Crossed Bones (35 page)

I'd changed locations and conversational partners, but not the topic. It was as if Jitty was directing from the wings. "What do you mean?" I asked, stumbling into the conversation I'd never expected to have with Scott.

"I've never known anyone like you, Sarah Booth."

Sweeter words could never be spoken to a woman, but something in me had changed. I didn't want declarations of permanence. I wanted only this moment. I didn't want to think about a future. I didn't even want to know what Scott might be offering. What I'd said to Jitty was true. I didn't want a family--or any of the branches of one. At least not now.

I sipped my coffee, forcing myself to look him in the eye. "Do we have to be going anywhere?"

His pale eyes grew troubled. "You're the first woman I've ever seen a future with. Don't you want to be going somewhere?" He was puzzled by my reaction, but calm.

"I'm a detective. Not a wife. Not a mother." For the first time in my life, I had a crystal-clear view of myself, and for the moment it didn't involve a spouse. I had a sudden revelation--perhaps this was the appeal of Coleman. There, yet unattainable. And, in some part, Scott too. He would move on; it was inevitable.

"Don't you ever want to marry?" he asked.

"I don't know." My lack of a matrimonial direction was just another sign of my failing as a Daddy's Girl. Every DG knew from the first moment of consciousness where she was going. She had her eye on the shoreline, with a perfect vision of what her future would be. I was just drifting.

There was a long silence. "You're involved with the sheriff, aren't you?" he asked.

"No, I'm not." The denial was quick.

"Involved may not be the right word. You have strong feelings for him, don't you?"

Scott was a perceptive man. He'd seen more than I thought. "He's married."

Scott took my hand and held it. "And you wish he weren't."

There was no point denying that. Besides, I couldn't lie to Scott. I hated a liar. "But he is. And he wants to make his marriage work," I said gently.

Scott's grip on my hand tightened. "I'm beginning to fall in love with you. It scares the hell out of me."

"That's not very flattering," I said, wanting desperately to veer from this serious path Scott had chosen. We had a long stretch of smooth water in front of us where we could glide and drift together, without commitment to any particular course. Why couldn't we simply be? "I don't have a warning label, you know."

"Maybe you should, Sarah Booth. I think you could be lethal if you chose."

He dropped my hands and looked down at the floor. "It's probably for the best. If I were lucky enough to have you love me, I'd just lose you. Everyone I've ever cared about is dead."

My heart didn't break, but it cracked a little. I knew how it felt to be left behind.

"People always think prison is bad," he continued. "Losing the people you love is much worse. That's my life sentence--whoever I love, dies."

"That's ridiculous," I said softly. "Nothing's going to happen to me." But I knew what he meant, and I knew how terrifying it was to feel that loss was first cousin to love.

"Tell me one thing, Sarah Booth, are you irrevocably in love with the sheriff?"

I picked up Scott's hand and held on to him. I could hedge the truth because my feelings for Coleman, whatever they were, would come to naught. But I owed Scott as much truth as I knew. "I don't know," I said, and it came out in a whisper. "I've been so very careful not to think about the possibility. It's wrong. Coleman is off-limits to me now and possibly forever. That's the reality. That's what I live with. How can I say if I love him when I haven't allowed myself the possibility?"

"Reality has nothing to do with emotions. All the facts in the world won't change how you feel. You just have to decide what you feel."

"Why?" I asked. "Why torture myself?"

"Because you feel what you feel, Sarah Booth, and that's important. Not naming those feelings is just a way of tricking yourself. And when you're doing that, you're--" He broke off suddenly.

I glanced toward the front door, where Sweetie Pie was moaning softly. She'd been a perfect angel all evening, begging only half a loaf of garlic bread and at least a pound of beef.

"What's the matter?" I asked her.

She gave a sharp yap and then growled deep in her throat. There was the distinct sound of footsteps running in the gravel of the drive.

"There's someone out there," I said.

Scott stood and put his napkin on the table. "I'll check."

"I'm going, too." I followed him to the door. As soon as we opened it, Sweetie Pie went flying out into the night. She didn't bother with the steps; she leaped to the ground and began to run, baying loudly.

"What the--"

Scott never got to finish. Something whizzed by my head and crashed into the front door. There was the smell of gasoline and the whoosh of flames. The explosion was like a sledgehammer in my back. Suddenly I was flying through the air. The last thing I remembered was hitting the dirt.

"Sarah Booth, you
have to wake up. I'm tired of standing here in these heels, waiting for you to do something other than drool out the side of your mouth. Open your eyes, right this minute."

I cracked an eyelid open. Tinkie's face filled my vision, and though she was slightly blurred, there was no mistaking her. "Quit nagging at me," I said.

Her answer was a loud squeal that made me squint my eyes shut.

"Open those eyes," Tinkie ordered again.

When I did, Tinkie had been joined by Cece. The two of them were hovering over me. I thought of the Harpies, but I knew better than to say anything. I was already injured. I wasn't sure how or why, but my body was screaming at me in a thousand different places.

"Where am I?" I couldn't see much of my surroundings, but I wasn't at Dahlia House. Then I remembered. I'd been at Scott's. Something awful had happened. "Where's Scott?"

"He's okay," Tinkie said, putting a gentle hand on my forehead. "He's been released, minor injuries. Coleman took him in for questioning. You're the one that has everyone worried because you wouldn't wake up. Doc wouldn't let them take you to a room. You're in the ER, where he could personally keep an eye on you. He just went to make a phone call."

I tried to turn my head to glance around, but a warning pain convinced me to take it slowly. "What happened?"

"Someone tried to kill you, dahling," Cece said. "Molotov cocktail. But cheer up. You're going to be in the paper tomorrow. Rather a ghastly picture, though. Not your best side, what with your butt up in the air. We couldn't find an angle that made it look smaller." She shrugged. "Of course, those black stack mules on the porch show you have dainty feet."

