Hell Fire (32 page)

I smiled as she rubbed the woman’s stomach. “Oh, you’re carrying low this time, Millie. Must be a boy.”

The younger woman giggled. “I sure hope so. Dan’s out of patience with the girls.”

Conversation paused as people noticed us. All of us wore black in some form, but Shannon and I stood out more than the guys. In button-up shirts and dress slacks, they both fell within the bounds of normal for this gathering, even if Chance was one hundred percent more urbane than the elder gentleman wearing polyester pants and a plaid shirt.

Before I could think better of this idea, Jesse took my hand in his and led me toward the buffet. I followed since he qualified as our ranking expert on such occasions. He gave the woman in charge his extra-sweet smile and proffered the pan.

“Here you go.” At her questioning look, he clarified. “Peach cobbler. Mrs. Walker invited us here tonight.”

I didn’t know whether that was true, as Chance had spirited me away before they finished in the forest. Even if it wasn’t, her suspicion melted into a warm welcome. A round little pigeon of a woman, she came around the table, practically cooing with delight.

“You’re the hikers,” she exclaimed. “The ones who found Robert Walker. Oh, mercy me, I’m so glad you came. I heard on the prayer chain all about how you waited with the poor boy out in the woods. Not everyone would’ve done that.” I had no idea what a prayer chain was, but she seemed to think our actions stemmed from respect rather than a fear the corpse would vanish. She couldn’t know too much about the secret workings of Kilmer, then.

Jesse made small talk, thanking her for making us feel at home, while Chance and Shannon stood mute. The woman introduced herself as Alice Buckner, chair of the social committee. We shook hands, and I must admit, she seemed genuinely pleased to see us. I wasn’t used to that.

Alice pointed out various people of interest from the Who’s Who of Kilmer. I recognized Phil Regis, the real estate agent, towering over a truly diminutive woman. Why did giants always go for the daintiest flower they could find? He raised his glass in my direction, and I smiled. His wife caught my gaze and gave a sweet little nod. I spotted Ms. Pettigrew watching them from across the room with sadness in her eyes.

“Have you ever been out to the bar outside town?” I asked Alice, somewhat abruptly, if her expression offered any clue as to her feelings.

“Oh my, no,” she said. “I think my Harold has a nip out there every now and again, but it’s not really a respectable place.”

“Because they sell liquor?” Chance asked. “Or because it’s a new business?”

Interesting question. Perspicacious too
, I thought. I waited for her answer.

Alice thought about that. “A bit of both? We’re not a dry county by any means, but too much drinking leads to”—she struggled for the right word—“shenanigans.”

Shannon looked like she wanted to laugh. “What exactly is a shenanigan, Mrs. Buckner?” she managed to ask with a straight face.

The older woman leveled an assessing look on Shannon. “You think you’re so clever, missy. But here you are in church again, no matter what you told your grandpa.”

If I wasn’t mistaken, that qualified as a polite, ladylike burn. I smothered a grin as Shannon lapsed into disgruntled silence. Jesse covered the slight awkwardness with more of his honey-sweet Texas charm.

Alice lapped it up, concluding her admiring remarks. “And here you’ve brought another lost lamb back into the fold.” She nodded at Shannon. “After a row in the middle of the parking lot, she swore she’d never set foot in this church again, oh, four months ago or so. Is there any limit to the good you’ll do here in Kilmer?”

Could she be flirting, despite the mention of her husband?

“I never get tired of good deeds,” Jesse said with a straight face. He’d probably been a Boy Scout too.

Mrs. Buckner took us onward then, introducing us to every last soul in town. They all professed to be pleased to meet us, so tickled we’d set Mrs. Walker’s mind to rest at last. Some of them muttered about the worthless nature of local law enforcement.

By the time we’d been there an hour, I’d received hateful looks from Shannon’s mother and her grandfather, Reverend Prentice, but they didn’t dare make a scene—not here, not now. But it was coming; I could feel it. Shannon’s dad was nowhere to be seen. That worried me.

