Page 43 of Family Jewels

“Are you sure?” I asked, moving over to the sink. “From what his momma said, he might be mixed up with Crocker’s guys . . .” My voice trailed off when I saw the disappointment in her eyes. She knew if Crocker’s men were involved, I would call the investigation off. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow when we have more details. You go take your bath before I change my mind and make you help scrub that skillet.”

“I told you to use the nonstick spray,” she said in a slightly sassy tone.

“Yeah, well, if you keep saying I told you so, I’ll make you clean it all by yourself.”

She lifted her hands in surrender and grinned as she took a step toward the door. “You win.”

I beamed in my momentary triumph.

Placing her hand on the door frame, she turned serious. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Rose.” That fear was back in her eyes, and it broke my heart.

“If you think you can get rid of me, you’ve got another think comin’,” I said.

“Other people said they’d stay too,” she said. Tears flooded her eyes.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. We’d both had more than our fair share of people leave us. “Well, it’s a good thing we’re not like other people then.” I turned back to the sink and turned on the hot water. “Now go, or I reallywillmake you wash these dishes.”

“I love you, Rose.”

I took a breath and turned to face her, but she was already gone.

I opened another beer—my second of the night—and spent the next ten minutes washing dishes and wishing I’d used that five hundred dollars from Raddy Dyer to buy a dishwasher. My farmhouse hadn’t been lived in for nearly twenty-five years by the time I moved in, although my Uncle Earl had kept it up with yearly cleanings and occasional servicing for the appliances. The house and land had been in the family since at least the turn of the twentieth century. I wasn’t sure who exactly had owned it before my birth mother and her grandparents. But one thing was certain: no one had bothered to install a dishwasher.

Muffy danced around my feet, and I glanced down at her as I put the last serving bowl in the cabinet. “You want to go outside again, girl? I guess Neely Kate didn’t give you enough time out there.” I grabbed the dishtowel and dried off my hands, then tossed it onto the counter. “Okay, let’s go.”

I opened the back door, and she took off like a lightning bolt toward the barn. My gut clenched. She didn’t usually head in that direction.

My purse was sitting on the kitchen table, and I pulled out the gun and turned off the safety. I was sure I was being ridiculous—I suspected there was a poor raccoon hiding out in the barn, just like the story I’d told Neely Kate. Part of me wondered if I should call Joe, but he was busy with poor Rayna Dyer, and what was I going to say? That Muffy had run off to the barn? It wasn’t exactly 911 material, but my gut told me something wasn’t right. I wasn’t about to let Muffy run into danger without trying to protect her. She’d protected me more times than I could count.

I considered asking Neely Kate to come, but the sound of the water in the pipes overhead came on, which meant her bathwater had gotten cold and she was warming it up.

Muffy was already in the barn when I walked out the back door. Part of me wanted to call out her name, but if there was someone in my barn, I didn’t want them to know I was on my way in. I needed all the help I could get—and that meant preserving the element of surprise.

Still, I didn’t waste any time making my way to the barn. After a rainy spring, a piece of rotten wood had broken off at the bottom of the double door in the front, which was how Muffy had gotten in. She was small enough to wedge herself through the hole, which was about a foot in diameter. I was creeping around the side of the barn, making my way to the back door, when I heard the low sounds of two men’s voices.

My heart leapt into my throat, and I reached into my pocket to pull out my phone and call the sheriff’s office. Only, I hadn’t brought my phone. I must have left it in the kitchen.

I stood next to the barn, my heart racing as I struggled over what to do. Then Muffy released a low growl, and one of men barked, “Be quiet.” There was a male grunt, and my little dog let out a squeal and began to whimper.

There was no question now. I was going in.

Chapter 10

Iedgedaround the back corner of the barn and noticed that the back door was standing open. Muffy let out a yelp, and then I heard several loud grunts. Part of me wanted to just run in there and save my dog, but I needed to try to be safe about this. Before last February, I would have gone in without giving it a second thought, but I’d become more cautious. I’d seen people murdered in front of me. I’d lost Mason. The night of J.R. Simmons’ death had changed me, but standing there now, I wasn’t sure it had been for the better. I felt more like the woman I’d been a year ago instead of the fierce woman I’d become last winter.

Pushing those thoughts out of my mind, I placed my back against the wall. I kept my elbows pinned to my sides as I held the gun with both hands and pointed it toward the sky. I was still working out a strategy, but Muffy’s crying sent a spike of anger through my body, burning off any residual fear.

I leaned around the open doorway, pointing my gun into the space that was only slightly illuminated by a kerosene lantern. Two men were in a heap, or rather one man was in a heap, and the other was delivering a sharp blow to the man’s side with his boot. The man who was standing had his back to me. I cast a quick glance toward the corner and saw Muffy hunkered down on the floor, whimpering.

“Both of you stop right there and lift your hands into the air before I shoot you,” I called out in a loud voice, holding my gun on them.

The man who was standing slowly lifted his hands and started to turn as the other guy continued to cover his head with his hands and release pained whimpers.

“Rose,” the standing man said as he turned toward me. I recognized his voice, his shape,himbefore he showed his face. “Don’t shoot.”

“James?” I gasped, lowering the gun to point at the man on the ground. “What are you doing out here?”

Anger flashed in his eyes. “Taking care of this trash.”

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