I'll Be Watching You Page 26

  Those words dropped on her insides like lead weights, punctuated by the call of a nearby heron. She wasn’t sure why she said, “I never slept with JoGene.”

  “I know.” He knew. He’d meant her. Maybe. “He complained about it for hours, and I commiserated with him while silently cheering you on. Maybe I wouldn’t have cheered if it’d been me with the blue balls.”

  She choked on those words, easy since she’d been holding her breath. Forget about the insinuation and especially the blue balls. “Who did she open her legs for?” Diversion was easier. Fighting her feelings for Zell was becoming a bigger fight than she’d bargained for. It was pressing down on her chest and making her legs feel wobbly.

  “Do you really want to know?”

  She nodded, because she now realized what she’d been asking.

  “Yeah, JoGene did her.” He didn’t look very troubled about telling her either. “Every now and then.”

  She was amazed that it still hurt all these years later. Maybe it hurt because Zell had known. “I guess I should have known. For days, weeks sometimes, he’d bug me. Then I wouldn’t see him for a while and he’d be, ‘Oh, let’s wait,’ again, sweet and calm as could be. I figured he’d jacked off.”

  She supposed she wanted to shock him with her bluntness, but he only chuckled. “Yeah, well, we all did that now and again. When it became necessary.”

  “You weren’t an innocent either. I remember Terri, Marie…” She remembered too well, listening outside his bedroom door late at night after everyone had gone to bed. She remembered how she’d felt, as though he’d betrayed her. It made no sense, since he owed her not an ounce of chastity.

  It didn’t help that he chuckled again. “I didn’t have to be an innocent. I was a teenaged boy with his choice of pickings.”

  She kicked him in the shin, not hard, but enough to make him jump. She wasn’t acting rationally. So what if he’d screwed a hundred women? It really shouldn’t matter a whit. But it did, obviously, and that annoyed her.

  He rubbed his shin. “I thought we were having a conversation here. If you don’t want to talk about my former sex life, why’d you bring it up?”

  She wanted to kick him again but held herself back. She figured he’d taken enough bruises for her lately. “I’m asking the questions now, remember?” She steered her mind back to the matter at hand. “Who else was doing Rhonda? Owen?”

  “And risk Shar’s wrath?”

  “Maybe he liked being the dominant one for a change. What about Winnerow? Or Buck?”

  He shifted his gaze away. “Kim, I wasn’t her pimp. Why do you think I’d know who was doing her?”

  She didn’t like the shadow of guilt on his face, but she decided not to push him at the risk of losing his cooperation. “Have you ever seen an old rifle around Heron’s Glen that didn’t belong there? Maybe it had the initials SG on the butt end?”

  He met her gaze directly. “Nope.”

  “Were you aware that Owen was helping Elva with things around the house?”

  “He might have been. Folks help each other around here. Nothing strange about that.”

  “Why’d you kiss me that night at your house?” The question slipped out. She could blame it on the orchids or the muggy heat, but she let it stand between them.

  Without any warning, his hand slid behind her head, and he pulled her against him. His mouth covered hers, no, possessed hers. He dipped his tongue into her mouth and wandered lazily around to explore.

  His kiss felt different than JoGene’s had. Made her feel different. She tried to objectively compare them, like a scientific observer. That lasted for about three seconds and then she was lost in the kiss for the rest of the minute that his tongue lathed hers. The temperature jumped up another twenty degrees with their bodies pressed together. With her crazed thoughts, she didn’t realize she’d returned his kiss, matching his lazy rhythm with her own. Her mind could object all it wanted, but the rest of her didn’t care about the concept of friends, enemies…or lovers.

  Her father was a thief, her grandmother was a blackmailer…and now she was a traitor to everything she believed in.

  She could tell by the way he kissed, demanding her whole mouth, holding her close with the merest touch of his fingers against the back of her neck, that he would demand everything from her—her heart and soul. He would demand passion that she didn’t possess.

  She was ashamed to admit that she wasn’t the one who finished the kiss. Zell released her, but he didn’t step back. The fire in his eyes scared her in some deep way. This was not a man who was easy to know. Once she did know him, he would consume her.

