Last Kiss Goodbye (10 page)

Just like Ivy’s father, Roy Stanton.

A.J. didn’t even have to say it. Matt heard the implication.

“Hell if I know. There have been other murders in Kudzu Hollow since I’ve been in jail, and I didn’t commit them.”

“But this one is too similar to the one you…to the Stanton killings.”

It was too late. A.J. had said it. Matt would always be a murderer to his mother, to the town. But he’d thought his one-time best friend honestly believed him.

“Dammit, A.J.” He dropped his head forward, rubbing his neck to calm his raging temper. He refused to let A.J. see how much his deception hurt. Matt was a grown man now. He hadn’t had any friends in forever. He didn’t need one now.

“Maybe someone murdered her to set me up again. The same person who left that bloody message and chicken on Ivy’s pillow.” He paced, his boots pounding the wooden floor of the cabin. He felt like a caged animal. He could not be locked up again like a savage. Not for another crime he hadn’t committed. He’d rather die first.

“I’d be a fool to come here and kill someone my first night in town,” Matt continued. “You think I want to go back to jail?”

“I don’t know.” A.J. narrowed his eyes, grasping. “Maybe you don’t know how to handle being out. I’ve heard of it happening. Some guys like the security. Prison gives them a free place to live, food. They don’t have to work.”

Fury heated Matt’s veins. “Well, I’m not one of them, A.J. I didn’t deserve to go to jail fifteen years ago, but let me tell you, it was hell. Pure hell. Every damn day, I dreamed about freedom. About what I was missing. About the things we talked about doing. The girls we wanted to date. The cars we planned to drive. I may not have had big career dreams, but I sure as hell didn’t intend to live my life in the state pen being turned into some kind of…” He couldn’t say it.

Shame seared through him.

He thought he saw pain flash in A.J.’s eyes.

“I thought you were my friend back then,” Matt said. “I came looking for you that night to tell you what happened, but I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“I was at home—”

“The hell you were. I know for a fact that’s a lie. I came by—”

“I was drunk.” A.J. sucked in a harsh breath. “I passed out in the backyard, in the garage.”

Matt stared at the corner of A.J.’s eye. It was twitching. It used to do that when he lied.

Was he lying now? And if so, why?

IVY SPOTTED THE SHERIFF’S car at Matt’s cabin, and worry nagged at her. Why was he visiting so early? Had he discovered the identity of the person who’d threatened her? If so, why wouldn’t he have come to her?

Then again, before he’d left he’d received a call about a murder. Maybe that explained his visit.

Fear coated her throat as she swallowed. Surely he didn’t think Matt had ridden into town and killed someone last night?

Not the Matt who had phoned the sheriff when he’d seen the terror in her eyes. Not the young boy who’d carried her to safety in the junkyard fifteen years ago. Not the one who’d slept in the car next to her to protect her.

She hadn’t defended him fifteen years ago, but she had to now.

Furious, she shrugged on a raincoat over her denim skirt and blouse, then braced herself against the wind as she crossed the damp grass toward Matt’s cabin. The two men had stepped outside onto the porch. Matt’s gaze latched onto hers, his eyes shooting over her, questioning. Sheriff Boles stared blatantly, tilting his hat so she could see his raised eyebrows. A flicker of male interest appeared in his eyes and sent a shiver through her.

“Good morning, Miss Stanton.”

“Is it?”

His mouth twitched sideways. “Not really, but I was trying to be pleasant.”

“Did you find out anything about the intruder in my cabin last night?”

“Haven’t talked to forensics yet. I’ll let you know when I do.”

Matt cleared his throat. He’d shaved, showered and dressed in jeans and a white shirt that contrasted with his dark skin and hair. But she remembered him bare chested and her cheeks reddened.

“What’s going on here?” Ivy asked.

“The sheriff was just leaving,” Matt said in a cold voice.

“I came to question Matt about Dora Leigh Werth, the woman we found murdered in the junkyard last night.”

“I don’t know her,” Ivy said.

“And I explained that I don’t know the woman, either,” Matt said, a hint of steel in his voice.

The sheriff jammed his thumbs in his belt loops. “She has a teenage son. He was pretty torn up.”

“That’s a shame,” Ivy said. “Do you have any leads?”

“I’m working on it.” The sheriff cut his eyes toward Matt, who stiffened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I told you to leave town last night, but now you’d better stick around.”

“You can’t possibly think that Matt killed her?” Ivy asked. “Because he was innocent fifteen years ago. In fact, Matt picked me up and carried me to a van to hide out, then he stayed in the car next to me to protect me.”

A.J. rocked back on his heels. “You remember what happened that night?”

