CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Dixie and I met Bill in front of Tommy Kilpatrick’s house a few minutes after seven. Tommy was under the impression we were coming over to bring his photo to him and film his reaction to it. He was eager for his fifteen minutes of fame.
Little did he know, he already had it.
When we knocked on the front door, Tommy yelled out, “Come on in!”
We found him in his worn La-Z-Boy recliner watching a baseball game on TV.
“Hey, Tommy,” I said. Bill was already filming the scene from the doorway. “I brought you that photo for your sister. In fact”—I glanced back at Dixie, and her lips twitched with a grin as she gave me an encouraging nod—“I brought one for you too.”
“No shit!” he said, reaching for it. “That’s a damn good photo. I’m looking pretty buff.”
I cringed but said, “You definitely are!”
In the photo we’d selected, I was flung over his shoulder with my butt looking as wide as an 18-wheeler due to the angle, but he was wearing a goofy grin. Whatever it took.
I still doubted I would get him to sell me anything on camera, but Bill said he thought he could work around it. Our ploy was to play up the photo first.
“I signed the one for your sister,” I said, plopping down on the sofa next to him without an invitation, “but I waited to see if you wanted anything special on yours.”
Dixie sat down beside me while Bill kept filming.
“Oh,” Tommy said, looking up. “How about ‘To Tommy: You’re a muscleman rock star. Love, Summer’? Then you can add those Xs and O things.”
Dixie leaned into my ear. “He’s starting to remind me of your stalker.”
I shot her a grimace. No kidding. But I uncapped the black marker in my hand and signed the message he’d requested. When I handed it over to him, I said, “Hey, you got any beers, Tommy?”
He gave me a hesitant look. “Yeah. In the fridge.”
“Mind if I get one?”
“Sure,” he said, his eyes widening, surprised that we were staying. “Your friend can have one too.”
I stood and glanced at Dixie, but she shook head. “Nothing for me.”
I left the room and went into the kitchen, which was separated from the living room by a three-foot opening. I started opening cabinet doors, looking for any drugs that might be tucked away, prepared to use the excuse that I’d decided to get Dixie a glass of water. I found a shelf full of pill bottles, but most seemed benign enough—over-the-counter pain relievers, antacids, a box of Band-Aids, and a nearly empty pill bottle for Tylenol with codeine. No OxyContin and no Xanax. Either Christina had sent me on a wild-goose chase, or Tommy kept the good stuff somewhere else. I opened the refrigerator and called out, “Tommy, you want one?”
“Yeah, sure!” was his excited response.
I grabbed two cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon (God help my taste buds), filled a glass with water, then picked up all three drinks and headed back to the living room. I handed Dixie her water first—she gave me a weird look since she hadn’t asked for it—then gave Tommy one of the beers.
Tommy pointed to Bill. “I’m glad you’re getting this on tape because no one’s gonna believe Summer Butler just got me a beer.”
I plastered a cheesy grin on my face. “I bet.”
We drank our beers while he watched the Braves play the Pirates in near silence. Talk about a fun date. Still, I couldn’t just jump into the next part. I had to butter him up first, although this seemed like a questionable way of buttering anyone up.
“Say, Tommy,” I finally said out of desperation, “what do y’all do for fun here nowadays?”
“Christina texted and said you were gonna drop by to get some Oxy.”
I sat in stunned silence for a few seconds. I’d sat through fifteen minutes of utter boredom for no reason—all I’d had to do was ask.
“Do you have any?”
“Yeah. Those muscle relaxers Dr. Livingston gave me ain’t enough to cut the pain, so I got some to help out. She said you might want some Xanax too. I’ve only got one of those.”
And here was my shot.
“Really? I was hopin’ you’d have more. This show has me on edge. My prescription’s out, and I’m out of my other recreational pharmaceuticals. Do you think you could hook me up with your source, so I could get it directly from him?”
“I don’t know,” he said with a grimace. “I used to get it from Ed Reynolds, and I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but he’s . . .” He made a slashing motion across his throat, complete with a weird sound effect.
