Jamie climbed from her car and opened the back door so Fleas could get out. She had wanted to leave him at the office, but the hound had caught her sneaking out and had given her the same look he did when they ran out of his favorite butter pecan ice cream.
A man stepped out the back door and smiled. “You must be Jamie. I recognize you by your dog. Mel described him to me.”
Maggie hadn’t mentioned Zack Madden was good-looking. She grinned. “You must be Zack. I recognize you by your injuries.” Jamie offered her hand, and they shook. “It’s a relief knowing my friend and her daughter are being looked after by a professional. How is Maggie, by the way?”
“She’s worried, of course. Mainly about her daughter,” he added.
Jamie hated to think the newspaper article may have added to Maggie’s worries. She had not been able to reach Mike Henderson on his cell phone during her drive over. “I think some girl talk might be in order,” Jamie said.
“She’s in her bedroom. I saw her haul two laundry baskets in there.”
“Thanks.” Jamie headed toward the house; Fleas didn’t follow. Instead, he moseyed toward the backyard. Jamie found Mel sitting at the kitchen table in oversized pajamas eating pizza. She was reading a magazine and tapping one hand to the beat of the music spilling from her room. “Hi, kiddo,” Jamie said.
Mel looked up and smiled, showing a mouth full of braces. “Hey. You want some cold pizza?”
“No, thanks. I just dropped by to say hello to your mom. By the way, how’s the new goat?”
“She’s cute. Except her eyes are weird,” Mel added.
Jamie tapped on Maggie’s bedroom door a moment later and peeked in. She found Maggie sitting on her bed surrounded by a mountain of laundry, a phone tucked between her jaw and shoulder.
She motioned Jamie inside. “Okay, listen up, Queenie,” she said into the phone, “You know how I feel about harmful root work, even if it’s aimed at Carl Lee Stanton. Just remember, if you get into trouble, I am not going to bail you out of jail or smuggle a hacksaw to your cell, baked in a Lady Baltimore cake. Oh, and tell Everest I said to drive safely.” Maggie hung up and shook her head. “That woman is a danger to herself and others. She won’t rest easy until she gets a black hen, despite having to drive all the way to Savannah to get it.”
“What does she plan to do with it?”
“She uses the eggs in various ways, depending on what kind of magic she’s trying to work. We’re better off not knowing.”
Jamie nodded toward the bed. “I hear you’re on a laundry-folding marathon. You doctors really do lead glamorous lives.”
“Yeah, ain’t it grand?”
Jamie hesitated. “Um, just so you know; I had nothing to do with what was written about you in the article. As owner of the paper, I take all responsibility, and I—”
“Let’s just forget about it,” Maggie said. “Besides, it’s old news. Abby Bradley has already told everybody. But if you’re really feeling guilty you can match these socks for me.” She nodded toward the stack.
“I hate matching socks.” Jamie kicked off her shoes, climbed onto the bed, and pulled the mound toward her. “Yuk.”
Maggie grinned and produced a pillowcase from beneath a pile of sheets. She reached deep inside and pulled out two Tootsie Rolls. “Chocolate?” she offered.
“That’s a pretty unique hiding place,” Jamie said, taking the candy. She and Maggie wasted no time unwrapping their goodies. “Now, fill me in on the good-looking FBI guy.”
Maggie shrugged. “I don’t know much about him other than he seems good at his job, and I feel safer having him here.” She bit into her Tootsie Roll.
“Wife? Children?” Jamie asked.
“He said his job isn’t conducive to family life. I know I wouldn’t want to be married to a man who spent most of his time away from home. Plus, I’m sure undercover work is dangerous.” She paused. “Speaking of family, how is the baby-making business?”
Jamie shrugged. “Nothing to report.”
Maggie could hear the disappointment in her voice. “You know, Queenie claims she has a surefire fertility recipe,” she said.
“Really?” Jamie looked up.
“It’s so simple anyone can do it. All you need is a rosebush,” she added. “You can only use red roses though. They signify desire.” She knew Max and Jamie had rosebushes at their new house.
Jamie looked eager.
