Within minutes, they were handcuffed and being led out the door while Jared and I were freed and escorted to the couch, where Elle handed us tea that she’d made in Jared’s kitchen.
As we sipped, Woody lifted his shirt and detached the thin microphone from just below his collar bone, and then Birmingham followed suit. Both men handed Tuck the wires and then collapsed into the other two chairs across from us. Suddenly, I felt like an idiot for having any doubts. They both looked exhausted and more relieved than I’d ever seen anyone look in my life.
“Sorry I couldn’t give you more to reassure you, Harvey,” Woody said after Elle had given him his own tea. “Dooley’s a sly one, and I couldn’t risk it.”
I nodded. “I was worried for a bit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been.”
Woody waved a hand through the air. “It’s actually kind of a compliment. Maybe I should have gone into theater.” He smiled at me and then let his head fall back against the chair.
“Thank you,” Birmingham said to Woody. “Truly. You were the one who got the confession.”
Woody shook his head. “If it was my girl, I’d have wanted help, too. Thanks for letting me.”
Birmingham sighed. “I hope I never have to return the favor.”
I looked from Jared to Woody and then back. Now wasn’t the time, but it sure did sound like Woody was saying he had a daughter. I didn’t know anything about that, and somehow that was the most surprising thing about the whole night.
Dooley and his men were arraigned the next day. Dooley was charged with murder, kidnapping, and threat of death against Tuck. Most of the other members of Identity Dixie were charged with accessory to murder and kidnapping, thanks to Woody and Roger Birmingham’s excellent undercover work. They’d been able to capture enough conversation on their recordings to not only provide evidence of the crimes committed but also supply a motive.
“So Dooley had an affair with Catherine?” I asked Woody the next night when all of us gathered at the bookstore for a potluck dinner in Woody’s honor.
“Yep, it was brief but quite intense apparently. But then he found out she had an addiction problem, and suddenly she wasn’t going to be the perfect ‘arm candy’ and became a liability instead,” Woody said.
Tuck added, “He tried to get her to disappear, but she was trying hard to get herself together. In fact, the reason she was back was that she wanted to make amends. That’s why she came to see Horatio and Hugo. She hoped they would help her find a rehab center and then get herself settled here in town while she worked for them to try and pay them back for what she’d stolen. Now that she’s gone, the Birminghams have promised to make it right.”
Cate groaned. “But Dooley thought she was telling them about her affair with him, and he got scared.”
“Exactly,” Jared said. “It was terrible, and Kara and Roger are going to get some real help with the anger they feel. But I think they’ll make it.”
“So what is the story with them? Were they actually her legal foster parents?” Rocky asked. “What was all that about no records?
“That was a mistake on my part, I’m sorry to say. The records for her relinquishment into the foster system had gotten destroyed in a fire we had here at the juvenile court about ten years ago. I should have thought of that, but I was too busy looking for suspects.” Tuck hung his head.
Lu hugged her husband and said, “You made a mistake in judgment, sure, but you didn’t act on it because you didn’t have any real evidence. That’s why you’re such a good sheriff. You wait for proof.”
Stephen raised his glass of bourbon and toasted Tuck, who was certainly a shoe-in for sheriff now that his only competition was in jail and had been exposed as a verifiable white supremacist. Some of the people in our town weren’t always very open to people they considered different, but they weren’t dumb enough to put their vote behind someone who made their lives off of hate. At least that’s what I was choosing to believe.
That Friday, bright and early, Mart, Symeon, Jared, and I got into Symeon’s new car and drove west into Virginia. As we pulled into the foothills, the colors of autumn came into full brilliance, and every time we passed a sugar maple with its orange and gold glow, I pointed it out to everyone.
By the time we were near The Rock’s farm, the common refrain had become, “Look a sugar maple.” Except instead of actually pointing out sugar maples, my friends used the phrase to note the barest, scrawniest trees out there. Clearly, the space for my enthusiasm for autumn had closed.
As we turned onto his driveway, Mart said, “Two rules, okay? One: Have fun. Two: No murders.”
“Agreed,” I said as I took Jared’s hand. “I’ll do my best.”
Jared kissed my cheek. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he said.