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“You would be more concerned with the product. Nadine could have been killed. And all you see is money being tossed away.” Her stomach turned. Her savings under her mattress were growing. She needed a little more time. But time was running out, and the walls of the holler were closing in on her.
“Neither of you go anywhere,” Whiskey said.
As Whiskey turned for the bedroom, she called, “Wait.” She held out the ice pack. “She needs this. And a doctor.”
He took the ice pack and left her alone with Greg. He sat on the couch toking, his feet on Nadine’s coffee table, dirt falling off the treads of his boots onto the glass.
She perched on the rocking chair near the windows facing the front yard and rubbed her hands on her thighs.
“You don’t need to be afraid, Ruby. We got ya.”
“Really? Who had Tillie, Darla or Atta? Who had Nadine?”
“We’re looking into it. We got leads.”
“Leads. What, are you pretending to be a cop now? Watch too many crime shows? Maybe we need to cooperate with the federal agents in town.”
Whiskey entered the room, his jaw clenched. “You’re right. She needs a doc. Her ribs are broken, and she can’t breathe. I don’t want her at the medical emergency facility. Not with the feds here. They’ll sniff that out. Ask questions, and I want this sucker for myself.”
“They could catch him. Then be gone. The longer you spin them in circles, the longer they’ll stay. They’re not getting irritated, they’re getting determined.”
Whiskey cocked his head. “Where you hear this? No. Let me guess. Your detective friend.”
“Yes. Regis.”
Whiskey’s nostrils flared. “You talk about the feds as pillow talk late at night? When I said keep him close, I didn’t necessarily mean your bed, Ruby.”
She swallowed hard. “I don’t think when we talk is your business.”
Whiskey stepped into her personal space. “I think everything concerning you has become my business, don’t you?” His voice was quiet. But it made its mark. Reminding her that she didn’t belong to herself. Never had.
Never would.
She wasn’t terrified of Whiskey. He’d never lay a hand to a single hair on her head. That didn’t mean he wasn’t to be feared. Love and fear. How could one do both? She didn’t know. But she did.
“I don’t like any of those feds.” Greg sneered. “Especially that detective with ’em. He’s gonna be a problem. I can feel it.”
Whiskey took out his phone and scrolled through it. “Well, you know how we solve problems.”
“Yes, I do.”
“I do too,” Ruby said as her heart hammered against her ribs. “You can’t touch them. The rest will descend like locusts, and then you’ll never get this killer and he’ll keep killing. Any one of us are fair game. Leave them alone, but give them something. Anything.”
Whiskey put his phone to his ear. “Hey, it’s me. We need a favor. Bring your medical kit. Nadine. Send Chris then if you can’t come.” He ended the call.
“Can’t leave work. He’s gonna call Chris. Now we wait.”
In fifteen minutes, another car pulled into the drive, and Whiskey opened the door to Jimmy Russell, not Chris. He wore his EMS windbreaker and held a black medical bag. His short blond hair was windblown, and his pale blue eyes met Ruby with sympathy. “Are you hurt, Ruby?”
She shook her head. “I wasn’t here. Why are you here?”
“Chris called me. He’s sick. Flu. Where is she?” he asked, his tone soft.
“Back bedroom,” Whiskey said while Greg looked on with glazed eyes. “And I can be sure you’ll be discreet about being here.”
“I won’t say anything.” He proceeded to Nadine.
“I don’t trust him.” Greg stood, arms folded over his chest.
