Lost in Tennessee (26 page)

“You’re getting facts and truth mixed. Facts are for court. Truth sells papers. Once people believe something, it’s truth, regardless of the facts.” She stood then, nearly eye to eye in the stilts on her feet. “You and I have worked the same block for a while now. I like you, Butch. I want to be your friend.” She ran her fingers up his arm. “Right now, you need all the friends you can find. Get me?”

Butch didn’t want to imagine the stories Fawn would spin. He’d left the social stalking to Finch for sanity’s sake, but it wouldn’t be smart to shut it out altogether. Finch taught him that attention and media were tools to be used, because as Abbey said, facts didn’t matter. Truth did. Butch checked his watch. He had two hours before he needed to meet Katie at Hyde’s garage. “How about I buy you a sweet tea?”

“How lovely.” She laced her arm in his. “I know a little place.”

Abbey McNeil earned her reputation as ruthless, using whatever it took for a story. Right then, she used her thigh, pressed tight against Butch’s in this little bar, to show her interest. The touch made Butch feel like cockroaches ran over his skin. He only wanted one woman pressed against him, but he stayed where he was. There was nothing personal about this.

Butch smiled, inviting the conversation. “Where do we begin?”

Chapter Thirteen

K
ate opened her eyes, listening to birds already busy with their day. Her alarm went off, reminding her she had a busy day, too. Her fingertips just reached the button that silenced the noise. She awoke wrapped around Butch, her body well-loved and tantalizingly sore. He had come to her the night before like a starving man and she was a buffet. Again and again he came back, hungry for still more. She stretched to ease those aches, and Butch rubbed against her in his sleep. She lifted her chin and nibbled at his jaw while her hands slid across his naked hips. Butch groaned softly, breathlessly, still asleep. Kate swirled her fingers over his ass, exploring his body, watching every small reaction. She knew he woke when he inhaled deeply. She moved swiftly, rolling him to his back and covering his body with hers. Butch moved beneath her, his hands groped blindly for a hold. Kate slid down him, trailing kisses along the hair on his chest to his flat stomach to the niche in his hips that she loved to nibble.

Kate took Butch in her hand and drew her tongue up the length of him. Butch gasped and went rigid. Kate dipped her head and licked him again, taking time to swirl her tongue around his engorged head.

“Oh, God,” Butch gasped and lifted her until she straddled him.

Kate planted her hands on his chest and let her weight slide his length. “You have no patience.”

“I don’t want patience. I want you. Only you.” His fingers pressed into her hips, moving her to the rhythm he wanted. He pried his eyes open and smiled slowly, as if he enjoyed the view.

Kate dropped her head back, spilling her hair down his arms, across her back. She ground against him until she flew over the edge. While her body convulsed, she swirled her hips and did something with her muscles that yanked him over that edge the like a fifteen-year-old with his father’s
Playboy
. His hands clenched in her hair, and he pulled her down to his chest where he kept her pinned.

She snuggled into him, content as a cat. “Good morning.”

“G’night,” he mumbled and turned his face into her hair.

Kate laughed, kissed his gruff jaw, and moved to separate their bodies. “I need to get up. I’m going to Louisville today.”

With a deep inhale, Butch opened his arms, setting her free. He looked at the clock and grinned. “It’s nearly a decent time of day. You starting to see things my way?”

Kate brushed the curls from his eyes. “Absolutely not. I thought I’d indulge you since I don’t have to be in Louisville until nine.”

“Hmmm. Nine. What would happen if you were late?” He dipped his head, nibbling her neck.

She turned her head, improving his access. “Thinking of setting a record for recovery?”

Butch caught her hands and lifted his head to look at her face. “Mmmm. Wondering if in your calculations you considered that Louisville is in the Eastern Time zone?”

Her entire body jolted, the haze of cosmic sex cleared. “Lemme up.”

“Slow down. Racing isn’t going to make up an hour.” Butch held her as she struggled. “Simmer down, and I’ll let you up.”

The panic that came with the realization of tardiness passed. This wasn’t a meeting, it was a trade show. If she missed a session, no blood, no foul. “Okay. I won’t race. Promise. But I need to get going.” Kate climbed out of bed and made quick work of her morning routine.

Butch sat up in bed as she tossed clothes left and right. “Did you find your cell phone?”

“No. Hyde didn’t find it in my truck, it’s not in my office.”

