“Yes, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t murdered.’’ I started to tell him about the note in my Jeep, but, for some reason, I changed my mind. “There are still questions about his death,’’ I said, “especially given everything that’s happened since.’’
Trey dropped his head into his hands. He sat that way, rubbing at his temples, for what seemed like a long time. Finally, he looked up. Every emotion he was feeling showed in his eyes: Grief. Confusion. Guilt. I almost felt sorry for him, until I got a mental memory of his hands exploring Wynonna’s breasts.
“Mace, I swear to you, I swear on my sister’s life, I didn’t kill Daddy. I loved that man. Which is all the more reason why I hated . . . hate . . . Wynonna. She’s been coming on to me for months, and she’s just relentless. Whenever we were alone, she’d be touching me, rubbing on me, throwing herself at me.’’
He took a swallow of his coffee. He didn’t touch the beer.
“But I never did a thing with her while Daddy was alive,’’ he continued. “Tonight was the first time I gave in. I’d been drinking, and I’m weak, Mace. Daddy always said it, and it’s true. I’m weak. I thought it would make me feel better, just to hold someone in my arms. Just to have someone hold me. But that somebody was Wynonna, so it only made me feel worse.’’
He touched a thumb to the corner of his eye. It came away wet.
“When I rolled off her tonight, all I felt was shame.’’
Now, unfortunately, I had another mental image to add to his hands groping her.
“What do you plan to do now, Trey?’’
“She’s the devil, Mace. I’ve gotta stay away from her. I thought maybe you could help me do that. I like you. A lot. I thought there was something between us, but I can see you’re hung up on that Miamuh hotshot.’’
Not any more, I thought.
“It will just kill Belle when she finds out what I did with Wynonna. Can you wait to tell the sheriff until after I’ve told my sister? You know how word travels.’’
I contemplated that. I guess I owed him that much. And, knowing how fragile Belle was, I thought it would be best if she heard bad news from her brother instead of from some gossipy Cracker Trail camper.
“Yeah,’’ I finally answered. “I’ll do that. But you better make it fast, Trey.’’
“I will, I promise. But I sure don’t look forward to it. Belle’s gonna be so disappointed in me. And she’ll hate Wynonna, of course, even more than she does now. Wynonna was too smart to ever let Belle catch her chasing me. If she had, Belle surely would have told Daddy.’’
He sipped his coffee, probably cold by now.
“That’s how close the two of them were. Much closer than Daddy and me. And I didn’t mind, because I love my sister. She worshipped our daddy, and Belle was his favorite. It didn’t matter that she was adopted.’’
My surprise must have registered on my face because Trey stopped to look at me.
“Yeah, not too many people know that,’’ he said. “She was just an itty bitty baby when they brought her home. I was only three, a little past being a baby myself. All I remember is my parents walking in the door with this tiny, living doll. They’d wrapped her in a pink blanket, with bunnies.’’
“Did Belle grow up knowing?’’
“Not until she was ten years old. I didn’t know either, really. Daddy sat us both down on her tenth birthday. He gave us a speech, about how he and Mama loved Belle so much that they chose to have her join our family. He didn’t say much about where she came from or how they got her.’’
“Weren’t you curious?’’
“Belle was, but I wasn’t. As far as I was concerned, she was my sister. She’d been part of the family, part of me, for as long as I could remember. She was just Belle.’’ He stopped talking, his eyes grew distant.
“What?’’
“I was just thinking about her as a little girl. After she found out she was adopted, she had a lot of questions about where she came from. But you learned with Daddy, there were certain things he didn’t talk about. When Belle was younger, she tried prying out the details. As she got older, she finally accepted it and quit asking.’’
We were quiet for a few moments. A generator hummed at the cook site. A bobcat screeched in the distant woods. I thought of my feelings for my sisters, and of Mama’s overwhelming—sometimes overbearing—love for all of us.
“Did Belle feel loved?’’ I asked.
“Hell, yes,’’ Trey said. “Daddy always said he couldn’t have loved her more if she was his flesh and blood. They paid all kinds of money for her to go to fancy boarding schools. Like I told you, she was his favorite. Belle could do no wrong.’’
I heard a trace of jealousy in Trey’s voice. He’d probably deny it up and down. But it’s funny how those patterns set in childhood run through the rest of your life. I wondered if Belle saw their childhood the same way he did.
I watched him in the light spilling over from the cook site. He was lost in thought. Or maybe he was still a little drunk. I guess I’m a sucker for anything wounded or hurting. I’d worried about Lawton’s poor dog, Tuck. And now I felt sorry for Trey. Drunk. Hating himself for Wynonna. Failing to live up to Lawton’s name.
I laid my hand between his shoulders, and gave his back a reassuring rub. I figured he could use a friend. I saw him as he was. And I wanted nothing to do with that, beyond offering simple human comfort. I swear that was the only thought in my mind.
But just before I could say, “Don’t worry, Trey, everything will turn out,’’ he turned and kissed me full on the lips. First I was surprised. Then I was turned off by the sour-beer smell of his breath. I’d just started to pull away when I heard a shriek of rage.
Austin was on us before we could react. She grabbed the bottle Trey had dropped, and smashed it against the rock where we leaned. Shards of glass spattered the ground like tiny hailstones.
“You bastard,’’ she hissed at Trey, her mouth twisted with rage. “I hate you!’’
Then she turned the jagged neck on me. Her first pass came so close to my cheek I smelled the warm beer on the broken bottle.
And, suddenly, I knew how Trey had gotten the nasty gash we saw on his face that first night at the Bramble ranch house.
I leapt to my feet. Austin moved with me, thrusting the broken bottle in my face.
“Back off, Austin!’’ Trey stumbled over the big rock as he tried to grab his ex-girlfriend’s arm.
This was just what I didn’t need: a jealous woman with a jagged bottle and anger issues, and a rescuer who was too soused to save me. I raised a shout of my own.
“Hey, a little help over here!’’ I called out to whoever might be close. “Trouble over here!’’
A jumble of voices and movement arose from the dinner site. Austin looked over her shoulder, and then quickly back at me. She lowered the bottle a fraction of an inch.
“Put it down. You don’t want to hurt me.’’ I heard the tremble in my voice. I’m not vain, but I’ve gotten kind of used to the way my face looks without scars.
“There’ll be witnesses.’’ Trey spat the words at his ex. “Everyone will know you’re out of control.’’
Anger sparked again in her eyes.
“I’m not out of control,’’ she hissed, jabbing the broken glass toward me. I reared back my head, and felt a whoosh of air as the bottle just missed slicing my nose.
“Stop it, Austin.’’ A woman spoke behind me in a calm, steady voice. “Why don’t you give me that bottle?’’