“Well, the fakes are printed on chemically treated paper, and the signatures are stamped or signed with black ink. But the original Confederate notes were signed in something called iron gall ink. It was a very dark blue, but on paper, as it aged, looked brown. And the serial numbers are usually in brown.” Dani turned the bill over in her hands. “I’d have to examine this under a microscope and check the serial number against a list of known fakes. But we might have a diamond in the rough. Of course, there was also a lot of fake Confederate currency made during the Civil War. This could be a very good fake. Even then, it’s genuinely old, I think.”
“But if it’s real?”
“It could be worth five figures. Just depends.”
Jaymee reached the edge of her frayed nerves. Her stupid hands shook, and her fingertips stung. “So Stanley’s got some side business that mixes real and fakes, and Nick gets himself in trouble over it?”
“It’s possible,” Dani said. “Or maybe Stanley bought these somewhere and is totally innocent. We’ll have to tell Cage and Gina, let them sort it out.”
“Meanwhile, Nick is still out there, and Roselea is burning.” Whatever hope of finding Nick alive seemed to have been burned away with the fire. Jaymee felt suddenly heavy, unable to even lift her finger, her head sinking into the lumpy pillow like a weight.
Dani squeezed her hand. “I wish I could tell you something to make you feel better, but there’s nothing to say. Everything is pretty much shit right now.”
“Thanks for being honest. I don’t need sugarcoating.” A sob worked its way up her sore throat as Jaymee finally voiced her biggest fear. “God, what if he’s dead?”
“You can’t think that way.”
“When Lana was killed, I thought burying her would be the hardest part, that nothing was worse than saying goodbye to that casket. But this is worse. Not knowing where he is or what happened hurts so bad I feel it in my bones.”
“I know.”
Dani held her hand but said nothing more. Jaymee gave herself to the pain, allowing the hot, ugly tears to fall. They left soot-stained blotches on the crisp, white pillow.
“I won’t stop looking until I find out what happened.”
“Neither will I,” Dani said. “I promise.”
A soft knock on the door caught their attention. Jeb Riley, white coroner’s badge gleaming against his black shirt, hesitated in the doorway. He carried the black bag of death, as Cage liked to call it.
An unseen knife slashed right through Jaymee, piercing her stomach so that she nearly gagged. “Why are you here? Did they find Nick? Are you here about his body?”
“No, no.” Jeb stowed the bag over his shoulder and came to her bedside. “An elderly lady passed a while ago, so I had to come in. I heard what happened and stopped by to check on you.”
“She’s going to be fine.” Dani still sounded shaky.
“You’re lucky. People are saying the house exploded.”
“Her car was in the garage,” Dani said. “It exploded.”
“Penn’s car.” Jaymee felt terrible about the loss. He’d be more concerned about her well-being, but she still felt like a horse’s ass, even if Penn had insurance.
“How did it start?” Jeb asked.
“They don’t know yet,” Dani said. “Joseph Stanley called Jaymee over and knew she was there alone.”
Jeb started chewing on a generic antacid. “Do they think someone wanted to hurt her?”
Dani glanced at her. Jaymee shrugged.
“We don’t really know right now,” Dani said.
“Understood. But I don’t like the idea of you two being alone with Nick missing and Jaymee being roughed up. She could have been killed.”
“We’ll be fine,” Jaymee said. “We’ll stick together, I promise.”
Jeb looked disgruntled, and Dani led him into the hall, assuring him they would call if needed.
Jaymee tried to rest, but every time her eyes shuttered closed, visions of smoke and flames attacked, trapping and melting her body into nothing but ashes and bone.
To hell with sleeping.
Two hours later,
the afternoon bleeding into evening, Jaymee and Dani walked out of the hospital. Jaymee thought she’d prepared herself for the sight of the demon on the horizon, but her breath still left her in a hard whoosh.
With the sun setting in the west, the eastern sky blazed with a red, smoke-covered behemoth. A gray pall covered downtown as residents stood on the sidewalks, some carrying things to their waiting vehicles, gaping at the fire less than five miles away.
“Fire Marshall said if it gets within two miles of town, we’ll be forced to evacuate.” The portly owner of the beloved creamery Sweet Treats huffed past talking on his cellphone. “Some people already are, but I’ll be damned if I leave.”
A light wind still blew to the east, driving the fire away from town. For now.
“Jaymee.”
