“I found this in my mom’s top dresser drawer.” My beautiful temp-wife sighs deeply and shoves the picture at me.
Lucky holds her hand and if he doesn’t let go soon, I may need to break his fingers. “Good move. Everyone knows you sheilas keep everything important there.”
She smiles sadly and sighs again. “But you know? There wasn’t one picture of me. This shot of her was taken at Faith’s wedding, about twenty years ago.”
She looks to me. “She was married in the same room we were but, on that day, there were foldout bells, crepe paper, and my mother made a wedding cake. The ceremony was very similar to ours.” She stops and her beautiful amethyst eyes meet mine, crushing my heart.
I know she’s thinking how we made love and I want to assure her my feelings were real but I can’t say so with Suds and Lucky in the van. The drugstore order was already way too much personal information.
Not hearing what she wants from me, her eyes dull as she stares out the front window of the car. “After the preacher gave her away, Faith cried and ran into the kitchen area. David followed. I was so small they didn’t see me in the doorway. I remember being astonished Faith had the courage to speak up to David. At the time, no one I knew would’ve dared. When she said she didn’t want to marry him, he laughed and said it was too late. She told him she’d run away and that’s when he hit her across the mouth. My sister stumbled over a wedding gift, fell back, and hit her head. By the angle of her neck, I’m sure she died instantly.”
Blakely pauses, her eyes still focused far away, her voice almost in a whisper. “Then, I swear to God, I saw him open the large freezer, pick her up, and drop her in it.”
“Is the freezer still there, luv?” Lucky presses a palm to her cheek, to bring her to the present and I see fucking red. No one touches her but me.
Deep in thought, she closes her eyes and bites her lower lip. “No. It was industrial, white, about five feet long with a big chrome latch in the middle. Much later, when I was allowed back into the recreation room, the freezer was gone. He killed her. Maybe not on purpose, but he did it.”
Suds shakes his head and pulls off onto a dirt road. “And got away with it. Even with a roomful of guests. Jesus.”
The shock-absorbers on the van must be shot because we all bounce up and down violently but Blakely hardly notices. “Damn. I witnessed her death and yet never said a word.”
“You were five. You had no power.” I lean over my seat and take her hand until her face clears.
“I guess I blocked it all out. I’ve had nightmares of the old kitchen for years. I always assumed it was my fear of being sent back to the cult.”
“Let’s get you back home, out of Utah. You have your answers. Maybe with this picture, we can start an investigation.”
She sits up straight, eyes wide. “No. I have a better idea. Can we stop someplace safe and talk?”
Oh shit.
Much later, we sit around a kitchen table in a safe house inside the Ute Reservation. Apparently, the adobe house belonged to Suds’ grandmother and now it’s his.
“I didn’t know you had Ute blood.” I grab a beer from the refrigerator, sit on the couch, and pull Blakely onto my lap.
“No one knows. My dad never got onto my birth certificate.”
Blakely takes it all in, leans back, slowly becoming more comfortable with my touch. Whatever is happening between us, I don’t want it to end and thank fuck, neither does she. We didn’t get much sleep last night and I could use a nap but she still has this pent-up energy to get out of her system.
Both Lucky and Suds are all ears as they try to figure out a plan. Those two bastards love a good game and she has them thoroughly engaged. “There must be some way to force his hand.”
“To get away with murder, he had to have hidden the freezer. That’s what I would’ve done.” Lucky takes a deep draw from his bottle, pulls the handle on the recliner, and drops fast to stare at the ceiling.
Suds paces, every few minutes checking out the front window. “Why not just take her out back and bury her?”
“Too risky. He might be seen.” I add my two cents because there’s nothing much else to do but join in their conjecture. My perfectly rational suggestion we go home has been shot down more than once.
“Why not throw her body in the desert?” Blakely enjoys this game way too much.
When Lucky winks at her, she grins at his flirting. “Forensics. Again, too much risk. Better to just hide the freezer. I bet he rented a truck and took it to a dump, luv.”
God damn it.I should never have called in for his help. He’s a fucking babe-magnet with his stupid accent.
Blake pouts. “You all make proving him guilty sound hopeless.”
“You’re what? Twenty-five?” Lucky takes another gulp of beer.
“Twenty-seven.”
