Tin God (28 page)

Jaymee slid forward, brandishing her weapon.

Her brother didn’t move.

Then she saw the blood trickling from his open mouth. His eyes were open. Frozen in shock. Like Rebecca.

No
.

She reached Darren and laid her left hand on his chest. He wasn’t breathing. The duffle bag. His head had landed on the blue bag and was propped up at an odd angle, like he was using it for a pillow.

She touched his neck. No pulse.

Trance-like, Jaymee reached for the duffle bag. There was something hard and bulky inside.

Realization blanketed her in a smothering cocoon. Tears dripped from her leaking eyes. She unzipped the duffle bag enough to see inside.

Crystal’s old typewriter.

Jaymee crawled away from Darren’s body. She perched against the wall, and a stinging, raw scream forced its way out of her throat. Grief swallowed her whole. She cried until her throat was hoarse and her lungs burned.

Bleary-eyed, all the fight drained out of her, Jaymee sat and stared and cried some more. Her brother was dead. She’d killed him.

The keys to the van were probably in Darren’s pocket. Freedom meant rummaging through her dead brother’s clothes.

Jaymee closed her eyes. Heaviness seeped into her mind and then made its way down her arms and into her legs. She needed to cut the binding around her ankles, but her energy had been drained.

Someone shouted her name.

Her imagination. She needed to get up. Leave.

Too tired
.

She heard her name again, louder this time and just outside the door. She opened her eyes.

Blaring sunlight suddenly blinded her. She blocked it with her hands.

“Jaymee. Jaymee, it’s me. Look at me.”

Nick
.

The descending sun painted a backdrop of brilliant pink and rich orange splashed with purple. It sank over the western edge of Roselea’s historic cemetery, slowly casting the graying stones in shadow.

Jaymee sat beside Lana’s grave. She placed the bouquet of wildflowers she’d brought into the copper base at the foot of the headstone. “Your favorite. I picked them from the field down the road.”

Her bandaged hand looked ugly against the colorful blossoms, and the cut on her chest still hurt. The scrapes were superficial, but they were the least of her worries. Like a magnet, Jaymee’s attention was pulled to the opposite side of the cemetery where the Ballard family plot resided. The dirt still piled over Darren’s freshly dug grave.

He’d been killed on impact when the back of his skull struck the heavy typewriter. His death was ruled an accident and an act of self-defense. Jaymee faced no charges, but the grief she carried was penance enough.

His funeral had been two days ago, and only a few people showed up. Mary was silent, clutching her confused and crying child. With her mother by her side, Jaymee laid a white rose on his casket and told her brother she’d forgiven him.

“I love you, Darren. I’m sorry for everything.”

Paul tried to attack her at the cemetery. He spent the night in lockup and now had a restraining order against him. Sonia was moving to Biloxi to live with her sister. Jaymee intended to visit.

Her gaze lingered on Darren’s final resting place. She hated that it would be months before he had anything but a temporary marker.

A warm, strong hand caressed her shoulder, and Jaymee leaned into Nick’s embrace. He’d sat quietly behind her for several minutes, his presence enough to steady her tumultuous emotions.

“Cage texted.” Nick spoke against the shell of her ear. “Holden’s been released from the hospital. He’ll be booked in town, and then he’ll be shipped to Jackson.”

“Good.”

Whether from guilt or disappointment or humiliation, Darren’s actions had been Holden’s undoing, and he confessed to Detective Charles and the attorney general. His church and home office were raided, his accounts seized. A list of sold children–all twenty-one of them–had been turned over. Hannah’s House was helping to facilitate the heartbreaking process of contacting both birth parents and adoptive parents.

“Did you tell Cage where we were?”

“Yeah.”

“He say anything else?”

Nick’s fingers trailed down her arms. “To say hi to his sister for him.”

Cage had given them his version of his blessing at the hospital when Jaymee was treated for dehydration and shock. She’d clung to Nick, unable to let go, and Cage had nodded once. She knew it still hurt her friend, but he was trying.

Not that he had much choice. Nick hadn’t left her side since carrying her out of Holden’s cabin. He had slept on a miserable cot in the hospital and then shared his bed at Annabelle’s. They hadn’t always slept.

Nearly losing Jaymee had brought Lorelai around, and after a long talk, she’d forgiven Jaymee. She and Oren had been nearly as ever-present as Nick and Cage.

