'Til Death (A Rebel Ridge Novel) (18 page)

* * *

It had taken Linc an entire afternoon of chopping wood
to get past the rage he’d brought home. The day had been cold but clear. The
sound of his chainsaw and the thump of his hammer against the splitting wedge
had echoed on the mountain as the pile of lumber continued to grow.

Life and experience had made him a good judge of other men’s
character, and the longer he thought about it, the more convinced he became that
Wes Duggan’s testimony had been what someone else told him to say, not something
he knew for a fact.

According to Aunt Tildy, Dad already believed Lucy was
cheating, which explained the distance he’d felt between them in the months
prior to his father’s murder. Even if Wes and Lucy had been screwing around, it
wouldn’t have been worth a fight to the death for his father. And there was the
irrefutable fact that Lucy’s alibi was rock solid, so she definitely wasn’t the
murderer.

Her brothers wouldn’t have cared who she fucked. He was missing
something. He just couldn’t figure out what.

He quit just before dark, hauled what he’d cut to the house and
stacked it up near the door, then carried a couple of logs inside. It didn’t
take long to stir up the coals and add some more wood to feed the fire. His
belly was growling as he washed up, a reminder that he hadn’t eaten since
breakfast. He took out the pork chops and the extra baked potato Meg had given
him, and put them in the microwave to heat.

The thought of Meg made him lonely. It was too late to go
calling, but he could at least hear her voice. He sat down in his recliner and
kicked back to make the call. The wood he’d just put in the stove was beginning
to catch fire, popping like popcorn inside the iron belly as the flames took
hold.

The aroma of the heating pork chops and the warmth gave the
place a homey feel. He waited as Meg’s phone began to ring, and just when he
thought it was going to go to voice mail she answered, sounding slightly out of
breath and laughing. He stifled a groan, remembering all the times they’d spent
together laughing and playing at being grown-ups.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Meg, it’s me. Are you okay?”

“Lincoln! Hi! Yes, I’m fine. I was in the shower. When I sat
down on the side of the bed to answer the phone, Honey licked my toes. It made
me laugh.”

The thought of her wet and naked did nothing for his peace of
mind. “I remember that you were ticklish, but I am not going to ask you what
you’re wearing.”

She laughed as she pulled the towel a little closer around her
body.

“I’ve been busy today, packing up quilts and digging out my
price tags and decorations for the show in Lexington.”

“You mentioned something about it the other day. Is it a big
one?”

“Yes. I’ve participated every year for the past ten years.”

“When do you leave?”

“Thursday morning. I already have a reservation in a motel near
the show, and I need to head to the fairgrounds before daylight on Friday to set
up. The show opens at nine in the morning and runs through ’til three o’clock on
Sunday afternoon. I normally make at least half my yearly income at that
show.”

He liked hearing about this aspect of her life and realized
that she must have quite a presence in her field to be so successful.

“That sounds like quite a big deal,” he said.

“It is for me. So what have you been doing today?”

He sighed. “Stepping in shit.”

“What?”

“Sorry, but that’s what it felt like.”

She could hear the dejection in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

“I saw Wes Duggan today. I went to the dealership and
confronted him about lying at the trial.”

Suddenly Meg felt anxious. He’d thrown down the gauntlet in a
very public way.

“Oh, Linc, that’s a little scary. Now it’s all out in the open.
What did he say?”

“It’s weird. I expected him to deny it, but the strange thing
is that I think he actually believes he told the truth.”

“What do you mean?”

Linc shoved a hand through his hair. The microwave dinged, but
he ignored it.

“I got the impression that he had just repeated something he’d
been told to say and passed it off as his own observation. When it’s gossip, you
can always choose to ignore it, you know? But testimony is supposed to be a true
fact, and he swore on a Bible that it was.”

“I do remember people saying at the time that they were all
surprised by his claim, because none of them had ever witnessed any
disagreements between you and your dad. But Wesley Duggan and your dad were best
friends, so that’s why they took it to heart...thinking he would know the truth
if anyone would.”

