When Noonday Ends: A Southern Romantic-Suspense Novel - Nantahala - Book Two Page 15

  Justin giggled and sat next to Tom on the log, while Tom found a place to put the tiny piece of wood.

  “Nice fire,” Shelby said as she approached.

  Justin whipped his head around, jumped off the log, and ran to her. “Mama, I help T.T. fire.”

  “Yes, you did, baby. What a great job you did.” She picked up Justin, flashing a questioning gaze at Tom. “T.T.?”

  Tom stood and walked around the log to where she stood holding Justin. “Yeah, that’s what Samantha and Turner call me. Even though my sister calls me Uncle Tom-Tom.”

  Shelby felt a release of her previous pent-up anxiety melt away at the fact that he and Justin were getting along. “Cute,” she said, releasing a chuckle. “I’ve never seen Justin take to anyone so well. How did you do it?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing. Kids just like me, I guess. Maybe because I’m still a kid.” He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face and kissed her on the cheek. “So, you feel all refreshed now. Relaxed?”

  “I feel great.” She sucked in a deep breath. “This is incredible, Tom. Thank you. Can we stay here forever?”

  He smiled. “I wish.” And then he turned to Justin. “Hey, Jus. You hungry? I made my specialty, chili 3-way.”

  Shelby laughed, narrowing her eyes. “A 3-way?”

  “Get your mind out of the gutter, woman.” He reached for Justin, and to her surprise, her son crawled right into his arms. “My grandma was from Cincinnati,” he continued. “Or, as she always said, ‘Cin-ca-natta’. Anyway, it’s canned chili, but I add all her ingredients to make it like she used to. Then you pour over spaghetti, top with cheese, and voilà!” he made a bursting kiss motion with his fingers from his lips, “you have a chili 3-way, Cincinnati style.”

  She laughed. He always seemed to make her laugh. “It smells incredible. So you cook and speak French?”

  “Non, ma chère, only a few words my good friend Chad taught me to impress the ladies. And spaghetti and canned tuna fish are about the extent of my cooking abilities.” He bounced Justin on his hip and turned toward the house. “Want me to show you how to cook next, Jus?”

  Tom made her head spin with how quickly he could fluster her with sweet nothings and then talk to her child as though they’d been best buds forever. She wasn’t sure which side of him turned her on more.

  “C’mon, Mama. I cook,” Justin said, looking over Tom’s shoulder and holding his tiny hand out to her.

  She squeezed his hand. “Right behind you, baby. And after dinner, I’ll show you how to make s’mores.”

  Tom held the door open for her to enter first. “S’mores? You really were ready to camp.”

  “Yep. Figured if I was gonna be a fugitive, I should do it in style. But I have to admit…this is nice. Though, we’ll need some basics. I’d planned to go shopping before I left.”

  Walking into the kitchen, Tom lowered Justin to the floor, walked to a cabinet, and retrieved a large pot. He filled it with water, then set it on the rear burner, turning the knob on high.

  He turned to look at her and leaned against the counter, crossing those well-built arms of his. “I’ll go to the store first thing in the morning. If I go at the correct time, it’ll be busy enough not to attract attention, but not so busy that there’s a chance someone will recognize me.”

  Mirroring his pose, she crossed her arms and tilted her head. “But what about the truck? Won’t someone recognize it?”

  Obviously noticing what she was doing, he dropped his arms and ambled over to where she was leaning against the counter.

  He uncrossed her arms and laced them around his neck. “That’s why I brought my dirt bike. So you’ll have to be very selective on what you want me to purchase. I can only carry what will fit in my backpack.”

  She couldn’t help but play with the ends of his hair while her hands were up there. He’d obviously taken a shower downstairs since he was no longer glistening with sweat and dirt, and his hair was slightly damp.

  “Oh, that makes sense. I don’t need much. Just staples,” she said.

  Tom leaned in to kiss her, but then obviously remembering Justin, backed away, letting her arms drop to her side. “Okay, fella.” He picked up Justin and walked toward the stove. “The first thing I did was use canned chili. Now, the womenfolk will complain, but we men sometimes don’t have a choice.”

