Digital ISBNs
EPUB 978-1-77299-748-4
Kindle 978-1-77299-749-1
WEB 978-1-77299-750-7
Print ISBN 978-1-77299-129-1
Amazon Print ISBN 978-1-77299-380-6
Copyright 2014 by Jude Pittman
Cover by Michelle Lee
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.
To My Brother Ken Sullivan who is always first in line to buy my books
“Funny thing,” Kelly McWinter said after taking a healthy drink from his longneck and placing the bottle back on the wooden picnic table. “I’ve been having the strangest dreams. Well, more like nightmares I guess you’d call them.”
“What, or should I say who, have you been dreaming about?”
“Stella. And wipe that stupid grin off your face. They’re not those kinds of dreams.”
Kelly had dropped into the Hideaway Bar and Barbecue to share a cold one with his old friend Cam Belcher, and the two had taken to reminiscing. They both missed their old friend Anna Davis, and it still didn’t seem possible she’d been gone almost three years.
The Hideaway was an institution at Indian Creek and sure as hell, it was Cam Belcher’s pride and joy. Stepping inside was like taking a trip down memory lane. The décor—a tribute to the owner's passion for country music and country living—was a potpourri of tools and implements from the turn of the century. Cam proudly displayed his collection of antique beer wagons in a glass case behind the bar. His piece-de-resistance was the cherished replica of the Budweiser Clydesdales rigged out in full harness.
Even the ceiling bore witness to Cam's passion. Glossy black and white photos of Hank Williams, Patsy Cline, Faron Young and a whole slew of long-dead country favorites smiled down on the patrons.
The patio, added after Cam’s folks retired and left the place to Cam had a fancy barbecue pit, charcoal smoker and raised platform stage had been an instant hit and the row of outdoor booths flanking the stage allowed non-smokers like Kelly an opportunity to join the fun while still preserving their lungs.
“Well don’t leave me hanging, what did you dream about?”
“It was creepy. Anna was standing at the creek pouring a bottle of whiskey into the river and Bubba come up behind her and pushed her into the water. Thing is, she was pregnant.”
Cam let out a snort of laughter. “If she pulled that one off she'd be famous for sure. Anna must have been at least 55 when she died, and I don’t care if she’d been 100, there’s no way she’d have let ol’ Bubba or anyone else knock her up fer God’s sake, and as for Bubba pushing her into the creek, I’da like to have seen him try.”
“I know. I told you, it was a dream. It didn’t make any sense.”
“I thought it was about Stella.”
“It was. That was after. Bubba pulled Anna back outta the creek and the next thing is Stella came tearing down the hill screaming bloody murder, wacked Bubba alongside the head and then they all tumbled back in the creek.”
“Damn. You better stop eating pepperoni before you go to bed.”
“Sure as hell don’t want another one like that. It’s probably one of those Mercury in Retrograde things. Weird shit’s been going on all week.”
Cam looked up through the pecan trees to where the moon bathed their branches in gleaming silver. Then he turned to Kelly and grinned. “What’s that old superstition about pale riders and moonlit nights?”
Kelly threw back his head and laughed. “Now don’t you get started. I’ve about dealing with people wanting this found and that served and everyone in the whole damn county trying to sue the pants off everyone else. I got a case in Amarillo starts up the end of the month and I’m determined not to take anything else until then. I'm going to spend the next week sleeping till noon and fishing till dusk.
“I gotta get back in there and relieve Susan. She ain’t ever going to be no Darlene but don’t look a gift horse in the mouth I say. She wants some extra money to take the kids to Disneyland so she’s offered to stay the rest of the month. I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do then.”
“Something’ll come up it always does.”
“So you say. Well you just mark my words about that fishcation y’all are planning on taking. Best laid plans of mice and men and all that.”
“Oh you’re a bundle of cheer, you are.” Come on Jake,” Kelly called his black-and-tan German shepherd back from where he’d been sitting at the foot of a pecan tree waiting for a red squirrel to make a mistake.
“Might as well forget about him,” Kelly chuckled at the dog. “He’s an old guy that one, way too smart for you trick into a misstep.”
