Not Quite Gone (A Lowcountry Mystery) (30 page)

I don’t know. I don’t have children and changing that has kind of always been a moving target. A far-off assumption that it would happen
someday but no real driving force to make it happen sooner rather than later.

“I guess I can’t understand that except in concept. Not really.”

“It’s crazy, the lengths you’ll go to in order to protect little ones you love.”

“But isn’t part of raising them teaching them to be accountable for their mistakes?” I grimace over the word. Killing a girl isn’t a
mistake
, yet in this context…even I
struggle with calling it murder.
 

“When there’s a lesson to be learned, I suppose. But I’m guessing that if Brick and this girl were supposed to die together and he made sure she went through with it, then pussied out himself, living was punishment enough for him. Based on the kind of person he turned out to be, he learned many lessons. The first of which is that he’s an asshole.” There’s an
edge to Leo’s voice that says he doesn’t feel bad at all for being so harsh.

I’m not Brick’s biggest fan, but after seeing fifteen-year-old him, how broken he was, how much he cared about Nan, it’s getting harder to hate him. To not wish that he’d had better parents, ones who would have forced him to face the whole incident head-on instead of bury it so deep he’s still struggling to keep it down.

“He was a kid, too. He should have been held accountable, if for no other reason than it’s the only possible way he could have attempted to move on.”

Leo has the good grace to look ashamed. “You’re right, Gracie, as usual. If he was as troubled and unhappy a kid as you say, he deserved better. But the real question is, what good will it do anyone to drag all this out of the closet now?”

“Nan
will be able to rest.”

“Right. A girl who’s already dead—at least partially by her own hand—will feel better. Brick’s life will be ruined all over again. Your relationship with Beau, which you seem fond of, won’t survive.”

“And Mrs. Drayton will set my life on fire, along with Millie’s, Will’s, Mel’s, and probably yours for good measure. I’m not even sure Clete’s safe from her, although I’d
like to see the two of them go at it.”

Mentioning Clete reminds me of the shitshow my father started the night before last, but I push that mystery aside. There will be plenty of time to angst over my own origins later.

“I’d like to see that bitch try.” Leo clamps his jaw tight, fire glittering in his icy blue eyes. “She threatened you?”

“In a sugary, upper class way, yes.” I swallow. “I find
that despite all my attempts to wreck my own life, I’m sort of enjoying how things are coming together here.”

Leo hesitates, then gets up and moves to my side. His hand goes over mine in a sweet gesture that’s unlike him—Leo and I are not touchers. Not huggers, not kissers on the cheek. The comfort he gives me is the gruff kind, the suck-it-up-buckaroo variety, and this…confuses me.

“You deserve
a life like that, Gracie Harper. I know these ghosts have become a part of your everyday and that you feel responsible for helping them, but don’t let getting involved in their problems ruin what you’ve started to rebuild. It’s not worth it.”

Tears prick my eyes. “But Nan…”

“Who’s to say that outing Brick to the cops is what Nan’s ghost even wants? It sounds to me like she loved baby Brick,
trusted him, even. That the whole thing went bad but maybe she doesn’t even blame him.”

The reasoning twists, threads through me. Tries to come out making sense. “But the one thing she told me was that she didn’t kill herself. It has to be what she wants people to know.”

“People? Or person?” Leo’s eyes wait patiently for mine to meet them.
 

I see gentle friendship and something else, hidden
deep. “Reynolds.”

He nods. “The only time you’ve seen Nan away from Drayton is at her sister’s house. Listening to her talk about how she thinks she definitely killed herself.”

“It must have killed Reynolds. To think she was giving Nan a real chance, and letting her into her life when she didn’t have to, only to have her sister kill herself anyway.” I swallow hard, biting back the swell of emotion
at the memory of the thought that had changed Nan’s mind. Beau said they’d paid Reynolds to shut up, but I’d bet my one set of teeth they didn’t tell her the truth. Mrs. Drayton would never trust anyone else with that information. “It was her sister. The reason she was going to change her mind.”

