Checkered Past (A Laurel London Mystery Book 2) (5 page)

“I knew you were going to be late.” Sharon Fasa plunked her ass in the front seat of my Belvedere. Her knuckles had a tight grasp around a long gold umbrella. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. “If you think I’m going to be giving you a tip, you can forget it. Norma Allen warned me this would start happening. She said you were never on time with her. That’s why she dropped you.”

“Norma Allen can grab her fast walker and walk her way to her appointments,” I said, putting the Old Girl in gear. Before pulling out, I asked, “Where to today?”

I wasn’t sure, but I had a feeling Sharon only used my service to have a little company. She had me take her everywhere. The dollar store, Shear Illusions, the farmer’s market, everywhere.

“I have an appointment down at the clinic.” She looked out the window. “Nothing to worry about. We better get on the stick.” She pointed forward.

“Okay,” I said.

“Shoowee.” Sharon used a piece of paper she got out of her purse to fan herself. “It's been hotter'n a goat's butt in a pepper patch.”

She was right.

“I heard on the nightly news, it’s called global warming.” I made idle chitchat.

“Global warming my ass. It’s not warm. It’s hot.” She wiped the bead of sweat off her upper lip with the neck of her shirt. “Damn hot.”

“Why do you have an umbrella then?” I asked.

“You never know with this heat and humidity.” She patted the umbrella resting against the seat next to her feet. “There might be a pop up thunder shower and I don’t like to be hot
and
wet.”

She had a point.

We made our way along the River Road and over to the clinic. Every day there was a different doctor from neighboring counties seeing patients. Walnut Grove had one resident doctor and he made house calls as needed. Walnut Grove was mostly rural with the few streets in the middle.

“That good looking private investigator came by a little bit ago.” Sharon held her purse in her lap. She had some girth to her. She wasn’t small by any means. The fresh pies and homemade breads were represented well around her body. I wasn’t anyone to judge anyone’s figure, but I knew we were going to the clinic to get her blood sugar checked.

“He did?” I asked as though I had no idea.

“Someone keeps stealing my baked goodies right out of my kitchen.” She shook her head. Like most of the older women in Walnut Grove, she wore her hair in a bun, pinned to the back of her head.

“I’m sure those goodies weren’t for you to eat.” I lifted a brow. “Since your glucose was up.”

“My what? Glucose?” She huffed. “Let me guess.” She glanced over at me. “You were a criminal. You worked at the bank until you stole money. You worked at Porty Morty’s until he fired you You drive a taxi. And now you are a doctor?”

“Sharon, I’m serious.” And I was. Since driving all the old people to and from their appointments, I had come to care about their health. “You need to take care of yourself.”

“I make everything from scratch and use those, those
…
” She snapped her fingers trying to recall what she was trying to remember. “Organic!” Sharon’s voice escalated. “Curly Dean calls them vegetables and fruits of hers organic. Anyways, I use organic stuff in there. Can’t get any healthier than that.”

“What about the extra cups of sugar you add in?” I didn’t bother looking over at her. I had tasted her pies and breads. “Organic vegetables are great if you don’t fry them.”

Everything was fried in Walnut Grove, right down to the Twinkies.

“How else you supposed to fix food?” Sharon harrumphed and tipped her chin in the opposite direction of me and stared out the window.

Two words weren’t spoken the rest of the way to the clinic. Huffs and puffs came out of her nose like a dragon, it was her way of telling me she was mad. I probably should keep my mouth shut, but I couldn’t. She was slowly killing herself and I wasn’t going to sit back and watch.

“Pick me up in an hour.” Sharon opened the door and got out. She didn’t bother looking at me or giving me the nickel tip she usually gave me. She was pissed.

Me, you, Gia. Secret place. Now! Your fancy FBI boyfriend and his buddy came to see me! Now!
A text from Derek popped up on my phone.

“Shit.” I beat my palm on the wheel.

I wanted to use my free hour to go to the library; only Jax was making his way around Walnut Grove asking all sorts of questions. No matter how much I wanted to sweep the past under the rug, Willie Ray Bowman decided to clean the damn rug and bring back the dirt not caring a bit about who he was going to hurt.

“Shit!” I screamed and pulled the pouch from underneath the front seat.

My palms were sweating. My heart pounded. Anger swelled from deep inside me; I didn’t remember the drive on River Road to get to the secret spot Derek was talking about.

