Page 37 of Slow Burn
Cole let her go this time, the wrapped sandwiches still tucked under his arm, the weight of Kiki’s words settling over him like smoke that wouldn’t clear.
fifteen
“It is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.” - Jorge Luis Borges
The heat of Cole’s gaze chased her to her car, but it was Kiki Womack’s words that rolled over and over in her mind. Because the woman had hit the right buttons for both of them. It might’ve been twenty years, but Jocelyn rememberedherjust fine.
Kiki was one of the girls who’d had it out for her mama from grade school, and when Bonnie had made her way back to town with her illegitimate child in tow, Kiki and her friends had made it their mission to snub her whenever possible. It didn’t help that they’d been cozy with Lydia Abbott by that time, either.
Jocelyn could’ve dismissed everything she said, the words nothin’ more than a sliver of truth edged with mean. But it was the stuff about Cole that had her circling. The things about John—said mostly to get Cole’s back up—reminded her of the disappointment she’d felt about whatever secret he’d been keeping.
She hadn’t dug into that yet. Not when the memory of Cole’s anger that night still rolled fresh in her mind. He was worried about reputations getting ruined. Maybe he was worried about hers, but it felt a little like he wanted to save his own.
There wasn’t anything wrong with that. At least, there shouldn’t have been. But it made a painful little twist in her heart anyway.
And that almost made her stumble, but she didn’t stop. Not until she spotted the folded up piece of paper tucked under her windshield wiper.
Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag as she stared at it, and then she let her feet carry her the last few steps to the vehicle. Her hand was like a foreign object before her as she reached for the piece of paper, the knowing that this wouldn’t be a ticket for a traffic violation settling heavily in her chest. It wasn’t official-looking enough for that.
She snatched it from under the wiper, the thick card stock abrasive against her skin, and flipped it open.
Her head snapped up, and she scanned the street for anyone acting suspicious. Not that the person who’d written it would hang around to see her reaction—or if they did, they certainly wouldn’t be visible.
Still, she couldn’t help willing herself to see through walls and into shadows. A better superpower would’ve been to read fingerprints.
After stuffing the note into her purse and searching the area one more time, she got into her car and drove, flying along thewinding hills and tunnels of trees until there was nothing but open hills dotted with livestock and thick stands of trees.
Her next step wasn’t clear yet, and she was too worked up to think anyway. Sure, Ned Turner had climbed up her list, but she didn’t have a clue of where to find him. Probably should’ve asked Cole, but they’d been distracted.
Kiki Womack.
Jocelyn cursed and looked at her purse where she’d tucked the note away. It only took a second for her to consider and then dismiss the possibility of Kiki being the culprit for the note. It was certainly a sentiment that matched the attitude, though part of her felt Kiki was punishing Cole more than herself with her words.
Besides, Kiki had looked like she’d come from a store when she’d run into them. A woman that intent on getting someone’s back up wouldn’t try to do it anonymously. She wanted them to see exactly who was spitting the mean.
And did it really matter who had left it? Plenty of people didn’t like what she was doing. She was tired of giving a damn.
Justice and the truth were her aim.
So, next steps.
She couldn’t explain what had led her where she found herself, but, heavens, the Abbott mansion was a sight to behold. Surrounded by sweeping hills and still carpeted in green despite it being officially autumn, the house rose majestically. Trees stretched their limbs lazily toward the house like they were holding it back rather than protecting it.
She didn’t cross the property line. She simply slowed to stare at the sweeping porch that shaded the antebellum edifice as she drove past on her way back toward town. It had once been a plantation house, the center of a vast network of fields worked by hands that were claimed as property. The Abbotts didn’t denytheir history, but they made a point of serving Cedar Hollow from on high like it was their penance.
She supposed it was her history, too, on some level.
Just looking at it made it clear her heart wasn’t quite ready to face her father. Jocelyn had hardly spoken to him even before her mama’s death, and she wasn’t quite sure what her approach would be now. It certainly wouldn’t be to change their previously established dynamic of practical strangers.
She wanted to pretend it was just happenstance because she needed to blow off steam, but it was more than that. Some part of her had known she’d end up there, driving past the Abbott mansion like some sort of punishment.
Her mama had rarely taken her by, no doubt avoiding the reminder of the life she might’ve had if fate had twisted differently. If the family on the hill hadn’t turned their noses up at the girl from the wrong side of town and pushed their son into a more respectable direction.
They’d all paid the price for that, though her mama’s had been the most costly.
Yes, some questions were better left unanswered, but it didn’t mean she would stop searching for the ones she needed.
And so she headed back to town. Her goal before she’d asked Sally about Ned Turner had been to search the newspaper archives for their reports both on her mother’s fire and the suspected arson cases from that same time frame.
