Page 132 of Tasting Fire
33
After Karen Southerlandstunned the entire community with school violence and killed herself, the North Carolina mountains seemed to mourn for days. The clouds moved in low and hung over Steele Ridge as if they’d never allow the sunshine through again.
Cash’s mood had been much the same, even though he’d talked Emmy into coming home with him and they’d taken refuge in his bed. They’d both been required to take a week off from the station and hospital. But any time Emmy wanted to talk about what had happened, he’d either kissed her or ignored her.
Not exactly the kind of attitude that showed a woman he cared.
His family had paraded in and out of his house at will, bringing hugs, comforting words, and in his mom’s case, a batch of gingerbread and dried kiwi cookies. It spoke to his state of mind that he’d eaten them all.
This morning, when he’d woken, the sun was a fireball in the sky and Emmy was gone. She’d probably had about all of his brooding ass that she could stand.
Totally understandable.
Cash happened to catch a quick peek at himself as he was hauling himself into the shower, and hell, he definitely understood why Emmy’d made a break for it. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she fled the state.
His hair needed a cut and stood up all over his head like half-sprouted crabgrass. And on his face he wore something so far beyond a five o’clock shadow that it looked as if he’d been covered with potting soil from his cheeks to his throat.
If he didn’t know better, he would’ve diagnosed himself with a bender hangover and prescribed a banana bag. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a cure for an emotional hangover like this.
Before he could haul himself to the shower, his phone rang and his sister’s name popped up on the screen. “Hey, Mags. I was just about to—”
“I already caught Emmy this morning, but I wanted to update you on our investigation into Karen Southerland.”
Cash’s stomach squeezed into a ball.
“Turns out, Oliver Amory is a condescending asshole, but he’s not a murderer.”
“It really was her, wasn’t it?”
“She might’ve been crazy as hell under all that professional pretense, but damn, she was smarter than any of us could’ve guessed,” Maggie told him. “She was responsible for everything but Emmy’s lawsuit.”
“Fuck.” Deep inside, he’d known. Cash rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and closed his eyes to center himself. “Just give it to me straight.”
“The short version is that she hired students—present and past—to do the dirty work for her. The brick through the window was thrown by a guy named Robbie Cappell who graduated from high school four years ago. Windell Owens is a senior who she’d promised a big e-sports scholarship to. Completely empty promise, of course. The fire she actually set herself.”
“And Jesse Giddings?” he asked.
“One of the critical care nurses at St. Elizabeth’s owed her education and career to financial assistance that Southerland helped her secure. She’s been charged with murder. The fact that the drug used matched Oliver Amory’s preferred anesthesia was just a coincidence. Even worse, though, is that our McGarvey was in her pocket. Even if that kid hadn’t reached for something in his pocket, McGarvey would’ve found a way to put him in the hospital. The nurse was supposed to take it from there. Karen Southerland was smart. Sick, but smart.”
“And she took so many people down with her.”
As horrible as it was, the woman had not taken down Emmy. In Cash’s world, that was what mattered most. So he needed to get his shit together and go find her.
In the shower, he scrubbed like a man possessed, and shaved while the mirror over the sink was still steamed up. Afterward, he texted Emmy.
Cash:Maggie called. Confirmed Southerland’s many crimes.
Emmy:I’m really sorry, Cash.
Cash:She was sick. What matters most is that ur safe now. Where r u, anyway?
Emmy:Mountain Springfest. Why don’t u grab some coffee?
That seemed a little random, even though it was still before noon.
Cash:What?
Emmy:Don’t ask Qs. Just chk the coffeepot.
