Of a woman.
Who didn’t know what was in store for her. Didn’t realize that she would soon meet her maker.
Judgment Day was coming for her.
And coming fast.
Chapter 8
“You can have the dog,” Janelle McGowan told Nikki as they stood at the edge of the fence surrounding Billy Huber’s house and yard. It was afternoon and hot, mosquitos and flies buzzing over early-blooming weeds and wildflowers. Nearby, on the sparse gravel lane, a huge RV was idling.
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah. Just pay the damned vet bill.” Janelle, a large woman in a tank top and shorts, surveyed the property, staring out at the piles of junk. “Either you take him or I put him in a shelter or whatever. I said as much to the vet—Dr. Whatever.”
“Vasquez.”
“Sounds right.” Frowning, sweat running down her temples, Janelle added, “And that goes for anything else you want.” She gestured to the yard. “Dear Lord Jesus, how am I supposed to get rid of all the junk so I can sell the place?”
It was a rhetorical question, Nikki knew, and one for which she had no answer.
“I suppose I could light a match to the house and call it good. Maybe the old coot had fire insurance on the place.”
The old coot being Billy Huber.
Janelle shook her head, sunlight catching in the strands of blondvisible in her short, brown hair. “Just kidding, but, holy shit, what a mess.” Turning toward the idling motor home, she yelled, “Al!”
When there was no response, she muttered something under her breath, then shouted more loudly. “Al!” A beat, then, “Albert, come out here!” She stomped her sandaled foot in frustration and kicked up a puff of dust.
A big man came lumbering down the two steps of the motor home. “Hold your horses,” he drawled as he crammed a Stetson onto his balding head. A plaid, western-cut shirt was stretched over his belly, pearly snaps barely holding the fabric together. “What’s the matter?”
“I’ll tell you what’s the matter! Do you see this?” She swept a meaty arm expansively to indicate all of the Huber property. “Do you? It’s a mess, that’s what it is! And now I’ve got to do something about it? Oh, good Lord! By the way, this is—Mickey Gillette. She’s with the press.”
“Nikki. Nicole,” Nikki corrected as the big man tipped his hat.
“Okay.Nikki. But, Al, what the hell am I gonna do with all this junk?”
“You don’t gotta do anything, not today,” he said and slung a long arm around her shoulders.
“Except talk to the cops. Goddamn, if someone else hadn’t done it, I swear, I woulda killed Billy myself, if I’d seen how bad this all was.”
Not exactly the grieving daughter.
As if she had read Nikki’s mind, Janelle clarified, “Look, Billy … he wasn’t my dad, okay? I mean he was. Biologically. But—” She made a face. “Between you and me, he wasn’t much of a father. Ever. I don’t think Mom ever really loved him. I should’ve done a DNA test to find out if there was any blood connection because I sure didn’t have anything in common with him, but, hey, it’s too late now, and I get to go down to the morgue and ID his body, make it official, you know. As if I didn’t have anything better to do.”
“Do you know anyone who would want to see your father dead?”
Janelle looked at her as if she were an idiot. “Didn’t you hear a word I said? He was a loser. A snake in the grass—knee high in this case,” she said as she gazed at the weed-choked pasture. “He was someone who would steal from a blind guy. So, yeah, I think anyone he met might want to kill him.”
“Anyone in particular?”
She dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “He didn’t get along with people in general. Not his family. Not his bosses, when he had them, not his neighbors, not anyone.”
“What about friends?”
“Did he have any?” Her face was blank. “None that I know of.” She glanced at her watch. “Look, I’ve got to get on the road. As I said, I’ve got a dead body to identify, and then there’s a lawyer in Savannah and …” Her shoulders slumped, and she sighed loudly. “I don’t need this.”
“We’ll get through it,” Al said, and again squeezed her shoulders. “One day at a time, and well, you got the property.”
