Twelve
It took an hour for Dallas to calm down enough to get back to exploring her father’s room, and a couple of hours more to go through all the boxes. She found interesting things, but nothing that shouted “money.” The only thing on the desk, besides a cup of pens and pencils and a pad of paper, was a small stack of books with diverse subject matter ranging from dousing for water to raising ginseng. At first curious as to why he would have such a strange assortment of books, she soon realized why he’d kept them.
The names on the flyleaves belonged to members of the very first Phillipses who’d claimed the land and built this house. These weren’t only antique editions but family heirlooms. She put them back the way she’d found them and kept on searching.
It was after 2:00 p.m. when she ended her search with no more answers than when she’d started. She’d skipped lunch and her belly was growling, but instead of making herself something to eat, she grabbed a cold can of Dr Pepper and a handful of peanuts, and headed for the porch swing out back.
The day was clear, the sky more white than blue. She ate the peanuts one at a time, taking joy in hearing the crunch every time she bit down. And as she ate she swung, satisfied in the moment and grateful for the sound of the creaking chain.
When her phone vibrated, she quickly grabbed it, guessing the text would be from Trey, and it was.
Just making sure you’re okay. Do you need anything? I need you.
Her smile stilled. The past few days had given her a whole new perspective on what mattered. He had never denied his feelings, and he’d never quit on her. She reread the message and then sent him one back.
I’m fine. I cannot lie. I need you, too.
He fired back an answer so fast it made her laugh.
Tonight. You. Me. Dinner in Mystic.
Deal. Me. You. A night on the town.
The little heart he sent back made her smile.
She took the phone off vibrate and dropped it back in her pocket, then finished off her pop. She had a hot date and her hair was a mess, but doing it herself wasn’t happening when she could only raise one arm above her head. She thought of the Triple C Salon and went into the house to get the phone book. She’d gone to school with the owner. Maybe someone there could work her in.
* * *
The Triple C Hair Salon—the Cs stood for curl, cut and color—was a red metal building between a small boutique and a bakery just off Main Street. Dallas had made the call with some difficulty and finally had to ask them to shout so she could hear, but they’d assured her they would work her in as soon as she arrived, so she’d headed for town.
She didn’t tell Trey. He would have insisted on taking her himself. But she didn’t need a babysitter. She just needed a hairdo and a little more time to get well.
She took the backstreets into town, hoping Trey wouldn’t see her, and parked in front of the salon. Someone honked as she got out. She barely heard it but turned to look. An old friend from church waved as she drove past. Dallas started to wave and then winced. She’d horsed around enough today; she needed to ease back and give her body time to heal.
As soon as she walked into the salon she was inundated with greetings and condolences, most of which she barely heard. It was apparent that voices were going to be tricky.
Bonnie Glass, the owner, met Dallas at the door. Dallas quickly explained why she was there.
“Thanks for taking me on such short notice, but today is the first day since the dog attacked me that I’ve been able to hear anything, though what I hear is faint. My shoulder is really sore, too sore for me to do my own hair. It’s a mess, and I need help.”
Bonnie ran her fingers through the strands, then raised her voice and spoke slowly and distinctly.
“What you need is a good shampoo and a little styling. Your cut is great. Okay?”
Dallas smiled. “Yes, very okay.”
“Then come with me and I’ll get you started,” Bonnie said.
It took a few minutes and some extra padding behind Dallas’s shoulder so she could lean back in the chair at the shampoo station, but Bonnie finally began.
Relaxing beneath the gentle massage of Bonnie’s fingers as she soaped and then rinsed, Dallas felt the first twinge of normalcy since the day she’d come back home.
It wasn’t until Bonnie seated her in the styling chair that she spoke to Dallas again.
“Before we begin, I want to tell you how sorry I was to hear of what happened to your daddy. I can’t imagine the shock of something like that, and I wish you grace and peace.”
Dallas knew she was referring to what everyone still assumed was a suicide. Today seemed like a good day to rearrange that story.
“Thank you, Bonnie, but I won’t find peace until they find Daddy’s killer.”
Bonnie froze, then met Dallas’s gaze in the mirror in front of them. “Killer? But I thought—”
“Suicide? Oh, no! I never bought that story,” Dallas said. “That wasn’t my daddy’s style, and it seems I was right. The sheriff contacted Trey yesterday to tell him that they’ve ruled Dad’s death a homicide. They’re already investigating.”
