Jed Had to Die Page 4

  “Payton?” Emma Jo calls from the living room worriedly.

  I lean back around the open door so she can see me, my eyes locked on Hot Guy, who I will now refer to as Hot Guy Creepy Stalker, as I answer her.

  “Emma Jo, call the police. That guy from the hospital followed us here and stole a sheriff’s uniform,” I explain, bringing my weapon up higher and pointing it at his face.

  The face, while still incredibly good-looking, wears a smirk and isn’t the least bit scared that I could shove this thing through his heart if I so choose. You know, if his chest wasn’t all muscly and made of steel. And he didn’t have at least five inches on me and a hundred pounds.

  “You mean Hot Guy? The one with the super hero chest and cute dimples?” Emma Jo yells to me.

  Hot Guy Creepy Stalker actually has the nerve to laugh.

  “Super hero chest?” he asks with another damn smirk.

  “You shut your mouth. You’re not allowed to laugh when you’re a stalker and I’m the one holding a weapon.”

  With a raise of one eyebrow, he points to the gun on his holster by his hip and the Taser on his other hip, and then pulls a can of mace out of a front compartment of the holster, holding it up for me to see before quietly sliding it back in place.

  “Ha! And that’s how I know you’re not really with the sheriff’s department. The worst crime that’s ever happened here in a hundred years was when Billy Snyder got drunk on homemade moonshine and accidentally shot his foot. Nice try there, slick,” I state smugly.

  “Actually, I had to use the Taser three days ago when Mr. Snell wouldn’t stop kicking his cows,” Hot Guy Creepy Stalker informs me.

  Damn, that chest looks even better in uniform than it did in a tight t-shirt. And those arms…they could crack a watermelon in half. He looks more like a stripper cop than an actual man in law enforcement.

  “Mr. Snell was kicking his cows? PRINCIPAL Snell?” I ask distractedly, forcing myself to look away from how his uniform sleeves tighten around the thickness of his biceps when he crosses his arms in front of him.

  Jethro Snell was the principal when Emma Jo and I were in school. He was always nice and I have a hard time picturing him doing something like this out on his farm at the edge of town, even if it has been twelve years since I saw him last.

  “He retired six years ago. And he said the cows wouldn’t stop looking at him funny. I’m assuming this was a result of the same homemade moonshine,” Hot Guy who is hotter than earlier, but still falling under creepy stalker territory no matter how much the low rumble of his voice makes my low parts feel rumbly. “Can you put the weapon down now?”

  He looks over my shoulder and the amusement on his face drops like a lead balloon. His eyes narrow and his arms slowly uncross and drop to his sides, his hands clenching into fists.

  “Jesus Christ,” he mumbles through clenched teeth. “You were on your side facing away when I stopped in earlier and I didn’t see…that son of a bitch…”

  I’m confused for a minute when he speaks until I hear Emma Jo sigh softly from behind me and realize she must have walked up when we were discussing Principal Mayford kicking his cattle and Hot Guy Creepy Stalker got a look at her face.

  “See? It wasn’t a dream. He really was in your hospital room this morning,” I tell Emma Jo triumphantly. “Wait, that means you are friends with a Ho-,”

  I stop myself from finishing that statement, but Emma Jo kindly does it for me with no regard whatsoever to my well-being.

  “Hot Guy? Yes, if I thought of him like that, I guess you could say I’m friends with a hot guy. Or actually, your Hot Guy.” She smiles, reaching around me and taking the award from my hands to set it on a small table next to the door. “I can’t believe this is who you wouldn’t shut up about all morning. And in the car on the way home. And all night tonight.”

  She laughs again and shakes her head at me.

  “She’s exaggerating,” I explain to him, not at all jealous that Emma Jo is friends with him and the smile he gives her is soft and sweet, when the one he gave me was cocky, bordering on irritating.

  “You called him chesty and muscly,” Emma Jo reminds me with another laugh, wrapping her arm around my shoulder and giving me a squeeze when I shoot her a dirty look.

  “Don’t forget cute dimples,” Hot Creepy Stalker Guy, who shall now be referred to as Rude and Annoying Hot Guy, adds with a wink at me.

