False Pretenses - Kathy Herman [26]
Pierce came up behind her and put his arms around her, his cheek next to hers. “I didn’t hear the phone ring. What’s wrong, babe?”
She paused, her palm so sweaty she thought the phone might slide out of her hand. “My friend Annabelle—the gal I roomed with when I worked for her parents’ restaurant in Morgan City—died Monday night of viral pneumonia. Her funeral’s tomorrow afternoon. I just can’t believe she’s dead. She was only thirty-seven, same as us. She had a husband and two little kids. It’s just awful.”
“I’m so sorry,” Pierce said. “Who called to tell you?”
“Her brother, Wyatt.” She turned around in Pierce’s arms and gazed into his trusting brown eyes. She had to make him believe her. “He spent a lot of time trying to find me. He knew I’d want to know.”
“That was thoughtful. I heard you say you’ll see him tomorrow. Are you going to the funeral?”
“I think I should. It’s at eleven at Holy Cross Catholic Church in Morgan City. Wyatt asked if I could come out to the house afterward and spend some time with the family. Could you cover for me tomorrow? I know it’s your day off. I hate to ask.”
“Of course I will.” Pierce kissed her cheek. “Do what you need to do. I can handle things here.”
“Thanks. I don’t deserve you.”
“Hey, we’re a team, remember? My turn to carry the ball.”
Zoe blinked the stinging from her eyes. If things went the way she hoped, maybe it would be the last time she had to deceive Pierce like this.
“I hear someone in the hallway,” he said.
“It’s probably the Langleys. They said they’d knock on our door after they got Carter to bed. I want to know what the sheriff had to say.”
Zoe sat next to Pierce on the couch in their apartment and took a sip of sweet tea, listening to Vanessa retell the details of her late-afternoon conversation with Sheriff Jude Prejean and Deputy Stone Castille.
“That’s about it.” Vanessa turned her ear toward the open front door as if she were listening for Carter. “I gave the sheriff the key to Langley Manor, and they were supposed to go out and investigate and get back to us. I’m sure we’ll hear something tomorrow.”
“Did you get the impression,” Pierce said, “that Jude thinks there’s a connection between the intruder at the manor house and the hanging?”
“He wouldn’t say.” Vanessa glanced over at Ethan. “We’re still not sure there even was an intruder at our place. I’m eager to know whether they found DNA on the lemon drop or collected any trace evidence from the closet. I’m more and more suspicious that someone was in the house.”
“I don’t know what to make of the twig incident.” Ethan took Vanessa’s hand. “But I think having the sheriff investigate further is important if we’re ever going to have peace of mind.”
“So do I,” Zoe said.
“Let’s not forget the bigger issue.” Pierce leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees. “The note on the deputy’s windshield was obviously put there to rile the white community. Why? We haven’t had any serious racial unrest in years.”
“The sheriff hasn’t actually confirmed there was a note,” Vanessa said.
“He didn’t deny it either, and he certainly could have—if it wasn’t true.”
Zoe was vaguely aware of Vanessa commenting and Pierce replying, but how could she worry about a lynching when her very future was hanging in the balance? Who was the man following her, and what did he really know? Would she be able to leave town without him following her? If so, would her plan work? What if it backfired and her secret was exposed? Would she be able to face Pierce? Would he even want to see her again—ever?
“Zoe …?”
She heard Pierce saying her name and looked up into his questioning face and realized three set of eyes were on her.
“Sorry, cher. I was thinking about Annabelle. Were you talking to me?”
“I just asked if you wanted more tea.” Pierce’s dark eyes were wide with compassion. He glanced over at the Langleys. “Just before you knocked on the door, Zoe got a call that her friend Annabelle had died. It was