I nod in understanding, losing the will to argue with him when I see the look of conviction in his eyes and hear the truth in his words when he talks about being helpless with Emma Jo for so long. I’ve only spent a few days with Emma Jo after finding out what Jed did to her, and I’ve wanted to scream and cry and bang my head against the wall with all the guilt I’ve been feeling and what-ifs I’ve been asking myself. I can’t imagine how I would feel right now if I’d kept in touch with her all these years and knew what was going on, but couldn’t stop it. I don’t want to think about how horrible Leo must have felt, being the sheriff of Bald Knob, sworn to protect everyone in this town and not being able to do a damn thing to save one of his friends.
Suddenly, the idea that I made out with a maybe-murderer last night doesn’t seem like a bad thing at all. And not just because it would let me and Emma Jo off the hook, but because I’ve tasted a small bite of that anger and frustration and it only took a few hours for me to start plotting Jed’s death, threaten to choke him with his own balls and then bake him a poisoned blueberry pie.
For twelve years Leo has stood on the sidelines feeling like this every single time he got a tip that Emma Jo was in the hospital, or ran into her on the street in her dark sunglasses and caked on make-up, or listened to her give some sort of excuse about the bruises on her arms or the split in her lip. I suddenly don’t care if he turned up the charm to stop me from asking any questions. I don’t care if he kissed me so I’d forget about being pissed at him for acting like he was Jed’s pal and shooting the shit with him over beers after he’d assaulted me. The only thing I care about now is making sure Leo and I are on the same page: No matter what happened that night, we will make sure Emma Jo stays as far away from accusations as possible and can finally have the happy, peaceful life she’s always deserved.
“Stop. You don’t have to say anything else,” I whisper, moving quickly to stand in front of him, placing my hand over top of his to stop him from nervously rubbing the battered skin of his knuckles. “I don’t care what you did with Jed when you left here, and I don’t care what happened later that night. No matter what happens, I just want Emma Jo safe and left completely out of this. I promise I won’t say anything to anyone.”
He finally lifts his head to look at me, shaking it slowly with a low chuckle.
“And you honestly thought it wasn’t possible for me to have a thing for you after all this time?” he asks softly, sliding his hands around my waist to rest against my lower back, pulling me closer until I can smell him again and feel the heat from. “This is why, Payton. Because you put your life on hold to fly home and help out a friend you hadn’t seen since high school after one phone call. Because you’d do anything to protect her, including let this town rip you to shreds. Because you were always nice to me in school and stuck up for me when most of the guys thought it would be fun to pick on the dorky FFA kid who knew too much about cows. But mostly, because you didn’t hesitate to offer your help to me, too. The nerdy guy from high school who followed you around like a pathetic puppy dog, just trying to get a whiff of your hair or a smile in my direction, and who acted like a nerd all over again when I let it slip that I haven’t been able to get you off my mind for twelve years, no matter how hard I tried.”
I swallow over the lump in my throat and silently tell my ovaries to stop blowing noise makers and throwing confetti.
“I know you don’t believe it, Payton, but there hasn’t been one day that’s gone by that I haven’t thought about you since you moved to Chicago. I joined the police force because I wanted to be bigger and better and not so much of a loser if you ever came back to town,” he admits, clenching the material of my shirt at my lower back into his fists as he pulls me closer until my chest is pressed against his. “I know it’s crazy, and I know it probably scares the shit out of you, but I have been dreaming about you and what I would say to you and what I would do if you ever walked back into my life and I got a second chance to make another impression on you.”
His hands let go of their hold on the back of my shirt and he moves them up between us, cupping my face in his palms and lowering his voice. “I know it’s crazy and I know it’s fast, but honestly, I don’t give a fuck. As soon as I heard you were back in town, I knew it would be the only chance I’d get to make sure you never forgot who I was again,” he admits, running his thumbs back and forth over the skin of my cheeks while he stares into my eyes.
