61 - Dire Warnings

By (semi) popular request, here's a bonus chapter.  :)


“So did they beg for a dog?” Dorothea asked with wry humor.

The two youngest Bongiovi children had just raced through the family room, ahead of Jon, with a quick hello for their mother before jetting upstairs to their bedrooms.  There had been a heated discussion in the car about “Call of Duty” and he could only assume they were making a beeline to the game system so they could resolve it. 

“Nope.”  He tucked his sunglasses into the v-neck of the black t-shirt he was attached to as of late and lifted the bill of his favorite black cap to scratch his forehead, thinking that the SPCA thing hadn’t been nearly as bad as he expected. 

There had been a costume contest for dogs – never in his life had he expected to see a pug in a mermaid’s tail and wig – and there was aisle after aisle of booths offering owners the opportunity to buy organic dog treats, chew toys, animal décor, jewelry and other animal-centric doodads.  There were even obstacle courses and places to dip your dog’s paw in paint so you could take home their “finger paintings”.  That was a little over the top from his perspective, but he was a live and let live kind of guy, so he just shook his head and chalked up another one for experience.

All he cared was that it was blessedly free of orphaned dogs and he was home before noon.  It was a win-win as far as he was concerned.

“Nope.”  He pushed his hands in his pockets and remained standing since he didn’t plan to stay.  “They weren’t pimping out dogs.  It was more like a carnival for them.  Weird, but not bad.”

“Glad it was tolerable.”  Putting aside her iPad, she cordially inquired, “You have plans for the rest of the day?”

“Studio.  Need to figure out what the hell I have and don’t have for this fucking album.  I’m going to check in with the accountant and see how he’s coming with the financials on the Titans, too, so I’ll probably be holed up most of the afternoon.” 

Which would give him ample opportunity to do all of that and call Cassidy.  The boys and he had been having breakfast when he got her text this morning and it had forced him to keep it short.  Considering that she should be out at the cabin by now, he was itching to make sure everything was still quiet in Tennessee.

“Okay.”  His wife nodded and went back to her iPad.  “I thought we’d go to Dublin House for dinner.  About six?”

They sometimes went to the little Irish place in Red Bank with the kids because they liked the burgers and wings.  He didn't mind it since they had salads and some seafood but he hoped like hell they weren't hosting live Celtic music tonight.  He liked music better than most people, but last time their table had been right next to the group of musicians and it had made talking impossible.

Not necessarily a bad thing right now.

Last night and this morning had been… awkward.  Both of them were stilted with one another and they’d spent the night on opposite edges of their king-size bed.  That much had suited him fine, because there had been the idea in Jon’s head that she was going to initiate sex and he couldn’t go there yet.  Thank God, it hadn’t happened.

“Sure, I’ll be down before that.”

With that, he worked his way through to the other end of the house, exiting through the south door closest to the studio.  He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jacket and hunched up his shoulders against the still-cool April breeze coming off the Navesink River while briskly walking the path that he’d walked countless times before.  His foot had just hit the bottom step of the staircase when his phone rang.

Taking it from his pocket and flipping open the cover, he continued to climb the stairs while registering that the call was from an unfamiliar number in Tennessee.  Unfamiliar or not, he thought as he stepped inside the studio, there was no way in hell he was declining a call from Tennessee on the off chance it was Cassidy.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hello.  Is this Jon?”

The feminine voice had a similar southern drawl, but it definitely wasn’t Cassidy.

“Who is this?”

“My name is Libby.  I’m Glory’s sister.”

His stomach clenched with dread, instinctively knowing that she wasn’t calling him to pass the time of day.  Hell, for her to even have his number…

“Where is she?  What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know where she is,” said the voice that was so much like Cassidy’s yet not.  “That’s why I’m callin’.  She called me about fifteen minutes ago, sayin’ our cousin’ was behind her on the road, followin’ her to the place she’s been stayin’.”

He’d known she shouldn’t stay there by herself.  This very thing was what Jon had been worried about when leaving her yesterday, but she had to be a damn stubborn woman and have it her way.

Fuck.  Goddamn.  Son.  Of.  A.  Bitch. 

“Gerald Ray?  That cousin?”

“Yessir.  If I didn’t hear back from her, I was to get in touch with you because she said you’d know where she was headin’ and would keep that friggin’ gold safe if somethin’ happened.  I was supposed to wait an hour before callin’, but fifteen minutes was all I could stand.  Is there anything you can do?”

No.  There wasn’t.  There was not a single goddamn thing he could do to help her from motherfucking New Jersey.  Sure, he could go down and get her damn treasure and keep it away from the uncle, but he couldn’t do a fucking thing to keep her safe. 

Not a single fucking thing.

He couldn’t even call the police and ask them to go check out the cabin, because she supposedly had a warrant out for her arrest.  That tied his hands in a big way.

