Nemesis (Southern Comfort) (3 page)

Skeeter was going to die here, sooner or later, in this dingy convenience store men’s room.

But he just couldn’t sit here and wait to be slaughtered like some turkey in a cage.  He had to do something to set all of this right.  So he struggled to flip open the cell phone, struggled harder to recall the right number, and then with awkward movements of his blood-slickened fingers, stabbed at buttons until he heard the mechanical voice answer.

“No one is here right now to take your call, so please leave a message after the tone.”

Skeet waited for the familiar beep.  “This is Skeet… Edward Cooper leaving this message, and this is my… my l-last will and testament.  I know who killed Nora Beth Dennison, down in Beaufort, back in October.  And if Brady and Wilson Marshall are hearing this before anyone else, then you can go straight to hell…”

CHAPTER TWO

AS
far as resolutions went, Sadie thought that leaving her fiancé holding the green bean casserole meant to grace his parents’ Christmas table and heading out for parts unknown was a hell of a way to ring in a new year.  A lot more liberating than, say, joining a gym.  Of course, chucking a five year relationship a few months before its grand culmination at the altar was a lot scarier than embarking on a new exercise regimen.  There was security in the familiar, and walking away from Rick had been the emotional equivalent of stepping out on a high wire without a net.  

She’d just given up becoming Mrs. Richard Carlisle over a pair of sensible shoes.

Well, to be honest, the sensible shoes had merely been a sort of indicator, a visible stress fracture on the surface which hinted at the fault that lay beneath. 

Sadie glanced over at the brown leather Ortho-soles, their thick, rubbery bottoms perched hideously on her Beetle’s passenger seat.  She’d kept them there on the entire trip east as a reminder of why she was leaving.  Any time she lost her nerve – like that sleepless night she’d spent on the outskirts of Oklahoma City, listening to a group of local thugs break beer bottles in the motel parking lot – she’d called to mind unwrapping those Ortho-soles. 

And it had made her so damn angry all over again that her nerves paled in comparison.

This had been their first affianced Christmas together, and after hosting Christmas Eve dinner for Rick’s family, she’d slipped into the sexy little red teddy trimmed in white fur she’d bought for the occasion, trying her best not to feel ridiculous.  And with visions of seduct
ion dancing in her head, marshaled her nerves and glided downstairs on truly fabulous, old Hollywood style high-heeled bedroom slippers. 

She eased up behind Rick’s chair, snaked her arms around his ski-slope tanned neck and waited for him to notice.

He patted her arm absently as the ESPN announcer rattled off some statistics.   

Sadie waited, a tad less patiently, and eyed the artful arrangement of presents beneath the tree.  She’d agonized over the perfect gift for the man who
basically had everything, but she’d paid careful attention to casual comments he’d made and managed to save enough money for a new set of Pings. 

Her eyes narrowed at the gaily wrapped clubs and she tapped her slipper in irritation.

“Oh.” Rick finally noticed that she was still hovering behind him.  “Do you need something, sweetheart?”

“Oh, I definitely need something,” she purred
. “And you’re just the man to give it to me.”

Start
ing at the unexpected tone, Rick blinked and turned around.  He’d taken her in with a disbelieving gape, and to her humiliation, started to laugh.  “You look like an X-rated holiday program.  When Nympho Elves Attack.”

Her vision of a lust-filled coupling beside their first shared Christmas tree crumpled faster than holiday wrapping.  Hiding her hurt behind an unnatural smile, Sadie forced out an awkward laugh.  “That bad, huh? 

“Not bad.  Just… not you.”

Rick climbed from his chair and went toward the tree.  “I was going to make you wait until morning, but I think this will be appropriate for tonight.”  He handed her a red-covered rectangle whose perfect corners suggested that professional hands had wrapped it. 

Sadie opened it with a smile of conciliation.  “It’s lovely.” The thick, luxurious white robe matched the one hanging in Rick’s bathroom.

