Final Justice (42 page)

"And that's why Burch has to pay for what he did," she ended with a rush of anger.

"How will you do that?"

Sara stared at the dryer, the clothes tossed and tumbled by the drum as recklessly as the emotions surging within her. "Luke has a plan. He hasn't told me what it is, but I've got to get busy setting Burch up for it."

The dryer clicked off, and she raced towards it and began stuffing her clothes in her basket.

"Hey, everything will be wrinkled," Emma Jean protested.

"It doesn't matter. I've got to hurry home and get ready for prayer meeting tonight. I've got to wash and roll my hair and get a bath and fix my face and try to look really nice." She was talking more to herself than Emma Jean as she planned how to look enticing for Burch without being obvious.

Emma Jean elbowed her away from the dryer. "Here. Stop it. I'll fold these and leave them on your porch on my way home from work. You go ahead."

Sara stared in grateful surprise. "You'll do that?"

"Of course, I will. Thanks to Irene Cleghorn, I've got a delivery service going." She began to mimic her again. "Now you just run along, my dear, I've got to get busy making little finger sandwiches for my bridge club."

Laughing, they walked outside together, pausing to look across the street where Betsy Borden was rummaging in a garbage can.

"That poor woman," Sara said. "She ought to be put away somewhere."

Emma Jean agreed. "She's a weird one, all right. Rudy's had to run her off a couple of times when she was trying to sleep in the roost house." She couldn't help but giggle as she added, "When he asked her why she didn't go sleep in her own, she said she liked to visit different chickens in the neighborhood."

"Sad," Sara murmured. "So very, very sad."

* * *

Sara felt Burch's eyes on her all during worship service. He was sitting directly behind her, and she didn't think that was by accident. There were a lot of empty pews. He was alone, too, because Irene was playing the piano.

Sara had purposely chosen a spot away from everyone else, and Burch had played right into her hands. The service ended, everyone rose, and she turned automatically, as though to greet whoever was nearby. Feigning surprise, she knew she had missed her calling as an actress, for she was able to paste on a smile and exclaim, "Oh, Mr. Cleghorn—Burch—I didn't know you were there. Good evening to you."

She stepped into the aisle, but he moved quickly to get in front of her, lips spread in his best
deacon-greeter
grin. But it was not his usual patronizing routine. Instead, with voice lowered against anyone possibly overhearing, he said in a rush, "You aren't still mad at me, are you, Sara? I mean, it was an accident. You know that. He was old. It wasn't my fault. And I had to get out of there. I couldn't afford to get involved. I'm just glad you managed to get away, too. I should've taken you with me, doggone it, but I'm ashamed to say I was just too damn scared at the time to think straight."

Sara marveled over how she was able to appear so composed when she was itching to rake her nails down his lying face. "Well, it was a bad situation. I hope you aren't going to say anything about me and Dewey. I mean, it's over. There's no need to hurt anybody."

He made his eyes go wide, as though stunned she could even suggest such a thing. "Why, Sara. Don't you know that's the last thing I want?"

He put a big, beefy hand on her shoulder, and she gritted her teeth against the impulse to fling it off. She made herself stand there as he leaned into her face and said, "But you must be lonely, and I can take care of that if you'll let me. I'll make it worth your while financially, too, just like Dewey did. You keep me happy, and I'll keep you happy, understand?"

"I... I'll think about it." Her jaws were aching from having to keep her phony smile in place. "I guess we'd better be going. People will wonder what we're talking about."

"No one ever wonders about a deacon talking to a church member. Now when can we get together?"

"I... I'm not sure," she stammered nervously. "I have to think about it."

As though sent by her guardian angel, she saw Irene coming towards them.

"Don't take too long," Burch snapped, stepping away from her and changing his tone to continue loudly, "Well, it's great to see you here tonight, Sara. I hope you'll be back Sunday."

He put his arm around Irene as she joined them.

Beaming at Sara, Irene proudly exclaimed, "It was my little talk with you today at the laundromat that brought you out tonight, wasn't it, dear? Well, I'm glad you took it to heart." She patted her arm. "I'll expect to see you at circle meeting next month, too."

Irene told Burch they had to go, and Sara doggedly followed after them but kept her distance.

Whatever Luke had in mind, she hoped he moved fast because she didn't know how long she could keep up the charade.

* * *

Burch wasted no time in calling the next morning. "So when can we meet?"

Sara gritted her teeth. "I want more than a little fling, Burch. Dewey and me were together a long time." God, she hated talking to him about Dewey. It was a sacrilege.

"Dewey was just a farmer," he coldly reminded, "and now you figure you've got a chance to latch onto a rich lawyer for your new sugar daddy. Well, I need to see how good you are first."

She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. "I want it to be special. Not just a quickie in the back seat."

"How about meeting me at a motel in Birmingham?"

"That's not special enough."

He bit out each word like he was chewing up the side of a pork rib.
"Then what do you want?"

She had talked to Luke late the night before, and he had told her what to say. "Will you meet me anywhere I want? Do anything I want?" She made her voice husky. "I like to do kinky things, Burch. I'm very playful."

His whispered "Oh, my god," was barely audible, but she heard and stifled a gag.

"You name it. Oh, babe, if you're as good as you're trying to make me think you are, we're going to be together a long, long time. And I'll treat you real good. You'll see."

Luke had also instructed her to string him along, and now the time had come for the showdown. "Call me this afternoon. I'll let you know then."

"Why can't we make a date now?"

"I need to make some arrangements."
Luke
had to make arrangements.

