Page 81 of The Last Straw
Mildred Pete was a nervous wreck. She’d spent the night moving from room to room with the lights out, scared half out of her mind that Farrell Kitt would come looking to silence her.
She still couldn’t believe she’d had the nerve to challenge him, but her heart hurt for Junior Kitt. He was a sweet little boy, who was now going to grow up with a big strike against him for being his father’s son.
She also felt bad for Judy Kitt. It was obvious she’d known nothing about what her husband had done until it was too late. Everyone in Paulette had known that Judy Kitt took herself and her kids to the Baptist Church in town, while Farrell had become wrapped up in Jeremiah Raver’s cult. That was what they’d called it, and time had proven them all right in their beliefs.
Mildred was torn about turning Farrell in. But she also knew that if she didn’t, someone else would. She was almost sixty. She’d been planning to retire at the end of this school year. Having that money for a nest egg in her later years would be a blessing.
But she didn’t want people in Paulette to know she was the one who turned him in. And the only way to keep that a secret was to have that money deposited in a bank in another city.
So by the time the sun came up, she was in the kitchen having breakfast. As soon as she started a load of clothes to washing, she took off to Baton Rouge, to open an account in one of the banks. She had been saving Christmas money in a sock in her underwear drawer. Nearly five hundred dollars.
It was Saturday. That meant no school, but it also meant the banks would close at noon. It would take almost an hour to get there, but by the time she reached Baton Rouge, the bank lobby would be open. And when she left, she’d have a new checking account—one where the bounty money could be sent.
She had the email all ready to send to that woman. All she had to do was send the routing number of her bank with it, then sit back and wait for whatever came next.
It was after 8 a.m. when Wyrick woke up. She rolled over to check the time and then stretched, reveling in the leisure of a slow morning, before getting up to shower and dress.
She sent a text to Millie Chriss, telling her that they were staying on the case until the man who took Rachel was behind bars, and then went down to find something to eat.
She started her cup of coffee to brewing, and poked around in the refrigerator and then the pantry.
What she wanted was pancakes and bacon, but she didn’t know how to make pancakes, and frying bacon was dangerous. Food should not hurt. So she opted for a bowl of cereal. She decided to put some fruit on it, and was eyeing the bowl of cherry tomatoes, then decided that was more adventure than she was ready for, and picked a container of blackberries instead.
She was eating a blackberry and pouring cereal in her bowl when Charlie walked in. She waved her spoon and kept chewing.
Charlie grinned. “Good morning to you, too.”
He made himself coffee and toast, then got butter and jelly from the fridge and joined her at the table.
“Called Detective Floyd yet?” Wyrick asked and then poked another spoonful of cereal into her mouth.
Charlie shook his head. “I wanted to wait until we were both in on the call, in case he asked for details.”
She nodded, and while they were eating Wyrick got a text. It was from Millie. She read it aloud.
“Millie says Rachel is stable. Her fever is down a couple of degrees. The doctor is happy with her progress, and Millie’s husband arrived last night.”
“Good news,” Charlie said.
Wyrick nodded, finished her cereal and carried the bowl to the sink, then sat back down at the table and started reading the morning news on her phone.
She would have rather watched Charlie eat, because everything he did was sexy, right down to licking butter off his thumb.
As soon as he carried his dishes to the sink, he refilled his coffee and came back to the table.
“Are you ready to talk to the cops?”
“Yes,” she said and laid down her phone.
Charlie made the call, then put it on speaker and waited for the detective to answer. It rang a couple of times and Wyrick frowned.
“It’s Saturday. Maybe he’s off?”
“Not with a kidnapper on the loose,” Charlie said. But just when he thought it was going to go to voice mail, Floyd answered.
“Hey, Charlie. Sorry. I was dropping my son off at his grandma’s for the day. What’s up?”
“Wyrick uncovered more information last night. She thought you might already know it, but just in case you didn’t, she wanted to pass it on. I have the call on speaker and she’s right here, so I’m going to let her explain.”
