Chapter Six
Kate washed her hands in the sink of the campground restroom, cursing under her breath at her sister while she lathered with lavender-scented soap that was supposed to be calming, according to the description on the dispenser.
Claire was sooo wrong. This bathroom was not just “up the trail apiece.” For a woman carting a baby in her womb, which kept bouncing on her very full bladder, it felt far enough from the bird watching platform that overnight mail would take a month to arrive.
A look at her face in the mirror after rinsing her hands made Kate pause. Her cheeks were pinker than usual today. That was probably due to having to work outside in the sunshine for the first time in … well, longer than she could remember. She needed the floppy-brimmed hat her mother preferred to wear about, like an old Hollywood starlet.
What couldn’t be explained by the big bright sphere in the sky was the shape of her face of late. She turned her head one way and then the other. Her cheeks seemed fuller, softer, same as the rest of her pregnant body.
However, contrary to what Claire claimed earlier, Kate did not have the darting and whacky eyes of a psychopath. Nor was she foaming at the mouth. She leaned closer to the mirror. Well, maybe a little at the corners, but that was probably because of the dust they were kicking up back in the ravine.
She scowled at her reflection while flapping her hands to air-dry them. Somehow she needed to figure out a way to get out of helping Claire build this dang birder’s perch. She was never going to get to the bottom of the origin of that knife or figure out if Joe was still kicking around at this rate. Especially not if she were stuck being her sister’s lackey, like she’d been all morning, carting tools to and from the tool shed for seemingly no reason. If she didn’t know better, she’d think Claire was trying to distract her with all of these inane tasks. But from what? Bird watching?
This lackey business was a job for a teenager who had nothing better to do than paint her nails and yak on and on about lip gloss and pop stars, and if Kate had to bribe Jess to take her place on the weekends, she would happily cough up the cash.
On Kate’s way back out into the midday sunshine and fresh air, her phone started ringing. Hoping it was some low-level emergency call that would require her to tell Claire she needed to leave immediately, she pulled the phone from her back pocket.
The number on her screen made her stop short on the gravel drive. It was a phone number with a local area code, but not a number her phone recognized from her address book.
Desperate for any reason to get out of going back to work in the ravine, she accepted the call.
“Who’s calling?” she asked right out of the gate.
“Who’s answering?” a slightly wavery, female voice returned.
Kate tried to place the voice. It sounded familiar. Sort of. “You called my phone, so you should know who this is. Now, who are you?”
“What I am is more important if you are who I think you are, but if you aren’t, then I’m of no importance to you. So we’re back to you telling me who you are first.”
Kate snarled up at the sky. “But you called me, and I don’t trust you enough to give you my name.”
“You’re putting too much value in a simple name,” the woman said. “It’s not like I asked you to give me your social security number or your mother’s maiden name.”
Kate was still trying to mentally go through all of the females she knew or had met at some point who lived within this area code. Having worked at The Shaft for a while, though, made that list pretty long. “Maybe my name is top secret,” she said to buy time.
“I doubt it.”
Well, there was no need to be offensive about it. “I doubt yours is either.”
The woman sniffed in Kate’s ear. “Millie was right. You’re a real pain in the keister.”
Millie? A light blinked on in Kate’s memory. “Is this Ruth?”
Ruth was a good friend of Penny’s aunt, Millie. Claire had gotten into a scuffle with Ruth over computer time at the library last summer and had been banned from the place for six months because of it. Ruth had claimed she was attacked by Claire out of the blue, but the bruises left on Claire’s arm and leg from Ruth’s cane told a different story.
However, that was all water under the bridge now that Kate and her sisters had come to a truce with Millie and her gang of blue-haired library cronies.
“Maybe it’s Ruth,” the woman replied. “Is this Kate?”
Good gravy! Kate kicked at a patch of grass growing up in the midst of the gravel drive. “Yes! This is Kate!” she yelled.
Several grayish-blue scrub jays took flight from a nearby cottonwood tree, screeching back at her as they flew off.
“There’s no need to get your dander up, girl. This is Ruth. We’re on the same team, remember?”
“Did you call me simply to test my patience?”
“No. I have a message to relay to you.”
“From whom?”
“Does it matter?”
Kate snorted. “Of course it matters who the sender of a message is.”
“Not necessarily, especially if it’s a warning.”
Kate thought on that a moment. Ruth had a point. “Is this a warning message?” And if so, a warning about what? Something to do with Ronnie? Why else would …
“No,” Ruth said, putting a stop to that slew of questions.
“So, it’s just a plain old message then.”
There was a short pause from the other end of the line before Ruth replied, “No, it’s more like an intelligence briefing of an impending hostage situation.”
