Down and Dead in Dallas, page 3
And it kept picking up for the next eleven days.
Had Martin Easton found him?
That thought horrified Nell. The implications for him, her and so many more had her breathless and mentally staggering.
On March 21st, someone picked up. Nell held the phone in a death grip and said, “Jackson, finally! Thank goodness—“
The call then rolled over to voice mail. “Sorry, I can’t take your call right now. If you’ll leave a message after the tone, I’ll get back with you as soon…”
Why wouldn’t he talk to her? Had their parts in this been exposed?
Nell let her head loll back against her neck, closed her eyes and prayed for intercession. The man either couldn’t or wouldn’t take her calls. That was troubling news. Daring to hope he hadn’t been compromised, she paced a short path between her desk and the back of a cream leather sofa, waiting for the beep, then left the same message she’d left every day since Christine had left the package with her on March 10th.
Any guilt Nell had felt about violating Christine’s wishes and viewing the video and reading the note to Dexter Devlin before the appointed time had long since fallen under the weight of fear.
Considering the circumstances and her own part in them, by the end of her first view of the video, Nell had been hyperventilating, horrified, and calling Jackson. Every day, she had the same reaction. Every time any of this sordid mess so much as crossed her mind, she had that same reaction.
In all her years of counseling, Nell never had faced an issue like this. One that could cost her everything. Dexter Devlin, for pity’s sake. The man was notorious for never giving up and for going toe-to-toe with anyone short of God. He’d bury Nell and Jackson and everyone else involved.
In this case, there was a lot buried in Dallas that needed to stay buried.
The name of the patient whose records Nell had made disappear, whose appointments had been erased from her calendar. Whose every connection to her had been not only severed but obliterated. Those things topped the list but they weren’t the only things on it, and Caroline wasn’t the only patient. If Nell and Jackson weren’t careful, their whole group could wind up down and dead in Dallas.
With a shaky ebony hand, Nell poured herself a stiff drink then downed it in a single gulp. It burned going down her throat. Of all times for Jackson to pull a disappearing act, he had to choose now?
Her hands sweat, making the phone slick and hard to hold. She shook all over. Her stomach knotted, and a bitter taste filled her mouth. Check your messages and do something, Jackson. Please!
Finally, she heard the droning beep. “It’s Nell again,” she said. “Call me as soon as you get this. I don’t care what time it is, as soon as you get in, call me, Jackson.”
She hesitated hanging up, then said aloud the name she’d avoided mentioning to anyone, including in her previous messages to Jackson. “It’s about Caroline.” Nell’s voice thinned. “We have an emergency…”
Chapter 4
March 21st
Even, Georgia
Danny’s Diner brimmed with regulars. Not a single table stood empty.
Jackson spotted Rose sitting alone against the back wall. It was covered with business cards and pictures kids had colored and taped up. Rose looked tense enough to jump out of her skin. That had dread dragging at his belly. He walked over and dropped onto a chair. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” Relief and fear waged a war on her face. “What did Miss Emily say?”
Rose wouldn’t like this. “I got a recorded message about the associates’ meeting.” That was the reason he had headed out from Dallas in the first place, for the coming associates’ meeting at Sampson Park. He’d planned to spend a couple days with Rose and Matthew, then head down to Florida for it. “I couldn’t get Lester either, so I figure they’re off on a jaunt somewhere.”
“Great.” Rose’s disappointment hid in her sarcasm. “What about Darby? Did you try her?”
“I did,” he told Rose. Miss Emily’s surrogate daughter, Darby, managed the Park. If Jackson could have gotten her, she would have known what was up with Caroline and why she’d left there and come to Even. Darby made it her business to know everything going on with everyone in Sampson Park. “She’s in the village,” Jackson said. “No phones there, of course. But I left her a message to call.”
“Heads up.” Rose twisted in her seat. “Your friend is on her way over.”
Caroline stopped at their table and smiled at Jackson. “Coffee?”