Concern didn’t stop me from enjoying the homemade food: fried chicken, green beans with bacon, sweet potato casserole, ambrosia salad. I slipped bits of chicken to Butch in my handbag. Every now and then he’d growl low in his throat and I’d make a mental note of the person he didn’t like. His instincts were excellent.

In this setting, it’d be impossible to poison us, as much as Sandra Cheney would like to. If she didn’t want to kill us when we first arrived, she did now. As she saw it, we’d stolen her daughter, but I didn’t trust her intentions toward Shannon. Studying Sandra, I suspected the girl had been right to fear. The woman’s expression didn’t contain maternal concern; instead, it was all thwarted rage. By helping Shannon, we’d interfered with something she planned. Sandra’s icy gaze followed me as I wove through the room, tugged by Alice Buckner as if I were a barge.

Single church-going females snagged Chance and Jesse early on; every now and then, they shot me a desperate look, but they needed to man up and pump for information. If I could handle charged objects when my gift had clearly gone haywire, then they could take a few hours with marriage-minded Southern belles.

Shannon stayed close to me. I didn’t blame her.

I was about to call the whole endeavor a bust, when I saw a tall, thin figure across the room. The church hall spun, then seemed to recede.
Well, holy shit.
Maybe I went pale, because Shannon clutched my arm.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered.

I waved the question away. “Who is that?”

I pointed at the gray-haired man who stood a head above everyone else. It wasn’t the real estate agent; Phil was much beefier. This man looked like he lived on pickled beets and malice. And he wore a horseshoe tie tack. Remembering what Miss Minnie had said about the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, I knew that couldn’t be a coincidence.

Now we had to find the rest. We were looking for twelve total, but I had an idea the others followed the lead of the top four.

Shannon searched the crowd, trying to follow the trajectory of my gaze. In a crush like this, it was impossible, so I described him, leaning toward her so nobody could overhear.

She stared at me, wide-eyed, before answering. “Augustus England. He practically owns the whole town. Why?”

“Of course he does,” I muttered. “He’s
also
the man who choked Curtis Farrell behind his garage until Farrell promised to do his bidding.”

My mother had glimpsed this man pushing back his cowl as she died. She hadn’t seen the others—and so neither had I—but I’d never forget.
Oh, blessed day. At long last, our enemy has a face.

 

 

 

 

Shannon stilled beside me. Obviously she registered the significance, but she said only, “We need to find Jesse and Chance.”

I agreed wholeheartedly; it was time to rescue them from the clutches of a few hopeful Southern belles. We needed to keep an eye on England because I had a feeling he was the key to the whole mess. After thanking Mrs. Buckner for her time in introducing us around, I wove my way through the crowd.

Before we found the guys, I spotted another horseshoe tie tack. I didn’t recognize the man who wore it, but I knew his type. He stood just under six feet, but broad and solid, shoulders straining his navy blue suit jacket. His hair had been shorn close to his skull, leaving a salt-and-pepper buzz. I put his age around forty-five, but he had the fit, powerful body of someone who took physical fitness seriously.

When his gaze met mine, I felt a sudden shock of cold. He had a predator’s eyes, cool and watchful. I
absolutely
didn’t like the way he smiled at me and took a sip of his coffee, as if he knew something I didn’t.

I turned to Shannon. “Do you know who that is?”

She followed the cant of my head and made a face. “Mr. Cooper. He’s the high school principal, a real tight-ass. I don’t know how many times I was in his office last year, just for violations of the dress code. They were always looking in my locker too, as if I’d be dumb enough to take anything to school with me.” Then she noticed why I was looking at him. “Shit. He’s wearing a horseshoe, just like England.”

“So Phipps retired. Where did this guy come from?”

“I dunno.” She shrugged. “I never had a reason to give a shit about the high school principal before. Lemme ask around.”

I followed her while she made some quiet inquiries, and I noticed that Cooper never stopped watching us. His interest registered like that of a hunter, checking out his prey’s behavior patterns, scanning for weaknesses. A shiver ran through me.

Folks were able to tell us the following: Harlan Cooper had grown up here, but unlike most, he’d gotten out of Kilmer for a little while. Again, unlike most who escaped, Cooper returned. He’d apparently spent some time in the military, though nobody knew which branch. When Phipps was near retirement, England had applied pressure to get Cooper hired as school principal, and Cooper had been his man ever since.

