Half Past Dead (9 page)

“Ever try it?”

“Never,” she replied emphatically. “I've never touched any drugs. Actually, there weren't many around when I was in school. A little marijuana, but that's it.”

“Times have changed. Meth is now the numero uno drug in rural America because it's a no-brainer to produce.”

“I know,” she snapped back. “Mix cold tablets, drain cleaner, and a few other things together, then heat it up on top of a stove.”

“Most outfits are mom-and-pop operations, making a modern-day version of moonshine but much more deadly.”

“Vats doesn't seem like a small-time operation to me.”

Not only was Kat sexy, she was sharp, far sharper than he'd expected. She kept surprising him. He liked a challenging woman. Most were transparent, exactly what they seemed—but not Kat. He couldn't help staring at her lips, spellbound by their seductive movements as she spoke. Her voice was soft, but sensuously rough, like the rasp of a cat's tongue.

“You're right. This sounds like a bigger operation. Meth can be smoked, snorted or injected, but I'm betting they're reducing it to crystal meth—poor man's cocaine. A powder is lighter, easier to transport.”

Redd wriggled out from under the desk. Justin watched the dog slink around the side and peer cautiously at Kat.

She lowered her thick dark lashes and studied the dog. “Hello. What's your name?”

“Redd with two
d
s.”

She reached out her hand. “Here, Redd. Here, boy.”

The dog gingerly stepped forward, but not close enough for her to pet him. Still, Justin was surprised. Redd hadn't shown any interest in other people who'd come into his office.

“Redd, what happened to your fur?”

“It was so matted and full of thorns that it had to be shaved. The family who owned him left Redd in the woods to fend for himself when they moved. He was slowly starving to death.”

Her eyes had been on the dog, but now she looked up at him. Respect stole into her expression. For reasons he couldn't articulate, he wanted her to see him as something more than the law. She flashed him a smile that could light up hell.

“Here, boy.” She reached out to Redd. “I won't hurt you.”

The dog inched forward, and she let him sniff her extended hand. Apparently he liked what he smelled. Justin had already caught a trace of a floral scent when she'd first walked in. Redd edged close enough for her to touch him. She stroked his head and fondled his ears.

“What a good boy you are.”

Justin imagined those hands on his body and heat pooled in his groin. Don't go there, he told himself. Don't get involved with a woman who's going back to jail. But his body had other ideas. The iron heat of his sex pressed against the fly of his khakis. Holy shit! How could she get to him so easily?

He was horny—plain and simple. He hadn't had sex in—what?—a month or so. He couldn't remember exactly. That had to explain his intense reaction.

“How do you think Pequita figured in?” she asked as she continued to pet Redd.

It didn't take him a second to answer. “She worked there. Cheap labor.”

“Why would they kill her, I wonder?”

Justin wasn't sure they had. Drug dealers liked to kill people execution style. This victim hadn't died that way. That's what kept bothering him. Something was off here.

Kat surprised him by asking, “Did you get the report?”

He nodded, not sure how much he wanted the press to know.

“Did it pinpoint the cause of death?”

He quickly went through his mental file of reasons for withholding the information, then he decided to give her a break. After all, she'd already helped him with the case. An article in the paper might flush out more info from someone out there.

“The victim was poisoned with a very deadly substance. Fluoroacetate is the lethal ingredient in rat poison. A drop will kill a person in a few hours.”

“Is this on the record?”

He winked at her. “Yes, I didn't bother to check with manufacturers of rodent killers. Anyone with an average knowledge of chemistry could produce a batch of fluoroacetate.”

“Is it an ingredient in crystal meth?”

Justin shook his head.

“Why go to such lengths to kill someone?”

“Good question.”

A
LITTLE AFTER TWO
that afternoon, Kat parked her Toyota in the
Trib'
s parking lot. Droplets of perspiration would soon drench her. She could get a fan for her studio, but how was she going to handle driving this car all summer? She'd constantly look like a wet rag.

Kat stepped out of the car and stamped her feet to unglue her skirt from the back of her legs. She could hardly wait to see David. Her very first scoop! On her first day at work, no less.

She heard a motor running and glanced over at a blue Lincoln LS with tinted windows. Nice car, she thought. Some day.
Be thankful for what you have,
she reminded herself. She gazed heavenward where drifting clouds painted the sky. She was free. That should be enough.

The motor shut off and the car door opened. A stunning blonde in a pale-yellow linen dress stepped out.
Oh my God.
Tori.

“I've been waiting for you,” Tori said.

Her voice hadn't changed one bit. It was still like warm honey. Tori looked more mature, even more beautiful than Kat remembered. She'd always had style, but now she obviously had money. Her long hair was flawlessly cut and woven several different shades of blond.

“I'm back,” Kat said, dismayed to hear her voice crack.

“So I see.” She smiled fondly at Kat.

Kat felt herself responding to her sister's smile. She hated herself for it, for the childhood memories it evoked. Nostalgia welled up inside her. She could almost see herself as a child. Her father was telling a story to them. Tori was gazing up at him with the same irresistible smile.