“I’m pretty sure your name is going to be burned into my brain for the rest of my life, don’t worry about that,” I whisper, while my ovaries crank up the volume on their house party and Leo starts moving his face closer to mine. “I’ll totally cover for you, too. Shit, people already think you knocked me up, I can just tell them we spent the night together or something. Boom! There’s your alibi! But just in case, I promise to come visit you in prison if this doesn’t work out. I’ll teach you everything I know about joining a gang and making sure you’re always the guy with the most packs of smokes.”
Leo stops moving when his mouth is a centimeter from mine, quickly pulling back to look down at me in puzzlement.
“Why would you need to cover for me or visit me in prison? You don’t think I killed Jed, do you?” he asks, pulling his face back more so he can get a better look at my own, which probably mirrors his What-in-the-actual-fuck expression.
“I mean, you kind of admitted it, didn’t you? You have those bruises and cuts on your knuckles and you said things got heated between you guys, and then Andrea Maynard told me at The Hungry Bear this morning that Jed had a black eye when you guys found his body, and you got all sweet and mushy when I told you I’d help you. What am I missing here?” I ask.
“You’re missing the fact that I didn’t fucking kill anyone!” Leo shouts, dropping his hands from my face to step back from me and pace in the small hallway. “When I said things got heated, I meant that I followed behind him to the bar just to get him away from here, and then I punched him in the face as soon as we got to the parking lot and got out of our vehicles. And when you said you’d help me, I just thought you meant covering for me about the bruises on my knuckles, but I already signed a statement about what went down that night. Jesus, Payton, you thought I killed him?”
Oh, shit.
“Um, just kidding?” I reply in a weak, tiny voice.
“Here I’ve been thinking you were avoiding me all day because you had something to do with Jed’s death, especially after how fucking insane you and Emma Jo were acting last night. And instead, you just sat around assuming I’m the one who killed him!” he complains, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration.
“Hey! We don’t act insane, we ARE insane. It’s a gift, and it’s taken a hell of a lot of years to perfect. Also, I didn’t just sit around all day. I spit on a dog, stole some coffee, and started dating Billy Ray. My plate has been entirely too full to avoid you just because I may or may not have thought you killed Jed, thank you very much! And didn’t you just get done reminding me that I haven’t seen you in over a decade and might not know very much about you? Well, how was I supposed to know you weren’t a murderer?!” I argue, leaving out the part about how Emma Jo and I decided to do our own investigation.
“BO JANGLES DID IT IN THE KITCHEN WITH A SHOVEL, MUSKRAT!” Emma Jo suddenly yells from down the hall. “EVERYONE GETS A MUSKRAT WHEN WE SOLVE THE CASE!”
Son of a bitch…
“Please, for the love of God, tell me you two aren’t conducting your own investigation…” Leo trails off, looking up at the ceiling in annoyance while he speaks.
“Fine, I won’t tell you that,” I reply, crossing my arms in front of me and shooting him a sarcastic smile.
He opens his mouth a few times to say something, each time clamping it quickly closed and trying again until his cell phone starts buzzing from his back pocket. He yanks it out, reads the text, and then shoves it back in his jeans without saying a word since I’ve clearly rendered him speechless, before tur
ning and walking to the door.
“I’ll be back. At least promise me you’ll leave Bo Jangles alone while I’m gone,” Leo mutters as he yanks the door open and walks out onto the porch.
“I make no promises! That little asshole is at the top of our suspect list!” I shout to his retreating back before closing the door behind me and locking the deadbolt.
CHAPTER 22
Recorded Interview
June 4, 2016
Bald Knob, KY Police Department
Chrissy Lou Smith: Where is Sheriff Hudson? Why isn’t he doing this interview?
Deputy Lloyd: He’s otherwise detained, ma’am.
Chrissy Lou Smith: He’s shacked up with that murderer, isn’t he?
*Crying, sniffling, nose-blowing*
Deputy Lloyd: Ma’am, I was told you have some information about Jed Jackson’s murder, is that true?