“So what do you do now?” Dixie asked.
“I got a text from the new supplier this morning. He said to text him if I needed anything.”
If I could ID Tommy’s new supplier, then I might have a chance of cracking this whole thing wide-open.
“Do you think you could give me his number?” I asked. “Do you have his name?”
“No name. Just a number.” He pulled out his phone, tinkered with it for a few seconds, and then rattled off a number. I entered it and read it back to him to make sure I’d gotten it right. I really didn’t want to come back.
My phone rang, and I saw Luke’s name on the screen. I hit “Ignore” and looked back up at him. “You know, Tommy, that was a call from our next appointment. Maybe we can come back some other time and hang out.”
“Don’t you want the pills?”
“It sounds like you need them more than I do. I’ll try to get some from your new supplier.”
“Okay,” he said, his gaze firmly fixed on the TV.
I gave him a small wave. “Thanks for the beer. And the number.”
“Yeah,” he said with a grin.
Dixie, Bill, and I all walked out onto street, and once we were clear of the house, Dixie said, “I can’t believe he just gave you that number. And on camera.”
Bill shrugged. “People forget and say all kinds of things you don’t think they’ll say.”
Dixie turned to me. “Do you think the number is a setup?”
I thought for a moment. “I doubt Tommy’s capable of much deception. He seems like a typical stoner, don’t you think? Kind of absentminded but chill.”
“I guess.”
I pulled out my phone even though my hands were shaking with nerves. “I think I’ll send a request for ten Xanax and ask how much.”
Bill and Dixie both stared at me.
“What? Too much? Too little?”
Bill shook his head. “This is getting dangerous, Summer.”
“We knew that going in.”
“Maybe we should reconsider.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I need this show to succeed, and if we can solve this case, the show’s guaranteed to be a success with all the video we’ve got.” Not to mention that I had to prove Teddy wasn’t part of this—and I desperately needed to give Lauren a reason not to pull out Dixie’s arrest.
“But, Summer . . .” Dixie’s voice trailed off as I quickly typed out a text.
I need ten Xanax, and I hear you’re the new source. Can we work out a deal?
I hit “Send” before I could change my mind. “Too late to protest now.”
We spent the next full minute staring at my phone. All of us jumped when it started to ring,
“Oh, God,” Dixie said, stumbling back into the trunk of Bill’s car.
I looked at the screen and felt slightly relieved. “It’s Teddy.”
I answered, walking toward the front of the truck to put some distance between Dixie and me. “What’s goin’ on, Teddy?” I asked in a direct voice. “What are you mixed up in?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m not stupid, and I’m starting to piece things together.”
“Again, what are you talking about?”
“Luke wants to see you. He says you’re a person of interest in Ed Reynolds’s murder.”
“He told you that?”
“He says they found the murder weapon, and your fingerprints are all over it.”
“They have my gun.”
“What? How did they get it? Does it have anything to do with the break-in?”
He didn’t answer.
“Teddy!”
“Do you think I killed Ed Reynolds?” he asked in a low voice.
“No! But I’m waiting to hear your explanation.”
“So you think it’s a possibility?”
“No. I think you’re being framed, but I want to know what’s goin’ on.” It was the only explanation that made sense to me, and having recently been framed myself, I knew how easy it could be to make someone look guilty.
He didn’t respond.
“Teddy!”
“I can’t tell you, Summy. Not yet.”
“When?”
“A few days. And please, for the love of all that’s holy, I need you to stay away from Luke.”
“Why? I’m not gonna tell him anything. But maybe you should talk to him.”
“No. God, no. I don’t trust him, and he’s using you to try to get to me. Please, make me feel better and promise you’ll stay away from him.”
“You’re scaring me, Teddy. Who’s framing you?”
“I’m not sure yet, but I’m soon to find out.” I heard several voices behind him, but the sound was too muffled for me to make out any words. “I’ve got to go. I won’t be home until late. Lock all the doors, and tell Dixie to make sure her gun is loaded.”
Then he hung up.