“You’ll look like a perfect
little angel.”

His words
normally would have struck her as sweet, but instead she found them annoying.  She was tired of Rick seeing this sort of… generic version of herself.  Like an empty coloring book page that he could fill in to suit his wishes.

She’d liked this teddy, damn it.
  Even if she did look like a nympho elf. 

Swallowing past a lump of frustration, Sadie mustered a grateful kiss.  It was their first Christmas Eve as almost-husband and wife and she wouldn’t ruin it with petty irritation.        

The next morning started off better.  Rick was delighted with his new set of clubs, and beamed self-satisfaction when she opened a pair of impressive diamond studs. They laughed when they discovered they’d bought each other the same book.  Sadie started feeling childish and ungrateful for her dissatisfaction as she began unwrapping another present.  Whatever problems her relationship with Rick might have, there was no question that it was solid.  They’d built it slowly over the past five years and knew each other quite well. 

The size of the package she was opening indicated footwear, and Sadie’s fingers began moving faster.  Rick knew how much she loved shoes
, the sexier and less practical the better.  And as much as she was impressed by the earrings and appreciated the robe and book, this was a gift that said he understood her.  

She envisioned Manolo Blahnik, or maybe Jimmy Choo –
brands she adored from afar but never had the funds for. Jubilantly pulling the lid from the box, she encountered… Ortho-soles.

“They’re apparently quite comfortable,” Rick began, absently fingering a new club as she stared dumbfounded into the box.  “The next best thing to orthopedic.”

He’d bought her…
orthopedic
-like shoes?

A whistling noise sounded in Sadie’s ears.

“You’re always on your feet at work, and these are more sensible than those little frou-frou things you wear.  Probably more in line with the school’s dress code, anyway.”

Sadie was an elementary art teacher for an exclusive private school in the area, and yes, the dress code was conservative.   

Rick plucked a shoe out and examined it.  “These are more you.” 

The whistling noise grew louder.
 
This
was how he saw her?

“Let me know if the size is accurate.  I was sort of guessing when I bought them.” 

Not realizing the extent of his mistake, Rick dropped the shoe next to its mate.  “We’re due at my parents’ house at noon. Make sure you wear your earrings.” He winked.  “I’m looking forward to seeing my Dad’s expression when he realizes he’s going to have to buy my mom a bigger pair.”

The whistling grew to an ominous din as Sadie sat motionless, holding the box. The small kernel of dissatisfaction she’d experienced last night exploded to an unmanageable size.  What she’d thought was solid and steady was really a haphazard bridge cobbled together over a chasm.  The only reason this relationship had worked so well for so long was because Sadie gave Rick whatever he wanted. She’d been so surprised, so grateful that he, Rick Carlisle – calendar boy and investment banking whiz kid – even noticed her that she’d bent over backward and forward and backward again to keep him happy and their relationship safe.  But all the effort on her part had come at a price she’d never expected.

Sadie was in danger of losing herself.

The other gifts he
’d given her were fairly generic, and while maybe more about Rick than having all that much to do with Sadie, the prim, conservative, sensible shoes staring back at her were the wake-up call she’d been avoiding.  They clearly said that Rick didn’t really see her.  And given the fact that she herself could practically feel her true colors fading away, it was likely he never would.    

From there things had gone downhill.  Numb from the shoe disaster, Sadie somehow made it through breakfast without exploding, then dressed and stuck those earrings in her lobes like the pathetic little lemming she was.  But when she started making
a green bean casserole, Rick insisted that she didn’t need to bring it.  “My mom will have a feast fit for a king,” he assured her. 

And her casserole didn’t cut it.  Rick didn’t say it in so many words, but Sadie had gotten pretty skilled at deciphering subtext. 
Her childhood hadn’t precisely been the height of elegance and sophistication, and the green bean casserole – complete with fried onions – was one of her family’s traditions. But Rick had never expressed much interest in her roots. He’d teased her about her lingering accent when they first started dating, insisting on acting like she’d stepped barefoot from the cotton patch. 

