A Deadly Row (16 page)

AFTER WE ATE, I NOTICED THAT IT WAS BARELY ELEVEN
o’clock.

I started carrying dirty dishes into the kitchen, and asked my uncle, “What would you like to do now?”

“After eating that much roast, I’d like to take a nap,” he said.

“Go on. I can occupy myself while you’re sleeping.”

Uncle Thomas laughed. “I was joking, Savannah. I’m not that old, at least not yet. I would love to have you stay with me all day, but I know you’ve got things to do, so you don’t have to keep me company.”

“Anything I’ve got on my plate can wait,” I said.

“Do you mean that?”

“I do,” I said. “I don’t have to leave for hours yet.”

“Then what do you say? Should we get the kayaks out and take a little trip on the water?”

I hadn’t been in a kayak forever, and I wasn’t even sure I could still paddle one, but the hope in his gaze was something I couldn’t bring myself to crush. “Let’s go.”

We loaded the kayaks into the back of his old brown Ford pickup, and I noticed large spots on the hood where the paint had peeled off, leaving a chalky gray surface exposed. “You should get that painted before it rusts.”

“I know, but I can’t find the right shade of spray paint to match it,” he said as we drove to the park. For an instant, I could swear I saw the black car again on the road, but it could just as easily have been my imagination. There was no doubt about it; I was starting to jump at shadows after spending so much time thinking about murder.

I tried to put that aside and get back to my uncle. “They have people who do professional paint jobs, you know.”

“Savannah, I’m not going to spend five hundred dollars getting an eight hundred dollar truck painted. This suits me just fine.”

It was true, too. There was something about that old pickup truck that matched my uncle’s personality. Though they were both tattered a little around the edges, there was a strength underneath that was undeniable.

We put the kayaks into the creek at the landing and glided through the water beside the path that ran around the perimeter of the park. Fishing bobbers hung from the trees like Christmas ornaments, lost to overly enthusiastic anglers, and logs from a recent storm were scattered in the water. As we turned a bend, a handful of ducklings and their mother paddled for shore. Uncle Thomas and I went all the way to the highway bridge, and as was our custom, we stopped underneath, listening to the cars thudding away overhead.

“Are you ready to head back?” he asked me after ten minutes.

“I am, if you are.”

“Let’s go then. I’ll race you to the landing.”

“I doubt I could beat you,” I admitted.

“Come on. You can do it. I have faith in you.” And then he took off like a shot in the water. I had no choice but to race after him, laughing so hard I could barely hold my paddle. Being with my uncle out on the water brought back a sense of joy to me that I hadn’t had in a long time. For those few moments, it was like being a kid again, and I reveled in what his presence could do for me.

 

THANKFULLY, I DIDN’T SEE ANY BLACK CARS ON THE WAY
back to his house. After we stowed the kayaks away under the deck, he said, “Girl, you’re really good for me. I haven’t felt this young in ages.”

“Neither have I,” I said. I glanced at my watch and saw that the afternoon was quickly slipping away. “I hate to say it, but I should probably head back to Charlotte.”

“Thanks for coming. You made my day something special.”

“I’ll try not to stay away so long next time,” I said as I headed for my car.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked.

Then I remembered my mother’s box, still sitting on the screened porch by my chair. “That’s right.”

“Hang on, I’ll get it for you.”

He did just that, and a few seconds later, Uncle Thomas handed the box to me. “I don’t know what’s inside, but I do know one thing. Having you was your mother’s greatest joy in life. She told me that many times.”

“Thank you. For everything.”

I kissed his cheek, then hugged him like I was never going to let go. When I pulled away from him, I was startled to find a tear tracking down my cheek.

“Hey, there’s no reason to be sad,” he said softly. “Wherever you go, a part of me will go with you.”

I said my good-byes, and as I drove away, I looked back at him. Every time we parted, I knew it could be the last time we saw each other, but his words did offer me a bit of comfort. He would live on in my heart as long as I took a single breath, and though we were many miles apart, in another—and very real way—we were always together. I’d loved my mother, but we’d had our share of tumult over the years. With my uncle, things had always been uncomplicated. One for all, and all for one, and no mercy for anyone who tried to interfere with that. As I headed back toward Hickory, I was startled to realize that I hadn’t married a man much like my father, but I had found someone who shared many of his traits with my uncle. It was no wonder the two men got along so well.

They both had a part of me.

As I drove back to Charlotte, I kept glancing at the box on the seat beside me. What secrets had my mother entrusted her brother to hold for me, and why was he giving them to me now? Would it be something awful, or wonderful?

And did I have the courage to open it, even with Zach by my side?

 

AS I TOOK THE EXIT FROM 1-40 EAST TO 1-77 SOUTH, I RE
alized that I was too tired to make anything but a simple puzzle, and there was no way my publisher was going to put up with that. I wasn’t all that thrilled with calling him, but I really didn’t have much choice.

“Derrick, it’s Savannah,” I said when I got him on the line.

“Would that be Simple Savannah, the easy puzzle maker?” he asked with that smart-aleck tone of voice he loved to use with me.

