Gone to Ground (31 page)

We had to soldier on without the answer we
wanted from Trent. Wasn't really Deena's fault. The man had a burr under his saddle before he even answered the phone.

First thing I had to do after that call was calm Deena and Tully down. They was all worked up, tired and overexcited, and takin everthing plain too personal.

Deena turned off her phone with a flourish, declarin she wasn't talkin to nobody else tonight. She tossed the cell on the coffee table, next to Tully's. Stuck both hands on her hips. "And guess what else. I am
not
marryin that man."

Tully opened her mouth, as if to agree it was a good choice. I gave her a look. Her lips closed.

We took a bathroom break, poured glasses a water, and settled down to work. I could feel tiredness creepin over me. On the couch, Tully was stiflin a yawn. Hard for a pregnant woman not to get her sleep.

"All right." I picked up the pen. "So we all agree first thing tomorrow mornin we head down to see Chief Cotter."

Tully nodded.

"I'll cancel my clients." Deena gave a grim chuckle. "Won't the Cotter men be so happy to see us. Especially me."

"Deena, you're gonna have to tell them Stevie came to your house Tuesday night—in bloody clothes." Tully spoke the words like Deena just might back out a the deal.

"I know. I will."

I buffed my forehead. "All right. So. Let's write down everthing we gon say, and how we gon help Chief Cotter prove it."

We worked, and the time passed. We went over every detail. What Mike did, everthing Stevie did, what Erika told Tully bout comin into big money, what Eva B. told me bout her husband leavin their house Tuesday night. And on and on. Midnight came, and we kept talkin. We made a detailed timeline a what we thought happened Tuesday night. Mayor B killin Erika, then goin home. To our best guess, he'd taken her ring, thinkin he'd plant it somewhere later. Mike leavin work and findin Erika dead. Goin back to the factory and puttin on Stevie's uniform. Stevie findin his uniform filled with blood, and reluctantly puttin it on.

"Wait." Tully frowned. "Why wouldn't Stevie just get a clean one?"

Deena and I looked at each other. She shrugged. "Maybe there weren't any."

Tully looked half convinced. We talked bout it some more, then moved on.

We wrote down quotes about the cleanin fluid mess from Carl Cypress and Letty June. I filled page after page in the notebook till my hands cramped. Finally sometime after 1:00 we was done.

And everthing—all the evidence we knew about—fit. The chief would have to listen. Cause half this stuff he'd already heard. We was just givin him the rest a the puzzle pieces.

I laid my head back against the chair, truly tired. I could barely think. "Anything else?"

Tully heaved a deep sigh. Her eyelids was droopin. "If there is, I can't think of it now."

Deena yawned. "Me either."

Our work was done. May the good Lord be with us tomorrow. And tomorrow would come all too soon.

"Time comes stealin on by night and day."

Deena checked that all the doors was locked. She pulled a sheet, blanket and pillow out a her hall closet and fixed em up for me on the couch. "Just to let you know." She pulled open the drawer on her side table. "I got a gun in here."

I peered down at the thing. "It loaded?"

"You bet. Got a second one by my bed, just like it."

Hmm. I preferred my billy club. But I'd left it at home.

At least I wasn't
at
home. Was Mayor B still in jail? If his wife got him out, would he be headin to my house tonight?

I fetched my suitcase and purse from the guestroom and waved Tully inside. "Go on to bed now. You need it."

Tully turned off her cell phone, lying on the coffee table. She and Deena both disappeared into their rooms. I shut down my own phone and put it back in my purse. Settled down on the couch. It was dark in the room, the pulled curtains keepin out any street light. My body plain sank into the cushions.

In minutes I was asleep . . .

Next thing I knew I'd jerked awake.

What was that noise?

My body went rigid. I lifted my head off the pillow, listenin. It was comin from the back doh. In the kitchen.

I heard the doh open. Close with a whisper.

Somebody stood on the other side a the wall. Breathin.

I woke up lying on my right side, a pillow between
my knees. How long had I been asleep? My body felt like lead, but my brain wouldn't turn off. Scenes of Mike in jail flashed. His hard, bare cot. The fear that must be eating at him. Once Chief Cotter starting looking into our evidence tomorrow, how long would the investigation take? A few days? Weeks? Months? My baby would be born by then. And in the end, would I be with Mike?

No way. I couldn't trust him anymore.

Then I'd divorce him and go back to live with my parents? I couldn't imagine that either. And I sure couldn't afford to keep our house by myself.

