Truth and Consequences (12 page)

Kathleen leaned against her shovel and wiped her wrist across her gritty forehead. Heat still rose from the ashes, but she and her father moved through the wreckage with care, seeking anything not destroyed by the flames. They’d found precious little other than his fireproof safe.

She rolled aching shoulders and stared at the thick layers of gray and black ash. Was it really worth it? Worth the destruction and threats? The constant worry? Would it be better to simply back down, let the case die the way so many others involving Haynes County had? She nudged a wire coil with the toe of her heavy boot.

Two mothers had buried their sons this week. Her answer lay in that. She couldn’t turn her back and walk away. If nothing else, those mothers deserved a sense of justice. To see the person who’d taken their children put into the deepest, darkest hole the state of Georgia could find.

Her job was to make sure Tom could put that person there.

And if more than one person was responsible, so be it.

Even if that other person was Jason Harding.

Or Tick Calvert.

All morning, turning over layer after layer of soot, ash and debris, she’d turned over layer after layer of knowledge in her mind.

Jason and Jim Ed the first to arrive on scene.

Tick arriving moments later.

Neither Jason nor Tick seeing anything. Tick refusing to back up Jason’s story, but not tearing it down either.

Jason with a pocketful of money.

A background making him perfect for the seduction of money and power.

Tick’s squeaky-clean reputation.

The two of them together that morning, carrying on a conversation that seemed more than idle chitchat or a chance meeting.

None of it came together into a cohesive picture. Instead, she was left with something like an out-of-focus movie—a blurred, moving image that wouldn’t stay still long enough for her to get a grasp of what she was seeing. Fuzzy phantasms, letting her mind play tricks, letting her see only what she wished to see.

Like a way to remove Jason from suspicion.

Right back where she started—wanting him, wanting to believe he was something other than what he was.

Surrounded by the results of his treachery and she still wanted to believe in him.

“You about had enough, baby girl?” Her daddy’s weary voice brought tears pricking at her eyelids.

Enough? He had no idea.

She brushed her bangs, sticky with sweat, away from her face and looked down at the ashes so she wouldn’t have to see the pain and defeat in his strong face. “I’m so sorry, Daddy.”

“What for?” His arm came around her shoulder, a warm, comforting weight. He pulled her tight against him for a moment, and smoke, stale sweat and Old Spice filled her nose.

“This.” She gestured at the mess. “Oh, Daddy, you know this is because of me.”

He hugged her tighter. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Irritated, she tugged away, feeling instantly bereft. “What are you talking about?”

“Sometimes we suffer for our principles, Kathleen. And sometimes others suffer in our place. If you’re sticking to the values your mother and I tried to impart, how can we complain if they come home to roost?”

“They burned down your home! Because of me. How can you—”

“And they took Lamar Calvert’s life and left Lenora to raise those five children alone. They’ve taken and beaten and destroyed for years, and as hard as Lamar and Virgil and I…and countless others…tried, we couldn’t make a dent. You and Altee have got Jim Ed Reese running scared enough that he’d do this.” His face hard, he waved a hand at the partial remains of the fireplace. “Kathleen Elizabeth, your mama and I are so damned proud of you we can hardly stand it.”

“You pick some mighty strange things to be proud of.”

He chuckled and wrapped her in a quick, tight hug. “Go home. Get clean and dolled up for tonight.”

Tonight? The Sheriff’s Association dinner. One of the biggest political functions of the year. She groaned. “Oh, Daddy. I really just want to go home and stay there.”

She’d take a shower and pull out the box hidden in the top of her closet, unpack the photos of Everett, hold his tiny clothes and pretend she could still smell his precious baby scent, feel the incredible softness of his knees and the backs of his hands.

She sighed. “And it would be good for you and Mama to get some rest, too.”

“I won’t run, Kathy. Elizabeth and I will be there, and I expect to see your pretty face as well.” He smiled and chucked her chin. “Besides, if you don’t show up, who will Tick dance with?”

“Any blonde in the room who’s under twenty-five and not the brightest bulb in the socket.” Feeling like a dog being led to the veterinarian’s office, she allowed him to push her toward her Wagoneer.

He chuckled. “Go on. We’ll see you tonight.”

She slid behind the wheel and gave him a wobbly smile. Okay, she could do this. She could put on a dress and heels and make her daddy proud. Even if it was the one day a year she allowed herself to give in to the never-ending sense of grief and loss. Even if Thatcher and Jim Ed showed up to gloat. She could handle them.

If Jason showed up? Now that could be a problem. She wasn’t ready to handle him.

Altee leaned forward, adjusting her breasts into the cups of a pale pink strapless bra. “You saw him with
who
?”

