Chapter 6
“This is not a good idea.”
He’d said that about half a dozen times already. “Just wait in the car, Wyatt.” Adeline wasn’t going over this again. She reached for the door handle.
“I’m going in with you.”
“That’s not necessary.” The old bastard knew she was coming. He was probably watching out the window at that very moment.
“The hell you say.” Wyatt got out.
Adeline rolled her eyes and did the same. She slammed the door of the SUV to show her displeasure.
Cyrus Cooper’s place stood about halfway between Moss Point and Pascagoula.
The Coopers owned the land for as far as the eye could see.
Nothing but woods butting up to the river.
Too lazy to farm any of it. Too ornery to develop a single acre.
Cyrus’s only brother, Adeline’s father, had owned the adjoining farm.
Her mother had lived there alone since his death ten years ago.
Adeline hadn’t set foot on either place in nine years. Had sworn she never would again.
Right now she was too pissed to give one shit what anyone thought of her change of heart.
She climbed the steps to the old plantation-style house that had been in the Cooper family since before the Civil War.
Ancient live oaks populated the yard, Spanish moss dangling from the long limbs.
Every square foot of the house, inside and out, was meticulously maintained.
And yet, with the looming trees and its hurricane shutters closed over the windows, the place could easily be mistaken for something out of a horror flick.
Adeline walked straight up to the door and banged hard.
Wyatt took his time reaching the door. He’d called Cyrus to let him know they were coming. Most likely to prevent being shot by some of his hired guns. Folks knew better than to show up unannounced on Cooper land.
The door opened and a tall, thin man stepped back for Adeline to enter. “Mr. Cyrus is expecting you,” he said. “He’s waiting in the parlor.”
“Thanks.” Adeline didn’t hesitate. She strode across the entry hall to the double doors leading into the parlor, slid the pocket doors apart, and stepped inside. Wyatt didn’t permit her to get more than two steps ahead of him.
Cyrus sat next to the sofa, his legs and lap covered with a blanket that couldn’t disguise the fact that he was seated in a wheelchair.
The wheelchair was new; so was his butler, man Friday—whatever the hell he was.
When Adeline had last had words with Cyrus, he’d been quite mobile on crutches.
No more, apparently. That he had himself a Jeeves spoke volumes about just how incapacitated he was.
Adeline hated to feel glee from anyone’s misery, but she did just the same.
The fact was, this part of Mississippi would have been a better place if the old bastard had died in the car accident that had stolen his ability to walk without assistance thirty-some years ago. Apparently his damaged back had finally given in to mere human frailty.
“You’re just as beautiful as your mother said,” Cyrus declared. “Your daddy would be proud.”
What the hell was he doing talking to her mother?
“I didn’t come here to exchange pleasantries, old man.” Fury throbbed in Adeline’s veins. How dare this old bastard try to talk family shit with her!
Next to her, Wyatt shifted. “Mr. Cooper, Adeline only just arrived in town, and already there’s been some trouble.”
Cyrus stared at Adeline, didn’t bother so much as flicking a glance at the sheriff. “I can’t imagine you were surprised by that reaction, Addy. You left a bad taste in a lot of folks’ mouths nine years ago.”
She had hoped he would say something like that. Scarcely able to keep the smirk off her lips, she turned to Wyatt. “We need a minute alone.”
He was shaking his head firmly before she’d finished making the statement. “It’s my job to keep the peace in this county. I’m not about to step out of this room and have you two go at it.”
“No need to be concerned, Sheriff.” Cyrus held up both hands. “I’m unarmed. You may check beneath my blanket if you feel the inclination. Addy is my niece. I’m certainly not afraid of being alone with her.”
“One minute,” Adeline snapped. That the old bastard referred to her as his niece made her want to kick something. “Just step out into the hall, Wyatt.” She lowered her voice to a fierce whisper. “One damned minute, that’s all I’m asking for.”
Hands on hips, Wyatt held his ground several seconds—just long enough to piss her off even more. Then he turned and walked out of the room.
When the doors had closed, Adeline settled the full weight of nine damned years of fury on Cyrus Cooper.
“Now, you listen to me, old man. A woman is missing, most likely dead. I’m here to help determine what happened to her, and I’m not going anywhere until I know all the facts.
