Thirty-Six and a Half Motives
Page 68

“We can only speculate that,” I said.
Skeeter’s hard eyes sought mine. “You knew damn good and well it’s true.”
Neely Kate grabbed my hand. “Mason hates Joe. And he hates J.R. for sending him to Fenton County in exile.”
“And both those things contradict your speculation,” I said in a firm voice. “What you’re suggesting would mean he’s working with J.R. He would never do that after discovering J.R. was behind his sister’s murder. On top of that, why would J.R. want to hurt Joe?”
“You know why. Punishment,” Skeeter said matter-of-factly. “To teach him a lesson for not following orders. For picking the wrong woman again. J.R.’s just going to keep upping the stakes for his disobedience. And Deveraux just discovered J.R.’s involvement in his sister’s death.” He paused. “Maybe Simmons convinced him I’m lying. Maybe he convinced him that I was the mastermind behind it.”
I shook my head, trying not to cry.
“Then there’s Hilary,” Neely Kate said.
My eyes narrowed as my anger blazed again. “What about her?”
“Kate told you they have a history.”
“Mason explained it to me.”
“His side. But what about hers?”
I jerked my hand from hers, so furious I was seeing red. “I am not falling for any of this. I know that man. He would never hurt me.”
“Rose,” Neely Kate said, her voice full of sympathy. “I never in a million years thought Ronnie capable of siding with people out to hurt you. Maybe you should try to be objective.”
“It would be a betrayal to even consider it, and I’ve betrayed him enough!”
Skeeter pushed Neely Kate aside and gave me a cold, hard stare. “No. You put you first. Above everything else.”
I returned his stare. “You’ve been puttin’ yourself first for thirty-nine years, Skeeter Malcolm. How’s that workin’ out for you?”
His nostrils flared, but he held my gaze. “I’m still alive, so I’d say it’s workin’ pretty well.”
Until me. But I couldn’t deal with that guilt. I already had enough on my plate.
I lifted my chin and said in defiance, “I know Mason. I trust him.”
He held my gaze, his jaw tight. “You are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.”
I pushed his shoulder and walked past him. “And you like me that way. End of discussion.” I took a breath and shined my light on the opposite wall. “So presuming what we’re looking for is still here, where should we look? Because the obvious places have all been searched.”
Both remained silent for a good three seconds before Skeeter took a step into the middle of the room. “Let’s act as though it’s the first time it’s been searched.”
We’d been searching for fifteen minutes when I heard a loud groan of splitting wood. My mouth dropped open when I saw that Skeeter had ripped an empty tack cabinet off the wall with a crowbar.
“What on earth. . . ?” I gasped.
“Time to start lookin’ in the non-obvious places.” He’d tossed his jacket into the corner and was wearing a dark gray Henley that clung to his thick arms and wide chest.
His eyebrows rose in a challenge. “You got a problem with it?”
“No,” I said, with a hand on my hip. “I was thinking about remodeling anyway.”
If he caught my joke, he didn’t let on. Instead, he continued ripping off the cabinet to reveal the wood planks behind it.
I watched him for several seconds before Neely Kate flashed me a grin. What on earth was she so happy about?
She pointed her thumb behind her. “I’m going to check the loft.”
My head was still spinning after their earlier confrontation. I’d told them my trust in Mason was unwavering, but a small part of me kept wondering if there was a kernel of truth to their accusations. And that made me feel so guilty I could hardly bear it.
I had to nip these stray thoughts in the bud.
Feeling like a traitor, I brushed my dirty hands on my jeans. “I’m going to the house to check on Muffy and get some bottles of water. I’ll be back.”
Skeeter gave me a sideways look of disgust. “You always dote on that dog this much?”
“Yes, not that it’s any of your business,” I said. My snotty response caught me off guard, but he’d helped plant these annoying seeds of doubt. I realized I was more than a little ticked at the both of them.
“Next thing you know, you’ll be carryin’ it around in your damn purse. Or in one of those baby carriers,” he grumbled, then ripped a cabinet clean off the wall. It occurred to me that he was pissed, too.
“What a great idea,” I sneered. “I think I’ll go order one online right now.” Then I flung the barn door open with more force than necessary. The door bounced off the wall, and I looked back to see Neely Kate’s stunned face peering over the edge of the loft.
If I’d had any notion of surprising Muffy, it was quickly dismissed. Her face was still peering out the window, and she started barking and jumping up on the window the moment she saw me. I slipped through the back door and scooped her up, nuzzling her head with my cheek.
“Mason would never betray us, would he, Muffy?”
She assured me he wouldn’t by licking my chin. Unfortunately, that didn’t quiet the whispers of doubt floating through my head.
Setting her down, I walked into Mason’s office and sat in his chair. My shaken faith was a betrayal, and what I was about to do was even worse. Never once since he’d moved into the farmhouse had I gone through his desk. I’d given him the room for his private, professional use, and I’d always respected that boundary. Honestly, I was surprised he hadn’t come back to clean it out. He’d come by the house to pick up some clothes, but those files were on his desk. And I suspected there were more in the drawers.
I had no idea what the contents held. Mason Deveraux could never be accused of being careless, so if they were criminal files, I knew they couldn’t be too serious. The best way to find out was to start looking.
Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the folder on top of the stack and opened. It contained a file on a sixteen-year-old boy who had shoplifted at Walmart. The teen was a repeat offender, but a cursory glance told me Mason had worked with the boy’s case worker to get him into an anger management class and community service rather than a youth detention center. The rest of the files on the desk were similar—minor crimes, often repeat offenders.