Fear bulged Marvin’s eyes. “Wait. If you want some real motivation, why don’t you ask Justine these questions?”
“What does that mean?” Emily demanded as if she didn’t see the connection. She didn’t actually.
“Violet had a major crush on Keith, sure,” Marvin said with a nod as he looked from Clint to Emily. “But it was Justine who was totally obsessed with him.”
“Justine Mallory was our teacher,” Emily reminded him. Marvin’s suggestion was ludicrous. “Ten or twelve years older than us.” Recent headlines would suggest that Marvin’s assertion wasn’t such a ridiculous idea. As would Justine’s kinky sex fetishes but still. This was Justine. Everybody loved her. Emily’s biggest concern was what about the missing necklace?
Marvin exchanged a look with Clint. Emily didn’t get it. What could the two of them possibly share other than species and airspace?
“Trust me,” Marvin insisted, his expression manic. “She had a thing for Keith. She got all obsessed and shit with him. When she found out he was dating Heather again that last time, she went nuts. He wasallshe talked about, even when I was giving it to her—if you know what I mean,” he said to Clint. “And Keith ...” Marvin shrugged, “... he was torn big-time. He liked being with Justine. Hell, who didn’t? But I think her coming on so strong freaked him out.”
Emily felt weak all over. Justine had been jealous of Heather? She’d been having sex with the guys? How could Emily not have known this?
“You’d better not say you got that from me,” Marvin warned, his face suddenly going pale. “If she found out ...”
“So what?” Clint argued. “What can she possibly do to you now? If she’s guilty of what you say, then she needs to face the consequences.”
“Youknowshe’s guilty,” Marvin said to Clint, then looked around as if he was afraid someone would hear. “All I can say is, it’s like my daddy always told me. This is Alabama. The Bible Belt and all that. You can raise cattle your whole life and never be called a rancher but get caught sucking one dick and you’re a queer for life. No offense to alternative lifestyles but my wife can never know this.” He backed toward his door. “Whatever you do, just keep my name out of it.”
Clint couldn’t get Emily out of there fast enough. Her head was spinning; her stomach churned as they climbed back into his truck to go.
“Is any of that possible?” she asked, knowing Marvin hadn’t directed certain comments to Clint for no reason.
“I remember the year I started high school. Justine Mallory had only been at Pine Bluff High I think three or four years.” He shrugged. “All the guys thought she was beautiful. I was a freshman and damned stupid, but I wasn’t blind. She was beautiful.”
Emily didn’t interrupt him. She was afraid if she said a word to encourage him, the truth she didn’t want to hear would come spilling out faster than it already was.
“By senior year, I could see the writing on the wall. She always had her picks. A couple of guys each year, usually athletes. But nobody could prove it and the boys never said a word. I don’t know how she kept them from bragging, but nobody I suspected was involved with her ever talked.” He glanced at Emily. “But I knew. She hit on me my senior year. I ignored her and that was the end of it. But she had it in for me after that. I barely survived her class.”
Emily didn’t know how to feel. They were talking fifteen years. Justine had been teaching here for a decade and a half. That meant dozens of guys. “Surely someone would’ve suspected something or one of the guys would have talked.”
“I can’t answer that.” He braked for the first traffic light as they entered Pine Bluff proper. “All I can say is what I suspected. Maybe she stopped. Apparently there were blackmail photos. That sure appears to be the way Justine kept Marvin quiet.” Clint held Emily’s gaze. “Whatwere you talking about when you said something about a discovery at Justine’s house? Did you find the necklace?”
Oh hell. He wasn’t going to like this. “When I went off on that tangent about Marvin I completely forgot I hadn’t told you.” She quickly recounted to Clint what she’d seen and heard and how she hadn’t found Justine’s necklace. “The pictures were really wild.” Emily shuddered at the idea that there could actually be something to what Marvin had said.
“The ones I saw could definitely be construed as blackmail photos,” she added. “And all that expensive jewelry ...” That part suddenly surfaced amid her worrisome thoughts and she shared that aspect with Clint as well. “How could she afford all that?”
“You went to her house,” Clint said, his face stony when he glanced at her, “and took that kind of risk? What were you thinking?”
“I was desperate to find out if she still had her necklace.” Emily couldn’t fully absorb the scope of what they were alleging here. Maybe it was the concussion. “It’s hard to believe I was that close to her all those years and didn’t suspect a thing. She was a friend to all the cheerleaders. Everybody loved her.” Still did, Emily realized, recalling her recent visit to the school.
“A good enough friend to know about the open window?” Clint asked. “To know Heather would be in your bed that night?”
He braked for a light and their gazes collided again. Emily felt the earth shift beneath her. “Yes.”
53
Midnight
Granville poured himself a brandy, downed it, then poured himself another. He repeated the process twice more before he paused to catch his breath.
He was sixty-two years old. He’d spent the past forty years amassing his vast fortune. He’d worked hard to reach this place in his life. The only thing he’d ever really wanted was for his family to be happy.
There had been sacrifices, of course.
A man didn’t reach this level of security without having stepped on a few toes and over a few bodies, figuratively speaking. Those times weighed on Granville’s conscience. He would, in the end, answer to his maker for those choices, but even if he had the chance, he wouldn’t do a thing differently. His daddy had always preached one motto:Do what you’re big enough to do.
As imperfect as he might be, Granville was still a damn good Christian compared to many. He’d loved his wife and she had never known about his indiscretions. He gave to his church and he gave to his community. He gave a hefty chunk. But then, who was keeping count?
