The Great Jackalope Stampede (23 page)

“No,” she lied. “It’s about your nephew.”

Aunt Millie’s eyes narrowed behind her glasses. “You aren’t in cahoots with his ex-wife, are you?”

“Grady—I mean Sheriff Harrison—has an ex-wife?” Ronnie had trouble picturing the hardass relaxing enough to wine, dine, and bed a woman, let alone marry her.

“Yes siree, and she is a real dandy, too.”

Dandy as in beautiful with big blue eyes like the blonde Lyle had been screwing around with behind Ronnie’s back?

“I’d have taken that bitch down a notch if I were ten years younger,” Aunt Millie told Ronnie, lifting her walker and shaking it at an imaginary villainess. “No man deserves to be treated the way she did my nephew.”

Ronnie wished there had been an Aunt Millie standing up for her when the shit had hit the fan in her happy little world and sprayed out the other side, coating her and everything she had owned. “What happened?”

Aunt Millie snorted, disgust curling her upper lip. “She ripped out his heart, tossed it out the window like a cigarette butt, and then backed over it for kicks.”

“That’s tough,” she said, comparing her heartbreak to Grady’s. While she had not really loved Lyle, Ronnie had thought they had a mutual respect for each other. That was before she’d found herself facedown with a set of tire tracks running down her backside.

“Did she have an affair?” Ronnie asked.

“Not just one.”

“How did he find out?”

“She told him after the baby was born.”

“The baby?” Ronnie blinked in surprise. Grady was a father?

“Yep.” Aunt Millie slapped her hand down on the sink counter. “The painted strumpet waited so that the birth was covered by Grady’s insurance because her boyfriend was unemployed at the time. After she left the hospital, she told Grady that the baby wasn’t his and filed for divorce. The blood test proved she wasn’t lying before a full-fledged child custody battle could get rolling.”

Ronnie grimaced. Damn, no wonder the Sheriff was such a hardass. The poor guy must have a hollow, broken shell where his heart had been. At least there had been no kids caught up in her mess.

“How long ago was this?” she asked. Guilt filled her, making her gut heavy. She probably should have taken it easy on Grady instead of being so quick to argue with him.

“It’s been about five years since the divorce was final. She packed up and moved to Nevada with the baby’s real daddy as soon as the papers were official.”

“So Grady hasn’t seen the baby or her since?”

Aunt Millie shook her head. “It’s a subject his momma, sister, and I talk about only when he’s nowhere around. Grady once told me that as far as he’s concerned, his ex-wife and her kid never existed. I think that’s his coping mechanism for losing the baby boy he had thought was his for nine long months.”

Ronnie thought of the Sheriff, how cold and hard he had seemed since they first met. It all made sense. “The poor guy.”

“Yep, yep.” Aunt Millie tapped on the counter. “After the dust settled, he dove headfirst into his job and he hasn’t come up for air since. His momma figures work was all he had after she left him knocked flat on his ass like that.”

She knew that ass over tea kettle sensation quite well. Her head was still spinning from Lyle’s lies and betrayal. “That really sucks.” Both for her and for Grady.

Ronnie had something in common with him now, both having been royally screwed by their exes. Truthfully, she would rather they just cut their thumbs and shared a little blood and a matching scar. Not that they would ever swap ex stories over a couple of drinks or anything like that. Grady was broken; she could see it now.

She was, too, for that matter. Two broken lives added together equaled a visit on a Jerry Springer type talk show where someone usually ended up throwing a chair, not a two-hour movie on one of those romance channels with a sap-happy ending.

Veronica Jefferson had died of humiliation in that interrogation room months ago while the government sponsored suits snickered around her, leaving Ronnie Morgan to pick up the pieces and keep going. She would not trust so blindly again or maybe ever trust at all. Life would be much safer that way.

“You nailed it, dear,” Aunt Millie scowled across the small room at Ronnie. “It sucks donkey dicks.”

Ronnie blinked out of her empathy-filled meanderings. Did Aunt Millie just say
donkey
…

“But we don’t get to choose the cards life deals us. We have to decide whether to stick with what we have or risk going bust by asking for another hit or two.”

