Page 31

Chapter 27

T he truck driver jerked on the wheel and swerved just as Alice pushed me out of its path. Together we crashed onto the Dalzells’ smooth lawn, arms and legs tangling. A few seconds later, the driver stomped around the front of the truck and surveyed us on the ground with a disgusted expression. “What the hell?”

I popped up, checking that Alice was unhurt and brushing grass and gravel off me. I jabbed a finger at him. “My little girl’s in there! She’s sitting in the Jeep, you jackass !”

He backed away from me, looking dubious but appropriately nervous. “I was told to take this vehicle back to Mr. Dalzell’s house in town.”

“Don’t you know better than to tow an occupied car, you brainless motherfucker?!” I screamed, running to the Jeep. I opened the door and Mere fell into my arms. She was sobbing.

The man was shaking his head and muttering to himself as he headed back to the truck.

“Hey!” I yelled at him.

He ignored me and climbed back in the cab.

I pushed Mere toward Alice and charged toward the truck. “What are you doing? That’s my car you’re towing.” Our getaway car. Which also happened to have all our bags in it.

“Actually, it’s mine,” Ox Dalzell said behind me. “The guy who sold it to you happens to be a friend—”

I rolled my eyes. Shocker .

“—and I bought the Jeep for him, but I still hold the title. Lloyd’s got some problems, you know, and I didn’t want him selling it when he got behind at the racetrack.”

I shook my head. “That is absolutely incorrect. That vehicle belonged to Lloyd Childers. He’s been driving it for years. Told me all these stories about off-roading with it. He said he was going to mail me the title when he could get it out of his bank’s safety deposit . . .” I stopped.

“Not very savvy for a New Yorker, are you?” He eyed me sympathetically.

“Fuck you,” I growled.

Ox blinked. “But just as nasty, I see. Look, Mrs. Hope, I’m sorry about the Jeep, but Lloyd’s mother is a friend, and I promised her I’d look after him. I’ll get your money back. And I’ll write you a check if Lloyd’s gambled it away. How’s that?”

I looked over at Alice who was holding onto Mere. “We’ll have to use your car.” And get more supplies, I thought. We couldn’t very well retrieve our go-bags with Ox standing here.

Alice sent me a pained expression. “My car’s in the shop. The carburetor and some belt issues, I think. It wouldn’t start this morning. They said we had to wait on a part.”

Convenient . “I guess we walk back to my house.”

“I’ll have one of the girls give you a ride,” Ox said, pleasant as anything. “I’d do it, but I’ve got some spring cleaning to do. Boo!” Ox bellowed at the house. “Boo!”

Emmaline stuck her head outside the door.

“Drive Mrs. Hope and them back to her house for me, won’t you? Take the Benz. Mama’s, not mine.”

She disappeared, and the next minute a huge, champagne beige tank of a Mercedes rumbled up in a cloud of dust. I sat up front. Alice and Mere sat in the back. “Thanks,” I said to Boo. She just shook her head as if to apologize for her father’s behavior. I barely registered it. I was too busy kicking myself for not getting my daughter and me the hell out of this town when I had the chance.

It was going to be almost impossible now. The old guard had seen to that.

* * *

We were quiet on the way back to town. I propped an elbow on the rolled-down window and chewed on my thumbnail, thinking. In less than a few moments, everything had changed. We couldn’t leave, and there was no telling where Isaac Inman had gotten off to.

So now the game—if that’s what you could call it—hinged on me pretending I still believed Peter was alive and had simply left me. I had to play dumb and somehow figure out how I was going to sneak me, Mere, and Alice out of here without arousing too much suspicion.

We were at the square now, Emmaline’s Mercedes rolling past Billie’s. The place was jam-packed.

“You can pull around to the other side,” I told her. “Drop us down the street.”

She took a quick right at the courthouse and stopped.

“Out we go, baby,” I said to Mere. “Alice and I just need to do a few things before we go back home.” I leaned into Emmaline’s window. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Call me if you need anything else.” She locked eyes with me. “Anything at all. I won’t say a word to my father. Or to anybody else.”

I hesitated, wondering if there was something she wanted to say, but she remained tight-lipped.

“Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate your help.”

As she drove away, I watched Mere skip over to a window box bursting with petunias and proceed to sniff them delicately. I turned to Alice. “I think the old guard getting rid of our cars says it all. They want us to stay in town.”

Alice’s brow creased. “We could go on foot.”

I shook my head. “They’d definitely catch us. And honestly, Alice, I’m not okay with leaving Peter here with these monsters. It’s not right. It’s not fair to him.” I scanned the square, the quaint, tidy buildings that had become a part of my daily routine. “This town was becoming our town, you know? Our home . They don’t get to just take that away from us. I won’t let them. I want to know what’s going on. I have to.”

“What are you suggesting?”

I met her gaze. “We expose them. We make them pay for what they did.”

She looked slightly queasy.

My mind was finally working again, clicking through the facts I knew. “There is someone else we can talk to. Someone who might know why the people in this town are so freaked out about this gold mine. There was something I saw in Jamie’s shop. . . .”

The old photograph in the stack of George Davenport’s papers. The name he had likely scrawled in pencil on the back. I couldn’t recall it, just that they were at UGA.

I glanced across the square. Jamie’s truck was parked in one of the spaces on the street. How was I going to get another look at that photo without him knowing? My phone rang. The number was local, but not one I recognized.

“Mrs. Billie Hope?” The accent was thick, drawling, almost indecipherable.

“Yes?”

“This is Sheriff Frank Childers calling from the Bartow County Sheriff’s Department. Deputy Inman told me you called. He’s working on another case, outside the county, so I wanted to follow up with you and discuss that information you wanted to share.”

“Oh, okay.” I signaled to Alice. Sheriff , I mouthed.

She shook her head in warning, and I nodded my assent. There was no chance in hell I was going to tell this guy anything about Peter.

“Yes, Sheriff Childers—” I said.

“Call me Frank.”

“Okay, Frank, I don’t know if it’s any help or even if it means anything. It’s just that I think there’s some sort of contamination in my house. Like a pollutant or mold or something.”

“Do tell.”

“Yeah, it’s weird. You know my husband has had issues with insomnia then sleeping all the time. Our cat has sort of gone wild. We’ve all had really strange nightmares.”

“That does seem out of the ordinary. So why did you want to speak to Deputy Inman about it? Have you spoken to him about anything else in particular?”

“Oh no. No, I haven’t. I’ve just seen him around the café. And I wanted to let Deputy Inman know about it . . . the contamination. Just in case like maybe . . .” I glanced at Alice who was listening, then over at Mere who was jumping on and off a low brick wall beside the shops. “. . . what happened to George Davenport doesn’t happen to us.”

“Mr. Davenport had a bad case of Alzheimer’s, I believe.”

“Sure. Yeah. Of course. I mean, if that’s what the doctors say. But who knows, you know?”

“Mrs. Hope, I really don’t think there’s anything to be worried about. But if you’d like to look into buying a different house, I’m sure Mayor Dixie can help you with that.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Just trying to be a good citizen. And look out for our health. My family’s health.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I appreciate that. And I do appreciate you calling.”

“Anytime.” I hung up and glanced over at Jamie’s shop. Thought about the photographs again. “Alice,” I said. “I’ve got an idea.”