I'll Be There Read online

  Her words had gone all soft so that he could hardly make out the last words over the hum of the engine. He looked in the rearview. She had her hands on both sides of her head and her eyes were closed.

  “You can trust me,” he whispered. No matter how that promise might be tested, he knew he’d do whatever it took to keep her safe. This time would be different.

  Chapter 5

  “Come in folks, come in,” Dixie invited.

  Snow blew Clara and a familiar-looking stranger into the deserted diner.

  “This snowstorm’s coming on stronger than a buck in a herd of does in heat! Have a seat here at the counter.”

  “Dixie, this is Jenny Thompson’s sister, Frances,” Clara said.

  The young brunette who looked so much like her sister came forward, hand extended. “Frannie, please. You must be Dixie. My sister spoke fondly of you.”

  Dixie so hated promoting this lie, but knew that it was best for everyone concerned. “Frannie.” She took the young woman’s hand in both of hers. “Of course, we met briefly at the memorial service, but I’m sure you met so many people that day...”

  “I do remember the food you provided looked wonderful.”

  Dixie nodded. “Jenny spoke of you so often, I feel like I already know you. I’m so sorry for your loss,” she added, and she was truly sorry. Regardless of whether or not Jenny was actually dead, she was gone forever to her sister and everyone who loved her.

  “Thank you.”

  “Let me get you some coffee,” Dixie suggested, setting thick white mugs in front of the two women. “With this snowstorm rolling in so fast, I was just bagging up the special thinking that folks might want to take something with them on their way home. As you can see, my lunch crowd has fled. I’ve got stew and cornbread muffins.”

  “Sounds good,” Frannie said.

  “How about you, Clara?”

  “Your stew always hits the spot. Thanks, Dixie.”

  “You’re a dear, Clara. Coming right up.”

  Dixie poured the coffee, then turned to dish up two bowls of soup from a crock pot. She placed cornbread muffins on a plate and put it all on the counter in front of Frannie and Clara.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but the sheriff asked me to wait here for him. He had some business to take care of before he could speak with me about my sister’s... um, her—”

  “Accident,” Dixie supplied.

  “Is that what folks around here are calling it?” Frannie asked.

  “Well, folks around here haven’t said much at all since the memorial service, like we’re all supposed to go on like nothing happened.”

  Fuzz Rhoton sidled up to the bar and leaned in. “If you ask me, I don’t think it was an accident at all.”

  Dixie cocked a hand on her hip. “Well, hello Fuzz. I didn’t see you come in.”

  Fuzz thumbed in the direction of Henry Harris who was just joining them at the lunch counter. “Sheriff asked me to find the Constable, and I figured he’d be here having lunch.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Henry chimed in.

  “Not since I took over the diner from my folks has he missed a meal, not unless he’s in bed sick, and then he calls for delivery.”

  Henry chuckled, but Fuzz steered the conversation back by saying, “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but if you don’t mind me sayin’, none of the facts of what happened to your sister adds up.”

  Frannie said nothing, so deciding to play along so as not to arouse suspicion, Dixie said, “I’m sure it’s nothing folks haven’t been thinking for months.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea to speculate,” Clara interjected, looking very uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken.

  Dixie laughed. “Since when did you know me to not speculate? I mean, this whole thing shouts conspiracy theory, and you know I love a good conspiracy theory.”

  “Hold on there, Dixie. Did I hear you right? Did you say ‘conspiracy theory’?”

  “Fuzz, it’s like you said, and you know as well as anybody things don’t add up in all of this since you were helping out the sheriff’s department when all of that mess of break-ins and reckless driving incidents were going on last fall. Who ever heard of a gas line explosion that only takes out one office in a line of buildings that are all connected?”

  Frannie sat listening carefully, eyes wide.

  “I’d say I’m not qualified to make such an assessment,” Fuzz said, “but I can tell you that a number of agencies from local law enforcement assessed the damage at the newspaper, and we have to believe that what they said was accurate.”

