Rebel Without a Cake (27 page)

“I don't know exactly,” Adele said. “Silas never said. It's a lot, though, and I do know that the part Silas inherited cuts right through where Junior plans to expand his charter business. He's been talking about draining the swamp in that area so he can build guest cabins and whatnot.”

That would explain why Junior had suddenly stopped working on the project. It also sounded like a motive for murder—except that if he killed Silas, Nettie would inherit. I wanted Junior to be the bad guy, but getting his brother out of the way wouldn't help him or his planned expansion. It would just throw up another roadblock. It seemed far more likely that Nettie or Kale had wanted Silas dead.

The tingling sensation rushed to my shoulders as pieces began to click into place. “If Junior knew that Silas got that land after their mother died, he'd know that Kale will eventually inherit from Nettie. Is that why he's so fired up to get Kale on his payroll, and was that why he'd suddenly started coming on to his sister-in-law?”

The crunch of footsteps on gravel distracted Adele for a moment. Ed came around the trailer, and I watched her close up right in front of my eyes. “I don't know,” she whispered. “You'd have to ask him.” She turned toward Ed with a wave and a smile. “There you are. You got some time to look at my starter?”

“You bet.” Ed stopped in front of us and wiped his greasy hands on a rag. “I got bad news for you, Miss Lucero. There's no way I can fix that Mercedes of yours. The front axle is cracked, one door is a goner, and those air bags will cost a fortune to replace. There's a whole long list of what's wrong, but bottom line? The thing's totaled.”

I didn't care about the Mercedes right then. I knew I'd care eventually but it was just a car. A really great car, but just a car. I'd inherited it when Philippe died, so it had never really felt like mine. All I could think about was who'd killed Silas, and how to get that information to the right people. Instinctively, I checked my cell phone, but the earth hadn't shifted on its axis and cell towers hadn't magically migrated to new locations. I still had no service.

After paying the storage fee I'd already racked up and promising to let Ed know my plans for the Mercedes, I drove back to T-Rex's and went inside. The clerks were happy to let me use the phone so I placed a call to Georgie Tucker.

“I know what happened,” I said when she answered her phone. I heard a gasp behind me and realized I shouldn't say too much where the T-Rex staff could hear me. I didn't want anybody to let Nettie and Kale know that I was on to them before Georgie could arrest them. I cupped my hand around the receiver and whispered, “We need to meet. How soon can you get here?”

“You know who killed Silas?”

“Yes.”

“I'm about an hour away,” Georgie said. “Why don't you just tell me who you think it was?”

“I can't do that,” I said. “I'm calling from the general store.”

“You don't want anyone to overhear?”

“That's right.”

“Stay where you are,” Georgie ordered. “I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“I'll be in the parking lot,” I told her. I figured she'd find me without any trouble. Miss Frankie's car was bound to stand out.

Both clerks looked curious when I hung up. I think they expected me to explain myself. That might be what everyone in Baie Rebelle did when they made a public phone call, but sometimes you just have to buck tradition.

I smiled and thanked them for the use of the phone, and then let myself outside.

I chafed at every second I had to wait. A couple of times, I had the urge to play hero and drive out to Nettie's just to make sure she and Kale didn't get away. But I wasn't stupid. If Nettie Laroche saw me at her house, she'd probably realize the jig was up. I couldn't outrun her in Miss Frankie's car. I'd be too nervous about wrecking it to try. Besides, Nettie and Kale had immediate access to (and familiarity with) hundreds of miles of remote swampland. I can't stress enough how much I did not want to end up a statistic on somebody's death-by-alligator list.

I waited for about twenty minutes before three things happened simultaneously: I got too antsy to sit still; I realized my mouth was dry as dirt; and I remembered that Nettie was probably at work. I could get a table at the Gator Pit and order a Diet Coke. That way I could easily keep an eye on Nettie until Georgie arrived.

Great plan—except that the Gator Pit was empty save the long-haired bartender who'd been on duty last time. Long Hair looked up from the small TV behind the bar and gave me a chin-jerk greeting. “Getcha anything?”

