Splintered Bones (15 page)

"Yeah, only to Annabelle's. You had it all planned, didn't you? Your girlfriend loaned you a dress, and you had that boy pick you up there, and you went to the dance."

"1 remember," I said. The dress had been a deep, rich russet, a beautiful silky dress with a matching shawl. It had been late September, when the weather was still warm. "Taylor Williams. That was his name." I smiled at the memory. He'd gone on to college the next year, disappearing into one of the law firms of the Northeast. "He married a Yankee. I think Aunt LouLane's fit scarred him for life."

Jitty was not amused. "Your aunt about stroked out. She was drinkin' bakin' soda fizzes, 'cause she thought she was havin' a heart attack. She had the sheriff, the highway patrol, and all five constables lookin' for you. Ever' time the phone rang, she thought it was the kidnappers callin' with a ransom request."

I couldn't help but smile, though the memory still caused me deep guilt. "I danced all night. The last disco party."

"And then you didn't sit down for several days."

"That was the only time Aunt LouLane ever spanked me. She used a hairbrush, as I recall."

"Lucky for you she didn't use a baseball bat."

"True." I sighed. "So what are you trying to tell me?"

"Somebody had to know when and where to pick Kip up." Jitty leaned back on her elbows. "This ain't no rash runnin' away from home. It was planned, just like yours."

"Maybe Tinkie overheard her on the phone." I had a lead.

"That would be my first suggestion. Then I'd check that computer. There's a whole world out there that she's conversin' with, and some of those folks may not be safe."

If Jitty intended to frighten me, she was successful. I jumped to my feet. "Internet predators! Do you think she's talking to some killer?"

Jitty rolled her eyes. "More likely she's talkin' to some hired hit man, but I'd use what few skills you got to find out. And first thing tomorrow, I'd sign up for some computer classes."

"Like I have time to learn anything new," I retorted.

"You gone be old, wrinkled, with shriveled ovaries and no technology skills. In other words, you're racin' toward extinction with the lumberin' speed of a dinosaur!"

I finally turned to look at her. She looked dressed for speed. "You learn it," I said. "I have to call Tinkie."

The clock in the kitchen, where I put on a pot of coffee, showed two in the morning. Oscar was not going to be happy with me. Not at all. Oscar had been amazingly pleasant about Tinkie's involvement with the detective agency, but I suspected a dead-of-night call might be the straw that would break the camel's back. Still, there was no help for it.

Tinkie answered on the second ring, her voice sleepy.

"Kip just ran away," I said.

"Where? How? With whom?" She was wide awake and asking all the right questions.

Unfortunately, I had no answers. "I just saw her get in a car. The driver was smart enough not to come all the way down the drive."

There was a long, low rumble of complaint and I knew Oscar had awakened, and not in the role of Prince Charming.

"Honey, Lee's girl has run away. I've got to help find her."

There was a garbled, mumbled discussion that I wasn't intended to hear. At last, though, loud and clear, came Oscar's voice, surprisingly pleasant. "You promise?" he asked.

"Baby, I'm going to rock your world when I get back," Tinkie said. She spoke into the phone. "I'm closer to Swift Level than you. I'll stop by and check there on my way."

"Thanks." I hung up, pondering Tinkie's many skills. She'd taken the lesson plan of a Daddy's Girl to new and dizzying heights. In fact, as I pondered it, I came to the conclusion that she was breaking the major rules and bending all the others. In her own way, she had become a rebel.

I was on the front porch with coffee when she pulled up. She got out of the car and I almost choked. She was wearing a flowing tiger-print silk robe over a matching teddy. On her tiny feet were five-inch spike heels with a little ruffle of fuzzy tiger fur.

"You actually wear that to bed?" I asked. My own sleep-shirt was faded and sagged in all the wrong places.

