Guns and Roses (45 page)

He went to a different file and looked up Lulu Tidwell’s home phone number. Lulu’d been the contrary face of the Lockerby Post Office for over fifty years and retired the last three.

After several rings, a grumpy old woman answered, “It better be important or I’m gonna shoot ya.”

“Evening Miss Lulu, this is Detective Cantrell. I’m sorry to bother you so late—”

“Detective who?”

“Cantrell, Lockerby Police?”

“Oh, are you that tall, dark one?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Whatcha want?”

“I’m sure you remember the Katie Burkhart case five years ago?”

“Course I do, everyone’s still talkin’ about it.”

“The box of evidence that you shipped to Raleigh—”

“I told Chief Buckly, I personally sent that box on its way, whatever happened to it happened
after
I sent it.”

“I’m sure that’s true, ma’am. What I wanted to know is if you recall who it was that brought the box in to be mailed. That would have been someone from the police department.”

“Of course I remember, it was that odd boy, the one with half an oar in the water. Sorrel something or other.”

Cash’s heart thumped in his chest.

“My second cousin Eda Jean’s neighbor, Margaret Ann, says that boy might pay his rent on time, but that’s about all he’s good for, ‘cept fixing things ’round the house.”

“Do you know where Miss Margaret Ann lives, Miss Lulu?”

“She’s over on the corner of Sweet Pea and Lily.”

He lived at the other end of Lily.

“Thank you, Miss Lulu.”

Cash hung up and immediately called his house phone. The line was busy. Damn it! Who was Rebel talking to? He hung up, grabbed his radio and clicked it. “Office Whittier, this is Detective Cantrell, what’s your twenty?”

Earl Whittier was the midnight shift officer on patrol and if he followed routine he was sleeping over at Gilman somewhere.

“Hey, Cash,” Earl’s chipper voice came over the radio. “I’m over at the Piggly Wiggly taking a statement on a car crash.”

“I need you to drop what you’re doing and meet me at the university campus security office.”

“Ten four.”

Five minutes later, Cash strode into the office and stopped short. There on the front desk was a vase of red roses. The entire office smelled like roses. “Mags?” Cash called.

“I’ll be right out?” she called back.

A minute later, a fireplug of a woman, Mags Potter, rolled out of the restroom. Cash pointed to the flowers. “Would those be Mr. Lincolns?”

“Why, yes, suh they sure are.”

“Where’d you get them?”

“Sorrel brought them in last week. They sure are stayin’ fresh an’ sweet smellin’.”

“Would you radio Sorrel in, please?”

“I cain’t, he called in sick ‘bout twenty minutes ago.”

“Shit!”

“Thank you, Miss Liddy,” Rebel said, hanging up Cash’s phone. One good thing about small towns was everybody knew everybody and where they lived. And Sorrel Nelson was renting a room just down the street and around the corner. Rebel grabbed the gun from Cash’s dresser drawer, then slipped out of the house into the garage and smiled. Just what she was hoping for—a bicycle. She could get over there quick and quiet, take a look around while Sorrel was at work and be back before Cash knew she was gone.

Sliding the gun in between the small of her back and her jeans, Rebel hopped on the bike and peddled herself down the street to the three-story brick house. She stopped at the house next door, set her bike up against the fence and carefully moved down the line of robust rose bushes. She’d seen them many times, always admiring the owner’s flair for growing such beauties. Gran would be pea green with envy. As Rebel moved further along the property line to the back of the property, she caught the distinct scent of Mr. Lincolns and even more distinct, the eerie sound of a shovel hitting moist earth. Who would be digging at midnight other than a murderer with something to hide?

Her heart thudded like a runaway train in her chest. The sound was coming from behind the woodshed in Miss Margaret Ann’s backyard. Rebel moved closer to the sound and heard a man’s voice.

“She thinks she’s so dang smart.”

The hair on Rebel’s arms stood straight up. It was Sorrel. Why wasn’t he at work? She moved around to get a better look to make sure it was him and gasped at the sight. He’d dug what could only be described as a grave. And beside him was Cash’s evidence bag.