“You dig up the rosebush at dawn while the petals are still dewy. Before you cover the hole, you drop a shiny new penny inside. Then, you pluck all the petals from the roses. You don’t have to measure them out or anything, but you drop half the petals in your bathwater with your favorite bath salts, and you sprinkle the other half on your sheets at bedtime.”
“And it’s supposed to make people fertile?” Jamie asked.
“That’s what I hear.”
“Gee, I hope I don’t have quintuplets.”
“That’s fairly rare.” Maggie folded one of Mel’s T-shirts and smoothed her hand across it like an iron, to get the wrinkles out. “Which is a good thing because you don’t want to have five thirteen-year-olds,” she said.
Jamie was quiet for a moment, committing the recipe to memory. She looked up, noted the worry lines on Maggie’s brow. “I hate seeing you like this.”
“Yeah, it’s a little tense around here these days.” She tried to smile but failed.
Jamie studied her. “What is it you’re not telling me?” When Maggie looked surprised, Jamie arched one brow. “You think I don’t know you by now? I can tell when you’re hiding something. Give it to me, Davenport. Don’t make me wait to hear it from Abby Bradley.”
“I got a call this morning from the psychiatrist at Texas Federal Prison.” She told Jamie about her conversation with McKelvey. “The fact that he would put ethics aside in order to warn me is pretty scary. Carl Lee has newspaper clippings. Mel’s picture has been in the paper twice since I returned. The picture you took of the two of us sitting on the trunk and—”
“The art show last year,” Jamie said, remembering the close-up she had taken of Mel holding the blue ribbon for the sketches she had been so hesitant to share.
“I’m afraid Carl Lee might have figured out the truth. If he hasn’t, his mother probably has. Mel and I ran into her at Wal-Mart six or eight months ago so I know the woman got a good look at her. What if she sent the clippings?”
“Did the psychiatrist mention anything?”
“No. But Zack has seen the file. Carl Lee knows I have a daughter. What if—”
“Okay, time out,” Jamie said. “I would think if Carl Lee knows, it would be in the file and Zack would have said something. Don’t go borrowing trouble, as Vera would say.”
Maggie stood and walked to the closet where she pulled a large hardbound book from the top shelf. “This was in my grandmother’s old trunk, along with a ton of other stuff, including incriminating material like love letters and notes from my friends, teen magazines and sexy paperbacks that my parents would never have approved of,” she added. “The trunk was in the barn crammed inside a stall with my grandparents’ other antiques so it was a good place to hide things.” She held up the book. “Remember this?”
Jamie groaned. “Why would you keep our middle school yearbook? Do you remember how crummy our hairstyles were back then?”
Maggie didn’t answer. She flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for. “I’ll bet you forgot Carl Lee has a younger sister. She was two grades behind us.”
“I don’t remember her,” Jamie said.
“Well, here she is.” Maggie handed Jamie the book and pointed to one of the school photos, a thin girl with bright red-orange hair, freckles, and braces. “Meet Kathleen Francis Stanton,” she announced, “who could easily be my daughter’s twin.”
Chapter Six
Police Chief Lamar Tevis pulled the old pickup truck into Maggie Davenport’s driveway and parked. He wore a cap adorned with se
veral fish hooks; the words BITE ME were written just above the bill. A blue tick hound sat in the back of the truck, scratching as though his life depended on it.
Zack climbed inside the truck a few minutes later and found Tevis on his cell phone. The chief held up one finger, indicating to Zack the call would only take a minute.
“Now, listen here, Clancy,” Tevis said, “I put you on alert the minute I caught wind of Carl Lee Stanton’s escape, and you’ve been jerking me around ever since. If this is your way of getting back at me for winning the last poker game then you need to start spending your Wednesday nights at the senior citizen’s bingo parlor.”
Zack grinned and leaned back in the seat.
“You’re not listening to me,” Lamar went on. “I am spread real thin on manpower, Buddyroe, on account of this whole dang town has gone completely nuts on me, and these Elvis impersonators aren’t making things any easier. I’ve got four of them locked in a cell right now for public drunkenness, and if I have to listen to ‘Jailhouse Rock’ or that hound dog song one more time I’m going to turn my dang gun on myself.” He paused for air. “Now, then, I need every fireman and volunteer fireman you got, you hear?” He paused. “What do you mean, they’re sitting in the lobby at the station? Since when?”
