The Liar

29

When Griff walked into Vi’s place on Saturday, Snickers rocked the house. Women—stylists, customers, technicians—hunkered down to oooh over him, to rub his belly, stroke his ears, and generally to send the dog into an apoplexy of joy.

He thought back to his early twenties when he’d routinely looked for ways to meet women.

He should’ve rented a puppy.

He’d come in—under protest, and under Emma Kate’s orders—to get his hair trimmed up. He hated getting his hair trimmed up, but she’d been a little bit scary in the intensity of the order.

“You need yourself a trim,” Viola stated, and made his shoulders hunch.

“Emma Kate said I had to, but you’re busy, so—”

“Nobody’s in my chair this minute. You come over here, Griffin, and sit.”

The pup immediately plunked his butt down and looked pleased with himself. And the women chorused an awwww!

“A man should look well-groomed for his best friend’s engagement party.” Viola pointed a finger at her chair. “Be good like your dog.”

“Just, you know, a little.” Wishing himself pretty much anywhere else, Griff sat.

“Have I ever taken whacks at it?”

“No, ma’am.”

She whipped a cape around him, picked up her spray bottle to dampen it down.

“You’ve got a fine head of hair, Griffin. I’ll see you keep it. I suspect you were traumatized at the barbershop as a young boy.”

“They brought in a clown—one of those crazy-wigged clowns. It was bad. Really bad. Did you ever read It? Stephen King’s book? That kind of clown.”

“No clowns around here of any kind.” Enjoying herself, she gave his cheek a rub. “Boy, you need a shave.”

“Yeah, I’ll take care of it later.”

“I’ll give you a shave.” When his eyes went a little wild, she just smiled. “Have you ever had a woman give you a good, close shave with a straight razor?”

“No.”

“You’re in for a treat.” She adjusted the chair, picked up her scissors. “You haven’t asked where Shelby is.”

“I was counting on you to tell me.”

“She’s in the back. We got a group of six women, friends since college. They’re taking a long weekend together, staying up at the big hotel. It’s nice having forever friends. You’ve got that with Matt.”

“Yeah, I do.”

She kept up an easy conversation while she drew small sections of his hair up between her fingers, snipped. To relax him, he knew. Every couple of months, when he talked himself into going in for a trim—or got pushed there—she did the same.

He liked to watch her work—the quick, competent, precise moves, the way her eyes measured the cut even as she talked to him or tossed out orders, answered questions.

She could keep up with half a dozen conversations at once. He considered it a rare skill.

“She’s going to be beautiful all her life.”

“Shelby?”

Viola met his eyes in the mirror, smiled. “Wait till you see her tonight. She’s got to get out of here soon, get Callie settled, then come back here so I can do her hair up. I see it in my head already.”

“You’re not going to straighten it, are you?”

“Not a bit. She says she’s got to get up to the hotel early, so you won’t be able to take her, and that’s a shame because I believe the pair of you would make quite the entrance.

“Lorilee, I’m about done here. Would you go heat me up a towel for Griff’s shave?”

“Sure thing, Miz Vi.”

“You really don’t have to—”

“Griffin Lott, how are you going to talk me into leaving my husband of near to fifty years and running off with you if you don’t trust me not to cut your throat?”

So he ended up cocked back in the chair, a moist hot towel covering his face—but for the nose. He had to admit, it felt great—until he heard the sounds of her stropping the razor.

“I still use my great-granddaddy’s razor,” she said conversationally. “That’s for sentiment mostly. He passed it to my granddaddy, and he’s the one taught me how to shave a man.”

He actually felt his Adam’s apple try to shrink.

“When’s the last time you did?”

“I shave Jackson most every week.” She leaned down close. “We think of it as foreplay.”

As he choked, she removed the towel. “We won’t think of that as you’re thinking of that with my grandbaby. Added to it, I used to shave Mayor Haggerty every Saturday morning—before he retired and moved to Tampa, Florida. We’ve got a woman mayor now.”