She turned to find Joseph Stanley, his right hand bandaged, hurrying toward her. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
“Thanks to you.” She didn’t know if she should act grateful or smack him in the face and demand to know what he’d done with Nick. She still wasn’t sure Stanley could take him, and if he set the fire specifically to kill Jaymee, why pull her out? “I’m so grateful.”
“I’m just glad I heard your screams. I had no idea you were still there.”
“I shouldn’t have parked in the garage. If I hadn’t, things might not have gotten so bad.”
“You couldn’t have known that.” Stanley rubbed his arm across his forehead leaving a thin trail of soot.
Dani pulled a tissue out of her purse and handed it to him. “Do you have any idea how the fire started?”
Stanley hesitated long enough for Jaymee’s attention to focus on the man coming to stand behind him. Tall, imposing. Good-looking baby boomer type. Wrinkles around his blue eyes.
Dani elbowed her, but Jaymee already had the answer: the man they’d seen talking to the warden at Delta Correctional. The ex-senator.
“They believe it’s arson.” The man’s deep voice sent a foreboding tremor down Jaymee’s spine. He extended his hand. His eyes were a pretty blue, a familiar…
Jaymee stilled. The man in the picture she’d seen at Stanley’s stood in front of her. “Wyatt Booth, CEO of Norton Investments.”
“Stanley’s visitor.” Jaymee tried to be polite even though he was the source of much of Roselea’s squabbling these past months.
“That’s right,” Stanley said. “Guess we’ll get a hotel, preferably out of town.”
“It’s all settled,” Booth said. “Mayor Asher has offered to put us up.”
“How nice of him,” Dani said. “I’m sure he’s worried about his son since Dylan’s a volunteer firefighter.”
Jaymee’s brain was still rebooting. Of course Dylan would be out there fighting the fire.
Damn. I hope he’s all right.
“He is,” Booth said. “And very worried about the town.” His calculating eyes were mesmerizing, and Jaymee got the feeling he knew how to manipulate people. “Much of the fire at the house is under control,” Booth continued. “But with the speed and force of the blaze, the fire marshal believes an accelerant was used. Do you have any enemies, Miss Ballard?”
“I—what?”
“I wasn’t there,” Stanley said. “But you were. Whoever started the fire waited until that moment.”
“But her car was in the garage,” Dani said. “I assume that’s where yours would have been. Since it’s your house, I’d guess
you
had the enemy.”
“Unless you set it yourself.” The words popped out of Jaymee’s mouth before she could stop them.
Whoops. So much for politeness and decorum. Oh well.
Treading lightly wasn’t exactly her strongest trait.
“Excuse me?” Stanley’s thin face twisted into a weasel-like expression.
No sense in backtracking. “My boyfriend is missing. You were questioned by the police.” Dani’s nails dug into her hand. Jaymee got the message. She wouldn’t mention her findings. “Then your house catches fire with me in it. Maybe you think I know whatever Nick did.”
“I saved your life,” Stanley snapped. “At risk to my own.”
“Because you had to. Other people were around.” That thought only just occurred to her. Maybe Stanley hadn’t counted on her being upstairs and had assumed she’d die from the smoke before anyone heard her scream. Her snooping might have saved her life. She’d have to remind Cage of that next time he got on her ass.
“This is a lousy way to show your gratitude. And for all I know, you set the fire and screwed up.”
“Now Joe,” Booth admonished. His voice was the perfect contrast to Stanley’s knife-like accusations. Warm and soothing. The carefully practiced speech of a politician. He studied Jaymee with a silent question in his eyes. This man didn’t miss much. “This young lady’s been through a lot. Let’s give her some leeway. As for your boyfriend, it’s Nick Samuels, isn’t it? The reporter out of Jackson?”
“Yes. Have you met him?”
“No, sadly. Only heard of him, and of course, Joe told me about his abduction. I can assure you my good friend isn’t involved. But do let us know if there’s anything we can help with.” He clapped Stanley on the shoulder, leading him away like an unwilling child.
“That’s why the nurse checked my hands,” Jaymee said. “To find out if I set it myself. I was still half out of it, but she made a show of swabbing my hands. She bagged the swabs and said something about tests. I bet the police had her look for traces of gas or something.”
“Well, they won’t find anything,” Dani said. “So let’s not worry about it. I want to know why the CEO of Norton was schmoozing it up at Delta Correctional.”
