Framed to Death (A Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery Book 4) Page 6

  “It wasn’t my bonfire, you psychopath,” Chad said. “It was the football team’s party. I just supplied the venue.”

  “And the refreshments. Including the Janie,” Felicity said.

  “Take your crazy friend out of here before my wife calls the cops.” Chad motioned for her to pick up the phone.

  “Come on, let’s go home.” I took hold of Felicity’s shoulders, steering her toward the door. “We’re not going to get any answers.”

  “No.” Felicity weaved away from my control. “He hurt my son. I won’t let him hurt another child.”

  “I didn’t hurt your kid,” Chad said. “He hurt himself.”

  “You’re a liar. A drug dealer. A dream crusher. A life stealer.” The open lighter shook in her hand like she was driving over a mile-long stretch of potholes. She clamped her teeth together, breaths hissing out of her.

  Chad looked more amused than stricken by the list of insults Felicity heaved at him. His smile enraged Felicity further. She rubbed her thumb viciously over the steel roller. I was close enough to hear it click. No flame. I exhaled in relief, hoping it was either broken or, better yet, out of fuel.

  “My son’s life is ruined because of you.” Felicity held the business end of the lighter at Chad. “He almost died. He’s paralyzed. Lost his scholarship. Won’t be able to go to college. He could’ve been in the NFL, and now he won’t ever leave Eden. You. Ruined. His. Life.”

  Chad pursed his lips and mimicked the sound of chopper blades. “Maybe if you worked instead of helicoptering over the kid, he could’ve gone to college.”

  Felicity brought the lighter to life, moving it toward the scarves. “How dare you blame me.”

  Crop it all. I should’ve made her stay in the car. Heck, I should’ve left her at Upcycle Wear and let the police deal with her. Why in the world was Charlotte out to get me? I didn’t need an unstable mother tagging along.

  “You’re blaming me.” Chad fisted his hand and swung at Felicity.

  I snagged her around the waist and twisted. Unfortunately for me, I reacted at the same time as Chad and received a sharp smack to the back of my head. My face slammed into the back of Felicity’s skull. The lighter clattered to the floor. I released Felicity and spun around.

  “Chad, leave them alone.” Dawn pushed herself into our melee, dragging Chad away.

  Chad blinked a few times. “That was on her. She got in the way.”

  “You think it would’ve been better if you hit Felicity?” I gently rubbed the sore spot on the back of my head.

  “I was defending myself and our store. She threatened to set the place on fire.”

  “You’re an evil, vile man.” Felicity’s hands were hooked into talons. If she was a few steps closer, she’d be able to rip out his eyes and heart.

  Chad raked a look of superiority over Felicity. “Just call me Satan.”

  “Oh my God.” Dawn paled, hands cupped around her mouth.

  I smelled smoke.

  Chad cursed, running for the area marked restroom. “The scarves are on fire.”

  A small flame leapt from one scarf to another, the silk ones quickly catching on fire while the wool smoked. I toppled the display over and stomped on the blaze, while Felicity turned into a frozen statue. Dawn hightailed it over, brandishing a broom above her head.

  Between my jumping and her swatting, we had the fire almost out when Chad heaved a bucket of water onto us and the scarves. “Where’s your fire extinguisher?”

  “Not working,” Chad said.

  “I didn’t mean for that to happen,” Felicity said.

  “Right.” Chad took the broom from his wife and shoved the sodden strips of wool toward the door. “Just leave before I call the cops.”

  “Why don’t you?” Felicity crossed her arms and smiled smugly. “I’d love for them to come by and check this place out.”

  And I’d rather not be there when they arrived. This situation wouldn’t bode well for me.

  “We’re leaving.” I hooked my arm through Felicity’s and forcibly dragged her out.

  “But…but…” Felicity’s anger took away her ability to speak.

  “We’re not going to find out anything now,” I said.

  “So we’re back where we started.” The look Felicity fixed on me sent a chill through my body. I was back to being the villain.

  Felicity’s grieving heart desired someone else to blame rather than face the fact that Brandon likely created his own nightmare. Someone in this town knew the truth. I just had to find the right mix of indignation, barely contained anger, and nervousness to get the gossip started. The majority of the town attended the high school games, so that was where I’d go for answers.

  SIX

  I spent the remainder of the afternoon at Scrap This having a very uneventful and boring day. Our business was below a trickle. My grandmothers had assured me, while giving me the evil eye, that it had nothing to do with my “visit” to the police station. They figured out I’d spent the morning investigating, not resting, and not even one teeny-tiny, glitter-sized piece of happiness was in them. They were certain one day I’d antagonize Ted into arresting me for my own good.

  If they spotted me at the game, they might request he do it tonight. Of course, at the speed I was driving now, the game would be over when I arrived.

  The traffic sloughed toward the high school like a snake stuck in deep mud. I craned my neck, looking for an accident or anything else responsible for the holdup. No one was honking or sending gestures toward other cars. The southbound lane was free, and every once in a while a car drove past. I had always assumed everyone went to the home games as nothing else happened on a Friday night, and today I found out my guess was correct.

