Playing Dead in Dixie (6 page)

Wes shot Carly a questioning look.

"I was telling Bonnie I had to leave most of my clothes behind when I came down.  We were talking about where I could pick up some new stuff," Carly explained.

Remembering the feel of her silk underwear sliding over his fingers when he'd searched her bag the day before, Wes wasn't sure Carly Devlin would find Shannon's homemade fashions quite her thing.  But Shannon could certainly use the extra income.  "I'm sure Shannon can come up with something you'd like."

"Okay.  I'll go with you."  Carly glanced up at Wes again, as if to gauge his reaction.

He kept his expression carefully neutral, not willing to reveal what he was thinking.  Especially when he was thinking that the drive to Shannon Burgess's house was fifteen minutes there and fifteen back, and every one of those minutes was going to be spent alone with Carly Devlin.

CARLY HAD THOUGHT THAT Bangor was about as small and rural as a place could get, until halfway down Culpepper Road, Wes turned the wheel of his Chevy pick-up truck and drove straight into the woods.

At least, it seemed that way, although the pick-up's headlights made out a narrow, rutted dirt road winding ahead of them under a towering canopy of long-leaf pines and oaks.  Despite wearing a seat belt, Carly had to grip the dashboard to stay upright as the truck bucked and shimmied over the rough terrain, taking a particularly hard drop that tilted the cab sideways. Even the seat belt's shoulder strap couldn't keep Carly's upper body from slamming hard against Wes's shoulder.

He put his hand across her midsection to steady her.  "Sorry about that."

It had been so long since he'd spoken, the sound of his voice made her jump.  "Is this some kind of short cut?"

He shook his head.  "I guess you could call this Shannon's driveway."

Her eyes widened.  "You mean people live in here?"

He nodded.  "There've been Hakes and Burgesses in Hickory Woods since before the War."

"Which war?"

The blue glow of the dashboard lights illuminated his slow smile.  "Around here, sugar, there's only one war you don't have to call by its name.  Here's a hint: y'all won it."

"Ah."  Her own lips curved with amusement.

"Of course, y'all probably cheated."  He kept his arm stretched out across her lap as they hit another hard bump.  His hand settled briefly against her hip bone, heat seeping through the cotton twill of her slacks and branding the skin beneath. The air in her lungs grew thick, making it hard to breathe.

"I don't know if you're going to find anything you like at Shannon's, but do me a favor and have her make you something anyway.  I'll give you the money to pay for it."

"Is she poor?"

"She sure ain't rich.  And she's proud folk.  Doesn't like to take charity."  He motioned his head toward the food boxed up in the bed of the truck.  "I can't say for sure she's even going to take that food without a fuss."

"Tell her you brought it so she could be in charge of giving it out to whoever needed it." Carly suggested.  "Keep what she can use and share the rest with her neighbors.  That way she's contributing instead of just taking charity."

Wes turned his head and gave her a long, considering look. "You've done charity work before?"

"Something like that."  She thought about the tiny apartment in Vineland, the postage stamp-sized room she'd shared with her sisters Lorna and Teresa.  Most Christmases, toys and treats had come not from her parents or Santa Claus but from a good-hearted group of anonymous office workers who'd taken up a fund to play Santa for a poor family in the community.

The truck's headlights flashed across a wood structure ahead.  A house, Carly saw as they rounded a gentle bend in the road and the headlights illuminated the face of the building. It was small, made entirely of weathered gray clapboard, with a low porch spanning the width of the front.  A bloodhound lying on the porch pushed himself up to a sitting position and gave a low, half-hearted bark.

"My hero," Carly muttered, secretly pleased when she heard Wes's soft chuckle in response.

"Old Nate's probably fifteen years old if he's a day.  Cut him a little slack."  Wes pulled up next to another Chevrolet pick-up truck parked in the yard.  The other truck was at least a decade old, with a weather-worn exterior full of dents and dings and a right front fender that was Bondo gray.

On the porch, the hound's tail thumped lazily against the porch floor.  As Carly opened the door to get out, she heard the dog's low, happy whimper of greeting.

Wes unloaded the box of food from the truck bed and started toward the porch, motioning with his head for Carly to go up ahead of him.  The hound greeted her at the top step, sniffing her hand a couple of times before giving her knuckles a lazy flick of his long tongue.

