Incidental Contact (Those Devilish De Marco Men) (34 page)

He squeezed her hand and forced the words past his throat. “I’ll get snipped, too. Better safe than sorry.”

Somehow, laughing with her lightened the weight on his chest.

A
my crossed her ankles and tried to get comfortable in the straight chair. She couldn’t get that snipping comment off her mind. Eric should know better than to talk about stuff like having kids—or not having them—when their affair was just casual.

Honey bees didn’t commit to anything but making honey.

There was a nurse buzzing about she wanted to swat, too. Narrowing her eyes, she watched Nurse Sandy sashay through the waiting room door for the second time in fifteen minutes. Now the woman held four steaming cups of coffee. Amy held her breath. If she heard one more version of “We ought to get together again real soon, big guy,” she might hurt someone.

She glanced away. Maze had dropped her and Coralinne off and left. She couldn’t show her ass and stomp out, could she? She was stuck here for who knew how long.

“I know you like it hot.” The nurse dragged the tip of her tongue across fresh lipstick. Eric and Colton’s long legs crisscrossed the aisle. Dammit, she’d never make tripping her look like an accident.

“Thanks, Sandy.” Eric gestured for her to sit the cups on the table at his elbow. The nurse bent low to hand him the first cup. Amy glared at the woman’s bright blue bra, visible down the gaping front of the V-neck scrub top.

When Eric placed a coffee in her hand, she nearly squished the foam cup.
Did he buy her that?
The man seemed to keep his gaze on the coffee, passing a second cup to Cynda. Amy turned away, trying to decide which of the pair she wanted to slap.

Falling for Eric was the dumbest thing she’d ever done. Her empty stomach seemed to fold in on itself. Who wanted to feel this way for the rest of their life? Running into his exes would be a non-stop piss-off party.

“She doesn’t drink coffee.” Eric plucked the cup from Amy’s hand and stretched across her to hand the drink to Grams before giving Dan the last cup.

“Oh.” The nurse scowled in Grams and Cynda’s direction before smoothing her face into a bright smile. “I didn’t realize they were with you. Be right back with one for you, Eric.”

Stupid for her heart to go haywire because he remembered such a trivial detail.

“I never took a sip, if you want this.” Dan held out his soft drink can.

Lifting the canned tea to her lips, Amy eyed the silent television screen in the corner, feeling like an idiot. This big-girl shit was harder than it looked.

The snow was coming down so heavily in the live news report, it took her a moment to recognize the big bee hives scattered in the field behind the reporter. She sprang from her seat, pressing her drink can into Dan’s hand. The chair below the television was empty. Planting a foot in the seat, she stretched to reach the volume button.

Behind the hives, police vehicles and vans lined the front of the huge red barn. A blue-clad officer with ‘SLED’ silkscreened in yellow on the back of his jacket opened a set of double doors on a camper cover. A large dog leaped out. The officer bent to clip a leash to the animal’s harness.

The reporter began, “According to sources, the Ku Klux Klan member who confessed to causing the accidental death of Cammie De Marco twenty-seven years ago may be responsible for the deaths of more women. The local sheriff’s department has requested assistance from the South Carolina Law Enforcement Division’s Forensics Bureau. District Solicitor Brice Hammond has confirmed he applied for a new search warrant late last evening, after compelling evidence came to his attention. The dog you see is specially trained to find human remains—”

* * * *

“C
all Reese,” Colton demanded, looking past Eric to Dan. Reese Davies was a sheriff’s deputy and longtime friend of Dan’s. “Find out what the hell’s going on. That bastard’s part of why Lila’s here now. How the hell can anyone keep their blood pressure under control with this shit hanging over our heads?”

Eric swallowed hard. “We know what’s happening. I’m sorry I didn’t call you guys last night. I guess I thought bad news would keep.”

“We didn’t expect the police to move this fast, either.” Amy knelt beside his nephew, who’d stretched out in the aisle. “Listen to me, Jonah. I know these last months have been unpleasant. This new information might make things worse. You can always ask any of us anything, okay? I just need you to know,”—she darted a glance at Eric—“we might not have good answers for some of your questions.”

Amy tugged earphones from her pocket and she sat beside Dan and Cynda, giving one earpiece to each. Eric knew she was playing the copy she’d made of the home movie when Cynda’s tears started again.