  “Mm-hmm. What I’m saying is that I have a brain in my head, and I’m capable of drawing my own conclusions. It makes no sense. Just like we know that Marilyn Monroe didn’t kill herself. You know that Frank Sinatra had her killed because she knew too much about his connections to the mob. And you further know that Prince Phillip had Princess Diana killed because, Lord knows, you can’t have the future king of England being raised by a Muslim. Drunk driver, my hind leg. Plus they hated Princess Di. She was gorgeous and they all look like horses. And for the love of Kenny Chesney, if you are the Queen of England, can you not buy a cute purse? She has been carrying the same hideous bag for the past forty years—”

  Fuzz held up his hand, halting the steady stream of words. “Could we bring this back to the explosion at the newspaper?”

  “Oh, sorry. I do get carried away.”

  “You know, it was right after Candi Heart moved to town that a string of crimes was committed. I never seen anything like it around here.”

  “Really?” Frannie said.

  Since he brought it up, Dixie nodded, leaning a hip against the counter. “Candi came to town and within a month, there was a reckless driving incident where Candi and the sheriff were nearly killed, and Candi’s shop was broken into twice before she even had her grand opening.”

  “And I heard that some hateful things were spray painted on the walls of her shop,” Fuzz added.

  “Were these crimes investigated?” Frannie asked.

  “Of course,” Clara said.

  “And were any arrests made?”

  “That’s the thing,” Fuzz said, “no arrests were ever made.”

  “The investigation is ongoing,” Clara corrected.

  “That’s why I’m here,” Frannie said. “To find out what has happened since—since the explosion.”

  “If you ask me, I believe there’s a connection to all that happened with Candi Heart last fall and the explosion that killed Jenny Thompson,” Fuzz said.

  “No one asked you, Fuzz,” Clara said, giving the man a pointed look.

  “Have there been any more incidents of crime in town since the explosion?”

  “No,” Dixie replied. “Like I said, things have been real quiet around here.”

  “Strange if you ask me. Seems like they got the one they wanted to keep quiet and left,” Fuzz said.

  “Again, no one asked you, Fuzz,” Clara pointed out.

  “Anyway, we all miss Jenny very much, and we are so, so sorry for your loss. I hope we haven’t upset you with our crazy talk. The bottom line is that your sister was an amazing woman. She made a positive impact on this town, and she was a role model for the young girls around here.” She took Frannie’s hand. “I miss her more than I can say.”

  A mist of tears filled Dixie’s eyes. She pulled a napkin out of one of the holders on the counter and dabbed at the moistness. Frannie leaned over and squeezed her arm. The two women looked at each other, Frannie’s eyes so much like her sister’s, and an instant bond formed between the two.

  “Anyway, if I can be of any help to you while you’re in town, please don’t hesitate to come to me. Given the fact that I run the only diner in town, pretty much all of Angel Ridge comes through here. I know something about just about everyone and everything.”

  “That’s the truth,” Fuzz commented.

  “Fuzz, in this kind of weather, don’t
you have trucks to pull out of ditches with that wrecker of yours?”

  “Yes,” the Constable said. “I should be getting to the Sheriff’s Office.”

  Fuzz, looking disgruntled, pulled on his ball cap and both men sauntered out of the diner.

  “Where will you be staying?” Dixie asked. Frannie had quieted and had a pensive expression on her face as she picked at her food.

  “I suppose I’ll stay at Jenny’s house.”

  Dixie nodded. “You’ll be packing up her things and selling the place, then?”

  “I’m not sure. I had thought of keeping it.”

  “Are you sure about that, hon?” Dixie asked. “If people were out to do your sister harm, then they might be willing to extend their ill-will to you.”

  “Or it could have been an accident like the police report said—a problem with the gas line that caused an explosion,” Clara pointed out.

  Frannie looked back at Dixie. “Yes, I have to agree. I’m just not sure I subscribe to your theories.”

