“Let’s cut to the chase, Deputy Meriwether. You looked up Sam Sweeney’s file after I left, didn’t you? And you thought you’d take over Willaby’s investigation. But there’s nothing to investigate here. Chester and Lucas had nothing to do with Sam Sweeney’s disappearance.”
She turned. The sunny late February day had turned cold and blustery, and the wind blew her hair around like whipped honey. A strand caught the stubble on his chin and clung there like a silky spider web as she gazed directly in his eyes and smiled.
“Sheriff Willaby doesn’t suspect Chester and Lucas. He suspects you, Officer Hayes.”
Chapter Three
“I’ve had just about enough of this foolishness, Dixie Leigh Meriwether. You need to get yourself home and you need to get yourself home now. Last night, your mama had a hideous dream that she and I were called to the morgue to identify your body.”
If she hadn’t been holding her cellphone to her ear, Dixie would’ve rubbed her hands together with glee. Instead, she did a little wiggle shimmy as she got out of the sheriff’s SUV. A man walking down Main Street did a double take. She smiled and waggled her fingers in greeting, too happy to care that dancing in the streets wasn’t exactly how a deputy should behave.
If her mama was having nightmares about her daughter getting killed in the line of duty, Dixie was close to victory. So close she could taste it. Her daddy worshiped the ground his wife walked on and didn’t like anything or anyone upsetting his sweet Georgia peach. He enjoyed the fact that he had married a refined southern beauty queen with a mile-long pedigree and had no real expectations of his wife beyond her love.
The same wasn’t true for Dixie.
While her daddy loved her to pieces, he also had high expectations of his only child. He was proud Dixie had gotten her mama’s good looks and won a few beauty contests, but he was also convinced she had gotten his brains and needed to use them.
He was wrong.
While Dixie had a whole lot in the looks department, she had next to nothing in the brains. In school, she had excelled at every social activity, but struggled with her classwork. Her third-grade teacher had identified her learning problem as dyslexia and called a meeting with her mama. Winona Meriwether had always believed the way to deal with imperfections was to hide them. So she had decided it was best to keep Dixie’s dyslexia a “little” secret from her husband. Dixie was all for that. She didn’t want her daddy finding out his sweet little princess wasn’t perfect either. With a little hard work and help from tutors, she knew she could catch up to the other children.
Dixie had spent her entire school life trying to catch up. While she hadn’t graduated from high school and college top of her class, she had graduated. But that hadn’t been good enough for her daddy.
“I mean it, Dixie Leigh. When I said you needed to complete three years of law before you could get the money your grandmother put aside for you, I meant law school, not working as a lowly sheriff’s deputy.”
“Then you should’ve been more specific, Daddy. You taught me yourself that words can easily be misconstrued and it’s best to have everything in writing so there are no misunderstandings.” She headed toward the Simple Pharmacy. She usually just brought her lunch to work and ate in the office so she could avoid the town and having to deal with any law issues. But today, she had a craving for a cheeseburger from the pharmacy soda fountain.
“Don’t you dare use my words against me, Sugar Squirt,” her daddy said. “You knew exactly what I meant. You just don’t want to go back to school. I never should’ve let you and your mother talk me into letting you postpone law school so you could try out for Miss Texas. All those years were wasted and put the hare-brained scheme in your head of using your grandmother’s money to become some beauty pageant instructor. And I flat refuse to let that happen. You are a Meriwether and Meriwethers are lawyers, judges, and politicians.”
“Mama’s not.”
“Your mama is a Hanover. She was brought up with different expectations than you.”
“Well, maybe I want to be a Hanover. Hold on, Daddy.” She put her phone on mute and hurried to hold the door open for a little old woman who was just coming out of the Simple Hair Salon. She sucked in her breath with fear when she saw who the woman was.
Gertrude Dixon owned the Dixon Boardinghouse with her niece Reba. While Reba was as sweet as apple pie. Miss Gertie was as sour as sugarless lemonade. As was her hairless cat, which sat in the basket attached to the walker.
“Good afternoon, Miss Gertie.” She went to scratch the cat’s head and received a mean hiss for her efforts. She pulled back and forced a laugh. “I guess you’re the same as usual, Rhett Butler.”
Both the cat and the old woman glared at her.
“So you’re still here?” Miss Gertie said. “I thought you’d left with that horse’s behind, Willaby.”
“No, ma’am. I’m still on the job.” Just hopefully, not for long.
Miss Gertie snorted. “I don’t know what job you’re talking about when every time I see you, you’re either gabbing on your smarty phone or applying lipstick.” She shook her head as she rolled the walker right over Dixie’s boot. “What in tarnation is this town comin’ to?”
The woman did have a good point. Simple hadn’t exactly won out in the law enforcement department. Dixie felt a little guilty about that and decided right then and there to do everything in her power to make sure they got a better deputy next time around.
“Nice to see you, Miss Gertie,” Dixie called after her before she took her father off hold. “Sorry, Daddy. So where were we?”
“You were telling me