“Can I see the picture again?”

Shifting against her, Nick retrieved his new phone and handed it to Jaymee. A few taps, and a picture of a smiling seven year old with brown curls and mischievous eyes appeared. Jaymee touched her daughter’s face.

“She really does look like me.”

“She’s beautiful.”

Holden had lied about Sarah leaving the country. She was safe and sound in Oxford with her adoptive parents. He was a professor at Ole Miss and the mother a stay-at-home mom. They were devastated when the attorney general contacted them. Because of the illegal adoption, Jaymee had the right to petition for custody.

They’d emailed this picture of Sarah, and Jaymee used Nick’s account to stare at her precious daughter. She was filled with equal joy and pain every time she opened the file. Sarah looked like Jaymee, but with Holden’s bright eyes and cheeky smile. Sarah was happy.

“You can still change your mind.”

“No.” A part of Jaymee would always ache for her daughter, but being a good parent meant sacrifice, just as her own mother had sacrificed. Jaymee had taken a hellishly long road to that revelation, but she was at peace with her decision. She wouldn’t ruin her daughter’s happy life by putting her own selfish needs first. Legal adoption papers were being drawn up. “Just a few weeks and it will be final.”

“I’m proud of you.” Nick stood up, smiling down at her. In the dusky light, his dark blond hair glinted with gold streaks. He touched Lana’s headstone.

“I hope you’re at peace now.”

Jaymee uncrossed her legs and gingerly got to her feet. The ankle she’d sprained running from Darren still ached.

A dragonfly flitted past and landed on Lana’s headstone. Its delicate, translucent wings glowed, and its green body looked iridescent. Jaymee held her hand out, and the dragonfly rose in the air. It lingered for a moment before settling on the tip of her finger.

“Did you know,” she whispered, “that in almost every part of the world, the dragonfly symbolizes change in the perspective of self-realization? Change in mental and emotional maturity and in the understanding of the deeper meaning of life?”

As if satisfied, the dragonfly moved its wings, caught the faint breeze, and flew into the sunset.

Nick’s warm arm pulled her close. “Where’d you hear that?”

She smiled up at him. “From Lana. When I was a little girl. She loved dragonflies.”

His eyes misted. He cupped her face in his hands, kissed her forehead. “She did, didn’t she?”

Jaymee took his hand in her bandaged one and led them out of the cemetery–away from the past and on to a new life.

THE END

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SKELETON’S KEY

Book two in the Delta Crossroads Series.

Cage is trying to move on from Jaymee, but what he discovers in the cellar of an abandoned plantation sends him on a collision course full of secrets, lies, and love.

She’s a Damned Yankee intruding on tradition. He’s a good old southern boy with a wounded heart. A perverse killer with a twisted agenda has them in his sights, and the key to escaping him is buried in a once-majestic plantation’s secret past.

SKELETON KEY is available from
Amazon

Born in Indiana and raised in Iowa, Stacy Green earned degrees in journalism and sociology from Drake University. After a successful advertising career, Stacy became a proud stay-at-home mom to her miracle child. Now a full-time author, Stacy juggles her time between her demanding characters and supportive family. She loves reading, cooking, and the occasional gardening excursion. Stacy lives in Marion, Iowa with her husband Rob, their daughter Grace, and the family’s three obnoxious but lovable canine children.

Website:
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I thought writing the acknowledgements for my second book would be easier, but naturally I was wrong. Many thanks to Bethany Christian Services of Jackson, Mississippi for explaining their procedures and policies. Special thanks to attorney Dan Davies of Jackson for answering my numerous questions on adoption law in the state of Mississippi. Thank you to the American Adoption Congress and Family and Children’s Services of Mississippi for their guidance and references.

Many thanks to my critique partner and friend, author Catie Rhodes, who worked so hard with me on the plot of this book. Thanks as well to Kristine Kelly for putting so many hours into the quality of the book and for your faith in me.

To the online writing community I’m so lucky to be a part of: thank you for the continuing positivity and willingness to help a new author.

Finally, my family. I can’t thank my husband enough for his patience and support during my writing journey. He’s been a rock, and I’m so grateful to him. Special thanks to Mom and Dad for always believing in me, and to my daughter Grace, for being so proud of her mom.