Her answer was a critical eye that lingered on each sag. "You need help," she said. She reached into the backseat and brought out a black leather bag. "There was no sign of Kip at Swift Level. Pour me some coffee while I change. I was afraid if Oscar really woke up, he'd say I couldn't come, so I just grabbed some things and ran." She was walking toward a downstairs bathroom as she talked.

By the time I had her coffee, she was back on the porch in jeans and a sweater, waiting for me. I filled her in, telling her everything, from the syringe to the phone call I'd overheard to the psychiatric diagnosis. Confession didn't bring the release I sought. Tinkie's face was as worried as mine.

"Kip was on phone restriction except for schoolwork. Did she talk to anyone last evening?" I asked.

Tinkie nodded. "She went upstairs to her bathroom. I was cleaning up the mess and setting the table, and I started upstairs to check on her. I overheard her whispering."

"Do you remember what she said?"

"She said, 'Can you find her? I'll do whatever I have to.' Then there was a long pause, and she said, 'Whatever you say.' And she hung up."

"Did she see you?"

"No, but I asked her what was wrong." Tinkie sipped her coffee. "She said it was a school friend who lost her dog. I should have told you this, Sarah Booth, but teenagers always have so many secrets. I didn't give it a thought."

I put a hand on her shoulder. "I should have gone to Coleman long ago, when I first suspected."

"Suspected what?" Tinkie asked. Her blue eyes were large with concern.

"That Lee is protecting Kip."

Tinkie looked down at her feet, now encased in sensible Italian walking shoes. She fiddled with the shoelace. "He already knows," she said. "I was worried about you, Sarah Booth, alone here with Kip. I'd heard a few things. I talked to Coleman." She looked up with tears in her eyes. "I had to."

"What did he say?" Instead of being angry, I was relieved.

"He already knew all of it. He's been keeping an eye on you and just waiting and watching, hoping that Lee will recognize the futility of what she's doing. I think we should call him now."

"Let's give it until morning," I said. It was only another few hours. "If she's not back by six, we'll call him."

Tinkie stood up. "I hope you made a big pot of coffee."

We were sitting
on the porch when Kip came walking down the driveway. A low fog had covered the ground in dense patches, and Kip walked out of one, materializing like a specter.

"Kip!" Tinkie stood and called her name.

Kip froze, then started walking again. She came straight on, stopping at the steps.

"Where have you been?" I asked.

"There was something I had to take care of," she said, green eyes holding mine with sheer will.

"We've been worried sick," I said, slowly rising.

"I'm sorry. I knew you wouldn't let me go. I had to do it."

"Do what?"

She swallowed, glancing at Tinkie and then back at me. "I can't tell you."

"Who picked you up?" I asked.

"A friend."

"I want a name."

She shook her head. "I won't tell you. Send me to DHR or wherever you have to. I won't tell."

"Go inside and clean up," I said with as much control as I could muster. The new hairdo that Tinkie had created had done a lot to improve Kip's look, but she was still the same rebellious kid.

"I'll be ready for the funeral," she answered, walking past me and into the house.

"What are you going to do?" Tinkie asked.

"I don't know," I answered.

The
CASKET, COVERED with a blanket of white roses, was on a stand beside the open grave. Father McGuire stood at the head of the silver coffin, his black robes fluttering in the March breeze that carried the dizzying fragrance of wisteria.

Lee stood beside Coleman. I almost didn't recognize her in a black dress, hose, and heels. Her long Viking hair had been piled into a very sophisticated chignon. Tinkie, with her yen for hair sculpting, had been by the jail. For all of her Daddy's Girl upbringing, Tinkie had a way with hair. Had she been born into different social circumstances, she could have been the Sassoon of the Delta.

Though I scanned the tiny group twice, Cece was not to be found. Garvel LaMott, camera dangling from his neck and grubby notepad in his hand, was representing the
Dispatch.
Cece was not only a meddling hussy, she was also a craven coward. She was afraid to show up and fess up to sending those two men over to Dahlia House.