He stopped digging as the breeze picked up. She was upwind of him. She froze as he slowly turned and faced her. “You smell sweeter than any Mr. Lincoln, Rebel,” he slowly said. He was sweaty and dirty in his uniform, and with his shirt open and his chest exposed, she saw deep scratches.

“Did Jami do that?” she asked, pointing to his chest.

He nodded, the shovel still in his hand. He was about ten feet from her, and Rebel figured if she had to pull the gun and fire, she’d have enough time.

“For such a little thing, she sure put up a fight.”

“Did Katie put up a fight too?”

“Yessum. They both did.”

“Why’d you do it, Sorrel?”

“Doncha’ mean Sorry? I know what all y’all call me behind my back.” He laughed. “But who’s
sorry
now, Rebel?”

Rebel’s knees knocked a little. She was terrified, she wasn’t gonna lie to herself about that. But she wasn’t all jelly, either. She had a gun and knew how to use it. “It wasn’t right, Sorrel, making fun of you like that behind your back. And for my part in propagating it, I’m sorry.”

“I ain’t so dumb now, am I?”

“Murdering two girls isn’t so smart, Sorrel.”

“Shut up,” he hissed and pointed to the grave. “That’s for you.”

Rebel shook a little more. “Why’d you kill Katie and Jami?”

“Those girls were so stupid! Datin’ those Kappas like they was somethin’ better than the rest of us. They weren’t in the end when they got dumped by ‘em,” Sorrel scoffed. “Those stupid cows couldn’t see those Kappas was just milkin’ ‘em.” His gaze drilled into Rebel. “Me? I woulda given ‘em both the world.”

“You always acted the gentleman, Sorrel. I’m sure you would have.”

“All I had to do was bide my time. I saw how Halstead was usin’ Katie. She was helpin’ him cheat on his finals. If it hadn’t been for her, he woulda flunked outta college. He dumped her the day he got his passin’ scores. She was heartbroken over that bastard. I went out an’ bought her a gold heart, took her a rose, too. I promised to take care of her an’ she laughed at me. She wasn’t laughin’ anymore. Not when I got done with her.”

“But Jami and Drew—”

“She was pregnant! Pregnant with his baby. When she told him, he freaked out an’ begged her to get an abortion. She told ‘im she was going to sue ’im for child support an’ ruin his life if he din’t marry her. I thought he was going to kill her when she told ‘im that. But damn if that boy din’t just walk away like she was invisible. After I stole back the heart pendent I gave to Katie from her mama, I snuck it into Jami’s locker. Then I took her a rose, an’ told her I’d take care of her
an’
the baby, but she laughed at me like Katie did.”

“Poor, Jami,” Rebel sobbed.

“She deserved it! She was white trash, anyway.” Sorrel stepped closer to Rebel. “I left you the heart pendant an’ a rose. Did you like ‘em?”

“You scared me to death, Sorrel Nelson! Climbing on my roof like that. What were you thinking?”

“I knew if I just showed up at your door a gentleman proper, you’d laugh at me like the others.”

Rebel felt bad about that. “You’re right, Sorrel, and I’m ashamed to think I’m that kind of person. But all of that aside, you just can’t go ‘round killing girls for laughing at you.”

“Put the shovel down, Sorrel,” Cash said from behind her.

Rebel’s belly flipped flopped as she felt Cash’s big body come closer. She hadn’t realized how terrified she was until she felt his presence. She turned to thank him when Sorrel threw the shovel at her, hitting her in the chest. He turned and ran.

Cash ran past her. Rebel caught her breath, more in shock than in pain, and then took off after them both. When she came around the corner of the house, Cash had Sorrel face-first in a pile of manure Miss Margaret Ann used on her rose beds.

Cash handcuffed him and yanked him up by his Elvis hair. “You apologize to Miss Rebel for throwing that shovel at her.”

Rebel rubbed her chest just below her shoulder where the flat part of the spade hit her.

“I’m sorry, Miss Rebel,” he said, staring at the ground.

