Right of Redemption Page 5

  “Fifty dollars?” Charlotte said.

  “Fifty thousand. Tax auction bidding starts at the amount of taxes owed. In this case, it’s probably around ten grand.”

  Darcy’s eyes lit up, and I shook my head. “We won’t get it for that. The houses often go for close to market price. On the market, this might go for sixty or even seventy thousand. But there’ll probably just be investors at the auction, and they like to get things cheap. So we could get lucky. Not that lucky, though. But lucky enough to pay ten or twenty thousand under market value.”

  “I think I’d be OK up to sixty thousand,” Darcy said. “After we put the money into it—if you’re right about the amount—and if you’re right about the… what did you call it? Out-price?—we stand to make somewhere around seventy thousand.”

  “A bit less, after realtor fees and other closing costs. I’d do that part for free, of course, since I’ll be getting a third of the profits, but we still have to pay the other agent. So maybe sixty.” If I was right and all the numbers lined up.

  “Twenty thousand each,” Darcy said. “Not sure it would be worth the risk for any less than that.”

  No. It was easy for me to feel confident, since all I had to put up was some time and effort. If this blew up, Darcy would be the one with egg on her face. So if she wanted to stop the bidding at sixty thousand, that’s what we’d do.

  “Ready to get this show on the road, then?”

  They both nodded.

  “Want to drive together? That way we don’t have to worry about finding parking for three cars.”

  “Is it safe to leave the cars here?” Charlotte wanted to know, with a glance at her late-model Town and Country. I didn’t think the minivan was in any danger of being stolen—most car thieves don’t go for mom-vans when they commit grand theft auto, and they don’t tend to commit grand theft auto at nine on a Saturday morning in a nice, residential neighborhood, either—but of course I didn’t tell her so.

  “If it makes you feel better,” I said instead, “you can drive. But you have to come back here after the auction to drop us off.”

  “I’d have to come back here after the auction either way,” Charlotte said. “I have car seats in the back.”

  Come to think of it, so did I. “I think it’s up to you,” I told Darcy, the only one of us who hadn’t produced offspring she was ferrying around in her car.

  She sighed. “First my bank account and now my car. Where’s it going to end?”

  “Hopefully on the courthouse steps.” I headed toward the Honda. “C’mon. We don’t want to be late. You can ride shotgun, Charlotte.”

  “That’s OK,” Charlotte said. “I’ll take the back. You sit up front with your sister.”

  We arranged ourselves and Darcy put the car in gear and headed down the street toward the courthouse.

  * * *

  “How’d it go?” Rafe asked several hours later, when he came home, sweaty and out of sorts, from spending the best part of the day walking and climbing all over Laurel Hill.

  I was back in the kitchen, this time with the computer open to tile choices, and I beamed at him. “It went well.”

  He took his leather jacket off and hung it over the back of a chair. “Got the house?”

  I nodded. “It took some doing, but we did. Eventually.”

  One guy had kept the bidding going much longer than I’d wanted—I suspected at that point he was doing it just to drive the price up, although that could have been my imagination—but eventually he gave up, and we were the proud owners of a fixer-upper on Fulton Street.

  Or we would be, once Darcy got to the county clerk’s office on Monday with the check.

  “Good for you,” Rafe said.

  “I guess it is.” We’d come in under Darcy’s top price, if a few thousand above where I’d wanted to be. But if my calculations were right, and the renovation costs didn’t go over by too much, we should still be able to make a decent profit.

  His lips curved. “Cold feet?”

  “Yours or mine?” He was in the process of peeling off his socks, from which I deduced that he’d probably gotten wet at some point.

  He nodded when I said so. “There was a creek. I had to make it to the other side.”

  “Just you?”

  “Most of the others are old,” Rafe said. “And Tammy’s a girl. I volunteered.”

  “I’m not sure Grimaldi would appreciate you calling her a girl.” Or Tammy, for that matter.

