33. Nicolette
Nicolette
T he Farmer’s Market was already packed with vendors by the time Riot and I arrived. He stood in the bed of his truck, pushing the artwork to the tailgate. I unloaded his new pieces onto a push cart, noticing how different they had been lately. More colorful, more hopeful.
When I arrived in Godot, his pieces were dark with sharp edges and almost all rusty, black steel. Now the animals had colored eyes, and he used mirrors and glass to cast sparkling rainbows against the walls.
Some of the vendorswerealready coming over to eye the work.
Theseweregoingtogo fast and I couldn’t help but beam with pridewatchinghim carry the last one in through the bay door.
His black t-shirtclungto his chest and arms in all the right areas and Itriednot to blush,rememberingthe devastatingly wonderful way hewokeme up this morning.
His fingerstracingmy nipples and his lipstrailinglower.
“Excuse me, are all of these from the same artist?” a woman interrupted my thoughts.
“They are,” I nodded. Riot bent down to place the heaviest piece on the floor.
“Are you Riot Asher?” she asked with wide eyes.
I groaned. Here we go. I understood why Riot didn’t want to man his own booth. To be subject to open scrutiny. I steeled myself for the tongue-lashing I was prepared to give this woman if she brought up his criminal record. But I was stunned when she stepped right up to him, extending her hand.
“Isawyour piece at the Godot Field Days a few weeks back. Oh, my God,I’mso glad Igotto meet you in person. My nameisAvery Adams; I own an art gallery in Charleston and I simply must talk to you about ashowing.”
Riot stood there, looking like an invalid who didn’t speak English. Part of me realized he probably never had this reception before. His eyes flitted to me and I nodded encouragingly. He shook the woman’s hand.
“Thank you, yes that was a good piece. I was… proud of it.” His cheeks pinked and his eyes flitted to me quickly. It was adorable how he stumbled over his words.
Avery linked her elbow through his and began walking. “I’m thinking we could do a limited-time showcase later this summer…” As she passed by she gave me a not-so-subtle wink. “Well, he’s sure marketable, isn’t he?”
A splash of anxious possessionhitme and my eyesnarrowedat the old bat. But Istooddown because thiswasthe first time Riotgotto interact with anyone but me about his artwork. I couldn’t keep his talent to myself forever.
Look at me and my personal growth.
We were once again almost sold out before the market was over. Riot had just returned from his walk with Avery the Art Collector and he was teeming with nervous energy but trying to be cool about it.
“She said if it took off in Charleston, it could maybe be a traveling showcase. There’s a tour going to Charlotte and Asheville later this fall.”
I smiled and stood on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek and brush a loose lock of hair off his face. “That’s awesome, Riot. You should be proud. I know I am.” He smiled at the repeated words he’d written on my article weeks ago.
“I couldn’t have done this without you, Nic. Seriously, thank you.” He wrapped his arms around me and I wondered why I wasn’t feeling more joy. Something in my heart tightened at the idea of Riot going on an art tour .
If it was how he made his living, he could get a limited exception to his probation. He’d done it before for a show on Hanniqua Island. So, why wasn’t I more thrilled? Deep down I knew it was because if Riot’s art career took off, I wasn’t sure where that left me.
Where did I want to be? What was next? I shook the thought away. He pulled back and smiled down at me.
“What do you think about going to the diner and getting a giant stack of sticky French toast?” he asked. My heart floated at the hopeful expression on his face.
“I would love to but Ihaveto make a quick visit to the Valley to follow up on that clinical trial study.”Itwasonly a partial lie but itsatin my gut likerottingfruit.
Riot pouted briefly before kissing me on the forehead. “Okay, see you at home?”
Home. There it was again. Said plainly like second nature.
Ipressedmy lips into a thin smile andnodded. Hehesitateda moment,seeingthe tightness in my face. I didn’t want him to worry.
“Hey, what do you think aboutgoingback to the lake tonight? Maybe pack a tent and do a little mini-camp trip? See if Brennan wants to go?”Iofferedand Riotperkedup, happilypreoccupiedwith my distraction.
“That sounds like a great idea,I’llthrow some stuff in the truck.”
Before he turned to go, he pressed his lips wholeheartedly against mine one more time, inhaling softly, his dark lashes closed so I followed suit.
I felt drunk, frozen in place when Riot pulled away, flashing me another grin before walking to his truck.