“A hostage situation?” Oh, no! Kate’s pulse raced from zero to sixty in a gasp’s worth of time. This had to be about Ronnie! One of the hitmen must be here! Had they already taken Ronnie? No, Ruth had said it was impending. Shit! Did that mean there was still time to alert Grady?
“Wait,” Ruth said, interrupting the shrieking in Kate’s head. “Did I say hostage?”
“Yes!”
Ruth giggled. “My mistake. I meant hostile.”
Kate blinked, feeling like she’d fallen off the back of a wagon and had the wind knocked out of her. “So, it’s a hostile situation, and not anything to do with a hostage?”
“That’s right.”
She pulled her phone away and cursed in the other direction. When she returned to the call, she told Ruth, “You know, there’s a big difference between those two situations.”
“Not if the hostile situation ends with someone being taken hostage.”
“Ruth,” Kate said between gritted teeth. “What is the damned message you’re supposed to give me?”
“Hold on a minute.”
“Now what?”
“I can’t remember why I called you.”
Kate’s shout of laughter spurred a bark-fest from two dogs at some nearby campsites. “You’re kidding me.”
“It’s your fault,” Ruth shot back.
“How is this my fault? You’re the one who called me to deliver a message.”
“And I would have delivered it already if you hadn’t been such a bonehead about giving me your name.”
Kate flipped off her phone. “You should’ve written it down first.”
“And leave an evidence trail? Come on, child. Do you think I don’t know big wood from kindling at my age?”
Kate wasn’t sure how to answer that.
“Now shush up for a second and let me retrace my steps.”
While waiting, Kate could hear something creaking rhythmically. Was that Ruth’s cane? “Are you walking around right now?”
“Did I not just say that I needed to retrace my steps? I tend to forget my thoughts when I go from one room to the next, thereby changing the scenery.”
After several more creaks, the sound of liquid trickling came through the phone next. What in the hell? “Are you getting a drink of water now?”
“No. I spent too long trying to give you my message and now I have to tinkle.”
“Oh my … eww.” Kate held the phone away from her ear and counted to ten while walking back to lean against the restroom building’s sun-warmed wall. When she held the phone back to her ear, the tinkling was still playing through the line.
Come on! James Bond never had to deal with this type of buffoonery from his confidential informants.
“Are you almost done?” Kate asked.
“Just hold your horses.” The tinkling was replaced by rustling, and then a definite toilet flushing. “Okay, now what were we talking about?”
Kate sighed, waiting to hear the sound of Ruth washing her hands. “The message from you.”
“Oh, yeah.” The creaking sound came again. “It’s not from me. It’s from the head honcho.”
More creaking came through the phone instead of the splash of water running from a faucet.
“Ruth, are you going to wash your hands?”
“No. I don’t need to. I’m at home.”
“Yes, you do. That’s how cholera is spread.”
Ruth scoffed. “Cholera is spread by water contaminated with feces, Miss Know-It-All, not urine.”
“Urine is close enough. You need to wash your hands.”
The creaking stopped. “Urine is sterile.”
“That’s a myth. It has bacteria in it.” Kate knew that because she had taught health during summer school one year, and a disease specialist had to come talk to the kids in order to earn community service hours for not paying his parking tickets on time.
“What’s your source on that?” Ruth asked.
“Never mind my source. Just wash your hands.”
“Do you want your freaking message or not?”
“Sure, after you wash your hands.”
“For cryin’ out loud.” Ruth huffed through the phone. The sound of running water came and went. “There! Are you happy, Nurse Ratched?”
“Yes.” Although she didn’t think there’d been soap involved on Ruth’s part, but whatever. “Now give me the damned message.”
“I’m supposed to tell you that a certain someone is about to drop a can of pepper in Veronica’s butter churn.”
Kate opened and closed her mouth. Twice. But nothing came out.
“Did you hear me?” Ruth asked. “Hello? Hello?”
“Is pepper a bad thing to put in a butter churn?”
“Boy howdy, you must be the dull knife in the drawer.”
Kate bristled. “I’ll have you know that I have a very high IQ and have been a schoolteacher for years.”
“Could’ve fooled me with the way you answered your dad-burned phone.”
Kate took a deep calming breath, holding onto her stomach. Under her palm, she felt a small flutter. Then another. Was that the quickening feeling she’d read about in her pregnancy book? Or just a gas bubble?
She took another breath.
There it was again. Definite fluttering.
She gasped. “Ruth! I felt it move!”
“Nah. That’s just ol’ Copper Snake Mine blasting out a bigger hole in the ground.”
“I mean my baby.” She pushed her palm harder into the side of her belly. “I think it’s kicking.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re the pregnant sister. How far along are you?”
“About twenty weeks.”