“Exactly, but it’s also what crucified me—and it was a lie,”
Linc said. “However, I did hit a nerve—a big nerve—when I accused him of
betraying his best friend by sleeping with his wife. I thought he was going to
have a stroke. That’s when he ordered me out of the office. But I said what I
went to say. When I left, I went by their house to ask Lucy the same set of
questions.”

Meg groaned. The Whites were not a family to piss off, and the
thought that he’d done that scared her. She already knew what Prince was capable
of, and Fagan wasn’t much better. She’d heard all about how Wes and Lucy had
moved up in the world when they’d moved away from Rebel Ridge. Threatening Lucy
to the point of making her think she might lose all that was like teasing a mean
dog. Lord only knew what kind of havoc she could bring.

“You did not! Oh, Linc, there’s no telling what she’s capable
of doing. What did she say?”

“Had herself a screaming fit and told me to get out of her
house, but that was after I asked her why she lied about me and who was she
protecting when she did it. That’s when she lost
her
cool.”

“I’m so sorry,” Meg said.

“Yeah, and I’d guess right about now so are they.”

She frowned. “If she did have anything to do with it, you do
know that you’ve just painted a very big target on your back?”

“Yes, I know, but I’m a very big man. I can take the flak, as
long as I get the answers I need.”

“Are you okay?”

He sighed. “Yes, I’m okay. It takes a lot more than cursing and
shouting to rattle me. So what are you doing tomorrow?”

“I’m skipping church. I have too many things to finish up
before the trade show, and I need to do some baking later in the week to take to
Mom and Jake’s on Wednesday. Don’t forget, you’re with me that day.”

“It sounds to me like you’ll need to be more than half-packed
for your quilt show by then. How about if I pick you up and we go in my truck
instead?”

“That would be great!”

Just listening to the happiness in her voice made
him
happy, and thinking about spending the day with
her was even better. Even if her family got weird about him being there, he
wasn’t going to let it bother him.

“Ah, Meg...you are good for my soul. Thanks for talking me down
from my bad mood.”

She shivered and closed her eyes as his soft, husky voice
wrapped around her, and wished it was his arms instead.

“I’m glad you called,” she said. “Have a good dinner with Aunt
Tildy tomorrow, and tell her I said hello.”

“I will. I was wondering, would you mind if I stopped by
tomorrow afternoon? I have a hankering to look at your sweet face.”

“I would not mind at all,” she said.

“Great. See you then.”

Meg heard the click as he disconnected and reluctantly hung up
the phone. She was still smiling as she bent down and gave Honey’s ear a quick
scratch.

“Hey, sweet baby...that was Lincoln. Talking to him makes me
happy. You make me happy. Right now I’m just a happy fool. I’ll bet you wanna go
out.”

Honey licked Meg’s fingers.

“Then let me get my robe. You take a run around the yard while
I tend to my sudden urge for something hot and sweet. Since Lincoln is out of
reach, I’ll have to settle for hot chocolate.”

* * *

When Linc stepped out of the house on Sunday morning to
get some more wood, he paused, struck by the clear beauty of the day. The air
was Popsicle cold, the early sun so bright it turned the look of the frosty
grass into shards of white ice. The far-off screech of a hawk circling overhead
broke the pristine silence and sent the rabbit hiding behind his woodpile into a
panicked dash to safety. Linc inhaled deeply and, as he exhaled, the warmth of
his breath formed a cloud in front of his face. It was moments like this that
reminded him why it was a gift to have been born on this mountain.

After a pause for silent adulation of the glorious morning, he
picked up an armful of firewood and went back inside, kicking the door shut
behind him. The aroma of fresh coffee brewing mingled with the scent of burning
cedar as he popped a couple more sticks into the stove.

Today was the day he took Tildy to Sunday dinner at Frankie’s
Eats. He was looking forward to treating her, and at the same time he was afraid
the whole experience might be a disaster. It actually depended on the diners’
reactions to his appearance as to whether it would be a memorable meal or a hot
mess. But no matter what happened, he had no doubt Tildy Bennett could handle
the situation.