She poured oil into her hands, rubbed them together, then smoothed it over his face.

“This is going to soften your beard up, and give you a nice cushion between your face, the cream and the blade. Smells nice, too.”

“That doesn’t sound like your grandfather’s shave.”

“You’ve got to move with the times.” Busily she laid a thick layer of shaving cream over his face, his throat, using a wide, stubby brush to whirl it. “So to go back, I don’t shave the mayor these days. But there are one or two around who like a good barbershop shave regular who come in. Others go to Lester’s Barbershop. He’s always talking about retiring, and if he ever does, I’ll be expanding my services for gentlemen.”

“Always thinking.”

“Oh, I am, Griffin.”

His gaze slid toward the straight razor with its pearl handle, then away.

“What you do,” she continued, “is work in short strokes, with the grain of the hair. Then, if you want a good, close shave like I’m giving you today, you go back again, against the grain.” Gently, with her thumb, she pulled the skin under his sideburn tight. “Don’t feel much pressure, right? Gotta let the blade do the work. If you need pressure, you need a sharper blade.”

She worked methodically, keeping up a flow of words. He relaxed, mostly, even when he felt the blade against his throat.

“Are you aiming to marry my girl, Griffin?”

He opened his eyes, looked up into hers. He saw amusement in hers. “As soon as she’s ready.”

“That’s a fine answer. I taught her to shave a man.”

“Really?”

“She might be out of practice, but she had a good hand with it. And speaking of that, here she comes.”

He was afraid to move, could only shift his eyes. He heard the dog scramble up, heard her voice. Heard her laugh.

“Fathoms deep,” Viola murmured. “That’s what the poets say. You’re fathoms deep, Griffin.”

“And still sinking.”

“Well, look at this! I didn’t know you went for the barbershop shave, Griff.”

“It’s my first.”

Shelby stroked two fingers over his left cheek. “Mmmm. Smooth as it gets.”

“Foreplay,” Viola said again, and had Shelby snickering.

“It does make you think, doesn’t it? Granny, I’m sorry, but I have to go. I got an SOS from the hotel as it seems Miz Bitsy took herself up there even after she promised she wouldn’t. Now I have to put out a couple little fires before she gets them blazing.”

“You go right on. I told you to take the day off.”

“I thought she’d be busy right in here. She’s got appointments, for hair and nails. I’ve got to get her out of the way, smooth things down and be back here in less than a half hour to get the girls. I promised I’d take them to Story Time, and Tracey’s got plans. Miz Suzannah’s got a dentist appointment. I can’t let Miz Bitsy have her head up there right now, and I don’t want to disappoint Callie and Chelsea.”

“I’ll do it.”

Shelby gave Griff’s shoulder a pat before she hurried to the front counter for her purse. “I don’t doubt you’re good at putting out fires, but—”

“No, not Miz Bitsy. I’ll pick up the kids, take them to Story Time.”

As with the puppy, this generated a chorus of awws from bystanders.

“Griff, I’m talking about two four-year-olds.”

“I got that.”

“And don’t you have work?”

“Matt took off—he and Emma Kate were able to grab an appointment to look at this place for the wedding.”

“What place?”

“I don’t know. Some wedding place. I’ve done about all I can do on my own till about three, when we’ve got some more material coming in.”

“I’m supposed to have the girls over at Miz Suzannah’s at around three. They’re having a sleepover.”

“There you go. I’ll pick them up, take them to Story Time. We can kick around in the park or something for an hour, whatever, if you’re not back. I’ll drop them off, and be back when the material gets here.

“You can take my truck. I’ll take your van.”

“I’m not sure if Tracey would feel right about you taking the girls.”

“Oh, she’ll be fine, Shelby.” Viola flicked that idea away. “She’s a sensible girl, she knows Griff, and she knows you’ve got your plate full today.”