Chrissy Lou Smith: Do you think it’s serious? I mean, do you think they’ll really get married?
Deputy Lloyd: Ma’am, I need you to focus, okay? One of the deputies said you left a message about Mayor Jackson, which is why I called you in here today.
Chrissy Lou Smith: Did you know Payton owes over $150 in library fines? What kind of an animal keeps a copy of The Outsiders for twelve years and never returns it? A murderer, that’s who. You should arrest her.
Deputy Lloyd: Ma’am, I can’t arrest someone because of library fines. Especially when we’re trying to solve a murder.
Chrissy Lou Smith: Stealing books is a crime and no one is doing anything about it! You should arrest her, but make sure it’s tomorrow after five o’clock.
Deputy Lloyd: And why should I wait until after five o’clock?
Chrissy Lou Smith: Because I have a facial peel scheduled at four, and I want to look my best when Sheriff Hudson needs a shoulder to cry on. Do you think I’d look better as a blonde? The sheriff seems to go for blondes these days…
CHAPTER 23
Let’s take a moment and think if I’m a morning person…NO.
—Coffee Mug
“Sweet mother of pearl, how many green bean casseroles does one person need?”
Rubbing my tired eyes with my fists, I stand in the doorway of the kitchen, blinking rapidly and vowing to never drink wine again, especially when I can’t get rid of my hangover with coffee the next morning. I’ve officially started hallucinating and I think I see Bettie standing in front of Emma Jo’s open refrigerator, shaking her head while she lifts the foil covering a baking dish, scrunches up her face in disgust and turns to look at me.
“Jesus, you look like shit. One little murder accusation and you let yourself go.”
My eyes widen in shock when I realize I’m not seeing things and Bettie really is standing in Emma Jo’s kitchen, looking me up and down with a wince.
“I’ve had a rough couple of days, I guess,” I admit with a shrug.
“Don’t worry, Mommy is here and I brought help,” Bettie informs me, lifting her arm and pointing to something on the counter I didn’t notice when I first walked in here.
“Oh, my God! You brought Baby Cecil!” I shout, racing across the room and throwing my arms around the smaller version of the Cecilware Venzia espresso machine that I have in my house. “My baby, I’ve missed you so much. You have no idea how hard it’s been here without you.”
I rub my cheek against the cool metal of the machine and pepper the top with kisses, my eyes filling with tears when I turn away from Baby Cecil and smile at Bettie. A flash of fear covers her face right before I race across the room, throwing myself into her arms. She awkwardly pats me on the back while I cry into her shoulder until she finally has enough and pulls out of my tight hold.
“Alright, you’re creeping me out. We’re not huggers. We’ve never been huggers. What did I miss since our last phone call?” she asks, moving back against the kitchen counter and pulling herself up on top of it while I busy myself making both of us a cup of coffee with the Kona beans Bettie also brought with her.
It’s been…shit, three days since I spoke to Bettie on the phone, and I can’t believe I forgot all about how she never called me back and told me who left her that voice mail. I’ve been a little preoccupied trying to figure out who else in this town could be responsible for murder, aside from me and Emma Jo. I’ve also been a little distracted by Leo, not that I’ve seen him other than from a distance in town while I attempted to get people to talk to me. At least he’s been sending me texts. Mostly just one-word ones like STOP, DON’T, and PAYTON, sent to me each time he saw me in town trying to get people to stop pointing their fingers at me. I mean, what does he expect me to do, sit around and wait for him to solve this case? As if. Not that I don’t think he’s a smart guy and could do it, I just think he’s too smart and I’d much rather find someone else to blame before he gets those stupid autopsy reports back and has to do something about all that pesky gossip floating around about me.
Gossip my mother has kindly kept me up-to-date about since Franny Mendleson is a secretary at the sheriff’s department and Franny Mendleson and my mother play Bridge together every week. I guess according to Bald Knob, you really can’t outrun your past, since everyone in town has been talking non-stop during their interviews about what a horrible teenager I was and how it only makes sense I’d gravitate from underage drinking to first-degree murder.