“Oh, my God! Murder! How did they know? I mean—”
“Without going into details, I’ll just say it was the coroner’s findings that proved I was right.”
Everyone in the hair salon had been listening, and now the shock of Dallas’s revelation rolled through the room. Someone in their midst was a killer! The cell phones came out and the texts began flying. It wouldn’t take long for word to get out, which was fine with Dallas. Somewhere there was a killer thinking he’d got away with murder. He was about to learn he’d made a costly mistake.
By the time Dallas left the hair salon, she looked like her on-camera self. She got in the car and quickly left town, unwilling to reveal the news that her hearing had returned to Trey until she was back on her own territory.
* * *
Trey and Earl were on their way to serve a protection order against a guy named Joe Hanson. Trey had grown up with Joe and was saddened by the turn his life had taken.
When they drove up to the auto repair shop where he worked, they both got out. Sometimes people didn’t take to being served and tried to cause trouble. In the police business, it was always better safe than sorry.
Both bay doors were open and cars were up on all three racks. Trey saw Joe at the far end of the garage.
“He’s down at the third car,” he said, and started walking with Earl beside him.
“Think he’ll cause trouble?” Earl asked.
“If he’s been drinking, maybe,” Trey said. “Just pay attention.”
Earl nodded.
“Hey, Joe, got a minute?” Trey called out.
Joe Hanson turned around, and the minute he saw Trey’s face, he visibly paled.
“Yeah, what’s up?” Joe said, and grabbed a rag to wipe the oil off his hands.
“This is for you,” Trey said, and handed Joe the order. “You’ve just been served, so consider this as serious as it seems. If you violate this order, not only will you get arrested, but you will go to jail.”
Joe scanned the paper quickly and then looked up at Trey in disbelief.
“Julie did this? This means I can’t go home. I can’t see her. I can’t talk to her. I can’t even put my boy to sleep at night?”
“That’s what it means,” Trey said.
Anger flashed behind Joe’s pain. “What the hell? How does she get off pulling something like this?”
“You broke her nose. You fractured her cheekbone. She has to have reconstructive surgery, you jackass. She’s afraid of you now. This is what happens when you beat the hell out of your wife every night, and don’t deny it. You’re not fooling anyone.”
Joe flinched as if he’d just been slapped. “I don’t mean to. I just—”
Trey handed him a card and a flyer.
“These are the times and locations of A.A. meetings in the area. Go. Quit drinking. Get your act together. You’re better than this.”
Joe started to cry, but Trey ignored it.
“Julie asked me to tell you that she’s packed a couple of suitcases with your clothes. They’re at your mom’s house. She’s expecting you.”
Joe frowned. “My mom? I’m twenty-seven years old. I’m not living with my mom.”
“I don’t care where you live, and I suspect Julie was trying to do you a favor. You won’t pay rent at your mother’s house, but you will still be paying rent where your family lives, so get that straight now.”
“But that’s not—”
“Look, Joe. My job was just to serve the court order and leave, but I always considered you a friend, so I’m giving you some friendly advice. Just because you fucked up your life doesn’t mean you get to fuck up your family’s life, too. Unless a judge tells you otherwise, you’re still at least partly responsible for the welfare of your wife and child. Stop whining and take responsibility for what you’ve done. Don’t make me have to arrest you. That would piss me off something fierce.”
He glanced at Earl, and then they walked off, leaving Joe Hanson with the problems he’d caused.
“That’s tough,” Earl said.
Trey frowned. “What? Getting kicked out of his home? It’s nothing compared to making his wife afraid to go home. He got exactly what he deserved.”
They stopped at a gas station to fuel up before heading back to the station. Trey would be heading out to the farm soon, and there were no words for how happy he was to know Dallas was there waiting.
“I’m gonna get me a cold pop and some chips. You want anything, Chief?” Earl asked.
“Bring me a cold Coke, but in a bottle, not a cup, and ice, please,” Trey said, and handed him a couple of dollars.
“Will do,” Earl said, and went inside while Trey began filling up the car.
The high school football coach was on the other side of the pumps filling up his truck, and when he saw Trey he started talking.
“Hey. I heard the sheriff is treating Dick Phillips’s death as a homicide. Is that true? Did someone really murder the guy?”