  He smirked. “I wouldn’t do it to her face.”

  “That’s probably safer. So did you find anything interesting on the other side of the creek?”

  He made a face, but I wasn’t sure whether it was because of the wet feet or the subject matter. “A sort of half mask someone had left on the ground. Printed with the bottom half of a skull.”

  “Lovely,” I said. “Although there’s no law against running around in the woods wearing a skull mask. There could be lots of reasons for that.”

  He arched a brow and I corrected myself. “Maybe not lots. But it could be kids playing or something like that.”

  “Not with what else I found,” Rafe said.

  “What was that?”

  “Bullets. Lots of’em.”

  I wrinkled my brows. “Who’d dump a bunch of bullets in the woods?”

  “They didn’t dump’em,” Rafe said. “They used’em. For target practice, prob’ly. And when it was time to leave, they didn’t pick’em all up. Either ‘cause they couldn’t find’em, or because they just didn’t care about being stealthy.”

  If they’d been meeting for target practice, and they’d been wearing skulls over the bottom halves of their faces, I think stealthy was out the window. I mean, yes… they’d clearly taken some pains not to be recognized if they were seen. Hence the masks. But getting together in a popular wildlife area less than an hour and half’s drive from Nashville, wearing skull masks and shooting guns, wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. If they wanted to stay out of the public eye, there were better places they could hide to do their business.

  “No clues as to who they are or where to find them, I guess.”

  He shook his head. “They didn’t leave calling cards. But now that we know they meet there sometimes, we can keep an eye on the place. And maybe catch’em next time.”

  “You can’t arrest them, though,” I said. “Can you? I mean, it’s a wildlife area. Shooting is allowed. And there’s no law against shooting while wearing masks.” At least as long as they didn’t try to shoot people.

  “But we can figure out who they are and follow’em home. And then keep an eye on’em.”

  Right. In case they decided to do more than shoot at targets.

  “But they weren’t there this weekend?”

  He shook his head. “The rangers are keeping an eye out. But if they were there last week, we’re thinking it might could be a week or two before they’re back.”

  “If they come back at all.”

  “No reason they wouldn’t,” Rafe said. “Nobody bothered’em this time. They’d prob’ly feel safe coming back.”

  Maybe so. Although for the next week, that left him, and Grimaldi and the sheriffs, with nothing to do but wait and see.

  “So you got cold feet?” He came back to the part of the conversation that had been derailed by the discussion of the creek and what had been on the other side of it.

  “Not so much cold feet,” I said. “I’m glad we got the house. But the whole thing is scarier now that reality’s set in. It was fun while we were talking about it, but now that we actually have to do something, I’m not sure I know how. I’ve never renovated anything before. Bradley’s townhouse was new when we moved into it. My apartment was a rental, so I couldn’t do anything there, and you’d already done all the work on your grandmother’s house by the time I moved in.”

  He nodded.

  “The mansion’s been the same for a hundred and eighty years. But this house is on me. Darcy’s putting up the m
oney and Charlotte’s willing to help with the work, but I’m going to have to be the one to tell them both what to do. And what if I don’t know what I’m doing? What if I forget to turn off the power, and someone gets hurts?”

  “You won’t,” Rafe said.

  Maybe I wouldn’t. But— “What if I choose the wrong wall color or bathroom tile, so nobody wants to buy the place, and we don’t make any money and Darcy doesn’t get her investment back?”

  “She’ll still love you,” Rafe said.

  Yes, of course she would. At least I hoped she would. But— “I want this to be a success. Charlotte needs the money. I could do with another property to sell. And I don’t want to fail my sister.”

  Rafe shook his head. “You won’t fail, darlin’. You know what people are looking for. You know the paint color and tile to pick. Worst case scenario, you’ll make a little less than you hoped you’d make. But nobody’s gonna die because you were negligent, and you’re not gonna fail.”

  “Famous last words,” I said.

