Somewhere Between Luck and Trust (30 page)

He knelt and wrapped a blanket around Beau, lifting him a little and pulling it under him, then tying the corners together on each end.

“You can’t make that kind of decision for me,” Cristy said. “And the women who’re letting me stay here come and go.... They’ll think there’s something else going on, you staying overnight.”

He got to his feet. “You have to tell them about Jackson, don’t you think? And once they know who I am, they’ll understand why I’m staying over. He’s not going to bother you if anyone else is here, so when they’re spending the night, I can stay away.”

He was right. It was past time to tell the goddesses. Tonight Jackson had been armed, and Beau was proof. Maybe he’d been armed the first time, too, and Sully’s appearance had averted a tragedy. She owed her benefactors too much to continue to hide what was happening.

“Let’s get Beau back to the house,” he said. “Help me wrap this blanket around his middle. We’ll slide it under the other one and tie it. Then we can carry him inside, if he lets us. And I think he will. He’s exhausted.”

She tabled the rest of their conversation and between them they managed to get the dog securely wrapped and ready to be transported. Sully clamped the barrel of his flashlight securely under his arm to light their way, then together, with Cristy in the back and Sully facing forward, they carefully lifted their heavy bundle.

She wouldn’t have been able to lift the dog alone, but sharing the evenly distributed weight, she thought she could make it. Beau protested with a whimper and tried to get to his feet, then lay still when that proved too difficult. Once he settled, they began to inch their way toward the house.

Chapter Thirty-Four

CRISTY MADE COCOA
and Sully made a fire in the old stone fireplace, not because it was cold inside, but to keep Beau warm. They laid him in a nest of blankets on the hearth, and Sully cleaned the wound and covered it with gauze and an Ace bandage he was able to wrap around the dog’s body to secure the dressing. The bleeding had nearly stopped by the time they got up to the house, and the gauze and the bandage seemed to take care of the rest. Beau managed to lap some water; then he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

“Do you think he’s going to be okay?” Cristy asked, holding out a mug to Sully. From the Johnstons she had learned that the closest vet was in Mars Hill, but they wouldn’t open again until morning.

“I’ve seen dogs survive worse. If there was a vet around the corner I’d take him right there, but for now this seems best.” He got to his feet and took the mug. “What were you thinking, going out to look for him in the dark? Were you sure Jackson wasn’t hanging around?”

“Thank you, Cristy, for saving my dog’s life,” she mocked lightly.

“Look, I’m happier than I can say that Beau’s probably going to be okay, but you’re more important than a dog.”

“I’ve spent my whole life trying to figure out what other people are going to do, just so I can figure out how to keep them from hurting me. I don’t want to live like that. Beau’s loyal to me. I’m loyal to him.”

He shook his head, but his expression softened. “You’re nothing like I thought you were. I was dead wrong.”

“I guess that’s nice to hear, if about eight months of incarceration too late.”

“I know you didn’t steal that ring.”

It was so good to hear him say it out loud that she couldn’t speak. Tears filled her eyes, and she looked away.

“I didn’t get much dinner,” he said. “Can I rustle up something?”

She turned, glad to compose herself out of view. “I’ll make you a sandwich.”

She returned a few minutes later, calmer and with a peanut butter and banana sandwich to go with his cocoa. She joined him on the sofa. Beau was no longer shivering, and Sully said he had just checked and the dog seemed to be breathing normally.

“What a night for the poor guy.” After a sip or two Cristy sat back and closed her eyes.

“How about for you?”

“Sully, how could I not have seen who Jackson really was?”

“People like Jackson can hide almost anything. The only real emotion they experience is anger, but they learn early to pretend they feel a whole range.”

“Because he was spoiled as a kid?”

“I don’t know—maybe it’s in his genes. My dad ran for the city council back before I was born, and Pinckney told him if he wanted the job, he’d have to do everything he was told. When he refused, Pinckney had the sheriff drum up a couple of traffic charges, then he had the newspaper put the story on the front page. They insinuated he’d been driving and drinking, and he lost the election. My mother told me the whole story.”

“The same sheriff’s department you work for?”

“Different sheriff. Sheriff Carter is no fan of Pinckney’s.”

“Sheriff Carter sent me to prison.”

“Jackson set that up well. I think the clerk at the store was in on it, too.”

She had wondered about that. The young man had been so quick to call the sheriff and point the finger of accusation straight at her. “The stuff his father did to your father? Is that why you dislike him?”

Sully was quiet so long she wondered if he was going to answer.