“Tick.” Kathleen twisted sideways, studying her reflection in the mirror. The lavender silk clung to curves she’d forgotten she had and the low back dipped to show off the dimple at the base of her spine. Behind her, dresses in a rainbow of colors spilled off the bed. “This thing is indecent. You didn’t really wear it to your cousin’s wedding.”

“I wore it
in
Layla’s wedding. Thought the church roof was gonna fall in on us, too.” Altee eased an ivory slip dress over her head, the beaded detail shimmering with each movement. “It looks good on you. Better than it did on me. Are you sure it was Calvert?”

“I’m sure.” Facing the mirror again, Kathleen lifted an eyebrow at her reflection. Her bra pushed her breasts together to create a rounded cleavage that rivaled the height of Stone Mountain over Atlanta. An image invaded her brain, Jason’s mouth moving along the shadowy curve, and she closed her eyes, suppressing a strangled moan. Why couldn’t she forget him?

“Okay, that just doesn’t make sense.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Calvert, who wouldn’t spit on a Haynes County deputy if he saw one on fire, hanging out and talking with Harding? Kath, are you sure?”

Kathleen grimaced at her. “Altee, I’m sure. It was Tick. And Jason. Together.”

“Well, you have only a few scenarios to consider then. One, Calvert’s turned corrupt. Two, Harding isn’t the corrupt son of gun we think he is. Or three, that rumor Lynn Harris is doing her damnedest to spread around about Calvert being gay is true, and Harding is his new boy toy.”

“I think we can rule out Tick being gay. That’s pretty much Lynn’s sour grapes because she couldn’t break his celibate streak.” Kathleen glanced back at the mirror. Excited color flickered across her cheekbones. Hearing Altee voice the possibility she’d refused to consider made it seem more real. The intensity with which she wanted it to be real terrified her.

“And if Mr. Fidelity, Bravery and Integrity has gone bad, then I’m turning white.” Altee perched on the foot of the bed to slide on impossibly spiked heels. “So I think we can safely consider the possibility that your boy isn’t who he appears to be.”

I can’t help you, Kathleen.
His tortured words returned to her. “He said he couldn’t help me. Not that he wouldn’t. He said
can’t
. His agenda could be separate, but parallel to ours.”

“So maybe you were right and he’s not involved. Maybe he’s a knight in shining armor the Bureau’s OCD sent down here. It makes a weird kind of sense. You’d have to have someone local, someone with close ties, to get in there.” Altee’s voice turned wry. “Of course, we also have to consider the possibility that he’s exactly who he appears to be. It’s not like you can just walk up and ask him.”

“It’s not like we can just ask Tick either.”

“Why not?”

“Because. He’ll lie.”

“Oh, sure. We’re talking about the boy who takes his mama to church
every
Sunday.”

“We’re talking about the boy who worked in the FBI’s Organized Crime Division for ten years, including a couple of undercover operations. Trust me. He’ll lie.”

Kathleen picked up a shoebox and removed a pair of strappy, rhinestone-dotted high heels from a protective layer of tissue. She leaned over to fasten them onto her feet, the flirty hem of the dress brushing her skin like a phantom lover’s fingers.

“Kath?”

She smoothed the strap into place above her ankle and lifted her head. “What?”

“What if we didn’t ask him?”

“Meaning?”

“What if we fudge a little? Use Calvert’s background against him.”

Kathleen laughed, intrigued. “Just spell it out, Altee.”

“He’s still a Fed at heart, even if he is wearing a six-pointed star now. What’s the one thing a Fibbie hates most?”

“Having his territory threatened.”

“So let’s threaten it a little. Tell him we’re working an undercover angle, about to get someone inside Haynes County. If we’re right and Harding is a Fed, you can bet we’ll be in some high-ranking Fed’s office within the week. They won’t let us intrude on their investigation, if that’s what’s really going on.”

“Exactly.” Kathleen laughed. “Lord, you’re devious. I like the way you think.”

“Think it’ll work?”

“Oh, hell. As crazy as this idea is, it just might.”

“C’mon.” Altee grinned and reached for her purse and gauzy shawl. “Let’s go stir up some trouble.”

Music and laughter blended with the scents of a warm Georgia evening drifting in through the open French doors. Seated at a large round table in a corner, Jason counted heads and figured the estimated donation the Sheriff’s Association would make to the local women’s crisis center. Once circumstances and the Federal Bureau of Investigation allowed him to have his real life back, he’d send them a check, too.

