Fesmire’s BMW was parked on the side of Oak Street just before we got to the main road. Patrick Nolan’s Charger was in front of it, and when we rolled slowly past, we saw the outline of our bad guy in the back seat. And Nolan in the front, patiently waiting to be relieved of his prisoner.
Dix pulled over to the side of the road in front of the Charger, and stopped. Rafe opened his door, and I scrambled out after him. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
He shot me a look over his shoulder. “I’m not stupid enough to take a shot at him in front of a cop.”
Maybe not. But it had to be tempting. This guy had put Mrs. Jenkins inside a plastic bag and thrown her in the river. I wanted to punch him.
“Besides,” Rafe added, “he’s cuffed. I don’t hit people who can’t hit back.”
Good to know.
“I just wanna know who he is. Don’t you?”
I did, actually. So when he made his way over to Nolan’s car, I followed.
Nolan powered down the front window, and his eyebrows rose at the sight of Rafe’s wet state. “You all right, Agent Collier?”
“Fine,” Rafe said.
Nolan swallowed. His rather prominent Adam’s apple bobbed. “Darcy? Her mother?”
“They’re all fine,” I assured him. “They’re right behind us, in Catherine’s minivan. Along with Mother and Mrs. Jenkins. Everyone’s all right.”
“We just wanted a look at your prisoner.” Rafe bent and peered into the backseat. I bent, too. With a little difficulty.
Nolan had stripped the guy of the hood and ski mask, although he was still wearing the wet camouflage coveralls. And Nolan had the heat cranked, probably so the guy wouldn’t freeze to death. Nice of him. I couldn’t find it in myself to care too much, to be honest. This jerk had tried to kill not only Mrs. Jenkins, but me and my unborn baby. And in the process, he might have killed Rafe, Audrey, and Darcy, as well. Why shouldn’t he freeze?
I recognized him. One of the twins from the funeral. The skinnier one, who’d been wearing the gray suit. Not the florid one who’d been yelling at Fesmire.
Although given that this guy had driven here in Fesmire’s car, and we’d watched him throw Mrs. Jenkins in the river, meant that he was in this up to his eyebrows, whether he’d confronted Fesmire at the funeral or not.
Rafe, of course, had met him before. “Lester Hammond. I don’t suppose you’ve got anything to say for yourself?”
Hammond just stared at him. Sullenly.
“Just as well,” Rafe said. “You’ll be booked into the Maury County jail for a bit. I’m sure they’ve got some charges they’d like to lay on you.”
Like kidnapping and a few counts of attempted murder that had happened here in their jurisdiction.
“After that, you’ll be transported back to Nashville where you’ll be charged with the murders of Beverly Bristol, Julia Poole, and Alton Fesmire.”
“I didn’t do nothing to Aunt Beverly,” Lester Hammond growled. “And you can’t prove I had anything to do with what happened to Julia or Doc Fesmire.”
“I guess that means your brother did your aunt while you were keeping Julia busy.” Rafe gave him a tight smile. “And then you did Julia while he took the boat back up to Shelby Park to pick you up.”
Interesting. I hadn’t considered that maybe the murderer had boated away from the park. I’d wondered whether he’d had a car parked there—risky, in case someone saw it and noticed the license plate—or whether he had walked home. Once Rafe had told me that neither of Beverly Bristol’s family members lived in walking distance to the park, I’d settled on the parked car as the solution, risky or not. But this worked, too.
Worked very well, as a matter of fact. Ten minutes on the river, and you’d be in Madison.
I heard the sound of an engine, and then another. Catherine’s minivan was making its way toward us from the river access. When it came alongside, Catherine slowed to a stop and the passenger side window rolled down. “We’re going home,” Mother said, with a look at me and Rafe. To Nolan, she added, “Come to the mansion when you’re finished. Darcy will be there.”
Nolan nodded. “Yes’m.”
The window rolled back up and enclosed my mother, who I thought had done a credible job of imitating Queen Elizabeth. The van rolled on, all the way out on the gravelly side of the road to pass the squad car coming in the other direction.