Butch arranged the pillows behind his back. “Where did you have it last?”

She’d been asking herself that since she realized she didn’t have it. “I don’t remember having it at all yesterday.”

“You talked to your father in the morning. Something about a report.”

“How could I forget?” Kate flipped the light on.

Butch threw his arm over his eyes. “Son of a bitch. A little warning.”

“Come out, come out where ever you are.” Kate crawled across the floor of their bedroom, searching by the light of a single lamp. She found the shoes from the night before, a bra, and one of Butch’s T-shirts. “It has to be here. Butch, call it.”

Sitting up in bed, Butch used his cell phone and dialed her number. Within minutes, the connection went through, and Kate’s phone rang.

“Ha!” Kate dug between the tucked-in cover and the mattress beneath. “Whew. Lucky the battery didn’t die.” Kate sat on the edge of the bed, leaning into Butch. “Have a good day today. I’ll miss you.” She pressed her lips to his.

Butch caught the back of her head in his palm, taking the good-bye kiss to something that invited her to return quickly. “Come back soon.”

“Fast as I can.”

B
utch finished a piano version of his current chart topper at half the tempo he’d recorded it. Tom set a magazine on the wooden surface and a beer wet with condensate on top of it. “Thanks. Good day?”

“Hell no. I always have to work twice as hard when Kate’s not there. She keeps everyone and everything in line and my world is better for it, and if you ever tell her I said that, I’ll call you out as the lying bastard you are. I could use a drink.”

Jeb shoved a pile of potato chips into his mouth and curled the top of the bag down, munching then swallowing as he put the bag away. “I know just the place for a drink and a bite. You in, Clyde?”

“Might as well,” Butch said, knowing if he didn’t go out he’d watch the clock until Kate returned. “You buy and we’ll even count it as your turn cooking. You wanna join us, Trudy?”

Trudy had called on her way home and stopped in. “I’m going to pass in favor of a bubble bath and a home-style pedicure. Why don’t you give Hyde a call? Save him from working late.”

Butch texted Hyde.
Heading to SD. You in?

The response was as fast as technology allowed.
Yup. On my way.

“He’s in,” Butch said. “Sure we can’t talk you into it, Trud?”

Trudy cleared the coffee table. “Not tonight, Butchy.”

Tom dropped to the floor and pounded out pushups.

“What are you doing?” Jeb stood, brushing any lingering crumbs from his shirt.

“Prepping. Appreciating the ladies doesn’t happen by accident.” Tom did ten push-ups with clapping between. “Practice.”
Clap.
“Makes.”
Clap.
“Perfect.”
Clap
.

The Sly Dog was scant on patrons, but what it lacked in people, it made up for with gusto. The waitress kept the four men playing pool well supplied with good beer and cheap nachos. While Hyde lined up his shot, Tom leaned on his cue, watching the way she flowed around the obstacles with the full tray balanced on one hand.

“Are you a dancer?”

The cute blonde with short hair and shorter shorts eyed him up and down before answering. “I’ve always danced. I was on the dance squad in high school.”

“Doesn’t surprise me one bit. You are a thing of beauty and so graceful when you walk around. I can’t keep my eyes off you.”

“Then how are you up three balls?” Jeb asked.

She raised an eyebrow. “Three balls? That’s impressive. Most men have trouble managing two. You need anything else, Jeb? Butch? Hyde?”

“I’m done,” Jeb said. “I’m driving.”

“I’ll have one more,” Butch said.

Hyde lifted his empty. “Me, too.”

“And you?” she asked.

“I’m Tom. Do you have any sweet tea?”

“Well, that would be me. Tiffany.”

“Just bring Butch’s beer, sweet T.” Jeb rolled his eyes and sent her on her way. He looked at Tom before lining up his shot. “What is with you and women?”

“I like the ladies.”

Butch’s phone rang. He read the screen and immediately answered it. “What’s the good word, Finch?”

Finch had been earning his keep managing the fallout from the Fawn incident. So far, most of the Internet play had been in his favor, painting Fawn as a bitter ex. The meet with Abbey McNeil helped. Abbey didn’t play fair, she played favorites, and Butch had made the cut. Butch denied flirting with Abbey, he just talked. Either way, Finch approved.

“Abbey post another blog on Fawn’s breasts?”

“Fawn is missing.”