“A Diet Coke, please.” I sat on a barstool and glanced around. “Is Nettie here?”

“You know Nettie?”

“We've met a couple of times. I thought I'd say hello.”

Long Hair put a glass in front of me and almost got it on the coaster. “Nettie ain't here. She didn't show up this morning.”

I tried not to jump to conclusions. She could have been sick. Missing a shift at work didn't necessarily mean that she was a coldblooded killer on the lam. “Have you called her?”

“Tried three times. She ain't answering her phone. A possum or a raccoon maybe chewed through the phone line.”

Okay. It looked bad. But again I told myself that Nettie's failure to show up wasn't necessarily a reason to worry. “Is that usual? Does she skip shifts often?”

Long Hair wiped down a spot on the bar and shook his head. “Not since I've been here. She's usually right where she's supposed to be.” He tossed the rag into the sink and jerked his chin toward the empty room. “I woulda gone to check on her but I'm the only one here. She's probably sick. Kale will come by and let me know.”

I did my best to believe that Nettie was under the weather and that animals had taken out her only means of communication, but the uneasy feeling wouldn't go away. If Nettie and Kale were on the run, I should let Georgie know right away.

“Why don't I go check on her,” I said to the bartender. “If Georgie Tucker comes looking for me, would you tell her I've gone out to Nettie's house?”

“Sure thing. You'll let me know what's going on after you talk to her?”

“I'll make sure of it.”

I drove as fast as I dared on those narrow, winding roads to Nettie's tiny yellow house. I kept telling myself that I was just being overly cautious. That I shouldn't jump to conclusions. That Nettie and Kale couldn't know that I'd figured out everything they'd done to get Silas's inheritance and ensure Kale's future. They wouldn't disappear now.

I picked up the scent of burning wood before I actually saw the smoke curling up over the trees. Sick with fear, I pressed the accelerator and shot around those curves faster than I felt safe. It seemed to take forever, but I finally rounded the last turn.

Thick gray smoke billowed from the rooftop and my heart plummeted. Had Nettie and Kale torched the house? As I pulled into the driveway and saw the white Ford Ranger near the back of the house, my breath left my lungs in a
whoosh!
I hadn't wanted Kale to be in on his mother's scheme, but that thought was better than the alternative. I couldn't bear to think that Nettie had left Kale behind.

Back in the city I could have dialed 911 and emergency crews would have been on their way within minutes. Here in Baie Rebelle that wasn't an option. The closest phone was inside the burning house. I'd never get to a neighbor in time to save him. I was his only chance of survival.

I shouted for Kale at the top of my lungs, but I couldn't hear any response. The idea of going into a burning building terrified me, but I couldn't just sit back and do nothing. I'd never be able to live with myself, especially after the way Kale had saved me when I was stranded on the side of the road. I might already be too late, but if I were the one inside, I'd like to think someone would at least try to get me out.

I ran around to the back of the house, where towels hung on a makeshift clothesline. That laundry drying innocently in the sun seemed incongruous to me. Would Nettie have hung out the laundry if she planned to set fire to the house?

While my brain pondered that question, I checked the door and window. I couldn't see flames, but it looked like the whole house was filled with smoke. Drawing on every speck of courage I could find, I carefully put my hand on the door to feel for heat. It was warm, not hot, but I grabbed a towel off the line and wrapped my hand before I tried the knob.

It turned easily so I pushed the door open and stepped back in case flames shot out at me. Smoke poured out the door, temporarily blinding me. My eyes burned and my lungs, still sore from the air bag incident, seized up on me. I gasped shallow breaths and pushed inside. Smoke filled my lungs immediately. I dropped to the floor, somehow remembering that smoke rises, and coughed out Kale's name again.

The reality of being inside that burning house was even more horrific than I could have imagined. Boards creaked and groaned beneath me, making noises that sounded almost human. I couldn't go in much farther. I'd never make it out alive.

Carefully, I inched forward and called out again. My voice came out on a cough that felt as if it had shredded my lungs. I had to get outside.

Just then I saw something move in the smoke ahead of me. The shape turned into a person, and Kale backed into the room, dragging his mother behind him.