Trey wasn’t really surprised that word was spreading, but this was the first time he’d been asked.
“Yes, they ruled it a homicide.”
The coach shook his head in disbelief. “Does that mean someone in this town is likely the killer? Why do you think they did it? I mean, it’s not like he interrupted a robbery, ’cuz nothing was stolen, right? So it’s not like they killed him to keep him from identifying them.”
Trey frowned. “Uh...I wouldn’t speculate on anything at this point. Sheriff Osmond is in charge of the investigation.”
“Right,” the coach said, and then the fuel pump kicked off. “Well, that’s me. I guess I’m full up. See you around, Chief.”
“Yeah, see you around,” Trey said.
Earl came out as the coach drove off and handed Trey the cold Coke.
“Thanks,” Trey said. He unscrewed the lid and took a big drink, then screwed the lid back on the bottle and set it in the console just as his pump kicked off. They drove back to the station.
Trey was finishing up some paperwork when the phone rang. “Hello.”
“Hi, honey, it’s me.”
“Oh, hi, Mom. What’s up?”
He heard her sigh and frowned.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I can’t get over knowing Dick was murdered. I keep asking myself why. What did he know? Who did he make mad? What was going on in his life that would make someone do this?”
“I understand. I’m as puzzled as you are, but I’m not in charge of the case. I don’t know any more than you do, okay?”
She sighed again. “I know. I’m sorry I bothered you.”
“You didn’t bother me, Mom, not at all. I just don’t have answers, understand?”
“Yes, you’re right. I understand. We’ll all have to wait and see what turns up in the investigation.”
“Right,” Trey said. “Uh, I’m taking Dallas out to eat tonight. Just to the steak house here in town. I don’t think she’s up to anything else.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Betsy said. “Trina said she saw her coming out of the Triple C earlier this afternoon. Said she was all dolled up, so she must be excited about the date.”
The hair stood up on the back of his neck, imagining all kinds of dire situations in which she would be hurt again.
“She drove to town?”
“Obviously,” Betsy said. “Look, honey. She’s tough as they come. She saved her own life, and she’s trying to come to terms with losing her dad, so if she wants to drive a car, I would be the last person to argue.”
“I didn’t say it was a problem. I was just surprised, that’s all.”
“Well, at any rate, have a nice evening at the steak house.”
“Thanks, we will,” he said, and hung up the phone.
His eyes narrowed as he glanced at the clock. If she was already driving herself around, then what kind of an excuse was he going to use to stay at the farm with her a little longer?
* * *
Will Porter left the high school, but he wasn’t ready to go home to a drunk wife and no dinner, so he stopped off at Charlie’s for a cup of coffee and a piece of pie.
Gregory Standish was already ensconced in a booth in the corner and waved him over as he walked in.
“Will! Come join me,” Standish called out.
Will smiled, glad for the company.
“Thanks,” he said, as he slid into the booth just ahead of the waitress. “Coffee and pie. Do you have any coconut cream?”
“Yes, sir. Coming up!” she said, and went to fill the order.
Gregory leaned forward. “So, what’s up at Mystic’s magic high school?” he asked.
The old nickname made Will smile. “Nothing magic happening there. Just more of the same stuff that went on when we were in school. What about you? Still giving away money to the rich and famous?”
“Lending, Will, lending. Nothing is free in banking these days.”
“Nothing is free anywhere,” Will muttered, then smiled. He didn’t want anyone to know his life was anything but perfect.
At that point Marcus Silver walked in the door, looked around the room, and then saw Gregory and waved before heading over.
Will suddenly realized Marcus and Gregory had planned to meet here.
“Oh, hey! I didn’t know you were here for a meeting,” he said.
“It’s not that kind of business,” Gregory said. “Stay. Marcus won’t care.”
Marcus slid into the booth. “Will, how’s it going?” he asked.
“Oh, great, thanks. Look, I didn’t know you guys had business. I’ll move.”
“No, no. Stay where you are. Yes, it’s business, but nothing secret,” Marcus said.
The waitress showed up with Will’s pie and coffee and then looked at Marcus.
“Just coffee, please,” he said.
Will took a bite of pie as Marcus leaned back in the booth.
“It’s good to see you guys,” Marcus said. “We don’t hang out anymore. We should do this more often.”