“Do you remember saying that Jackson mentioned a woman named Nan Tyler who died? That first night he came here to scare you?”

She remembered everything he had said that night. “In a car accident. He pretended he was pointing out how many people our age were dying, so I would be careful. He made it sound like she was no stranger.”

“I’m sorry, but when he wasn’t sleeping with you, he was sleeping with her.”

She couldn’t believe she had ever been so stupid. She had bought every story Jackson told her because she had been so honored to be his girlfriend.

“What about her?” she asked, trying to move past humiliation to the connection Sully seemed to be making.

“We dated in high school. It was pretty serious, then I went off to college, and she married Reb Tyler, another classmate. They got divorced two years ago. We started seeing each other again, then suddenly she broke it off. Turns out she’d fallen for Jackson. Nan always was a sucker for flashy guys.”

Sully wasn’t flashy, but that was one of the things Cristy liked best about him. He didn’t attempt to charm. He didn’t pride himself on saying the right things. He was filled with integrity. Along with all that was a quiet strength that she increasingly found attractive.

Sully was a man a woman could count on.

“Did you love her?” she asked, even though it really wasn’t her business.

“I loved her, but I wasn’t
in
love with her.”

She understood the difference. “Between you and Jackson? Nan made a terrible choice.”

He smiled a little, but it ended quickly. “The accident was a hit-and-run. Not one lead has turned up. We think the crash occurred during a storm two nights before she was found, so a lot of evidence washed away. But when we finally got there, the scene still looked staged to me.”

“Staged?”

“Planned, executed, cleaned up. Even the timing. What better opportunity than a thunderstorm to appear out of nowhere, force someone’s car over an incline and down a hillside? The car pleated like an accordion against a wall of boulders, and we think she died quickly. A full day went by before someone saw the car and reported it.”

Cristy thought of her own trip up and down Doggett Mountain, with its hairpin curves, its steep drops, its narrow, empty lanes. She shuddered. “I’m so sorry, but if you can’t find any evidence, how can you connect it to Jackson? Why would he want her dead?”

“Nan called the day before she was killed. She said she had something to tell me, something I needed to know, but she wanted to tell me in person. I was on my way to my sister’s house in Tennessee, so I told her I would call as soon as I got back. I didn’t think much about it because Nan had a dramatic side. She’d been having problems with her landlord, and I figured she probably wanted somebody in a uniform to talk to him. She knew it was best to ask me in person.”

Cristy followed the story to its logical conclusion. “You think Jackson was responsible? Because she wanted to tell you something he didn’t want you to know?”

Sully got up to check on Beau, who was snoring lightly now, which seemed like a good sign. She was glad she could hear him breathing.

“There’s more,” he said when he joined her again. “Do you recall me asking you whether Jackson ever discussed Pinckney Motors with you?”

She remembered, because they had been driving to Berdine and Wayne’s house, and she had been glad to think about something other than seeing Michael.

“You had something in mind, didn’t you?”

“Do you know what a chop shop is?”

“A place to buy pork chops?” She waited a beat. “Of
course
I know what it is. I watch television. Stolen cars get broken down and sold for parts.”

“Old cars are worth maybe four times more that way.”

She whistled softly. Beau’s ears snapped forward, but he snoozed on.

“Older cars are easier to steal and chop than newer ones,” Sully said. “And their parts are in demand, since older cars need more repairs. Unfortunately for car thieves newer cars come with more security measures, but a really good operation can bypass them. These days most car keys contain something called an RF transmitter, which has to match the computer in the engine of a particular car. One of the things a top-notch thief can do is find a dealer to cut a new key with the right RF transmitter, using a car’s VIN number, something a reputable dealer will only do when they have all the documentation of actual ownership. But, of course, if a car thief happens to own a car dealership, or be the son of someone who does...”

“You think that’s what Jackson’s doing?”

“I think Jackson, Kenny and Duke were in business with an outfit in Atlanta. The thieves probably located late-model luxury cars that parked on the same streets or in the same city garages every day, sent Jackson the VIN numbers—which are easy to find—got the keys he made, switched out plates with cars from Pinckney Motors and drove them up to Yancey County. Jackson stored the cars in a barn on one of those properties he was managing for his father. If he couldn’t sell them in one piece, Kenny and Duke chopped them, then Jackson shipped the parts overseas, cleaned up the mess and used a different location the next time so that nobody got suspicious. All those visits to his father’s properties Jackson told you about? I think he was conducting business. And within limits, who would think twice about cars being stored on Pinckney Ford’s property? He owns a used-car lot and a GM dealership.”

