Last Kiss Goodbye (19 page)

A shudder rippled through her, but she blocked out the memory of the attack and the fire. “What happened at the jail? You’re free?”

He nodded and hugged her hand to his chest. His heart pounded against her palm, his heat warming her. “My mother came to see me. You…made quite an impression on her.”

Ivy forced a smile, although her head throbbed with the effort. “She loves you.”

Matt closed his eyes as if her words pained him. Finally he cleared his throat, but his voice reverberated with emotions. “She killed my father, Ivy. She did it to protect me and my brothers.”

Shock mushroomed inside Ivy, but faded quickly. “A mother’s instinct is to protect her children, Matt.”

“But I thought…all these years…that she didn’t care. She was so disappointed in me….”

“Maybe she thought that she’d taken her husband’s life for nothing.”

His breath hissed out, and she wanted to retract the words. “Matt, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know what you meant, and you’re right.” Regret thickened his voice. “We were hellions and troublemakers. I wish I could change the past.”

“You’re doing what you can now.” She stroked his palm with her fingers. “Thank you for saving my life. Again.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then kissed her cheek gently. “I don’t want to lose you, Ivy. We’ll figure this mess out together.” He hesitated, wanting to say more, to declare that he loved her, but he refused to make promises he couldn’t keep. “Did…you remember anything else?”

Arthur Boles’s face flashed like lightning against the black sky that had clouded her memories. The Arthur Boles from her dream had been younger, trimmer, and he had been in bed with her mother.

Tears trickled from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She didn’t want to think about her mother in bed with that man. She’d been terrified of him when she was little. Had hated the grunting sounds they’d made, night after night. And when her father had caught them once, he’d hit her mother and called her all kinds of vulgar names.

Had her father found her mother in bed with Arthur a second time, then flown into a jealous rage and killed her?

No, her father hadn’t murdered her mother. The man who’d threatened Ivy on the phone had admitted his guilt.

Arthur had been powerful back then, a wealthy real estate agent. He wouldn’t want his affair with a woman from the trailer trash crowd divulged.

Would he murder both her parents to keep that affair a secret?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Burn up the old witch

With her own spell.

Devil come and take her

Straight to hell.”

LADY BELLA RUE’S CATS snarled and hissed, clawing at the windows as the chanting outside continued. She spread salt around the inside of the cabin, lit several candles and murmured a prayer of protection.

The teenagers with black painted faces circled her shanty in their black hooded sweatshirts, some carrying torches, others throwing eggs and rocks at her house. She peered through the haze of the clouds and saw two of them open the latch to her chicken pen. The chickens flapped and squawked as the boys chased them through the mud, trying to catch them. They’d stolen chickens from her before, slaughtered them and left the bloody remains and feathers on her doorstep, as if they thought they could run her off. She still didn’t understand the madness that erupted in the town during the rains, but she continued to fight it with her potions and spells.

But the kids had never gathered in such a large group before, never encircled her house as if they meant to burn it down. The violence seemed to be escalating, the devil’s followers growing in numbers as if the kids had actually gone through the seven devils’ rooms to become voodoo practitioners themselves. A rock hit the window, smashing glass and sending a shower of broken shards over the floor.

Maybe there was another explanation. Another witch in town. One who’d cast an insanity spell on the children. Any minute Lady Bella Rue expected worms or snakes to slither out of their bodies and crawl across the ground.

“Witch in the hollow

Die tonight.

Burn at the stake

On a Saturday night.”

She shivered even though she stood by the fire, twisting the knotted cloth at her neck as the chanting voices echoed through the window. She’d already planted mustard seed under her steps to keep the evil at bay, but the spell didn’t seem to be warding off the devil.

A siren wailed in the distance, and she moved even closer to the fireplace, warming herself as she waited on the sheriff to arrive. He had to put a stop to this. It was getting out of control.

But then, he was no saint himself.

Outside, shouts and jeers magnified by the sound of the howling wind rocked the walls. The police car squealed to a stop, and the sheriff’s voice bellowed through a bullhorn, ordering the kids to freeze.

Black-hooded figures raced into the woods, scattering in a dozen directions, disappearing into the dark forest like black bats and crows. But their evil chants hung thick in the air with the promise of more evil.

And Lady Bella Rue knew they’d be back.

A.J. RAN TOWARD A black hooded sweatshirt and tried to snag the sleeve, but the kid threw his torch down on the marshy ground, and he had to jump to miss the fire. His heart raced as his deputy chased two more kids, but they disappeared into the dense woods and the darkness swallowed them, creating a perfect hiding place.

A.J. heaved a breath, wondering if he should call in reinforcements from the city. He and Pritchard weren’t going to be able to manage the mess. Not with two women’s murders on their plate, a fire and an attempted murder tonight, and now this river cult threatening the old witch.