“It's hot out here. Let's talk in my car.”

Kat followed her half sister to the car.
Talk about what? Why you never wrote, never came to see me?
She told herself to remain detached, emotionless, but it was impossible. A bitter ache filled her, black and all-consuming.

Inside the car, Tori turned on the air. It was so frigid it gave Kat a chill, but it didn't take her mind off the situation. She might still be Tori's little sister, but she wasn't an awestruck, obedient child any longer.

She'd counted on her father's love as a child. She'd been too fat, too shy to assert herself. As absurd as it sounded, prison had been good for her in one way. Jail had been the school of hard knocks.

Only the strong survived.

“Why didn't you let me know Mother has cancer?”

Tori turned to Kat, a spark of some indefinable emotion in her green eyes. “I thought you had your own troubles. Why bother you with anything else?”

Tori sounded sympathetic, as if she genuinely hadn't wanted to cause more grief for Kat. She felt her throat constrict slightly, but she refused to cut her sister any slack.

“I had a right to know. She's my mother, too.”

Tori met Kat's accusing eyes with a contrite expression. “I wanted to call, but I was embarrassed because it had been so long since we'd spoken. When you were arrested, I was in Oxford. Mother said to distance ourselves. You know how she is. I should have come home and seen if I could help somehow.”

Her confession tore at something inside Kat. Her stomach rose, then fell with a sickening lurch. No matter what Tori said now—it still hurt. Being falsely accused of a crime and deserted by her family wasn't something she could easily forgive.

“It would have been nice if you had tried to help me. Between Mother and the Kincaids, I guess you didn't have much choice.” The bitterness in her voice made Kat angry with herself. She didn't want her mother or sister to know how emotionally crippling the pain of their betrayal had been.

“I know you're angry with me,” Tori said, her voice low and apologetic. “I don't blame you.”

Get over it, Kat told herself. You can't change the past. It is what it is, then you deal with it. “How is Mother?”

“Dying. She's on morphine constantly now.”

Her sister's words breached the hairline fracture in her composure and a soft gasp came from her lips. She'd known her mother was dying, but hearing her sister say it made the situation frighteningly real. Even if they hadn't really gotten along, Loretta Wells was still her mother. It was impossible to imagine a world without her. “I should go see her.”

Tori shook her head. “You'll only upset her. You know how Mother is. Appearances are everything. She's mortified that you're back in town.”

The truth ripped at Kat like a serrated blade and anger mushroomed inside her. “Did it ever occur to either of you that I didn't take the money?”

Tori gave Kat's hand a quick, reassuring squeeze. “I never ever believed you stole the money. It isn't in your nature to lie or steal.”

“What does Mother think?”

Tori hesitated a moment. “It doesn't matter what she believes. In her eyes, you humiliated her, disgraced our good name.”

“I see,” Kat said, although her tone indicated she didn't understand at all.

Loretta Wells had been socially ambitious for her daughters. She'd insisted they associate with the “right” people. Being poor was a cardinal sin. But no matter how repugnant Kat found her attitude, Loretta was her mother, and she was near death.

“How long does Mother have to live?”

“It's hard to say.” A single tear like a small diamond sparkled on Tori's eyelashes. “Weeks or months, but not much longer. I see her every day. She doesn't always know I'm there.”

Tori and Mother had always been very close. This had to be heartbreaking for Tori. Until now, Kat had thought only about herself. While Kat had been in prison, Tori had been taking care of their mother. Facing the death of someone you loved dearly had to be a nightmare that ranked right up there with going to jail. It might even be worse. Freedom came at the end of a prison sentence. Death was final.

“Is there anything I can do?” Kat asked.

An uneasy silence filled the car. Uh-oh. Here it comes.

“You know Mother has always wanted me to marry Clay Kincaid.”

True. Their mother worshiped the Kincaids because they were “quality” people who could trace their ancestors back to plantation days. Since high school, her heart had been set on Tori marrying Clay.

His family had pushed Clay to marry Verity Mason. They'd dated for a time their junior year in high school, then Verity had fallen for Justin. Clay and Tori hooked up, and when he went off to Ole Miss, Loretta had supported Tori's move to Oxford. Neither one of them wanted to chance Clay falling for someone else.

“Clay's ready to give me a ring and set the date,” Tori said with pride.

“Great! It's about time. You two have been together for years.”

“There's just one problem.” Kat detected the snick of barely concealed anger in her sister's voice. “You.”

“Me? I don't expect to be invited to the wedding,” she said, hoping she sounded indifferent. “Just go on with your plans and forget about me.”

Tori drummed perfectly manicured pink fingernails on the steering wheel. “I wish it were that simple. The judge is going to run for senate next year. They don't want a felon in the family.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I'll give you money to move away. Get out of the state so you can't be interviewed. Out of sight, out of mind.”

Anger arced through her with the force of an electrical charge. So this was why Tori had come to see her. Her sister might not have been mean to her when they were growing up, but Tori's world had always revolved around her own interests. Evidently she had a gene that rendered her unable to concentrate for more than a few minutes on anything but herself.

