Before She Dies (11 page)
“I don’t know. Yet.”
Chapter 7
Wednesday, October 20, 7:01 a.m.
Grady let the cigarette smoke trickle from his mouth and nose as he leaned back against the seat of his pickup truck. He stared across the street at the offices of Wellington and James, feeling a surge of resentment. His girl Grace had done right well for herself and made good on all the teenage proclamations he’d discounted. He’d always figured she’d grow tired of fighting, trade on her looks, and sell herself to a rich husband.
But she’d not sold herself to the highest bidder. No, his smart-mouthed girl had gotten herself a fancy education and built herself a fine business. “You got more grit than I imagined.”
When she and her sister had been little, he’d kept a close eye on them, knowing the young bucks in the carnival would have used them up good. He’d kept them away from those hounds because he’d considered them special. Turns out he’d failed both his girls.
Despite his failures, he’d kept tabs on Charlotte all these years. He might have let her leave, but he’d made it a point to know where she lived, whom she dated, and where she worked. He’d always figured she’d leave this area as soon as she could, but she never had. He reckoned that had more to do with Mariah and Sooner. Alexandria was the last place she’d seen both, and maybe deep in her gut, she figured if she stayed, she’d see them both again.
Grace always had been his sentimental one.
It didn’t take a genius to see the way her lips curled with disgust yesterday when she’d first laid eyes on him.
Well, she might have thought that she’d left the carnival behind, but she’d not. She was as much a part of the Family today as she was as a kid. No breaking that link.
He took another drag on the cigarette and savored the way the smoke burned his lungs and nose. This time when he exhaled, it triggered a coughing fit that overtook him for nearly a minute. When he finally got a hold of himself, he stared at the glowing tip, annoyed.
She might not want anything to do with him but that was just too damn bad.
Grady cupped the filtered tip between his lips and let the smoke rise around him. This time he avoided inhaling deeply as he checked his watch. “Come on, girl, I ain’t got all day.”
The carnival sales numbers had been brisk last night, and he’d been pleased to see they’d break even. Folks were anxious to see the carnival, knowing it would be its last season.
His lips curled. Last season. The ploy had boosted ticket sales in city after city and proved that there was one born every minute. And announcing to the press that Sooner could solve murders had been a stroke of genius. No matter what town they had visited, he’d found an unsolved crime and claimed Sooner could close the case. The local cops hadn’t appreciated it, but it had pulled in the customers.
Grady spotted the stock of auburn hair and immediately sat up a little straighter. He jammed the butt in the ashtray and got out of his car. He waited until the door to the law offices opened before he called out her name, “Grace.”
Her shoulders stiffened and tensed. It pleased him to know he could still rattle her cage. It was important that she remember her roots and who had been there for her when she was young.
Slowly, she turned. She wore all black and a string of pearls around her neck. In the last seventeen years she’d slimmed down, and he realized the words
fancy
or
uptown
did not do her justice.
fancy
or
uptown
did not do her justice.
“You remind me of your mama when I first met her. Full of fire and spunk, she never shied from a fight. Course, the years robbed her of that spunk.”
If he’d hit his mark, she showed no sign of it. “What do you want, Grady?”
“I came to talk to you.”
“We talked yesterday. Aunt Charlotte helped Sooner, and she won’t be going to jail. We have nothing more to discuss so get the hell off my property.”
God, but she could still piss him off faster than anyone. “We got a lot to talk about.”
She jammed her key in the lock and opened her front door. “Leave.”
“Or what, baby girl? You gonna call the police on your uncle Grady? Be a shame to do that, wouldn’t it? Then I’d have to tell them about all the money you stole from the till.”
Her lips flattened and she stilled.
He’d gotten her with that tidbit. “You think I’d forget how you stole that money from me before you ran away? When I saw that empty till, I was fit to be tied. I nearly chased you down.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“’Cause I had a carnival to run and Baby Sooner to raise.”
Her face paled with fury. “I left the carnival because Mariah was dead and you swore Sooner would have a real family.”
“I gave you a choice. Go without her. Stay with her. Nobody gets their cake and eats it, too.”
That barb triggered the wince he’d wanted. She stepped over her threshold and held the door open for him. “Come inside.”
He was about to make another crack when another woman walked into the reception area from the back. She was blond, tall, and well dressed. He wouldn’t call her stunning, but she was a fine-looking woman that he’d never have refused.
“Charlotte?” the woman said.
Grace straightened her shoulders. “Angie, this is Grady Tate. He had a few questions for me.” She kept her gaze away from him as she said, “Grady this is my associate, Angie Carlson.”
Grace’s words were refined and polite enough, but her rigid stance all but shouted,
Fuck Off.
And it also wasn’t lost on him that she’d not told Angie about their relationship. Uppity girl was ashamed of him.
Fuck Off.
And it also wasn’t lost on him that she’d not told Angie about their relationship. Uppity girl was ashamed of him.
“How you do, Ms. Angie.” He wiped his right hand on his jeans and then extended it to her.
To Angie’s credit, she accepted his hand, but the gesture did not lesson the wariness in her gaze. “And who are you, Mr. Tate?”
“Back in the day, I was married to her mama before she passed. God rest her soul.” He grinned. “Charlotte’s not one for remembering her roots, so I reckon she’s not mentioned me.”
Angie glanced to Grace, but said nothing. Grace made no move to deny or add to his comment, but he supposed if she’d had a gun right now, he’d have a bullet between his eyes. “No, she has not mentioned you.”