“You’re right. My head’s already spinning.” She dug her keys out of her purse pocket. “Thank you, Griff. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Take your time. If you’re not back by three, I’ll just give Callie a nail gun, give Chelsea a skill saw. It’ll keep them busy.”

“You’re a comfort to me.”

“Keys are in my right front pocket.”

She arched her eyebrows. “You just want my hand in your pocket.”

“Didn’t know it was an option when I put the keys there, but it’s a nice one.”

She slid her hand in, hooked the keys. “Thank you,” she said again, kissed him, said mmmm again. “Y’all pray for me,” she called out as she hurried for the door.

• • •

GRIFF SETTLED DOWN at Rendezvous Books, where apparently Story Time for the preschool set happened once a month. And who didn’t like Story Time? he asked himself, leaning against one of the stacks with a glass of iced coffee while about a dozen pint-sizers sat in a circle, listening to a story about a young boy and a young dragon with an injured wing.

He knew Miz Darlene—a retired schoolteacher who worked part-time at the bookstore. He and Matt had put a small addition on her house the previous fall, giving her a cozy reading room.

She deserved one, he thought. She read really, really well, doing voices, adding just the right elements of sorrow, joy, surprise and wonder.

She had the kids in the palm of her hand. And he was pretty interested in what was happening with Thaddeus and his dragon Grommel himself.

From somewhere deeper in the store, a baby began to cry. He could hear a woman’s voice softly soothing, then the sound of her steps as she walked, back and forth, back and forth, and the crying stopped.

Sunlight streamed in the front window, through the glass panes of the front door, falling in square patterns of light on the old wood floor.

The pattern changed when the door opened; the bell jingled, then the pattern fell back into place. Changed again when a shadow crossed over it. He barely noted the man as more than that—a shadow that changed the pattern briefly.

Then the story ended, and Callie ran straight to him.

“Did you hear? Did you? Grommel’s wing got better, and Thaddeus got to keep him! I wish I had a dragon.”

“Me, too.” He reached down for Chelsea’s hand.

“Can we get a book?” Callie wanted to know. “About Thaddeus and Grommel?”

“Sure. Then I say we get ice cream cones and head to the park.”

They got the book, and since it turned out there was already a second adventure written, he bought each girl the new one, then ice cream that dripped in strawberry streams faster than the kids could eat them.

He used the water fountain in the park to deal with sticky hands before he worked off the ice cream high by chasing the girls around, up and down the big play station.

When he dropped down, feigning defeat, the girls ran circles around him.

Callie tugged Chelsea’s hand so they moved a few steps away, and began to whisper.

“What’s the secret?”

“Chelsea says boys are supposed to ask.”

He sat up cross-legged. “Ask what?”

More whispering, then Callie gave an innately female head toss and marched to him. “I can ask if I want.”

“Okay.”

“Can we get married? We can live in your house, and Mama can come, too. ’Cause I love you.”

“Wow. I love you, too.”

“So we can get married like Emma Kate and Matt, and we can all live in your house with Snickers. For happy ever after.”

Undone, he drew her in. “Let me work on that.”

“No tickles,” she said, rubbing his cheek.

“Not today.”

“I like tickles.”

He drew her in again. Fathoms deep, he thought. “They’ll be back.”

He took out his phone at the signal.

Sorry it took so long—fires all out. On my way back.

He kept an arm around Callie as he answered.

In the park, smoking cigarettes and having a couple beers. We can switch off from here.

Her answer came moments later. Don’t litter. I’ll be there in ten minutes.

He slipped the phone back in his pocket. “Your mom’s on the way, Callie.”

“But we want to play with you!”

“I have to go to work. But before I do . . .” He shoved up, grabbed up both girls like footballs and had them squealing as he raced around the play set with Snickers running after them.

He caught sight of the man who’d come into the bookstore—or he thought it was him—at the far end of the park. Found himself holding the girls just a little closer.

Then the man glanced to the left, grinned, waved and strolled off toward someone Griff couldn’t see.

