'Til Death (A Rebel Ridge Novel) (11 page)

He aimed the remote at the TV and hit Mute, then got up to
check email. There were a couple of things he needed to confirm with the crew
back in Dallas, and he wanted to catch the foreman before he left home.

Although the two rooms had held the heat well throughout the
night, he needed to stoke up the coals and get a new fire going. He’d slept in
sweatpants, but he grabbed a sweatshirt and pulled it over his head as he
hurried across the floor to the stove and the wood stacked beside it.

After the fire was going he started coffee and popped a couple
of slices of bread into the toaster. He got out the peanut butter and jelly,
then turned on his laptop as he waited for the toast to pop up. He had an agenda
today that was bound to open a floodgate of trouble, and he didn’t want to be
sidetracked.

The toast popped up. He made himself a sandwich, washing it
down with two cups of coffee as he ran through the email, then made a call to
one of his two foremen, a man named Toby Sheffield. Toby was a fortysomething
man with two ex-wives and four kids. He was as faithful with his child support
payments as he was to the job he held with Fox Construction.

“Hey, Toby, it’s me, Linc.”

“Hey, boss. How goes it?”

“Finally got moved in but we’re expecting some bad weather. So
fill me in on the project.”

“It’s good. I fired Ortiz.”

Linc frowned. “Why?”

“Stealing.”

“Shit. Make sure he doesn’t come back and try it a second time
out of spite.”

“Already on it,” Toby said. “We poured concrete all day
yesterday. As soon as it cures up another day or so, we’ll start framing.”

“Have you talked to Gerald about the other job site?”

“Yeah, last night. He said to tell you that the geological
report on the subsoil came back. We’re in the clear, and the city inspector who
was raising hell is now off our back.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear. I’m going to be out and
about today, but you have my cell number. Call if you need me.”

“Yeah, sure,” Toby said, and then added, “Hey, boss. Are you
really gonna stay there?”

“I’m for sure staying until I finish what I came to do, but the
road to Dallas runs both ways. I’ll be there off and on. Have no fear.”

“Okay...so, take care and good luck.”

“Thanks. Talk to you later.”

He hung up, made himself another sandwich and ate quickly,
anxious to get down to Boone’s Gap before he changed his mind. Just before he
left he sat down on the sofa and made a call to Aunt Tildy. She answered on the
first ring.

“Hello?”

Linc grinned. “Hey, Aunt Tildy, it’s me, Linc. You must have
been sitting on that phone.”

“I was just walking down the hall with a load of clean towels.
I’ll admit it startled me some when it went to ringing.”

He chuckled. “Sorry about that. I won’t keep you, but I was
wondering if you’d talked to your friend Beulah since we were up there. Has the
propane been delivered?”

“Yes, I went up yesterday to check on her. Her aches are
better, and her house was just as warm as could be. She had a fire going in the
fireplace, stew cooking on her stove, and her heating stove burning, as well.
She said she felt like a plutocrat, with all that luxury.”

“Good. I couldn’t help but worry about her. She’s sure a little
bitty thing, isn’t she?”

Tildy laughed. “Honey, compared to you, we’re all little
bitty.”

Linc laughed again. “I guess you’re right about that. Oh...one
other thing, but I wanted you to know. I’m going down to Sheriff Marlow’s office
this morning to get copies of the file they have on me. I barely remember
anything after the house exploded.”

He heard Tildy sigh.

“So you’re ready to stir the pot, are you?”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

“I’m behind you all the way, boy. If you need anything, all you
have to do is ask. Marcus was my brother. I loved him dearly, and I’d like to
see his killers pay.”

Linc frowned. “Killers? I never thought of the guilty party as
plural. Why do you?”

“You’re a big man, Lincoln, and so was Marcus. It would take
more than one man to put him down.”

Linc’s stomach turned. “I wish the law had talked to you before
they decided to arrest me.”

“Oh, the sheriff heard everything I had to say, just like he
stood and listened to what your granddaddy was saying about you being at his
place all afternoon. He said it wouldn’t make any never-mind to the jury,
because we were your kin and would say anything to get you off, even though we
kept saying we would never lie to protect Marcus’s killer, no matter who it
was.”