Had Gramps been whispering in Aunt Millie’s ear? That sounded like something he’d say in between puffs on his cigar. After
sticking
with what life had dealt her during the first thirty-five years of her life, Ronnie was ready to risk going bust.

“Are you ever going to tell me what you need from me that’s worth parting with these here earrings, or am I going to die of old age before then? Because if I keel over first, I want you to bury me in these earrings.” Aunt Millie waved her liver spotted hand over the tanzanite hoops. “They’ll look good with my favorite periwinkle dress.”

“I need you to keep a secret for me.”

“You’re buying my silence?”

“If your nephew asks you anything about that castle article we pulled up yesterday, I want you to tell him we stumbled across it by accident in our search for an article written in German.”

“And why were we looking for an article written in German?”

“Greta is teaching me the language, remember?”

“Oh, right.” She frowned down at the earrings for so long Ronnie wondered if she had drifted off while standing there. When she looked up, her forehead was tight with what looked like concern. “Are you in trouble, Veronica? Because you’ve kind of grown on me and I hate to see something bad happen to those I like in this town.”

That Aunt Millie cared enough to ask warmed Ronnie’s lonely heart, making her want to share every little detail about Lyle and the mess he left her mixed up in. But she kept the lid sealed tight on Pandora’s box. No matter how much it rattled, the chain needed to stay locked tight. “Not any more than the normal amount.”

“Is there anything we can do to help? Besides keeping quiet about that article?”

Ronnie shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest, holding in the truth even tighter. “No, but thanks for the offer.”

“I don’t feel right taking real jewelry in exchange for keeping my lips shut.”

“Please take them. Your silence on this means a lot to me. I don’t want your nephew digging into my business.” Actually, it was Ruby’s business, but Ronnie preferred to have Aunt Millie and the girls thinking she was the one tied up in something shady.

Aunt Millie pocketed the earrings. “What German article, my dear nephew?” She pretended, talking to the mirror in the sweet old aunt tone Ronnie had heard her use with certain library visitors, like yesterday with Grady. “Oh, that one? We found it and thought it would make great practice for Veronica since she is so interested in learning the language.”

“Thank you,” Ronnie said, holding open the door for Aunt Millie to shuffle-roll out.

“My pleasure.” She paused as she drew level with Ronnie. “And I expect you to keep your lips zipped about my nephew’s history.”

“You got it.” Ronnie pulled her finger across her lips.

“You are welcome to the computers, honey,” Aunt Millie said as she and her walker led the way back to the other ladies.

“Thanks, but I think I’m good for now.” She didn’t need to risk Grady sneaking up on her again and peeking over her shoulder at another article about a stolen artifact “Here’s my phone number,” she wrote down her cell number on a piece of scrap paper from one of the computer desks. “Give me a call if anyone starts asking any questions, if you know what I mean.”

“This is so cloak and dagger like.” Aunt Millie grinned. “I haven’t had this much excitement since Ruth and I got booted from the senior center last year.”

Why had they been booted? Ronnie shook the question from her thoughts. That was not important at the moment.

After making sure Aunt Millie made it back to her seat without a problem, Ronnie gave her farewells to each of the ladies. She handed out a holiday themed brooch to each one and told them she would see them again soon.

She stepped out into the warm sunshine, feeling less like slipping into flight mode for the first time since she had found out the pocket watch had been stolen and realized the risk it meant to her family. She whistled as she walked the four blocks to Gramps’s 1949 flame-painted blue Mercury, which she had borrowed since Katie had needed her car to run errands this afternoon.

When she turned the corner of the building she had parked behind, she stumbled to a stop at the sight of Sheriff Grady Harrison leaning against the front quarter panel of her grandfather’s car. His long legs were crossed at the ankle, but his shoulders were stiffer than the Tin Man’s after a downpour.

Come on! Now what had she done? Had Aunt Millie called him as soon as Ronnie left the library, singing like a canary? No, she would not have done that. He must have seen her entering the library from his cop shop window.

He stared across the parking lot at her from behind his sunglasses, his mouth molded into a flat line.