“You have proof?”

“Not enough, not yet. But it’s coming together.”

“Does Sheriff Carter know?”

Sully grimaced. “So far I’ve done it all on my own. Like I said before, he’s no fan of Ford’s, but he’s not stupid, either. Pinckney’s health hasn’t been the greatest, and between us, I think the sheriff hopes he’ll just up and die, so he doesn’t have to worry about him anymore. In the meantime he would need some serious evidence to start an investigation that risky. I’m lining up whatever I can before I go to him.”

She finally understood something that had bothered her. “That’s the real reason you were watching Jackson. That first night he came here, I mean. I’ve wondered how you could justify following him so closely just to protect me when you didn’t even know if I needed it.”

“I’d been watching him for months, so I knew his habits, and that helped. But that night I was watching him because your sister told me you’d been released.”

“Kenny and Duke were in business with him? Both of them?” She considered. “That’s why you pointed out how well Kenny seemed to be living even though he had no
real
job.”

“And you told me he had simple tastes.”

As much as she wanted to protest, she could envision the scenario Sully had outlined. She liked Kenny, but he lived by his own moral code. If the cars being chopped belonged to wealthy people, Kenny might see himself as some sort of Robin Hood. And the insurance companies who had to pay the owners? In Kenny’s world, insurance companies were a plague on the little guy, and not worthy of protection. Kenny would repair a neighbor’s roof or car for free, ply them with game or trout from his favorite stream if they needed food, even sit up with them all night if they were sick and needed attention.

But dismantling a stolen Mercedes or BMW and sticking the cost to Allstate or Geico? That was a different thing altogether.

“They sure had the skills,” she said. “Between them, Duke and Kenny could take a car apart in record time. And love every minute of it.”

“You
never
heard anything about this?”

“For better or worse, I’m a minister’s daughter. Jackson knew better than to even
hint
something like that was going on.”

“And none of the money Jackson flashed around seemed out of place?”

“He got anything he wanted from his parents, Sully, and besides, he had a job. He was working for his father.”

He was silent for a long moment; then he turned. The flickering light of the fire emphasized the strong lines of his jaw and the jut of his cheekbones.

“Is it possible he thought you knew more than you did? That having you arrested was a way to keep you quiet? Because who would believe anything you said after you’d been hauled off to jail for stealing?”

He was close to the truth, but still veering in the wrong direction. And despite wanting to, she couldn’t tell him the real reason Jackson had made certain she went to prison. There was too much at stake.

But how could she
not
tell him?

She felt the way she had when she’d found Beau in the woods tonight, angry and afraid and revolted at how easily Jackson could wound another living thing.

“No,” she said carefully, trying to keep her voice even. “Jackson didn’t want to marry me, and he didn’t want to acknowledge the baby. That’s why he swept the ring into my shopping bag. He knew when I figured out what he’d done, I wouldn’t name him as the father because I wouldn’t want him in Michael’s life.”

“There were easier ways to get around that.”

“But none of them were as much fun or as dependable as sending me to prison.”

They fell silent, and he finished his sandwich and cocoa.

“I’m sorry,” he said, when he was done. “You’ve traveled a rough road.”

“Not as rough as the road where poor Nan Tyler ended up. You really do think Jackson was responsible for her death, don’t you?”

“It’s likely Nan knew something she shouldn’t have, and Jackson found out she planned to tell me. The car that ran her off the road could be hidden in one of those barns. But I can’t get a warrant to search for it without real evidence.”

“With both Kenny and Duke gone, it would be harder for him to dispose of a car.” She thought a moment. “And with both of them out of the picture, maybe the chop shop’s old news, anyway. Jackson would never get his hands dirty, that’s for sure.”

“He’s got access to plenty of mechanics through his father, and he has money to pay them. They’ve got a couple of new guys at Pinckney Motors who may not be in this country legally. He could be holding that over their heads. Or he could be blackmailing some of the good old boys.”

“You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”

“It’s all I think about.” He smiled a little and their gazes locked. “Almost.” He caressed the last word. “Lately I’ve begun to think about...other things.”

She was surprised, because Sully had never spoken of a growing attraction to her. Yet how could she be surprised when her own thoughts tonight had centered on how many things she liked about him?

“Don’t think about me,” she said, refusing to be coy and pretending to misunderstand. “Sully, I’m a losing proposition. I have a psychopath stalking me, a baby living with my cousin, an education that’s only beginning to get off the ground and a felony conviction. You should run screaming in the other direction.”