I was surprised that Dixie was still standing by Bill’s car, wearing a serious expression.
My phone buzzed with a text from the number I’d texted.
Call and leave a message.
My face must have betrayed how I felt.
“What?” Dixie asked. I showed her and Bill the message—and then called the number before they could stop me. Bill had pulled out his camera again and was filming before I got the computer-generated voice-mail message.
“Hi,” I said, thankful my voice wasn’t as shaky as my hand. “I’m calling about the transaction I texted about.” It didn’t seem smart to leave a voice mail asking for Xanax. “I’ve run out of my personal stash, so I’ll pay extra if I can get it tonight.” Then, unsure of what else to say, I added, “Thanks.”
After I hung up, I glanced at Dixie and Bill. Dixie had an I-can’t-believe-you-did-that expression. Bill looked grim as he lowered the camera.
“I don’t think you should do this, Summer,” Dixie said, wringing her hands. “He’s bound to know who you are and that you’re filming a show. The last thing these people will want is publicity. Three men are dead. I don’t want you to be next.”
Bill didn’t say anything, but the fear in his eyes confirmed he felt the same way.
“Too late now,” I said, more flippantly than I felt. “It’s already done.” But I wasn’t feeling so brave either, so I added, “He might not even call or text me back.” I felt like a traitor for hoping that was the case.
We stood around for ten more minutes waiting for a response, and when I hadn’t heard anything, I finally called it. “We’ll try to come up with another lead tomorrow. Maybe we can figure out where Otto used to hide out for days at a time. Gretchen mentioned he used to go fishing at a creek. I can call her and find out where he went.”
“Good idea,” Bill said with a big yawn. “I need to dump all the video anyway. See you girls tomorrow.”
Dixie and I headed back to the farm, and we caught an earful from Meemaw for failing to inform her we’d be late.
“I just washed all the table linens for spring cleaning,” Meemaw said with frown. “So you girls can iron them all.” She pointed to an overflowing basket of white tablecloths and napkins.
Dixie gritted her teeth and gave me a look that suggested she really wanted to tell Meemaw no, but we both realized this was our punishment. Better to just get it over with while we watched TV.
We were halfway through the basket—me ironing and Dixie folding—when my phone rang.
I started and dropped my iron on the ironing board. Crap. I was completely unprepared to chat with a drug dealer/possible murderer, but my heart sped up when I saw Luke’s name on the screen. After how he’d behaved, I absolutely should not be this excited to talk with him.
I answered. “Did you get all those grits washed out of your hair, Luke?”
The worried expression on Dixie’s face turned to a grin. She was going to want that story later. Of course, it was probably all over that Facebook page.
“Turns out grits are a pretty good conditioner,” he said with a smile in his voice. “I know it’s late, but can I come out to the farm to talk to you?”
My traitorous heart skipped a beat. “I guess it depends on why you’re plannin’ on comin’.”
“I don’t like how we left things. I didn’t express my real intentions well.”
I knew I should tell him no, but my heart ached just from talking to him. Still, I couldn’t forget that he was trying to pin a murder on my cousin. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Please.”
“Okay.” God, I was so weak.
“I’ll be there in about ten minutes.” He hung up quickly, as if he knew I was already questioning my decision.
“I have ten minutes before Luke’s gonna show up to talk to me, so we need to get as much ironing done as possible.”
Dixie just gave me a knowing grin. About five minutes later, my phone dinged with a text. I expected it to be Luke, but it was from my mystery number.
Be at the Jackhammer in fifteen minutes. Come alone.
Oh, shit. This was happening.
“Dixie.” I held out the phone to her. “How long will it take to get out there?”
“Fifteen minutes.”
“Crap.” I picked up my purse. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Not without me,” she protested.
“The text says come alone. I’m not risking you, or the chance to find out what’s goin’ on.”
“What about Bill?”
“No. I’ll use my phone.” I headed out the front door toward the truck.
“But Luke’s coming to the farm!”