“We’re all too busy,” Gregory said. “And you, man. You’re about to make your life even crazier.”
Will swallowed as he glanced at Marcus. “What are you about to do?”
Marcus smiled. “I’m thinking of running for the state senate. The incumbent is retiring, so the seat is up for grabs.”
Will grinned. “Really? I had no idea you had political aspirations.”
Marcus shrugged. “It’s been in my head for years. This seemed like a now-or-never moment, you know?”
Gregory knew what now-or-never felt like. He’d had his back pushed against the wall before, but never like it was now.
Will also thought about now-or-never. The only thing left standing in his way was Rita. “Well, I for one think that’s great. Is this for public knowledge?”
“Not yet, if you don’t mind,” Marcus said.
Will nodded. “My lips are sealed.” He took another bite of pie.
They were deep in discussion about the cost of campaign managers and the fact that, due to social media, there was no such thing as a private life anymore, when Marcus’s son walked into Charlie’s.
“Hey, T.J.! Over here!” Marcus called.
T.J. saw his dad, smiled and waved as he began to weave his way between tables, stopping along the way to speak to some of the other diners.
“Look at him. He’s working this room like a pro,” Gregory said.
Marcus smiled.
“And he’s as pretty as some Hollywood actor,” Will said, and then punched Marcus’s arm. “Good thing he took after his mother, right?”
“Oh, that’s for sure. Can’t argue with the truth,” Marcus said, and then laughed. Being rich made up for not being pretty. He’d never suffered from being on the wrong side of handsome.
T.J. finally reached the booth and slid in beside his father. “Are we eating here tonight?” he asked.
Marcus shook his head. “No, I have that dinner meeting later. I’m interviewing another campaign manager. It’s hard to know what to look for. Want to join me?”
T.J. smiled. “Yes, I would, thanks.”
The waitress came back one last time. “Anything for you?” she asked T.J.
“Just coffee, black,” he said.
“Coming up,” she said.
The conversation lagged as they waited for her to return, and as it did, they couldn’t help but overhear what a woman was saying at the table across the aisle.
“Yes, I was at the Triple C and heard it straight from Dallas Phillips’s mouth. She didn’t say much except that it had to do with the coroner’s findings. But it’s the truth. Her daddy didn’t commit suicide. He was murdered.”
T.J.’s eyes widened. “Dad, did you hear that?”
Marcus nodded.
Gregory looked shocked.
Will was pale.
T.J. leaned forward, whispering, “There’s a killer among us. What the hell is this world coming to?”
They all looked at each other, and then turned and stared out across the room, looking intently at the people who were eating, trying to see if one of them looked like a killer.
* * *
Trey was thinking about chores when he drove into the yard, and then he saw Dallas coming out of the barn and realized she was already through. She was driving. She was doing chores. He was no longer needed. Well, hell. But he wasn’t the kind of man to give up without a fight, so he got out of the car and went to meet her.
“Hi,” Dallas said.
Trey waved, touched her hair, gave her a thumbs-up, then cupped her face and gave her a lingering kiss that rocked her all the way to her shoes.
“Wow. I missed you, too,” she said softly, when he finally pulled back.
Before he could say anything, his phone began to ring.
“Better get that,” she said. “It might be important.”
“Yeah,” he said, and actually had the phone in his hand when he realized what she’d said. He stopped, stared at her in disbelief, and then started to grin. “You can hear!”
She nodded. “It’s coming back. Some things are easier to hear than others.”
“Thank the Lord,” Trey said, letting the call go to voice mail. “I want to hug you, but I’m afraid I’ll hurt your shoulder.”
“I would rather hurt and have a hug than do without,” she said.
So he obliged.
Enfolded within his arms, she laid her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes. Home. That’s what it felt like to be standing here, on this land, in his arms. It was home.
“Your hair looks and smells beautiful,” he said.
“I wanted to look good for our date. We haven’t had one in forever.”
“Six years, four months, three weeks and two days,” he said. “But who’s counting?”
She looked up as shock washed through her. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
She was obviously stunned that he’d shamelessly admitted how much he’d missed her, and he didn’t want to push the issue. Instead of following up, he reached for her hand.
“Let’s get back to the house. I still need to clean up, and we have a reservation for seven.”
They walked back together, both of them lost in thought.