Without thinking, I crawled forward to help. Kale was disoriented and terrified. He swatted me away and kept tugging his mother toward the door. My head was spinning and I could barely see. My lungs were ready to explode, but I scooted around so I could grab Nettie's feet.

After what felt like an eternity, Kale and I made it out the door and into the fresh air. We took a few seconds to suck in some oxygen and orient ourselves, but we were far from free of danger. “We have to get away from the house,” I said to Kale. My voice sounded like I'd swallowed gravel. Even those few words hurt.

Together, we picked Nettie up and started moving toward Kale's truck. I had no idea where the nearest hospital was, and the only medical help in Baie Rebelle was the faith healer Aunt Margaret had mentioned to me, but I thought a
traiteur
would be better than nothing. We had to get help for Nettie.

We were halfway to the truck when I heard something zing past my ear, followed by a
ping
that sounded like rock hitting metal.

Kale slammed into me and knocked me to the ground, shouting, “Take cover!”

My mind was working in slow motion. I had difficulty understanding him. While I was still trying to arrange his warning into words I could comprehend, another
ping
came and my mind suddenly clicked into working order.

Someone was shooting at us.

I was in full fight-or-flight mode by the time the third shot came, and I wasn't seriously considering the “fight” option. Kale threw Nettie over his shoulder and ducked behind the Ranger. I followed Kale, throwing myself on the ground a split second before shot number four pierced the truck bed.

Nettie coughed a couple of times, so I knew she was alive. At least for now. Kale threw an arm over her and warned her to stay down but I thought she looked too weak to get up anyway. I smelled gasoline and realized the gunman must have hit the gas tank. Which meant we couldn't use the Ranger to get away. Until that moment, I'd been counting us lucky that he'd missed his targets. Now I realized he—or she—was a better shot than I'd thought.

“Is there any place we can hide?” I asked.

Kale tipped his head toward the garage. It was detached from the house, but only a few feet from the truck. “That's it unless we can get to a neighbor's,” he said. “And I don't think we'd make it with Ma.”

I inched up so I could see over the Ranger's hood and scanned the area. “I think the shots came from that hill,” I said, pointing across the highway.

“He won't stay there,” Kale said, crouching beside me. “He knows where we are. He'll move to get a better shot at us.”

His assessment made sense to me. “How long do you think we have?”

“Couple of minutes, maybe.”

That wasn't nearly long enough. We couldn't get to safety but we couldn't just stay there and turn ourselves into sitting ducks. “Is it Junior?” I asked.

Kale nodded. “Has to be. If Mom dies, all that land comes to me. If I'm gone, Junior's the only one left to inherit.”

So he staged a house fire to kill off the competition? Apparently, Silas wasn't the only deranged nut on the family tree. “We have to find a way to beat him at his own game,” I said. “What are his weaknesses?”

“Out here? He doesn't have any.”

“Everybody has weaknesses,” I insisted. “What are his?”

Kale's temper snapped and he turned on me. “He doesn't
have
any. He's one of the best. He can pick off an alligator swimming in the open with a single shot. Do you know how small the kill-spot is on a gator? It's the size of a quarter.”

“I don't care,” I shouted back. “I know we're being hunted, and I know he's good enough to take us out, but we have to do
something
. We can't just sit here and wait for him to pick us off. What pushes his buttons, Kale? You have to know.”

Nettie coughed again and this time she tried to speak. “Too . . . smart.”

They were making
me
crazy. Junior had been there for them so long they'd started thinking of him as invincible. But if they held on to that way of thinking, we were all doomed. “He's not that smart,” I snapped. “Come on. We can do this if we put our heads together.”

Kale stood up before I could stop him. “You stay with Ma. I'll see what I can do.”

Worried that he'd just put a bull's-eye on his chest, I grabbed his arm and jerked him down toward the ground. He let out an
oooph!
and crashed onto me hard enough to knock the air out of my lungs. Hot, sticky blood hit my face and neck.

I screamed and tried to shove him off me. I was certain he'd been killed and I didn't want to lie there beneath a dead guy. Besides, I couldn't save Nettie or myself if I couldn't get up.

