The Liar

“That’s all right.” She took his hand in hers. “I do. I know how to get us home again.”

Epilogue

Shelby slept long and deep, comforted by the sight of her sleeping child, and her own mother’s fussing, her father’s gentle, if insistent, exam.

The sun beamed high and bright when she woke, turned the hills she loved into a glimmering green, bathed to shining by the storm that blew through while she slept.

She might have winced when she looked at her face in the mirror, at the purpling bruise on her cheekbone. And winced again, with an added hiss, when she pressed testing fingers against it.

But she reminded herself it would heal and fade.

She wouldn’t allow Richard to leave a mark on her. Or on hers.

She heard voices as she went downstairs, followed them into the kitchen.

She saw Griff leaning on the counter smiling at her grandmother, and her grandfather giving Matt some instructions over a hitch in his truck. Her mother put a pretty tray together; her father drank coffee in a splash of sunlight. Emma Kate and Forrest with their heads together, and Clay, Gilly and the baby huddled together.

“This looks like a party.”

All conversation stopped; all eyes turned to her.

“Oh, baby girl, I was just fixing you breakfast in bed. You need rest.”

“I slept just fine, Mama, and I feel just fine now.” She went to kiss her mother’s cheek, snatched a piece of bacon off the plate she didn’t really want to make her mother smile. “Party. Oh, Emma Kate, your party.”

“Don’t even start to go there.” Jumping up, Emma Kate hugged her hard. “You scared me, Shelby. Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“I’m happy to promise that.”

“Come over here and sit,” her father ordered. “I want a look at you.”

“Yes, sir, Daddy. But where’s Callie?”

“We took Jack over to Miz Suzannah’s so she’d have more company.” Gilly smiled but gripped Shelby’s hand tight. “We all thought you’d sleep longer.”

“I’m so glad you’re all here. I’m so glad I woke up to all of you.” She looked at Griff. “All of you.”

She sat so her father could turn her face this way and that, shine his little light in her eyes. “Headache?”

“No. Not a bit, I promise.”

“Do you hurt anywhere?”

“No—well, my cheek’s a little sore. Tender.”

“That’s what this is for.” Viola gave her an ice pack, and a kiss on the top of her head.

“Feels good.” Like bliss, Shelby thought. “He backhanded me because he could, and he pulled my hair like a girl in a catfight. Mostly he just tried to hurt me with words, like always. But he couldn’t. Nothing he could say could— Oh, good Lord, I forgot again. Forrest, I have to tell you why he was here, in the house when I came to get Fifi. He was after—”

“A key? Safe-deposit box he’s been paying for under the name of Charles Jakes for about five years now?”

Deflated, she shifted the angle of the ice bag. “Yes, that’s what I forgot to tell you.”

“Griff filled me in last night when I came by. You slept late, Shelby. We found what the feds have been after right in the First Bank of Tennessee on High Street.”

“All of it? Here?”

“Most of it. The owners and their insurance company’ll be notified. That’s for the federals.”

“Tell her the rest, Forrest.” His mother poked him. “I still can’t believe it.”

“What rest?” Her stomach pitched so she reached for the Coke her mother had put in front of her. “Is he dead? Did I kill him?”

“Not that part of the rest. He made it through the night, and they give him a decent shot of making it altogether.”

Closing her eyes, she let out a breath. She’d done what she’d had to do, just as Forrest had said, but dear God, she didn’t want a killing on her hands. Even Richard’s.

“He’s going to live?”

“They say he is. Then he can spend the rest of his life behind bars. The other one, he’s one tough son of a bitch. They’re giving him a better than decent shot.”

“I didn’t kill him. I don’t have to live with having killed him.” She closed her eyes again. “But he’ll go to prison. He won’t get out again.”

“He’s going to spend what’s left of his life in a cell. He’s never going to touch you or Callie.”

“Tell her the good part,” Ada Mae insisted. “We’ve had enough talk of that man in this house.”

“Spending his life in prison’s a pretty good part,” Forrest said, but shrugged. Then grinned. “There’s a finder’s fee for the property stolen in Miami. Standard ten percent. There’s going to be some paperwork and some hoops to jump through, but Special Agent Landry figures you’ll get about two million out of it.”

“Two million what?”

“Dollars, Shelby. Pay attention.”

“But . . . he stole it.”

“And the information you gave us found it.”

“We need to have mimosas.” When Ada Mae wept into her hands, Jack put his arms around her. “Oh, Daddy, why don’t we have any champagne?”

“They’re going to give me all that money.” Shelby held up her hands, struggled to take it in. “Enough I can pay off the rest of the debt?”