Jackson looked her right in the eye—and saw no indication that she recognized him. Until that moment, he hadn’t believed it possible. Rose, he’d felt sure, had to be mistaken, but she hadn’t been. Now what was he to make of that? He’d driven Caroline Branch from Dallas to Even, then to Dixie, Florida, and finally to Sampson Park on Christmas Day and now, three months later, she doesn’t recognize him?
“Please,” he told Caroline. Feeling his heart pumping like a wild beast’s, he added, “Better make it decaf.”
“Sure thing.” She grabbed a cup, switched pots, then placed a steaming one on the table before him. “There you go.” She glanced over at Rose. “Would you like another cup?”
“Please.” Rose waited for her to refill her cup, then leave the table. When she had, Rose locked gazes with Jackson. “She doesn’t know you, either.”
“Picked up on that,” he said, decidedly uneasy.
“You spent days traveling together,” Rose said. “With all your charm, it’s hard to believe she’d forget you so fast, Jackson.”
Rose wasn’t being sarcastic now, she was scared. And her being scared put him on edge, too. “It’s a blow to the ego, for sure. But back then, she was in pretty bad shape.”
“Not that bad,” Rose insisted. “She seemed fine enough at the house.”
They both read people too well to believe for a minute Caroline was pretending not to know them. And she had seemed fine during the trips and at the house. Scared, of course, but fine. “Something’s happened.” To cause this kind of reaction, something traumatic. He asked the question on his mind aloud. “What could Darby’s bunch at the Park do to her to wipe out her memory?”
“Isn’t that the million-dollar question?” Perplexed, Rose frowned and held it.
Jackson followed Caroline’s movements from table to table. She seemed comfortable enough and busy but not at all distressed. “She’s definitely not faking or playing games.” The truth had been in her eyes. “She doesn’t know us.”
“I appreciate the confirmation. I didn’t think so, either.”
Jackson would bet on it. When he’d looked into Caroline’s eyes, she’d looked back, bold and direct. Caroline didn’t normally do that. She seemed almost amused, and the Caroline he knew didn’t do that, either. But most telling, during their travels, Jackson had never physically reacted to her at all. Not once. He did now. “Who are those two guys chatting her up?” he asked Rose.
“Auto mechanics. Billy Joe Baker and Dean Hester. Don’t be rude to them, I’m recruiting them for my team.”
“I wasn’t going to be rude. I just wondered why they were so friendly to Caroline. How long has she been here, anyway?”
“Today’s the first day I’ve seen her, but I haven’t been in for a couple weeks. Been tied up in classes. When Carl finished training us, Mr. Perini started. We’re finally finished and ready to start receiving some of his special clients.”
Carl was the previous owner of the Even funeral home. Mr. Perini, their associate contact at Down and Dead, Inc. in Dixie, Florida.
Caroline stopped suddenly. The coffeepot in her hand dropped, crashed to the floor and shattered.
“Yeow!” Dean Hester jumped to his feet and hustled to back up. “Nearly got me, girl.”
Caroline stared through the window, across the street.
“What’s wrong?” Billy Joe Baker asked her.
“Hey,” Hester said. “It’s okay, Caroline. No harm, no foul.”
She didn’t respond.
Jackson followed her line of vision to the other side of Main Street. On the sidewalk, under a canopy at the drug store, stood a tall, muscular man with features Jackson readily recognized. “Oh, man.”
“He gives me the creeps,” Rose said. “Who is he?”
“Martin Easton—Caroline’s ex.” Jackson warned Rose, coming up off his seat. “Get her out of here while I block him.”
“No, wait,” Rose said. “If you recognize him, odds are, he’ll recognize you.” She rushed over to Caroline, looked at Billy Joe and Dean. “Caroline needs some help. See that guy across the street?”
“Which one?”
“The one you don’t know, Hester,” Billy Joe said, eyeing Easton. “Who is he, Rose?”
“Caroline’s ex. He nearly beat her to death and she’s been running from him a long time.”
Caroline swiveled her head to look at Rose, but kept her mouth closed. Unshed tears swam in her eyes.