It took some effort, but Kale finally rolled to one side with a deep groan. I leaned over him and searched for the bullet wound. Blood covered his shirt, but he was alive. I couldn't see anything with all that blood on him so I tore his shirt open. I spotted the wound on his left shoulder. His shoulder, not his heart. Thank God.

I ripped a piece of fabric from his shirt and used it to stanch the flow of blood. It wasn't much of a bandage and it wasn't nearly good enough, but it was all I had. I was pretty sure that Kale would survive the wound if he didn't lose too much blood or get shot again. Junior wouldn't miss a second time.

I couldn't think. I had no idea what to do. I had two seriously injured people with me. Both of them needed medical attention, but I wasn't strong enough or fast enough to get it for them. I would have given anything for a miracle. A few bars of service on my cell phone. The help of a random stranger who had either medical training or a high-powered rifle. I wasn't picky.

I sat in the dirt watching gasoline creep across the driveway and feeling utterly helpless. Other than decorating cakes and making a mean
chili verde
, I didn't have many useful skills. I should learn how to shoot. Or go to medical school. I should study covert undercover operations and practice moves that would let me get across that road and up the hill without being detected.

I should be able to do
something
.

I knew we'd already been sitting there too long. Junior would reach a new location any second. I strained to hear any sound or see any movement that might tell me his location, but he was good at what he did. Nothing gave him away.

But I did pick up a low hum that seemed to grow louder all the time. The hum of wheels on pavement. Someone was coming toward us, but I didn't know whether to be relieved or frightened. Maybe we were about to be rescued. Maybe Junior had decided to finish the job up close and personal.

My breath caught in my throat and my heart slammed against my ribs. I inched forward carefully and watched for the vehicle to come into view, and I prayed that Georgie had figured out where I was and was now riding in like the cavalry.

After a very long time a truck came into view. I couldn't tell who was driving, but it didn't look like Junior's truck and I was able to let out the breath I'd been holding. Two more trucks rounded the curve in the road right behind the first one. In a blur of motion all three trucks pulled to the side of the road and people began to pour out.

I didn't know if Junior would try to finish what he'd started with so many witnesses around, but I thought I should warn them that they could be in danger. I jumped up and raced toward them, shouting for them to get back and take cover.

Eskil stepped out of the tangle of people and grabbed my arms. “Slow down there, Rita. Don't worry. We came to put out the fire.”

I tried to explain but the words kept getting stuck. Whole sentences turned into single words by the time they reached my mouth. “Nettie,” I said insistently. “Kale. Shot.”

Eskil gently pressed me toward someone else. “Don't worry, little girl. It'll be okay.”

I grabbed his arm, desperate to make him understand. “Junior. Out there,” I said and did my best to pinpoint his location. “He shot Kale.”

One of the other men seemed to understand what I was saying. I directed him toward the Ranger and turned back to find that Eskil's face—what I could see of it between his eyebrows and beard—was tight with anger. “You're sure it's Junior?”

Was I? I shook my head and managed to connect a few words at a time. “No, but Kale said. Tell Georgie. Have to stop him.”

Eskil led me along the caravan of rescue pickups and put me inside the cab of the last one in line. He grabbed a rifle from the rack behind my head and growled, “You stay right here. I'll take care of this.”

“No! Don't. Let the sheriff do it.”

My plea fell on deaf ears. I watched in horror as Eskil trotted across the road and disappeared into the undergrowth. I sank down in the seat and tried to take a couple of deep breaths, but I was too worried to sit still. If anything happened to Eskil, I knew Bernice would never forgive me. I had no idea what I could do to help him, but that useless feeling filled me with desperation. Still not sure what I could do to prevent a tragedy, I opened the door.

I heard a clatter and a metallic click followed by a deep male voice. “Stop right there, ma'am. I can't let you get out of the truck.”

I whipped around to see who was talking and ready to argue with whoever Eskil had told to keep an eye on me, but the face I saw in the driver's side window chilled me to the bone.