Would Chief Cotter even listen to us in the first place? Why should he? He was set. He had his suspects.

The whole town would look at me as a killer's wife. My son would be shut out. No friends, no invitations to birthday parties. We'd have to move away.

Tears flooded my eyes. I didn't want to go on. I just wanted to sleep for a very, very long time.

I shifted my legs, trying to get comfortable. It felt strange sleeping in my clothes. I longed for my own bed, in my own house. But Mike wasn't there. And even if he came back—the man I married had ceased to exist.

My bladder felt full. I shifted again, not wanting to get up. The bathroom was across the hall, and I didn't want to wake Deena or Cherrie Mae.

Sure, Tully, like you can fight this.
In the last two months I'd had to get up at least once a night.

With a sigh I tossed back the covers and pushed out of bed.

Footsteps skulked across Deena's kitchen, so quiet I
barely heard em.

Mayor B.

Had he been to my house first and found it empty? On the way back, maybe he noticed my car sittin out front.
Why
hadn't we thought to put my car in the garage instead a Deena's?

The footsteps stopped.

What was he doin? I stopped breathin, listenin with all my might.

They started up again, headed toward the hall. Any minute now I'd see him.

Down the hall near the guest bathroom Deena had turned on a night-light. It glowed a pale green.

A dark form shuffled into view.

I lay on the couch, froze solid, my heart bangin out my chest. Would he see me in the dark?

He reached the dohway to the livin room. Stopped. His head turned my direction.

My pulse stopped. For the longest minute a my life I felt his eyes starin at me. Tryin to see through the blackness.

His breath whooshed. In, out. In, out.

Abruptly he swiveled left, goin down the hall. His right hand stuck out a ways from his body. Holdin somethin silhouetted against that green light.

Knife.

His fingers clenched the handle. I could see the short blade. A parin knife. Just like the ones he used on the others.

My nerves sizzled.

Tully
. She was in the first bedroom. He'd think
I
was in there.

He'd stab her once. Hard and fast. Be out a here before I could turn on one a the cell phones nearby, make a call.

Deena's gun. I had to get it.

Holdin my breath, I eased off the couch to the carpet. The smallest sound, and he'd turn around. I'd never shot a gun before. If Mayor B came runnin at me, how fast could I get in that drawer, snatch out the gun and shoot?

Not fast enough.

I peered down the hall. He was walkin slower now. Maybe checkin out the two closed doors.

On hands and knees, I edged toward the end table. An eternity passed before I reached it. My fingers fumbled to grab hold a the knob.

His footsteps stopped.

I jerked my head round. What was he doin? How far was he from Tully's bedroom doh? Two feet? Five?

I felt the knob brush my fingers. I gripped it hard and slowly pulled.

Wood slipped past wood—too loud. I stopped. Had he heard?

I peered down the hall. His head was up, cocked.

He turned toward me.

Beyond him, Tully's bedroom doh opened. All air sucked out a my chest.

I yanked open the drawer, scrabbled for the gun. Grabbed it out. "Tully, get
back
!"

Somebody screamed. Footsteps pounded.

I jumped up and around the coffee table, both hands on the gun. Where was he? Where was Tully?

My feet ran toward the hall. At the far end Deena's door flew open.

Mayor B was almost at me.

In that final split second everything slowed. Where was Tully? Had he stabbed her? What if I shot at him and hit Deena?

I jerked the gun down toward his knee and pulled the trigger.

"Aahh!" He stumbled, then crashed forward. I jumped out the way.

The hall flooded with light.

My hand fell away from the hall switch, eyes blinkin
in the sudden light. I gripped my gun. A man writhed and groaned on the floor near the livin room, his back to me. He held one of his legs.

Cherrie Mae spun toward me, a gun in her hand. "Where's Tully, where's Tully?"

No.
I ran toward the open guestroom door. "Tully?" Flicked on the light. She lay sprawled on the floor, pantin. Petrified. "You okay?"

She managed a nod.

I ran back out.

Cherrie Mae stood over Mayor B, gun pointed at his head. Utter fear and despair pinched her face. A parin knife lay in the middle of the hall.

The man gasped his agony.

I started to shake. "What happened, what happened?"

"Cherrie Mae!" Tully's fear echoed.

I swiveled back to her, craziness flyin out of my mouth. "She's okay, Cherrie Mae's okay. She shot him, he's down, she's up. Can you get to your feet? Let me help you."

I jumped into the room and threw the gun on her bed. Pulled her up. She was tremblin as much as I was.