“You’re the one who’s gonna be sorry, Sorrel Nelson, when you get to prison.”

When Officer Whittier arrived on scene, Cash handed Sorrel over to him with instructions to take him to the courthouse jail. As the two left, Cash turned to Rebel and harshly said, “Damn it, woman, you gave me your word you wouldn’t leave my house!”

She smiled coyly and said, “I am embarrassed to admit, I lied to you.”

Cash’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Do you know what I do to liars?”

A thrilling shiver ran through her.

“No, suh,” she said, stepping into his personal space. “And I really don’t give a care.” She stood up on her tip toes and slid her hand around his neck. His body was tense, his muscles hard, but he didn’t push her away. She brushed her lips across his surprisingly soft ones and whispered, “Thank you for saving my life twice tonight.” Then kissed him full on.

His arm slipped around her waist, drawing her closer as his lips opened to her probing tongue. It was like fire meeting fire, the intensity of it taking her breath away. She wanted it to go on forever.

 But Cash ended it all too quick. He pressed his forehead to hers, holding her close.

“There’s a part of me that wants to do this, Rebel. All of it, not just part.” He squeezed his eyes closed for a long minute then opened them. “But I can’t because I’ll want to stay. And I have to go.”

Rebel looked up into his deep green eyes. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“What I want and what I need are two different things.”

She smiled despite feeling like she’d been mule kicked in the belly and stepped back until his arms no longer held her. “Well, then, Detective Cantrell, I guess this is good bye.” She turned and walked slowly, but with purpose, away from him, hoping, waiting, wanting for him to call her name. But he never did.

~*~

Five days later, Cash stood behind his empty desk. He’d put the last four years of his life in a box. It had been the longest five days of his life. Because not once in those five days did he see or hear Rebel Yell Culpeper. In those five days, he had put all of the murder puzzle pieces together. After Sorrel Nelson gave a written confession for both murders, he’d been transported to the county jail. The evidence from the first case had been recovered in Sorrel’s room, as well as Cash’s evidence bag he was about to bury.

Cash was being hailed town hero. So why did he feel empty inside?

He’d headed toward Rebel’s house more times than he could count this week, but each time he stopped before he turned down her street. She wasn’t part of his plan.

He had his life mapped out. He was going forward with his next step. It’s what he’d worked so hard for. And in the south, a man like him and a girl like her would have big troubles. He wasn’t going to do that to her, and if he was honest with himself, even if their age difference and racial barrier weren’t enough to keep them apart, he just knew that southern belle, no matter how good her intentions, would find a way to mess his career as a Special Agent up.

“Excuse me, Detective Cantrell,” a voice he never thought he’d hear again said from his doorway. Cash’s heart slammed against his chest. He smiled slowly as he took her all in. She was a looker. That thick, cinnamon-colored hair of hers was wildly hanging around her heart-shaped face. Those big, dark brown eyes, framed with the longest lashes he’d ever seen on a girl, glowed mischievously at him. When she smiled at him like she was right now, it warmed him from the inside out.

Clearing his throat, Cash said, “Yes, ma’am, how can I help you?”

“They have an academy at the State Bureau of Investigation where you’re going?”

“Yes, ma’am, they do.”

“You think someone like me could get in there?”

Cash smiled as he came around his desk. “I don’t know that they could stop you, Rebel.”

She smiled back and nodded. “I guess then I’ll be seeing you around, Detective Cantrell.”

And that was the last Cash Cantrell saw of Rebel Yell Culpepper. That is, until almost two years later when she would show up at the SBI Academy.

But that’s a whole ‘nuther story…

*****

KARIN TABKE

Married to her own retired hot cop,  nationally bestselling and award winning author, Karin draws on a lifetime of stories and backdrops that few outside of the law enforcement community ever see, let alone hear about.  Passion and intrigue reigns supreme through the pages she writes where hot heroes serve, protect, and pleasure from page one to The End. Karin also writes paranormal romantic suspense as
Karin Harlow
. Visit her at
www.karintabke.com
.