If she had anything to hide, she would do one of two things while she still had the cover of darkness to her advantage: run like hell to escape the coming wrath or try to cover her tracks.
Just like the good book said,Your deeds will always find you out. He’d made his share of mistakes; he’d paid the price. He would find out who was responsible for his son’s death. And then that person would pay dearly.
54
Wednesday, July 24; 12:35 a.m.
“In the barn? That’s where you want to sleep?”
“Yep.”
Clint helped her out of the truck, which wasn’t really necessary, but at this point she kind of liked holding his hand. And she was exhausted. Totally and completely.
“But what about that nice new trailer?” She gestured to the temporary housing that had been provided by the insurance company. They’d come and set it up without even notifying Clint. He’d been as surprised as she was when they arrived five minutes ago.
“That’s where we want anyone who comes snooping around to think we are.”
The heavy cloud cover didn’t allow much of the moon to show through, just the occasional glimpse. They could definitely use some rain. If they were lucky, the ominous sky would deliver.
Clint led her deep inside the barn where it was even darker but, thankfully, cooler. He clicked on the flashlight, had her hold it, while he shook the sleeping bags to ensure no critters had crawled inside them.
“Will this work?” he asked when he’d arranged the bedding.
“Sure.” A bed might have been softer, but he had a point. Out here would be safer. Considering how his house had been burned tothe ground and that both Keith and Ray had been murdered, taking precautions was necessary.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Where’re you going?” She wanted to stay close to him, but she was beat. Her head had started to ache again.
“To turn on a light inside and maybe try to make the bed look as if we’re in it.”
Another good idea.
Emily got comfortable and waited for him to come back. When he returned he tossed something on the ground near the sleeping bags and settled in next to her. Not as close as she would have liked. The distance, only an inch or two, felt like a yawning canyon between them. Why didn’t he touch her? She needed him to hold her. To make her mind stop playing everything over and over.
“Don’t be afraid.”
His deep, reassuring voice whispering softly through the darkness made her tremble.
“I’m not afraid.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m ... just tense.” Vivid flashes of that first time they’d been together, right here in this barn, escalated that already building tension. The cool, damp scent of earth, sweet smell of hay and the vague essence of warm male flesh were drugging, and she breathed more deeply. A sudden unexpected breeze filtered in, bringing more scents and sensations. The lingering odor of charred wood ... the chant of crickets ... the promise of rain.
“You try to sleep; I’ll keep watch. First thing in the morning we’ll talk to Caruthers and start keeping an eye on Justine. If she’s involved, she’s bound to be getting nervous.”
She snuggled closer to him and he slipped a protective arm around her. Finally. Another worrisome thought occurred to her. “Do you think anyone will take us seriously? I mean, if Justine was obsessed with Keith, would she kill him? And why kill Ray?”
They had no proof of anything. Maybe Justine was having sex with some of her students, but that didn’t make her a murderer. Sure, her friend Misty was weird, but that didn’t make her a murderer either. None of it connected fully. Especially the idea that Ray Hale would cover up for a murderer. Emily knew Ray. He’d been a good man. There simply was no motivation for him to protect Justine. And the idea that Justine would have killed Heather just to get to Keith was way too far-fetched. It didn’t feel realistic or logical.
But then none of this did.
Clint kissed Emily’s forehead. “Don’t think about it, Emily,” he murmured. “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you every hour.”
The concussion. He was right. And she was so very tired. But waking her so often meant he wouldn’t get any sleep.
“We should skip Caruthers and go straight to the Alabama State Bureau of Investigations,” she suggested. “Or maybe the FBI.” There was no way to know who they could trust at this point.