Tevis looked at Zack who shrugged.
“Well, dang, Clancy,” Lamar said, taking on a sheepish tone, “you could have told me you were sending them over and saved me this phone call. Hello? Clancy, are you there?” Lamar hung up. “Well, I guess I can kiss off my free ticket to the next fireman’s ball.” He gave Zack a thoughtful frown. “Did you or Max have anything to do with this?”
“You underestimate your powers of persuasion,” Zack said.
“Yeah, could be.” He held out his hand. “Zack, it’s good to finally meet you. Sorry it took me so long for a face-to-face; as you can guess, I’ve been preoccupied.” They shook hands. Lamar gave him the once-over. “Who broke your arm and knocked you upside the head? Was it a woman? No, don’t tell me, it’s none of my business. And speaking of business, let’s get to it because these waders are hot.”
“Have you been fishing?”
“Oh, no, this is my disguise so Carl Lee Stanton won’t know the police are hanging around,” Lamar said. “I borrowed this truck from my cousin, and that old blue tick in the back belongs to my neighbor. This cap is mine though.”
“It’s a great disguise,” Zack said.
“While we’re on the topic of disguises, I should mention to you that only a couple of my key men know you’re FBI. We’re following the brother-in-law thing.”
“That’s good. Do you think you’re going to have enough people?”
“We’re working as fast as we can, Zack, what with all this craziness going on in town right now. I’ve had more domestic disputes, vandalisms, car accidents, you name it, in the last twenty-four hours than I usually have in six months. And now I’ve got half the force working roadblocks.”
“Where do we stand as of now?” Zack asked.
“The sheriff has deputies coming in from several other counties, the highway patrol will have more cars on the road, and Clancy is providing backup. Dang, I’ve got to get back and deputize some people.”
“I’ll be brief,” Zack said. “I just want to make sure we see eye to eye on how to best handle this.”
“Firm things up, so to speak,” Lamar added.
“As we discussed, no patrol cars on this street,” he said. “I don’t even want them in the neighborhood.”
Lamar nodded. “I read you loud and clear, Buddyroe. I’ve put unmarked cars and plainclothes officers in the vicinity, but you’ll be hard-pressed to find a cruiser.” He pulled a lime-green tackle box from behind his seat. “There’s a radio inside. Bottom line, nobody makes a move without your say-so.”
Zack gave him a curious look. “Are you always this agreeable?”
“We’re just two guys trying to do our jobs, right?” Lamar turned slightly in his seat. “You know, I thought about signing on with the FBI.”
“Yeah?”
Lamar nodded. “I’d been on the force a good five years, and things were pretty dull around here so I entertained the idea. Sent off for information. Matter of fact, it was the same year Carl Lee committed his crimes. I put in a lot of hours on the ATM robbery. They caught him a couple of days later in Virginia, of course. After he shot and killed that agent.”
Zack nodded and reached for the tackle box. “Well, I’d better get back—”
“I even took a week’s vacation and drove up to Virginia so I could watch some of the trial,” Lamar added.
Zack looked at him.
“I will never forget the look on the stepson’s face when Stanton got off with a life sentence. I have no sympathy for cop killers, know what I mean? Not one iota.” Lamar held out his hand. “Zack, it was nice meeting you.”
“Same here.” They shook hands once more. Zack climbed from the truck and watched Lamar drive away.
Maggie had finished putting away laundry, and Mel was reluctantly showing Jamie some of her latest artwork when the doorbell rang. Maggie and Zack met up in the living room.
“Check the peephole first,” he said as he looked through a slit in the living room drapes.
“It’s okay,” Maggie said. “Just my neighbors from across the street.” She opened the door. Ben and Lydia Green stood on the other side. Maggie smiled, unlocked the door, and opened it wide. “Come in,” she said, stepping aside so they could enter.
“We brought goodies,” Lydia announced. “My homemade chocolate chip cookies and a Coca-Cola cake,” she added. “I don’t dare keep them in the house on account of Ben’s diabetes.”