I stare into Leo’s eyes, hanging on for dear life. I’m still not sure whether this will make Nan happy,
if it’s enough, but there’s a chance. A chance that I can salvage the pieces of my own life and not abandon that poor girl the way everyone else did.

“Thank you,” I whisper, abandoning our stoic policy as easily as he had when I bury my head in his sticky bare chest, hugging him like I can squeeze happiness right out of his skin. I could use some extra.

As though the universe is telling me not to get too comfortable with the idea of keeping the things that have grown dear to me again over the past several months, I come home to see Clete and Big Ern lounging on my grandparents’ front porch.

The sun has just started to peer over the horizon, yawning the weakest pink and lavender beams into the new day. It’s early, but not too early for Mrs.
Walters to be up watering her tomatoes and not too early for Amelia to roll out of bed either.

I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. I put my car into park and set out into the dawn, making the snap decision not to let them into the house this time. My…relationship with Clete has had its ups and downs, and has benefitted us both as much as it hasn’t, but his presence in my life brings more
chaos, always. That’s something I don’t need right now.

Especially with what’s going on with the theft at the hospital.

The fact that Travis thinks Clete’s involved is curious enough, but if he is, the choice to use a fake ghost to throw off the cops feels personal.

What feels
more
personal is that my father, who I just met, actually
does
use ghosts to steal things. The edges of the puzzle
are all lined up but my mind can’t force them together. Suddenly, I’m not so sorry Clete showed up. It saves me a trip into the damn mountains.

“Crazy Gracie,” he says by way of greeting, bare toes wiggling against the wooden porch. He and Big Ern share the green-painted porch swing, neither of them wearing shoes.

Big Ern sports his usual filthy overalls, no shirt, and straw hat. Clete’s wearing
a flannel with the sleeves cut off and jean shorts that look like they were stolen from a really dirty eighties pop star.

“Clete, I know you have my phone number. A phone call before you show up would be nice.”

“Don’t usually make plans like that.”

I sit down on the steps and turn to face them, the fight going out of me. Sparring with Clete will take far more energy than I’ve got after the
emotional upheaval of the past thirty-six hours. Or more.

“What do you want, Clete?”

He frowns. “I don’ think that’s any way ta speak ta yer friend, but I’mma let it slide since you look like ya been rode hard an’ put away wet.”

“Thanks,” I reply dryly.

“Don’ thank me. Yer not wrong. We’re not friends.”

“I never thought we were.”

He nods, considering. The expression on his face is part anger
and part respect, and it’s hard to tell which one is going to win. Or whether it matters. “Good girl. I’d hate ta think my faith in yer smarts were misplaced. I was startin’ ta wonder if ya know shit from shinola after seein’ ya helping the law out with that there robbery at the hospital.”

The statement takes me by surprise. “Is there some reason I should have refused to take a look at the tapes
when Detective Travis asked me to?”

“Detective Travis—” Clete spits a huge wad of tobacco onto the porch. My stomach turns as it slides sideways. “—is an asshole lawman thinks he knows ’bout how things work in these here parts when he don’t. Got it?”

I nod slowly, a germ of fear trembling in my heart. “You don’t like Travis. Got it. He’s not my favorite person either.”

Most of the time.

“You
know something interesting,” I continue, too tired to be careful. “Whoever stole those drugs from the supply room tried to make it look like a ghost did it. Why do you think that is?”

“Don’ know. Curious, ya ask me.” Clete shrugs, his dark beady eyes fastened on me. Issuing a challenge.

I’m not up for it, no question. These guys are like wild dogs, and right now, I stink like fear. “Seems to
me that whoever was behind it wanted me involved. Since I’m the only girl in town who sees ghosts. On the regular.”

“It’s an interestin’ theory, sure ’nough.” Clete doesn’t take his eyes off me as he spits onto the porch again. “Could be that person wanted ta see what side you was on.”

