Wildly Inappropriate (30 page)

Dan glanced at Eric and Colton. They sensed bad news too, he could tell from their expressions. Colton's finger was frozen on the trigger of the screw gun in his hand. The heavy wrench Eric had been wielding clattered, bouncing around in the engine compartment when it slipped. Dan reached for a rag, deliberately wiping his hands. "My office isn't big enough for five, Reese. Hello, Glen. I wish I could say it was nice to see you." Dan yelled at the hired guys, "Take ten, fellas."

Glen Wise had brown eyes, and today they were suspiciously bright. He held out the plastic bag. It held only one item. The wide gold band looked ludicrously small in the gallon-sized bag. Dan took the bag. The ring was about sixteen millimeters wide and the polished gold was dull. Dirt caked the irregular lines carved into the surface. Before he squinted at the inscription inside, he knew it was the mate to the one Rafe had been buried wearing.
All my love, Cammie
had been the inscription inside his father's wedding band.

All my love, Rafe
this one said, the inscription made obscenely legible by the dirt filling the
finely etched lines.

Dan rubbed at the ring through the plastic, thinking of the story behind his parents' wedding bands. A young man in love, Rafe had drilled the center out of a peach pit and then carved it down to a circle to make Cammie a ring. It'd been a sort of joke—a test run, his father had called it—but she'd insisted on having that first token of his love duplicated for their wedding bands. Rafe could talk for hours about all the symbolism associated with a peach.

"Six hundred yards, would you say, Glen? All this time, she was about six hundred yards from home. On our own land."

"'Bout that, I'd guess. I'm sorry, Dan. We shoulda found her then. I can't figure it out. We searched that ravine, top to bottom, more'n once. It's gonna be a while before we get her remains back to you, though, because of that other body."

"What other body?" Eric demanded, crowding close to Dan's elbow.

Reese took up the story. "The jawbone Daisy dug up didn't belong to Cammie. Her skull was intact, but we know she was hit in the head. We're going to have to figure out who that other skeleton is, but judging from the second pelvis, it's a male. Probably African-American, based on the shape of the skull. But they were buried on top of each other. Those bones will have to be sent to Columbia, to the State Crime Lab. Gonna have to check the DNA of every bone to tell which is which, to be sure you get the right remains. We can't do that here in this county. This is reality, not television. Every murder or suspicious death in South Carolina goes through that one lab, so as you can imagine, that's a busy place. I know that don't help you much."

Colton laid the screw gun down on his workbench. Both brothers crowded to his side. Eric held out his hand. Dan blindly gave him the evidence bag.

"She didn't leave us."

Colton said nothing.

Suddenly, Dan saw Georgia in his mind. She was on the back porch in one of the rockers, watching him work to amuse Eric while she tried to console the little ones.

That was why he loved to hear Cynda's beads clicking together, Dan realized. Georgia had worn them back then, and when she'd walked through the back door in those dark, dark days immediately following Cammie's disappearance, nine-year-old Dan had had some hope that maybe the screaming would stop. She'd held Colton in one arm and Sarah in the other, rocking sometimes for hours on end. He could see the beads in her hair swinging against the rocking chair.

The small clicking sound hadn't been audible until both babies had stopped crying.

Eric handed the bag to Colton, who looked at it for a moment, then silently handed the ring to Reese.

"Anything you need from us?" Dan asked.

"We'll need you three to drop by the morgue and give us some DNA so we can make a familial match, unless you happen to have something with Cammie's DNA. Those tests will take about four months to come back." He gave the bag a tiny shake. "We'll get this back to you after the trial."

Four months.
With a vicious twist of pain, Dan understood why Grams had been upset enough to make a bad decision in order to get the money to bury her grandson. Waiting seemed like the final, unbearable insult to a senseless death.

Dan suddenly wanted to be anywhere but the shop his father had opened after he'd lost the love he believed gave him the ability to make things grow. He needed to see the orchards and the house Cammie loved.

He needed to see the woman he loved.

Glen reached into his back pocket. The corners on the old-style savings passbook were dog-eared. "Your daddy put ten thousand dollars in an account as a reward for information leadin' to Cammie's whereabouts, back in 1984. It's not much, even after twenty-eight years, but it's over twenty-three thousand dollars. I guess you'll have to decide what you want done with it, Dan."