  He ran his thumb over her mouth, regarding her with that sage look on his face. “Because despite the fact that kissing you would be a bit of bad business, like consorting with the enemy…despite that getting involved with you would get me into all kinds of hot water, not only with my family but also with the Waddells, who are almost like kin. Much as that displeases me,” he added in a low voice. “Despite that kissing you goes against every principle I have, I wanted to.”

  He wanted to. Well, that was simple. Even as simple as it was, the words tingled through her. “So, you wanted to kiss me, but you didn’t want to kiss me.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And you’re not happy about it.”

  The fire and hunger in his eyes turned into something harder. “Not a bit.” His finger continued to trail over her chin and down her throat. “You’re walking across the backs of gators. This killer you’re looking for…maybe he is one of us, maybe he’s not. It doesn’t matter, ’cause some of these folks will see your digging as accusation. Loyalties run deep around here. Be really careful who you point a finger at. If you think you’ve found a killer, be damned sure you have proof this time. I don’t want to see you get hurt, angel.” The expression on his face changed, and he dropped his hand. “Your hair is short.”

  “Well, yeah. You already asked—”

  “Like Tullie saw. When she ‘saw’ you in her bad dream, she said your hair was really short. Now it is.”

  When she shivered at that, he turned and left. Tullie’s visions, the ones that came true sometimes. She remembered the girl’s plea for her not to cut her hair.

  She remained in the hothouse long after, her heart still pounding. Her thoughts shifted from Tullie to the conversation. She’d seen concern in his eyes, but she wasn’t sure if the rest of that was warning—or threat.

  CHAPTER 19

  Zell hadn’t liked that conversation at all. First of all, he was going to have to do penance for kissing her. Since he was Baptist, there would be no Hail Marys for him. No, for Zell Macgregor, penance consisted of singing “Love Stinks” forty times. To remind him that kissing the woman who had caused his family so much trouble—and was bound to do so again—was a really bad idea.

  He hated to admit it, but the fact that she’d cut her hair scared him. Tullie wasn’t always right, but the coincidence that Tullie had seen Kim with short hair, and now she had short hair, was too much to ignore. That was probably why the girl had looked so disturbed after Kim’s visit.

  He drove home to work on a report he had a feeling wasn’t going to get done. Not with all this other stuff crowding into his mind. Elva blackmailing a murderer and then being killed? No, couldn’t be. Kim was on another blind pursuit for justice. She believed it, just as she’d believed his father had murdered Rhonda Jones all those years ago—and probably still did.

  Zell had been able to bury his secrets and his doubts. Now Kim was digging around that shallow grave. What worried him more was that everyone knew she was digging. Rhonda’s murderer knew she was digging, too. It was likely he wouldn’t hesitate to kill Kim if she got too close to the truth.

  What really bothered him, more than his doubts and the protection of his family, was how much it scared him to think about Kim in danger. Against his better judgment, she was beginning to mean something to him. He wouldn’t have been happy about it in
the best of circumstances. Now she was putting herself in a bad position. There wasn’t much he could do to protect her if she kept sneaking around people’s private property.

  As he pulled up to his house, he started singing his first song.

  Kim called the Gun and Rod Club to ascertain that the hunting party had, indeed, gone out that early morning and that JoGene had gone with them. She’d already asked Amy to help Smitty with the lunch shift at Southern Comfort. She dropped Oscar off at the bar early that morning, only opening the front door and letting him in. Then she headed to the club.

  Fifteen minutes later, she drove into the cypress and pine forest. To the right a gravel road led to the lodge, where guests could stay, eat, and buy hunting and fishing supplies. To the left was the road leading to the cabins, and beyond that was the boat launch.

  They had added more cabins and refurbished the existing ones. They were set in a circle with picnic tables and a large bonfire in the center. To the north was the large tract of land the Waddells let their guests hunt on.

  The parking area was filled with sedans and luxury SUVs, but the place was quiet. She’d decided on the forthright approach as she pulled up to the hunting cabins. She walked purposefully through the scattering of numbered cabins to the one set back near the Snake River. The small wooden sign out front read “Lodging Manager.”