The clearing was overgrown, and I followed the freshly made tire tracks and parked next to Gia’s little convertible and Derek’s old truck. The path we took many years ago and one we’d kept cut, was no longer visible. The tree with the split in the form of a W marked the path.

I got out of the Old Girl with the pouch in my grip and walked down the overgrown path. The last time I walked this path was the last time I swore I would never again come here. All because of Willie Ray. Here were we today. Same place we swore we would never go back to. All because of Willie Ray.

“You told her and didn’t warn me?” Derek asked when I emerged from the brush.

I ran my hands over my hair to get out the sticks and leaves stuck there from my ten-minute fight through the brush to our secret spot on the riverbank. The steel drum we used to start a fire was still there, only rusted and falling apart. The brush where Henrietta was found was still along the banks.

Our secret spot was an alcove along the Kentucky River. It had been our little paradise when we were kids. No one could find us. Many times we would swim, get drunk, and plan our life away.

“I asked you a question.” Derek’s voice was angry.

My gaze slid to the spot under the waterfall where I had lost my virginity to Willie Ray. Suddenly, I felt sick to my stomach. The waterfall was still dripping water.

I doubled over, holding my stomach.

“Leave her alone, Derek!” Gia rushed over and grabbed me. “It’s not her fault he broke out of jail.”

“I’m fine.” I stood up and got my composure. I wasn’t going to let that sonofabitch have the pleasure of taking away all I have fought to be. “Revenge.” I threw the pouch toward Derek.

“Really, London?” Derek always referred to me by my last name when he was pissed. “I’m a cop now.”

“We aren’t kids anymore.” Gia shrugged. “And we don’t have any loyalty to Willie. . .”

“Shh!” I put my hand out. “You vowed.”

I reminded her and pointed to the barrel.

“Willie Ray Bowman. Willie Ray Bowman!” Derek stomped around in frustration saying the words we swore years back that we would never speak again. “We are going to have to talk about Willie Ray Bowman.” Frustrated, Derek ran his hands through his hair. “Gia’s right. We aren’t kids anymore. He killed an FBI agent. He left you standing at the altar of that little chapel in Nashville. Turn him in.”

Derek’s words brought back the memories; dug up the hurt and images of what seemed to be a lifetime ago.

Willie Ray was a bad boy. Trixie had kicked him out of the orphanage so many times. He wasn’t wanted by anyone. . .anyone but me.

He was reckless. Hot. Good looking. Good in bed. Good with my body. I was head over heels in love with him.

Willie Ray made all sorts of promises to me when I was seventeen. He wanted to marry me. He even talked me into stealing a few things from K-Mart, pawn it, and hop a Greyhound bus to Nashville. He swore he would be there waiting for me. We’d get married at the little chapel. I stole and pawned so much stuff, I was able to get me a dress from the secondhand store.

Gia and Derek skipped school that day and went with me. They were going to give me and Willie a real good send-off.

Willie Ray never showed. The only person who did show was Mr. Chiconi. The school called The Cracked Egg and asked him if Gia was ill because she wasn’t at school. He and Mrs. Chiconi scoured Gia’s room. They found the bus schedule. Gia had put a big red heart around the bus we took to Nashville. Her parents hopped in the car and were relieved to see it wasn’t her standing there in the used, two sizes too big, yellowed wedding gown.

It was the only time I had ever seen Trixie drunk. She drank herself silly after the Chiconis brought me back to the orphanage. And she didn’t talk to me for a week.

When she did, all she could do was cry, asking me why I felt the need to be unruly all the time.

“Laurel!” Gia screamed bringing me out of my nightmare and into another one.

“Yeah.” I shook my head. “Sorry. It’s all hard to wrap my head around.”

“Did you forget he robbed a bank the day he was supposed to be in Nashville? Then Sally Bent gave you the pictures of him with her the night before?” Derek questioned me.

“I forgot about Sally,” I whispered.

All because of Willie Ray, I had sworn off men. Sworn off being loved. Sworn off sex.

“So?” Gia swung her hip to the side. “Has he contacted you other than leaving the pouch in your car?”

“No.” I shook my head, shaking back the memories and the tears. “I know he has to be watching to see my reaction. Or if I’m willing to help him.”