"No licking, mister," she scolded, giving the hound a quick scratch behind his velvety ears.  "Not on the first date."

She heard Wes stumble on the step behind her, and she turned around quickly, just in time to keep the box of food from tumbling out of his grip.

"I've got it," Wes said, his voice a little gruff. He followed Carly to the door and waited while she knocked.

After a moment, the door opened, and a pretty redhead with an enormous belly smiled at Carly through the screen door.  She pushed the door open, her smile fading as she caught sight of Wes. "Chief Hollingsworth, is something wrong?"

"Not a thing," Wes assured her quickly.  He shot Carly a brief look before holding the box of food out toward Shannon.  "But I could sure use your help on something."

"NOW, IF YOU DON'T LIKE any of these, we can look at some other designs."  Shannon Burgess handed Carly a manila folder.  "I picked out things I think would look best on you."

Carly opened the folder and looked over the sketches she found inside.  They lacked the sophistication of fashion sketches by a trained couture, but there was no mistaking the raw talent.  "These are beautiful, Shannon."

Shannon had chosen five different outfits—a casual dress, two sleek pantsuits, and a couple of casual blouses that Carly could wear with jeans or dress pants.  Each was well-designed, with enough classic lines to be practical and enough innovations to be fresh, in unexpected color combinations.  A bubble of excitement rose in Carly's throat.  "You can make these for me?"

"If you make a choice soon," Shannon confirmed with a wry smile, patting her belly.  "Wait too long, and Junior may have something to say about it."

"No need to wait.  How much for all five?"

Shannon named a price that was nowhere near what the outfits were worth.  "That includes the price of the fabric.   Fabric Finds has some really nice stuff at great prices.  I work there when I'm not squeezin' out puppies."  She grinned.  "Leanne lets me keep a tab there until the items are finished, and then I pay her once I'm paid.  If you want, I can meet you in town tomorrow and we can see what they have."

Carly grinned.  "Shopping?  I am so there."

Shannon giggled, her freckled nose wrinkling.  "Great!  And the price is okay?"

"The price is more than okay.  In fact, I really can't let you charge such a low price.  Do you have any idea what designer clothing goes for these days?"

Shannon blushed.  "I'm not a real designer."

Carly patted the sketches in front of her. "You can do stuff like this, you're a designer.  Trust me.  I can't possibly let you make these for me unless you double the prices of each one.  I couldn't live with myself."  Of course, she might have to take Wes up on that offer to pay, at least as a loan, but it would be worth it.  The designs really were beautiful.

"Are you sure?  The extra money sure would help."

"I'm sure."  Carly glanced across the room toward Wes and found him sitting cross-legged on the floor near the cold fireplace, playing trucks with Jackson, Shannon's carrot-topped two-year-old.  The little boy gazed with sheer delight at Wes, who was making low "vroom-vroom!" noises as he moved one of the trucks around the woven rug.

Carly's stomach turned a couple of flips, then clenched into a hot knot when Wes looked up and met her gaze, his expression unreadable.

She looked away quickly and turned back to Shannon.  "So, you've lived here all your life, I hear."

Shannon nodded.  "Born and raised.  I hear you're from New Jersey."

"Ya think?"  Carly laughed.  "You've heard about me already?  I've been in town for just two days."

"Small town gossip.  It could teach the FBI a thing or two about where all the skeletons are hidden."  Shannon's chuckled and sat back, stretching her legs.  "Good lord, I'm tied of being pregnant.  The first seven months aren't so bad, but the last two will make you swear you're never gonna have sex again."  Her smile faded.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them.  Carly struggled for a new topic, then decided if she and Shannon were going to spend any time together, it might be best just to get the subject of her dead husband out in the open.  "I understand you're a widow."

Shannon nodded.  "My husband Jimmy Wayne died a few months ago in a car accident.  He had a bit of a lead foot."  She passed her hand over her rounded belly.  "You never know what's gonna happen one day to the next."

"How long were you married?"

"Almost ten years, can you believe?"  Shannon gazed over at her son.  "We got married right out of high school."

