Page 6 of Sinister Secrets

A memory resurfaces of the two of us arm in arm, laughing so hard tears streamed down our faces. Though I can’t recall what had been so funny, there’s no way I could ever forget the little girl who helped make the transition to living with Butch after my parents’ deaths less painful. The one who had quickly become like the sister I never had.

“Lucy?”

She nods. Removes one hand from her son’s back and holds it out to me. I reach forward and take it, her palm as soft and warm as I remember, the connection something I hadn’t realized how much I missed. Putting my other hand on her back. I rub softly until her trembling stills, trying to provide her with the comfort that she had so often given me.

Lucy Cypress came into my life when so much had been taken away. Though she couldn’t replace my parents, or Jake, she taught me not to close myself off from the world. And then I’d gone and done something stupid that made me lose her, too.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her eyes filling with renewed tears.

“You’re welcome, ma’am,” Sheriff Kingston says, hooking his thumbs in his beltloops as he approaches.

She gives him a quick glance before looking away, her face settling into the stoic expression she had worn so often when she was younger. The one that was her shield against the bigotry she faced from the small-minded idiots who treated her poorly for the simple crime of being of Black Seminole descent in a town run by a racist fool.

Unfortunately, that fool is still the one in charge, a fact he seems intent on reminding everyone as he uses a voice that echoes off the barn rafters, saying, “Now I understand that you’re probably anxious to get the boy home, but—”

Lucy nods, releasing my hand. Her face is still expressionless as she struggles to her feet with Jeffery clinging to her. I place a palm against the boy’s back, holding him steady while Jake hurries forward and assists.

Kingston continues, his words like a sonic boom, “—we’ve got some questions we’re going to need to ask first.”

“Later,” she says, turning toward the exit.

“Now,” he demands.

Her milk chocolate eyes have turned black as she meets the sheriff’s gaze. She straightens her spine, claiming every centimeter of her 5’2” frame as she repeats the word. “Later. My son needs a bath. His feet tended to. Some food and sleep. Then you may talk to him.”

“Now, I understand all that,” Kingston says. He moves in front of her, blocking her escape. “But we’re dealing with a murder investigation here.”

Lucy’s eyes flare wide and panicked, the whites showing as they turn to me for confirmation. She gasps as she reads the truth on my face. Jake catches her as her legs buckle. Keeping one arm looped around her back, he slides Jeffery from her hip to his with natural ease, his gaze meeting mine.

Though I’d hoped to be the one to tell Jake what we found, I’d been waiting until a four-year-old wasn’t present to talk about the body. Apparently, the sheriff doesn’t have such qualms.

A silent conversation takes place between us, one that ends with me shooting a pointed look at Lucy and tipping my head toward the exit. Jake gives me a blink of assent, tightening his hold on the woman and her child, preparing to do what it takes to get them out of here. With teamwork, we’ll make it happen. I take a big step between them and Kingston, moving into the man’s personal space so unexpectedly that he stumbles back, clearing the doorway.

“There’s a medic on the way to check Jeffery over,” I say. “Is it okay if I call and ask that they be rerouted to your home?”

Lucy’s face softens as she gives me a nod on her way by, Jake ushering her out of the barn like a hired bodyguard.

“Now wait just a minute—”

The sheriff’s bluster falls on deaf ears as more memories of Lucy come back to me. The grown-over trail her son had used tonight was worn by our feet decades ago. We’d spent hours making forts in the hay. Reading. Baking cookies. Playing endless games of Clue.

For seven years we’d been practically inseparable until her family moved away, and though there had never been any explanation about why they’d left so suddenly, I’d never needed one. I know what I did. Though the fire I’d set had been unintentional, her parents must have deemed me too much of a bad influence to allow our friendship to continue.

Lucy had been there for me when I needed someone the most, offering a quiet acceptance most children wouldn’t have been capable of. In return, I’d uprooted her life. The least I can do is be here for her now. I block the way as Sheriff Kingston tries to sidestep around me. Keep my voice low as I say, “Lyle, he’s four.”

“He’s our only witness.”

“I understand that, but he’s not going to be any help if you further traumatize him. What difference will a day make?”

The answer is, it could make a lot. A day is enough time for details to be forgotten. For a killer to leave the country. For the case to go cold.

He gives me a stony look, the jaw beneath his soft jowls set tight. Finally, he grunts, “Good luck.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what I said. This is your mess. You clean it up.”

Anxiety threads through me as realization dawns. “Are you asking me to help with the investigation?”