“Hey, sometimes folks like to remember how far they’ve come, and for others, it gives them a chance to get started.”

“I read your snippet, you don’t have to repeat it over the phone. I trust you have something a bit more challenging today.”

“That’s the thing. I need you to use one of the puzzles you have in my backup file.”

“Savannah, you need fresh puzzles every day, you know that, don’t you?”

“I would if I could, but I don’t have time right now.”

There was a long pause, and then he said, “If this is too much for you, maybe you should go ahead and retire like that husband of yours did.”

My puzzles were popular with the readers, and Derrick knew that, but since I’d gotten my work into more and more newspapers, he regretted the original deal we’d signed. His syndicate had one-time publishing rights to my puzzles, and he got a flat fifteen percent commission each time I got a check. Since we’d signed that deal, he came to find out that it was too generous on my end, at least in the opinion of some of his colleagues. Since then, he’d been trying to get me to sign another deal under terms more favorable to him, or if that didn’t work, he wanted me to quit so he could replace me with someone else. It was a constant struggle dealing with him, and it was one reason I was rarely late with a puzzle. If everything went as expected, the main contact I had with Derrick was my growing bank account.

“There’s no chance in the world I’m quitting. Besides, they love my little snippets, as you call them. I’d be harder to replace than you might think.”

He didn’t answer that, a clear indicator that he suspected that I was right.

“Fine, we’ll use one of your old ones. Just don’t make a habit of it.”

The way he said it was insulting, and I wasn’t in the mood to take any grief from him today. “They aren’t old to the readers, remember that.”

I could hear him riffling through a file on his desk. “You only have three left after I distribute this one; you know that, don’t you? That means you’re just three days away from being in breach of your contract. If that happens, all bets are off.”

I hadn’t realized my cache of backup puzzles had gotten that low. One bout of the flu and I’d have to renegotiate my contract with him, and that was something I wasn’t willing to do.

“Don’t worry; I’ll have a handful more by the end of the month.”

He sounded disappointed as he replied, “If you think you can do it, but I don’t want any more of those tiny little submissions like you sent yesterday. For what they’re paying you, the papers expect more complex math and logic puzzles from you.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said, though I had no intention of creating a puzzle that was too complex for my average reader. There might be puzzlemakers out there who could run circles around my computational challenges, but I had something they could never replace. The snippets that Derrick disliked too much as “homey” were something that came from me, and no one else in the world could come up with them just the way I did.

“I need a new puzzle tomorrow, Savannah.”

“Good-bye, Derrick,” I said, and hung up on him before he could reply.

I hated to call him, since every conversation we had always led me to feel like I needed a shower, but I wasn’t about to let his sour disposition ruin my mood. My time with Uncle Thomas, especially out on the water, had been too dear for me to let anything else ruin it. I’d buckle down and crank out more puzzles, and get enough breathing room to keep Derrick off my back.

Just not tonight.

I WAS ACTUALLY FEELING BETTER AN HOUR LATER. AFTER A
long shower and a fresh outfit, I was ready to tackle a puzzle after all. I’d just settled onto the couch with a pad of paper and a pencil when there was a knock at the door.

I thought about ignoring it, but it was like a ringing telephone. I just had to answer it.

“Yes?” I called out before I opened the door. Zach’s warnings were starting to sink in, especially after I had the feeling that someone had followed me from Charlotte to Hickory, even though I still wasn’t certain if I’d been right or not.

“Savannah, I’d like a moment of your time, if I could.”

Just because the man knew my name didn’t mean I had to open the door. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know you.”

“Of course you don’t,” he said. “I could show you some identification if you’d open the door. I happen to own this hotel.“

“How do I know that’s true?” I asked.

“I suppose you can’t.” After a moment’s pause, he added, “It appears that we’re at a stalemate. Is there anyone at the hotel that you trust?”

I thought about it, and realized that there was one person who fit that bill. “Garrett,” I said.

“Excellent.”

I could hear him speak briefly into his telephone, and a minute later, the manager arrived. “Ms. Stone, it’s Garrett.”

That was certainly a voice I’d come to recognize. I opened the door, and there were two men standing in the hallway. Garrett smiled at me, but the man with him was a stranger to me. Then I realized that there was something familiar about him, though I had no idea what it was. The inkling was gone as quickly as it had come.

“Sorry about that, but you can’t be too careful,” I said.

“Your prudence is admirable,” the man said. “Allow me to introduce myself in person. I’m Barton Lane.”

I wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the hug I gave him was clearly a surprise. I thought Garrett, as cool and calm as he’d been with me before, looked as though he was going to pass out.

“Barton, thank you for everything. I’ve never felt so pampered in my life.”

When I pulled away, I saw that he was smiling. “It’s my pleasure.” The hotel owner turned to his employee and added, “You may go.”

“Of course, sir,” Garrett said. As he walked to the elevator, I saw him turn back slightly and look at me with an expression of complete awe.

“Won’t you come in?” I asked, moving aside so he could step into his suite. The place was immaculate, except for the pad and pencil still on the couch. He took it in instantly.