He put the passbook in his own back pocket. "Plenty of time to worry about that." He shook both cops' hands. "Thank you." To his brothers, standing side-by-side, wearing matching expressions of pain, anger, and disbelief, all he could say was, "We'll talk later. Let the hired guys close up if you want." He felt as though he'd spent his entire life trying to comfort them or make up to them for Cammie's loss. Right now, he just didn't have it in him to do it again.

Snatching his keys off the hook over his workbench, Dan turned his back on his brothers and strode out the back door of the shop.

"Dan, wait!"

Reluctantly, he paused. Colton jogged to his truck.

"We'll talk later," Dan said gruffly, sliding into the seat. "Talk to Eric, Colton. Right now, I just wanna get home."

Colton looked over his shoulder. "Yeah, I wanna get home too. I feel bad for E, though. He's talked himself into hating her. That's gonna hurt real bad when the shock wears off. Mark my words, he'll be the one needing an intervention."

"Maybe he can start learning how to trust now." Dan slammed his door, cranked the big engine and spun the wheel hard, his tires squealing in his rush to get to the farmhouse, where, God willing, Cynda would be waiting. He saw Reese's sedan in his rearview when he pulled out into the traffic on the highway, but he didn't give a damn, shoving his foot down on the pedal.

He pulled in behind the faded silver Volkswagen, the sight of it easing the ache in his breast just enough so that he could breathe. Then he noticed the shiny new Jaguar sedan King had been driving last Friday when he came to talk about buying the same piece of land where Cammie's body had been dumped. He didn't like the fact that the loan shark had come here, rather than the garage, during work hours. Flinging open the door to the truck, Dan grabbed Rafe's old Beretta, thinking about the unsavory things Reese had said.

Leaving his truck door open, Dan dashed across the yard. Daisy bounded out of the garden. She began to bark and raced past him, leaping to the porch, eschewing the steps. The back door was ajar. He kneed Daisy aside and stepped quietly into the kitchen, closing the door to keep the dog outside. The setter was raising hell, alternating barks with howls and clawing at the screen.

"You thinkin' now that you got some white man ridin' that ass, you too good to suck a black dick?"

He smiled grimly when he heard Cynda's answer, but his heart went cold when her terrified scream echoed through the farmhouse. He pulled back the slide on the Beretta, sending a round into the chamber, thoughts of Cammie and Sarah and the violent way both their lives had ended steadying his movements. Stepping into the hall, he saw Cynda on her knees in the very spot where they'd made love. Tears streaked her face and she was shaking her head. Dazza's slap caught her right across the cheekbone. The loan shark's pants were around his ankles and he was shoving his cock past Cynda's lips as she sobbed. Dan raised the gun, looking down the gun's sight with the same amount of feeling he'd had for the rabid raccoon while he figured out where he wanted to place his shot. The report sounded loud inside the house. The nine millimeter shell bored a small hole in the man's shirt just below his arm.
Right into his heart
, Dan thought with satisfaction.

"Daniel!" The masculine cry came from the kitchen.

"In the hall, Reese." Dan waited, impatiently begrudging the few seconds it took for the sheriff's deputy to reach his side. He laid the Beretta in the detective's hand and stepped over King's body to lift Cynda off the floor.

"Are you okay?" he demanded, half deafened by the shot. "Please be okay. Did he hurt you, sugar?"

She flung her arms around him. "Oh, Lord, Daniel, I was so scared. He tried to—"

Dan pressed his lips to hers, refusing to let the hateful words out. Her arms tightened around him. She pulled away from the kiss and hid her face against his neck. Her tears were hot on his skin.

"I heard him. I saw what he did. Shh, sugar, it's okay. I've got you, Cynda. You're safe now." He'd been too young to save his mother, too far away to save his sister, but he knew he'd never regret saving the woman he loved.

Reese knelt beside King, pressing his fingers against the man's throat. He looked up at them, his blue eyes sober. "He's dead, Dan."

"Good." Dan strode down the hall, through the parlor, and into his office, taking her away from the sightless man who'd tried to turn a lady into a whore and failed.