So you call off your dogs until this is done, and we won’t have a problem. ”
Those squinty eyes held hers. A few years ago he would have gone toe to toe with her even if only by means of the crutches. But no more. The idea that he was so helpless gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling all over again.
The seemingly patient and kind expression he’d worn for the sheriff vanished. A long-simmering bitterness tightened his features. “You’re still as full of piss and vinegar as ever, aren’t you, girl? Still flaunting that self-righteous attitude your daddy took to his grave.”
The comment about her father obliterated the glee she’d momentarily experienced.
Hatred charged through her. “Did you hear what I said?” Adeline stepped closer, glared down at him with all the loathing that writhed inside her.
“I’m sorry as hell Gage is dead, but I didn’t kill him.
Your son killed himself by being involved with drug smugglers.
So if you’re still holding that against me, it’s time you got over it. ”
“You are my baby brother’s only child.” Cyrus lifted his saggy chin and studied her, the bitterness abruptly replaced by something akin to sentimentality. “He and your mother loved you more than life itself. That’s the reason you didn’t die when my Gage did. The only reason.”
“I didn’t die,” she countered, “because I was on the right side of the law.”
“This thing that happened,” Cyrus confessed, the ferocity going out of his voice and his expression with the same abruptness as the bitterness, “was a long time ago.” He braced his elbows on the padded metal chair arms and steepled his fingers.
“At the time, I asked you to leave Mississippi and never come back. As long as you didn’t, I promised not to seek my vengeance for what you did to my son. ”
Whatever else she said on the subject would be a waste of time and energy. “Do you have a point?”
“My point is,” he offered, “things have changed. I no longer have any interest in seeking revenge.”
“Then why the hell were my tires slashed?”
“I can’t control what others do,” Cyrus explained wearily. “There are a lot of folks around here who are still deeply grieved by what you did to Gage and to Sheriff Grider.”
“Grider was a piece of shit who sold out his office to help the people your son was working with. People you were working with.”
“I won’t argue about the past with you, Addy. I’m dying.”
The word rang in the silence that followed.
Why the hell hadn’t her mother told her about this? Adeline gritted her teeth against the slim thread of emotion she shouldn’t have felt. This bastard didn’t deserve her sympathy. “If you’re expecting me to say I’m sorry,” she offered, “that’s not gonna happen.”
“I don’t expect you to feel remorse for my situation.”
That was good, because she sure as hell didn’t.
“I have cancer. They say I have eight months, tops. Life looks very different when you’re viewing it from this angle.”
Whatever. “Are you going to tell your people to leave me be?”
“I’ll tell them,” Cyrus granted, “but I’m doubtful that it will carry much weight. Since my cancer was diagnosed, Clay does what he pleases with or without my blessing.”
Clay, the scumbag, was Gage’s younger brother. He was probably the one who’d vandalized her Bronco. “Maybe you’ve got everyone else around here believing you’re no longer in charge, but I know better. Clay does exactly what you tell him, just as his brother did.”
“Things really have changed, Addy.” Cyrus held her gaze, probably selfishly searching for some glimmer of the sympathy he claimed he didn’t want. “More than you know.”
“Did you send me the photo?”
The old bastard frowned. “What photo?”
“Did you cut and paste words onto a page and send it to me?”
He shook his head. The confusion was seemingly genuine. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then that puts you in the same boat as everyone else around here. Nobody knows shit. I’m here to see that the job gets done right, since it involves me somehow. So keep your dogs off my back.” That was all Adeline had to say.
She headed for the double doors. She’d spent as much time breathing the same air space as this creepy old bastard as she intended to.
“Was Ms. Prescott blond?”
Adeline hesitated. What the hell kind of question was that? “You don’t read the paper or watch the news?”
“Not anymore. My vision’s too poor since having the chemotherapy treatments. On Sundays Everett reads the paper to me. Keeps me abreast of the important headlines as they appear.”
“Then why don’t you ask him?”
“I’m asking you.”
Adeline turned to face Cyrus. He really did look old and frail.
Nothing like the powerful son of a bitch he used to be.
She was glad. She hoped he withered up completely before that black heart ceased to beat.
“Yes, Cherry Prescott has blond hair.” It wasn’t lost on her that he asked the question in the past tense. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious. That’s all.”
Bullshit. “Stay out of my way, Cyrus, and I’ll be out of your territory before you know it.”