Pointing some massive handgun at my head, Junior slid into the truck with me and turned the key. I knew that wasn't the gun he'd used to shoot at us from the hill, but I caught a glimpse of a rifle with a scope as he tossed it into the truck bed.

Before anyone noticed what was happening, Junior executed a perfect three-point turn and took off toward town. I hadn't buckled my seat belt, and I didn't buckle it now. I had to look for an opportunity to jump out of the truck, and I didn't want anything to slow me down when I found it.

Junior drove like a madman, which, of course, he was. The truck bounced over ruts in the road and swerved dangerously around curves. And the only thing I could do was hang on for dear life.

*   *   *

Facing your own mortality is not as much fun as it looks in the movies. A million thoughts raced through my head as Junior and I barreled toward Baie Rebelle. Most of them were completely inane. I noticed the color of the sky, the way the butterflies swarmed up from the bushes, and how those bushes swayed as we roared past.

I knew I should be looking for a way to escape, but I couldn't seem to order my thoughts. I gripped the armrest and told myself over and over that I would be able to jump when Junior slowed to go through town. It seemed logical, but I felt an almost overwhelming pressure to do something now.

Maybe he wouldn't take me into town. Maybe he had a secret hiding place along the way. Maybe he'd shoot me, or throw me into the water. Maybe nobody would ever know what happened to me.

Nervous energy mixed with the fear. My foot began to tap in an erratic rhythm that only made me feel worse. More to calm myself than to get Junior to confess, I decided to get him talking. Even hearing him rant and rave would be preferable to sitting there in silence, imagining all kinds of horrible things.

I said the first thing that popped into my head: “You're not going to get away with this, you know.”

“Shut up.”

“Everybody knows you set that fire. Nobody will believe it was an accident. But your plan failed. Nettie's still alive and so is Kale.”

“Shut. Up!”

“All this has been for nothing. You wanted your father's property all for yourself, but you'll never get it now. You'll spend the rest of your miserable life in prison.”

I didn't see his hand move in time to duck. He backhanded me across the cheek. Pain seared my face and the taste of blood filled my mouth.

“I said
shut the hell up
.”

A rational woman would have taken his advice, but I was a long way from rational. “When did you decide to frame Eskil? Before you killed your brother, or after?”

He glowered at me. “You're a pain in the ass.”

“And you've just added kidnapping to your long list of felonies. Did you really think nobody would figure out it was you? Because that's just crazy, you know.”

He sneered at me. His eyes were ice cold and empty. “Who's the crazy one?” he said in an ominous voice. “Who's the stupid one? Huh? Tell me, which one of us is driving the truck?”

Junior had a point, but it had been pure dumb luck, not superior genius, that had put him behind the wheel. Plus the fact that he was carrying a loaded gun. And the whole homicidal maniac thing.

I experienced a moment of crushing despair before I remembered what Nettie had said when she started regaining consciousness back at the house. “Too smart,” she'd said right after I'd asked about Junior's weaknesses. Junior was too smart for his own good. She'd tried to give me the answer but I'd misunderstood her.

If that's what she meant, I had two choices: Try to placate Junior and hope he'd calm down enough to have second thoughts about turning me into alligator bait; or push his buttons and hope anger made him careless.

Since I didn't think I could convincingly pull off calm and soothing, I went with Plan B. Besides, I'd been doing a pretty good job of pissing him off already.

“You didn't know what your mother was going to do until she died, did you? She didn't tell you that she was giving half of the property to Silas.”

Junior's jaw clenched but he didn't say a word.

“You thought you were going to get everything. You really thought your mother was going to cut Silas out just because your father had?”

“She was stupid,” Junior said through clenched teeth. “She couldn't see what a worthless piece of shit he was. He threw it all away. All of it. And why? Because of some crazy-ass idea that owning property was wrong.”

We zoomed past a house that was nestled in a grove of trees. It was there and gone too quickly for me to think about escaping.

I tried to keep him talking. “You didn't mind that at the time, though. In fact, I'll bet you encouraged Silas to think that way. I'll bet you fed into his crazy idea so you could have it all. You knew how he was.”