“I’m starting to,” Ivy said, forcing a strength into her voice that she didn’t feel. “And before I leave, I hope to remember the rest.”

A long, tense second ticked by. “Then see me when you do,” Sheriff Boles said. “I’ll make certain the killer is punished.”

Ivy nodded, although the menacing look in the lawman’s eyes sent another wave of icy chills down her spine.

The sheriff turned and stalked toward his police car, and Matt swung her around. “Ivy, I don’t need anyone fighting my battles for me. And you shouldn’t go around confessing that you remember things. It’s too dangerous.”

“I…simply told the truth.”

Matt’s jaw tightened. “I’m not sure you can trust A.J.”

“You think A.J. might be involved? That he knows something about my parents’ murders?”

Matt shrugged. “He’s changed.”

“You two were good friends when you were teenagers, weren’t you?” Ivy asked softly.

He nodded, and she could almost read his thoughts. He and A.J. weren’t friends anymore. Now Matt had no friends.

“Just don’t go announcing that your memory is returning. If the killer is still around, he may come after you.”

She flinched. Matt was right about the danger. But he was wrong about not having any friends. She would be his friend if he would let her.

“Then we’d better figure out who killed my parents, Matt, because I’m not backing down or running away this time.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

THEY
HAD TO FIND her parents’ murderer.

Ivy had made the statement as if he and she were working together.

And she’d defended him in front of A.J. Not a very smart move, but still, Matt had to admit her belief in him stirred emotions that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Hope. Admiration. Arousal.

But she had to face reality.

“Ivy, it’s too dangerous for you to poke around. Please leave town and let me handle this.”

A softness flickered in her eyes, but the shadows remained. “I realize you’re trying to protect me, just like you did back then, Matt, but I’m not afraid.”

He gripped her arm. “You should be after last night. Someone meant to scare you.”

She nodded, but didn’t cower away from him as she had the first moment she’d spotted him. “I have to follow this through, Matt. I can’t move on with my life until I settle things in the past. Until I make it up to you.”

“God, Ivy, you don’t owe me anything. You were just a kid when your parents were murdered.”

“But I’m not a kid anymore.”

Man, she had that right. She was all grown up. Talented. Smart. Beautiful. Filled out in all the right places. And she was gutsy and had courage.

Dammit. He wanted her so badly he could practically taste the sweet saltiness of her skin. And he could feel her fingers triggering sparks of awareness through his lifeless body.

Their gazes locked, and heat rippled between them in waves, like the embers of a fire flickering into flame. Then she licked her lips and lifted her hand to his scarred cheek again, and he was lost.

He lowered his head and claimed her mouth, a fierce hunger rising in him from the depths of his soul. He had never tasted a woman who ignited such desire. Never had a woman’s lips felt so soft and supple. Never had he ached to bury himself inside a woman so deeply that he physically hurt from having to restrain himself.

She gently slid her hand into his hair, and her mouth moved beneath his. A low, throaty sound floated from her as he cupped her face with his hands. Loving her was so easy.
Not
loving her would be the problem.

He didn’t have the strength to walk away just yet, though. Instead, he caressed her cheeks with his fingers as he deepened the kiss, nibbled on her luscious lower lip, then trailed one hand down her back, over the sweet curve of her hip, and dragged her closer to his body. As her breasts pressed against his chest, his sex throbbed, straining toward her.

A storm cloud rumbled above, and the raindrops splattering his head finally registered. What was he doing? Practically mauling Ivy outside, where anyone could see. About to take her on the ground like some damn animal.

That’s what you were in the pen….

He wrenched himself away, then forced himself to look into her eyes. She’d be terrified, sickened maybe. She might even run.

But a hazy glow of excitement pinkened her cheeks, and her green eyes had turned to emeralds, shimmering with desire. Her chest rose and fell, her breathing uneven. He was breathless himself, couldn’t remember the last time he’d really kissed a woman. Even in the pen, on those rare occasions he’d enjoyed a conjugal visit, the coupling had been raw sex. Physical release. No kissing or tender touching. Just desperation. Not this emotional, urgent, erotic play of lips on lips, skin against skin. The kind that filled the empty void that had eaten away his soul for years.

He wanted to kiss her again. To carry her inside, lay her on the bed and make long, slow love to her.

But raindrops dotted her face and hair, the sky looked ominous and Ivy was in danger.

“I’m sorry—”

She pressed her fingers to his lips. “Don’t. I’m not.”

He didn’t understand her. But he clasped her hand in his, stroked the pads of her fingers. “Ivy, I didn’t kill your parents, but I’m not a good guy, either. I’ve done things—”

“Shh. It doesn’t matter.”

