Chapter 2
Chapter Two
T he event kicked into full gear, and to my surprise, I kept busy bringing out fresh bins of food for the buffet line. After I’d taken out the last full pan, I stared at the stack of empty ones, my stomach churning. Before the incident , I wouldn’t have thought twice about carrying dirty dishes out to the vans. It had pretty much been my job. But now I was scared of my own shadow.
My frustration began to build. I was giving Tripp Tucker, and those two stupid podcasters, control over my life. I picked up a pan and steeled myself. I was perfectly capable of walking outside alone in the dark. Fear had ruled my life for ten years after Tripp’s first attack. I wasn’t going to give it any more power over me.
Dr. Norton would be so proud.
I opened the back door, propping it open with a brick, and carried the empty pans out to the van. Balancing the pans on my hip, I unlocked the back doors, then climbed in and set the empty dishes on one of the tied-down shelves.
As I climbed out, a woman called out, “Magnolia? Magnolia Steele!”
My feet froze and fear swamped my head.
Stop it. You’re fine.
My pep talk freed my feet, but I still had no desire to speak to a stranger. I was halfway to the door before she got close enough to stop me.
She was young, probably in her early twenties. Her casual outfit, jeans and a T-shirt, indicated she wasn’t part of the corporate dinner, plus she’d come from around the side of the building rather than from inside.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m busy.”
“This will only take a moment,” she said, holding out her hand, palm out, and sounding as sweet as Tilly’s peach cobbler. “I’m Mo Barker. I’ve been trying everything in my power to get in touch with you, so I finally resorted to tracking you down in person.”
I stared at her in disbelief. “In what universe is it a good idea to ambush a trauma victim?”
“Are you a trauma victim, Magnolia?” she asked with raised eyebrows. “Rumor has it you were having an affair with Tripp Tucker, and then it all went horribly wrong.”
My jaw dropped open. I wasn’t even sure how to respond to that.
“Are you shittin’ me?” Colt barked, bounding out the door and heading straight for us. “She was nearly killed by a psychopath, and you’re standing there insinuating that she brought it on herself?”
I turned to face him, surprised at the rage in his eyes. I put my hand on his chest to hold him back. “Colt. Stop. She’s not worth it.”
“You bet your ass she’s not worth it,” he shouted, pointing a finger at her. “You leave Magnolia the fuck alone . You assholes are only stirring up shit!”
If Mo was daunted, she was a master at bluffing.
“Is it true that you, Magnolia, and Tripp Tucker had a threesome?” she asked, holding out a microphone.
How had I not noticed the mic before? She was recording every word.
Colt looked so angry I was sure he was about to have a stroke.
“You conniving bitch ,” he snarled, trying to get past me.
“That doesn’t sound like a denial,” Mo said, her voice lilting with glee.
“Fuck you,” Colt spat out.
A grin spread across Mo’s face. “I thought you were screwing Magnolia.” She didn’t wait for an answer before she asked me, “Is it true that you and Tripp planned your father’s murder together?”
Colt started shouting at her, but I didn’t hear the words. This was too much, all too much. I’d tried to bury my guilt and horror over killing my father, but it wouldn’t go down easily. Or, rather, it wouldn’t stay down. He wasn’t the only one who’d died that night—the final wisps of the man I’d loved as a child, the man I’d thought he was, had dissipated into nothingness. My hand dropped to my side. I didn’t have the energy to fight anymore.
“What in tarnation is goin’ on out here?” Tilly cried out, hustling over to us. She wrapped her arm around my shoulders, nudging Colt to the side and effectively cutting him off. “Maggie Mae, you’re white as a sheet.” Her gaze narrowed on the woman in front of us. “She’s not giving interviews to the press.”
Colt looked like he wanted to physically escort Mo to Timbuktu, but Tilly gave him a warning glare, and he backed down.
“I’m not a reporter,” Mo said, and I was surprised at the respectful tone she used with Tilly. “I’m Mo Barker, one of the hosts of The C-Mark Serial Killer Podcast , and all I want is to give Magnolia the chance to tell her side of the story. There are a lot of rumors floating around.”
And most of them were coming from their show.
Tilly squeezed my arm. “As I already stated, Magnolia’s not givin’ interviews.”
She started to turn me around when Mo pointed her free hand at her. “Hey, you’re Tilly Bartok, aren’t you? You’re the co-owner of Southern Belles Catering.”
Tilly normally would have been beaming with pride, but she didn’t so much as crack a smile. “That’s right.”
“I’d love to talk to you too. To get Lila’s side of the story.”
“I’m not sure why you think I’d know Lila’s side of the story,” Tilly said. “She took what she knows to the grave.”
“Maybe so,” Mo said, “but rumor has it you and Lila were close.”
Tilly steered me toward the back door, pushing Colt in front of her. “We’ve got nothing to say to you, Ms. Barker. You have a good night.”
“I heard you were very close to Lila Steele,” Mo called after us. “Wouldn’t you prefer to tell the world your own version rather than let us speculate on the podcast?”
Tilly paused a beat, then continued inside and slammed the door behind us.
“What were you thinkin’, Magnolia?” she demanded in a harsh tone she’d never once used on me before. “Why would you go out there by yourself?”
I gaped at her in disbelief. “I’m a grown-ass woman, Tilly. I don’t need a babysitter. I don’t have a serial killer after me anymore.”
“No, but you’ve got people like that after you instead! You just froze up out there!” she shouted, which was so unlike her I wasn’t sure how to react.
“Now, Tilly,” Colt drawled, trying to appease her.
“And you!” She pointed her finger at him. “What in the Sam Hill did you think you were doin’? Instead of takin’ care of Maggie, you were makin’ things worse!”
“I was defending her honor!”
“You were givin’ that fool fodder for her stupid radio show.”
“Podcast,” Colt said.
“Same damn difference,” she snapped. Then she cast a glance toward the door to the dining room. Several of the dinner guests were staring at us through the window. Horror filled her eyes and the fight bled out of her. “Magnolia. Go home.”
“But Tilly…” I protested.
Tears filled her eyes. “I’m not mad at ya, girl. I just think it would be better if you went home.”
Colt glanced from me to Tilly. “I’ll take her.”
I shook my head, feeling sick that I was causing trouble for Southern Belles. Business was already hurting because of all the drama, and now I was bringing even more. “No, you stay. Tilly needs you.”
“How’re you gonna get home?” he asked.
“I’ll call Belinda. I should have taken your suggestion before.”
“Maggie…” he protested, but I gave him a quick kiss.
“You need to stay here and help Tilly. I’ll see you at the apartment.”
“Maggie. I’d rather take you home. I’ll come back.”
“No,” I said, “I need to do this on my own, Colt. I need to stop feeling like I’m being babysat twenty-four seven.”
“But you don’t have a car. We rode together in the van.”
“Like I said, I’ll call Belinda to pick me up. Or an Uber.” When I saw I wasn’t convincing him, I said with more heat than necessary, “I lived in New York City all by myself for ten years, for heaven’s sake. I’m perfectly capable of finding a ride in Franklin, Tennessee.”
Indecision wavered in his eyes, so I gave him another quick kiss. “I’m sorry. I love you, but I need to do this, Colt. I need to stop feeling helpless.”
He gave me a grim nod. “Okay.”
I turned to Tilly and gave her a hug. “I’m sorry, Tilly. Truly.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said, her voice breaking.
I nodded, even though I didn’t agree, and headed through the service hallway to the front door. I wasn’t going to have Belinda pick me up, but I sure was going to have her meet me somewhere that served alcohol. And plenty of it.