People packed the historic Radium Springs Casino’s ballroom—cops, their wives and girlfriends, local politicians, single women looking to be the wife or girlfriend of a cop or local politician. Conversation swirled around the tables decked with white cloths, floating candles and fresh flowers.

Earlier, he’d been surprised when Tori Calvert delivered the evening’s opening remarks. She couldn’t be more than twenty-four or twenty-five, too young to be the director of the women’s center. Muttering beneath his breath, Jim Ed had refused to join in the wild applause that greeted her.

Calvert was here, too, sharing a table with his sister, the sheriff of Chandler County and several others, including Altee and Kathleen. Jason struggled to keep his gaze from straying to her. He’d thought she was beautiful in her GBI polo and khakis or the casual denim and blouse outfit. Tonight, wearing a walking fantasy of a lavender dress, she blew his mind.

She laughed at some remark of Calvert’s and leaned closer to reply, her hand on his arm. Jason’s chest tightened. He had
never
made her laugh. She’d smiled once or twice during the dinner they’d shared, but he’d never heard her real laugh, the one Calvert coaxed forth with such ease. Damn it, he wasn’t even near enough now to hear it.

“Close your trap. You’ll catch flies.” Returning to the table, Jim Ed slapped him on the back. Stacy stood a few tables away, talking with animated gestures to the women seated with a few of Haynes County’s finest. The slim red dress she wore highlighted a too-thin figure. Jim Ed slumped into a chair and shot a malevolent glare at Calvert’s table. “Looks like Calvert’s moved in on your woman.”

Jason aligned his remaining silverware to military precision. “They’re sitting together. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“His hand’s under the table. Bet that doesn’t mean anything, either.” Jim Ed nudged him in the ribs, hard, then stretched an arm along the back of Stacy’s vacant chair. “Did you get that far?”

Anger burned an acidic trail down his throat and into his gut. He gritted his teeth, molars grinding until his jaw ached. “She thinks I started that damn fire. How far do you think I got?”

“Forget her. You’ve got better things waiting for you.”

“Like what?” Anticipation made a dent in the anger and he darted a look at his cousin.

“Sheriff’s got some situations he needs handled. Light work, mostly. Thought you could help out with that. Kinda supplement your income, you know?”

“Yeah. Sounds good.”

“We thought you might appreciate it.”

“So what—”

“We’ll talk later.”

Stacy approached the table and Jim Ed straightened. A wide smile lit her face and she laughed, tugging at his hand. “Come on, honey, and dance with me.”

“Baby, I’m about danced out. Maybe later.”

Her full mouth made a pretty little moue. “Then I’ll dance with Jason.”

He tensed, but Jim Ed chuckled and nudged him again. “Go dance with her, cousin. Keep her off my back for a while.”

Faking a smile, Jason pushed back his chair and took Stacy’s outstretched hand. He really didn’t want to do this—the only woman he wanted in his arms hadn’t looked his way all night.

The band covered an old Patsy Cline number and Stacy went into his arms easily, her hand small and fragile in his. She tipped her head back to look up at him, her smile brittle and too bright. “I’m so glad you came home, Jason. Jim Ed is thrilled to have you here. Ever since Billy…well, he’s missed having family, you know? And he’s crazy about you, always talking about stuff you did together as boys.”

“I appreciate him helping me get on with the department.” Jason moved her around the floor and refused to look over her shoulder at Kathleen.

“He really needs somebody he can trust.” She glanced down, blinking, black lashes brushing her cheeks. Her chin trembled. “I worry about him.”

He couldn’t handle this. He’d spent weeks letting the profiler from the Bureau’s Behavioral Science Unit get inside his head, prepare him to betray his cousin. The facts had been black and white at the time—if Jim Ed was breaking the law, he had to pay the consequences.

The gray area was turning out to be Jim Ed’s family.

If Jim Ed gave a damn about them, he wouldn’t be doing what he’s doing. Remember Kathleen.

That wasn’t hard. His mind continued to dredge up the memory of her angry words and hatred-filled eyes.
I hate you.

A flash of lavender caught his attention and he watched Kathleen walk out into the stairwell. The urge to follow her was a physical ache.

“Hey.” Stacy patted his cheek. The emotional distress had disappeared from her heart-shaped face, the pretty mask back in place. “Earth to Jason. Where’d you go?”

He grimaced. “Sorry. I was thinking.”

“My friend Mandy wants to meet you. I’ll introduce y’all later. She’s real cute. She works over at the poultry plant.”

He let her prattle on, his gaze sweeping over their table. Jim Ed’s chair sat empty. A chill gripped the base of his spine.

He scanned the room. No Jim Ed. The ice spread into his gut.

Kathleen wasn’t in the room.

And neither was Jim Ed.