It went past us, made an eight-point turn, and pulled to a stop beside the Charger. The door opened and sheriff’s deputy Cletus Johnson emerged.
Cletus and Rafe have always had a contentious relationship, mostly due to Cletus’s ex-wife, Marquita, who went to work for Rafe, minding Mrs. Jenkins, after she left Cletus and their kids. And then she ended up dead, which Cletus blamed Rafe for.
I braced myself as I waited for the fireworks to begin. But Cletus didn’t say anything. He gave Rafe a look, but addressed Nolan. “I’m here to transport the prisoner.”
“He’s all yours.” Nolan gestured with his thumb into the backseat of the Charger. Rafe pulled the back door open.
Cletus gave him another look, but didn’t tell him to keep his hands to himself. It was a step in the right direction, I thought. And it wasn’t Rafe who reached in and grabbed Hammond. Cletus did that. Rafe just kept watching as Cletus yanked Hammond out of the car.
The thing is, Rafe simply standing there looking, is enough to make strong men wet their pants. Hammond’s were already wet through and through, so I couldn’t tell if he did, but it wouldn’t surprise me.
“We’ll talk later,” Rafe told him. You could take it as a promise if you wanted, but it sounded more like a threat. And although Hammond tried to act like he wasn’t worried, he couldn’t quite pull it off.
Cletus shoved him into the squad car—making sure not to hit Hammond’s head on the top of the door frame; we didn’t want anyone to be able to scream about police brutality—and closed the door on him. “Thanks,” he told Nolan.
Nolan nodded. “Sorry to make you come in to work on Thanksgiving.”
Cletus shrugged. “Someone has to do it. And the kids are with my mama. They’ll make a plate for me for later. You have a good one.”
He gave Nolan a nod, gave me a nod, and grudgingly, gave Rafe a nod. And got in the squad car and took Lester Hammond away.
“We’ll see you at the mansion,” I told Nolan. He nodded. We got into the Cadillac again, and headed home.
It wasn’t a long drive. Three minutes later we pulled to a stop behind Catherine’s car. The minivan wasn’t here yet, so it must have taken a left beyond the cemetery and gone to Audrey’s house, most likely to give her and Darcy the chance to get out of their wet clothes into something dry. Mother’s clothes weren’t likely to fit either of them—she was too short or they both too tall—and mine weren’t either, at the moment. Hopefully they’d find something to put on Mrs. Jenkins, as well.
“Can you take care of Nolan while we go change?” I asked my brother. “I want Rafe into something dry as soon as possible.”
And I wanted out of my own wet booties and hose.
Dix nodded, as the Charger came up the driveway. “Don’t worry. We’ll find him a beer and make him comfortable. I’m sure Darcy’ll be here soon, too.”
Probably so. “She likes him a lot. So be nice to him.”
“I was nice to your boyfriend,” Dix said, “wasn’t I?”
Rafe arched a brow but didn’t say anything.
Dix added, “Even that jerk you married. The other one. I was nice to him, too.”
I guess he had been. At least until Bradley cheated on me and wanted a divorce. “So you’ll be nice to Nolan. And not screw things up for Darcy.”
Dix nodded.
“Is Grimaldi coming?”
He checked his watch. “She’d probably halfway here by now.”
Good. It wasn’t how I had planned for things to go, but I was still happy that Grimaldi was coming. At least she’d be able to spend a little time with us before she had to interrogate Hammond, and maybe take him back to Nashville with her.
As the Charger pulled to a stop behind the Cadillac, Rafe and I headed up the stairs to the front door, and then—after greeting Pearl—up to the second floor.
“Strip,” I told him in the hallway. “Go straight into the shower. Make it hot. Just drop your clothes on the floor. I’ll get them.”
“I think I should prob’ly strip down in the bathroom. I think your brother-in-law’s here somewhere. With all the kids.”
He had a point. “Maybe that’s a good idea. I’ll wait until I hear the water running and come get your wet clothes. Don’t lock the door.”
“You could join me.” He winked.