Butch frowned, waving Jeb, Tom, and Hyde to silence. “Missing? What do you mean missing? I’m putting you on speaker. Jeb’s here.”

“Hold on. Let’s get someplace I can hear myself think.” Jeb signaled to the owner, received a nod, and led the way to the office. The four men squeezed in. A glorified closet, the office had the two things they needed: quiet and a closed door. “All right. What do we have?”

Butch set the phone on the cluttered desk. A tinny version of Finch’s voice filled the space. “Fawn left her hotel this morning and hasn’t been seen since. She told her personal assistant, an Arturo Youngblood, that she was going to see you about the divorce.”

“I haven’t seen her, Finch. I’ve been tied up all day. Even saw the lawyers.”

“Did you call her?” Jeb asked, frowning.

“No,” Butch denied vehemently.

Finch cleared his throat. “Her flavor of the month claimed you asked to meet her to discuss the divorce privately.”

Butch denied it hotly. “I didn’t, Jeb. Finch, you know I was leaving all of that to you.”

Jeb edged toward the phone. “Finch, do you know what time she left the hotel?”

“Nine-thirty. The concierge made note because of the fuss she made on her way out.”

“I’ll make a few calls,” Jeb said. “If she was coming this way, maybe my boys know something. We shouldn’t jump to conclusions. We have enough of our own problems. The State Police are taking over the investigation into Angie’s death due to the conflict of interest.” Jeb looked at Butch. “I was going to tell you when we were alone.”

Butch folded his arms and glared at his brother. “What conflict of interest?”

“My ex-sister-in-law was found strangled on my parents’ property, and my brother is their strongest suspect.”

Finch jumped in. “I’m going to call in the morning and set up a meeting. I want to be ahead of them on this. Let me get to work. Call me back if you need me.”

Butch slapped his palms on his thighs. “What is there to be ahead of? I didn’t do this. What motivation did I have to kill Angie? Lots of people have exes. That can’t be a reason to kill.”

Jeb squeezed Butch’s shoulder. “No. No, it’s not. The case they’ll build will be based on her repeatedly asking for money. You gave it to her, but it wasn’t enough for Angie. You told her no, cut her off, but she kept after you. Monday morning, you invited her over, maybe took her for a walk by the creek. You’d had enough.”

Butch’s stomach revolted. He swallowed hard to keep the bile in place. “Jesus, Jeb. It’s not true. You gotta know it’s not true.”

“I do. I also know you didn’t cut Angie off. I know you threatened to, but you didn’t. There was no obligation to pay her a cent, yet you did. Even though opportunity existed, the motive isn’t there. The State Police are good people. They’ll see there’s no evidence.” Jeb ran his hands through his short hair, his only nervous habit. “We did find something of a more personal nature, though. I need to tell you before they do. Let’s go back to the old house.”

Butch didn’t care if Tom and Hyde were there. “Just say it, Jeb.”

Jeb narrowed his eyes then nodded. “You weren’t the baby’s father. It was there, in Angie’s diary.”

Butch chewed on the information, but it didn’t fit with his understanding of reality. Like looking at a map where north pointed down, it didn’t quite make sense. “No. She was pregnant. That’s why we got married.”

Jeb looked Butch square in the eye. “I know, but it wasn’t yours.”

The party broke up then. Jeb drove back to the old house where Butch sought the refuge of wood and steel. Night pressed against the single pane windows, listening to the story Butch wove. He played the songs of his life, from seventeen through today. How would his life be different today if he hadn’t married Angie? Would he have tried college? Would he have hit the road sooner? Without a doubt, his path would have been different. Butch believed every decision created a unique path. Would he have ever met Tessa? Fawn? Would he have traded one bad choice for another?

Butch picked a simple twelve-bar blues tune. “Every path has joy. Every path has pain. For a tree to grow, takes sunshine and rain. I don’t know which way to go. I only know from which I came.”

Floor boards groaned in the hallway. The house agreed, he thought, then movement caught his eye.

“I’m touched. Just one day apart, and you’re singing the blues.” Kate stood in the doorway with a teasing smile, her hair three hundred sixty degrees of red froth.

She looked…perfect. “Did you drive all the way with the windows down?”

“Hell, yes. What’s the point of driving if you can’t feel it? Besides, my day was weird.”

“Betcha mine was weirder.” Butch set the guitar in the stand and held his arms wide until Kate filled them.