Jake shook his head and joined his master. Or, as Kelly liked to put it, Jake was his dog but the question of who was open to debate. The dog sported one ragged ear and enough scars to show he’d been around and he was all the family Kelly had left now that Lynda and his mom were both dead.
Marcy slipped the peach chiffon over her head, smoothed it down her hips and peered into the full-length mirror. A frown tugged at her lips and her eyes focused on the bulge below her waist.
“Darn,” she muttered. “It shows already.”
Tonight, over a romantic dinner, she planned to tell Alex about the baby and she didn’t want him guessing beforehand.
Not long now. She glanced at her watch. In the bathroom, she applied makeup and took a brush to her short curly hair—finishing it off with a few tendrils pulled around her face. After fastening a gold chain around her neck, she slipped her feet into high- heeled sandals and stood back to inspect the results. Satisfied, she turned out the vanity light and hurried into the living room. She’d made reservations at Mystique Taverna for nine and it was nearly eight but Alex still hadn’t arrived.
“I should’ve made them for ten,” she muttered, pulling aside the draperies and peering out at the street.
The phone rang her and she reached over to answer it. “Hello!”
“Marcy, how are you sweetheart? I haven’t heard from you in ages.” The caller’s husky drawl brought a smile to Marcy’s lips.
“Hi, Aunt Stella,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to call you but it’s been crazy around here. I just finished filming a video and tonight’s the first night I’ve had free in a month.”
“You’ve been working too hard,” Stella scolded. “Why don’t you come to Houston and spend some time with me?”
“Oh, Aunt Stella, I’d love to but I have a complication in my life right now that’s going to require most of my attention for the next seven months.”
“You’re not?” Stella gave a delighted shout. “Why you little rascal, I’d given up hope of ever being a Great-Auntie Stella.”
Marcy laughed. At thirty-eight, Stella was more like an elder sister than an aunt. It hadn’t taken her a minute to figure out what the seven months implied and she wasn’t the least bit shocked.
“I wish your reaction was what I could expect from the rest of my family,” Marcy said.
“Pooh on that bunch of old fogies, you let me take care of the family. Now tell me. When is your due date and what are your plans? Why not stay with me while you make up your mind?”
“Let me catch my breath,” Marcy said, laughing at Stella’s exuberance. “I don’t know what I’m going to do yet. I haven’t told the father and it’s just possible he might have some ideas along those lines.”
“Oh, men! What do they know about having babies? Okay, I won’t push you but give it some thought. I’m going nuts rattling around in this ten-room house by myself. I’d love to have you stay with me until the baby comes—and for as long after as you want. I’m sure you know you’re always welcome.”
“Thank you!” Marcy’s voice caught in her throat. “You’re wonderful, Aunt Stella and I promise, I’ll call you just as soon as I’ve had a chance to talk to Alex.”
“Alex Wyatt!” Stella snapped the name.
“I know you don’t like him.” Marcy swallowed to keep the hurt out of her voice. “But I love him so much and I know he’s going to make a wonderful father.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Stella hurriedly retracted the angry words she’d spoken at the mention of Alex’s name. “I didn’t mean to snarl. I don’t care who the father is as long as he takes care of you. When are you planning to tell him?”
“Tonight. We’re going out for dinner. I’ll tell him then.”
“Well, good luck, kid and call me later, will you?”
“I will, Aunt Stella. And thanks.”
* * *
Stella hung up the telephone and grabbed a pillow off of the sofa. “Damn,” she cursed, punching her fist into the pillow. “That son of a bitch is going to break her heart.”
Clamping a cigarette between her lips, she pulled open the top drawer of her desk and grabbed a thick address book. Opening the book, she flipped rapidly through the pages to the name McWinter. Marking the spot with a finger, she reached for the phone and with a sharp red fingernail and tapped out a number.
Kelly McWinter was the Fort Worth detective who’d been instrumental in catching the murderer of Stella’s husband and sister-in-law the previous year. He had become a friend during the long months of the investigation. He’d promised to be there if Stella ever needed his help and right now seemed like a good time to test the promise.
“Be there,” Stella muttered as she counted the rings.