Sadie held her temper and her tongue more times than not, but Christmas always brought a wave of homesickness over her and she wanted a piece of her past at his family’s table.

“You can bring it,” he said when it was finished, playing the indulgent but exasperated fiancé to the hilt. “Just don’t expect anyone else to eat it.”

And that had finally done it.  Sadie calmly covered the dish in foil and handed it to Rick.  Then she’d grabbed her coat, her purse, those hideously sensible shoes, and marched out the
beveled glass front door.

Perplexed, Rick followed, heels crunching in the snow, breath forming a cloud that shrouded the confusion on his handsome face.

“What are you doing?” he asked, the casserole forgotten in his hands.

“I’m leaving you,” Sadie said calmly, feeling more relaxed than she’d been in years.  Then sh
e’d reminded him to sprinkle the fried onions on top, and pulled away without a backward glance.

Now, almost one week later, most of Sadie’s calm had disappeared.  Leaving her old life behind and heading cross country was one of the hardest things she’d ever done.   

So here she sat in her car in front of a familiar bar in Charleston, trying not to wonder if she’d done the right thing.  Then she looked at the printed flyer on the door proclaiming there’d be “FREE GREEN BEER SERVED AT MIDNIGHT.”

A new year.

Old friends.

The bittersweet comfort of childhood surroundings.

Sadie opened her door and headed toward Murphy’s Irish Pub, thinking that there was no better place to start over than home.

CHAPTER THREE

HIS
sister snapped a jazzy little party hat on Declan’s head while his arms were laden down with pilsners.  “There,” she crowed, standing back to survey the effect.  “Now your scowl won’t scare away the customers.  Honestly, Declan, Dad’s going to send you to the kitchen to wash dishes if you don’t do something about your black mood.”

“I hate New Year’s,” he snarled from beneath the shiny foil cone.  Like she didn’t know that.     

Kathleen patted his shoulder.  “I know you’re disappointed your resolution didn’t work out last year, but buck up and look at the bright side.  With that Jenny Craig package deal I got you for Christmas, you should be able to fit into your bikini in no time.”

Declan’s lip twitched but his frown didn’t falter. It was bad enough that he had to be here.  He didn’t need to celebrate the fact.  “Don’t you have a dead body to cut up or something?”

“I’m a homicide detective, not a medical examiner.  And stop saying that or you’re going to jinx me.  This is the first New Year’s Eve I’ve had off in years, but if something comes up you can bet they’re going to call me in.”

“I’ll go,” Declan offered.  Better than being around all this forced joviality.  Terri, the h
ot waitress he’d hired a few weeks ago, hit his face with confetti as she was passing. It was the second time in the past hour. Once more and he was gonna fire her ass, no matter how good it looked in tight jeans.

Before Kathleen could comment or try to cheer him up again, Rogan shouted for clean glasses.

Declan made his escape, dislodging the hat as he squeezed through the crowd.  It was immediately crushed underfoot.  His hands slipped on the hard plastic tub, and he tried to pretend the heat was the cause of his sweating. That the garish display of revelry wasn’t making him sick. 

A noisemaker blared, and his heart skipped. 

The next person who tried to put him in a party mood, he’d provide the homicide for his sister to investigate.

KATHLEEN
frowned as she watched Declan’s retreating back, and batted the Mylar balloon hovering in front of her.  It wobbled off toward the ceiling, and she scanned the crowd to avoid worrying over her brother.  He was only going to continue alienating everyone around him, just like he had for years.  She didn’t know why she bothered.

The mix of familiar faces and tourists was growing rowdier by the hour, and Kathleen wondered if she’d make it to midnight.  Not that she resented her job, but there were times when it was damn inconvenient.  At least she was alone tonight and didn’t have to worry about disappointing a date.