Last Kiss Goodbye. Rita Herron
Matt said, meeting A.J.’s glare head-on. “Just a few hours ago.”
“You’re here one day and now this?”
A.J. gestured toward the bloody writing, then shifted on the balls of his feet. “Do you have any idea who did this, ma’am?”
Ivy shook her head. “No…”
“Why would someone want to hurt you?” A.J. asked.
“I don’t know,” Ivy said quietly.
A.J. hesitated, then turned on that charming smile. The ladies’ man was back. “If you don’t tell me the truth, I can’t help you.”
A heartbeat of silence stretched through the room. The question stood in the air—should she confess the truth about her identity? Could she trust the sheriff to keep her secret?
Could he help her if she didn’t?
Matt refrained from offering advice. He didn’t trust anyone in this town. Including her.
And A.J. wanted Ivy. That much was evident, at least to him. But he couldn’t tell her that. After all, her personal life was none of his business.
“My real name is Ivy Stanton,” she said. “I came here under the pen name I use in my magazine.”
Realization quickly flared in A.J.’s eyes. “I see. So no one else in Kudzu Hollow knows who you really are?”
“Not that I know of. And I’d like to keep it that way for a while.”
“Probably wise. It’s a small town. Gossip spreads fast.”
Matt grimaced. And friendships died quickly. A.J. frowned. “How long have you been in town, Miss Stanton?”
“About a week.”
He gestured around the cabin. “Is there anything missing?”
Ivy bit her lip. “I…I haven’t really checked.”
“Look around and see.” A.J. strode back to the door and checked the lock, while Ivy began to search the room. “There’s no sign of forced entry. Did you leave the cabin unlocked?”
“No.”
Matt assessed the cabin, too, watching A.J. Essentially, the rental unit consisted of one big room, sparsely furnished. An iron bed dominated the center, with an old-fashioned quilt in green and rose covering it. A simple pine dresser sat in one corner, a desk in the opposite. A breakfast bar separated the small kitchen nook from the den. Across from the bed a small sitting area held a sofa and chair situated around a ceiling-high stone fireplace. Built-in bookshelves held a few paperback novels, a small TV set and a stereo. The floors were made of heart of pine, the walls the same, making the room dark and cozy. Except the “present” Ivy had received had destroyed the relaxing atmosphere.
“I don’t see anything missing,” she said after checking the closet.
A.J. took a quick run through the cabin. “The window’s open in the bathroom. My guess is that’s how the guy got in and out.”
Ivy sighed. “I…I don’t know if this is related or not, but in town earlier, a car sideswiped me after I left the diner. I…thought it was just some teenagers, or maybe a drunk leaving the bar.”
Matt’s instincts roared to life. Twice in one night, something strange had happened to Ivy. Someone definitely knew her identity, and didn’t want her here.
A.J. gently stroked her arm as if to comfort her. “Are you all right? Were you hurt?”
Ivy pulled away. “I’m fine, but the driver damaged my car.”
“Did you get the make of the vehicle or see anyone inside?” A.J. asked.
“No, it all happened so fast. The windows were tinted, and it was raining,” Ivy whispered. “I did file a report with your deputy for insurance purposes.”
“So you had to give your name?” Matt asked.
Ivy twitched, shifting uncomfortably, but nodded.
Matt gestured toward the wall, irritated that A.J. was so close to Ivy, although he had no idea why it irked him so. “Are you going to collect blood samples to have tested?”
A.J.’s mouth twisted. “Yeah. And I’ll take some pictures, too.”
“Do you send them away to a crime lab?” Matt asked.
A.J. grunted. “Are you questioning my abilities as a law enforcement agent, Matt?”
“No,” he replied. “But proper testing is crucial. After all, faulty DNA evidence sent me to jail.”
“Is that right?” A.J. asked with an eyebrow raise.
Matt’s cold gaze met his former friend’s. “If you don’t believe me, you can look at the transcripts. And hell, test my damn blood. It won’t match that smear on the wall.”
“Don’t worry. I will.”
Matt glared at him. Was this the way he’d be treated the rest of his life?
Every time a crime took place, no matter how petty, the cops would suspect him first.
IVY DIDN’T UNDERSTAND the dynamics, but tension simmered in the air as the sheriff retrieved his camera and a crime scene kit from the car. Tension between her and Matt. And between him and the sheriff.
“I’m going to call the owner of the cabins,” Matt said. “He should know about this.”
“She’ll need another room,” A.J. said. “This is a crime scene now.”
Ivy nodded. Still shaken, she slumped into the rocking chair in the corner and watched as the sheriff photographed the wall, then took a sample of the blood, and dusted the wall, doorknobs, the bathroom windowsill, even the phone for fingerprints.
Matt remained silent, having perched on one of the bar stools as if he intended to supervise A.J.’s investigation. Miss Nellie’s warning echoed back: Don’t go to Kudzu Hollow. It’s too dangerous.
It was dangerous only if someone still had secrets. If the person who’d really killed her parents had gotten away with it and didn’t want her back.
Which meant Matt was innocent, as the judge had decreed.
Ivy massaged her temple where a headache pulsed. Finally, just as the sheriff finished the fingerprinting, Cliff appeared. He looked haggard and upset at the sight of the blood on the wall. When he saw the chicken’s head, he staggered on his feet. Matt caught him.
“Are you okay?” Matt asked.
Ivy fanned the man’s face and rushed to get him a glass of water.
“I ain’t had no trouble out here before,” Cliff said in a weak voice. “What’s going on now?”
“I don’t know,” Sheriff Boles replied. “Some prankster kids may have vandalized the room just to stir up trouble. You know how this weather affects them.”
The old man nodded. “I should have moved away from here when my Gertie died. But I couldn’t bear to leave her.”
“Cliff, I need to move to another cabin,” Ivy said.
“Good Lord, yes. I wouldn’t feel right you staying here.” He rubbed a freckled hand over his chin, but his color was improving. “I’ll get a cleaning crew to take care of this mess.” He stood, composing himself. “Let me unlock the cabin on the other side of Mr. Mahoney. I’ll leave the key inside.”
Ivy thanked him and walked him to the door, worried about the man’s health. He was too old for such a shock, but he assured her that he was fine as he toddled outside.
Sheriff Boles’s cell phone jangled, and he flipped it open. “Boles here.” He hesitated. “Yeah.