I'll Be There Part 6

"It's either me or the next set of marshals. Your luck with them, up to now, hasn't been so good."

"Right, so why would my luck be any better with you? No. I won't do it."

He gripped the wheel and said between his teeth, "Has anyone ever told you that you are a frustratingly difficult woman?"

"Yeah. It's just one of the many things that makes me good at what I do."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but the only thing you have to do now is try to stay alive."

The only sound for several minutes was the engine, the tires turning on the pavement and his own breathing. "Jenny, think about what I'm suggesting. You could be safe for the first time in weeks."

"What if they need me to appear at trial and I can't get out to testify? And if they did find us, what would we do? No one could get there quickly enough to help us."

He almost laughed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had the urge to laugh. "Do you ever ask just one question at a time?"

"Only if I like you," she fired back.

Cord was glad she couldn't see him smile. He was sure it was so rusty it creaked audibly. "They won't find us, and I can get out if I want to. It's just that usually, I don't want to."

"That's why this makes no sense. Why do you care what happens to me?"

He thought for a minute before he said, "It's the right thing to do."

"Lord, do they breed that in to southern men or what?"

It sounded like she was talking to herself.

"Look, I know this is hard-"

"You have no idea. Try not having control of your own destiny for even five minutes."

"You've put your trust in a lot of people who didn't deserve it, but I'll see that you're taken care of now."

She laughed. She was actually laughing? "What's so funny?"

"I can't remember a day in my life that I needed *taking care of'. I'm the one that takes care of everyone, including myself." She paused, then added, "This is absurd. How can this be my life? I've been reduced to someone with absolutely no control over her own fate and as a bonus, I can't trust anyone either."

Her words had gone all soft so that he could hardly make out the last words over the hum of the engine. He looked in the rearview. She had her hands on both sides of her head and her eyes were closed.

"You can trust me," he whispered. No matter how that promise might be tested, he knew he'd do whatever it took to keep her safe. This time would be different.

Chapter 5.

"Come in folks, come in," Dixie invited.

Snow blew Clara and a familiar-looking stranger into the deserted diner.

"This snowstorm's coming on stronger than a buck in a herd of does in heat! Have a seat here at the counter."

"Dixie, this is Jenny Thompson's sister, Frances," Clara said.

The young brunette who looked so much like her sister came forward, hand extended. "Frannie, please. You must be Dixie. My sister spoke fondly of you."

Dixie so hated promoting this lie, but knew that it was best for everyone concerned. "Frannie." She took the young woman's hand in both of hers. "Of course, we met briefly at the memorial service, but I'm sure you met so many people that day..."

"I do remember the food you provided looked wonderful."

Dixie nodded. "Jenny spoke of you so often, I feel like I already know you. I'm so sorry for your loss," she added, and she was truly sorry. Regardless of whether or not Jenny was actually dead, she was gone forever to her sister and everyone who loved her.

"Thank you."

"Let me get you some coffee," Dixie suggested, setting thick white mugs in front of the two women. "With this snowstorm rolling in so fast, I was just bagging up the special thinking that folks might want to take something with them on their way home. As you can see, my lunch crowd has fled. I've got stew and cornbread m.u.f.fins."

"Sounds good," Frannie said.

"How about you, Clara?"

"Your stew always. .h.i.ts the spot. Thanks, Dixie."

"You're a dear, Clara. Coming right up."

Dixie poured the coffee, then turned to dish up two bowls of soup from a crock pot. She placed cornbread m.u.f.fins on a plate and put it all on the counter in front of Frannie and Clara.

"I hope you don't mind, but the sheriff asked me to wait here for him. He had some business to take care of before he could speak with me about my sister's... um, her-"

"Accident," Dixie supplied.

"Is that what folks around here are calling it?" Frannie asked.

"Well, folks around here haven't said much at all since the memorial service, like we're all supposed to go on like nothing happened."

Fuzz Rhoton sidled up to the bar and leaned in. "If you ask me, I don't think it was an accident at all."

Dixie c.o.c.ked a hand on her hip. "Well, h.e.l.lo Fuzz. I didn't see you come in."

Fuzz thumbed in the direction of Henry Harris who was just joining them at the lunch counter. "Sheriff asked me to find the Constable, and I figured he'd be here having lunch."

"Wouldn't miss it," Henry chimed in.

"Not since I took over the diner from my folks has he missed a meal, not unless he's in bed sick, and then he calls for delivery."

Henry chuckled, but Fuzz steered the conversation back by saying, "I didn't mean to interrupt, but if you don't mind me sayin', none of the facts of what happened to your sister adds up."

Frannie said nothing, so deciding to play along so as not to arouse suspicion, Dixie said, "I'm sure it's nothing folks haven't been thinking for months."

"I don't think it's a good idea to speculate," Clara interjected, looking very uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken.

Dixie laughed. "Since when did you know me to not speculate? I mean, this whole thing shouts conspiracy theory, and you know I love a good conspiracy theory."

"Hold on there, Dixie. Did I hear you right? Did you say *conspiracy theory'?"

"Fuzz, it's like you said, and you know as well as anybody things don't add up in all of this since you were helping out the sheriff's department when all of that mess of break-ins and reckless driving incidents were going on last fall. Who ever heard of a gas line explosion that only takes out one office in a line of buildings that are all connected?"