“Well, that’s just about right then. Do you know who put the bun in your oven?”
“Of course I know!”
“You don’t need to get snippy about it, child. I wasn’t calling you a soiled dove or anything of that sort. Just making sure. This town is often out of stock on both pregnancy and paternity tests.”
Kate cradled her pregnancy bulge, awed by the reality of her situation. “Wow. There’s a little human growing inside of my stomach.”
“Actually, Teacher, the baby is in your uterus.”
“You’re ruining the moment, Ruth,” Kate said dryly.
A chuckle came through the line. “Fine. But when you’re done daydreaming about baby booties, what are you going to do about Grady’s ex-wife unleashing a slander campaign against Veronica’s reputation?”
All thoughts of the tiny life inside of her went up in smoke for the moment. “That’s what your message is?”
“Yep.”
“Where did you and Millie get this information?”
“We can’t reveal our sources,” Ruth said.
“And how much is this information going to cost me?”
“Millie will add it to your tab.”
Kate held her hand over her forehead, feeling the frown lines under her palm. “Anything definite about what Elizabeth is going to do first?”
“Nothing is set in stone yet, but she was overheard talking on her phone about Veronica and someone named Lyle Jefferson.”
Damn it! Elizabeth knew about Ronnie’s ex-husband, which meant that if Elizabeth didn’t already know about the federal investigation into Ronnie’s life due to suspicion that she was involved with Lyle’s illegal wheeling and dealing, she would soon.
If that became public news—or rather when, now that Elizabeth was causing trouble—how would the locals feel about their sheriff consorting under the covers with a possible felon? Or at least someone who had been married to a felon? Although, since Lyle had still been married to some other woman when he exchanged vows with Ronnie, they hadn’t even been officially married all of that time.
“This could get really ugly,” Kate said as much to herself as Ruth.
“Sure, like forty miles’ worth of bad road ugly,” Ruth said.
“You’re not making me feel any better, Ruth.”
“I’m just the messenger. Speaking of, I’m supposed to report back to Millie if you plan to run any sort of interference on this potential hostile situation.”
There was no hesitation in Kate’s mind. “Hell, yes!”
Her only dilemma was if she should rain hell down on Grady’s ex on her own, or if she should tag-team with a partner on this one. As much as she preferred to stalk trouble alone these days, as she had done last evening, being pulled in too many directions at once might slow her down. A partner was probably for the best. It would be easier to delegate duties here and there, so she could keep her head low, especially when Butch or Grady were around.
Kate thanked Ruth for playing messenger, albeit a befuddled one, and hung up. Next time, Millie should just tape a note to a blind tortoise for quicker delivery service.
Before returning to Claire and the ravine, Kate went back to the restroom. All of the excitement both outside and inside of her womb made her bladder antsy again. She pondered who to partner with on the Elizabeth front as she washed her hands, staring at the blonde in the mirror again.
Her first choice would have been Claire, but her sister was already spread too thin, not to mention she’d tattle to Mac about Kate hunting trouble, and Mac would then blab to Butch.
She couldn’t tell Ronnie, since she was the one centered in the crosshairs. Besides, Kate might need to use her oldest sister as bait at some point, so it was best to keep Ronnie out of it for now.
She flapped her hands dry.
There was Millie and her gang of blue-haired bandidas, but Kate was already paying them to help her with that knife of Joe’s. She didn’t need to get in debt trouble with a rowdy bunch of extortionists equipped with canes and walkers. Although, it’d be fun to unleash the Geritol bruisers on Elizabeth’s hide. Especially Aunt Millie.
In the mirror, Kate noticed a gleam in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. She leaned closer to the glass. Her pupils looked wider, slightly dilated. Were these the eyes of a psychopath?
“Is that you, Ms. Hyde?” she whispered.
Her left cheek twitched, and then a cackle of laughter rang out from between her lips.
Shit. Maybe Claire was right.
Covering her mouth in case the foaming started next, she left the restroom and started back toward her sister.
As her shoes crunched on the gravel drive, she wondered how she was going to tell Ronnie about this news. What would she do upon hearing it? Would she go head-to-head with Elizabeth and risk Grady’s future as a sheriff? Or would she slip away in the night, disappearing from their lives rather than tarring those she loved with the scandal coating her past?
Crippity-crap, Kate needed to get a jump on Elizabeth, but how? If not Millie and her pals, then who could …
She stopped in her tracks. “Well, duh.”
There was one other posse member left to round up and ride out with on this bitch-hunt. On second thought, maybe lassoing Aunt Millie to come along, too, might be worth the extra cost.
“Yes, that just might work,” she muttered, back on track for the ravine. As she rounded the tool shed, another cackle escaped from her lips.