Dan scrolled through his phone and made the call. The longer his big brother listened to the cop, the more his face paled beneath the dark stubble. The silver in Dan’s mussed hair seemed more pronounced when he spoke, or maybe it was the god-awful lighting in this place. Dan disconnected the call. “Reese is on site. SLED’s cadaver dog is trained to lie down to indicate she’s scented human remains. He says,”—Dan’s Adam’s apple bobbed several times—“she’s spent more time on her belly than on her feet.”

He put the phone away and tucked Cynda under one large arm and Grams under the other. Amy retrieved her phone and let Grams and Jonah watch the film. No one questioned her judgment about showing the movie to Jonah. Eric supposed the kid had to know sooner or later. Fourteen was almost a man.

The old farmer had always looked harmless to Eric. Even after the incident with Sarah. He’d consigned the event no real importance at the time, other than to get the idea that messing with Sarah was a bad thing, and that John’s idea of joke was a little warped. The man used to bring paper bags filled with green beans and tomatoes, or a jar of honey all the time. He could recall his father inviting him into the kitchen. Never once had he heard the guy mention the Klan.

Had his interest in the hate group come later? After his wife died? Or, after he decided he’d gotten away with murdering Cammie, did that make him bold enough to start killing migrants, or had he....

Or had he laughed all the way home?

The hours dragged by. Only two could go in to see Lila when the time came, and Colton and Jonah claimed the first visitation. Eric couldn’t take his eyes off the television. The police must have arrived just after he’d reached the highway through town. Surely he’d remember if he’d passed that many cops.

Despite the weather, a handful of people began to arrive at the crime scene, just as they had when Cammie’s body had been found. Vehicles lined the road opposite the field. Visitors placed candles, dolls, plastic flowers, and evergreens along the hillside and huddled in heavy jackets to stare at the crime scene tape and the memorials. The despair in their eyes made Eric shudder.

He knew from bitter experience, it would be months before any DNA tests came back on these new victims. Watching the camera pan past anxious faces, he wondered which of their lives been torn apart, worrying over where their loved ones had gone?

Or had they suspected who was responsible and been forced to live with the knowledge that no one in authority gave a red-hot damn?

He couldn’t decide which was worse.

Yes, he could. A sour taste filled his mouth, but the burden he’d stumbled under all his life seemed to shift. It would be much worse to know your loved one was dead, to suspect where they lay, and be told by the silence you were
less than
.

“I
don’t wanna vacuum out any more damn cars!” The shop vac’s metal canister bounced across the garage floor and rolled to a stop at Eric’s foot, resounding over the air ratchet in Dan’s hand. Jonah stalked through the waiting area. Dan let off the tool and the garage fell silent. The door to the office slammed, reminding Eric of the dark days after Sarah’s death, when Jonah first came to live with Colton.

He peered around the hood of the car. Colton threw out his hands. “Every damn day, his attitude gets worse. I don’t get it. Lila’s okay. The baby’s gaining weight and her eyes and lungs are improving. They’ll both get to come home soon, but he’s madder than hell. He won’t talk to me. When I drag him to the hospital, he won’t talk to Lila, either.” Colton smacked the fender of the Chevy in his bay.

Eric had a hunch he knew what was eating the kid. With Colton focused on Lila and Carah, he wasn’t surprised Jonah hadn’t confided in his brother. Wiping his hands, he tucked his rag into the back pocket of his coveralls and followed his nephew. “Hey,” he began, easing into the office and closing the door behind him. “What’s up, squirt?”

“Nothing.” The teen slouched in Dan’s office chair.

“Been meaning to ask. How’s Estrella?”

Bingo.
Jonah gave Eric a baleful glare. “I dunno. I did what Amy said and got rid of Annabelle. Now Estrella won’t talk to me. The Mexican kids only hang with each other all of a sudden. There’s been a couple of fights.”

After a couple of conversations, he, Amy, and Alice had constructed a rough timeline. Livia stated on the film, she’d found the girl and told Nance. It was logical to assume that happened just before she’d confided to Alice about moving out of their bedroom. Which, coincidentally, was the same summer Livia signed over the orchards to Eric’s father. Could’ve been prompted by Nance’s heart attack, or Oliver’s greedy pushing... or Livia had washed her hands of the farm, putting it into his father’s name
because
she’d suspected Rafe would shut it down. There was no way to run eight hundred acres without hiring migrants.

