now, and we’re gonna ride like the devil’s chasing our asses, ’cause I am
not
gonna end up in jail for those two assholes, and you’re not either.”

Wyatt shook his head. “You didn’t do anything.”

“The fuck I didn’t.” Clay let out a crazed laugh. “I could’ve stopped you a lot sooner than I did, and Wiltkins saw me just fucking standing there letting you do what you did. I’d be up as an accessory for sure, and don’t tell me you don’t know what that means, ’cause I know you do. Now shove your noble bullshit and get on the bike!”

Wyatt stared at him for one long second, contemplating what it would mean for Clay to get tied up in this mess. Then he leaned down and picked up his bike, willing to sacrifice his integrity for Clay rather than himself.

Turned out his best friend
did
know him.

Chapter Seventeen

“Damn drugs.” Tabitha’s mother cursed from her seat in the ER waiting room. “I knew dealing that shit would stick him here eventually. He’s lucky he ain’t dead.”

“Yeah,” Tabitha agreed softly.

“Hope they set his nose straight in this surgery. Fucking hospital. First thing they ask for is the insurance card. This is what I get for having a job and losing benefits. They’ll probably screw up on purpose, knowing we can’t pay for it.”

“I don’t think they’ll do that,” Tabitha argued. “The doctors seemed nice when they came out here. How bad does a nose have to be broke to need surgery?”

“Bad.” Her mother shook her head. “It looked like an elephant stomped on his face.”

Tabitha winced at the image. “Glad I missed it.”

“You should’ve seen Vaughn. He looked worse.” Her mother snorted. “He’ll be in here for a week, and you know Mary ain’t got a lick of insurance either.”

Tabitha couldn’t help the jolt of fear at the mention of Vaughn, and she also couldn’t help the rising suspicions that were building in the back of her mind. Finally she had to put voice to them and ask, “Do they know who did it?”

“No. And Brett ain’t talking. Can’t say that’s a bad thing. He starts pointing fingers, and he’s gonna have the sheriff on his ass when he figures out why they got their asses kicked. Better a broken nose than a criminal record. He’s already got that stain for breaking into the old Harver house.”

Tabitha nodded. “That’s true.”

“Oh, shit, speaking of.” Her mother turned to Tabitha, her brown eyes wide in panic. “You play it cool, missy. Don’t be saying nothing ’bout the drugs or—” She turned back around when Sheriff Conner got too close. “Howdy, Sheriff. You figure out what sorta criminal beat on my boy?”

“Nah, not yet.” The sheriff pointed to the empty seat next to Tabitha. “Mind if I sit?”

Tabitha’s mother made a sound in the back of her throat. “We’re sorta waiting to hear ’bout the surgery and—”

“I’ll keep you company.” The sheriff sat down without invitation and looked at Tabitha seriously. “Darlin’, you wouldn’t happen to know of anyone who had a vendetta against your brother, would you?”

Tabitha shook her head silently as she studied his face, seeing all the different features that were Wyatt’s. His nose, the shape of his eyes, his lips. There was so much of Wyatt there. Even if the sheriff’s hair was dark and his eyes were brown instead of blue, it was giving her a strange sort of whiplash.

“You sure?” he asked, studying her intently, the way Wyatt usually did when he was trying to figure out a riddle. “Violent crimes like this usually happen because someone’s got a reason to be
really
angry. This reeks of premeditation. Can you think of anyone who’d be mad at your brother or Vaughn Davis and plot to hurt them?”

Tabitha shook her head again.

“You sure?” he pressed again. “No one at school?”

Tabitha swallowed hard, thinking of one person, but she’d never say it out loud. “No, sir.”

“Has your brother been doing some things that could make someone upset? Like something to do with drugs? Or does he owe someone money? Gambling, maybe?”

“I think we’re done talking,” her mother cut in.

“I’m trying to help you,” the sheriff barked in obvious frustration. “I ain’t got no witnesses save one kid who showed up after it happened. Unless you can give me some leads or you can get Brett to start talking ’bout what happened, your boy’s in danger of getting hurt again. How do you know they weren’t trying to kill him? And how do you know they ain’t gonna try again? A little trouble with drugs is a lot better than being six feet under.”

“My boy doesn’t do drugs,” she said quickly. “He don’t sell them neither.”