  The drivers in front of me started parallel parking along the street. Great. All the parking spots at the high school and across the street at the shopping plaza were taken. It was going to be a little bit of a hike to the high school stadium. Sighing in complete drama queen fashion, I followed suit, easing toward the curb. A car zipped in front of me, taking my “parking space.”

  “Idiot.” I showed much restraint by not adding a gesture to the label. In my rearview mirror, I noticed a beat-up, rusted muscle car trying to pull up behind the spot stealer.

  “Oh no you don’t.” I quickly backed up, wedging my Malibu into the slot, the front end of my car sticking out. It wasn’t the best job I’ve ever done, but there was no way I was going to drive down the road to turn around.

  The other driver flipped me off and pulled back a few feet. After they parked, I’d straighten my car so I wasn’t creating a hazard. I pulled out a bit, not wanting some other driver to swipe my spot, then inched my car back. Nope, not quite. I tried again. Same result. I’d parallel parked before; why couldn’t I get it right this time?

  A steady honk accompanied every movement of my car. The drivers behind me were getting restless.

  “I’m trying. I’m trying.” Looking over my shoulder, I started the process over again.

  Someone rapped on the window, startling me. My foot slipped from the brake, and I bumped the curb. The evening was just getting better and better.

  Daniel Burke motioned for me to roll down the window.

  “Is something wrong?” I shoved the gear shift into park, hoping the fire department wasn’t called because someone believed an emergency caused the holdup.

  “You’re stopping people from getting to the game.”

  “I’m having a little trouble parking.” I smiled. “I’ll get it this time.”

  Daniel glanced back again. I followed his gaze. Numerous people stood beside their cars, and none looked happy.

  “How about I park it for you?”

  I hated being treated like a damsel in distress, but everyone looked ready to run m
e out of town if I wasted any more time. I hopped out of the car. “Give it a go.”

  I felt a little vindicated when it took Daniel three times to get the vehicle into the spot. For some reason, no one honked at him.

  “There you go.” He deposited the keys into my hands.

  “Thanks.” I took my camera bag out then locked the door. Holding the bag over my head, I wiggled between my car and the one in front of it. I thought it better than walking down the long line of cars parked on the side of the road.

  Daniel placed one hand on the hood of my car then vaulted over it. “I’ll walk with you.”

  “Don’t you need to park?”

  “I already did. I heard a call come through about there being a drunk, or a bad driver, blocking traffic, and I said I’d check it out.”

  “I’m surprised a police officer didn’t show up.”

  Daniel grinned. “Once the description of the car and license plate came through, Detective Roget started grumbling, so I offered to help you out.”

  “Just what did he grumble?”

  Daniel’s grin broadened. “You can ask the detective.”

  There were some things I’d rather not know. “Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

  “Anytime.” Daniel held out his arm, blocking me from the road, looking both ways before beckoning me to follow him.

  I huffed and puffed up the hill leading to the high school. The place was packed. The scent of hot dogs and hamburgers filled the air, reminding me I’d skipped dinner. When we reached the school parking lot, I saw a large section of choice spots were blocked off with rope and traffic cones.

  “Shouldn’t someone be manning the handicapped parking?” I asked. “It might be difficult for the driver to get out and remove the blockade.”

  “Those spaces are reserved for Coach Rutherford’s family. There’s a section right at the front gate for handicapped parking.”

  Apparently having a quarterback son and coaching for the division-winning team came with a lot of perks.

  We paid for our tickets and went inside. Most of the spots on the bleachers were full. I knew my grandmothers would make room for me, but I hadn’t told them I was attending and didn’t want them to know. The moment they spotted me, they’d know I came here for a reason besides watching the football game. As we walked, I noticed a roped-off section in the best viewing spot.

  “Those for Coach Rutherford’s family?”

  “Yep. They don’t like having to fight the traffic so the reserved seats give them the option to arrive just before the game starts.”

  “I hope I can find a place.”

  “Want to sit with me?” Daniel asked.

  “No, that’s okay. I’m going to wander around and check everything out. I’ve never been to a game before.”

  “Have fun.” Daniel climbed up the metal steps.

  I headed for the area near where the football players entered the field. Eden High School cheerleaders were standing there holding a large hoop covered with butcher paper. Whitney ordered the other girls into the proper positions, switching two of them around. I placed my bag on the ground and took out my camera. Since I was here, I might as well document the event. Sometimes the local paper ran contests for photos taken by citizens, and since this was the first football game I was attending, I wanted to document it in my scrapbooks.

  The steel bleachers were filled. Latecomers would have a hard time finding a spot amongst the masses of bodies. One side of the stadium looked like a sea of black and gold, while the other was filled with blue and white. Spectators shook mini pom-poms on sticks, and a few had homemade signs raised. A battle using printed words. I snapped a couple of photos of the crowd and the decorations on the Eden side of the field. I wanted to duplicate some of them in Scrap This and have them up for Homecoming in a few weeks. My grandmothers usually handled the decorations for town events, but I should step up and stop pretending football didn’t exist.