“Grady,” Grace said. “We don’t need to hold Angie up. Come back to my office, so we can talk in private.”
“Sure, baby girl. Sure.” He followed her down a hallway of plush carpet and fancy paintings. The deeper he went into her world, the more he felt out of his element. She was doing a fine job of making him feel second-rate. “So you’ve never told anyone about your past?”
“No.” She set her briefcase on her desk. “And I want to keep it that way.”
“You’re ashamed of your past.”
Her lips lowered into a thin smile. “Let’s just say, it wasn’t the best of beginnings.”
“It wasn’t all that bad. You never went hungry. I did well by you.”
“I guess in your mind you did.”
“You’re pissed because my place wasn’t fancy.”
“That’s not why I hated living with you and you know it. Now tell me what you want, or you can tell it to the police. I’m tired and irritated and quite happy to share a few dirty secrets with the cops.”
Grady grinned, holding up his hands in surrender. “No need to get nasty, baby girl. I just came by to thank you for helping Sooner.”
“You did that by text yesterday.”
“That kind of favor deserves a personal thank-you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Due diligence done. Now go.”
“Aren’t you curious at all about the girl? Seems to me after a night to rest on it, you’d have lots. You was always one for questions.”
She hesitated. “If I have questions, I’ll ask Sooner.”
“She looks like Mariah but she’s wired like you.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Just thought you’d like to know.”
“Really? Or maybe you see a chance to hurt me. As I remember, you liked hurting people when life wasn’t going your way.” Acid dripped from the words.
“You should be nice to me, baby girl.”
“Or what, Grady? You’ll go to the police about the money I stole. Try making that charge stick, old man.”
“I came with hat in hand, hoping things could be different between us.”
“Oh, it’s different all right. If it’s possible, I hate you more.”
His gaze narrowed. “You’re gonna be sorry you treated me so poorly today.”
“I’ll take my chances. Now get the hell out of my life.”
A bitter smile twisted his lips as he moved to the door. “Ain’t no getting rid of me, baby girl, until I say so.”
Samantha White sat in the visitor’s waiting area of the regional jail waiting for Charlotte Wellington. Like her, the other prisoners sat on benches mounted to three-by-five tables constructed of a thick worn plastic that was as gray and lifeless as the walls and tiled ceiling. The furnishings, like the women, looked haggard and worn down and the entire place had a sick-sweet smell that she would never forget.
At the table to her right sat a tall buxom woman with thinning black hair and rotting teeth. A meth addict accused of robbery, she leaned forward whispering to a guy who was just as thin as weary as she. At another table a heavyset black woman with corn rows and full cheeks spoke to a woman who wore her graying hair in a neat bun and lace around her collar. The older woman held a Bible in her hand as she listened to the inmate, shook her head, and whispered, “Help her, Jesus.” And at still another table sat a mother smiling anxiously at her teen children. The oldest of the children, a girl, kept her body stiff and rigid whereas her little brother’s body danced with excitement.
Samantha’s handcuffs clinked as she knitted her fingers together and dropped her gaze to the table. When she’d first been arrested, her mother had offered to bring the children to visit, but Samantha had refused. She didn’t want her children seeing her locked up.
“It wouldn’t be forever,” she’d told her mother. “And I don’t want the memory of their mother in handcuffs burned in their brain.”
“They miss you,” her mother had said.
“I miss them.”
“They miss their father.”
Samantha had dropped her head, pain and bitterness eating at her stomach. “It’s not their fault.”
“I should tell them what he did.”
“No. Not now.”
Samantha had not seen her children in thirteen months. She conjured the photo image of the girls she kept in her cell. How much had they changed? What moments had she missed that would be lost to her forever? Did they even think about her anymore?
A sadness rose up inside her as it had so many times since the night her husband died. Despite it all, she missed not only the girls but Stan as well. They’d had a good life, and she still couldn’t quite accept that he’d wanted to kill her and the girls. That last desperate moment they shared felt like a nightmare and not reality.
She raised her gaze toward the clock. Ms. Wellington was five minutes late. Worry burrowed deeper into her brain. Ms. Wellington had called the prison for an appointment yesterday, but had not been given a visitation time until today. Had the jury come back?
Since the trial had begun, she’d questioned every glance, every word that was spoken and unspoken. Did the jury believe her story? Did the judge appear angry with her? Did the guards know if the jury had returned with the verdict? The guessing was driving her insane.
A shift in the guard’s attention had her sitting straighter, and she watched as the matron beckoned someone forward. Samantha moistened her lips and tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear.
To her relief, Charlotte Wellington appeared, and when the guards buzzed her in, she walked into the room with such bearing everyone noticed. Ms. Wellington scanned the room only once before spotting Samantha.
She offered a smile that she hoped conveyed gratitude without hinting of arrogance. Stan had hated that kind of look. “Ms. Wellington.”
Ms. Wellington smiled. “How are you doing, Samantha?”
She wanted to rise, but the rules didn’t allow it. She nodded. “I’m doing well, Ms. Wellington.”
The attorney wore a dark tailored suit that hugged a slim figure and accentuated long legs. A bright blue silk top added a pop of color to skin that might have looked washed out if she’d chosen a less bold color. Auburn hair was swept up into a neat bun that showed off her high slash of cheekbones.
There’d been a time when Samantha had dressed well. Days spent shopping casually and recklessly were now a distant memory in a life that had died with her husband.
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