“You’re forgetting something, remember? The guard said Booth’s an ex-senator, and he and Stanley go way back.” Jaymee quickly told Dani about the picture. “He’s not from Mississippi, but still, that’s why Asher’s up his ass. And why the man’s got so much power.”
In the southeast, the red flames danced higher, merging with the thick, black smoke unfurling across the sky and creeping into the thicket of trees beyond town. The threatened acreage contained swampland, and Jaymee hoped it would slow down the blaze. A thick haze consumed downtown, tinged with the smell of smoke and burnt wood. The sound of distant sirens continued as if on a loop.
Jaymee didn’t want the town to burn. She didn’t want the animals to die, and she didn’t want the damage to spread to Natchez. But she could barely muster more than cursory worry. Nick could be in the fire’s path, helpless.
Or he could be dead, dumped somewhere like Cage’s sister. It might take weeks to find him. And if the fire got to his body…
She wrapped her tired arms around her chest as if the pressure could stop the rapid palpitations of her heart. Anguish threaded its way through her making her limbs soft. She swayed against Dani.
“Let’s go get Mutt and head to Ironwood.” Dani’s arms steadied her.
“I should stay at Magnolia, in case Nick comes home.”
“Honey, he’ll know where to find you. And Ironwood is three miles farther away from the fire.”
“I need to get the box of fakes Nick left,” Jaymee said. “And some clothes. And any important paperwork.” For the first time, she realized Magnolia House might burn. “I should call the prison, get a message to Penn. Magnolia’s his family home. If there’s anything he wants me to save…” The words caught.
“We’ll do that.” Dani guided her to the car.
Jaymee’s movements were placid, her limbs numb with fear. In the parking lot, a sleek Mercedes glided past them. Wyatt Booth nodded, the gentlemanly gesture combating the stern set of his jaw and the hard look in his eyes. Joseph Stanley drove. He clenched the wheel and didn’t look Jaymee’s way.
“We need to find out about Wyatt Booth,” Jaymee said. “Something’s not right with that man.”
“He’s a rich politician.” Dani started the truck. “Of course there’s something wrong with him.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know. We’ll get word to Cage and Gina, let them see what they can do. You need to rest.”
“I can’t rest while Nick’s out there!” Jaymee’s voice rose to a shout. “How can I just pretend he’s not missing, and we really have no clue who took him?”
“You don’t. Let’s just get what we need from the house and then go to Ironwood. You rest for a few hours. Eat something. And then we’ll sit down and make a list of everything we know. Figure out a plan, okay?”
Jaymee clung to the idea. A plan was good. A plan meant some sort of control, a gauge to measure her emotions. An ambulance rushed out of the emergency bay followed by a police car. The fire climbed higher.
For the first time in a long time, Jaymee braced her elbows on her knees and steepled her hands. She pressed her lips against her fingers, her words hushed.
“Dear God. Wherever you are, whoever you are, and whatever you think of me, please save Nick. And Roselea. Bring them both to safety.”
The fire raged across the sky, and Jaymee kept praying.
NICK
J
esus Christ, I’m
cold. I remember falling in the creek now. Half out of it when I was pulled from his truck, stumbling, trying to run. My clothes are soaked, my shoe came off, and my socks are thin. This closet or room or whatever is cold. Which means I’m probably below ground. It’s too hot to be anywhere else. But I still shouldn’t be this cold. What if I get pneumonia stuck in this dark place? He hasn’t killed me yet. Will he help?
There are shelves above me. I discovered them when I tried to stand and smacked my head. They’re empty and bolted to the wall. My ribs hurt so badly I had to sit back down. I don’t think I could fight right now even if I had the chance.
Sometimes I hear the hum of something, almost like a refrigerator. And sometimes I hear a weird groaning. As if the building is shifting but more than that. I don’t understand it, but every time I hear it, my insides freeze.
CAGE
C
age wasted the
better part of the last five years regretting not leaving Roselea. Jealous of his sister’s freedom in the big city and resentful of his parents’ need for him to stay behind, Cage hated this town sometimes. Every antebellum and tourist hotspot represented a loathsome burden he’d never be rid of. Some days he wished for the entire town to be leveled by a natural disaster, wiping his slate clean. Memories too. Easier to deal with losing everything that way. But his disdain changed with maturity and the understanding he was the only person responsible for his lousy attitude. Gradually, like the pluck of the guitar he’d never managed to learn how to properly tune, he grew to appreciate the town.