  The two women exchanged a look that conveyed more meaning than words could. Both knew that the whole truth of this matter had not come out, and for Jenny’s protection and theirs, just like in most conspiracy theories, they likely never would.

  Moments after Cord slid into the shopping center parking lot, the passenger side door to the Jeep opened and Grady Wallace got in along with a heavy swirl of snowflakes. Outside the car’s windows, it was a complete white-out.

  “I don’t know what Plan A was, Goins, but you better skip to Plan B.” He turned and looked into the back and said, “Jenny, are you back there somewhere?”

  She pushed back the hood of her sweatshirt and said with a smile, “Sheriff, nice of you to join us.”

  To Cord, he said, “I would have been here sooner, but I thought it prudent to come in an unmarked car. So, I had to stop by my house first.” He looked back at Jenny. “I don’t mean to sound unkind, but you don’t look well, Jenny.”

  She pulled the hood back up. “I suppose I’m as well as could be expected. Who knew when I exposed one of the oldest crime rings in the south, I’d be the one running for my life like some fugitive. How’s that for irony?”

  “It’ll be over soon.”

  “I’ve been hearing that for awhile now.”

  “Could we skip the chitchat? Time’s a luxury we don’t have at the moment,” Cord said.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Grady said. “Let’s get Jenny over to my car.”

  “Wait. I wanted to suggest that I take Jenny up to my cabin, hide her there for the time being. From what I can see, the marshals that she’s been with haven’t done a very good job keeping her safe.”

  “You won’t get any argument from me on that. I have to say I’m shocked that you’d suggest having anyone up at your place, though.”

  Cord shrugged. “It’s an unusual circumstance.”

  Grady nodded. “That it is, but even if I was inclined to agree, there’s a problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Have you looked out your windshield? It’s a blizzard.”

  “Right. I still don’t understand the problem.”

  “Roads out of town up to the mountain you live on are closed. As it is, we’ll be lucky to get back to Angel Ridge. We better get moving.”

  Jenny said. “I can’t go back to Angel Ridge. I signed an agreement when I entered WITSEC saying I wouldn’t go back there.”

  “So she is in Witness Protection.” Cord interjected.

  Jenny and Grady exchanged a look. “Sorry,” she said.

  Grady sighed. “How much have you told him?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I figured out she was in Witness Protection when she told me she was being guarded by marshals. Who’s after her?”

  “I can’t answer that question,” Grady said.

  “It’s the South’s version of the mob,” Jenny supplied. “I uncovered evidence that will put them away, and they want me dead. Thus, I am in witness protection.”

  “Jenny!”

  “What? He did God only knows what to I don’t know how many of them up on that mountain. They’ll probably be after him now.”

  Grady gave her the look of death, but she just gave him a look of her own.

  “As I was saying, Angel Ridge is the only option,” Grady said. “No one’s going anywhere in this snowstorm.”

  “Right,” Cord said. “Nobody gets out either. That’s a problem as well.”

  “Nothing to be done about weather except wait it out,” Grady said. “While we’re snowed in, we’ll come up with a plan to get her somewhere safe when the roads are cleared.”

  “Where will I stay?” Jenny asked. “Everyone thinks I’m dead.”

  “I’ll figure that out while we’re on the road. We have to get moving.”

  “Sheriff, I can get us up to my cabin.”

  “If you want to give it a go, Goins, I can’t stop you, but I won’t let you take Jenny. It’s not safe, and I personally plan to see that she’s kept safe from here on out.”

  “She won’t be in danger,” Cord said.

  “I’m not taking that chance.”

  The two men stared each other down like two predators sizing each other up. Jenny rolled her eyes. “If you two are finished posturing, I’d suggest we get moving before we wind up waiting this weather out in a parking lot. I, for one, don’t want to meet my untimely death at a Wal-Mart, of all places.”

  Grady shook his head and chuckled. “Glad to see your spunk’s still intact, Jenny.”