Head pounding from strain, he stalked to the shanty door and knocked. He’d make sure the old woman was safe, then he might have to post someone at her door. Pritchard wouldn’t be happy, but A.J. didn’t know what else to do. They had to catch these brats and end their streak of violence.

Lady Bella Rue opened the door, her wrinkled face shielded by a black scarf, the age lines sagging on her face with worry. “You couldn’t catch any of them, could you?”

He shook his head. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, her gaze shooting to the woods. In the distance, he saw the occasional flicker of a torch, but most of them had been extinguished.

“I thought they were going to burn the house down,” she said in a strained, low-pitched voice.

A.J. frowned and ran his hand through his hair. “My deputy and I will check out the woods. Why don’t you stay in town tonight?”

“I’m not letting those young’uns run me out of my home.”

“Did you recognize anyone?”

“No, it’s dark as Hades with these clouds.” She gestured toward the yard. “They tried to steal my chickens again, though. I reckon I’ll have to conjure another spell.”

“Your black magic can’t stop them,” A.J. snapped. “So use some common sense, Lady Bella Rue. You’re just inviting trouble by staying out here alone.”

“I know they’ll be back,” she said, clutching the knots at her neck. “But someone has to take a stand against the evil in this town and not give these kids so much power.”

A.J. flinched. “I’m doing the best I can. For God’s sake, old woman, there’s been two women murdered, and tonight someone tried to kill Ivy Stanton. Whoever assaulted her burned down her trailer.” The minute he muttered the admission, regret set in.

“That poor girl. She’s been through so much.” She swayed as if the wind had whistled through her bones. “The danger will only get worse. Her parents’ killers must be found if she is to live at all.”

His jaw tightened at her accusatory look.

He angled his head toward Lady Bella Rue. “I’ll have my deputy watch your place in case they return and threaten you again tonight.”

And maybe once he arrested Tommy Werth and Clete McClinton, they’d lead him to the rest of the gang.

At least stopping this cult would be a start.

But he still had to deal with the Stanton murders, the threats to Ivy, and Matt’s questions….

MATT HAD THOUGHT THE HOURS in jail dragged, but sitting beside Ivy in the hospital room seemed like an eternity. Every time he looked at her, the realization that she might have died assaulted him. He’d gladly lock himself back in jail if doing so meant sparing her life.

She was weak, floating in and out of consciousness, tormented by nightmares of the fire and her past. He didn’t know how to help her except to sit with her and pray that she finally rested.

Frustration ate at him, urging him to go out and hunt down the man who’d attacked her. He needed to question Arthur Boles. If Boles had had an affair with Lily Stanton, and had killed her, Matt would beat him until he confessed.

He leaned back in the chair beside Ivy’s bed and closed his eyes, trying to make sense of things. Could he really trust Lumbar now? And how would Matt and his mother recover from years of distrust to have a decent relationship?

Finally, exhaustion claimed him, and he drifted to sleep. But snatches of prison life haunted his troubled slumber, along with remnants of seeing Ivy’s trailer burning down, and he jerked awake every few minutes.

As the gray light of morning filtered through the thin hospital curtain, more rain pinged off the roof. Ivy stirred and opened her eyes just as a knock sounded at the door. Lady Bella Rue poked her head inside.

“Can I come in, dear?”

Ivy tried to sit up but winced, and Matt quickly situated another pillow behind her back to make her comfortable. Her color looked more normal now, although deep purple shadows darkened the ivory skin beneath her eyes.

“Yes, come in.” Her voice was still hoarse from the smoke and tinged with terror.

“I heard you were attacked yesterday, child.” Lady Bella Rue hobbled over, and Matt offered her the chair beside Ivy’s bed. He stood on the other side as if to act as guard, but not because he feared the old woman. He simply couldn’t drag himself more than a few feet from Ivy for fear of losing her. What would he do when this mess ended? Could he really walk away from her?

“The sheriff told me about the fire.”

“He did?” Ivy asked.

She nodded. “That river cult of kids visited my house last night. They had torches and were circling my place like they intended to set me on fire.”

“Oh, my gosh, Lady Bella Rue, are you okay?”

She nodded. “The sheriff run ’em off. But something has to be done to put a stop to their wickedness once and for all.”

“I don’t understand,” Ivy whispered. “Why do those teenagers want to hurt you?”

“It’s the meanness in them,” Lady Bella Rue said. “It’s been happening the last ten years. Kids turning on their families. And I’m just an easy target for their hatred.”

“All we want is to find out who killed Ivy’s parents,” Matt said. “Then we’re leaving town.” His gaze met Ivy’s, determined. Emotions flickered in her eyes, ones that confused him. Would she want to be with him afterward? Could they possibly have a future together?

His heart stumbled to a stop. Was he really contemplating the idea?

“It’s all connected somehow,” Lady Bella Rue said mysteriously. “The evil started the night your parents died, and has grown worse the past ten years. It’s as out of control as the kudzu.”