“Hello,” Kelly’s soft drawl sent a tingle down her spine.
“Kelly! Thank God! I was afraid you’d be away on a job.”
“Hi, Stella,” Kelly’s voice warmed with recognition. “Must be that ESP of yours,” he said. “I just got back from Beaumont this morning.”
“I need you to check someone out for me.”
“You’ve only got to ask.”
“It’s my niece, Marcy. She’s gotten herself pregnant by a jerk named Alex Wyatt. He’s married and I’ve heard a few rumors about him that have me worried. Maybe you’ve heard of his wife? She’s Lorena Miller, daughter of one of those Texas oil millionaires.”
“Can’t say as I have but then I don’t exactly move in those circles.”
“Smart man,” Stella mumbled. “Alex and Lorena are supposed to be big news with the Dallas social set and I thought maybe you could do some checking on him. Alex will probably give Marcy the brush-off as soon as he finds out about the baby but I’d like to know a bit more about him just in case.”
“Consider it done,” Kelly said. “I’ll get hold of Jim Forbes. He’s a friend of mine on the Dallas PD. If there’s any dirt on Wyatt, Jim will dig it out.”
“Thanks, Kelly. I knew I could count on you.”
“No problem. I’ll try to get hold of him tonight. Now, before I let you off the line, I have a favor to ask. I’ve been talking to the recruiter at American Mutual Indemnity in Sugar Land. They need another investigator on their staff and I have an appointment on Monday. I thought it might be fun to combine business with the pleasure of your company—that is, if you can put me up for a couple of days?”
“Can I? You know damn well I can. Besides, having you around will take my mind off Marcy’s troubles. And don’t forget to bring that mutt Jake along.”
“Good! I’ll have a talk with Jim tonight and, depending on how fast he can dig up the information on Wyatt, I’ll see you either late tomorrow afternoon or early evening.”
“Wonderful! I’ll be waiting.”
* * *
After her talk with Stella, Marcy hung up the phone and lay back down on the bed. Stella’s reserve about Alex had intensified her own fears but she absolutely refused to believe he wouldn’t be happy about their baby. Months ago, he’d told her Lorena refused to get pregnant because it might spoil her figure and there’d been real bitterness in his voice. Marcy was sure he’d go ahead with a divorce once he heard the news.
From the living room came sounds of Alex moving around. Slipping into her dress, Marcy smoothed her hair one last time and hurried to meet him.
In the car, Alex drove with one hand on the wheel and the other stroking her thigh. “I see you’ve climbed a couple more notches up the charts,” he said.
Marcy nodded. “Mike’s thinking about having me do a single but I don’t know if I’m ready right now. I may take a few months off.”
“Better not.” He shook his head. “The public’s fickle and you need to strike while the group’s hot. If I were you, I’d listen to Mike. He’s the best there is. That’s why I’ve got him working for Miller-Wyatt.”
Marcy kept her thoughts to herself. She was sure Alex would change his mind once he knew she was pregnant. He wouldn’t want her endangering the baby by going through those long, grueling recording sessions.
The car lurched and swerved. “Shit,” Alex snapped and jerked the wheel. “I think I’ve got a flat.”
“Oh, no! It’s twenty to ten. What will the people at Mystique think if I have to call them again?”
“Screw Mystique. It’ll probably take an hour for the auto club to get here this time of night. I’ll have to change the damn thing myself.”
He got out of the car and bent down to look at the tire. “It’s flat all right,” he muttered, reaching inside to pull the keys. “You better get out while I jack it up.”
Alex opened the trunk and took out the tire bar and lug wrench. “Hold onto these while I get this tire out of here,” he said, handing her the tools and bending over to grab the spare. Marcy followed him to the front of the car and dutifully handed him the tire bar.
“I feel like a nurse,” she giggled.
Alex grunted and bent to the job of removing the lugs and pulling off the old tire. After he had the new tire in place, he tightened the lug nuts and handed her the wrench. “Put those back in the trunk,” he snapped.
Marcy replaced them and grabbed a rag from the box. “Here, you can wipe your hands,” she said when he’d finished storing the tire.