Kids, he thought, setting the girls down so they could chase him. They made you suspicious of everything and everyone.

• • •

SHELBY ZIPPED THROUGH the rest of the day, doing the switch—kids and cars—with Griff, dropping the girls off at Miz Suzannah’s. She gave Callie an extra hug, thinking it was her first genuine sleepover—one outside family.

Back to the salon for hair, and at Crystal’s insistence, makeup. While she’d have preferred seeing to her own face, she couldn’t find a way to say no without insulting Crystal. But her nerves showed enough for Crystal to vow not to “tart her up.”

It certainly saved time, having herself fussed over like a celebrity, while she sent and answered texts from hotel catering, from the florist, from Emma Kate.

And too many to count from Miz Bitsy.

They kept her faced away from the mirror while they worked in tandem, then swung the chair around with a flourish for the big reveal.

All doubts vanished.

“Why, I look amazing!”

“Played up your eyes more than you usually do,” Crystal began, “but kept it subtle. So it’s elegant, like your hair.”

“I’ll say I’m elegant. And I look like me with a boost—not like the two of you fussed over me for near to an hour. I love it, Crystal, and I’ll never doubt you again. And Granny, my hair is just wonderful. That thin band for just a little sparkle sets off the curls you’ve got tumbling out the bun in the back.”

“A few loose tendrils around your face,” Viola added, fussing with them a little more, “so it doesn’t look like you spent five minutes on it—just spent the right five.”

“I don’t know if the rest of me can live up to what y’all have done, but I’ll try my best. Thank you, thank you so much!” She hugged them both. “I’ve got to go. I’m determined to be at the hotel before Miz Bitsy. I’ll see you both there.”

She calculated she’d have the house to herself for an hour before her mother got home—two if Ada Mae opted to get her hair and face done up at the salon first.

She wouldn’t need two.

She grabbed a Coke out of the kitchen, took a breath. She’d planned on wearing her simple black dress, but with the Grecian style Granny had come up with, she reassessed as she went upstairs.

The black dress would work for anything, no question—and had already done service at three Friday Nights. She’d yet to wear the silver gray one she’d brought with her from her closet up North. It just didn’t suit Friday Nights. But for this . . .

Taking it out, she held it up in front of her, turned to the mirror. The lines were a little more fluid, more flowy, and would play up the hair. Not the black shoes now, she decided. They’d be too stark. But she had those blue sandals with the low heels—low heels would be more practical anyway when she’d likely be running around half the night.

And the dress had slit pockets, so she could slip her phone right in, have it handy.

Decision made, she dressed, added long dangling earrings and a trio of thin, sparkly bracelets from Callie’s dress-up box.

She packed toiletries, a change of clothes since she was having her own overnight at Griff’s after the party.

In an hour flat, and feeling pretty damn good about herself, she got back in her car and drove to the hotel.

Shelby figured she’d spent more time there in the past three weeks than she had in the whole of her life, but it still made her smile to make that turn up the rising road and see the spread of the big stone building through the trees.

She parked, took the slate path toward the wide front veranda, where two big white pots held red and white begonias with some trailing blue lobelia.

If Emma Kate and Matt decided to have their wedding here, she imagined those pots spilling with yellow and lavender flowers.

Some of the staff greeted her as she crossed over the wide-planked floor of the lobby, headed straight for the ballroom.

Decorating was well under way, and she saw, happily, that she’d been right. The deep purple cloths over the white added casual elegance, the perfect canvas for the bowls of white hydrangeas and clear, square holders holding white tea lights.

A mix of high- and low-tops, of chairs and stools.

She planned to echo that on the terrace, add some freestanding urns with white calla lilies and roses, some peonies and airy, trailing greenery.

It was all so Emma Kate.

Spotting the florist, Shelby moved to her. “Point me where you want me.”

By the time the future bride and groom arrived, everything was in place—and she saw from the look on her friend’s face, every hour of work, every drive up and back, every banging Bitsy headache had been worth it.