“How can everything possibly be related?” Matt asked. “Except for Ivy’s attack, the other crimes have involved teenagers. None of those kids knew Ivy or her parents. Some weren’t even born when the Stantons died.”

“All of ’em live out there near the junkyard. Most in that new subdivision with its fancy woodwork and flooring. The parents have money, but they have no time for their children, so they spoil them, and the kids get bored and rebellious,” Lady Bella Rue said. “I believe whoever killed your parents started a chain of events that must be stopped. They stirred up the devil from the ground in that area. The land must be haunted, that’s all I can figure out. Needs an exorcism of some kind.”

Matt quirked his brow at Ivy, wondering if Lady Bella Rue was really crazy or if she might have latched onto some semblance of the truth, albeit a supernatural one. No, the theory that the kids were spoiled made sense. The rest of it…impossible.

But her comment about the land nagged at the far recesses of his mind. Fifteen years ago, Ivy’s mother was supposedly selling property to an out-of-town developer. Who was that developer?

Maybe he’d better find out.

Lady Bella Rue lifted a mojo from her purse and pressed it into Ivy’s hands. “Please, dear, wear this at all times. It’s stronger than the last one I gave you, and you need it.” She paused, her expression grave. “The worst is not over for you. There is more pain and suffering to come, more loss.”

Ivy’s face paled, and Matt cleared his throat, anxious now for the old woman to leave. He didn’t like her spooking Ivy.

“And you, Mr. Mahoney,” the old woman said, “you should let go of your hatred and secrets. They will destroy you in the end.”

Matt stared at her, his jaw tight.

Revealing his secrets meant trusting. Possibly hurting Ivy more.

No, it was better she didn’t know, not about the ugly things that had happened to him in prison. And especially about Red Row…

A.J. CRAWLED FROM THE COUCH and gripped the arm for support, then staggered to the bathroom, downed three painkillers and splashed cold water on his face. The bourbon he’d had at dinner still heated his blood, but his mouth felt as if cotton balls had been jammed all the way down his throat, clear up to the top of his head.

He’d done it again. Blocked out hours.

But the events of the previous twenty-four hours rolled past. Matt’s mother’s confession. Ivy being attacked. The fire. The river cult circling Lady Bella Rue’s house.

Hunting for Tommy Werth and Trash McClinton. But the boys had hidden out somewhere, had escaped for the night, and he’d had to wait on a warrant for their houses.

So he’d stopped for a drink.

And then what had happened?

He’d found enough balls to visit his father.

Shit…their fight had tipped him right off the ledge, and he’d driven straight to the Ole Peculiar for another round.

What then? He thought he’d driven home after the bar, but maybe he’d taken a side trip to Red Row.

A fog glazed his mind, as if a plastic bag had been yanked over his head and suffocated him. How many brain cells had he lost?

He flipped on the shower, dove beneath the spray, reminding himself that he had to find and arrest those boys. The warrant should be ready by now. Damned ironic. Tommy and Clete were the same age as he and Matt had been when the Stantons were slaughtered.

A.J. had been cocky and full of himself; Matt had been angry and looking for trouble. He’d found it big time.

Guilt threatened to shatter A.J., but he shoved it back down. He and his father had done whatever necessary in order to protect themselves back then. Otherwise A.J. might have been locked up instead of Matt. A.J.’s life ruined.

He would never have survived prison.

Oh, who the hell was he kidding? His life had been ruined, anyway. He’d been stuck in this town, paying penance, indebted to his old man ever since.

And they still didn’t talk about that night.

He dragged himself from the hot water, toweled off, dressed, then drove by the diner and picked up coffee. Maybe he’d find Tommy or Clete home. First, he stopped by the Werths’, but the door was locked and there weren’t any cars in the drive or garage. He walked around the outside, but the rooms were dark, and no one appeared to be inside. He jiggled the doorknob and entered cautiously, then checked the house that appeared just as it had the last time he’d visited, as if the boy had had a party. He climbed back in his squad car and drove the short distance to the McClinton house.

Just like the Werths’, the log house was dark, but a muddy Jeep and a new pickup were parked outside, the pickup’s wheels caked thick with red mud from the river. Clete’s.

Pay dirt.

A.J. pounded on the door and hit the doorbell at the same time. Tapping his foot as he waited, he circled the house and noticed a small garden area near the woods, past Terri Lynn’s roses. He’d check it out later, but suspected the boys might be growing their own stash of dope. He walked back, pounded on the door again, then pushed on the doorknob.

“Clete, Tommy, it’s the sheriff. Let me in.”

The door jiggled, then squeaked open. They hadn’t bothered to lock it. Pretty stupid for criminals. Then again, they were
boys.

His boots screeched on the parquet flooring as he inched through the den. He kept one hand on his gun just in case. The perps who’d killed Dora Leigh and Terri Lynn were damn dangerous, and he did not want to die at the hand of a couple of vicious teenagers.