He grunted and grabbed the rag. “What time is it?” he asked.
“Ten minutes to ten. That didn’t take long. We should get there right on time.”
“Hell of a way to start the night,” he muttered.
Marcy climbed into the car and shut her eyes. She’d wanted tonight to be so perfect but the flat tire had put a damper on things. Alex’s good mood had evaporated and a headache had started pounding away at her temples.
* * *
They rode the rest of the way in silence. Marcy kept her eyes closed until Alex swerved into Mystique’s driveway and stopped the car. The Taverna, a long low building, painted deep Mediterranean blue, had two Romanesque columns marking the entrance to a circular drive. Mystique had been etched into the black woodwork and a brass ring hung from the set of double doors.
After turning the car over to a valet, Alex grasped Marcy’s elbow and guided her up the short flight of stone steps.
“Ready?” He smiled down at her.
She nodded and Alex pulled the ring. The doors swung open, admitting them into a cool, dim foyer with frescoed walls and plush green carpeting.
“Good evening, Mr. Wyatt.” A smiling maître d’ stepped forward. “You’re looking charming this evening, Miss Benson.”
“Thank you,” Marcy acknowledged the compliment.
Alex kept his hand pressed against her waist as they crossed the room to an intimate table set up on one of the small platforms surrounding the main dining area.
Marcy and Alex smiled and nodded to mutual acquaintances as they crossed the room. At the table, a waiter appeared with a menu. “Mr. Marston has ordered a bottle of Andre Brunel Cotes Du Rhone for you and Miss Benson,” he said, motioning toward a thin, gray-haired man with wire-rimmed spectacles and a beak nose, who was cuddled up to an attractive brunette at the opposite side of the platform.
Alex turned and waved a thank you. “We’ll start with a gin martini and a daiquiri,” he said. “I’ll give you our order later.”
Handing back the menu, Alex turned to Marcy. “Is that okay with you?” he asked. Marcy hesitated, then said to the waiter, “I’d like that daiquiri virgin, please.”
He nodded and went to fill their order.
Alex leaned his elbows on the crisp white cloth, reached for the centerpiece — a cornucopia of fresh fruit and crimson dahlias—and shoved it aside. “You’re not going to be a drag are you?” His eyes gripped hers.
“I’ve got a bit of a headache.” She flushed uncomfortably. “I’ll feel better after I have something to eat.”
Alex nodded. “I’ll go have a word with Kenneth,” he said, rising to leave the table.
Marcy smiled wearily. She frequently spent half the night sitting alone while Alex table-hopped. Watching him cross the floor, she felt tightness in her chest. He was so good-looking—tall and slender with thick, blond hair and piercing blue eyes set off by a deeply tanned face.
A lot of women yearned to be in Marcy’s shoes and as she watched Alex cross to the table occupied by Winn and Theresa Gordon, the memory of a rumor she’d heard sprung to mind. Winn was a sales representative for Wyatt Recording and Alex had spent a weekend at the Gordons’ ranch a couple months ago. One of the rumors circulating at Wyatt Recording was that Winn had been out of town the weekend Alex paid his visit.
Watching him greet the Gordons, Marcy wondered about Winn—a colorless, nondescript, little man who paled beside Theresa — a cool, elegant brunette with hungry eyes. Rumor had it she’d slept with half the men at Wyatt Recording. Marcy had put the rumors down to jealous gossip but now, watching Theresa plaster herself against Alex, she wondered.
Turning away, Marcy’s mind wandered back to her first date with Alex. She’d grown up in the small town of Maryville, Tennessee and after winning a talent contest sponsored by a local radio station, she’d received an invitation to audition with the Livewires, a hot new country rock band from Nashville. They’d loved her voice and hired her on the spot. Her father had ranted when she told him but Marcy had refused to give up the job. Leaving her mother to deal with her dad’s anger, she’d moved to Nashville. Marcy had met Alex, the Dallas-based owner of Wyatt Recording when he’d stopped by the studio to watch a recording session and when he invited her out to dinner, she’d awkwardly accepted.