  “There is still a pointy weapon within my reach and I’ve had a lot of wine tonight, buddy. There’s no telling where I might shove that thing if you keep provoking me,” I threaten him, giving him the sweetest smile I can manage as I glance down between his legs so he knows exactly what part of his body I’m threatening right now.

  “My eyes are up here, honey. First, you won’t stop touching my chest at the hospital, and now, you’re picturing me naked. I don’t remember you being this flirty.”

  My mouth drops open with a gasp and I stomp my foot like a toddler.

  “I was NOT picturing you naked! I was threatening your manhood, get it right. And how would you remember anything about me? You don’t even know me!” I fire at him, trying to sound indignant and not like I was absolutely wondering what other kind of weapon he was packing behind the zipper of his pants.

  “Wait a minute, you really don’t know who this is? I thought you guys were just messing around,” Emma Jo says in confusion, looking back and forth between the scowl on my face and the stupid cocky smirk on Rude and Annoying Hot Guy.

  “It’s okay, Emma Jo. I look a little different, and Payton here is, what? Forty, forty-one now? I’m sure her mind isn’t what it used to be.”

  “Oh, that’s it! You’re definitely getting stabbed in the crotch with a glass triangle!” I shout, lunging for the side table as Emma Jo tightens her hold on me and keeps me from being able to reach it.

  “Alright, that’s enough you two,” Emma Jo scolds. “Payton, this is Leo. Leo Hudson, from school. Remember? He was two years ahead of us. He graduated with…”

  She stops before she can say Jed’s name and my anger over the age comment quickly fades when I see her eyes fill with tears.

  “Anyway, you remember Leo, right? Didn’t you used to tutor her in math?” she asks quickly, blinking away the tears as when she looks away from me and at…

  LEO HUDSON?! Nope. No way. Not buying it.

  “You…you’re…you…” I stammer, unable to spit any other words out as I look him up and down from head-to-toe.

  Leo Hudson was scrawny and a Dungeons and Dragons nerd. He had long hair and acne, and while it’s true he gave up a lot of his free time after he graduated to come back and tutor (me being his most trying student since Geometry and I hated each other with a fiery burning passion), there is no way I can believe the guy standing in front of me right now is the same person.

  “I believe the words you’re looking for are Hot Guy and muscly,” Leo says with a satisfied smile, “but you can call me Sheriff Hudson.”

  Emma Jo shifts me out of the doorway and pushes the door open wider, inviting Leo to come inside. I remain mute as he gives her a nod and moves into the house, going right into the kitchen opposite the living room. I watch as he walks to the fridge and pulls it open, grabbing a bottle of water like he owns the place.

  “Why don’t you go take a shower and relax and I’ll talk to Leo?” Emma Jo suggests.

  I move my angry glare away from Leo, who casually leans against the kitchen counter drinking his water, and glance down at myself.

  Shit. Of COURSE I’m still wearing the same clothes I’ve been in for a day and a half and God only knows what I smell like right now. That’s twice Leo has seen me looking like ass and dammit, why do I care? So what if he’s no longer the scraggly nerd from high school and looks like he just stepped off a calendar for hot men in uniform? He called me old and he’s an arrogant jerk.

  Emma Jo gives me a pat on the back and walks over to the kitchen, stopping when she gets close to Leo. I wat
ch quietly as he sets his water on the counter and brings his hand up to her chin, gently turning her face from one side to the other as he examines the damage. He leans in to her and they start talking quietly and easily, with a familiarity that absolutely does NOT make me jealous.

  Dammit.

  Instead of heading upstairs to take a shower, I walk right out through the still-open front door and down the steps of the porch to get some fresh air. Standing in the middle of the yard, I close my eyes and tilt my head back, taking a few deep breaths.

  Right when I finally start to feel calm and like I don’t want to march back inside and smack the smirk off of Leo Hudson’s face, I feel something warm and wet splash against my bare foot. My eyes fly open and I look down, screaming and cursing at the tiny little dog that just pissed on me as I shake my foot in disgust. All of a sudden, he starts barking his fool head off, his whole body trembling in rage with each yap that comes out of his mouth. I’m not afraid of dogs; in fact, I love dogs and if I didn’t live in the city and I had a yard for one to run in, I would have bought one a long time ago. But this thing, it’s not a dog. It’s an overgrown rat with a Donald Trump comb-over and crazy eyes that are popping out of its head with the exertion of his barks. I’m afraid to move in case he decides to lift his leg and pee on me again or use his tiny, razor sharp teeth to eat my toes.