Linc frowned. He’d been railroaded, but why?

“Wow. Between him and my public defender, they already had me
guilty as charged before the trial ever started.”

“There’s stuff to be told, for sure,” Tildy said. “Don’t
forget, once you open this can of worms, you’ll need to start watching your
back. If the killers still live here, they won’t want this rehashed.”

“Yes, ma’am. I will. So let me know if you need anything, will
you?”

“And you the same,” Tildy said.

He hung up, dropped his phone in his pocket, then grabbed his
coat and headed out the door, taking care to lock it behind him.

* * *

Meg felt aimless. She had two more quilts in different
stages of progress. One had the batting and backing attached and was already on
the quilt frame, so that if she got tired of cutting and sewing blocks she could
sit and quilt for a while. But she had gotten up this morning feeling her life
was in a loop, running over and over doing the same daily things: feeding
chickens, sewing, feeding Honey, then going to bed and getting up the next day
to repeat the tasks.

Just the effort it took to cook something decent to eat was
beyond her. Ever since her mother had moved out, she’d gotten in the habit of
eating on the run, and never at regular times. Sometimes she wouldn’t eat
breakfast until nearly noon, then wouldn’t eat dinner at all and instead snack
on whatever was easiest to make for supper. She needed some order in her life.
She needed to get out of her rut and knew the only way to make something happen
was to change what she’d been doing. After a quick check of the pantry it became
obvious that if she was going to cook, she needed more than cans of soup and
packets of tuna.

Honey followed her through the house, her head down, her eyes
sad and droopy. Meg realized the dog was picking up on her attitude, and that
made her feel even guiltier than ever. She sat down on the side of the bed, and
Honey immediately sat down on her feet.

Meg laughed and quickly patted the dog’s head, then gave her
ear a quick scratch.

“You look as mopey as I feel,” she said.

Honey looked up with her big brown eyes and then licked Meg’s
fingers.

“Well, thank you,” Meg said. “I needed that good-morning kiss.
And
I need to go get groceries. Wanna go for a
ride?”

Honey stood abruptly, wagging her tail and looking toward the
hall.

“Give me a couple of minutes to brush my hair and put on some
warmer shoes.”

While Meg began to change, Honey sat in the doorway, making
sure she didn’t get left behind.

Meg put on a red sweater and jeans and then slipped into her
brown fur-lined boots. She started to tie her hair back and then decided to
leave it down. It would be warmer that way. She eyed herself in the dresser
mirror, then finished the look with a swipe of lipstick called Ripe Tomato,
picked up her shoulder bag and headed for the living room with Honey at her
heels. She paused in the hall to get her coat and stopped at the door to set the
security alarm, and then they were on their way.

The cold air was a slap-in-the-face reminder of the winter that
was almost upon them. She walked the length of the porch to the attached
carport, and then took the steps down two at a time and opened the back door of
her car.

“Get in, Honey,” she said, and laughed when Honey barked.
“You’re right. We’ve been hibernating alone too long when we get excited about a
simple trip to the grocery store.”

As soon as the dog was inside Meg got into the driver’s seat
and buckled up. Just the act of driving away from the house made her feel she
was stepping out of a shadow.

When she reached the main road her thoughts went to Linc. She
wondered what he was doing, if he’d started his investigation, and wondered if
she would fit into the world he’d made for himself, or if she should stay back
and consider him a part of her past.

About two miles from her house she met her brother James going
up the mountain on his mail route. She honked and waved. He waved back and made
a goofy face at her, which was typical. It set the mood for the rest of the
trip. With Honey’s hot breath on the back of her neck and the idea that she was
about to shift her attitude and focus, she was feeling good by the time she
reached Boone’s Gap.

The small town was unusually busy, which she attributed to
people stocking up in case weather and bad roads changed their options. She
parked at Barney’s Groceries and gave Honey a command.

“Stay, Honey.”

The dog immediately dropped into the backseat and laid her head
on her paws. By the time Meg got out and locked her door, the dog’s eyes were
closed. Meg headed for the store with a bounce in her step that set her long
hair swinging. To the eye, she was a tall, pretty woman on the go. Only she knew
the turmoil in her heart.

