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“There you are.” Stella came out of the bathroom, wiping her hands on a paper towel. “I’ve got your money in the office. Come in and sit down. Let’s have a talk.”
Lute followed her down the hallway. She was dressed and made up for business except for her feet, which sported rubber flip-flops and several corn plasters.
Seated behind her desk, she motioned Lute to a chair and lit a cigarette. “So how are things with Slade?” she asked.
“Pretty bad,” Lute said. “All he does is drink and talk about how he’s going to put a bullet through Beau Tyler’s head. I’ve been keeping stuff organized, and the drivers have been hauling their loads. But Slade’s pretty much useless.”
“I see.” Stella blew a smoke ring. “So you’ve been doing Slade’s job.”
“As much as I can.” Lute liked where this exchange seemed to be going. “I can’t legally drive the trucks yet, but I’m studying for the test. I should have my license in the next week or so.”
“Smart thinking.” Stella smiled. “Slade’s no use to us anymore. He’s got to go. And I’ll be needing a good man to take his place.”
Lute’s pulse had broken into a gallop. It was happening, everything he’d wanted. “I figure Slade’s going to jail soon,” he said. “After what he did to his wife, he could be there a spell.”
Stella’s expression hardened. She took a drag on her cigarette and blew another smoke ring. “You’re a smart boy, Lute. Look at the big picture. You know Slade can’t go to trial, and you know why.”
Lute stared through the haze of smoke as her words sank in. Facing prison, Slade would take a plea deal—his freedom in exchange for all he knew about Stella’s operation.
Opening a drawer, Stella took out a sealed white envelope and slid it across the desk. When Lute picked it up, he felt the substantial thickness of what it contained. There was a lot more money here than the five $20 bills she usually paid him. The hair prickled on the back of his neck.
“Prove to me that you can do Slade’s job. Do that, and the job’s yours.” Stella sucked on her cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “As long as you’re here, let me share a little secret. Just between you and me, I know you were sweet on Jess, and I know how much it hurt you when she died.” She tamped the cigarette in a china ashtray before she met Lute’s eyes. “The one who killed her and dumped her body in that bog was Slade.”
By the time Natalie was released from the hospital, she was impatient to get home. When Tori came to pick her up, she almost bolted out the door.
“How’s your head?” Tori asked as she drove out of the parking lot. “I still wish you would stay with me for a few days so I can keep an eye on you.”
“My head’s fine. They could’ve sent me home two days ago.”
“At least you’re looking better.” Tori gave her an appraising glance. “Your bruises are fading fast. A little makeup and nobody will notice them at all.”
“Good.” But Natalie wasn’t concerned about appearance. “Is my house all right?”
“It’s fine. I checked on my way here. I even put some leftover lasagna in the fridge for you to warm up.”
“What would I do without you?” Natalie reached over and squeezed her friend’s shoulder. It felt good to be going home. But home would be a different place now. And she’d be dealing with a mountain of complications—her clinic, the insurance, the money, the divorce . . . Her mood darkened. “I guess I’d better ask what’s happening with Slade,” she said.
“Nobody’s seen him since he had that fight with Beau in the bar. Rumor has it he’s holed up at his trucking company, most likely drinking.”
“I told Beau to stay out of this, but no, he had to go and make everything worse! Why can’t the man leave well enough alone?”
“Beau was worried about you. He wanted to let Slade know you had a protector.”
“Don’t you dare defend him, Tori! Beau was way out of line! Anyway, I don’t need a protector. I’ve got new locks and a restraining order. And I’ll have a gun with me.”
“A gun you don’t know how to shoot. Maybe you ought to get a dog—something big and scary like a rottweiler.”
“Stop worrying, I’ll be fine. And I’ll be too busy to take care of a dog, especially while I’m getting the clinic operational again. That’s going to be a big job . . . and expensive. I just hope I can get enough house calls in the interim to pay for it.”
Tori didn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on the road. Was something going on?
They made small talk, mostly about Erin, until they drove into town. Natalie could feel her tension rising as they pulled up to the house. From the outside, everything looked fine, almost normal except that the lawn needed mowing.
“You’ll need new keys for the locks.” Tori fished in her purse as they climbed out of the car. “Here you go. The square one’s for the front door. There are spares inside.”
Natalie found the key on the ring Tori had given her. Her hand trembled as she thrust it into the dead bolt. How many times had she come home to this house wondering which version of Slade would be waiting for her inside—the sociable, good-humored man she’d married or the demanding, suspicious tyrant who’d follow her from room to room, railing at her and criticizing every move she made?
Now the house would be empty. But the memories would rush at her every time she opened the door. It would be a long time before she felt safe here.