Dammit. “Tell him I decided I didn’t want to see him.” I hopped in the truck, wasting no time driving out to the county road. Thankfully, I didn’t pass Luke. He definitely would have followed. I glanced at the time on my phone—9:55 p.m.
I’d never been to the Jackhammer before, but I wasn’t surprised to see the parking lot full of pickup trucks and older cars. I was really going to stick out here in my dress—Meemaw hadn’t let me change before saddling Dixie and me with our endless chore. Maybe that was for the best. There’d be more witnesses paying attention to me if the mystery texter tried anything.
I pulled up my recording app and turned it on. I had no idea what was going to happen, but I wanted to have some sort of record of it. If things went south, I’d ditch my phone and hopefully someone would find it.
I walked in, surprised and pleased to see how many women were here. The banner declaring it LADIES NIGHT $1 DRAFTS explained it. I walked straight up to the bar, found an empty stool, and took my perch so I could scan the room. I had no idea whom I was looking for, but it didn’t hurt to check. There was no one sinister-looking here, just a bunch of hardworking people letting off steam.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.
I flashed him a smile. “A draft beer, of course.”
“Hey,” he said, “I know you. You’re Summer Butler. Can you do that thing?”
I resisted the urge to groan, and instead cocked my head. “What thing?”
“You know. The Gotcha! thing.”
I felt someone walk up behind me, and a male voice said, “Come on, Austin. The lady’s takin’ a night off. Get her beer and let her enjoy it in peace.”
The bartender frowned and walked off to get my drink while the man behind me slid in between me and the guy next to me. He looked to be close to my age—late twenties or early thirties. He was tall and filled out the T-shirt he was wearing quite nicely.
“Thanks,” I said, my palms turning clammy. Was this my date? If so, he wasn’t anything like I’d expected. The grin on his face was downright playful.
“You here alone?” he asked, looking around. He lowered his gaze to my chest before lifting it to my face. “No friends with you?”
Okay, so maybe he wasn’t as nice as I’d initially thought.
“I’m here to enjoy my night off,” I said, throwing his words back at him. “Just like everyone else.”
His grin stretched a little wider. “Darlin’, you are nothin’ like everyone else here.”
The bartender placed the glass in front me. “That’ll be a dollar.”
I reached into my purse to get my wallet, but my new friend was already putting money on the counter. “I’m paying for the lady, Austin, and get me another.”
“I thought you were goin’ home, Rebel.”
Rebel continued grinning like an idiot. “I just changed my mind.”
It was becoming increasingly clear he wasn’t the man I’d arranged to meet, so I gave him a sassy look as I slapped several ones down on the counter. “Don’t go changin’ your plans on my account.”
Austin the bartender laughed, but Rebel looked less amused.
I picked up my glass and moved to a stool farther down the bar, hoping Rebel would get the hint and leave me alone. I needed to be unencumbered so the mystery texter could approach me. I took a sip of the beer to ease my nerves. I was terrified the texter would follow through, and terrified he wouldn’t. I checked my phone to see if he’d sent another message. Nothing.
“I can appreciate a girl who plays hard to get,” Rebel said, sidling up to me again. “I can be persistent.”
I looked up into his face. “Look, I want to be nice, but you’re makin’ that difficult. I’ve had a really bad day, and I’d like to sit here alone and enjoy my beer.”
He leaned his elbow on the counter. “I can make it a whole lot better.”
I sighed. “Let me make this perfectly clear,” I said in a firm voice. “I’m not interested.”
An ugly expression washed over his face. “You think you’re too good for me, bitch?”
I’d been through this more times than I could count, and while it could be humiliating and sometimes downright scary, I knew the best way to deal with a guy like Rebel was to stay calm. And if that didn’t work, the pepper spray in my purse would do the trick. The only thorn in this plan was my current bad attitude.
Looking him in the eye, I said with plenty of attitude, “It doesn’t matter what I think. All you need to hear is the word no and then go on about your business.”
“You’re just a washed-up TV-show-actress-turned-slut. You should be lucky I’m even interested in you.”