That sin was his.

Chapter Twenty-Three

To Cynda's dismay, Daniel had been taken into custody by the sheriff, but not before he called Eric, insisting his middle brother come get her and take her to the cabin. At first, in her daze, she'd wondered why he hadn't called Colton so she could be with Lila, but then she realized school started in the morning. His selection of Eric rather than Colton seemed to Cynda to be another instance of Daniel looking out for his family's welfare, even under arrest. It hadn't mattered, since Lila, Colton, and Jonah had come by Eric's cabin to drop off dinner and stayed once they'd heard about the shooting. Colton had immediately driven to the sheriff's department to wait for news about Daniel.

"That's what happened to my mom. Some random guy killed her for her car. I'm glad Uncle Dan shot the man who tried to hurt you," Jonah burst out.

Cynda hadn't known how Sarah had died. Sharing a stricken look with Lila, they took turns hugging the young man. Comforting him seemed to help Cynda calm down.

"I wish Uncle D had been there that night mom stopped for gas."

So did Daniel, she could bet. "Was he in the car with her?" Cynda whispered to Lila, horrified by the thought the child had seen his mother killed.

"No, he was with a neighbor," Lila whispered back, to Cynda's relief. "I'm so glad you weren't hurt," the older woman added, putting one arm around Cynda and the other around Jonah.

"I should've locked the door behind me."

"Don't do that," Lila begged. "Don't blame yourself. That's supposed to be the trade-off, you know? In return for foregoing all the excitement of the big city, we should be able to leave our back doors open. When I sold my house, Colton had to install a new lock on mine. I had no idea where that key was. I don't think I locked it once in the seventeen years I lived there."

"Can't believe this happened today, on top of finally finding Mom," Eric said, his handsome face more serious than she'd ever seen him look.

"Oh no! I didn't know that," Cynda cried. "The bone Daisy found? That was Cammie's?"

Eric's explanation that there were two skeletons buried together seemed to render Lila's opinions about unlocked back doors moot. "Lila, this is why you've got to start listening to Colton," Eric scolded. "Cynda, when you officially assume your nanny duties at her place, make the woman lock the damn doors."

"I can't very well lock the doors at the shop, Eric," Lila pointed out.

"Hell yes, you can. I'm gonna install a buzzer and a video camera, so you can see who's at the shop door before you unlock it," Eric vowed.

Cynda could tell Lila was about to argue, but when Jonah said, "That sounds like a real good idea. Can I help you do it, Uncle E?" she saw surrender in the other woman's eyes.

Eric also explained the delay they were facing about burying Cammie's remains. "She's been gone almost three decades. We don't have anything with her DNA, so they'll have to do the other kind of test, using our DNA."

"Oh, yes you do. There's hair belonging to her, I'd bet anything, in a little dish in the attic. I couldn't figure out why she'd save her hair, though." She described the small china bowl with a large hole in the lid.

"Hair receiver," Lila stated. "Women used to save their hair as it fell out, to make all kinds of things. Pincushions, sometimes, but mainly they made what my grandmother called a 'rat', a form to add bulk to a hairstyle. It was popular in Victorian times, with those elaborate hairdos. Not a clue why she'd have saved hair in the eighties, though."

"She made little braids out of it, to pin around when she wore her hair up. Dad used to brush her hair. That's the most vivid memory I have of her, watching her sitting in front of her vanity while he ran a brush through all that hair. It hung well past her waist and he brushed it every night. We'd sit on the floor at her feet and she'd make up stories to tell us, but when he finished, me and Dan knew it was bedtime, no exceptions. After she disappeared," his voice became choked, "Dad would sit on that bench and look in that jar, or open her perfume and smell it. Daniel and I finally moved that piece and all her knickknacks into the attic, because after he sat there and made himself real sad, he'd get drunk. I'd forgotten about that."

The topic soon bored Jonah. He began playing one of Eric's video games.

Cynda suspected Eric wanted to go with Colton, but at the same time, he seemed to take his older brother's instruction to "look after her" to heart. He didn't once sit down, pacing from her chair to the door and back, as though he expected armed hordes to come and try to steal her away. He even ate the meal Lila brought him standing up.