Page 23 of Homicide in Water Creek

With her chin tucked into his neck, she nodded. “Maybe, but I won’t drive a wedge between you and Keene.”

He turned his head to kiss her. “No, he did that all on his own, baby. Jackson doesn’t get a pass either. The two of them deserve each other.”

“You’re just angry right now. Don’t say things you don’t mean just because you’re angry. It’s hard to take them back.”

King lowered her to the ground and held her gaze. “You’re right, but I’m an adult and make my own decisions. The same goes for you. Those two old codgers will have to deal with it.” She tried to speak, but he held up a hand. “We’ll worry about that another day. Let’s finish this statement so we can get some sleep.”

“Agreed. I’ll get the iPad ready while you get Sheriff Jr. ready.”

He winked and headed to the back bathroom to clean up. When he returned to his office, he plunked his sheriff’s hat on his head and flashed her a sexy-ass smile. “Do I look like I’ve been awake for twenty-four hours?”

Jacks drank him in before returning his smile. He looked anything but tired. He’d put on a fresh shirt, combed his hair back into its usual style, and retied his tie. “Your eyes say yes, but the rest of you says yum.” She winked, and he laughed, leaning in to kiss her nose, his hat bumping into her forehead.

“Even as I’m about to give a statement about my dead mother, the woman everyone in this town loved to hate, you can still make me laugh.”

She turned him by the shoulder and directed him to his chair. “Let’s finish it so we can make the town feel bad for loving to hate her.”

King sat, got organized, and nodded. She hit record and pointed at him. “My name is Sheriff Dean King of the Water Creek Sheriff Department. Several days ago, the body of a woman was found in my jurisdiction. We positively identified that woman yesterday as Vonita Anna King. At this time, I have no further statement regarding the circumstances of her death, as the investigation is ongoing. As reported, Vonita is my mother, though she has never been part of my life. The last time she was in Water Creek was thirty years ago. Therefore, I will continue to work this case the same way I do every case that crosses my desk, with a determination to find justice for the victim. Be aware that while I cannot stop reporters from coming to town, I will not allow them to impede the progress of this case or disturb residents.”

Jacks hit stop as he began cleaning up his desk. “Wait. That wasn’t even half of what you were going to say. What about questions directed to your secretary and the like?”

He shrugged, folded his hands on his desk, and held her gaze. “Buttercup, when it comes to this kind of thing, it’s like spitting in the wind. All you can do is hope you don’t get any on you. The reporters will arrive, and the townspeople will run them back out. In the meantime, we keep working the case and don’t get distracted by the shitshow that’s about to erupt.”

Shrugging, Jacks flipped the iPad over and attached the video to his email contacts. “I guess you know best when it comes to this stuff.”

“I do, and because I do, I know there’s one more stop we have to make before we sleep for a few hours.”

King grabbed his coat and slung it on, holding hers out for her. She slid her arms into it until he could bring it up over her shoulders. “Where?”

“The Whistle Wetter.”

“Time to rally the troops and let them in on the shitshow?” she asked, laughter in her voice even at this late hour.

He winked and chucked her under the chin. “Yep. Then I’ll turn a blind eye until the news vans drive back out of Water Creek.”

Water Creek 1

Hollywood 0

Chapter Eleven

The last four days of Jacks’s life had been hideous, to put it mildly. The reporters showed up in force, and despite being thwarted at every turn, they kept trying for three full days before finally packing up their vans and driving out of Water Creek, much to the relief of everyone in town. No one liked Vonita when she lived here, but they sure as hell weren’t going to talk to reporters about her, knowing they would twist their words for a story.

Jacks had spent those days nursing her hurt feelings over what Granddaddy and Keene had done all those years ago. She made sure to finish her ranch chores early, then hung out at the sheriff's department with King, helping him organize the office and field phone calls he was too busy to take. King needed to hire a receptionist, but until he found the time and a willing applicant, she’d decided to help out as much as her schedule allowed. Scary that she’d rather hang out with Dean King than have it out with her granddaddy. Then again, Dean King kept laying those hot kisses on her, which, surprisingly, she wasn’t averse to.

Exhausted from running, Jacks knew there was only one way to fix this, so she knocked on the door of the old farmhouse and waited until she heard Jackson yell for her to come in. She found him at the kitchen table with a beer bottle between his grizzled hands and an unopened can of pop across from him.

Jacks slipped into the seat and popped open the Dr. Pepper. “How did you know I was coming?”

When he finally met her gaze, she saw every one of his sixty-four years etched on his face. “It’s been four days. When you were little and you’d get mad at me, you’d always take four days to forgive me.”

She held up a finger and shook her head. “I haven’t forgiven you.”

“Probably not, but you’re not a kid anymore. I was just hoping the four-day rule still applied and that you’d at least be willing to talk.”

Sipping her pop, she thought back to her childhood. “I never knew I did the four-day thing. I guess I’m more predictable than I thought.”

“Predictable, but smart. You know yourself better than I’ve ever given you credit for. You know that if you wait four days, you’ll be able to discuss it without saying something in anger you can’t take back.”