Page 130 of The Last Close Call

Sage Springs looked eerily familiar.

Joy cruised through downtown, scanning the storefronts as she passed the Cotton Gin, Hal’s Hardware, the Dreamy Creamery. The High Noon Saloon occupied the corner, a pair of six-shooters painted above the door. They were still going with the western theme here, apparently, which attracted tourists. But the county had fallen on hard times in recent years, and whatever tourist dollars they were getting weren’t enough to counter the effects of depleted gas wells and thirsty cattle.

Joy rolled to a stop at an intersection and eyed the Dairy Queen, where a group of teenagers gathered around picnic tables. Despite the temperature, the girls wore crop tops and razor-torn jeans, and they tossed their hair and flirted with a Jeep full of boys in the drive-through line.

Joy checked the time. It was only one o’clock, and they should have been in school still. Was off-campus lunch a thing now? Back when Joy was in school, the football coach would have been out here in his pickup yelling at his players to get their asses back to class or they’d be running laps.

The light turned green. Joy drove several blocks farther and hooked a left at the library. Tucked behind it was a brick church surround by towering pecan trees. Joy turned into the parking lot. It was practically empty, but she pulled into a space right beside the long white van used for work camps and field trips.

Joy glanced around. The air was crisp, the sky blue. The weather was cooperating today, and if she could stand the chill, she wasn’t going to need to put the top on her convertible anytime soon. Joy smoothed her ponytail, which had kept her hair from turning into a giant tangle on the way here. She adjusted the rearview mirror and took her time putting on lipstick before collecting her Louis Vuitton bag off the seat.

She got out and looked around, taking in the quiet neighborhood as she zipped her suede jacket. Then she strode up the sidewalk and entered the office.

The smell hit her immediately. Musty hymnals and stale coffee. Joy squared her shoulders and stepped up to the counter.

“Good morning.” She smiled down at the owl-eyed receptionist, whose window looked out at the parking lot and Joy’s shiny black Mercedes.

“May I help you?”

“I’m Joy Kendall, and I have an appointment with the reverend.”

The woman blinked up at her. Then her gaze dropped to the datebook in front of her. She flipped it open, and Joy tried to read the handwritten notes.

“Uh... an appointment this afternoon? I don’t see anything here.”

“We spoke on the phone.” Joy lifted an eyebrow. “Perhaps he forgot to mention it?”

“Well... he’s out of the office just now.” She cleared her throat and looked up with a nervous smile. “Is it possible you’re mistaken about the time?”

“Nope. One o’clock.” She checked her Rolex. “He told me he was available. And what is your name?”

She tore her eyes away from the diamond bezel on Joy’s watch. “Uh... I’m Leanne. I keep all of his appointments, so—”

“Well, sounds like there’s been a mix-up. Do you have some paper?” Joy nodded at the spiral message pad beside the old-fashioned desk phone. “I’ll leave a message for him, and maybe we can reschedule.”

“Uh, certainly. That’s fine.” She handed up the notepad.

“Thank you.” Joy dug a pen from her purse and wrote her name in flowing cursive, followed by her cell number. “Tell you what, my battery is low. I’ll also leave the phone number of where I’m staying, too, just in case.” She smiled at Leanne, who was still transfixed by the watch. “He can give me a call when he gets in. Do you expect him soon?”

“I don’t know.”

“No? Well, that’s fine.” Joy finished writing the message and handed back the pad. “Thank you for your help, Leanne.”

“Of course.”

Joy left the office and braced herself against the chill as she strode back to her car. She slid behind the wheel and spent a few moments lingering and scrolling through her phone before backing out and exiting the lot.

One stop down, two to go.

Cold wind whipped around her head as she picked up Main Street again and retraced her route. She passed the cemetery on the outskirts of town and hung a left onto Wood Hollow Trace. If memory served, it was a twenty-minute drive along a windy two-lane road that hugged the river and then intersected a highway.

When she reached the juncture, she checked the map on her phone just to make sure. She’d never actually driven this herself. Or paid much attention.

She hung a left onto the highway and drove another ten minutes until she reached the turnoff.

ANGELHEART RANCH 2 MILES.

Joy took the turn. She scanned the barbed wire fence on either side, taking in the familiar pastures and trees. Eight summers she’d come here, but the grass had been green, not yellow, under the bright July sun.

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