  I was also ashamed that I had never known about Steve’s role as announcer. When I thought about it, there were a lot of things about Steve’s life I didn’t know. That should’ve been a big clue to me about our relationship. I never asked, and he never mentioned anything. If I’d thought about it, instead of being relieved I didn’t have to reveal my “secret” to him, I’d have come to the conclusion long ago that Steve also had something huge he was withholding. No sense ruminating on the past. It never worked for me before and just meant I was once again spending more time there than in the here and now.

  I focused my lens on the cheerleaders standing in front of the cement foundation for the bleachers. Their skirts billowed in the wind. Bright smiles lit up their faces, highlighting not only the teenagers maturing into adults, but also the childlike innocence still left. Using her arms, Whitney made broad arc motions in the air. Four of the girls held up the large sign hanging from the silver hoop, while the other eight girls stood, four on each side, and shook their pom-poms. The gold and black vinyl strips whipped back and forth. I took some shots.

  A drumroll began. Hooting and hollering, the cheerleaders shook their pom-poms and stomped their feet. A boo came from the other side of the field. I heard the crowd behind me rise, and soon after, feet stomped on the bleachers. I kept my camera trained on the paper-covered hoop.

  Masculine voices joined the cheerleaders in yelling chants. A few uniformed players left the small covered entranceway between the bleachers while the rest remained in the darkness. The sound grew louder. The stomping increased. The metal of the bleachers clanged, making me fear the whole structure might collapse into a million pieces, even though Eden had spent a fortune to build the stadium a few years ago.

  Coach Rutherford and the team ran through the hoop covered in butcher paper.

  Steve’s voice filled the air. “Eden High School has taken the field.”

  A shiver danced down my spine. I’d always found Steve’s voice sexy, and that feeling was still strong. There was just something about his particular mix of West Virginia twang and sophisticated lawyer that got me every time.

  “Eden won the toss and will receive.”

  The game started, and I tried keeping my attention on it, but nothing made much sense. One team went after the other team who had the football. Bodies fell on top of each other. I wasn’t sure if all of the shoving and smacks were a true part of the game, or sneaky ways of getting back at the rival team.

  A large heavily padded player wrapped his arms around a smaller player wearing the black and gold uniform, crashing them both to the ground. I squeezed my eyes shut, wincing. Why in the world would parents allow their sons to play football? Seemed violent to me.

  Says the woman who involves herself in murders. I guess everyone had a less-than-safe activity they engaged in.

  While I waited for a break in the game, I scanned the crowd. Nearly everyone in Eden was in attendance; I thought it might be interesting to see who wasn’t here. I switched to my zoom lens and moved the focus back and forth across the crowd. My grandmothers were seated in the middle, wearing black and gold garb from the top of their heads to, I suspected, their feet. I doubted they’d don black and gold-brimmed straw hats and black shirts with Eden written in gold glitter across their chests only to put on just any old pair of shoes. They waved pom-poms in the air. Chief Moore sat a few people down from Hope, a wistful expression on his face. Poor guy. I hoped my grandmother forgave him soon. My grandfather had died eleven years ago, and I was happy to see Hope might have found someone to share the rest of her life with. I know Grandpa Tom would want that for her.

  Chad was talking to someone standing in the shadows between the sets of bleachers. He gestured wildly, almost striking the other person in the face while they stood calmly. I took a few shots, then snuck my way over to the duo. People didn’t conduct meetings in alleyways unless they were up to
something. And what better place to hand off illegal drugs to kids than at a football game, where most people’s attention was on the field?

  I flattened myself against the wall, hoping I blended into the gloom.

  Chad accepted something from the man, taking a few tries before he successfully shoved it into his back pocket. “People are looking, but it’s perfect timing.”

  The man in the shadows nodded.

  “Has to be tonight.”

  A roar echoed in the gangway.

  Chad’s gaze flicked in my direction. I held my breath. He weaved his head back and forth.

  Rocks skittered behind me. Both men turned and exited from the side closest to the restrooms, away from me. I released the air in my lungs and turned. Brandon Sullivan was struggling with his wheelchair on the gravel.

  “Need some help?” I rested my camera on my chest, the strap tugging at my neck.

  “I got it.” He jerked forward, knuckles turning white as he gripped the rims of the wheels tighter.

  Heat flashed across my face. He was probably tired of people walking up and doing things for him, implying that simple tasks were beyond his ability. “Sorry.”

  “Kind of a bad day for me. No need to take it out on you.” He wheeled away.

  I’m sure it was. Instead of being the star quarterback, he was on the sidelines in a wheelchair because of an accident everyone assumed he’d caused.

  I ran after him. “Can I ask you a question?”

  His gaze skittered around the stadium. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Your mom said you attended the bonfires and that’s where the kids are getting the drugs. Who sold it?”

  Brandon turned his chair to face me. “I don’t know.”

  “You didn’t see anything?”

  “Sometimes it’s best not to see or hear things. I never touched it when it was passed around.”

  “Were other kids smoking it around you? Maybe someone gave it to you and told you it was a cigarette?”