T.J. rolled his eyes. “Evidently.”
“You dated her for a while. You don’t mind talking to him for me?
“Of course not. It was just a couple of casual dates when she first moved back. I haven’t taken her out in months.”
“Well, in that case, yes, that would be helpful, son. See what Mack says about us doing something like that. If he doesn’t like it, then of course we won’t.”
“I’ll go right now,” T.J. said, leaving the room as quickly as he’d entered.
T.J. knew he would most likely see Lissa, which was the main reason he’d been so willing to help out. He knew she wouldn’t like it, but if the boyfriend took offense at his presence and it caused a little trouble between them, he wouldn’t care. In fact, he would like it.
* * *
Lissa sat up in bed long enough to eat a little of the breakfast on her tray and part of the honey bun Mack had bought for her last night, but before long she gave up and quit. Sitting up made her dizzy, and her head was throbbing with every beat of her heart. As she lay there with her eyes closed, willing the bed to stop spinning, she thought of all the years and all the pro football games she’d watched. She couldn’t remember how many times she’d heard an announcer say something offhand about a player being pulled from the game because of a concussion, and never once had she thought about what that actually meant. Now she knew.
She could hear Mack in her bathroom and knew he was changing clothes. Earlier he’d called Cain and asked him to bring clean clothes from the house. Now Cain was on his way back to Summerton, and Mack was within the sound of her voice. There wasn’t anything left for her to worry about but getting well.
“Well, Liss, you do get yourself into the damnedest situations. That bruise looks downright miserable. Is there anything I can get you?”
Lissa refused to open her eyes. “T.J.?”
“Yes, it’s me, hon.”
“Why, yes, there is something I need. Would you please go into the bathroom and bring me a wet cloth for my head?”
T.J. blinked, a little startled that she was actually being cordial, and his Southern gentleman manners kicked right in.
“I’d be happy to,” he said.
Three steps to the left and the doorknob was in his hand. He thought he heard something on the other side, but by the time it registered that someone was in there, he’d already opened the door. “Uh...”
Dressed, Mack was an imposing man. Bare chested and somewhat pissed off, he was nearly scary, especially to T.J., whose daddy always settled his debts and troubles.
Mack picked up a shirt and walked out of the bathroom, giving T.J. a clear view of the staples in his arm and shoulder.
T.J. shuddered, and then followed Mack back into the room.
“What do you want here?” Mack asked.
The fact was not lost on T.J. that Mack was standing in front of Lissa’s bed like a guard dog. It was time for him to behave himself.
“Mack, I apologize if my appearance here seems like I’m overstepping my bounds, but I assure you I mean no harm. I’m actually here to speak to you at my father’s request.”
Mack’s eyes narrowed. T.J. was a couple of years younger than he was, but they’d never liked each other as kids, and getting older hadn’t changed things in any way. “If your father needed to speak to me, why didn’t he come himself?”
T.J. could feel this whole visit slipping away, and he also realized that Lissa had delivered him to the guard dog without a qualm. Even hurt, she was still a bitch.
T.J. smiled. “Well, I knew he was busy and I offered—”
Mack’s eyes narrowed even farther. “When he gets un-busy, tell him to give me a call.”
T.J. shrugged. “Look, all he wanted to know was if you’d like him to organize your father’s classmates to speak at the funeral services like they did for Dick Phillips’ funeral.”
A chill ran up Mack’s spine. The fact that the two men had been classmates was most likely what had made their murderer target them.
“I’ll be in charge of Dad’s services, but you can thank your father for the offer.”
T.J. reeled like he’d been punched in the face. It took him a couple of seconds to realize no one had moved and he hadn’t been touched.
“Yes, of course. I’ll pass the message on, and you have my sincerest condolences on the loss of your father. Liss, I hope you get well real soon. Y’all take care now.”
T.J. smiled at Mack and walked out, resisting the urge to run.
Mack followed the man far enough to shut the door behind him, then walked back to the bed.