“I’m a cop now,” Derek was good at reminding us of that. “And I can’t help him now.”

“Laurel?” Gia’s brows lifted. “Are you going to help him?”

I turned my head toward the barrel. Images of the wedding dress going up in flames ran around like circles in my head. Gia, Derek, and I had snuck back out here one last time after Willie’s arrest.

I had put together a little ritual. I had made voo-doo dolls out of scrap clothing and twigs to resemble Willie Ray. The dolls along with anything Willie ever gave me were dumped into the big barrel. I made Gia and Derek swear they would never speak of Willie’s name again.

Never.

And they hadn’t.

Until today.

“Are you kidding me?” Oh. Yeah. I wanted to see Willie Ray. I wanted to give him a piece of my mind. “I want that rat bastard to burn in hell for what he did to me.”

The saying held true. There was nothing like a woman scorned. Not only did he leave me at the altar. He left my bed the night before and climbed right into bed with Sally Bent. That bitch.

I bet he had given her a calling card like he did me. And when she saw me today, she wanted me to know. But why? Had she seen him?

My phone buzzed. An hour had passed and I was late in picking up Sharon Fasa from her appointment.

“I have to go.” I sucked in a deep breath. “If he happens to drop by to see either of you, don’t tell Jax. Tell me.”

“I’m going to tell the authorities.” Derek was being all high and mighty cop.

“You do that.” I rolled my eyes. “Besides, he won’t come to you. He never trusted you.”

That was the truth. Willie Ray and Derek tolerated each other only because of me. Willie Ray claimed Derek wanted in my pants and Derek claimed Willie Ray was going to break my heart.

Derek was right. Derek was always right.

Chapter Six

I parked the car exactly where I had dropped Sharon off at the clinic and waited. It was too hot for her to wait outside and she was too slow for me to keep my foot on the brake.

I noticed Jax Jackson’s big ole Buick parked in the visitor’s section. He and Eric were sitting inside the car, looking as though they were having a conversation. Jax didn’t notice me, but Eric did. He got out of the car and walked toward me.

Casually and without looking down, I dragged the pouch to the edge of the front seat and let it drop on the floor. I used my foot to slide it closer to me and used my heel to work it under the seat.

I was going to tell Jax about the pouch, but I wanted to see the hand Willie Ray was holding first. Something in my gut told me I was going to get a visit from him anytime now. I wanted revenge. And not the kind of revenge going back to prison was going to give him.

“Where have you been?” Eric asked when he strolled over to my open window. Jax walked over.

“Working.” I glared at him.

“In the mud?” He pointed to my tires. “I don’t recall you having mud on your tires earlier.”

Jax’s eyes lowered and he glanced back up at me.

“I take clients all over the place.” I laughed. “Besides, are you accusing me of something?”

“No.” His lips thinned into a flat line and dipped down. His brown eyes narrowed. “Just making an observation.”

“What are you doing at the clinic?” I asked, throwing questions back at him. “Are you sick?”

“Checking to make sure there haven’t been any walk-ins with injuries that needed to be treated.” Eric didn’t take his eyes off me. “When someone is shot, or say, grazed with a bullet, they should be treated. And our little friend, Willie Ray Bowman, was shot at several times on his way out of the prison during his escape.” He whipped out his phone. His finger swiped the screen several times. The blood he was referring to looked like small oil spills on dark pavement. “Here are some pictures of the blood he lost.”

“Maybe he’s dead.” The thought stung me. Willie Ray dead? Not possible.

My chest heaved up and down at the thought. Why did I care so much? I hadn’t let myself think about him since the day I burned all of his crap and my memories went up in smoke.

“Dogs even tried to find him, but the trail went cold.” He snapped the phone away from me and put it back in his pocket. “Seems like someone picked him up on the road next to the prison.”

“Whoohooo!” Sharon Fasa toodled from the sliding doors of the clinic. “Over here, Laurel!” She waved her umbrella in the air.

I’ve never seen Sharon move so fast in my life. She looked like she was at batting practice waving that thing all around.

“Where in the Sam Hill have you been? Officer,” Sharon Fasa nodded toward Eric before she got into the front seat of the car with a big white paper bag in her grasp. “I told you one hour, Laurel London. One hour.” She slammed the door and twisted around until she was sitting comfortably facing front. The bag rested on the seat between us.