  “Don’t be condescending, Sheriff. I may be in protective custody, but that doesn’t mean I suddenly lost all wit and intelligence.”

  “No one would ever suggest such a thing, Jenny.” Turning back to Cord, Grady said, “What’s it gonna be, Goins? I can take her off your hands, and you can be on your way.”

  “You’re off the hook, Cord. You can get your supplies and get back to your cabin to wait for spring.” Jenny got to her knees and crawled toward the front in anticipation of following Grady to his vehicle.

  “She can’t get out of the car and walk across the parking lot. It’s too open.”

  “It’ll be fine. The parking lot’s practically empty and you can barely see your hand in front of your face with all the snow,” Jenny said.

  “We can’t assume it’s safe.”

  “He’s right,” Grady said.

  “Great. Perfect.” Just what she needed. More men who thought they knew how to keep her safe. She had to take back her life. Maybe in Angel Ridge, in more familiar surroundings, she’d feel more herself and able to formulate a plan. Like Dixie always said, if you want something done right, do it yourself or find a woman. Luckily, she fit the bill on both counts.

  Jackson checked his cell after hearing the chime indicating he’d received a text message.

  “What is it?”

  “The boss. Says something’s up. We need to be ready to move.”

  “He knows where she is then?”

  “I don’t know. Pack up and be ready to go. Our necks are on the block. Another screw up won’t be tolerated. He’s made that clear.”

  “Right.” Roy checked his gun, making sure the clip was full. He jammed it back in place and said, “Next time will be the last time. She won’t get away again.”

  Chapter 6

  Cord’s cell phone rang; the sound of an old-fashioned telephone ringing. Jenny filed that away as a clue to what made the dark, brooding man tick.

  “Hello... Yeah... No. Not familiar with it... Yeah... Are you sure it’s safe?...”

  At which point a long pause ensued. Jenny folded her arms and rotated her neck. “Want my opinion?”

  That warranted a slight movement of Cord’s head in her direction, but no comment.

  “All right. Make sure no one follows you,” Cord said then disconnected the call. Both hands on the wheel, eyes straight ahead.

  “Where to, James?” The chauffeur reference wasn’t funny,
but it amused Jenny and she chuckled. Might as well laugh. Nothing else she could do... for the moment.

  “Sheriff’s going to meet us at the Craig farm.”

  “Cole Craig’s place?”

  “Yeah. I guess he’s got an old tenant cabin and a lot of property. So, no nosey neighbors to wonder what’s going on.” After a pause, he added, “Grady’s going to get some supplies and meet us there with the owner.”

  Jenny didn’t comment. She wondered what it would be like to be back in Angel Ridge. Just knowing her house and friends were close by gave her a longing so acute she experienced physical pain. Lord, what she wouldn’t give for a long, hot shower and home-cooked meal from Ferguson’s.

  She must have mumbled or moaned, because Cord asked, “You say something?”

  “I’d kill for a slice of chocolate pie from Ferguson’s. Don’t suppose you’d stop by—”

  “Not on the way, and no, I wouldn’t stop anyway. It’s not safe.”

  Just thinking about food from Ferguson’s made Jenny’s stomach grumble loudly. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

  “I’m sure Grady will bring food.”

  Jenny screwed up her mouth, imagining. “Right. Cold canned beans and meat with bottled water to wash it down. What I wouldn’t give for a tall glass of cold sweet tea.”

  That drew a rusty chortle from Cord. “I guess you’ve been away from civilization for awhile.”

  “Long enough to thoroughly appreciate all the things I used to take for granted,” she said in all sincerity. She missed her bed, her clothes, her flat iron, moisturizer. She could go on, but it only made her more miserable, and she refused to wallow in self-pity. As they said, this too would pass. Soon, she’d be permanently relocated or returned to her old life. Either way, a sense of normalcy would return. She could endure this knowing it would end, if she managed to stay alive long enough.