"Okay. But I warn you, make a definite date or that's it. I'll start the gossip rolling and, within a week, Dewey's widow will be spitting on his grave, and Tim will wring your neck for the two-timing whore you are."

She hung up, then dialed the sheriff's office, praying Luke would be there. He was, and she rushed to tell him Burch was playing right into her hands.

"Great. Meet me at the post office in half an hour. It'll look like we just happened to run into each other. I'll give you all the details then."

* * *

Forty minutes later Luke told Sara his plan, and she was so astonished she had to steady herself by leaning against the hood of his car. "Are you serious? You really want me to make a date to meet him in the
church?
Luke, I know he's meaner than a rattlesnake, but he
is
a deacon, and surely he'd balk at doing it in the church."

"Don't be so naive. He'd do it on the altar if he had to and not bat an eye. Now when does Tim go on the three to eleven shift again?"

"Monday."

"Perfect. When is Burch supposed to call again?"

"This afternoon."

"Good. Tell him to meet you at the church Monday night at seven. Tell him to walk, so his car won't be in the parking lot. If he asks how you plan to get in when the doors are locked, tell him you have a key because you do some volunteer work in the office once in a while. He won't question that. He's probably got one, too. And don't worry. You won't have to go all the way with him, but you may have to go pretty far."

"Why can't you just take him out in the woods and beat the hell out of him and tell him if he says one word about me you'll kill him next time? Why do I have to be involved at all?" She shuddered. "God, Luke, when I think about him putting his hands on me, I want to throw up."

"Trust me. If my plan works, and I believe it will, his life will be hell forevermore, but it's best you don't know the details till Monday night. I don't want you stewing about it."

"I'll be stewing enough thinking about having to let that creep paw me."

"Just keep telling yourself it's revenge for Dewey."

"I'll try," she said miserably. "Dear Lord, I'll try."

* * *

Yielding to the urge to see Emma Jean, Luke circled the laundromat several times waiting for Irene Cleghorn to leave. Emma Jean saw him through the window but couldn't hurry Irene.

"No way would I give up," he assured as they stepped into the back room for a quick kiss. "But why was she here so long? Don't tell me she was actually doing her own laundry."

"Oh, no chance of that. Her maid didn't show up again, and she's all to pieces worrying her good linens won't be ready for her bridge party this evening."

Emma Jean went into her routine of mimicking Irene, then fell silent to see how Luke was staring. "What's wrong? You don't think I'm being mean to make fun of her, do you?"

"No, it's okay. Do some more."

"More?"

"Yes. Talk like her some more. Say, 'I'm having a surprise party for Ramona Hampton'."

"Why? That's silly."

"Just do it. Please."

She did, and Luke laughed out loud and slammed a fist into his open palm. "Perfect. Just perfect. I didn't know till this minute how I was going to pull it off, but you just solved everything... if you'll do it."

"Anything," she said without hesitancy. Lord, there was nothing she wouldn't do for him.

He explained in detail what he wanted.

She looked doubtful. "I don't know. It doesn't make sense, calling all those people and making them think I'm Irene. What happens when she isn't at the party? Won't folks wonder? And what about when she hears somebody pretended to be her?"

He put his hands on her shoulders. "You let me do all the worrying, okay? You just make the calls. You can start this afternoon. Have you got enough dimes for the pay phone?"

"Sure. The dryers take dimes. I always make sure I've got plenty for folks who need change."

He pressed his lips against her forehead. "You saved the day, honey."

Basking in his praise, she said without thinking, "Well, I'm surprised Sara didn't tell you how I could do Irene, especially since that's the time I messed up and let her know you told me about her and Dewey. I didn't mean to, mind you, but I was poking fun at Irene and said something about how I felt sorry for her husband, and Sara looked hurt. Then I remembered what you told me, and I apologized and said too much and she figured out I knew everything."

"You mean you told Sara that I confided that to you? Then she must have wondered why..."

"She did," Emma Jean said without guile. "And I just went ahead and told her, 'cause I knew she'd guessed it, and she said she had, but we don't need to worry. She's such a good friend to you, Luke."

"I know that." Then, because of the seriousness of their situation, he felt compelled to prod, "You haven't told anyone else about us, have you?"

"Of course not. You and Sara are the only friends I've got in this town. And I don't see any harm in her knowing. She won't tell. And who knows? We might need her some time as a go-between. You know it's awful hard sometimes for us to get word to each other when we need to."

"I guess you're right." He put his arms around her, and she winced and drew back. "Has he hurt you again?" he asked sharply.

She tried to pass it off. "Oh, you know Rudy. He gets a little bullish sometimes and shoves me harder than he realizes. It's nothing. Now get along with you. I need to catch up on everything so I can start making those phone calls."

"I wish it didn't have to be this way. When I think of him hurting you..."

"Oh, it's not so bad," she lied, wriggling in his grasp. "Now let me go before somebody comes in."

He released her and swore, "That damn redneck is going to hurt you bad one day, and then I'll kill him."

Flustered, because he was standing so close, and she wanted so badly to throw herself in his arms, she feigned annoyance to hide what she was actually feeling. "Well, what would you have me do, Luke? Hit him back?"

"Leave him. I've told you that before."

"If I left him, I'd be leaving you, and I don't want to do that."

Luke, also waging an inner war of his own, lashed out, "You can't plan your life around me, Emma Jean. You knew how it was when we started this thing. We can't let it get away from us, so you better think of yourself and what kind of life you're going to have if you stay married to Rudy."

She was on the verge of tears. "If you're around to be my friend, I can stand it."

"Well, maybe I won't always be around."

"Then I guess I'll have to manage somehow, won't I?"