  He grinned. “How about I get changed, and we drive over to Home Depot and look at paint and tile? And then I’ll take you to dinner. How does Cracker Barrel sound?”

  Cracker Barrel sounded great. “I love you,” I said.

  The grin widened. “I love you, too. Gimme five minutes.” He disappeared down the hallway while I closed the laptop and prepared to go.

  Five

  At nine on Monday morning, Darcy and I met at the county clerk’s office in downtown Columbia. By ten after, the deed was done and the house was ours.

  “Go to work,” Darcy said, handing me the receipt. “It’s all yours.”

  I took it. “It’s yours, but I’ll accept the baton. Thank you.”

  She smiled. “It’s my pleasure. Especially since you’re going to take my money and turn it into more money.”

  “You aren’t worried that I’ll do something stupid and lose it?”

  “Why would you?” She shook her head. “This is your business. You know what you’re doing. I’m not worried.”

  Good. That made one of us.

  “But I do have to get to work,” she added, “or your brother’s going to fire me.”

  “Our brother,” I said. “And he won’t fire you. You’re his sister.”

  “It still doesn’t always feel that way,” Darcy admitted. “I know it. Theoretically. I just don’t always feel it.”

  I wrinkled my brows. “Dix is being nice, isn’t he?”

  She grinned. “Of course he’s being nice. He was nice before we found out we were related, too.”

  “You don’t feel unwelcome or anything?”

  She shook her head. “No. It took your mother some time to warm up to me, but I guess that’s understandable.”

  Maybe. Although if you ask me, it had taken Mother a bit longer to warm up than it should have. It wasn’t like she was the only person whose husband had a child from a previous relationship. Rafe did, too.

  Granted, I knew about that before I married him, while Mother had found out about Darcy thirty-two years after Catherine was born. But that’s no reason to lace your afternoon cup of tea with brandy and be rude to your husband’s daughter. None of what happened was Darcy’s fault.

  Anyway, Mother had come around. She was nice to Darcy now, and had made up with Audrey, Darcy’s mother and Mother’s best friend—and between you and me, I think it was the fact that Audrey hadn’t told Mother the truth in thirty-three years of friendship that had hurt more than the fact that Dad hadn’t been a virgin when they got married.

  “You and Audrey doing all right?”

  “We’re doing fine,” Darcy said. “I really have to go, Savannah. Are you starting the work on the house today?”

  I nodded. “Time is money. I’ll call Charlotte and have her meet me over there. We’ll put in a couple of hours of scraping wallpaper and ripping up carpets. And I need to rent a dumpster. Hopefully they’ll be able to deliver it quickly.”

  “I’ll do that,” Darcy said. “I’ll be the one paying for it anyway.”

  “Thank you. Tell them to put it in the driveway if they can—if not, we’ll probably have to get permission from the city to leave it on the street—and to get it there as soon as they can.”

  Darcy said she would, and gave me a hug. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “I’ll be here,” I said, although of course that wasn’t entirely accurate. I was on my way to my car just as Darcy was on her way to hers.

  Until a familiar voice spoke my name. “Hello, Savannah.”

  “Oh.” I stopped and looked up. “Hello, Todd.”

  It was always a bit awkward to run into Todd. I’d known him most of my life. He was Dix’s best friend and Bob Satterfield’s son, and he’d been my boyfriend in high school. He’d wanted to be my boyfriend more recently, too, and had proposed marriage not all that long ago. He had not taken it well when I’d chosen to attach myself to Rafe instead.

  But things were better now. Todd had gotten involved with a woman named Marley Cartwright after I took up with Rafe, and they were engaged as of Christmas, so I was able to muster a genuine smile. “How are you?”

  “Good,” Todd said.

  He looked good. Of course, he’d always looked good, if you like the type. Tall and fair, in a well-cut gray suit and conservative tie, he was the very image of a Southern gentleman—and a successful attorney.