Tinkie had agreed to bring Kip. As they approached the green tent, I took note of Kip's miraculous makeover. The short haircut was perfect, and the color was dazzling. She had the strength of Lee's features but a darker skin tone. In her black dress, she looked older and more sophisticated than her fourteen years. The traces of a long night without sleep could be seen in the circles beneath her eyes, and I caught the look of pain on Lee's face as she devoured her daughter with her gaze.

As soon as Kip spotted Lee, she abandoned all pretense of aloofness. She ran across the tiny cemetery and flung herself into Lee's open arms.

"Mama," she said, crying.

"Oh, baby." Lee kissed her head repeatedly as her hands moved over Kip as if to make sure none of her parts had been stolen.

"I miss you," Kip cried.

"I miss you, too. But it won't be for much longer."

Kip pulled back from Lee. She was a tall teenager, but she still had to look up at her mother. "Tell them the truth! You didn't kill him. Just tell them," she begged.

Lee's features froze as she looked over at Coleman. I turned to look at him, too. I couldn't be certain if he'd heard what Kip said or not.

"Kip!" Lee's voice was sharp.

"Tell them!" Kip's voice grew louder. "I don't care. Tell them, or I will!" The new haircut and makeup were superficial changes. The rebellious teenager was back in the set pattern of her face.

"Kip." Lee had lowered her voice. Now it was soft and deadly. "Stop this." She looked around. "Stop it now."

"You're always the big martyr. The only problem is that it's always me who suffers. I'm going to tell--"

Lee's hand was so fast I never saw the slap coming. I heard it and saw Kip's head rock back. She gave her mother one long stare, and then turned and walked back to Tinkie's side, the imprint of her mother's hand clearly discernible in her flesh.

"I want Kip in my office. Tomorrow," Coleman said, leaning over to me. "No excuses, Sarah Booth, or I'll have you in the cell right beside Lee."

My first impulse was to strangle Lee. It would save the taxpayers a lot of money if she didn't have to be tried. To control my emotions, I had to turn away. As I did, I saw a big black dually diesel turn off the road and aim toward the church parking lot. I walked out of the cemetery with the direct intention of heading Carol Beth off at the pass. Whether her motivation in coming was greed or curiosity, she wasn't welcome.

I was almost to the church when I got a good look at the truck. The front windshield was broken out, and someone had spray-painted the word "Bitch" in white paint on both sides of the truck.

Bud Lynch stepped out of the shadows of a big cedar tree and made a beeline for Carol Beth. I stopped. Bud could do a much better job of ass-kicking than I could, and it would be fun to watch.

Carol Beth was in her riding togs and came out of the truck like she had ants in her skintight pants. "If you call my husband one more time, I swear I'll..."

She didn't conclude the threat, and I wasn't sure if it was due to lack of imagination or the sudden realization that Bud Lynch wasn't a man to threaten.

"What will you do, baby doll?" Bud asked. "Let's see. Slander is out of the question, since what I intend to tell your beloved husband is the truth. He'll be able to recognize that little mole shaped like
Italy
on the left side of your . . . coccyx."

Ah, Bud did have a vocabulary.

"Leave Benny out of this." Carol Beth advanced toward Bud.

"I think a man should know what his wife's about. I mean, Benny provides you with a terrific lifestyle and a lot of cash. Maybe if he knew how you spent your evenings away from home, he wouldn't be so generous. And I believe if Benny weren't so generous, you wouldn't have so much free time and money to make mischief in Lee's life."

"I'm going to get Avenger and those mares. Legally, they're mine. No matter what you do, you can't stop me."

Bud pointed to the truck. "Haven't you caused enough trouble around here? I see Kip found out you have Mrs. Peel. I wondered how long it would take her to figure out who bought her mare."

"Kemper sold her for top dollar."

"That was Kip's horse. She'd raised her from a foal." Bud's voice was ugly. "Everything can't be valued in money, Carol Beth. One day you'll learn that. It broke Kip's heart."