  Zell’s warning echoed in her head. She preferred to think of it as a warning and not a threat. A man who could kiss her like that couldn’t hurt her, right? She wouldn’t dwell on the fact that he’d probably do a lot to protect the Macgregor family honor, especially after spending so much of his youth doing just that.

  She knocked on the door and prepared her spiel should JoGene be there. No answer. She scanned the area again, but heard only the chatter of birds celebrating a new day. The front door was unlocked, so she stepped inside the dark cabin. She didn’t take time to analyze the mess of hunting magazines, plate holding two crusts of pizza, or any of the rest of the place. She went right for the closets, where one was likely to stash a rifle.

  With one ear tuned to outside noise, she looked in the utility room, kitchen, and then the bedroom. Zell’s provocative words about catching her in his house came to mind as she glanced at the rumpled bed.

  She found a rifle in the second bedroom. In fact, she found a lot of rifles. A long table held bits and pieces of several guns in varying states of being cleaned or reworked. She searched through them, looking for an old buttstock with initials carved into it. Nothing. His gun cabinet wasn’t nearly as elaborate as the Macgregor’s, but it was jammed full of rifles. Better yet, it wasn’t locked. She sorted through those, but came up empty-handed again.

  The storage shed might be a place to stick a gun you didn’t want anyone to find. Of course, she knew there were plenty of places to get rid of a gun: rivers, swamps, and even the area where someone had spooked her among the mangroves. She walked the several yards from JoGene’s cabin to the large shed. She’d spent a few afternoons there, watching JoGene tune up a tractor or his ATV. There had been something masculine and slightly primitive about a man fixing machinery that she used to find irresistible. Thinking back to Zell working on his airboat, she realized she still did.

  The shed was locked. She jiggled the padlock just in case, but it held firm. The sound of an ATV in the distance sent her back to JoGene’s cabin as she scanned the woods. Even though she hadn’t been caught at anything suspicious, her heart was still beating faster than normal. She debated on getting in her truck and leaving, but she could see an ATV coming down the road.

  JoGene was looking right at her as he rode toward his cabin. He pulled off his Gun and Rod Club cap and wiped the sweat off his brow, cut the engine, and pulled his lanky legs off the bike.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked, looking puzzled but not suspicious.

  “I came by to apologize for the other night at the bar. I’d like to keep the door open…for us, I mean. I’d like to remain friends for now.” She held out her hand.

  He took her hand, a half-smile on his face. “Buck would have fits if he saw you here.” His smile grew wider.

  She pulled her hand away. “I’m sure he would. He’s out with a hunting party, isn’t he?”

  “No, we came back early.” He glanced at the vehicles. “Guess the wussies thought the place would be air-conditioned. All they did was whine about the mud and bugs. They’re all taking a break at the lodge, plumb tuckered out.”

  “Well, I’d better go.” She walked back to her truck before he could get any ideas about kissing her again or keeping her around until Buck did find her there. When she started the engine, she saw JoGene trying his front door and then looking at her. Did he wonder if she’d been snooping inside? More importantly, had she made another enemy?

  She saw the lodge through the trees as she drove down the main road. Beyond that was the Waddell’s house where JoGene had lived when they’d dated. That was the place she really wanted to check out. She’d have to give some thought as to how she might achieve that. Sneaking into Buck’s house would be like crawling into an alligator cave.

  When Kim pulled up to Southern Comfort near noon, the sight of a squad car parked out front made her chest tighten with dread. Not again. Then a more terrifying thought: Oscar! Smitty’s and Amy’s cars were out front along with two others. A quick scan revealed no visible damage. She skidded to a stop and ran inside.

  “Oh, my God.”

  The place had been trashed. Stools and chairs were broken, tables tipped over, and the bottles of liquor behind the bar smashed. The fumes were overwhelming. If somebody lit up, the place would go up in flames. Her gaze darted to the pictures along the walls. They had been knocked down, but weren’t damaged. The jukebox’s glass cover had been cracked. Elva’s dead animals had been smashed.