“Oh, Shelby.”

“Don’t start watering up! You’ll have me doing it, and we’ll ruin our makeup. We both look amazing.”

“It’s so beautiful. Everything I wanted, and more I didn’t know I wanted. It’s like a dream.”

“It was our dream.” She took Emma Kate’s hand, and Matt’s, joined them. “Now it’s your dream. I now pronounce you engaged.”

“We have one more favor.”

Shelby reached in her pocket, pulled out her fist. “I happen to have one favor left over, right here. What can I do?”

“Matt and I decided on our song—at least for now. ‘Stand by Me.’ You know it, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“We want you to sing it tonight.”

“But you’ve got a band.”

“We really want you to sing it.” Emma Kate took Shelby’s hand between both of hers. “Would you please, Shelby? Just that one song. For us.”

“I’d be happy to. I’ll speak to the band about it. Right now we’re going to get you a drink, and I’m going to show you around before people start getting here and you don’t have a minute.”

“Griff’s right behind us,” Matt said. “In fact, here he is now.”

“Oh, well, my! Look at you.” She brushed a hand down the lapel of his dark gray suit, and thought how lucky it was she’d worn the pale gray dress. “You’re so dashing.”

“Goddess of the mountain,” he murmured. “You take my breath.”

He lifted her hand, kissed it. She flushed—something she’d taught herself not to do—as a redhead—while still in her teens. “Thank you, sir. The four of us do look nearly as wonderful as the room. I think we should have the first glasses of champagne. And Emma Kate, I want to show you the terrace. We’ve strung little white lights in the potted trees. It’s a fairyland.”

“Flowers and candles and fairy lights,” Griff commented as they toured the space. “All the sparkle, none of the fuss.”

“I cut miles of frills out of Miz Bitsy’s vision, but I really do think she’s going to be pleased with how it all turned out. We might have a storm coming in, but not until after midnight.”

She tapped her pocket and her phone. “I keep checking my weather app, and so far, so good. There’s Miz Bitsy now. And doesn’t she look pretty in her long red dress? I’d better go talk to her.”

“Want backup?”

She grabbed his hand. “Do I ever.”

• • •

SHE DANCED WITH HIM. It didn’t occur to her until later that not once did a memory of other formal parties and elegant dress intrude. She never thought of Richard, who’d worn a tux as if he were born in one.

Everything centered on the moment.

Dancing with her father, who pulled out some of the ballroom moves he’d retained from when Ada Mae had nagged him into lessons. And her grandfather, who swung her into some clogging—and there her muscle memory wasn’t as keen as his—when the band kicked it up a few licks. With Clay, who hadn’t inherited any rhythm at all, and with Forrest, who’d taken Clay’s share of it.

“How’d you get in here?” she asked Forrest. “You’re not wearing a tux or even a suit and tie.”

“It’s the badge.” He circled her in a smooth two-step. “I told Miz Bitsy I was on duty.”

“Are you?”

He only grinned. “I consider myself always on duty, and I haven’t worn a monkey suit since senior prom. I hope to continue that winning streak.”

“Nobby’s wearing one.”

“He is, but he swore to back me up on the on-duty excuse.”

“What’d you bribe him with?”

“A fancy coffee and a couple bear claws fresh from the bakery.”

She laughed, circled with him.

“You look as good as it gets tonight, little sister.”

“I feel as good as it gets tonight, big brother. Look how happy everybody is. Emma Kate could light the place up all on her own.”

“Stealing her back,” Griff said as he cut in.

“I could arrest you for that, but I’ll let it go. There’s a blonde over there who looks like she could use some company.”

Shelby glanced over. “Her name’s Heather. She worked with Emma Kate at the hospital in Baltimore. She’s single.”

“That works.”

Griff drew Shelby in as Forrest wandered toward the blonde. “You’ve got a hit on your hands, Red.”