I ramble all of this to Bettie in one long, run-on sentence, not stopping to take a breath until I get it out and start crying all over again when Baby Cecil spits out the most delicious smelling liquid I’ve ever been in the presence of and I bring the cup up to my lips.
“Alright, seriously, suck it up. All this crying and snotting all over the place is giving me hives. It’s not like you actually killed the guy. Who cares if a few people think you did?” Bettie asks, ripping a paper towel off the roll and handing it to me so I can blow my nose. “And you’ve got a hot piece of man meat who practically professed his undying love to you. I don’t see what the problem is.”
I wipe the tears from my cheeks, moving over to the fridge and opening the door with my cup of coffee hugged tightly to my chest, refusing to ever let it go.
“Wow, we really do have a lot of food in here. People have been bringing it by non-stop for the last couple of days. I could go for some macaroni and cheese, how about you?” I ask Bettie, keeping my back to her and my head shoved in between trays of cold-cuts and pans of mystery casseroles.
“Payton Marie Lambert, what are you not telling me?” Bettie asks, jumping down off the counter and walking over to me to yank me out of the fridge and slam the door closed.
She takes one look at my face and smacks me on the arm. “Holy shit, did you really murder the guy? Damn, bitch! I didn’t think you had it in you!”
“This is not funny,” I argue when she laughs. “Before we get into all of that, how about you tell me what you’re doing here. Oh, my God, what happened to Liquid Crack? Did it catch on fire? Did the health department shut us down? Did the investors find out about what’s going on here in Bald Knob and change their minds about the franchise?”
Bettie grabs my arm and pulls me over to one of the kitchen chairs, shoving me down into it and then pushing the coffee cup back up to my mouth.
“Drink, Payton, drink. Liquid Crack is fine. The news from this bustling metropolis hasn’t yet reached Chicago, you’re fine,” she replies sarcastically. “I left Brad and Amy in charge of the store for a few days. That voicemail the other day was from some guy named Deputy Lloyd and he said he had a few questions to ask me about you. I figured it was best if I flew into town and saved him the trouble of repeatedly calling my phone and me not answering it because I didn’t recognize the number.”
“You left Brad and Amy in charge of my baby? The two potheads who keep trying to convince me that pot coffee is the wave of the future and take three hours to make one cup of coffee?!” I screech.
“Slow your roll, psycho. Do you honestly think I’d leave the shop if I t
hought they couldn’t handle it?” Bettie explains. “They know what they’re doing, it’s fine. Also, I love how you’re more concerned with Liquid Crack than you are about the possibility that you might seriously go to prison for murder.”
“Oh, good, you’re awake!” Emma Jo says as she walks into the room with a tray of cookies in her hand and gives me a smile. “I was going to come up and wake you, but then someone came to the door with more food and I got delayed.”
She sets the cookies down on the table in front of me and Bettie takes a handful before flopping down next to me in a chair.
“This one’s a saint, I tell you,” Bettie announces, pointing at Emma Jo with a cookie. “I’ve been listening to her deal with bullshit condolences since I got here an hour ago. All those people saying how wonderful your husband was and how big of a loss his death is. Give me a break!”
I look back and forth between Bettie and Emma Jo nervously, not quite sure how Emma Jo is going to feel about me spilling the beans about Jed’s abuse to someone she doesn’t know.
“It’s fine,” Emma Jo reassures me, taking the last empty chair on the other side of me. “Bettie and I talked a little bit in between knocks on the door. I like her.”
“You should like me. I’m awesome. So, what are we going to do about Payton beating this murder rap? Has she tried sleeping with the sheriff yet?” Bettie asks, spitting cookie crumbs across the table while she speaks.
“Sadly, no. I’ve tried pushing her in that direction as well, but the last three days they’ve been like two ships, passing in the night,” Emma Jo muses, grabbing a cookie from the tray and taking a bite.