Lost in Tennessee (31 page)

John’s supporting arm came across her shoulders. She leaned into him as tears rolled unchecked from her eyes.

“Don’t be afraid, I won’t let anything happen to you. Trust me, Kate. I know what I’m asking, but trust me to get to the bottom of this.”

T
hink. Think. Think.

She couldn’t. She felt like the gum on the bottom of society’s shoe. People she passed either wouldn’t look at her or looked with a repulsive sneer on their faces. She wasn’t sure which was worse. Humiliated, degraded, she followed where they led, into a small room with a stark, steel table and heavy duty chairs. There she sat. And sat. And sat.

She wanted to go home.

Now she wasn’t alone anymore, which scared her more.

“Where were you on Tuesday between ten a.m. and eight p.m.?”

Kate looked at the investigator with the crooked tie.

Jeb had contacted Garrison Leeds, an attorney friend of his, and requested he help Kate.

Leeds spoke. “As Ms. Riley’s statement says, she was in Louisville, Kentucky.”

“Can she prove it? Who saw her? Who could vouch for her?” The investigator looked at Kate. “Did you meet with anyone?”

Think. Think. Think.

“I…I was stood up. Supposed to meet a guy, but he stood me up. I ate at a bar. Alone.”

A hand rested on her forearm. “Did you pay with a credit card?”

Kate looked at the hand, wishing it was Butch’s. She closed her eyes and wished for him.

Leeds squeezed her arm. “Kate, did you pay with a credit card?”

Think. Think. Think.

She cleared her throat. “I used my company card.” Tears flowed unabated. “I also bought lunch earlier and then gas, too. Before I left Louisville, I filled up. And they should have record of where I signed in that morning and got my guest pass.”

T
he small plane landed, and the door opened as the stairs locked in place. Butch ran down the steps faster than was smart and strode across the pavement, his hands fisted and his jaw set.

Jeb stepped out of the terminal, his hat in his hand. “Clyde, I’m glad your—”

Butch lunged at his brother, taking him down to the pavement. The two men rolled, cursing at each other. Trapped on the small plane for hours, Butch thought only of kicking the living hell out of his brother. With his training, Jeb got the upper hand and quickly pinned Butch to the tarmac.

“Goddamn it, calm down,” Jeb shouted.

Trudy flounced down the stairs in a floor-length fur, sunglasses, a wide-brimmed, pink hat, and matching three-inch heels. She danced over to the men in small, fluttering steps that made the coat swirl around her ankles. “Boys, you’re embarrassing me.” With the admonishment, she turned up her nose and walked into the terminal.

Jeb tasted the blood in the corner of his mouth and glared down into his brother’s face. “You done?”

Butch struggled uselessly against Jeb’s grip, shouted in frustration, then counted to ten. “For now. Let me up.”

Jeb rose nimbly to his feet and held his hand out to his brother. “Don’t hit me again. You got a freebie. You hit me again, I’m hitting back.”

Butch nodded curtly. “How is she?”

Jeb pulled Butch to his feet. “Not good. She hasn’t said a word since I brought her home. The lawyers were good…and fast. Butch, I swear to you, I’ll figure this out.”

Butch put his hand on Jeb’s shoulder. “I know you will. Sorry about your mouth.”

Jeb shrugged. “I’d have done the same.”

A
s Butch and Jeb pulled up the driveway, Tom came out the door, moving like a boxer with quick, agitated motions and his face set in agony as though he were slowly being tortured.

“Butch, you need to take care of her. Now. She won’t talk to me. She won’t even look at me.”

“Where is she?”

“In the barn.” Tom looked up the drive as though he’d made that walk several times and considered doing it again. He shook his head and turned back to Butch. “You have to help her.”

Butch rubbed his sweaty hands on his jeans as he went around the house to the barn. The door gaped wide, but light didn’t shine from it. In early evening, Butch squinted under the brilliant spring sun, but the barn would be dark. It always was.

Kate sat cross-legged on the floor with a rusty sheet of metal stretched across her lap. She brushed the steel wool in her hand absently across the pitted blade, her stroke devoid of energy. She didn’t look at her work but stared at an infinite spot on the old tractor. Her usually sparkling blue eyes were flat, and her mouth hung slightly open as if it took too much strength to close her lips.

