Ramona Richards - House of Secrets

“Thanks. You don’t look much better yourself.”

“No doubt,” she replied, using one of Ray’s favorite expressions. But she knew the truth as well. She’d skidded when she’d fallen and slipped twice trying to get up. Even with her washed hands and white suit, she had David’s blood in her hair, which had to be topsy-turvy by now. And half of her makeup had shifted dramatically from its original location on her face.

“We still need to test your hair.”

June’s eyes widened in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“The blood. David fought back. Not a lot and not for long, but he could have injured one of his attackers. There may be blood from—”

“One of his attackers?”

Ray hesitated, then nodded. “You saw the footprints on the porch. So we think there were at least two. One went out the back, one through the tunnel. And maybe one of them left his blood here, too.”

June understood where he was going. “And I might have landed in it as well.”

“Another reason I didn’t want you to wash your hands.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s done. But I don’t want to miss another chance. Can you ask April to pick up a change of clothes from your house and meet us at NorthCrest Medical?”

“Why do I need to go to NorthCrest?”

Ray shifted to stand squarely over both feet, then began counting off his reasoning. “A. Because you’re covered in blood, possibly from more than one person. I want you on their records if something…untoward shows up in the blood work.”

“You mean HIV.”

“And hepatitis C. It’s a precaution.”

“I don’t have any open—”

“B. Once the adrenaline subsides, you may find that you’re really hurt somewhere. If you fell like you described, you hit pretty hard.”

“Okay.”

“And C. I’m not letting you out of my sight again until I get you to the station for a complete statement and someone is assigned to watch your house tonight.”

June sat a bit straighter. “Watch my house? You think I’m in danger?”

Ray hesitated. “Depends on whether they believe you saw them leave.”

“But I didn’t—”

“You interrupted the search of the study. They have no idea what you saw. And you’re still my material witness. Don’t argue.”

She stood up, stepping closer and tilting her head back to look up at his face. “What about my car? It has a tricky transmission.”

“Everyone in the county knows your car has a tricky transmission. We’ll leave it here for now. I’ll send it home later with a guy who’s good with a manual.”

“You have to let it warm up at least ten minutes. Then make sure you put it in First before shifting to Reverse or it won’t go anywhere. It has that 435-horsepower, big-block engine. You don’t do it right, you’ll leave half its innards sitting in the road.”

“You should have that fixed.”

“Yeah, but then it wouldn’t be June’s emerald-green 1968 Corvette with the tricky transmission.”

“Notoriety isn’t always a good thing.”

“No such thing as bad publicity.”

“Nothing good about being stranded on the side of the road.”

“Not a bad way to meet new folks in a county like this.”

“June.” He took a step closer until they were toe to toe.

“What?”

“Get it fixed.”

“So you won’t worry about me?”

Ray’s mouth tightened to a thin line, but his eyes glistened a bit. June wasn’t sure if he was going to laugh or yell.

He yelled. But he never took his eyes off hers. “Rivers!”

Daniel came to his side and Ray stepped back from June. “Please call your wife and ask her to bring a change of clothes for June to NorthCrest. We’ll be there in thirty minutes. Radio the station and the hospital that we’re on our way.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And ask Carter to clear that crowd back from the house.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ray held out his hand. “June, I need your keys.”

“They’re in the ignition.”

Ray’s eyes narrowed. “You left the keys in a Corvette?”

“Everybody in the county knows my car, as you just said. Would you steal it?”

Ray didn’t argue with her reasoning. “Considering what one of your favorite Sunday school country boys would do if they saw anyone but you driving it? No.”

Ray took June by the arm to escort her out. She paused at the door, looking out at the faces of the crowd that had grown even larger. “This could get ugly,” she whispered.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“I don’t suppose you could tell them—”

“Not yet.”

“Maybe I could just tell them that I only found—”

“June, don’t talk.”

June nodded, then took a deep breath. It’s not like I haven’t made this walk before. She pushed open the door and stepped out on the porch.

The murmurings started immediately, and June cringed as the words hit her ears. It was as if she’d betrayed them all. Ray walked beside her, waving back those who got too close.

By the time he closed the car door, shutting out the voices, tears traced down June’s cheeks, grief building again within her, composure slipping away.

Ray yanked open the driver’s door. He fastened his seat belt, then touched her arm gently. “We’ll get through this, I promise.”

“The glass house a pastor lives in doesn’t just vanish when he dies.” She twisted toward him, grief boiling over. “You have no idea what it’s like! What this brings back. How this makes me—” Her voice broke, and she wiped away tears in furious frustration.

“It brings back JR. Your dad. And your arrest.”

June squeezed her eyes shut. “How did you—?” She stopped, pressing her lips together. Of course he knows. He’s the sheriff. She took a deep breath to staunch the tears.

