wrong with flowers for some girls, like my mother. And maybe you, but the guys at the racetrack would never let me live it down.”
Roni’s hands stilled with her task. “You race?”
“Sometimes. It can be hard to be taken seriously as a girl behind the wheel.”
“Tell me about it,” Roni agreed with a smirk. “I’m co-owner of a track and it can be tough. What do you race?”
“I’m in the process of reconstructing a Beat roadster for my next car. Or I was up until I smashed at the end of your driveway. I’m more of a spotter for my brother...” Lacey’s voice caught at the mention of Jeffrey. “It was easier when he was home. Without him to vouch for me, I spend most of my days in the shop working on the cars instead. He was my biggest supporter. And now he’s...gone.”
“Where’d he go?” Roni fitted the buttons up the front.
“Army.”
Her hands stilled. “When does he come home next?”
“He’s not coming home. Ever.” Lacey felt her lips tremble as Roni put the words together.
She dropped back. “Oh, Lacey, I’m so sorry.”
Roni sat on the side of the bed, her eyes filled. She gave a quick look toward the door. Lacey knew thoughts of her own brother filled her mind. As much as Lacey wanted to hate the woman for being grateful for not losing Wade when Jeff was gone forever, especially since Wade had a part in Jeff’s death, as he’d admitted to, she couldn’t hate Roni.
“It’s okay if you want to thank God for bringing your brother home. It won’t upset me. From one sister to another, I get it. If Jeffrey had survived, I would be jumping for joy, no matter who watched.” She looked at her injured arm. “And I definitely wouldn’t have been here getting shot at on Christmas Eve. I guess I shouldn’t have come. Once again, my mother was right, and I failed to heed her wise teachings. Why is thinking things through so hard?”
“I don’t understand.” Roni tilted her head.
Lacey shrugged. “I disappoint my mama pretty much every day. I’ll never be like her and think like her.”
“No. I mean, how would your brother coming home from the army have prevented you from being shot?”
“Oh, easy. Because I wouldn’t have come here looking for his killer.”
Roni’s long lashes lifted high. “His killer is here?”
Wade appeared in the doorway with an older man, halting Lacey from explaining further about Wade’s involvement.
Lacey considered blurting out the truth anyway. She looked at the men, but before she opened her mouth, her mother’s annoying voice filled her mind. Think before you speak, Lacey, dear. Her thick Southern drawl with its inflection of disappointment came through loud and clear.
Lacey held her tongue and looked at Wade. His searing eyes said he waited for her to make her decision, too. Would she take the opportunity to spill his secret in front of his sister and whoever the older man beside him was? Their dad, probably.
Seconds ticked by as the three people stared at the poor wounded girl.
Poor being the operative word. Wade Spencer was loaded. Which meant he could buy his way out of any case brought against him. She didn’t stand a chance of getting her answers from Mr. Secrets the legit way.
Her hand went to her neck and fiddled with the key clasped there beneath the flowered blouse. She’d put it on her chain when she removed it from her brother’s envelope yesterday. This key would unlock the answers she came for.
And Wade Spencer would be the one to give them to her.
Lacey turned away from Wade to answer Roni. “Jeff’s killer is around somewhere. He can’t hide forever.”
* * *
“What a way to spend Christmas Eve, wouldn’t you say, Miss Phillips?” The older gentleman Lacey had thought was Wade’s father, but turned out to be an uncle, entered the room again. Wade and Roni were seeing the lawmen out, so that left her alone for the time being.
“It’s Lacey, and I’m sorry I messed up your holiday. You must think I’m so rude coming here tonight.”
When the police had questioned her earlier, Wade’s uncle had leaned against the wall and heard why she’d made this trip. She’d left out the part of Wade’s confession, but told them about her brother’s so-called accident in the army and how she’d come to talk to her brother’s friend.
The uncle stepped up to where Lacey sat on the edge of the bed. He offered his hand for a warm shake. “Clay Spencer. The kids’ dad, Bobby, was my little brother. And don’t you worry about what we think. You’re hurting. We all feel your pain and frustration, especially with your car being taken in to be processed as evidence. You probably won’t make it back for Christmas dinner with your family.”
The realization lifted her chin. The older man offered a sweet, supportive smile as though he understood her dilemma, but he also wore a very nice suit with a festive holiday tie and a red silk handkerchief in his breast pocket. He’d come here tonight to spend Christmas Eve with his family, and she had intruded.
Lacey cringed at her impulsiveness to jump into her car and head north without any thought to what day she would be arriving on Wade Spencer’s doorstep. What had she thought he would do? Welcome her in to celebrate with his family?
No. The fact was she didn’t think at all. At least nothing but what she’d come for.
“You stay as long as you need to,” the uncle invited warmly.
Lacey gave a weak laugh. “You seem to have a better grasp at this hospitality thing than this Southern girl does.”
The man smiled big. “I do love a good party, and the more the merrier. But seriously, the kids have plenty of room. Plus, I don’t think Wade’s going to let you go anywhere tonight. He told the chief of police he would take care of getting you home. He feels responsible for you since this incident happened on his family’s property.”
“This gigantic place is his family’s?”
“Technically his and Veronica’s, Roni’s, now. They lost their parents years ago. Only Roni lives here, though. Wade lives on base in Virginia. He’s only home for the holidays. I used to live here after their parents died, but once Veronica was of age, I moved to the empty caretaker’s house on the pond, a little ways into the property, then eventually I moved into town. Let’s just say Veronica and I don’t always get along, even in ten thousand square feet. Even on thousands of acres. Moving off the property was best. Besides, I like it better in town. Great house for social gatherings with my friends. And speaking of friends, I have a few in influential places who might be able to help you uncover some information about your brother.”
“What kind of friends?”
“Lawyers, politicians, PIs, you name it. One can never have too many circles, I say. I’m sure one of them could look into the possibility of a cover-up.”
A