“Thank you!” Maggie said, her mouth watering at the sight of chocolate.
Mel suddenly appeared. “Uh-oh,” the girl said. “I’d better eat some quick before Mom adds it to her stash.” Lydia handed both containers to Mel, and she carried them into the kitchen.
“Didn’t you bake that for your granddaughter?” Maggie asked, remembering the six-year-old was due to fly in from Ohio the following day.
Lydia gave a sigh of disappointment. “Emmy is sick, bless her heart. It’s her tonsils again. But my daughter promised she could come at Thanksgiving so she’ll be able to see her new room after all.” Lydia looked at Zack. “My granddaughter loves Barbie. Maggie and Mel helped me decorate one of the guest rooms just for Emmy. Barbie stuff everywhere,” she added.
Maggie noticed Ben and Lydia darting looks at Zack and his injuries. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said and made the introductions, remembering to tell them Zack was her brother-in-law. “Zack is staying for a few days,” she added. She saw relief in Lydia’s eyes and knew she’d heard the news about Carl Lee.
Zack and Ben shook hands. “We’re the old fogies from across the street,” Ben said. He regarded Maggie. “So where did you get the goat?” he asked her.
“You remember Joe Higgins who dumped all the hens on me,” Maggie said, “and we spent the weekend building a chicken coop?”
“Oh, yeah. He must owe you money.”
“I don’t plan to keep her, of course,” Maggie told him. “For one thing, I don’t have a place for her. I hate keeping her tied to a tree, and I don’t like sticking her in a dark garage every night. I put an ad in the newspaper. Maybe I’ll hear something soon.”
“Tell you what,” Ben said. “If Zack is up to it, I’ve got a few posts we can stick in the ground and enough chicken wire to make a temporary pen. Won’t take but a couple of hours since I have a post-hole-digger,”
he added. “I’ve also got an old tarp I can throw over one corner to keep her dry in case it rains.”
“Oh, that’s too much trouble,” Maggie said.
Lydia waved off the remark. “Let him do it, hon. You know how Ben loves having projects, and it keeps him out of my hair.”
Ben looked at Zack. “If you’re willing and able we can get on it right away. You’ll have to help me ca
rry things over.”
“Sure.” Zack turned to Maggie. “Just shout if you need me.”
“That’s one handsome brother-in-law you’ve got there,” Lydia said as the men hurried across the street. She smiled, but her eyes were troubled. “I’m very anxious for you and Mel after reading the newspaper this morning,” she said softly. “I would think you’d have police protection. Why aren’t they here?”
“I can’t go into details, Lydia, but Mel and I are being looked after. The police and FBI are doing everything possible to find Carl Lee Stanton.”
The woman still looked worried as she stepped outside. “If you need anything—”
“I know.” Maggie took her hand and squeezed it.
A moment later, Maggie found Jamie and Mel eating cake and cookies at the kitchen table. “You started without me?” She tried to sound hurt.
“Hey, I matched all the socks for you,” Jamie said. “I have to build up my strength.”
Maggie pulled a plate from a kitchen cabinet and grabbed a fork. Jamie and Mel watched her cut an enormous piece of cake. She looked up. “What?”
“Carl Lee, are you still mad?” Cook’s voice shook.
He’d barely dared to breathe during the five hours since one of the tires had blown on the car and sent them walking. He’d simply followed Carl Lee, no questions asked, through the wooded area that, to their advantage, had replaced cow pastures and would make detection by the police more difficult. Not to mention the fog that had rolled in shortly after and still hugged the road.
“Mad doesn’t come close to what I’m feeling,” Carl Lee finally said. “In fact, I’m about two seconds from putting a bullet between your eyes, and the longer I walk the more I think about it. Does that answer your question?”
Cook maintained a safe distance. “How was I supposed to know there wasn’t a spare in the trunk?”
Carl Lee let out a mouthful of cuss words. “I’m not listening to any more of your pissy excuses, you got that?” He checked his watch, and the scowl on his face turned menacing. “I can’t believe how much driving time we’ve lost because of your stupidity. How you managed to get an accounting degree and a job with a federal savings and loan is beyond me.”