Frannie sat listening carefully, eyes wide.

"I'd say I'm not qualified to make such an a.s.sessment," Fuzz said, "but I can tell you that a number of agencies from local law enforcement a.s.sessed the damage at the newspaper, and we have to believe that what they said was accurate."

"Mm-hmm. What I'm saying is that I have a brain in my head, and I'm capable of drawing my own conclusions. It makes no sense. Just like we know that Marilyn Monroe didn't kill herself. You know that Frank Sinatra had her killed because she knew too much about his connections to the mob. And you further know that Prince Phillip had Princess Diana killed because, Lord knows, you can't have the future king of England being raised by a Muslim. Drunk driver, my hind leg. Plus they hated Princess Di. She was gorgeous and they all look like horses. And for the love of Kenny Chesney, if you are the Queen of England, can you not buy a cute purse? She has been carrying the same hideous bag for the past forty years-"

Fuzz held up his hand, halting the steady stream of words. "Could we bring this back to the explosion at the newspaper?"

"Oh, sorry. I do get carried away."

"You know, it was right after Candi Heart moved to town that a string of crimes was committed. I never seen anything like it around here."

"Really?" Frannie said.

Since he brought it up, Dixie nodded, leaning a hip against the counter. "Candi came to town and within a month, there was a reckless driving incident where Candi and the sheriff were nearly killed, and Candi's shop was broken into twice before she even had her grand opening."

"And I heard that some hateful things were spray painted on the walls of her shop," Fuzz added.

"Were these crimes investigated?" Frannie asked.

"Of course," Clara said.

"And were any arrests made?"

"That's the thing," Fuzz said, "no arrests were ever made."

"The investigation is ongoing," Clara corrected.

"That's why I'm here," Frannie said. "To find out what has happened since-since the explosion."

"If you ask me, I believe there's a connection to all that happened with Candi Heart last fall and the explosion that killed Jenny Thompson," Fuzz said.

"No one asked you, Fuzz," Clara said, giving the man a pointed look.

"Have there been any more incidents of crime in town since the explosion?"

"No," Dixie replied. "Like I said, things have been real quiet around here."

"Strange if you ask me. Seems like they got the one they wanted to keep quiet and left," Fuzz said.

"Again, no one asked you, Fuzz," Clara pointed out.

"Anyway, we all miss Jenny very much, and we are so, so sorry for your loss. I hope we haven't upset you with our crazy talk. The bottom line is that your sister was an amazing woman. She made a positive impact on this town, and she was a role model for the young girls around here." She took Frannie's hand. "I miss her more than I can say."

A mist of tears filled Dixie's eyes. She pulled a napkin out of one of the holders on the counter and dabbed at the moistness. Frannie leaned over and squeezed her arm. The two women looked at each other, Frannie's eyes so much like her sister's, and an instant bond formed between the two.

"Anyway, if I can be of any help to you while you're in town, please don't hesitate to come to me. Given the fact that I run the only diner in town, pretty much all of Angel Ridge comes through here. I know something about just about everyone and everything."

"That's the truth," Fuzz commented.

"Fuzz, in this kind of weather, don't you have trucks to pull out of ditches with that wrecker of yours?"

"Yes," the Constable said. "I should be getting to the Sheriff's Office."

Fuzz, looking disgruntled, pulled on his ball cap and both men sauntered out of the diner.

"Where will you be staying?" Dixie asked. Frannie had quieted and had a pensive expression on her face as she picked at her food.

"I suppose I'll stay at Jenny's house."

Dixie nodded. "You'll be packing up her things and selling the place, then?"

"I'm not sure. I had thought of keeping it."

"Are you sure about that, hon?" Dixie asked. "If people were out to do your sister harm, then they might be willing to extend their ill-will to you."

"Or it could have been an accident like the police report said-a problem with the gas line that caused an explosion," Clara pointed out.

Frannie looked back at Dixie. "Yes, I have to agree. I'm just not sure I subscribe to your theories."

The two women exchanged a look that conveyed more meaning than words could. Both knew that the whole truth of this matter had not come out, and for Jenny's protection and theirs, just like in most conspiracy theories, they likely never would.

Moments after Cord slid into the shopping center parking lot, the pa.s.senger side door to the Jeep opened and Grady Wallace got in along with a heavy swirl of snowflakes. Outside the car's windows, it was a complete white-out.

"I don't know what Plan A was, Goins, but you better skip to Plan B." He turned and looked into the back and said, "Jenny, are you back there somewhere?"

She pushed back the hood of her sweatshirt and said with a smile, "Sheriff, nice of you to join us."

To Cord, he said, "I would have been here sooner, but I thought it prudent to come in an unmarked car. So, I had to stop by my house first." He looked back at Jenny. "I don't mean to sound unkind, but you don't look well, Jenny."

She pulled the hood back up. "I suppose I'm as well as could be expected. Who knew when I exposed one of the oldest crime rings in the south, I'd be the one running for my life like some fugitive. How's that for irony?"

"It'll be over soon."

"I've been hearing that for awhile now."

"Could we skip the chitchat? Time's a luxury we don't have at the moment," Cord said.