  Amy rushed over and took Kim’s hands in hers. “It’s awful, really awful. We found it like this when we came in. We’ve been worried sick about you. Been trying your house for an hour.”

  Angus was walking around taking it all in. Kinsey was snapping pictures. Smitty walked over and patted her shoulder.

  “Where’s Oscar?” she managed through a throat tightened by grief and anger.

  “He’s out back. He’s fine. I didn’t want him cutting himself on the glass.”

  She took in the destruction again, hoping tears wouldn’t blur her eyes. “I didn’t even look inside when I dropped him off.”

  Angus walked over. “I don’t guess you’ll be serving lunch today.”

  She could only shake her head. He also patted her shoulder and walked out. She blinked to clear her eyes. Anger overtook the shock and sorrow, and she stalked over broken glass to Kinsey. “Find out who did this.”

  “Well, we know it wasn’t Billy Bob or Clem. They’re still in jail. Know anyone who might have a grudge against you?”

  She wanted to laugh but was sure it would come out hysterically. Since he was toying with her to begin with, he’d get too much satisfaction from that.

  “Could be half the town, don’t you think?” he said.

  “Take fingerprints. They had to have left fingerprints.”

  “Them and everybody in town who’s ever been in here. I did find this. Figure they used it to smash the bottles.” He indicated a new bat with the pointy end of his boot. “Dusted it, but there weren’t any prints on it. We’ll see if we can trace where it was bought.” He pointed toward the half-open door. The doorframe was cracked where someone jimmied the lock. “They gained entrance through the back door.” He finished the report and handed her a copy. “For insurance.”

  She hoped Elva had good insurance that paid promptly. There weren’t enough cash reserves to fix this. “What about finding the person or persons who did this?”

  “Let me handle this.” He nodded toward the bar. “You’ve already made enough enemies. In all the years that Elva owned this place, she only had one break-in—and that was for money. This is a message to you. You
can’t seem to keep out of trouble. Like your dad. You best remember what happened to him.” She got a chill, but kept her expression bland. “Rest assured, Miss Lyons, we’ll be focusing all of our attention on this crime. You are, after all, our best customer these days.”

  He said goodbye to Smitty and Amy and walked out. Kim surveyed the mess again and tried not to let tears bubble to the surface. Every bottle of liquor had been smashed. If this was a message, what did it say? Get out of town? Stop snooping? It made her even more determined to disobey both commands.

  Kim picked up a broom. “Let’s get this place cleaned up.”

  Smitty said, “You seen the kitchen yet?”

  She hadn’t thought past the main area and all the lost liquor. She followed him into the kitchen where the mess continued. Thawed chicken wings littered the floor, adding a dead flesh aroma to the air. Bread was scattered everywhere, lettuce and tomatoes strewn all over. Her box of beer signs was still in the corner where, thankfully, she hadn’t unpacked it yet. They, or he, hadn’t messed with the desk other than to clear the surface. The drawers and files within were still intact. The safe was in the floor beneath the desk, hidden by the carpeting. The vandals hadn’t been interested in money, only in making as much of a mess as possible.

  “Let’s get this place cleaned up. I don’t want to see it anymore.”

  She fed dollars into the jukebox and crossed her fingers when she pressed the selections. She smiled in relief when Mandoza played.

  “I chose some Skaggs for you,” she told Smitty, “And ‘Mustang Sally’ for you, Amy.”

  She put a large closed for remodeling sign out front and hated the fact that whoever had done this would take satisfaction from that. But they’d never see her break down.

  By three, they’d piled all the broken chairs and stools out by the Dumpster. Luckily, the tables were so sturdy they’d only sustained a few bumps and scrapes. She’d already gone over to the hardware store and ordered replacement chairs, using up the last of the reserves with the deposit alone. They wouldn’t be in until mid-week, which meant she’d be closed until then. Couldn’t ask your customers to sit on the floor, after all. She tried not to think about the lost income when she needed it most. She was going to make the best out of this. In fact, she’d rented a sander for the following day and planned to take down the top layer of grime and old varnish on the wood floor.