  “Bo Jangles! That’s enough now. You go on home to Starla,” Leo scolds from behind me.

  The dog immediately stops barking, tucks his tail between his legs and takes off running.

  “THAT’S RIGHT, YOU UGLY LITTLE RAT DOG! RUN AWAY BEFORE I PUNT YOUR SCRAWNY, FOOT-PISSING ASS INTO A TREE!” I shout, throwing my middle finger up at the scurrying dog just for good measure.

  Turning around, I stomp back toward the house and ignore Leo standing on the porch, leaning against the railing with a smile on his face. I pound my urine-soaked bare feet up the steps and don’t bother looking in his direction as I walk past him.

  “You’re not even going to say thank you?”

  “Screw you,” I mutter, walking back into the house.

  “Don’t you mean, ‘Screw you, Hot Guy?’” Leo shouts with amusement in his voice.

  I make a detour into the living room when I hear his booted feet clomp inside behind me, snatch the bottle of wine from the coffee table, and point the same finger at him that I did Bo Jangles before heading up the stairs, stomping my feet extra loudly as I go.

  CHAPTER 6

  Recorded Interview

  June 2, 2016

  Bald Knob, KY Police Department

  Deputy Lloyd: Sorry to bring you back in here. I just needed to ask you a few more questions.

  Bettie Lake: Wow, Payton was right. Sheriff Hudson is pretty hot. Why isn’t he interviewing me?

  Deputy Lloyd: He’s lived here all of his life and it was decided that it’s best if someone impartial did these interviews. I just moved here a few months ago. So, let’s get started, okay?

  Bettie Lake: Okay fine, shoot! Sorry, I didn’t mean to say shoot. Is that a bad thing to say when we’re talking about a man that was murdered? Shit. Was he shot? Am I in trouble?

  Deputy Lloyd: No, he wasn’t shot. Just try to relax, okay? I’m only trying to put some pieces together so you have nothing to be nervous about. On the night of the murder, the phone records we received show that you and Miss. Lambert spoke to each other a few hours earlier. Did the two of you speak about the victim?

  Bettie Lake: We mostly talked about how hot Sheriff Hudson is. She compared him to Thor.

  Deputy Lloyd: *Muffled coughing and laughing*

  Bettie Lake: Seriously, it’s uncanny. Same color hair, same color eyes, same uber-muscles. No wonder she never shuts up about him. I mean, you’re no slouch yourself, Deputy, you’re just not my type.

  Deputy Lloyd: Ma’am, please answer the question.

  Bettie Lake: What was the question again? Sorry, I was distracted by Thor…I mean Sheriff Hudson’s muscles. I asked him if I could touch them. Is that the real reason why he didn’t want to interview me?

  Deputy Lloyd: Miss Lake, I just need to know if you and Miss Lambert spoke about the victim during the phone call you two had right before he was murdered.

  Bettie Lake: Well, she told me about what he’d been doing to his wife all these years. And about how Sheriff Hudson was being all sweet and making googly eyes with the wife that night when he stopped over to have her fill out the restraining order. Payton was really jealous about that. She wouldn’t admit it, but I could tell. I know my friend. I told her to apologize to him for being a snob. Did you know he was a total dork in high school? I’m talking Dungeons and Dragons meetings every Wednesday night.

  Deputy Lloyd: Miss Lake, I can’t discuss personal things during an official interview. So Miss Lambert told you about the alleged abuse?

  Bettie Lake: Alleged? Really? Does everyone in this town smoke crack? I’m pretty sure Emma Jo didn’t punch herself in the face, dislocate her own shoulder, or crack two of her ribs.

  Deputy Lloyd: According to her medical records, Mrs. Jackson was prone to accidents.

  Bettie Lake: Yes, sure, accidents. She accidentally fell into her husband’s fist. Five times.

  Deputy Lloyd: Miss Lake, I’m not here to make any judgments about what happened before the murder. I’m just trying to get the facts straight so we can solve this and let the people of Bald Knob sleep a little easier at night.