Rock, meet harder place. I’m not on the side of criminals who steal drugs or sell illegal booze or anything
else that goes on up in those woods, but I’m not dumb enough to say that to his face.

“Look, Clete. You and I have helped each other out here and there, when it was in our best interests to do so. But I don’t work for you and I’m not interested in altering that. So if you have a favor to ask that might benefit us both in some way, ask. If not, you leave me and mine alone.”

“Hoo boy, listen ta
that, Ern! Crazy Gracie put on her big-girl panties this morning an’ they’re all in a bunch!” He cackles like a loon, showing the dark stains of tobacco on his teeth before he stops like someone flipped a switch. His eyes glow and my body moves back a good foot out of instinct. “Listen up, child. We friends when I say we friends and I do what I want. Seems ta me I gotta lot of goods on ya, ’specially
given that yer daddy robs places tha’ same way that there hospital got robbed. Terrible thing, havin’ a pa like that show up outta the woodwork.”

My skin goes cold, crawls. How could he know about my father when I just found out he existed myself? I have the sudden urge to run upstairs and comb every inch of my room for a bug, but that’s not Clete’s style.

“What do you want?” I hate the tremble
in my voice but there’s no denying he scares me. Stupid Glinda’s ghost and her stupid insistence I go out into the stupid mountains and get all mixed up with these stupid assholes in the first place.

“Nuthin’, right now, ’cept for you to know where I stand as far as Detective Travis and his long-term potential in this here fine town.” Clete stands, Big Ern at his heels, and they both stomp off
the porch and down onto the sidewalk. Before they get too far, Clete points one bony, dirt-crusted finger at my chest. “Ya want to help that man, might be you could tell him ta back off yer friends in the mountains. Ain’t nuthin’ out there for him but trouble.”

I know that from experience. The moonshiners turn and leave, but it’s several minutes before my shaking legs will hold me well enough
to stand. And several minutes after that, I notice Mrs. Walters staring at me from down the street, the water from her hose missing her boxes of tomatoes completely as it flows like a little river into the street.

Chapter Twenty-One

There’s no way sitting at breakfast with Amelia and acting like nothing is wrong is going to happen, especially after I spent the entire day in bed yesterday and snuck out before dawn, so I keep hiding. I hop in the shower and it feels amazing. Hot water, steam, and a really long shampoo are cures for some of the worst evils in the world, even though most weeks
taking off my clothes beforehand and having to dry and fix my hair afterward seem like too much work for the bliss in between.

Millie’s left for work by the time I get dressed and peek around the corner into the kitchen. I let out a giant sigh of relief and leave the house without breakfast or coffee. It’ll be impossible to avoid going to Drayton Hall today to work on finishing up the archives
but there’s something that needs to be done in town first.

My talk with Leo had made me feel better, I think. Maybe one more confirmation that nothing could be done, officially, would help.

I avoid Westies, not knowing who might be there this morning. The thought of having to fake a smile makes me want to vomit and then go back to bed, so I head straight to the police station, hoping Travis
is working. I get double lucky because not only is he here but he’s alone—no vicious assault by the Ryan twins necessary.

“Miss Harper.”

“Jesus, Travis. I’m not in the goddamn mood.” I drop into the hard chair next to his desk, pinching the bridge of my nose in a weak attempt to thwart an impending headache.

He arches one of his thick eyebrows. “Yes, being arrested on a monthly basis really
takes it out of a person.”

“Do you have to constantly be such an ass?”

“Some women find it charming.”

“I find it annoying.” I heave a sigh, perfectly aware this back-and-forth is getting us nowhere. It crosses my mind to pass along Clete’s warning, just to mix it up, but that would only get us off track, and besides, I’m not a messenger boy. Girl. Woman. Whatever.

“I have a hypothetical situation
to run by you. I need your…legal opinion.”