Chapter Fifty
The Mill Village
CJ stared at what used to be her childhood home. Mostly it was a pile of charred remains now. The smells of smoke and damp burned wood filled her nostrils. Yellow tape surrounded the house as a warning that it was an official crime scene.
The fire marshal’s investigation had discovered an accelerant. The fire had been started in the kitchen.
How was that possible?
She’d been in the frigging shower, for Christ’s sake.
Edward had been in the living room looking out the window. He’d stated that he’d heard a sound and was attacked before he could turn around.
The house was a total loss.
Everything inside was gone.
All the photos of her and Shelley as children. The boxes in the attic that contained relics from their past. That tattered old sofa.
Everything representing CJ’s early life . . . gone.
Her sister was gone.
Ricky was dead. Juanita and Carter were dead. It was hard as hell for CJ to feel sorry for Ricky and Carter. But she did somewhat understand Juanita’s motives, her bitterness. And her poor child. He’d lost his mother.
They were all dead—murdered. There was no one left to blame except Tyrone.
He was the only person who had motives for every single murder committed. Including Celeste’s.
How could it not be him?
CJ had tried to call him a dozen times since yesterday. He wasn’t taking or returning her calls.
Did that mean he was scared? Or just didn’t trust her to go through with the exchange now?
What did he have to offer?
At this point, who could he possibly name as Shelley’s killer? Anyone who might have wanted her out of the way was dead.
“I’ve contacted a service,” Edward said as he moved to her side, “to go through the rubble. Perhaps they will find some salvageable mementos.”
“Thank you.” In reality, did it matter? Was there really anything about her childhood worth salvaging?
Just the few photos of her and Shelley that hadn’t been stolen. And none of those likely survived. But she appreciated the thought. As always, Edward came through for her. Misery settled heavily onto her shoulders.
Where would she hold Shelley’s memorial service now? There was a church on Triana that most of the older village residents attended. She supposed that would be okay.
“CJ.”
She blinked, looked up at Edward. He nodded toward the south end of the street. “Do you know those people?”
CJ turned to see whom he meant. Eight . . . no, nine young women, miniskirts or short shorts showcasing their long thin legs, marched in their direction. As they neared, CJ recognized a couple from the clinic.
Tyrone’s foot soldiers.
“Yes,” she said to Edward. “They live around here.”
The leader of the pack was one of the women she’d treated at the clinic. For the life of her, CJ couldn’t remember her name. She only remembered the miniskirt she’d been wearing. Today she wore pink short shorts.
Pink Shorts Girl walked up to CJ. “We heard about your house.” She jerked her head toward the remnants left by the fire. “We wanted you to know that we’re sorry as hell about everything. Shelley . . . the house.”
CJ swallowed back the emotion that crowded into her throat. Hearing those words from these women meant more than anyone else could possibly understand. “Thank you.”
“You being a fancy doctor and all,” the woman said, “we figure you probably don’t need no help from us. Don’t think you’d want to wear none of our clothes.”
CJ smiled. “It’s the thought that counts.” Keeping the tears from brimming past her lashes wasn’t easy. “I appreciate it so much.”
“Yeah. Well,” the woman went on, “we wanted to tell you that we’re holding a little something for Shelley and Celeste tonight.
You probably call it a wake or something, we call it a party.
Anyways, you come on by Dubose Street about nine, Doc.
” She glanced at Edward. “Bring your friends. We got plenty of room in the yard. We’ll throw back a few beers and talk about the good times with them two. ”
CJ smiled, feeling a kinship she hadn’t felt for anyone in this village for a long time. “I’d like that. Thank you.”
Pink Shorts Girl shrugged. “Shelley would like it. She liked music and dancing. Like the rest of us.”
CJ nodded. “That’s a wonderful idea.”
Each of the women made eye contact with CJ before turning and marching away.
There were a lot of things CJ had been wrong about in her life, but at that moment she realized for the first time that she truly had been wrong to some degree about life in this village.
Yes, it was hard. Yes, it was not always nice. The people here stuck their heads in the sand too often . . . but they were a family of sorts. They were there for each other to the best of their ability when it really counted.
“Are you sure coming here at night is a good idea?”
CJ turned to Edward. Of course, he would be concerned and more than a little mortified on her behalf.
Her safety and happiness were always paramount to him.
She was very lucky to have someone who cared so much.
The way Braddock had held her and then made love to her last night filtered through her senses.
He cared about her too. There was something there . . . something more than just good sex.
“It’s more than a good idea, Edward.” She turned and watched the women disappear from sight. “It’s the right thing to do.”
Shelley’s life needed to be celebrated. What better place to do it than here, with the people who’d shared that life with her?