Madeline adjusted the aquarium so she could wave. Then, when Helen turned out of the park and her taillights disappeared, she held the tarantula as far away from her as she could and tried to decide which neighbor might be most receptive to an arachnid adoption.
That was when a flicker of movement told her Ray was watching from his window. He was probably wondering what all the fuss was about, she realized, and walked over, careful not to jiggle the aquarium.
“Here, give it to me,” she muttered sarcastically, but she felt so sorry for Helen she couldn’t really begrudge doing her such a small favor.
As she approached Ray’s trailer, she expected him to come to the door. She knew he’d seen her. But he didn’t.
Finally, she knocked—nearly dropping the glass container in the process. “Ray?”
When he appeared, he looked rumpled and unshaven. But she knew he typically stayed out late and had a drinking problem.
“Hey, Maddy.” He peered at her through bloodshot eyes, smiling as congenially as ever. “How are you?”
“Fine, I guess.” She once again adjusted the awkward aquarium.
His bushy eyebrows, brown tinged with gray, were far too long. They drew together as he studied the object she held. “What you got there?”
“Bubba’s spider.”
“Is Bubba okay?” he asked. “I saw the cop cars.”
He must’ve missed the hearse. “I’m sorry to tell you this, Ray. I know you and Bubba were friends, but…” A lump suddenly rose in Madeline’s throat. She’d gotten through the whole morning without crying. And now that the pressure was off…“Bubba’s dead,” she managed to say.
His jaw dropped, and he rubbed his whiskers for several seconds before responding. “That’s terrible. What happened?”
“Heart attack, I think.”
“He was far too heavy,” he said. “Wasn’t healthy.”
She nodded, blinking back tears. Granted, this latest tragedy didn’t affect her as personally as the other events of the past few weeks. But she’d liked Bubba, had seen him almost every week at church. He was jovial and kind and quick to call her with a hot lead. He even fancied himself a journalist of sorts and had written a few pieces for the paper—had fancied himself a journalist. It was so hard to think of him in the past tense. He wasn’t the best writer, he didn’t have much of an education. But he had a lot of enthusiasm, and he’d been part of the fabric of this town.
And now he was gone.
“His sister’s frightened of spiders—” she couldn’t completely quell the shudder that went through her as her eyes flicked involuntarily toward the tarantula “—and she’s looking for a good home for his…pet.”
Ray stared at her. “You want me to take Terrence Trent?”
“Is that his name?”
“Yeah. Bubba and I were best friends, you know. But I’m not really a pet sort of guy.”
“I’m not sure, but I think tarantulas are pretty easy.”
“Well…” His hand rasped over his whiskers again. “I guess I could give it a try.”
Relief swept through Madeline as he took the aquarium from her. “I can’t thank you enough.”
He smiled. “It’s the least I can do.”
She drew a deep breath. Now her first mission had been accomplished, and she needed to find that darn cat…“You haven’t seen Sarge, have you?”
“Isn’t he over there?”
“No.”
“Seems like he’s been around. I’m sure he’ll turn up. I’ll keep an eye out for him, okay?”
“Will you call me when you find him?”
“Of course.” He hesitated. “You know, you don’t look too well. Would you like to come in and sit down? Maybe have a cup of coffee?”
Madeline glanced at the spider again. “As long as you keep that thing across the room,” she muttered.
“Hey, come on. Terrence Trent is as harmless as I am.”
“He gives me the creeps. But I’ll come in rather than force you to stand there with your door open in this cold. I was hoping you could tell me a little more about Bubba, anyway. I’ll be writing his obituary, and you knew him better than I did.”
“Sure, I’d be happy to. Bubba was a great guy.” He stood back and held the door for her. “Get in here, out of the cold.”
His smile widened until it showed the tobacco stains on his teeth. And his trailer smelled almost as bad as Bubba’s. But Madeline wasn’t planning on staying long.
“What do you like in your coffee?” he asked.
There were plates with moldy food cluttering the counters, dishes heaped in the sink and a puddle of something sticky fanning out from under the fridge. “No coffee for me, thanks. The way I’m feeling right now, caffeine would make me too jittery.”
“Tea, then?”
“Actually, I don’t need anything. I’m fine.” She paused in front of a picture of Rose Lee that was hanging in a cheap frame on the wall. Hunter’s questions about her father’s relationship with the girl made her stomach ache with anxiety. Her father simply wasn’t capable of the behavior Hunter was willing to attribute to him. She prayed he’d soon learn that for himself.
“Do you still miss her?” she asked, suddenly very conscious of how much Ray must’ve suffered over his only daughter’s death. Maybe he hadn’t always been the best father, but he and Rose Lee had been closer than most parents and children. The last time Madeline had seen her, Rose Lee had been in the passenger seat of Ray’s pickup.
“You bet I do.”
Madeline started as he reached over her shoulder to straighten the picture. She hadn’t realized he was so close.
“Nothing’s been the same without her,” he said.
“It wasn’t me,” Mike said.
“You expect me to take your word for it? You threatened Madeline right in front of me, remember?” Hunter leaned against the bumper of Madeline’s car. He knew Mike’s mother was watching them from the house. She’d answered the door, then reluctantly called her son out of his bedroom. And because Hunter could sense her weary concern, he’d pulled Mike away, out of earshot. Hunter didn’t want to send Mike’s parents into a fresh panic, assuming that Mike was in trouble again. Not if Mike didn’t have any injuries consistent with the blood found in Madeline’s house.