“Liss? He called you Liss?”
She opened her eyes. “That was a blank we just filled in. He asked me out. Three dates. Didn’t like him. Dumped his ass.”
Mack grinned. “That’s my girl. You always did have good taste.”
Lissa started to laugh, and then grabbed her head with both hands and groaned. “Lord, that hurt.”
“Sorry, baby,” Mack said. “Do you still want that wet cloth?”
She laughed again and then moaned. “You heard that, too?”
“I wasn’t sure who it was you were talking to, but since you were sending him straight to me, I guessed you wanted him gone.”
Lissa shuddered. “He gives me the creeps.”
“He’s just a rich daddy’s boy. You take it easy, honey. I need to finish dressing before your doctor comes by,” he said before going back into the bathroom.
* * *
Pinky’s Monday morning was far different from what she’d planned when Louis had dropped her off at the motel. Instead of taking a bus out of town, she was driving her son’s truck back to his house. There was a key to the front door on the ring, and when she went in, she was startled to see the little dog standing in the hall.
“Oh, hell. Bobo. I know you need out.”
The little dog made a beeline for the back door. She let him out, and then grabbed a handful of paper towels and went through the house, certain she would find dog pee or poop everywhere, but there was just one little puddle beside the bed.
She wiped it up, then dug around in the kitchen until she found his kibble, and filled his food and water bowls before letting him in.
Bobo came bouncing in, then sniffed the air with a hopeful look in his eyes.
Pinky guessed what that meant. Tears welled. “He’s not coming back, dog. Sorry.”
Bobo looked at her, then walked over to his bowl, lapped up a little water and lay down beside the food with his chin on his paws.
She could tell he was sad. Well, so was she.
She headed for the bedroom where Louis had said the will would be located and dug through a conglomeration of boxes before she found the lockbox. She was a little stunned by the thoroughness with which Reece had covered his bases. She didn’t even notice that she was still thinking of them as separate people.
The will would have to go through probate before she could claim Reece’s estate, even though she was named as sole heir, and she would have to bury his body. But the more she thought about it, the more she decided not to bury him at all. She would have him cremated. She would figure out later how to dispose of the ashes. All she knew was that she wasn’t taking him back to where her husband and little boy were buried. She didn’t think her little Louis would appreciate spending eternity beside the person who’d killed him.
She found the computer and nearby a copy of the lease, and she was sitting on the side of the bed reading it—relieved to see that the rent had already been paid for the next couple of weeks—when Bobo trotted in. She saw movement from the corner of her eye and looked over just as the little dog plopped down beside her. Its long, heartfelt sigh broke her heart. The poor little thing was grieving. She leaned down and tentatively patted the top of its head, and was surprised by how soft the fur was beneath her fingertips.
“I guess you’re not so bad,” she mumbled, and then she got up and started going through the dresser drawers, making sure she didn’t leave anything important behind when she left.
When she found an extra set of car keys she dropped them in her pocket. As she did, it occurred to her that she needed to get another driver’s license. She hadn’t had a car in so long that she’d just let it lapse, but she still used her old one for a photo ID. Might as well find out what she needed to do to get a new one while she was here.
By the time noon rolled around she was in the kitchen making a meal from more leftovers.
“Bits and pieces,” she said, trying not to cry as she stirred some peas and carrots into leftover gravy, chopped up a piece of cold fried chicken she’d found, stirred it into the mix, scooped some mashed potatoes out of a storage container and spread them on top for a crust and put it in the oven to heat. “Shepherd’s pie, but with chicken not beef. Louis would have liked it,” she added. Then she set a timer and went into the living room to wait.
She turned on the TV and then stared absently at the screen without registering what was playing. She heard a thump, and noticed Bobo had jumped up on the sofa and was sitting on the cushion at the far end, watching her intently. She had to admit the terrier’s fuzzy face was sort of cute, and when she looked closer, she imagined his dark beady eyes were full of tears.