Clearly, Caroline remembered Martin. Speaking to Billy Joe and Hester, Rose went on. “You guys intercept him and keep him busy long enough for me and my brother to get Caroline out of here.”
“Where you taking her, Rose?”
To Jackson’s surprise, the question didn’t come from Billy Joe or Dean. It came from one in a group of old men eating their breakfast.
“Away before he kills her, Harold,” Rose said, sparing the group a glance. “All of you, pray.”
“You got it, Rose,” Harold said. Everyone at the table dropped their forks and folded their hands.
“Prayer Warriors. They meet here for breakfast every day,” Rose told Jackson. “Billy Joe, Dean, move it. Do not let that man follow us.”
Billy Joe was the size of a small mountain. He tugged his ball cap down on his ears, reassured Caroline. “That ain’t happening.”
They headed out the door and Billy Joe and Dean crossed the street. As soon as they had Martin’s attention, Rose motioned to Jackson.
“Caroline, come with me,” Jackson told her. “My sister and I will protect you.”
She looked torn. Afraid to go, and afraid not to go with them.
“We protected you before,” he whispered. “We will again.”
“Over here. Take her out the back way,” Danny shouted from the kitchen, motioning them to him.
Caroline moved, following Rose. “I’m so sorry, Danny,” she said.
“Just stay safe, hon. We’ll be here.” Danny hustled them through the kitchen to the back door. He stopped and spoke into his phone. “We clear?” He nodded to Rose, then unlocked the door. “Hazel’s upstairs at the parking lot window. All’s clear out back. She’s got you covered.”
Jackson looked over his shoulder, checked the street. Billy Joe blocked Martin’s view. The Prayer Warriors’ voices filled the diner and overflowed into the kitchen. Jackson figured they could use all the prayers they could get. If Martin Easton was here, his thugs couldn’t be far behind.
In the rear parking lot at Rose’s black hearse, Jackson told Caroline, “You ride with Rose. I’ll follow, in case I need to run interference.”
Caroline’s eyes stretched wide. “You want me to ride in a hearse?”
“Go, Caroline,” Jackson urged her, opening the door and waving his thanks to Hazel. She stood in the window, her hair in curlers, holding a rifle and scope. It would have made him uneasy, seeing a tiny old woman with a weapon like that, but she held it like she knew how to use it. He turned to Rose. “Get out of here before Martin outwits Billy Joe and Dean.”
Caroline slid into the passenger’s seat, and Jackson shut the door. “Hit it, Rose!”
Rose left half her tires on the pavement. The backend of her new hearse fishtailing, she turned right out of the parking lot onto a back street, avoiding the front of the diner, Main Street, and Martin Easton’s prying eyes.
Chapter 5
Christine had serious misgivings about getting into a hearse with Rose, but she had more misgivings about tangling with Martin in broad daylight, where innocent bystanders could be drawn into the fight. Rose was smaller and she didn’t have as much to lose which meant, if push came to shove, Christine could take her in a fight. And while Rose had watched Christine’s every move in the diner, she didn’t seem at all threatening.
It wasn’t until Christine had dropped the coffeepot—seeing Martin standing there had stunned her—and Rose got Billy Joe and Dean to intercept Martin then revealed she and her brother, Jackson, had protected Caroline that Christine had gotten her first link to anyone in Even knowing Caroline. To learn the details, Christine would follow Rose or Jackson or both of them anywhere.
“Your hearse has that new car smell,” Christine said, seeking a safe topic. Rose drove it like a maniac, which proved she knew how dangerous Martin Easton was, and she was determined to avoid him. “Um, where are you taking me?”
“I just picked it up a week ago in Atlanta,” Rose said, making a hard right and nearly clipping a row of azaleas with the backend. “I’m still getting used to driving it.”
“Kind of figured that.” Christine stated the obvious, then waited to see if her other question would be answered. When it wasn’t, she asked again. “And we’re going… where?”
“To my house. It’s just a few more blocks.”
“Good. If Christine had to run, at least it wouldn’t be from out in the sticks somewhere. She could find her way back to the diner and her car from here. “Thanks for helping me out.”