“Oh, and he likes to hunt,” one matron added. “My husband is always turning down his invitations to go prowling around. Harlan just loves those woods.”

Oh, really?
Now we had something truly interesting to tell the guys. Chance seemed improbably happy to see us.

He removed a girl’s hand from his arm with a polite smile and turned to me. “Are we leaving?”

“We might be,” I answered.

As we went to get Jesse, I whispered to him what we’d learned. Chance tilted to get a look at the tall, angular man filling his plate at the buffet table. Augustus England had a subtle air of superiority about him; I noticed as he moved away that he made sure not to brush up against other people.

I also noticed the way Cooper watched England from a distance. To the best of my recollection, I’d seen such vigilance only in those paid for protection. Chance took a look at him too, and then scowled.

“He’s a bad one,” he muttered. “And he won’t go down easy.”

Frankly, I was surprised to find the town moneyman at such a function, but when he made for Sandra Cheney, I understood the draw. Her manicured fingers lit briefly on his sleeve, an intimacy he welcomed with a quick, cool pat of his long fingers.
Aha.
I wondered if Shannon’s dad knew; his overall misery seemed to indicate he did.

We found Saldana standing in a ring of females, none of whom could’ve been more than twenty-five years old. They all looked as if they’d like to hit him on the head and take him home to a shotgun wedding. Jesse excused himself as we walked up, but he managed to look reluctant when he did so. His good manners went all the way down to the bone.

Shannon relayed our news, and then he too looked for England. “We’re tailing him from here?” he guessed.

I hesitated. I wanted to, but I wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Kilmer wasn’t a big city, and he’d notice a vehicle departing directly after his and making all the same turns.

“Options?” Chance asked.

“Any possibility you know where he lives?” I asked Shannon.

“Sorry,” she said with a touch of bitterness. “My mom never took me along to her monthly meetings at his place.”

Jesse asked, “What meetings?”

We all favored him with a “Come on, really?” look.

Shannon said, “The Rotary club.”

I saw where she was going with that. “Yeah, her rotating her heels behind his head.”

She smirked a little. “Again, I’d rather not imagine that. I’ve known for a while now. My dad’s really bummed about it.”

Saldana nudged me. “They’re on the move.”

I turned to see England heading for the door. Cooper immediately put down his paper cup and headed for the exit; he took his bodyguarding seriously. Sandra must have intended to count to a hundred before following or whatever chicanery they practiced to fool the good church-going souls in Kilmer. Instead, she gave him a full five-minute head start before she began making her excuses. When she pulled her keys out of her handbag, another piece fell into place; she had a horseshoe on her keychain.

“I don’t know what we should do,” I muttered. “But we can’t go home, and—”

“We can’t stay here,” Chance finished with a half smile.

“Maybe we can tail them to the turnoff,” Jesse offered, “but keep going straight and then double back.”

“We’ll get lost,” Shannon predicted. “It’s fuckin’ dark out there.” She looked at us as if she expected us to chide her for her language, but that wasn’t a priority for me. Besides, with all the ambient conversation, nobody seemed to have noticed.

That did it. “Let’s go, then.”

A few people stopped us on the way out, wanting to shake our hands and thank us for finding Rob Walker. I wasn’t used to townsfolk reacting to me that way. They weren’t even giving the witchy outfit a second glance anymore. I felt oddly out of sorts; I had hated this whole town for so many years, and now I was finding that some of them were genuinely nice people, just making the best of their crappy lives in a terrible town. I didn’t like realizing I’d been just as judgmental and intolerant as folks had been to me so often.

As soon as we could, we hurried out to the Forester. While Jesse unlocked the doors, I bounced with impatience. Each second that passed increased our chances of losing Sandra Cheney, who was our only hope of finding England’s estate.

My heart nearly stopped when somebody stepped out of the shadows near me. I stumbled back a few steps. Chance slid in front of me in a smooth motion, ready to fight. But then, he’d been looking for a fight ever since we hadn’t had sex up against the bathroom door.