  Shelby watched in awe as Justin grinned, obviously overjoyed at the attention. Her brother and father-in-law were good to him, but Carlin had never shown him any love, definitely never acted like the father figure he needed. It was no wonder he hadn’t asked for Carlin once.

  Tom dipped the spoon in the pot and blew on the little bit he pulled out. “Wanna taste?”

  Justin nodded and Tom checked the temperature to his own lips before letting him sample.

  “Mmm…” Justin smiled at her, and Shelby felt a tear escape. She swiped it away before Tom could see.

  “Needs a little more of the special ingredient,” Tom said. “Shh…” He brought his fingers to his lips. “Don’t tell your Momma what it is, though.”

  Her little boy shook his head and moved so he could hear Tom whisper in his ear.

  Intrigued, Shelby peeped over Tom’s shoulder to see what the secret ingredient was. “Cinnamon? That’s the secret ingredient?” She laughed. “I’ve never heard of putting cinnamon in chili.”

  “Great!” Tom threw up his free hand and Justin followed suit. “Now she knows. We’re going to have to tickle torture your momma to make sure she doesn’t talk.”

  “Yay!” Justin squealed, squirming to get free.

  Tom released him and her son ran toward her.

  “Oh no, the tickle monster,” Shelby squealed, running into the living room and falling animatedly on the square of carpet in the center of the room.

  Justin pounced on top of her, doing his best to tickle her waist, as Andy and he had done a million times. How had Tom known? she wondered.

  “Need help, Jus?”

  Justin giggled in response as Tom went for her feet. “Gotta get women by the feet, Jus. It’s the only way I ever got my sister growing up.”

  Shelby tried to pull back, but the two of them had her. She couldn’t buck too hard or she’d hurt Justin. “Tom Turner, you are so going to get it when I get you. Justin, get T.T. It’s his turn.”

  Her son turned on Tom, squeezing his little hands open and closed. “Hehehe…” he giggled.

  “Uh-oh.” Tom pulled him up in the air before he could tickle him. “Don’t let your momma try to turn you on me, buddy. You’re on my side now, right?” He made an airplane sound as he glided Justin through the air and lowered him to the sofa for a crash landing, filled with sound effects and passenger screams, she assumed.

  “’gan!” Justin squealed in amusement.

  And to her son’s obvious delight, Tom picked him up and made another lap around the living room.

  “I’ll go start the pasta,” Shelby said, smiling. “You little boys play nice.”

  Tom smiled and continued to spin her boy in a circle.

  Shelby walked into the kitchen, not certain how she should feel. She should be crying, scared out of her wits, but all she could think was how wonderful she felt at this moment, hoping that the day would never end.

  If she could just bottle up the last few hours and replay them over and over in her head for eternity, she’d be content. Her baby was happy, she was safe, and someone genuinely seemed to like her for nothing other than her, inside and out.

  This wasn’t an act. Tom had put his reputation, career, maybe even his life on the line for her. Why? Why would he do it?

  As she stirred the sauce, she felt his strong arms circle her waist and warm lips press against her bare shoulder. “You look so good, Shelby. Mmm…and you smell delicious too.”

  She turned in his arms. “Where’s Justin?”

  “He decided the bears were more fun. He ran off to his room.” Tom pressed his lips to hers just long enough for
her to react, and then pulled back, smiling. “I noticed your clothes were upstairs.”

  She moved her hands up the front of his t-shirt and tapped on his chest. “Just because I’m gonna sleep with you, doesn’t mean I’m gonna sleep with you.”

  “Works for me. I told you I’d wait. Hey, the hunt is my favorite part anyway.”

  Shelby pushed him away, or at least she tried, but he tightened his grip. “Is that what I am? Game?”

  “Oh…shh…just give me that pout. You’re so easy to rile up.”

  She shook her head, exasperated.

  “Hey. You’re the one who’s making it a game. I bought you a ring, married you, ran away with you. This isn’t a game, sugar. I want this to be real.”

  As much as Shelby wanted to argue, chills—the good kind—swept through her body.

  Tom ran his hand up her neck. “I gave you goosebumps. Awesome. I do still have it in me.”