“Well, he did something to make someone angry enough to break his nose.” The sheriff threw up his hands. “And Vaughn Davis has got four broken ribs and a nose that’s in worse shape than your son’s is, but neither of them seem to remember who did all that. I find that pretty hard to believe, Mrs. McMillen.”

“We don’t know anything. He’s got a concussion, in case you didn’t know. It made his memory foggy.” Tabitha’s mother shrugged. “But if Brett gets any ideas, I’ll be sure to call you up.”

“Concussions rarely cause memory loss.”

“Rarely don’t mean never, does it?”

“No, I guess it doesn’t.” The sheriff looked to Tabitha once more. “Are you okay?”

Tabitha nodded again. “Yes, sir.”

“What happened to your head?”

Tabitha cupped a hand to her head self-consciously to cover the green-tinged bruising the bandage didn’t hide. “I tripped.”

“On what?”

“The carpet.” Tabitha lowered her gaze, because looking at a face so much like Wyatt’s made it hard to lie. “I hit my head on the coffee table.”

“Really?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yes, sir.”

“When’d that happen?”

“A few days ago.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

Tabitha nodded again, making sure to keep her eyes lower as she mumbled, “Yes, sir.”

“What?” Her mother leaned forward, giving Tabitha a look of shock. “I didn’t know that. Who?”

“Terry Dower. He rides on the bus with me.” Tabitha turned to her mother and said, “He’s nice. I like him.”

“Wow.” Her mother raised her eyebrows, obviously impressed. “Hang on to that one. His mama’s rich.”

“Yeah, that ain’t it. No way that boy caused this much damage,” the sheriff grumbled. “I’m looking for someone a lot bigger than Terry Dower. Okay, I guess if y’all don’t got anything else to say to me—”

“We don’t,” her mother assured him.

“Then I’m gonna go talk to Connie Davis and see what she knows.”

Tabitha looked up at the sheriff, wishing she could tell him to stop nosing into a crime that might unearth something he really didn’t want to know about.

* * * *

“Hey, Clay, you’re friends with Tabitha McMillen, ain’t ya?”

Clay glanced up from his food and looked across the breakfast table. “Yeah. Why?”

Wyatt watched his father take a sip of coffee out of his sheriff’s mug. He sat next to Jules, wearing jeans and a T-shirt since it was his day off. He ran a hand through his hair and said, “Her brother got beat up pretty bad yesterday. He’s still in the hospital. Vaughn Davis too.”

“Her brother’s an asshole,” Clay said quickly, covering up Jules’s choked sound of shock. “I ain’t surprised someone wanted to beat on him a little.”

Wyatt met Jules’s eyes, seeing they were wide and stunned. Her entire body was stiff. He knew without asking she had just figured out everything. She’d been hounding him since last night, sensing instantly something was off as he fought to hide a concussion that hurt like hell and a cut on the back of his head that Clay pushed ice into for two hours to stop the bleeding.

“It was nasty. Those boys are lucky they ain’t dead,” Wyatt’s father went on. “You got any ideas who it could be?”

Clay rubbed at the back of his neck as he considered him. “Well, I ain’t got any proof, but I’m pretty sure he does drugs. That’s probably it.”

His father sighed. “Yeah, I’ve been suspecting that myself. I mean, come on, that Davis boy shows up with a car when he’s sixteen, and everyone knows his mama ain’t got a pot to piss in. I know he’s dealing. Not like he’s working somewhere for the money. They think I’m stupid.” He turned to Jules, frowning. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Jules squeaked and looked back at her plate, her eyes still wide in horror.

“You ain’t eating.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Are you having problems?” their father asked in concern as he leaned down and studied Jules. “Do you need to go back to those doctors again? I know it’s uncomfortable, but you got to tell me ’bout these type of things.”

“It’s not girl problems.” Jules cheeks colored as she glared at Wyatt. “I just lost my appetite.”

“I dunno, missy,” he said skeptically. “I may take you up to Mercy with me today. I got to go back up there and check on those boys, see if I can get one of their family members to talk since they surely aren’t gonna help me out. Your friend Tabitha wasn’t all that helpful, Clay.”

Clay shrugged. “She’s shy.”