“If I’m so nasty, why did you approach me in the first place?” I shot back against my better judgment. “What does that say about your standards?”
It was pretty mild as far as insults went, so I wasn’t expecting it when he lifted his hand to hit me, leaving me little time to grab my pepper spray. I’d just gotten ahold of it when I saw a hand seize Rebel’s wrist from behind and jerk him backward.
Luke spun him around and shoved him toward the door. “Get the hell out of here, Rebel, before I beat your ass!”
“Your badge doesn’t work here, Montgomery,” Rebel sneered, his hands balled into fists.
“Which is why I’m free to beat the shit out of you. So either leave now or I’m calling the sheriff.”
“Word has it you and the sheriff’s department aren’t the best of friends.”
“My relationship with the sheriff’s department has no bearing on the fact I stopped you from physically assaulting one of Rudy’s clients.”
“She’s not worth my time. Since when were you interested in my leftovers, Montgomery? But hey, you’re welcome to that dried-up piece of—”
Rebel didn’t finish his sentence because Luke punched him in the jaw hard enough to send him reeling backward.
Rebel regained his footing and launched himself at Luke, landing punches on his face and in his gut.
Luke got in another swing before a big man stepped out from around the bar, carrying a baseball bat, although the size of him was impressive enough. “Knock it off.” His voice boomed through the entire bar, and everyone fell silent.
The man turned to Rebel. “Were you about to hit a woman?”
That ugly look stole over Rebel’s face again. “The bitch thinks she’s too good for me.”
Rudy shot a quick glance at me, then shifted his gaze back to Rebel. “That’s because she is, you asshole. Now get the hell out before I put a knot on your head the size of a baseball.”
Rebel spun around and stormed out the door as Rudy turned his attention to Luke. “And what’s your excuse? You’re the one I count on to keep a level head.”
“He insulted Summer.”
Rudy’s mouth quirked into a grin as he got a better look at me. “Summer Butler?” He waved a hand. “Rebel’s lucky he still has all his teeth. Go get cleaned up.”
I gasped, still in shock, when Luke pushed past me. He had a bloody nose. “Luke.” I reached for him, but he continued on toward the bathroom. Before he slipped out of sight, he twisted around and pointed at me, grunting, “Don’t you dare leave!”
I almost told him off, but the sight of his bloody face stopped me.
“That boy’s got it bad for you,” Rudy said, standing next to me and watching Luke duck into the bathroom.
“Luke?”
Rudy laughed and shook his head. “I’ve known that boy since I coached him on the middle-school football team. I’ve only ever seen him get into three fights, and all of them were over you.”
“Wait,” I said, looking up at him. “This was the only time I ever saw him get into a fight.”
He simply grinned.
“When? In high school?”
“One of ’em.”
“When was the other?”
“About a year ago.”
“Over what?”
“Someone besmirchin’ your reputation.”
“He told me he only wanted a fling,” I said. Not the sort of thing I’d normally share with a stranger, but I was totally caught off guard. Luke had acted like he straight-up hated me a few days ago.
Rudy laughed. “That’s a good one.” Then he scanned the crowd. “Fight’s over. Get back to drinkin’.”
Luke came back out a minute later. His face was cleaned up, but his left eye was swelling. Anger washed over his face as he stopped in front of me and glared down at me. “Do you cause trouble everywhere you go? Why did you leave Sweet Briar?”
“I had my reasons.” Which surely had been blown to smithereens by now. My presence had led to a bar fight and the appearance of a police officer. There was no way the mystery texter was showing himself.
“Here I thought I was protecting you from Sebastian Jenkins, not Rebel Lancing.”
“I could have handled it. I have pepper spray.”
“Like that was gonna stop Rebel Lancing.” He grabbed my elbow. “Let’s go.”
“What?” I took a step backward. “You punch a guy for me and suddenly you’re my keeper? How about a please?”
He shook his head. “Dammit, Summer. Will you please leave with me now?”
“Fine, but I want you to know that I planned to leave anyway.”
He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. He followed me into the parking lot and walked me to my truck.