Lowering her forehead, she readied herself for more head butting. There would be no getting around him, so she might as well take him straight on. She crossed the lot, fixing a fake smile on her face.

“Hello, Sheriff. How are you doing on this fine afternoon?”

“Cut the chit chat, Veronica.” He stood up straight and tugged the brim of his hat lower. “We have a problem.”

So much for feeling sorry for the jerk about his ex-wife scandal.

“Really, Grady?” Her lips pursed. “What is it now? I can hardly wait for yet another threat from you.”

“You lied.”

“About what?” She had lied about so many things since coming to Arizona that she knew better than to engage in any denial without knowing where to start.

“Your husband.”

“I told you our marriage was invalid.”

“I’m not referring to that particular admission.”

“Okay, so what exactly did I lie about when it comes to Lyle Jefferson?”

“You withheld the fact that he is currently in prison, for one thing.”

Someone had been doing his homework. Ronnie had figured it was a matter of time before he stumbled across Lyle’s prison sentence. “I don’t remember saying he was a free man these days.”

“You insinuated that he was traveling.”

“No, you misunderstood and assumed he was traveling. He used to travel weekly until he ended up in prison.”

“You lied by omission, then.”

She wagged her finger in front of his rock hard jaw. “
Au contraire
, Sheriff. You’re very good at twisting things to make me look shady and suspicious.”

He captured her finger in a steel grip, his palm hot to the touch, and yanked her close enough to step on his toes. It was a replay of the other night, including her speeding heart. “From what I read, Veronica,” his voice was low, dangerous, “you’ve done a good job of doing that to yourself.”

He was looking down his nose at her again, both figuratively speaking and for real. God, she ached to knock that crooked appendage off his face. Ronnie pulled her finger free and stepped back, clenching her fists. “Be careful assuming things about me, Grady. The truth might sneak up and show you for a fool, along with the rest of your friends with their fancy suits and search warrants.”

“What are you doing here, Veronica?”

“Visiting my family.”

“No, I mean here in Yuccaville. Today. You’re digging for something in the library. What? Something to do with that article with the pictures of pocket watches?”

Shit-sticks!
This guy did not give up, did he? Good thing Ronnie had already bought his aunt and her gang’s silence. She mentally patted herself on the back for being one step ahead of the busybody staring down at her from behind his dark glasses.

“Your aunt and her friends explained it all yesterday, Grady. I’m learning how to knit and speak German.”

He shook his head, barely letting her finish before visibly rejecting her explanation. “Christ. You’re a real professional, Veronica Morgan.”

“Thank you, Sheriff.” She deliberately misunderstood his insult.

“You stand here in broad daylight, blowing my hair back with your lies without showing a single twinge or twitch of guilt. It’s been a long time since I’ve come across someone as smooth tongued.”

A long time as in five years ago when his wife pulled her whammy on him? He must kick himself daily for not seeing the truth on her face day after day for nine long months.

“You’ve had a lot of practice perfecting your craft, I’m betting.” The glower he was wearing spoke volumes about his feelings for her at the moment.

His disdain burned, darn it. The resulting sorrow floated up toward the surface, but she caught hold of it and jammed it back down deep before he could see how his opinion affected her.

Why in the hell did she care what a small time sheriff thought of her? He was just one more authority figure treating her like she was something that fell out of the back of a manure spreader.

But she did care, damn it. Maybe it was because of the camaraderie she had felt after hearing he, too, had been royally screwed by his ex. Or maybe it had less to do with the Sheriff himself and more related to the fact that the stink Lyle had marked her with was still hovering around her. It was something she could not shake even a thousand miles away from South Dakota.

She squared her shoulders. The Sheriff wasn’t going to be her best friend anytime soon. So what. Life would go on as it had for the last few months. He was just one more person to keep an eye on as she figured out her next move.

“Are we done here, Sheriff?” She hit a button on Gramps’s key ring. The Mercury’s door unlocked with a clunk.

He stepped aside, letting her open the door and crawl inside. “I don’t know that we’ll ever be ‘done,’ Veronica.”

She flashed him a sideways glance. “Then you’ll need to get in line.”

“And what line is that?” He gripped his belt with both hands, the butt of his gun brushing his wrist.