“Sure thing.” Rose spared her a glance. “I don’t mean to be rude, but can we chat after we get there instead of right now? I’m still not used to all the stuff on this puppy, and I’m scared to death of wrecking it. Today would be a really bad day to do it.”
Wouldn’t any day be a bad day to wreck your new vehicle? Christine wondered, but she didn’t utter a word. Rose was nervous about Carl Wooten’s funeral. “Mailbox. Two o’clock!” Christine winced.
Rose whipped the wheel and over-corrected, taking out a trash can on the far side of the street. “Oops.”
Christine double-checked her seatbelt and closed her eyes. Might be cowardly, but she needed a few minutes to recover from the shock of seeing Martin standing on the sidewalk in Even with no warning.
Rose hit the brakes hard. Christine’s eyes opened in time to see a last-second turn into a concrete driveway that ran alongside Even Funeral Home. She pulled around back, behind the two-story brick building, and then parked.
“You live in a funeral home?” Christine asked.
Rose had seen this kind of reaction before. “Sort of. Actually, the funeral home is attached to our house. It faces the acreage on the other side.”
“Oh.”
“We own both.”
Caroline knew about the funeral home from the regulars at the diner. Not about the house. It struck her as kind of creepy. “I see.” Her heart beat hard and fast. Maybe Martin had arranged this. Maybe they meant to kill her. It’d be convenient to already have her at the funeral home. “Do you work for Martin?”
“Good grief, no.” Rose opened the door. “Let’s get inside.”
Gravel crunched behind them. Christine looked back down the drive and saw Jackson pulling in, driving a white truck. His license plate was from Texas. That made her feel a little better. She waited while he parked to the left of the hearse, blocking view of it from the road, though seeing a hearse at a funeral home shouldn’t arouse suspicion in Martin or his goons.
A big guy with dark hair and bright eyes stepped out of the house onto a long porch littered with white-slatted rocking chairs. Good looking man. Likely Rose’s husband, Matthew. Some of the female diners called him Matthew the Marvelous, though not in front of Rose.
“Caroline?” he said, clearly surprised to see her. His gaze shot to Rose.
He definitely knew her sister. Thrilled, Christine nodded at him.
“What are you doing here?” He went from surprised to worried in a flash, and slid an uneasy glance from Christine back to Rose. “What is she doing here?”
Rose shrugged that she didn’t know.
Jackson joined them. “Rose, you and Matthew go catch up. I’m sure you’re behind on what you need to do for the funeral.”
Every instinct in Christine’s body went on alert.
Jackson clearly noticed. “Carl Wooten,” Jackson said, patting his chest. “His heart gave out. The funeral is this morning.” Rose hadn’t moved and Jackson walked toward the front porch. “Let’s sit out here, Caroline, and have something cold to drink.”
Rose looked relieved to have a minute alone with her husband, and didn’t mention a word about Carl Wooten’s funeral warning. “Remember,” Christine said. “There could be trouble with the locals, Rose.”
“I haven’t forgotten. Thanks.” Rose joined Matthew on the front porch. “Jackson, try giving our friend a call again.”
He nodded.
Christine wasn’t sure what to make of anything. These people obviously knew Caro and her situation. Jackson had recognized Martin on sight and Rose had known he was Caro’s abusive ex.
Unfortunately, Christine didn’t know them. But they had protected Caro. If Christine admitted she wasn’t Caro, would they still help her? Or would she be blowing her only chance of finding out what had happened to her sister?
One question in her mind had been answered. Martin didn’t have Caro or he wouldn’t be here.
Mitigating her risks, Christine held her silence. The less said, the better. One slip, and her cover as Caro could be blown wide open. If that happened, she’d lose her only connection to Caro.
Chapter 6
Having a funeral home attached to your house wasn’t all bad, Christine decided. The view from the front porch of rolling green hills, huge oaks and, closer to the structure, islands of azaleas and white irises made for a lovely front-porch view. Looking away from the street, a sizable garden shone in the sun, freshly tilled and planted. New growth sprouted up in neat rows.