“I know it.” She slid her hands up his back, pressed her cheek to his. “It feels so good—just like you. I was just saying how happy everybody is. It’s so nice knowing people are happy for Emma Kate and Matt. And Miz Bitsy— Oh, there she goes, tearing up again, and bolting toward the ladies’. I’ll just go take care of that.”

Shelby turned her head, brushed a kiss over his cheek. “It shouldn’t take long—or it could take twenty minutes if it’s a genuine crying jag. I’ll probably appreciate another glass of champagne once I handle this.”

“I’ll make sure it’s waiting.”

She started for the doors, and the restrooms beyond them. And pulled out her phone when it rang.

“Miz Suzannah? Is everything all right?”

“It’s nothing much, honey. It’s just Callie forgot Fifi, and she’s heartbroken. We didn’t realize it until we were getting them into bed. I’ve tried substitutes, but she’s just set on her Fifi.”

“I don’t know how I could’ve sent her off to you without Fifi. We don’t want her first overnight spoiled. I’ll just run to the house and get Fifi, drop her off. It won’t take fifteen minutes for me to get there.”

“I’m so sorry to interrupt and cause you that trouble. My Bill would go get the dog, but I know your mama’s been locking up.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m on my way now. Tell Callie I’m bringing Fifi.”

She spotted Crystal on her way to the ladies’. “I’ve got a favor to ask. Miz Bitsy’s in there, crying a little, just happy, you know how it is, and emotional. I’ve got to run get Fifi for Callie. Could you just soothe Miz Bitsy—or ask Granny to—and let Griff know, if you see him, I’ll be back in under a half hour.”

“Sure, I will. You want me to go get Fifi?”

“Thank you, but I’ll be quick.”

“Oh, here! I meant to give you this at the salon. The lipstick I used on you.”

“Thank you, Crystal. Keep this party going!”

“You can count on me.”

Hurrying off, Shelby shoved the lipstick in her right pocket, the phone in her left. She cast her mind back to packing for Callie. She knew she’d had Fifi right there, but . . .

She saw it now, Callie picking up the stuffed dog to talk to it about their sleepover.

And carting the dog with her when she’d followed her mama into the other bedroom.

“On the windowsill,” she remembered. How she’d overlooked that, she’d never know.

That was all right—she’d be back again before anyone missed her. And Callie and Fifi would be reunited.

She cut around town as a Saturday night in the summer could be busy, and made it to the house in under ten minutes. Grateful for the low heels, she ran for the door. They’d scheduled her song for midway through the evening, so she had thirty minutes to spare. But no more.

She dashed straight upstairs, into her bedroom.

“There you are, Fifi. I’m so sorry you got left behind.” She plucked the much-loved dog off the windowsill, turned to rush right back out again.

And he stepped into the doorway. The dog slipped out of her numb fingers as he moved toward her.

“Hello, Shelby. Long time, no see.”

“Richard.”

His hair was dark, a deep, unfamiliar brown, and fell in careless waves well over his collar. Thick scruff covered the lower half of his face. He wore a camo T-shirt and rough khaki pants with scarred army boots. A combination he wouldn’t have been caught dead in.

Oh God.

“They—they said you were dead.”

“They said what I wanted them to say. It didn’t take you long to go running back home, and spreading your legs for some carpenter. Did you cry for me, Shelby?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You never did understand much of anything. I guess we’ve got to have a long talk, you and I. Let’s go.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He reached casually behind his back, drew out a gun. “Yes, you are.”

The gun in his hand struck her just as unbelievable as all the rest. “Are you going to shoot me? For what? I don’t have anything you could want.”

“Did have.” He nodded toward the photo on her dresser. She saw now he’d taken it apart.

“I know you, Shelby. You’re so damn simple. One thing you’d never get rid of—that picture you gave me of you and the kid. If they picked me up, they’d still have nothing. I kept what I needed with my lovely wife and daughter.”

“Behind our picture,” she murmured. “What did you hide there?”

“Key to the kingdom. We’ll talk. Let’s go.”

