Chapter Ten #2
Nodding, Meredith went into the house and ducked into the shower to wash off the day’s grime. When she emerged from the bathroom, Wynona was waiting for her with a trio of dresses. Meredith glanced at first dress, a sexy red number with skinny straps.
“Definitely not.”
Wynona brought forward a second option. “How about this?”
The second dress, also red, had a floral print and a flowy, bohemian style. It was off the shoulder and feminine but not flashy. Meredith thought of the missing person article from the internet and hesitated. The dress would draw attention.
“Please,” Wynona said. “Bright colors cheer me up.”
Meredith accepted the dress, feeling railroaded, and went to her room to change.
Although Wynona was smaller than Meredith, the dress fit her well enough.
She donned a pair of leather sandals that had seen better days and studied her reflection in the mirror.
She wondered what Wade would think. She wanted him to like her, she realized.
She wanted him to see her and desire her.
Wynona insisted on doing her hair and makeup. Meredith sat on the vanity chair in Wynona’s room while the other woman braided strands from her temples into a loose coronet. Then she applied a dusting of eye shadow and a hint of lip gloss.
“You’re pretty as a picture,” Wynona said.
Meredith tugged at the bodice of the dress, self-conscious. She’d become accustomed to her work clothes and faded cap. She needed to avoid attention, not attract it. She certainly couldn’t afford to rev up Wade Hendricks.
Too late.
Wynona dragged her out the door with a gleeful expression, as if eager to show off a new pet.
Meredith drove them to a Mexican restaurant called Cantina.
At sunset, the outdoor patio was pleasant.
They ate chips and salsa. Wynona sipped a margarita.
Over a delicious entrée of chicken enchiladas, Meredith picked up their earlier conversation.
“Has Wade mentioned Billy’s birthday?” she asked.
Wynona set down her drink. “No, why?”
“I thought maybe he’d want to spend time with you.”
She flashed a sad smile. “I’m sure he’s too busy. He told me he’ll be working late, investigating.”
“Oh, right. The remains.”
“Remains? What remains?”
Meredith regretted mentioning it. “A group of boys found human remains near the lake. Old bones. It’s a mystery, I guess.”
Wynona seemed disturbed by the news, which didn’t surprise Meredith. The woman had lost her son less than six months ago. She drained her margarita glass, left some cash on the table, and excused herself to use the restroom.
Meredith paid the check and waited for Wynona to return. A dull ache started in her lower abdomen, a little pulsing cramp that often accompanied her period. She rifled through her purse for an ibuprofen tablet. Then she went to the restroom to look for Wynona.
“Wynona?” she called into empty stalls.
No answer.
It dawned on Meredith that she’d been ditched.
Wynona must have snuck out the side entrance.
Her favorite bar, Crazy Horse Saloon, was within walking distance.
Shaking her head in annoyance, Meredith left the restaurant.
She drove to the bar, two blocks down, and parked.
She wondered if this had been Wynona’s plan all along.
The woman was crafty as hell. Grief and alcoholism were a dangerous mix.
Inside the bar, a popular country-western song blasted from the jukebox.
“Poison Rose,” by Tripp Gilley. The lyrics described a man who’d gotten caught up in a toxic relationship.
Meredith was familiar with the song, and she had no doubts about its inspiration.
Hearing it now did not improve her mood.
Wynona was sitting on a barstool, sipping beer and tapping her foot to the catchy tune. Meredith took the space beside her.
“You found me,” Wynona said brightly, as if she’d been playing hide and seek.
“Is it really Billy’s birthday?”
Wynona ignored the question, because another bar patron came rambling up to them. He was about ten years older than Wynona, with long gray hair and a full beard. He gave Meredith a crooked smile.
“Hey, Nona, introduce me to your friend.”
“She’s too young for you, Barry.”
“So are you, but that doesn’t stop me. Dance with me.”
Wynona laughed gaily and rose from the barstool. They joined another couple on the dance floor.
“What can I get you?”
Meredith turned to face the bartender. She was a pretty woman in her thirties. She had straight black hair, perfect red lipstick, and an impressive bust. Beneath heavy lashes, her eyes were hard.
“Shirley Temple.”
“Coming right up.”
Meredith nursed the drink and endured the too-loud ambiance. Since she’d given up alcohol, she didn’t enjoy the smell of it. Bad memories assailed her, and her stomach cramps worsened steadily. She nibbled on the cherry garnish from her drink and wished she could be anywhere else.
Life was so freaking unfair sometimes. It was a sad fact that decent, hard-working people struggled to make ends meet every day, while violent, abusive jerks like Tripp Gilley got rich from taking their money.
Before Wynona returned from the dance floor, a man in uniform walked in.
Meredith did a double take to make sure the deputy wasn’t Wade.
The badge on his khaki shirt, along with the utility belt on his waist, declared him an officer of the law.
He had dark hair and a trim physique. He spoke quietly to the barmaid.
She leaned forward to distract him with her cleavage. His eyes dipped but didn’t linger.
Wynona came back for her beer. “That’s Sheriff Nava’s boy. He’s the spitting image of his father at that age.”
Meredith glanced at the officer again. He was handsome, and the barmaid was practically purring at him. He didn’t appear pleased by the exchange. They chatted for another minute. He surveyed the bar in a quick sweep. With a curt nod, he left.
“She’s married,” Wynona said. “But she don’t act like it.”
Meredith turned her attention back to Wynona. Pain radiated from her abdomen in waves. “I don’t feel well.”
“You look pale.”
“Can you drive me home?”
Wynona gave her a sympathetic pat. “Cramps?”
“Yes.”
“Have you taken anything?”
“Over-the-counter stuff. It’s not working.”
“I have some painkillers in my purse.”
“What kind?”
“What kind do you want?” Wynona replied.
Meredith named the prescription she’d been taking sparingly for the past few years.
Wynona snapped open her purse to check her personal pharmacy.
Nodding, she removed a generic-looking white pill from a container.
Meredith accepted it gratefully. She suspected that Wynona took pills to dull her grief, rather than to manage physical pain.
Although Meredith was concerned about the habit, she was in no condition to start a serious conversation. Wynona wouldn’t listen, regardless.
“Do you want to wait a few minutes and give it a chance to work?” Wynona asked.
“No. I can’t sit here anymore.”
Wynona helped Meredith rise from the barstool. “Lean on me. I’ve got you.”
Together, they stumbled out of the bar.