  Bettie Lake: I hope all you morons stay awake for the rest of your lives. Honestly, you elected a wife abuser as your mayor for how many years in a row? It’s a good thing my family doesn’t live here. They’re in the sanitation business, if you catch my drift. They would have killed that guy years ago if he was my husband.

  Deputy Lloyd: Ma’am, I’m going to need you to make me a list of all your relatives and their contact information.

  Bettie Lake: That was a joke! I swear, I’m just kidding. I mean, Uncle Stewart is technically the manager of Chicago Streets and Sanitation, and there was that one time he accidentally threw a cat into the back of his garbage truck, but he didn’t know the thing was still alive and he bought the family a new kitten to make up for it. He wouldn’t kill anyone, even if I asked.

  Deputy Lloyd: When we went through your phone records, we found a text from you to your Uncle Stewart, asking him how easy it would be to dispose of a body.

  Bettie Lake: Why isn’t there a sarcasm font for text messages? Honesty, how has no one invented this? Do I need a lawyer yet?

  CHAPTER 7

  I’m not really a bitch without coffee. Just kidding! Go fuck yourself.

  —Coffee Mug

  “Tell me again about his muscles.”

  I hear Bettie sigh through the speaker of my phone and roll my eyes as I unwind the towel from my head and toss it onto the bed.

  “Did you hear anything I said? I’m in a crisis here,” I complain in irritation, scooping up the phone from next to my discarded towel and pacing at the foot of the bed.

  “Sorry, I stopped listening after you said this guy has a chest carved from marble.”

  “One of my oldest friends has been abused by her husband pretty much since the day they got married, and you can’t stop thinking about Leo the jerk,” I mutter.

  “You know your voice gets all breathy when you say his name? You kind of sound like a phone sex operator. Does he have dimples? What about his hair? Tell me he has a man-bun…” Bettie trails off with another lustful sigh.

  I came upstairs to take a shower and hide in the spare bedroom until Leo left and I still can’t escape him. It’s bad enough Emma Jo has knocked on the door to check on me twice, having her own fun at my expense by telling me through the closed door that it was so cute how flustered I got around the man. I don’t need this shit from Bettie, too.

  “You’re annoying. I called to check on the shop and get some advice, and now I’m regretting it. You suck at this,” I scold, stopping in front of the mirror hanging above the dresser
to stare at my reflection.

  Even make-up free with wet hair draping over my shoulders, it’s a much better improvement than earlier. I no longer look like a hooker in a gang bang with mascara smudged halfway down my cheeks, my stained and dirty clothes have been thrown in the trash and replaced with a tank top and shorts, and I don’t smell like the piss of Bo Jangles, the dog from hell. Why couldn’t Leo show up now when I actually look halfway decent?

  “You didn’t call for advice. You called so I’d agree with you about how annoying Hot Guy was and make you feel like less of an asshole because it was totally fine for you to drool over some random Chesty McChesterson, but now that you know he’s the nerd you knew from high school, you think it’s appalling to be hot for him,” Bettie informs me.

  “That’s not it at all!” I argue. “I don’t care if he was a complete weirdo in high school. I care that he’s a now cocky jerk of an adult who most likely has the hots for my best friend. You should have seen the way he looked at her and spoke to her, all sweet and gentle. I mean, she’s a married woman! Sure, she’s married to an abusive tool, but still.”

  Bettie laughs through the line.

  “And you should hear the way you’re talking right now. You’re jealous!”

  “I am NOT jealous! I just think it’s indecent for the town sheriff to be mooning over a married woman,” I reply indignantly, wishing I would have Facetimed her so she’d see the stink-eye I’m currently aiming at my phone.

  “You’re totally jealous, nice try. From what you told me, it sounds like he was all sweet and gentle with you too, until you didn’t recognize him. Talk about a blow to a man’s ego. You’re lucky Bo Jangles is the only one who pissed on your leg. If I was a dude and some woman I had a crush on in high school came back to town, I would have lifted my leg and pissed all over you myself for not knowing who I was,” Bettie says with another laugh.

  Okay, so I may or may not have known back in school that Leo had a big crush on me, and I may or may not have completely ignored it and did my best not to hurt his feelings back then. I even stuck up for him when Jed and his jock friends would pick on him, and this is the thanks I get?