Ray looked her over carefully. “Just so you know, June, no matter what we do, these people out here are going to think you’re being treated with favoritism because you’re Daniel’s sister-in-law and JR’s widow.” He paused, easing the cruiser through the cluster of cars in the yard. “And my friend.”

June faced forward, looking down at her lap again. “Friend.”

“Friend,” Ray repeated. “Your choice, if I remember. Now fasten your seat belt.” He pulled out of the parsonage driveway and headed toward Highway 49, which would take them into Springfield.

For the next ten minutes, neither of them spoke. June stared out her window as Ray focused on maneuvering Highway 49’s hills and curves, and her thoughts turned to prayers. Lord, we’re going to need You more than ever. You were there when JR died. Please, guide us now. Help us have strength, understanding…and a little common sense wouldn’t hurt, either.

She looked down at her fingers, twisting them around each other. The truth was, this also felt as if she were betraying JR as well. She and JR had worked hard to transform her from a parolee to an elegant preacher’s wife. She’d studied etiquette and taken design classes. She’d practiced walking with grace in three-inch heels until her back hurt and her shoulders cramped. She’d read the Bible until she knew almost every book by heart. They’d never hidden her past from the church, but some of the folks within had never forgiven her or forgotten that they had a felon for a preacher’s wife. Only the fact that she’d never once slipped up, maintaining her elegance and class, had kept her in their good graces.

Now that JR no longer stood as her protector, the rumor mill would run out of control.

God, You’ve forgiven me. Why can’t they? Because of my disagreements with David?

David. Despite her quarrels with him, she had cared about David Gallagher, cared that he succeeded in the church she and her husband had built. For the past three years, she’d supported him, even though she’d pulled back from her activities in the church following JR’s death. In fact, until this business about Hunter had come up between them, she’d thought they were friends. But she’d begun to feel as if he was turning the people in the church against her over Hunter Bridges. And today had probably sealed her fate with them.

Their comments had upset her, but now that she thought about it, the same people who whispered behind their hands today were the same ones who always had. That would never change, guilty or innocent, no matter how good or bad her behavior. In every church, there are folks who dislike the pastor’s wife, even if they love the pastor. That was the way of the world. But June had always refused to “court” them. She preferred being straightforward and honest, even if it came with a few bumps.

Or hurt someone.

She turned to look at Ray. Since JR’s death, June hadn’t considered dating. Ray had always been good to her, checking on her, making a few repairs around the house. But he’d never so much as suggested anything more. Until about six weeks ago, when he changed where he sat every Sunday at church.

He’d moved from the balcony to sit in her pew, five rows from the front. Even in a large church like Gospel Immanuel, everyone notices when the county sheriff starts sitting with the former preacher’s wife. By the end of that first service, the rumor mill had already ground out its first tidbits. So she’d made it clear quickly: they were just friends. Nothing more.

She’d made it clear despite any feelings she had to the contrary, feelings she wasn’t even ready to admit to herself, yet.

Ray had agreed. But he hadn’t gone back to the balcony. And the man who was considered the best Bell County sheriff in its history had taken some hits to his reputation and authority. All because he’d chosen her as his friend.

She studied him now. His eyes, shadowed by physical pain, seemed to gaze into some far distance.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Ray blinked twice, as if she’d interrupted a major train of thought. “What?”

“By saying we were just friends.”

He kept his eyes on the road as he slowly smiled. “June. All the best relationships start as friends.”

Now it was her turn to blink in confusion. “Relationsh—”

An explosive pop cut off her words, and the cruiser jerked suddenly to the left, into oncoming traffic. June’s seat belt wrenched her back against the seat, locking into place as Ray hit the brakes. He wrestled the car back to the right lane and slowed, the left front tire thudding heavily on the pavement.

He eased the car off onto the shoulder, out of all traffic, and turned on the blue lights on the roof. Letting out a long sigh, he looked at June.

“You okay?”

She nodded. “Although I didn’t really need a second adrenaline rush today.”

“No doubt.” Ray reached for the radio and reported to the dispatcher what had happened, along with their location.

June looked around, realizing that while they weren’t far from Springfield, they were still surrounded by farm country. Her window overlooked a steep embankment that led down to a stream. Beyond the stream the land rose and fell in the typical undulating nature of this part of Tennessee, and rows of soybeans fluttered in a light breeze.

As he replaced the radio, he reached for the door handle. “Stay put. I’ll check on the tire.”

At that moment, the window above Ray’s hand cracked, and the radio exploded into tiny pieces as a bullet tore into it. Ray’s shouts to get out of the car sounded muffled, until June realized they were being drowned out by her own frantic screams. Ray released her belt, pushing her toward the passenger door. June jerked on the handle and scrambled out just as the windshield in front of them spiderwebbed into a thousand shards.