  This time she shoved him harder. “You are maddening, Tom Turner.” She rested her hands on her hips and stared at him. “How do I know I’m not just a trophy? Just one of the many women you want to bed? And once you’ve had me, you’ll leave me?”

  He cocked his head, his eyes narrowing. “Seriously, Shelby?” His tone took on an edge she’d never heard as he stepped toward her.

  She instantly stepped backward, but felt the counter behind her.

  Tom put up his hands. “I’m sorry.” He took another tentative step. “You’ve been hurt; I know that. But just so we’re clear on one thing. You never, ever have to run away from me. I will never lay a finger on you. Heck, Chad, my father, even my big sister would kick my butt if I ever hurt a woman.”

  Tears escaped her eyes without warning. She knew this, and yet, she couldn’t help it when his voice had raised an octave. It was reflexive behavior now.

  Tom lifted his hand to her cheek. “Shelby, I love you. Please don’t ever be afraid of me, and please stop assuming I’m playing a game.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Bearns watched as the forensic team, covered head to toe by their jumpsuits, rubber gloves, and booties, immediately cordoned off the area surrounding the grave, etching out a diagram with cross lines to measure.

  Several team members carefully dug the dirt out, dumping it into a box to sift through for any tiny pieces of trace evidence that might slip through human fingers.

  When they reached the remains, they used brushes to sweep away the dirt, careful not to disrupt any trace evidence.

  Jennifer, the youngest-looking member of the team, Bearns guessed her to be in her late twenties, glimpsed up at her partner who took notes, as she spoke, “The clothes are wet. It rained the other night, but I doubt it would have penetrated this deep into the ground. Also make a note that he has a bullet entry through the left lung.”

  The woman continued to brush away more dirt to reveal the man’s face. “White male, dark hair with some gray, late forties or early fifties.”

  A tap on Bearns shoulder had him turning around.

  Milton Williams stood before him. “The dive team found a bullet in the lake, looks like a .38 caliber round. So if ballistics matches our ‘buried dead guy’, he may have been in the water with our supposed-drowned dead guy.”

  “What about the hair they bagged?” Bearns asked. “Is it enough?”

  Williams shrugged. “There’s no tissue attached, so without a blood sample, it’ll be impossible to get an exact DNA. But it’s long and the same color, and considering everything’s in Shelby’s backyard…maybe.”

  Bearns shook his head. “That young woman didn’t do this by herself, though. No way she drowned her ex-husband, shot Roger Hale, and dragged him here and buried him.”

  “No doubt. But if Meare can get her to talk, maybe he can find out who helped.”

  “Where’s Meare? I’d think he’d want to be here.”

  Milton laughed. “Nah. He doesn’t do the rough work. He likes to interrogate. He’s got all he needs. He’s up at the house talking to the Castles, but other than the wife screaming for us to find her grandson, they ain’t talking. Clammed up the moment Meare asked about the body on their property. Clayton was on the phone with his attorney, who ran right over.” Milton smacked Bearns on the back. “Our work is done. Let’s go get a cup of coffee while these guys do their job. Our task was to find Roger Hale, and that’s what we’ve done. Case closed.”

  Bearns flashed a final look at the team scouring the area and then followed Williams out of the wood.

  And he thought he’d grown cold. The last thing he wanted to do right now was eat or drink with the stench of Hale’s decomposing body filling his nostrils.

  As they neared the house, Bearns saw who must obviously be Mrs. Castle, screaming at Detective Meare. “Why are you bothering us? Shelby stole our grandson even though the judge awarded us custody.”

  “I already explained this, Mrs. Castle…” Meare stood his ground on the front porch. “She’s been gone for what…a half an hour or more now? I already called in an APB, and there are officers looking for them now. If you’d told me earlier, maybe I could have done something.”

  June Castle crossed her arms and glared at Clayton. “Seems my husband didn’t notice they’d left. He was too busy watching your team look for a boat instead of watching the real criminal here.” The woman stormed inside the house, letting the screen door slam behind her.

  Clayton released a breath as he watched his wife walk away, then sank onto the swing.