She didn’t move when Butch walked in. Her eyes didn’t flash, she didn’t turn her head, she didn’t acknowledge him in any way. She just continued to run the steel wool listlessly over the hunk of steel.

“Katie? Katie, honey?” Butch took slow, quiet steps to her side, not sure whether she knew he was with her. He touched her shoulder with his fingertips, needing the contact. She jumped at his touch, drawing the flat of her hand along the sharpest edge of the blade.

Kate lifted her hand and watched as the rich blood welled in the cut and ran down her arm.

Butch cursed and tore the shirt from his back to wrap around her hand. “Come on, Katie. We need to get this cleaned up before you get an infection.”

Kate sat on the ground, looking past him. “I need to think.”

Butch swore again. He kicked the blade from her lap, pulled her up from the ground and into his arms. Halfway out of the barn, her arms locked around his neck. He cradled her head against his shoulder and held her close as he strode into the kitchen.

“I have you, Katie. That’s right, just hold on to me. I love you and won’t let you go,” Butch whispered gently into her ear when she had buried her face in his neck.

She seemed so small in his arms, so dramatically different than the larger-than-life woman who stomped and cursed her way into his world. He set her on the counter and unwrapped the blood-stained shirt from her hand.

“What the hell happened?” Tom walked into the kitchen, shouting as he saw Kate.

“She cut herself on a rusty piece of metal. It isn’t deep for all the blood.” Butch rigorously cleaned the cut with soap and water. Kate’s shoulders flinched now and then, but she didn’t make a sound, she didn’t try to pull away. “There’s a first aid kit in the upstairs bathroom. Can you get it for me?”

Tom ran for the kit while Butch held a clean cloth to the cut.

Butch cupped her face with his free hand, stroking her cheek. He lifted her chin. “Look at me.” Butch looked into her eyes as they became glossy and spilled silent tears. He dropped his head and caught them on his lips, kissing her cheeks.

“I wished for you,” Kate said, her voice rough and thick.

Butch pulled her into his arms, locking her against his chest. “I’m home, honey.” Wild strawberries filled his head, this time triggering something protective in him. He wanted to sweep her away from all of this, hide her in his cabin in the Californian hills so nothing could hurt her. Then he would spend days loving that vacant look off of her face. “We’re home.”

Butch stayed by Kate’s side. She existed in a nearly catatonic state, eating what she was fed, walking where she was led. She said only that she needed to think. Butch had made love to Kate, sweetly, gently, telling her everything he found so wonderful about her, showing her how he loved her. She had accepted him, she had moved with him and then curled around him, but she was still lost somewhere inside of her mind that he couldn’t quite get to.

Tuesday, Kate sat curled on the couch while Butch pounded on the piano. A small recording device took in the heavy, angry bellows that raged from the instrument and resounded through the too empty room. Tom stalked in, dusty from a morning on the job site, his brows pressed low as though he felt the frustration and impotence that seethed from the abused keys.

Tom crossed the room to Kate and brushed her hair from her face. “What do we do?” he asked Butch.

Butch dropped heavy hands onto the piano, sending up a boom of dissonance. “I’m out of ideas. Should we call someone?” He expected Doc Johnson had to know a shrink or two.

Tom’s eyes flashed. He pulled his cell phone out and waited until a deep, gruff voice answered. “It’s Tom. I have Butch McCormick with me. The country music star? Yeah, that’s him. He’s sleeping with Kate.” With that courteous introduction, Tom shoved the phone into Butch’s hand.

Butch held the phone to his ear out of habit. “Hello?” He jerked the phone away as two minutes of some of the most creative swearing he had ever heard roared out of the phone. He had a growing understanding of why Kate kept their relationship a secret. Butch looked at Tom who stood there with his arms crossed and mouth clenched in determination.

Ed Riley roared. “Let me talk to my daughter, you son of a bitch.”

At Tom’s nod of encouragement, Butch carried the phone to Kate. “Your father wants to talk to you.”

Kate looked like a porcelain doll with eyes too wide. Butch pulled the phone back, instinctively protecting her, but Tom took it from his hand and pressed the speaker button.

“She’s here, Uncle Ed.” Tom held the phone near Kate’s chin.

When she spoke, it was the voice of a little girl. “Daddy?”

“Is that the way I raised you?” The old man bellowed so loud Butch easily heard every word he said.