For their first date, he’d picked her up in a limousine and taken her on the General Jackson. It had been Marcy’s first time on a riverboat and she’d been thrilled. Alex had told her he was married but that he and his wife lived separate lives. She’d had some qualms but Alex had been a perfect gentleman and they’d had a wonderful time. After the date, he’d sent her two dozen, long-stemmed red roses and the deliveries had continued all week.
The following Saturday, when he called for another date, Marcy had laughingly told him that if he didn’t stop the deliveries, she was going to have to move or open a flower shop.
“You seem deep in thought,” Alex said, returning to the table.
Marcy smiled up at him. “I was thinking about our first date and all those roses you sent me.”
Alex grinned. He liked being the center of her thoughts.
“Are you ready to order, sir?” The waiter appeared at Alex’s elbow.
“I think so. We’ll start with a spanakopita, then Greek salad and the arni psito, I think.”
“Very good.” The waiter noted the order in his little book. “Would you care for the wine now?” he asked. “Or do you wish another cocktail?”
“The wine,” Alex replied.
The waiter hurried off and Alex turned back to Marcy. “Okay,” he said. “You’ve got something on your mind. I can tell by the way you’ve been moping. Let’s get it over with, shall we? Then maybe we can enjoy our dinner.”
Marcy’s face dropped. She hadn’t realized her anxiety was so obvious. “I’m going to have a baby.” She surprised herself by blurting it out.
Alex stared. His hand reached for his glass and he drained the rest of his drink. “When?”
Marcy laughed. “Not for another seven months.”
“Good!” He set his glass back on the table. “You’ll have plenty of time to get an abortion. I’ll find you a good doctor.”
Marcy recoiled as if she’d been slapped. Her face blanched and tears rushed to her eyes.
“What’s the matter?” Alex’s eyes searched her face. “Are you going to be sick?” Marcy shook her head. She couldn’t speak.
“You’re not going to be stupid about this, are you?” he growled. “Surely you know a baby is out of the question.” Alex seemed genuinely confused. “Damn!” He dug in his pocket for his cigar case.
“I will not kill my baby.” Hysteria rose in Marcy’s throat. She fought it down and forced herself to meet his eyes.
Alex shook his head. “Fuck!” He slammed his case down on the table.
Marcy stood up and clutched her stomach, as if to shield the baby. “I’m going to have this baby and nothing you say or do is going to stop me.”
A hush fell over the dining room and several heads turned toward their table but Marcy kept her eyes fixed on Alex. Tears streamed down her face. “I never want to see you again,” she choked, grabbing her bag and starting down the steps.
“Wait a minute.” Alex jumped up and reached for her arm.
Marcy jerked away from him, eyes blazing. “If you so much as touch me, I’ll kill you,” she shrieked.
An elderly woman, passing their table, gasped and clamped her hand to her mouth. Ignoring the woman, Marcy whirled and raced for the lobby.
“Please call me a taxi,” she sobbed to the bewildered maître d’ before she raced out of the restaurant.
* * *
After giving Jim Forbes a call and asking him to dig up whatever he could find on Alex Wyatt, Kelly pulled on his boots and grabbed a jacket from the closet.
“Best get over there,” he said and opened the door. Jake bounded down the steps to take the lead and the two of them jogged down the driveway.
At the foot of the bridge across Indian Creek, Kelly stopped and leaned against a railing. Down below stood the ramshackle old building that had served as Bubba’s Bait House. During the cold winter months, Bubba and a regular group of Indian Creek’s hardiest fishermen passed the time by cursing the weather and consuming endless cups of black coffee.
Up the hill from Bubba’s Bait House was the Hideaway, a ramshackle old beer-and barbecue joint owned by Kelly’s best friend, Cameron Belcher. The Hideaway had been a fixture at Indian Creek since before Texas joined the Union, the center of Indian Creek’s social life from the day it opened.
When Cam took it over, he’d spruced up the original buildings a bit but he’d been smart enough to disguise the modernizing. Because of that, the old bar looked much the same today as it had in his grandfather’s day despite having many modern conveniences.