I studied his firm figure, the way his hips and backside flexed as he walked.
I stood there and the only way I could admittedly describe it was swoon-worthy.
I had to come clean with him. I just needed today.
Chelsea hadn’t been kidding about the Valley going downhill.
It was startling. I drove into the small community.
Front lawns were so overgrown that you could hardly see the dorm-like townhouses that were built there.
It was hard to believe that only a mile or two down the road sat beautiful, sprawling farmhouses and suburban colonials.
Peoplesaton the front steps of their homes,gatheredin groups of four or five every few houses. Isawa few kids running through a sprinkler thatsatnestledin a foot of tall grass.
The homes were basic and kind of cute but even the ones that were well taken care of were overshadowed by their deteriorating neighbors.
Eventually, even the most beautiful flowers will get choked out by the thickness of overgrown weeds.
My knuckles rapped on Emery Plainbottom’s door. Brief rustling subsided to silence.
A man who should be my father’s agestoodin front of me.
Only he didn’t look my father’s age. Helookedat least twenty years older.
His speckled skinwasthin andsaggingas ifmeltingoff him.
An oxygen tube ran under his nose and hooked behind his ears.
Hewashunchedover at barely five foot five.
Despite his decrepit appearance, hehadbright brown eyes thatwereinquisitive despite the redness around his retinas.
“Hi, Emery Plainbottom? I’m Nicolette—”
“Parker, yes, I know. Youwentto school with Katie, right? Come on in.”
He waved me in and retreated inside without even knowing why I was there. Sometimes southern hospitality had its perks. He gestured for me to sit on an old floral-print couch. A coffee table sat in the middle of the room scattered with prescription bottles and a tea kettle.
“What brings you to the Valley, my dear?”His wristsshookviolently while hetriedto pour hot water from the kettle. Ireachedout to grab it but hewavedme off.“I gotta do it on my own. Keeps me sharp.”Hegaveme a toothy grin, sitting in the oversized electric lounge chair.
“Well, it might be a sensitive topic and I want you to know that everythingisoff the record. Thisispurely human curiosity.”
He nodded, rolling his eyes. “Dear, I’m too old for niceties. What can I do for you?”
Straight to the point then.
“Grace Asher,”Isaidher name clearly andstudiedhis reaction. A sincere sadnesswashedover him, his headbobbingup and down.“I’mhopingyou could tell me about the crime scene. As much as you can remember at least.”
He was surprised. “I’ll never forget that day.” He blew out a long breath before taking a sip of tea and leaning back into his chair. “I’m curious why you ask about her, though. That case has been closed for some years now. Time served and everything.”
Ichosemy words carefully.“I’vebeenrentingout a room on the Asher property for the past few weeks. I guessI’mtryingto better understand whathappenedthat night.I’mhaving a hard timeconnectingsuch a brutal death with the two men I share a space with. They just don’t seem the type.”
Emery looked at me pointedly. “The first thing you should know is that everyone is capable of anything given the right circumstances.”
I nodded like it was a profound thought but the truth was, I had learned that a long time ago.
“Of course. I read the police report and there were just a few things that seemed inconsistent with how R—” I paused, “um, how the boys remember it. Do you remember where you found Grace?”
“Oh yes, I might be full of cancer and drugs but the image of that poor womanwillbeburnedin my brain until the good Lord calls me home.”His grim expressionhelda hint of humor.“Which should be any day now.”
I offered him a sympathetic smile.
“The way their house was laid out — the kitchen opened up into the family room. The dining room was off to the side here.” He gestured with his hands, resting his head as if looking off into some distant memory.
“She was lyin’ on her back, halfway between the kitchen and dining room.
Eyes still wide with fear.” He shook his head despondently.
“Couldn’t imagine the terror, your own boy…
” His tongue made a clicking noise, and I masked my indignant bristle.
“You’re sure she was face up toward the dining room? The boys seem to remember everything happening in the living room and… ending in the kitchen.”
“Oh, I’m sure. I’m not going to call myself a forensic specialist or nothin’ but I’ll never forget that look of terror on her face.”
“I thought the house burned down. Her body was still… identifiable?”
“Oh, yes.” Emery nodded assuredly. “The fire department arrived pretty quickly to extinguish it. Only the outside was burned beyond repair. Most of the inside was almost untouched.”
My insides buzzed.
“The fire started from the outside?” I tried to mask the rising flurry inside.