“You're pretty now, Kat, and slim. You could start over somewhere else.”

“I'm not free to leave,” she snapped. “I have to stay here until they release me.”

“When will that be?” Impatience underscored every syllable.

“I'll be up for review next year.”

“That's too late. I need you to go away now.”

Kat yanked the door open and jumped out of the car without another word. She didn't trust herself not to lash out at her sister. What good would it do? Tori peeled out of the parking lot, leaving the smell of burning rubber in her wake.

For a minute there, Tori had her believing she regretted the way she'd treated Kat. What about this don't you understand? Kat asked herself. Some things never change. Her family was one of them. Her father had loved her, Tori tolerated her when it was convenient, but her mother had never cared.

“Hey, it can't be that bad,” David Noyes said as she walked into the
Trib
building. He was working with Connie Proctor, the copy editor.

She mustered a smile. Fifteen minutes ago, she'd been so happy. Now she was as depressed as she'd been in prison. Even though she was dying, her own mother didn't want to see her, and her sister was so desperate to get rid of her that she'd offered her money to leave.

“I have a scoop,” she announced.

Connie's brow furrowed into a tight frown. “We've put the paper to bed.”

“That means we've formatted it and it's in the back of the building ready to be printed,” he explained. “What've you got?”

She told them about the lethal poison that killed the woman. “Justin says when we print the story, we should ask people to call him if they know someone who has a lab or has been tinkering with solutions. Fluoroacetate has to be made somewhere. You can't easily buy it because it's illegal. Someone has to know something.”

“This can wait for tomorrow's edition,” Connie said with a look that told Kat how little she thought of her scoop.

“No, it can't.” David picked up the telephone and punched a button. “Hold the press. We're reformatting the front page.” He hung up with a broad smile. “I've been dying to say ‘hold the press' for years.”

Connie groaned. “You've got to fit the story into the news hole.”

“You work on the head. I'll fill the hole.” To Kat he said, “Come with me. We're in a rush, otherwise I'd let you write the article. You need to learn the lingo. Heads mean headlines. Copy editors write them because reporters are notorious for being late to meet deadlines.”

Connie glared at Kat as they headed for David's office. It was clear she didn't appreciate being overridden, but Kat suspected the older woman would blame her. Connie knew David was in charge and would forgive him for the extra work this would mean.

“News hole refers to the space remaining for articles after the ads are inserted. Ads are placed first. It's our bread and butter. We fit the news around them.”

“But there aren't ads on the front page.”

David smiled at her and once again, Kat thought how much she liked him. “We still call them news holes. In this case the paper is ready to print. We'll have to fit your scoop into the space where we inserted a pickup article from UPI.”

She followed him into his office, saying, “The woman I interviewed may know the name of the victim. Justin wants us to withhold that info until he checks it out. We might be able to use it tomorrow or the next day.”

David spun around, clearly astonished. “Your source knew something
and
you convinced Radner to share the report with you?”

“I just got lucky. The only two people I've spent time with since returning were helpful.”

“No.
I
got lucky when they sent you here on furlough.”

She'd been so alone for so long. It had been years since anyone was actually glad to have her around. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “I want you to know that I did not steal the money.”

Between level brows, David studied her for a moment. “What happened?”

How could Kat explain? She almost wished she hadn't brought it up. She couldn't tell him she was here undercover. “I don't know what happened. Suddenly, the sheriff was at the bank, claiming money had been found in my purse.” She shrugged weakly. “I have no idea how it got there.”

“No idea?” David's gaze was sharp now.

“Someone at the bank must have framed me.”

“I see,” David said softly. “Why?”

“I wish I knew.” She told him the truth even though she'd never uttered the words to anyone else. “I asked myself that question a hundred times a day for over four years.”

He reached out and touched her arm. Kat had to fight back tears.

 

I
T WAS NINE O'CLOCK
by the time Kat got home. After David had written the story and delivered it to the press room, he'd spent hours with her while she practiced writing articles. He'd ordered a pizza, and they'd eaten it at her desk as she wrote. It had taken all her willpower to restrict herself to one piece.

When she'd been furloughed, the future had shimmered like a mirage, out of focus, out of reach. Now she knew what she wanted to do. She would be a reporter. She loved it. She honestly loved it.

Kat changed clothes and walked barefoot across her studio, the worn linoleum cool beneath her feet. She pivoted and returned to where she'd begun. It had been years since she'd gone barefoot. As a kid, she'd spent the entire summer not wearing shoes except to church. But the rough concrete floors in prison were mopped every day with an antiseptic that made your feet stink.

Life was full of small pleasures, she decided. Going barefoot was one of them. Watching the hummingbirds was another. Just being able to walk out the door on your own ranked right up there.

People were at the top of her list, too. David treated her with respect and his lead meant the rest of the staff did, too. Well, Connie was a little snippy, but Kat could handle her. Lola Rae had left a fan on her doorstep with a note, saying it had been sitting in her garage. Now the small studio was much cooler than it had been when she'd come home. Beside the fan had been a foil tray with a stack of tamales from Maria.