Since he was counting on a big dinner, he went small with
breakfast and only made himself one peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He ate as
he logged on to his laptop, checking emails for updates from his crews back in
Dallas. For a change there were no pressing problems to be solved. Quite the
opposite. He read with pleasure an email from Gerald informing him that they
were going to come in under deadline by about two weeks and get the
twenty-five-thousand-dollar bonus that had been built into the contract.

He sent back a “way to go” message with a couple of exclamation
points for good measure, then got up to pour himself a cup of coffee and was
doing a mental rundown of what to do next in his investigation when he
remembered Tildy telling him about the Whites coming into extra money before the
fire.

She had mentioned that they’d been about to lose their place
when the bank loan was miraculously paid off, ending the foreclosure
proceedings. As a teenager, he wouldn’t have paid any attention to that news,
but looking back now, he had to wonder how they’d come into that kind of money.
Unless they had a rich relative who had died and left them an inheritance, it
was a sure bet that it wasn’t obtained by legal means. He made a mental note to
ask her if she knew any more details. He couldn’t imagine how it might have
anything to do with his father’s murder, but he had to consider everything
connected to the people who’d been connected to him and his dad—even by
marriage.

He sat down at the laptop and sent a message to Toby, the
foreman on the other crew, then kept working, but with an eye on the clock so he
would be on time to pick up his aunt. He ran a quick check of his bank accounts,
personal and business, before logging off. All was in order, which gave him the
freedom to continue his pursuit of justice.

As the time to leave drew near he went to shave, then got out a
good shirt, his bolo tie and his favorite Western suit, cleaned his good boots
so they would be shiny and began to get dressed. The knot in his gut was still
there. In a way he felt he was getting dressed for a funeral rather than a
Sunday outing, and he knew it was because of the uncertainty of his reception.
By the time he was ready to go he was tense and defensive. He settled the
Stetson on his head and locked up.

He started up the road with the heater going full blast so it
would be warm in the cab by the time he picked up his aunt. The farther he
drove, the easier he became. As he came around a curve in the road he braked
suddenly to keep from hitting a coyote that had darted out in front of him,
running with a chicken in its mouth. The coyote leaped into the trees on the
other side of the road and disappeared.

Linc shook his head at the unexpected sight. It wasn’t common
to see that in broad daylight. Someone was now minus a good laying hen.

He reached Tildy’s house without further delay, noting as he
pulled up to her house that it was straight up eleven o’clock. Perfect
timing.

As he walked through the gate, he saw the curtain move at the
window. He smiled. She’d been watching for him. And when he got to the porch,
she opened the door before he could knock.

The woman standing in the doorway was nothing like the one who
walked the mountain in old overalls and work boots, gathering herbs and ginseng
with no care for appearance. She had taken the braid out of her hair and wound
the length on the top of her head like a silver crown. The dress she was wearing
was a long-sleeved blue shirtwaist, with a round collar trimmed in white
tatting.

“Aunt Tildy! You look beautiful!” Linc said.

“Oh, this old thing,” she said, and tried to pretend it didn’t
matter, but he saw her smile.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yes. I need to get my coat and bag, and then I’m ready.”

Linc got her coat from the back of the sofa and helped her put
it on, then leaned down and kissed her cheek. She smelled of flowers and ladies’
face powder. Another revelation about a woman who lived and breathed the healing
herbs that she gathered.

“You even smell good,” he said.

She patted his cheek. “Thank you. I haven’t heard that in a
while.”

He waited as she locked her door, offered her his arm as they
went to the truck, then helped her up into the seat.

“Nice and warm in here,” she said as he got in behind the
wheel.

“Yes, ma’am. Can’t have you freezing your little feet in those
pretty shoes you’re wearing.”

Tildy beamed. “I haven’t put on a pair of dress shoes in so
long I nearly forgot how to walk in them, but I must say, I have been looking
forward to this day.”

“Me, too, Aunt Tildy. I’m just a little anxious about our
reception. I don’t want the cold shoulder I might get to ruin your meal.”