Ten years, Carly thought.  Ten years, and Shannon was still living in this backwoods, scraping for enough money just to get by, with one little ankle-biter toddling around the house and another on the way.

Carly knew what happened next.  A woman with two kids couldn't hold down much of a job.  She'd have to apply for welfare.  She and the kids would scrape by, barely, and the kids would end up waiting for Santa in the form of the nice folks down at the insurance company who pooled their money to adopt a poor family for Christmas.

That's what happened to people who limited their options.

"Did I say something wrong?" Shannon asked.

Carly shook her head quickly, schooling her expression with practiced ease.  "I was just thinking you must have gone to school with Steve Strickland."

"Yeah.  Pretty much everyone who grew up around here went to the same school."  Shannon looked over at Wes and lowered her voice.  "Steve was a few years ahead of me.  Wes, too.  Although I do remember that when I was in grade school, he was considered the hottest guy around."

Carly leaned in.  "Do tell."

"Well, he wasn't always Mr. Law and Order, you know."

"Carly?" Wes's voice, almost right in her ear, made her jump.  She looked up and found him holding the keys to his truck in one hand.  "Sorry to break up the girl talk, but it's almost nine, and I need to check in on my dad before I go home."

"Oh, okay."  Carly turned back to Shannon.  "I don't go in to work tomorrow until one.  Do you want to meet me at Fabric Finds around ten?"

"I'll be there."  Shannon pushed herself up from the chair, groaning and rubbing her back.  "Unless Junior gets impatient."

As Shannon walked them to the door, she gave Carly directions from the hardware store to the fabric store.  "I'll see you in the morning, ten sharp.  And please, do tell Miss Bonnie how much I appreciate her sendin' all that food.  I'll be sure it gets around to everybody who can use a little extra."

Back in the truck, Wes turned to look at her as he cranked the engine.  "Looked like you two hit it off pretty well."

They had, Carly realized with some surprise.  "Have you seen her sketches?  She's really good.  And she was going to charge me next to nothing for the outfits.  I made her agree to take twice what she was asking."

"That was generous of you."

"It's only fair."  She cut her eyes at him.  "Of course, I may need to hit you up for a loan, until I get paid."

He smiled.  "What if you get yourself fired first?"

She buckled herself in and gave an airy wave.  "Oh, Floyd won't fire me.  Floyd likes me.  Floyd has excellent taste."

"Floyd's also having a rough patch at the store.  At least, that's what Aunt Bonnie told me."  Worry lines creased his brow. "I didn't know. I thought they were doing as well as most of the other businesses in town."

"Really?  Floyd said he just figured the economy was bad all over."

"We've had a pretty good uptick in business around Bangor over the last few months.  Lot of places are hiring two and three at a time these days.  I don't understand why the hardware store isn't thriving as well.  Floyd always seems busy."

Carly cleared her throat.  "I mentioned to Floyd that I'd be glad to take a look at his books."

"And that would be helpful because . . . ?"

"Because I have an accounting degree."

His eyes narrowed. "You do?"

Carly threw up her hands.  "What, you have to have warts on your nose and crooked teeth to be good at math?  Why do people always think I'm lying about that?"

"You're right.  I'm sorry."

She narrowed her eyes, not certain his apology was quite sincere.

He fell silent as he pulled onto Culpepper Road and then onto the four lane into town, but as they neared the outskirts, he asked, "So Floyd said no to you looking at his books?"

"Well, I
am
a stranger.  I wasn't going to push it."

"Smart girl.  Floyd may not look it, but he's the sort of fellow who can dig in his heels when you try to give him a nudge."  Wes's half-smile turned into a frown as he peered through the windshield.

"What is it?" Carly asked, following his gaze.  She saw nothing but a small, neat house.  Through the front window Carly could make out the flickering blue glow of a television.

"That's my dad's house.  It's after nine.  He should be in the back by now, getting ready for bed."  He glanced her way.  "Do you mind if I stop in to check before I take you home?"

"Of course not."

Wes parked in his father's driveway and got out of the truck.  As he headed up the walk, Carly debated whether to stay put or to follow him inside.  The creepy night sounds outside the truck made up her mind for her.  She got out of the truck and hurried up the walk, reaching Wes's side as he knocked on the door.