  Detective Meare turned to the Castles’ attorney, who’d been sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch, sipping a glass of tea as though it were just another spring day. “We’d like the Castles to come in for questioning, Belcher.”

  The attorney lifted his eyes to look at Meare without removing his lips from the glass, continuing to rock in the chair. “Ain’t gonna happen in this lifetime, Detective. Mr. Castle isn’t a twenty-two-year-old girl you can steamroll. We’ll talk when you have real evidence.”

  Outmatched, but refusing to give in, Meare huffed out a breath and shook his head. “There’s a dead guy in their backyard.”

  “Anyone could’ve put him there,” the attorney answered with no inflection. “There’s no fence around the property. When you have something worthy of my time, we’ll talk.”

  Meare tromped down the steps, passing Bearns and Williams.

  Williams chuckled as he watched the homicide detective open his car door. “Young and dumb that man is. And a hothead. He’ll learn one day. He likes to bludgeon his suspects. Watches too much T.V. Well, maybe he’ll learn one day. It’s better to keep your cards hidden, wait until you have your ace, and then go all in.” The older detective stepped into his unmarked car and lowered the window. “Follow me, Bearns. I’m buying, and we’ll discuss a job possibility. I’m too old for this crap.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Tom waited by the campfire as Shelby put Justin to bed.

  The evening had been wonderful, better than he could have ever imagined. Yes, they were on the run, but no one would track them here, and he could stay in the cabin forever and be happy.

  Though, he knew that wasn’t possible. He’d have to hope that between Chad, Cassandra, Bearns—and he was certain his parents and Michelle would be involved in a few days—they’d find the truth.

  Though the evidence continued to mount against Shelby as though she were guilty, her eyes said differently. Although, he still couldn’t be sure she didn’t know what had happened to Carlin.

  The crazed woman in the bar had screamed that she’d seen Shelby at the lake, but the cops hadn’t believed her. Obviously, that was why they’d arrested Shelby in the first place, though. But clearly, Mike Bame knew the testimony of an inebriated woman who’d been having an affair with Carlin wouldn’t have been enough with Belcher on the case.

  The door opened, and he swung around to absorb the sight of his new bride, even if only on paper, as she’d reminded him a hundred times.

  Sh
e’d let her hair loose, but was still in the same sexy top and bottoms. He’d told her he wouldn’t have cared if she’d come to meet him on their first date in sweatpants, and he’d been right. She looked incredible. He patted his knee as she walked toward him.

  She eyed him suspiciously, but then lowered her body onto his lap.

  “Isn’t this exactly where you wanted to be?” he asked, barely containing his smile.

  She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

  He laughed at the fact that she remembered nothing of their first date. “Remind me that if I ever want you to forget something to give you some of your brother’s moonshine.”

  “Oh, God. I know. I’m a terrible drunk.”

  “Not so terrible. You’re a great dancer and kisser when you’re drunk.”

  Her one hand was around his neck, but she brought the other over her face, shielding her eyes. “You must think I’m a lush.”

  Tom pulled her hand away. “Not at all.” He kissed her once and then tilted his head to look at her. “I think you’ve had a very rough week—life—and you were hurting pretty bad at that moment.” He brushed his fingers down the side of her face. “I had no idea that woman was coming to hurt you, Shelby. But rest assured, no one will ever hurt you again while I’m around.”

  She released a long breath. “I believe you.”

  He leaned down, finding her mouth, and she opened up to him. With the warmth between their bodies, they didn’t need a fire. But the way Shelby’s eyes had sparkled when she’d seen it, made him glad he’d made it. Plus, it’d been fun playing and talking with Justin.

  He pulled away after a few seconds and lifted her off his lap. Her face contorted a fraction as though she was confused, but she allowed him to reposition her on the log.

  He moved in front of her and lowered his body so he was at her eye level. “Shelby, I’m sorry you’ve had such a horrible life and that we met under the worst possible conditions, but what I feel is real.” He touched his hand to his chest and inhaled a deep breath. “I love everything about you; even your son is great, and I want to be a father to him. I know we already have the papers, so I guess it’d be silly to ask you to marry me, so…”