She walked inside, waving at Louise, the checkout clerk.

“Meg! Good to see you out and about. Did you get healed up
okay?”

“Yes, I did, Louise, and thank you for asking.”

“They catch that good-for-nothing Prince White yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“You be careful,” Louise said. “People like him are wild cards.
You never know how they’re going to behave.”

“That’s for sure,” Meg said. “It still doesn’t make sense why
he’d fixate on me after all these years.”

Louise shrugged. “Probably got drunk one night and let old
wounds get the best of him. But no matter. He’s history. You go on and do your
shopping, and pay attention in the produce aisle. We got bananas on sale. To my
mind they’re a little too ripe for eating, but they’re just right for banana
bread or banana pudding.”

“Thanks,” Meg said, and walked away smiling. Bigger grocery
stores had large banners hanging from the ceilings and big Sale signs sticking
up on all their displays. Barney’s had Louise.

She hadn’t made a list, so she began going down each aisle
slowly, checking out what was on the shelves and adding items to her cart when
the mood arose. She’d been there almost thirty minutes and was thinking about
Honey waiting for her in the car when she heard someone whisper her name.

* * *

Sheriff Marlow was finishing up the paperwork to release
Bo and Pete, the local drunks he’d arrested after a crash. They’d both bonded
out, and were now sober and penitent, sorry as they could be with their decision
to break into the Church of the Firstborn to bathe in the baptismal font so that
when they went home, their wives wouldn’t know they’d been drinking. He signed
his name, handed a copy of the paperwork to the bondsman and then told the
jailer to let them go. A few moments later they came out, still apologizing to
anyone who would listen.

Thinking he would finally get a chance to finish the breakfast
he’d been trying to eat for the past two hours, Marlow picked up his ham-and-egg
sandwich and sat down with a thump. Just as he was about to take a big bite, the
door opened. He saw the man walking in and wrapped the sandwich back up.

“Didn’t expect to see you in town,” he said, eyeing the
fine-looking gray Stetson and sheepskin coat Lincoln Fox was wearing and wishing
he had an outfit like it.

Linc didn’t bother answering. He had an agenda, and that was
all that mattered.

“What do I need to do to get a copy of everything in my case
file?”

Marlow wasn’t surprised by the question, considering why Fox
had come back, but he eyed his food regretfully. This was definitely going to
take longer than he would have liked.

“That was eighteen years ago,” he said.

“I didn’t ask how long ago it happened. I asked for a copy of
the report,” Linc said.

Marlow blinked. So the man was still pissed because he’d
doubted his word about Prince White being the stalker.

“It’s in storage somewhere in the back room.”

“I’ll wait,” Linc said as he took off his coat and hat and sat
down in a chair near the door.

Marlow sighed. “We don’t have a secretary around here. I’ll
have to get it myself.”

Linc’s eyes narrowed.

Marlow sighed. “It’ll take a while to find. You can come back
later, if you’d like.”

“I’ll wait,” Linc said again.

Marlow glared, picked up his sandwich and took a big bite as he
walked out of the room.

Linc glared at his retreating back. He didn’t care how pissed
off the sheriff got.

He could hear voices coming from the back, then a lot of doors
banging and the sounds of furniture or boxes being moved. He eyed a Wanted
poster tacked up on a corkboard behind Marlow’s desk and then folded his arms
across his chest and leaned back in his chair.

Fifteen minutes passed.

Two people came inside looking for the sheriff, eyed Linc
curiously and then muttered something about coming back later.

Five more minutes came and went before Marlow returned, the
front of his shirt and pants smeared with dust and a file clutched in his
fist.

“Gotta make copies,” he said, and headed for the copier.

Linc watched without comment.

Finally the duplicate was ready. Marlow slid a form across his
desk and held out a pen.

“You need to sign this. It says I gave you a copy of the
file.”

Linc stood, put on his hat and coat, and then headed for the
desk. He signed, picked up the stack of papers and slid them into the file
folder the sheriff offered. “Where do I go to get a transcript of the
trial?”