"You were blown right out of your shoes," Tinkie said.

"Front page!" Cece said.

I glared at her. "Never let injuries to a good friend stand in the way of a headline."

"They arrested Emanuel," Cece responded, knowing it would derail my tirade.

"Emanuel Keys?" I was shocked.

"No, Emanuel Gable,
Clark
's illegitimate son," Cece snapped. "Of course Emanuel Keys."

"Why?"

"Because Coleman thinks he tried to kill you and Scott," Cece said with impatience. She was acting ornery because she'd been so worried about me. It was one of her least charming traits.

Tinkie frowned at her. "She's had her brain scrambled. Don't be so snappy."

"I was asking why Emanuel was trying to kill us," I said, rather irritated myself. My body was a jangle of pain. Even my fingers hurt.

Tinkie answered this one. "Coleman caught Emanuel speeding away from Scott's house. There was another bottle of gasoline and a rag in the trunk of his car."

"Wow." I was still a little confused on the details of what had happened. One minute I'd been drinking coffee with Scott, and the next, I was flying across the front yard. "How did Coleman get there so quickly?"

Cece and Tinkie exchanged glances. It took me a couple of seconds, but I worked it out. "Coleman followed me to Scott's, didn't he?"

Instead of answering, they stepped back. Coleman stepped into view.

"Sarah Booth," he whispered, putting the backs of his fingers against my cheek. "You've scared ten years off my life. When I saw you in the yard ..." He shook his head.

"I'm okay."

"Doc said you were mighty lucky."

"Did you see Emanuel throw the Molotov cocktail?" I asked.

His smile was both sad and tender. "When you're on a case, you're on. That's a good sign. Mule-headedness is normal for you." He took a deep breath. "I didn't see Emanuel throw the bomb, but I was turning onto
Bilbo Lane
when I heard the explosion. About five minutes later, Emanuel passed me doing at least a hundred. I radioed Dewayne, and he caught him on the south side of town. Emanuel was running hard and had all the makings for another bomb in his trunk."

I wasn't surprised, but I suddenly remembered something more important than Emanuel. "Sweetie Pie! She was with me."

"She's fine," Tinkie said. "Coleman brought her to my house and she's playing with Chablis."

"Was she hurt?"

This time it was Tinkie and Coleman who exchanged glances, and I knew instantly that something wasn't right with my dog. "Was she hurt?" I asked again.

"She's fine now," Coleman said. "She got a few scrapes. She was hit by a car, but it was a glancing blow and she's fine."

I started to get up, but a sudden pain shot through my midriff. "Boll weevil!" I gasped. "How badly am I hurt?" I asked Coleman because he would tell me the truth.

"You're bunged up pretty good, but nothing fatal. Bruised ribs, lost a good bit of hide from your left arm, singed off a lot of your hair."

I thought of all the gel and hair spray I'd loaded into my hair. It was a wonder I hadn't gone up like a human torch.

"Can I leave?"

"As soon as Doc releases you," Tinkie said, "I'll take you home."

"Why would Emanuel do this?" I asked.

"I think he was trying to kill Scott. That would solve a lot of problems for him. With Scott charged with Ivory's murder, there's the possibility that the case would be closed without further investigation."

I knew Coleman well enough to know that that would be only Emanuel's fantasy. "I suppose I was just an innocent bystander?"

"I don't think there's any love lost on you from Emanuel's point of view," Coleman said. "Two for the price of one."

"Did he admit that he did it?"

"Hell, no, he's proclaiming his innocence." He leaned down closer, but not before I saw the grin on his face. "And he's asking to see you."

I didn't bother to hide my surprise. "Me? Why?"

"He says he wants to hire you."

Emanuel was holding
on to the bars of his cell when I entered the jail, walking very slowly and carefully. Part of my caution was my battered body, but most of it came from the fact that I was wearing a pair of Tinkie's slacks. Any rash movement might split a seam. Tinkie had deliberately chosen the pale pink silk slacks that were capris on my taller frame. She'd known they would hug my butt like Saran Wrap. It was her method of showing disapproval for my "mule-headed" decision to talk to Emanuel tonight. She'd tried to refuse to drive me to the jail, insisting that I should be in bed. At the moment, she was sitting with Coleman in his office, discussing my "clinical stubbornness."

I watched Emanuel watching me with what could only be called contempt.

"Crime is obviously down in
Sunflower
County
," I said, indicating the empty cells I passed on my way to Emanuel. "Except for attempted murder. Coleman said you wanted to see me."

"I didn't think you'd come," he said.

"That makes us even," I said. "I didn't think you'd ask for me."

He snorted, lowering his head as he held on to the bars. "Me and you can never be even. In case you haven't noticed, you're white."

"That won't work with me, Emanuel," I said with a bit of heat. "In case
you
haven't noticed, you're the man charged with trying to kill me, yet here I am, willing to listen to your story. And let me point out that I'm about the only person in town who's willing to listen to anything you have to say."

"Everything they're saying is a pack of lies. I didn't try to kill anyone. They've been trying to put me right here in this jail for years. Now they have me locked away on some trumped-up charge."

"Who is this
they}"
I asked. "Coleman? The law? The town? The county? Who, exactly, is it that has it in for you?"

"Why are you here?" he asked with some aggression.

"Because of your mother. This is going to kill her, having you locked up like this. And there's one other reason."

His eyes narrowed. "You believe I'm innocent?"

"No," I said, because it was true. Emanuel had enough hate to fuel an attempt to kill Scott. "What I want is to show you that not every decision in
Sunflower
County
is made on race. I'll look into your
claims
of innocence. For your mother and because that's what I do."