I could. It was tempting. After worrying that I’d lost him, and almost being stuck in a sinking car myself, making love sounded nice. The closeness. His arms around me. But to be honest, I wasn’t feeling that great. My back hurt. So did my stomach, a little bit, around the bottom. I’d probably banged it trying to get over the backseat in Dix’s car. No surprise, the way I’d been twisting and turning. And I was feeling sort of nauseous. A result of the stress, no doubt.
Maybe I needed to eat something.
And anyway, satisfying shower sex was pretty much impossible at this stage of the game no matter how I felt. Bed sex was so much better.
“Tonight,” I told him. “There are a lot of people here right now. I feel weird.”
He gave me a closer look. “You all right?”
I smiled. “Fine. Just a little tired from all the activity. And stress.”
He nodded. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“I’ll find some dry clothes for you,” I said, and waited until he’d disappeared behind the bathroom door before I headed into our bedroom. He hadn’t brought a change of clothes beyond jeans and T-shirts—the nice clothes he’d brought for dinner were now a sodden mess on the bathroom tile—so I laid out a pair of jeans and a long sleeved Henley with dry socks and underwear. When I made my way across the hall on bare feet, he was in the shower, humming.
“I’m taking your clothes,” I told the shower curtain, gathering them up. “You have dry ones on the bed.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
I took him at his word, and went back into the bedroom to wait. And lo and behold, a minute later he wandered in, with one of Mother’s fluffy towels wrapped around his waist. Looking at him wasn’t as good as making love in the shower, or on the bed, but it made me feel better to see him safe and whole. And the fact that he was mostly naked gave me a nice little tingle.
I smiled. He smiled back. “All right?”
“Fine,” I said. “I just need some food, and some time to relax. And everything will be OK again.”
He nodded. “You watching me change?”
I told him I thought I might.
“Wanna turn on some music before I get started?” He started humming the windup to You Can Keep Your Hat On, complete with hip movements.
“I think we can save that until we’re in our own house,” I said primly, “don’t you? There are too many people here. And kids.” And even if I would be happy to watch him strip, they wouldn’t.
“We’re gonna have to get used to that,” Rafe told me. But he dropped the towel without music, other than the one he was making himself.
I smiled appreciatively. He chuckled, and reached for the underwear. He doesn’t always wear it, but since we were in my mother’s house, I didn’t feel right about sending him downstairs without any. Even if Mother would never know the difference, I would.
He lifted the jeans next, and looked at them. “Guess I won’t be impressing your mama this year.”
“My mother’s already impressed,” I said. “And is probably more impressed now than she was before. I don’t think you have to worry.”
He pulled the jeans up and reached for the zipper. “I wasn’t exactly worried.”
No, I didn’t imagine so. “I was. Not about that. But about you not making it out of the water.” About any of them not making it out of the water.
And about me not making it out of the water. And the baby.
“We were all right,” Rafe said, pulling the Henley over his head and down over all those lovely muscles. “We didn’t go far. Darcy’s a strong swimmer. Audrey’s all right. They didn’t need help. So we could all help my grandma.”
“I can’t believe he’d do that!” Hammond.
“I can,” Rafe said grimly. “Anybody who’d snap his eighty-year-old aunt’s neck and toss her down the stairs—for money!—is capable of anything.”
When he put it like that. “I think the other brother probably did that. While this one was entertaining Julia and keeping her out of the building.”
“Don’t matter,” Rafe said. “They planned it together. They were in it together. And anyway, this is the guy who slit Julia’s throat and left my grandma to drown. He’d done it before. I ain’t surprised he’d do it again.”
Maybe not. I shuddered, and then smiled. “I’m glad it all worked out.”
He nodded. “Ready to go on downstairs?”
I guess I was. “Give me a hand?”
“Sure.” He took the one I extended and pulled me to my feet. “You sure you’re all right?”
“We’re fine,” I said. “My back hurts. My stomach hurts. I keep having those stupid fake contractions. But I’ll be all right once I eat something. We all survived. We’re all together. That’s the important thing.”
Rafe nodded. “Let’s go. The sooner we do this, the sooner we can get you off your feet and into bed.”