“I noticed.” Their father stood and walked to the counter. He poured himself another cup of coffee. “You know, she said she was dating one of the Dower boys. Terry, I think. Can you imagine? His mama is gonna flip her lid over that. That woman is so stuck up.”

“Yeah, she is,” Clay agreed. “Mrs. Dower hates my ass; that’s for sure.”

“Well, you don’t listen to folks like that.” Their father walked around the table with a fresh cup of coffee in his hand. He patted Clay’s shoulder affectionately. “You’re a good guy. We all know it.” Then he reached over and knocked Wyatt’s baseball cap off. “Too bad this son of mine keeps setting a bad example. Are we wearing hats at the table now?”

“We were.” Wyatt grunted and leaned down to pick up the hat to hide the wide-eyed look of pain that had to be showing on his face. The movement made his head hurt worse, and he couldn’t help but groan, “Holy shit.”

“What’s your problem?”

“Probably feeling Jules’s girl problems.” It was the best Wyatt could come up with considering the headache he had. “Sick vibe.”

Their father laughed. “Then we’re definitely taking her up to Mercy if she’s giving you menstrual cramps secondhand. That ain’t something you want the fellas on the football team to find out about.”

“I ain’t that sick,” Jules argued. “Do you have to go into work? It’s your day off. I was hoping you could take me shopping.”

“Sweetheart, I got to figure out this case and—”

“Please. You’re always working, and I miss you, and I’m stuck with Wyatt all the dang time and—” Jules let out a sob of misery.

“Okay, fine. We’ll go shopping. I suppose the county owes me a real day off.”

Jules smiled triumphantly, recovering from her bout of melancholy remarkably fast. “Well, okay, it’s a Ju Ju day.”

“Yeah, we’ll make it a Ju Ju day.” A smile sounded in his voice before he hit the back of Wyatt’s head again. “We’ll make it a Wy Wy day next week.”

“Great,” Wyatt choked, resisting the urge to reach up and cup his head protectively.

“What kinda trouble are y’all getting into today?”

“Probably just hanging round the rec center,” Wyatt mumbled, still reeling from the pounding in his skull that was so intense it churned his stomach.

“You can come shopping with us,” his father offered. “You could use a few more pairs of jeans. Clay, you too. Y’all grow out of your clothes faster than I can buy them.”

“Pass,” Wyatt said quickly. “I’d rather let Clay beat on me at the rec center.”

“I noticed you got another shiner this morning. Why do you two insist on—”

“He’s trying to make varsity wrestling,” Wyatt said before his father could finish with the lecture.

“I guess.” He shook his head and turned to leave the kitchen. “Get dressed, Jules; then we’ll leave. I just got to call the office real quick.”

Once he walked out of the room, Jules just looked at Clay and Wyatt across the table. Her eyes were narrowed suspiciously before she asked in a low whisper, “I knew there was something wrong with you. How bad’s your head?”

“Really fucking bad.” Wyatt finally cupped it protectively and leaned down to press his forehead against the table.” Oh my God, I’m gonna puke.”

“What happened to it?”

“I hit it on a rock.”

“Was Vaughn holding that rock when it landed against that hard head of yours?”

“No, Clay was tackling me when it connected with my hard head.”

“To stop you from killing Vaughn Davis,” Jules surmised instantly. “You did it, didn’t you?”

Clay kicked Wyatt under the table, as if it made a difference at this point in the game. Jules had been hounding him endlessly since last night. There just was no way to keep this level of injury or stress from her.

Wyatt swallowed hard, his face still against the table as he admitted, “Yeah, I did it.”

“Wyatt,” Clay growled in disbelief and then kicked him under the table once more for good measure.

“You might as well forget it. It’s a twin thing. You wouldn’t understand. But she would’ve found out,” Wyatt whispered in defeat.

“Unbelievable,” Jules said in a voice that quivered on the verge of panic. “I officially don’t like this girl, Wy Wy. She makes you stupid.”

“That ain’t her fault,” Wyatt whispered because he couldn’t deny the obvious.

“Does anyone know?”

“No,” Clay said uncertainly next to him.

“No one?” Jules questioned harshly. “Don’t lie to me, Clay.”

“No,” Clay lied again, because they both knew Jason Wiltkins saw the whole thing. “It was just the two of us.”