He swallowed hard, wishing that were true. But the past had shaped him into a man who didn’t deserve her. Had changed him forever. And although he had found tenderness in the moment, he wasn’t a tender man. The rage and ugliness had settled just below the surface, and sometimes erupted, and he couldn’t control it. Like the caged animal he’d become inside the pen, that beast fought for escape.

Ivy had seen her share of beasts when she was a kid. He wouldn’t expose her to his temper, too.

His heart pounded as he dragged his gaze from her lips. “I’m going to town.”

She dug her fingernails into his bicep to keep him from fully pulling away. “I’ll go with you, Matt.”

He shook his head. “No, I won’t put you in danger. Not any more than you already are.”

“But—”

He pinned her with a warning look and slowly extracted her fingers from his arm. “No, Ivy.”

She bit her lip again, glanced toward the woods. “Then I’ll work on my article. I need to finish my research for the magazine.”

He studied her face, wondering why she’d kissed him. Not that it mattered. They’d both gotten caught up in the moment. She’d been shaken by last night’s events. He’d been shaken by…her.

They’d both needed a little comfort.

It couldn’t happen again. Because he had killed before. And he wouldn’t hesitate to do so again if he found out who had framed him.

Or if someone tried to hurt Ivy.

MATT STALKED TO HIS CABIN, and Ivy ran inside to escape the rain, but her lips still tingled from his kiss. Erotic sensations had flooded her the minute he’d pulled her up against him. If he hadn’t put some distance between them, she wouldn’t have been able to stop herself from asking him to come inside. And then…what?

Where could they possibly go from here? A romantic relationship was out of the question. Matt harbored bitterness and sought revenge, while she carried the trauma of her past around her as if it were a shield. She had used her miserable childhood to keep from getting close to anyone. She couldn’t forge a bond, then have someone else she loved ripped from her arms as her mother had been. And Ivy couldn’t look at a male and not think about the violent man her father had been.

But Matt wasn’t violent…at least not toward her.

How did she really know? He’d admitted he’d done things he wasn’t proud of. And she’d heard stories about prison life.

George, on the other hand, was exactly the type of man she should be interested in. He was stable. A businessman. Safe.

He didn’t trigger any of the emotions that Matt evoked. Didn’t make her nervous or frightened. Didn’t make her body tingle with a need that she didn’t quite understand, but that made her want to beg for more of his touches.

Yes, George was safe.

And Matt wasn’t.

But she wanted him, anyway.

Forcing herself to ban the kiss from her mind, she reviewed the police reports on her parents’ murder, then retrieved all the articles she could find on Kudzu Hollow the past few years. Although the other crimes weren’t connected, the folklore about the evil aura surrounding the town intrigued her, and would add an atmospheric layer to her article.

She skimmed several stories about the town, noting the fact that for the past ten years, during heavy rains, crimes escalated. Two murders had occurred the first year, three the next, two the following, with a string of other random crimes added to the list. Several cases involved teens. Two had murdered their parents. A fourteen-year-old boy had stabbed his older brother to death. And a cheerleader had killed her best friend, supposedly because she’d bumped her from the captain’s spot. Town officials had even built a separate wing on the jail to house juveniles, so they would be separated from adult prisoners.

Another bizarre string of incidents had occurred. Animals turned up dead. Chickens were slaughtered. Places in the woods where bonfires had been set indicated ritualistic acts had been committed there. A pit full of burned rattlesnakes had been found at the foot of Rattlesnake Mountain. Some locals suspected a satanic cult had sprung up in the area. Some blamed Lady Bella Rue for bringing black magic to Kudzu Hollow, claiming she’d cursed the town because of the children’s tauntings. The Baptist church touted that Talulah and the girls from Red Row were the source of sin. They’d even tried to run them out of town.

Fueled with renewed energy, Ivy grabbed her camera bag, shrugged on her raincoat and headed outside to her car. She wanted to visit Lady Bella Rue and learn more about the root doctor. If she was really a seer, then she might have some insight into these murders, as well as Ivy’s parents’ deaths.

“DAD, IVY SAYS SHE’S starting to remember that night.”

Arthur Boles stopped dead in his tracks in his home office and stared at his son, wishing like hell they’d both left town years ago. But he’d thought leaving might draw suspicion to him and A.J. And he’d had investments to protect.

His son, for one.

Their secrets, for another.

A.J. was his biggest asset, his biggest liability, all rolled into one.

Arthur poured himself a cup of strong coffee and gripped the mug with a shaky hand. “What exactly did she say?”