Kate closed her eyes, her heavy head resting wearily on a battered pillow. “I don’t understand.”

“Who was the son of a bitch? Who was I just talking to?”

Kate pressed her hand to the phone, holding it herself as she spoke in a slow, quiet voice. “Butch, Daddy. His name is Butch McCormick.”

“You’re sleeping with him?”

Kate frowned, her voice hardening. “I’m not answering that.”

“You don’t have to. Tom told me. I didn’t raise you to be some asshole’s whore.”

Kate sat up, defiance strengthening her body. “Butch isn’t an asshole. Sleeping with a man doesn’t make me a whore.”

“Well it’s not going to find you a husband. Men like easy women in their beds, not in their houses.”

Kate sprang to her feet in a burst of energy that made Tom jump back. “What makes you think I want a goddamned husband? God himself knows I don’t need another man in my life. And if I want a house, I’ll buy one myself!”

“Don’t raise your voice to me, young lady. Marriage is a sacred institution.”

“Ha! Tell that to that woman you married. Fucking Butch may not be a sacred institution, but the man knows the way to Heaven.”

Butch cringed at Kate’s graphic description of him to her father.
Her father
. He cut his gaze to Tom who was doubled over in silent laughter.

“Butch?” the old man continued. “What kind of fucking name is Butch? He isn’t good enough for you. I know those musician types. Woman in every town, kid in every other.”

Kate circled the couch with powerful strides. “You don’t know Butch, Dad. You don’t know a thing about him. He loves me.”

Ed Riley laughed like a hyena. “Son of a bitch, you’re gullible. For a smart woman, Kate, you’re stupid as hell. He’s not going to buy the cow when you’re giving him the milk for free.”

Kate growled into the phone. “Thirty-seven. Dad. That’s how many guys I’ve been with. Thirty-seven. And you know what? I’m not on the giving end—I’m on the getting end.”

“I’m going to come down there and break that man’s neck—”

She stopped pacing and held the phone at face level as though he were in the room. “No, you’re not. You’re not going to touch him. He’s mine. From now on, I’m the only one who can break his neck. You don’t touch him. You don’t talk to him. You don’t think about him.”

“The hell I will—”

“Enough,” Kate screamed. “I love him. End of story. I’m going. I have things to do.” Kate whipped the phone at her cousin.

Tom reached for the phone, grimacing when he caught it.

“Couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you? Idiot.” Kate stormed out of the house.

“She’s back.” Tom grinned up at Butch. “Nobody gets her going like her father.”

Kate opened the screen door and leaned in. “Are you two coming?”

“G
imme your keys,” Kate snapped, not caring whose keys she got. “I’m not taking my Mustang out to the site. With my luck, a piece of rebar will pierce my gas tank and cause an inferno.”

Tom tossed his keys. “Wait. I’ll drive.”

Kate snatched them out of mid-air. “Get in. Are you coming, Butch?”

“I’ll follow you.”

Kate slammed the door of Tom’s work truck and peeled out. She barreled down the road with a full head of steam, blowing a stop sign and scaring the hell out of a field of horses. Tom hung on to the Jesus bar and screamed a prayer at the top of his lungs.

“I want that wall taken apart. Whoever killed that woman left something behind, and I want it.”

“What do you want me to do?” Tom asked. “Jeb took everything that was buried with her.”

“Jeb took everything he could see. I want that wall reduced to beach sand. If someone spit in that concrete I want it. And we are going over everything, from scratch. Waters will do it. The old goat doesn’t miss a trick.” Kate took the entrance to the site on two wheels and parked the truck outside the trailer in her usual spot.

“We can’t do it alone, Kate. If the police aren’t here, they’ll just accuse us of planting the evidence.”

“Then get them here. I don’t care how.”

Kate found Waters and pulled him from his work to comb the scene. “And don’t just look in that area they taped off. None of those cops had ever set foot on a job site. They didn’t know what they were looking at. You do. Nobody knows this shit like you do. The killer left something behind.”

Waters’s sharp eyes were game. “How do you know?”

“Because nobody’s perfect. Find me proof someone else was here. I want to talk to the man who claims to have seen me.”

“Thompson. I’ll send him over. Be nice, Kate.”

Kate rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “You know what they say about nice guys.” Kate tapped her foot as she watched Waters walk across the yard.

A voice behind her cleared his throat.