“I’m not—”

“I know where she is,” he said quietly. “Spending the night with her little friend Chelsea. At the grandmother’s. Maybe I’ll just go over there, pay Callie a visit.”

Fear sliced through her, a knife to the bone. “No. No, you stay away from her. You leave her be.”

“I’ll kill you right here where your family will find you. If I have to handle it that way, the kid’s my next stop. Your choice, Shelby.”

“I’ll go. Just leave Callie alone, and I’ll go with you.”

“Damn right you will.” He gestured her out of the room with the gun. “So predictable—always were, always will be. I knew you were a born mark the first time I saw you.”

“Why don’t you just take what you came for and go? We don’t mean anything to you.”

“And how far would I get before you called your cop brother?” As they stepped out of the house, he put an arm tight around her waist, pressed the gun into her side. “We’re going to walk down a little bit, take my car. A minivan, Shelby? You’re an embarrassment to me.”

That tone, that pitying tone. How often had she heard it? “I’m nothing to you, never was.”

“Oh, you were so useful.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, made her shudder. “And at first, hell, you were even fun. God knows you were eager in the sack. This one. Get in, climb over. You’re going to drive.”

“Where are we going?”

“A little place I know. Quiet. Private. It’s just what we need for a heart-to-heart.”

“Why aren’t you dead?”

“You’d like that.”

“I swear on all that’s in me, I would.”

He shoved her into the car, forcing her to crawl over to the driver’s seat.

“I never did anything to you. I did what you wanted, went where you wanted. I gave you a child.”

“And bored the crap out of me. Drive, and keep it to the speed limit. You go over, you go under, I’ll shoot you in the gut. It’s a painful way to die.”

“I can’t drive if I don’t know where I’m going.”

“Take the back roads around that hole-in-the-wall you call a town. Try anything, Shelby, I’ll take you out, then I go after the kid. I’ve got too much at stake, and I’ve worked and waited for it too long to let you fuck it up.”

“You think I care about the jewelry, the money? Take it and go.”

“Oh, I will. First thing Monday morning. If you hadn’t come into the bedroom, you’d never have known I was there. As it is, we’ll have a reunion weekend, then I’m gone. Just do what you’re told, like always, and you’ll be fine.”

“They’ll look for me.”

“And they won’t find you.” Sneering, he pressed the barrel of the gun into her side. “Jesus, you stupid bitch, do you think I’ve outwitted the cops all this time and can’t keep ahead of a bunch of Barney Fifes for a day? Take this turn coming up, to the right. Nice and easy.”

“Your partner’s been around. Jimmy Harlow. Maybe he’ll have better luck finding you.”

“I don’t think so.”

His tone froze her blood.

“What did you do?”

“Found him first. Steady on these switchbacks. I wouldn’t want this gun to go off.”

Her insides quaked, but she kept her hands steady as she negotiated the tight wind of the climb.

“Why did you marry me?”

“It served my purpose at the time. I never could smooth you out, though, never could make anything out of you. Listen to you, look at you, I gave you plenty of money, taught you how to buy the right clothes, how to give a decent dinner party, and you’re still the ignorant hick from the Tennessee hills. It’s amazing I haven’t bashed what brains you have out before now.”

“You’re a thief and a swindler.”

“That’s right, honey.” His sneer shifted to a cheerful grin. “And I’m damn good at it. You? You’ve never been good at anything. Take this excuse for a road on the left. Nice and slow now.”

He might’ve thought her ignorant, useless, malleable, but she knew the hills. And had a reasonable idea where they were going.

“What happened in Miami? All those years ago,” she asked, wanting to keep him talking, distract him as she slid her left hand into her pocket.

“Oh, we’ll talk about that. We’ve got a lot of things to talk about.”

Texting while driving, she thought, struggling not to give way to hysteria, was dangerous.

She hoped to God she managed to do it right.

Because while she knew the hills, she thought she knew the man beside her now. And she believed he meant to kill her before he was done.