“I wanna find someone to spend the night with, but Colton won’t let me.” Jonah fired another kick into the desk. “I don’t wanna go to the house and sit there while Uncle C calls Lila every fifteen minutes. And I’m sick and tired of the hospital. That place stinks.”

“It’s hard to drive past that barn, isn’t it? Sure bothers me.”

Jonah’s scowl grew darker. “I wish the place would burn to the ground. That old man with it.” The kid’s eyes were suspiciously shiny. “There’s a rumor going around school that some more of those victims might’ve come to this country to work in our orchards. Is that true?”

Unable to bear the look in Jonah’s eyes, he lifted his gaze to the window, watching Maze back the wrecker into a parking space.

Someone must be talking, if the kids at school had connected De Marco Farms with the bodies coming out of that barn. Another conversation with Amy came to mind, when she’d asked him about Dante.

Are we cursed?
He’d say out loud he didn’t believe in such, but deep down, he grew less sure every day. Unless he could think of a way to appease whatever gods or ghouls were haunting his family.

Wait a minute.

Eric squinted at the wreckers, turning his idea over in his mind. Might be good, might be neutral, but he didn’t see how it could make things any damn worse. He understood the kid’s frustrations. He wanted to kick something himself. Barring that, the next best thing was some hard manual labor. “You ever been out in the wrecker, squirt? Ever worked the winch?”

“No. Colton said he’d take me out in the new one, but then Lila had the baby and all we do is run to the hospital or I have to go home with Cynda and Dan and Cynda tries to—.”

“Grab your coat.” He grabbed the phone on Dan’s desk, skimming his finger down the list of important numbers his brother had taped to the desk.

In the garage bay, he nudged Colton’s boot. His brother slid from under the dash of a truck. “I’ve got Jonah. He can stay with me and Amy tonight. Stay with Lila and Carah as long as you need, brother. I’ll take him to the mall with us tomorrow, for Amy’s exhibition. I can use his help setting up, anyway.” Turning to Dan, he steeled himself for an argument. “I let the Highway Patrol know our rigs are out of commission for a few hours. I need ‘em both. I’ll pay the driver’s wages and whatever you figure our losses to be.” He grabbed his keys and shouted. “Maze, Scott, let’s ride. We’re runnin’ out of daylight.”

“Where the hell are you goin’?” Dan demanded.

“First, I’m gonna grab two tractor axles from behind the machine shop.” Eric kept walking. He could use Dan’s help, but he wasn’t gonna beg.

* * * *

A
my closed her textbook with a sigh of relief. Her last test as an undergraduate was in the morning. Then, she planned to cut her last class to head to the mall to start setting up for the wheelchair exhibition. She’d spent the days since Lila’s delivery obsessing over the schedules and rounding up volunteers to help referee, while Eric obsessed over other things.

All she had left to do was laundry. There weren’t many clothes remaining in her trunk, since she’d made a vow to wash and put away one load every night.

Except, every time she opened one of the drawers in those trunks, she wondered whether she should toss the contents into the back seat of her car and leave. Not because she wanted to leave, but because in a few weeks, Eric would end this charade.

She vacillated between wanting to stay and knowing she needed to go now, while she still thought she could. Before he grew bored.

If she did anything besides accept that eventuality, she’d be risking her friendship with Lila and the one developing with Cynda. And then there was Jonah.
What a fucking mess.
She should’ve seen this disaster coming. She drummed her heels against the couch.

She hadn’t expected this overwhelming, crackling ball of emotion whenever she thought about him. No one could’ve told her she’d find him interesting to talk to on every topic. That lying in bed whispering about everything from the time her sister drew spots on her with a permanent marker to his conviction he could build a cheaper, better sporting wheelchair would feel so fucking good.

No one could’ve convinced her he could make her feel sexy, just by looking at her that certain way.

He was more Renaissance man than redneck.

Who the hell saw that coming?

She knew better than to expect him to love her. Nothing poetic about it; the heartache she felt looming was the punch line to every country song.