A.J. slumped onto the sofa, dropped his head in his hands and massaged his temple. “That Mahoney found her running in the junkyard that night. That he picked her up and carried her to a van, where she hid out all night.”

“That’s where they found her, right?”

A.J. nodded, his face a sick yellow. “She said that Mahoney stayed in the car next to her to protect her.” Sweat trickled down A.J.’s jaw. “What if Matt—”

“Shut up,” Arthur barked. “The evidence proved that Mahoney was at the scene, and you know it. After the murder, he probably went back and hid in the junkyard so the sheriff couldn’t find him.”

A.J. stood, walked over to the bar and reached for the Scotch, but Arthur barred him with an outstretched hand. “It’s not even noon, A.J. What are you thinking? You can’t show up in uniform drunk when you have an image to uphold.”

“That image may be falling apart, Dad.” A.J.’s hand trembled, obviously itching for the bottle, as he pushed aside his father’s arm. “There was another murder last night. Dora Leigh Werth. Found her body in the junkyard. Stabbed. Strangled by the kudzu.”

“Just like Stanton?”

“Yeah. And if Matt didn’t do it, and I don’t think he did, then someone else did. But it makes me nervous having Matt back. He’s going to ask questions.”

“Hell, don’t you think I know that?” Arthur tried to think, but agitation sliced into his brain like a knife. He’d had to save his son’s butt too many times to count.

“You weren’t drinking last night, were you?”

A.J. cut his gaze toward his father. “After the murder…geesh, I had to have something to calm me down. Ever since the Stanton slayings, and Matt going to jail, I’ve felt trapped in this town. It’s killing me.”

“
You’ve
been trapped?” Arthur gripped A.J. by the shirt, rage knotting every muscle in his body. “You think I wanted to stay here in this little podunk mountain town all these years?”

“You have your business.” A.J. eyed the liquor like a starved animal. “I had plans, but now I’m stuck. And I’m the one who has to deal with the evil in this town. I’m sick of it.”

Arthur sighed. The evil. Another part of the ugly puzzle. Even his son didn’t know the whole story. Arthur had to instigate damage control. “All right, so you knocked back a few drinks last night. At home?”

A.J. glanced at the painting on the wall above the mantel. “At the Ole Peculiar.”

Great. An alibi if he needed it. Then again, witnesses would report that their sheriff had been inebriated. “Then what did you do?”

“Nothing.”

Arthur growled. He’d always known when his son was lying—his voice changed. Hell, A.J. couldn’t even make eye contact. “Don’t lie to me, boy. You took a trip to Red Row, didn’t you?”

Guilt flashed in A.J.’s bleary eyes, and Arthur slammed a fist on his desk. The Waterford crystal paperweight slid sideways with the force. “Goddammit, A.J. When will you ever learn?” Arthur didn’t wait for a response. He knew the answer: never.

Furious, he stormed from the room, grabbed his raincoat and hat, and headed to see Talulah. On the way, he had a phone call to make. One he dreaded.

His friend wouldn’t be happy that Ivy was remembering, not at all….

That meant hell to pay for him. Especially if Ivy revealed the truth.

MATT SPENT HALF THE afternoon researching the town and the crimes that had occurred the past few years. He hadn’t known exactly what he was looking for, but had a hunch that the events might be tied to his past. Late afternoon shadows painted a murky gray across the land as he drove by the junkyard, his mind soaring back fifteen years to the night he’d found Ivy running. She’d said she wasn’t sure her father had been chasing her. Matt had assumed that was who she’d been running from. But what if someone else had been chasing her? What if her father had already been dead?

The more he contemplated the various scenarios, the more convinced he was that the answers might be found at Red Row. With Lily Stanton’s lovers.

Rain slashed his windshield as he drove by the kudzu-covered cars and the trailer park. His hands tightened around the steering wheel as he passed his mother’s trailer, then he pressed the gas, sped up and drove by Ivy’s old homestead. The mobile home, a 1960s model, had slid off its coasters, the windows were boarded up, and what was left of the white paint had faded, creating a cross between mildew-yellow and puke-green.

In his mind, he saw Ivy’s mother’s face, stone-cold white, with all that blood spilled around her on the crusty linoleum floor. Who had done such a brutal thing to her?

Someone with a personal grudge…

Had she been blackmailing one of her customers?

A mixture of emotions flowed through him as he made his way toward the back of the mobile home park, to Red Row. Excitement that he might find answers here. Dread that someone might discover that he had visited the hooker corner of the trailer park before. Not to question the girls, but as a paying customer.

Hell, half the boys in town had lost their virginity to women of the red light district. Why should Kudzu Hollow be any different than anywhere else?