I grinned. “I like the sound of that.”
“I bet you do,” Rafe said, and steered me toward the door.
We came back downstairs just in time to greet the minivan and the other women.
Patrick Nolan had driven up right after we did, of course, and Dix had done what he said he’d do, and pushed a beer into Nolan’s hand. When the door to the minivan opened and Darcy came out, Nolan put the beer down and went outside and wrapped her in his arms. She dropped her head on his shoulder, and they looked very sweet just standing there for a moment.
Both Darcy and Audrey had changed their clothes. Out of Audrey’s closet, I guess, since Darcy looked a bit more dramatic than she usually does. Like Grimaldi, she’s more of the sporty type. This green silk dress was something more like what her mother would wear. But there’s no question that Darcy looked great in it. And judging from the way Nolan’s hand moved up and down on her back, he seemed to like the texture, too.
Audrey was in black from head to toe. Slacks and a long sleeved sweater. And while nobody was embracing her, Mother kept close. I guess the idea that Audrey might not make it out of the Duck River alive, had made Mother realize what she’d be losing. It was all right to be angry with Audrey when Audrey was right down the road and aware that Mother was angry with her. It was something else to maybe never seen Audrey again. They’d been best friends for more than half my mother’s life. I was glad she’d finally come to her senses, even if it had taken something like this to do it.
Mrs. Jenkins was still wrapped in a blanket. Under it, Catherine’s sodden blue dress was gone, and a fuzzy bathrobe had taken its place. It dragged along the ground when Mrs. Jenkins moved. Chances were, Audrey hadn’t had anything in her closet that would fit Mrs. J, and had done the best she could to keep her warm until they could get her home. Or back here.
I opened my mouth to tell Rafe to go get her, but he was already moving. He scooped Mrs. J up into his arms and strode up the stairs with her. I scurried after, to the degree that I could scurry. “She has dry clothes in her room. If you’ll just put her down on the bed, I’ll take care of her.”
“I’ll do it,” Audrey said calmly. She was keeping pace with me up the stairs and across the foyer. As we reached the staircase to the second story, she passed me and kept going. “Just stay down here, Savannah. I’ve got this.”
Fine by me. The stairs were getting harder and harder to manage, anyway.
So I stayed downstairs with the others. Rafe came down after a minute, and joined us. And then another vehicle pulled up out front. Bob Satterfield’s off-duty pickup truck.
As he opened the door and stepped down, yet another car turned off the road and into the driveway.
“She made good time,” Rafe remarked.
I nodded. It might feel like the beginning of today had gone on forever, but it wasn’t that long since I’d called Dix from the parking lot down by the river to tell him what had happened. And yet it was Tamara Grimaldi’s burgundy sedan coming up the driveway, and Grimaldi herself, in her usual business attire of suit and crisp shirt, who came out of the driver’s side door.
By now, the foyer was getting crowded. Mother was greeting Bob Satterfield and sobbing a little against his chest, probably about Audrey. Darcy and Patrick Nolan were still sticking close to one another, although Nolan had picked up his beer again, and Darcy had found a glass of wine somewhere. She probably needed it. I could use some, too, to be honest, but of course that wasn’t possible.
Dix was catching Jonathan up on everything that had happened while Jonathan was minding the kids, and every so often, one of them would stick his head into the parlor to make sure that those same kids were still OK.
And Pearl was winding her way through the forest of legs and feet, sniffing a little here, snuffling a little there, and skipping out of the way whenever someone moved.
“I need to sit down,” I told Rafe.
He nodded. “C’mon.” He put an arm around me, and gestured to Tamara Grimaldi with his other hand. She looked like she really wanted to talk to the sheriff—probably preparing to fight him for custody of Lester Hammond—but since Bob was busy cooing at Mother, Grimaldi followed us down the hallway to the second parlor, the one not occupied by the kids. On her way past, she gave Dix a quick glance. Neither of them said anything, but I wasn’t surprised when, three seconds later, Dix left Jonathan and followed the rest of us down the hall.