“Who were you planning to meet?” he asked.
“I told you—I just wanted a drink.”
“That’s bullshit, and we both know it. And why did you park your truck practically behind the building? You could have been attacked.”
“Again . . . I have pepper spray.”
He opened my truck door. “Pepper spray’s no match for bullets, Summer.”
“No one’s gonna shoot me.” I hoped so anyway. There was no denying I was on the trail of a murderer who’d killed at least two people with a gun.
His face softened, and he lifted his hand to my face. “You scared the shit out of me again.”
“And here I thought you were in the bathroom cleaning up your bloody nose.”
“I’m serious.”
He ran his fingers down my cheek and the slope of my chin, spreading a trail of warmth, and the tension shifted between us, going from anger to desire.
“I’m fine. I’m safe,” I whispered as I rested my palm on his chest and stared up into his troubled eyes. “I’m here.”
I was here, and I wanted him. Why was I fighting this? Despite what he’d said, it was obvious neither of us wanted a one-night stand.
I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him—gentle at first, just my lips brushing his. He was so still I started to worry I’d read him wrong, but then it was like I’d roused a sleeping lion. Within seconds, he took over, pushing my back against the side of the truck as his mouth ravaged mine. I wrapped a hand behind his head, pulling him closer as our tongues tangled.
His hand slid down to my bottom, and he lifted me up and onto the truck seat. His mouth skimmed my neck and made a trail of kisses down to the scooped neckline of my dress while his hand slid under the fabric and traced the outside of my thigh.
A shiver ran through me as his hand inched higher.
I reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head, then gasped when I saw his bare chest. Luke had always looked impressive without a shirt, but he’d definitely filled out since we were teenagers. I leaned over and kissed him with twelve years’ worth of restrained passion. His hand found the edge of my panties, and I groaned as my body came alive.
But just as quickly, he took two steps back. “Summer, we have to stop.”
I gawked at him, trying to come to my senses.
“This might be the back of the parking lot, but we can’t do this here. I can’t do this here. I’m the damned chief of police. I can’t get arrested for indecent exposure and lewd acts, and you definitely can’t. Not to mention cameras.”
He was right, of course, but that didn’t quell my disappointment.
“Come home with me.”
“Now?”
He laughed. “I’m not inviting you over for dinner, although on second thought, maybe I should feed you since I interrupted your meal earlier.” Then he moved closer and kissed me again. “Come home with me.”
“You’re not playing fair. I have to be at work at eight,” I murmured as his mouth skimmed down my neck, setting me on fire again.
“You don’t have to spend the night.”
I leaned back and shoved on his chest. “So this is just a booty call?” I asked, getting pissed all over again.
He snaked an arm around my back, keeping me close. “This is whatever you want it to be. You can spend the night. You can leave. This can last as long as you want, because you’re in control. I just want what I can get.”
He kissed me again, making me lose all reason.
The vibration of my cell phone caught my attention. I broke away to check the screen. “It’s Dixie. I have to get it.”
“I’m sorry,” she said as soon as I answered. “He made me tell him.”
So that was how Luke had found me. Stupid me—I hadn’t even considered why he’d shown up. “I’m fine. I’ll be home soon.”
“Okay.”
“You’re goin’ home,” Luke said softly as I put my phone on the seat.
“I want this, Luke. I do. Maybe a little too much.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m scared to get hurt again. And I’m scared of hurting you. I’m not sure what I’m doin’ when this show is done filmin’.”
“So you want to forget this happened?”
“No, I just want to slow it down. We are different people from who we were before—we’ve both done some growin’ up. I want to get to know the Luke you’ve grown into.” I gave him an apologetic smile. “Are you mad? I kind of started all of this by kissin’ you.”
A warm smile spread across his face. “Mad? Why would I be mad, Summer? You’re giving us a shot. You set the rules, I’ll follow your lead.”
“Thanks.”
He kissed me again, then pushed my legs into the truck. “I’m gonna follow you home.”
Part of me was glad. What if my mystery texter had followed me home instead?