Thirty-Five and a Half Conspiracies Page 46

I was putting the finishing touches on the soup when Neely Kate came into the kitchen. She still looked groggy as she sat down at the table.

“Maybe you should stay home tonight,” I suggested.

“Not a chance. I just need to wake up is all.”

I ladled her a bowl of soup and set it in front of her. “I saw Joe.”

Her gaze jerked up to mine. “What?”

“I took Muffy outside and she headed into the barn. The next thing I knew, he was inside there with me.”

“What in tarnation was he doin’ there? Spyin’ on you?”

“I never got a satisfactory answer. He said he was checkin’ on me. That he’s tryin’ to keep me safe.”

“Keep you safe? Did you confront him about arresting you?”

“Oh, you bet I did. He said he did it to protect me from J.R. And he claims that’s why he took the journal too.”

“That makes no sense whatsoever.”

“I know.” Yet in his own twisted logic, perhaps it did. Still, if Joe really was trying to protect me, he sure was going at it the wrong way. “We got into a huge fight—nothing unusual there—and I threatened to tase him if he didn’t leave.”

“The nerve of that man!”

“I know.” I scooped myself a bowl of soup too, grabbed some leftover homemade bread from Maeve, and sat down at the table. “Mason is spending the night in Little Rock, so I won’t have to worry about explaining our absence to him.” I filled her in on what he’d discovered, and we sat in silence for a moment.

“I have to admit,” she said, sinking her spoon into her bowl, “it sounds like it might be scary for him to be up there.”

“Agreed. The sooner he gets home, the more relieved I’ll be. I also figured out the identity of the guy with the belt buckle.”

She gave me a smug grin. “I told you it would be easy. We can check him out later. We just won’t tell Mason.”

I pointed my spoon at her. “No. We’re not confronting him or following him, or whatever you want to call it. I already sent the name to Mason, and he’s going to have Deputy Miller look into it.”

Neely Kate made a face, but she didn’t say anything.

“Besides,” I said, “this meeting with Mick Gentry is enough for us to worry about.” I grabbed a piece of bread and began to slather it with butter, then put it back down. My stomach felt like a bag of popcorn popping in the microwave. “I’m not telling Jed you’ll be there until we drive up, but he’s gonna pitch a fit. So be prepared.”

Her eyebrows rose. “I can handle Jed.”

“No. You let me handle Jed. If you go shootin’ off, he’s gonna think you’re a loose cannon.” And I had to wonder whether there was something to that. I half considered sneaking off without her, but I knew I’d royally pay for it later if I tried. “Jed is in charge. Say it.”

Her mouth puckered around her spoon.

“Neely Kate. This isn’t some game. In fact, this is probably the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done.”

“Yet you’re still doin’ it.”

“I don’t trust what’s goin’ on in Little Rock. If I were sure something would come of Mason’s meeting tomorrow, I’d call this off in a heartbeat. I would postpone, but Mick Gentry isn’t the kind of guy to take being blown off lightly. If I ever want a shot at talking to him—and J.R.—I have to follow through with this. But you—” I pointed my spoon at her “—you don’t have to go at all. So I strongly suggest you reconsider.”

She studied me for several seconds. To my relief, I could see she was giving it serious consideration. Finally she spoke, all sass gone. “We’re a team. We stick together.”

“Neely Kate.” My voice broke. “I don’t know if I could live with myself if something happened to you because of me.”

“You’d live with yourself just fine. Do you know why? This is my choice. My decision. For all my life, I’ve tried to make myself into someone other people want me to be. I did it all through high school—why do you think I was popular? I even do it with Ronnie. But I’m tired of trying to follow everyone else’s rules. I want to follow my own. And I’m goin’ with you. My choice. My decision. If something happens, you’ll know I died doin’ exactly what I wanted to do.”

I swallowed, the soup in my stomach now a lump weighing me down. “Nobody’s dyin’ tonight. You hear me?”

She gave me a soft smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

I grinned. “Did you just call me ma’am? Just how old do you think I am?”

She laughed. “Sorry, miss.” She stood and picked up her bowl. “Now let’s get ready to go.”

It didn’t take us long. All I had to do was put up my hair and put on some bright red lipstick and pack my bag of clothes. Neely Kate had been known to spend over an hour getting ready, but tonight she appeared in my bedroom doorway within fifteen minutes. She had pinned up her long blond and highlighted hair and pulled on a sleek black wig. It gave her full bangs that brushed over her mascara-darkened eyebrows, and the length hit just below her chin. Her eyes were dark and smoky, and her lip color was a pale pink. She wore black pants, a long-sleeve black silky shirt—buttoned just at her cleavage—and black boots.

“Well? What do you think?” She stood in front of me, her face expressionless.

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