Adrenaline shoots through my veins. “What do we do? Oh fuck, we’re gonna get caught!”
The motor stops and a car door slams. “Rust? Whereare you? My AC is giving me trouble again!” a man shouts and I think I recognize the voice.
“The Deputy!” Rust and I blurt out at once.
His eyes narrow. “Wait, how do you know each other?”
“He stopped me for a broken taillight last night.”
Rust snickers. “You got stopped by a cop with a corpse in your trunk?”
“That’s not funny! Bet he laid awake until morning, thinking something was off and he’s gonna figure it out this time! I can see the headline now: ‘Country star Tally Creed convicted of first degree murder!’ The pictures are going to be a disaster. I look horrible in orange!”
“Simmer down, Trouble. I ain’t lettin’ my wife go to prison.”
If I wasn’t focused on not passing out from panic, I’d be inappropriately swooning at the word ‘wife’ again, which clearly is a whole different problem. One best left for later. One I’ll probably get to ponder behind bars.
“You can’t fight the law, Rust!”
“No, of course you can’t. The law’s an abstract concept the brightest minds of humanity have been debating since mankind developed coherent thought.”
I give him a bleary-eyed stare. “What?”
“But Icanhide your crime,” he adds confidently.
“At this rate, all you’re gonna accomplish is to get us both arrested! Put the dead guy in the barn!”
“Locked. Key’s in the house and you’d have to go past Deputy George to get it cause the backdoor is busted.”
“In the trunk again?” I suggest desperately.
“You barely stuffed him in there and I got no confidence that I’ll manage it in time without sawin’ off a few limbs. But I have an idea. You go and distract George.”
“Rust?” the Deputy calls out again.
I give a defeated sigh. “Ugh,okay. I’ll go.”
“Wait, do you have a pair of sunglasses?” Rust asks.
“Yeah.”
“Give ‘em here.”
I don’t even question him. He’s clearly insane, but I don’t have the time to argue. I pluck my aviator sunglasses from my purse and Rust takes them.
Nearly tripping over my own feet, I sprint toward the house. I round the corner of the barn and run smack dab into a wall that wasn’t there before.
8
TALLY
It’s not a wall.
It’s George.
“Ho there!” he exclaims.
I slap on my stage smile. “Sorry, officer!”