Six years ago, when Kelly first came to the Creek, he’d been looking for a place of exile—somewhere he could hide and heal the wounds of losing his wife and walking away from his job with the Fort Worth Police Department. Over the years, he’d formed a tight bond with the Creek people, especially Cam and Bubba. Last year had been a tough one for all of them and there’d been times when Kelly’s involvement in a murder investigation had shaken the Creek residents to the core and severely challenged those friendships.
It had been a hell of a year and one Kelly wouldn’t soon forget. He’d fallen in love for the first time since his wife Lynda had died, he’d been reunited with his old friend and former partner, Detective Augustus Graham and in the course of solving the case, he’d finally lain to rest some of the ghosts from his own past.
Guess I’d better get moving. Kelly shook himself out of his reverie and stepped back from the rail.
With Jake bounding ahead, Kelly trudged up the hill, climbed the front porch and pulled open the heavy wooden door. Smoke and country music drifted through the doorway, followed by Cam’s upraised voice.
“There you are, Kelly. I was about ready to send out a posse.”
Kelly lifted a hand to acknowledge Cam’s greeting and strode across the room to where Bubba, a sawn off shrimp with the face of a mischievous boy, held out a chair at the big round table Cam reserved for regulars.
“How’s it going, Bubba?” Kelly took the little guy’s hand in a firm grip.
“Ain’t got no cause to complain.” Bubba flashed his grin.
“So what about you, Kelly?” Cam asked. “I hear you’ve got your PI ticket and you’ve told Shorty to start looking for a replacement security guard for the flea market.”
“That’s right. I’ve been checking out a couple of deals. If they pan out, I’ll have plenty of work but still keep my independence.”
“The offer to tag along with me to my new fish camp is still open,” Bubba said, jumping into the conversation.
“I know it is.” Kelly gave him a warm smile. “But somehow I can’t see myself moving out of Texas. I’ve got an appointment with an insurance company down in Sugar Land. Matter of fact, I’m leaving for Houston in the morning. I’ll spend the weekend with Stella and meet with their managing partner on Monday.”
“What about your cabin here?” Cam asked. “Are you gonna keep it?”
“Oh, sure. The insurance company deal doesn’t call for me to relocate. I’d still live here at Indian Creek. I’ll just be traveling a bit more.”
“I still think you ought a give Oregon a try,” Bubba grumbled. “Who knows though?” He brightened. “Maybe in a year or two you’ll get tired of chasing crooks and I’ll figure a way to lure you out there.”
They all laughed and Cam picked up his mug. “Beer’s getting flat,” he said. “Here’s to Anna. She was a hell of a woman. We won’t forget her.”
“Anna!” Kelly and Bubba lifted their glasses to clink with Cam’s.
After he’d drained his glass, Kelly set it down on the table and pushed back his chair. “I’ll be leaving about six in the morning,” he said, “so I’d best be hitting the sack. I’ll catch you both when I get back in town.”
“See ya, Kelly,” they said in unison.
“Do you want me to keep an eye on Jake?” Bubba asked.
“Thanks but I guess I’ll take him along this trip. Stella said he’d be welcome and I figured he’d enjoy a change of scene.”
“Say... where is Jake?” Cam asked.
Kelly shrugged. “He hightailed it over to your house. Isn’t this the day Mrs. Torbett comes to clean your cabin and do your baking for the week?”
“Yep, damn sure is.” Cam chuckled. “That dog’s more person than animal,” he said and Bubba nodded agreement.
Jake was a German shepherd crossbreed that’d shown up on Kelly’s porch right after he’d started to work as a security guard at the Indian Creek flea market. He and Kelly had taken a shine to each other and they’d been inseparable ever since.
On the way back to his cabin, Kelly walked slowly, savoring the crisp night air. The moon glowed full in the sky and along the path, poplar trees decked in reds and golds brushed against deep green spruce. Marsh grasses, brittle from an early frost, sheltered the downy heads of bulrushes. On the water, a family of ducks floated along the glassy surface. The night held a special magic and Kelly’s thoughts turned to Lynda, the wife he’d lost in a fire six years ago. Surrendering to his memories, Kelly strolled slowly along the path until Jake, tearing out of the woods, danced a jig around his legs and brought him back to the present.