Thirty-Six and a Half Motives
Page 19

Officer Ernie was standing on the sidewalk outside my front door, looking down the street while talking to an elderly man. Great. If Officer Ernie was working the case, the police were just as likely to offer Teagen a job as they were to arrest him. The elderly man pointed toward the courthouse, and then the two of them walked out of my view.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out, not surprised to see Mason’s name. I considered not answering, but I couldn’t do that to him—especially because I suspected I knew why he was calling.
“Hey, Mason,” I said quietly, hiding in the hole under Neely Kate’s desk.
“Where are you?” Worry sharpened his words.
“We broke up, Mason.” I sounded as weary as I felt.
“Rose, there was a shooting by your office. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m fine, but it’s not your job to worry about me anymore.”
“I’m not supposed to worry about you anymore because you broke up with me four hours ago?” he asked, incredulous. “My feelings for you are supposed to switch off just because you say so?”
“No.” I pressed the palm of my hand into my forehead. “I don’t know. Mason, no matter how much we love each other, we just don’t work right now.”
“Right now? Are you saying this is temporary?”
“I don’t know. You can’t deal with what’s goin’ on in my life, and I understand that. I really do. But I can’t put that horse back in the barn. All I can do is step away. I’m trying not to involve you any more than I already have.”
“Rose, I can handle it. I think I proved that at the cabin.”
“No, you didn’t. Not really. You were forced to be there . . . you left me the first chance you got.”
“How can you say that? I left to get Joe. To get you out of your charges.”
“I know.” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to keep my tears contained.
He was right. But so was I. It ripped Mason’s conscience apart to straddle the law, and there was no denying that I was the reason for his straddling. While I was devastated over losing him, I knew I couldn’t make him choose between the law and me. If he chose me, deep down he’d resent me for it, but if he didn’t choose me, he’d regret it for the rest of his life. I had to be strong. For him.
“We don’t work right now, Mason,” I said again. “You know that. That’s the real reason why you left me last Friday.”
“I just needed time to think, Rose.”
I leaned my head against the metal back of the desk. “I understand, I really do, but when were you planning on comin’ back?”
He was silent for a moment. “I don’t know.”
“And that right there is your answer. Love is stickin’ with someone in the good times and the bad. Love is being there.”
“Are you claiming I don’t love you?”
“No. I know you love me. Just not enough.” I shook my head. “No. That’s not right. You love the me you knew with all your heart. But not the Rose I turned out to be.”
“Sweetheart, there’s only one you.”
I used to think so, too. But it was never actually true, I used to be two people—the Rose everyone knew and the Lady in Black—three, if you counted the fearful person I had been before Momma died.
Last week, those separate selves came together. I no longer knew where I stopped and where the Lady began. We’d merged, and I wasn’t sure what Mason thought of this new part of me. From the reaction I’d seen last week, he didn’t like it one bit. I couldn’t blame him for that. My cooperation with Skeeter went against everything he believed in.
“I love you, Mason, but what I’ve done is unfair and selfish. I need to get myself out of this thing—without you—so I don’t drag you in any deeper.”
“What gives you the right to make that decision for both of us?” he asked, sounding angry.
“You made it, Mason,” I said quietly. “You made it last Friday when you walked out of my office. I could understand if you’d left for one night, but you’ve been gone five days. You made the decision that we were done.”
“That’s not true.”
I was on the verge of breaking down, and I couldn’t risk that. Not with Merv bleeding in my bathroom and the police gathering outside my door.
“I can’t do this right now. I have to go,” I said.
“Will you at least agree to meet me in person to discuss this?”
I heard voices outside, which meant whoever was out there would be able to hear me, too. “Yeah. I’ll let you know when,” I whispered and then hung up.
I took several breaths to calm down. I needed to have my wits about me. I could fall apart later.
Crawling out of my hole, I moved to the edge of the desk, peered around the edge, and then gasped. Detective Taylor—the man who had a personal vendetta against me—was talking to Kate, of all people. I hadn’t seen her since my kidnapping. She wore dark jeans with black boots and a canvas jacket. The light of the street lamp highlighted the blue streaks in her dark hair. I strained to hear what they were saying.
“. . . and the suspect . . . corner?” Detective Taylor asked.
Kate had her back to me, but she turned and pointed in the opposite direction of the antique store. “He ran that way.”
Detective Taylor wrote something in his notebook. “Can you give me a description?”
“Yeah,” Kate said. “Really tall.” She lifted her hand over her head to indicate a giant that would have dwarfed Sam Teagen. “Red jacket. Khaki pants. He looked like a kid, maybe seventeen.”
“And you’re sure you saw a gun?”
“I saw him shoot it toward the courthouse. Like he was aiming for a tree.”
Kate was lying. A lot. Why would she lie?
Oh, my word.
Kate was working with him. The first time I’d seen Sam Teagen, he’d run toward the antique store—same as he’d done tonight. Kate lived above that antique store.
I’d bet ten bucks he was hiding there now.
I pulled out my phone and called Skeeter. “I have something,” I whispered.
“What?”
“Kate Simmons told Detective Taylor she saw the shooter, but she’s lying about what Sam Teagen looks like and which way he went. Both tonight and Friday, I saw him run toward the antique store and disappear. Kate’s apartment is over the antique store—so I bet he’s hiding there.”