  Todd’s an assistant DA for the county. He and Marley met when he tried to prosecute her for the murder of her son, who—it turned out—wasn’t dead but kidnapped. And speaking of getting over things… I really admired Marley for putting that behind her and forgiving Todd. He’d had some fairly compelling circumstantial evidence on his side, admittedly, but still. It was big of her.

  “How’s your fiancée doing?” I asked, and Todd grimaced.

  “Throwing up.”

  My mouth dropped open, I admit it. I hiked my jaw back up. “Marley’s pregnant?”

  Was that why he’d proposed? I’d thought he’d gotten over me and found someone else, but if they were only getting married because Marley was expecting, that was a very different story.

  “I had no idea,” I said. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  He didn’t sound thrilled, I had to say. Admittedly, it was hard to know for sure without looking at him closely, and I didn’t really want to do that.

  “How far along?” I asked, thinking maybe the answer would give me some inkling.

  “Three months,” Todd answered.

  So she’d have been around six weeks along at Christmas. Just enough time to realize that she was pregnant.

  I pasted a bright smile on my face. “A summer baby.”

  Marley would be miserable during her last few months, poor thing. Summer in Middle Tennessee can be hot and humid and uncomfortable under the best of circumstances, and when you’re carrying another small human around inside you, plus some extra weight, it doesn’t help. I’d only been five and six months pregnant last summer—Carrie had been born in late November—but I’d been panting a lot, too.

  Todd nodded grimly. Or maybe the grimness was in my head. But he wasn’t smiling, and was showing none of the euphoria of the usual expectant father.

  “On your way to work?” I asked, since further talk of the pregnancy was likely to make matters worse.

  He nodded. “What about you? What are you doing here so early on a weekday?”

  “We bought a house at auction on Saturday,” I said, “and had to go to the county clerk’s office this morning to pay for it.”

  “You and Collier?” He looked around, probably for Rafe.

  I shook my head. “Darcy paid for it. Charlotte and I are going to fix it up.”

  “Something I should know about?” Todd asked, a little coyly, I thought.

  And since I was afraid he might be thinking that I was dumping Rafe and moving out on my own, I wanted to nip that thought in the bud ASAP. “Charlotte ne
eds to make some money. I need to get established with real estate here, if we’re staying. And renovating can be fun.” At least I hoped so.

  Todd nodded, and his face gave nothing away, so maybe he hadn’t been secretly hoping that I’d dumped Rafe, etc. He wasn’t supposed to be hoping that, being newly engaged to a lovely pregnant woman, who had adored him—and forgiven him for trying to convict her of murder—long before he decided he liked her.

  If he did in fact like her, and hadn’t proposed just because she was pregnant.

  I wrenched my thoughts away from that path a second time as Todd asked, “Where’s the house?”

  “Fulton Street,” I said, and watched his brows lower. He didn’t say anything, though, so after a few seconds, I broke the silence myself. “Something wrong?”

  “No,” Todd said, but didn’t sound entirely sure.

  “It looks like a nice street. Well-maintained houses. Not upper-class, you know, but nice. And there’s a cop living down the street. Carl Enoch. If there’s a policeman living there, I’m sure it’s safe.”

  Todd nodded, but still didn’t look convinced.

  “Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” I asked.

  He seemed to shake it off and gave me a faint smile. “I thought I heard something about Fulton Street recently. But I can’t remember what it was. I could be wrong.”

  I nodded. “Speaking of hearing of things… has anyone—has your dad—told you about Laurel Hill?”

  “Yes,” Todd said and firmed his lips together in a tight line. “The DA’s office will be ready to prosecute if anything happens in our jurisdiction.”

  Good to know. Laurel Hill was out of their jurisdiction, of course, so anything that happened there would be under Lawrence County’s district attorney, but if any of the bastards—excuse my French—turned out to live and breathe in Maury County, and they stepped a toenail over the line, it sounded like Todd and his boss would be all over it.

  He glanced over his shoulder toward the entrance to the DA’s office, also located on the square. “I should go.”