Don’t you think it’s better for her to sit in jail for a few days, alive, than end up dead? 

He ran an angry hand though his hair and paced agitatedly from one end of the studio to another, racking his brain for an alternative solution.  It would take him at least four hours to get down there and, if he couldn’t bring in the police, what other choice was there?  Did he know anyone who was remotely close to that little bumfucked town that he could trust?  Anyone at all? 

There was Tully, but the guy hadn’t much liked him from the start and Jon couldn’t say he trusted him.  Considering how fast he’d taken Obie’s money to hear Cassidy sing, Tully would probably sell out his own mother if there was a fast buck in it.

Clay.

Clay liked Cassidy and was a good guy in Jon’s experience.  He would do this, if it came down to it.

“Yeah.  I have a friend that knows her.  He might be able to go check things out, but let’s wait another few minutes and hope she calls.  As soon as you hear anything – or if you don’t hear in another ten minutes – let me know, okay?”

“Alright,” she sighed, sounding very much like her sister with that single word.  God knew he’d heard it from Cassidy in that exact tone enough times.  “I’m sorry to be overanxious, but she…  She doesn’t seem to think anything will come of this with Gerald Ray, but I just can't take a chance on her bein’ wrong.  Glory means the world to me.  I don’t know what I’d do if somethin’ was to happen to her.”

You aren’t the only one.

###

Lord, if You could keep this from turnin’ ugly, I’d mightily appreciate it.

Pasting on a wide smile to meet fair-haired Gerald Ray’s unhappy scowl, Cassidy rolled down the Jeep window as though she’d last seen him at a family reunion rather than at the end of a rifle.  After all, if she was asking the Lord’s help, she ought to do her part in preventing that ugliness.

“Well, if this isn’t a surprise,” she lazily drawled even as her heart beat an uncertain rhythm.  “Gerald Ray, what are you doin’ here?”

“You know damn well what I’m doin’ here, Glory.” 

The thumping in her chest didn’t ease entirely, but she did take comfort in his tone.  It wasn’t full of hate or menace, just the usual crabbiness he’d always shown to her when she was being a pesky younger cousin.  That meant he probably wasn’t going to kill her.

See, Jon?  I told you.

“I see we aren’t gonna bother with pleasantries.”

His arms crossed over the chest of an unusually subdued – for him – navy Hawaiian shirt, reminding Cassidy that she’d gotten the small stature from her mother’s side of the family.  Her father and Uncle Stanley stood well over six feet tall, and Gerald Ray stood right there with them, with arms as big around as a tree trunk.

He reminded her of a bouncer and she idly thought that he could bounce her around like a beach ball if he took a notion.  While he probably wasn’t going to kill her, it was always possible that he wanted to rattle something into or out of her – like sense or where the treasure was buried.

“I might’ve been more pleasant if I hadn’t just chased you all over Hell and half-acre,” he informed her crossly, looking ready to pull her out of the Jeep and start bouncing.  “And if you hadn’t set fire to every-damn-thing.  What the hell were you thinkin’, girl?”

The implication that she had done something stupid rubbed her the wrong way, mainly because it might be true.  Still yet, her fingers curled tightly over the bottom of the steering wheel until the knuckles turned white and Cassidy stuck her chin out defiantly.  Her cousin may be bigger and older, but he didn’t have any more backbone than she did. 

“I was thinkin’ y’all weren’t gonna get what MeMaw didn’t intend for you to have.”

His incredulous laugh was just rude, and she clutched the steering wheel tighter to keep from reaching out the window to pop him one.   “Personally,” he snorted.  “I didn’t want a damn thing other than Papaw’s shotgun that you and Libby used to chase us off the property.  I don’t guess you managed to save that from the fire?”

She had, in fact.  It was stored along with all the other family keepsakes in Old Man Marcum’s abandoned barn on the edge of town.  She’d towed her car full of memorabilia there on the night of the fire, knowing that no one had been out there in years. 

“Gerald Ray, you’re startin’ to irk me.  What is it you want?  Are you stallin’ long enough for the police to get here or what?  Because, if ya are, that’s fine and dandy.  I’ll sit in jail before y’all get Pappy Sam’s gold.”

His arms uncrossed and open hands reached out as though he wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, but Gerald Ray caught himself and those hands dropped harmlessly to his sides.  Eyes that were nearly as blue as her own fell shut and, if she wasn’t mistaken, he was praying for patience.  When they opened again, he pinned her with the same look that woman in the drugstore had given her badly behaved little boy. 

“What I want is to tell you Daddy saw the pictures of you and Jon Bon Jovi.  He knows you’re in or around Nashville, even though I didn’t mention seein’ you at that restaurant.  It’s only a matter of time before he finds you and, when it does, it ain’t gonna be pretty.  He’s pissed as all get-out, girl, and he is gonna take it out on you.”

That sparked several questions in her mind, the first and foremost being why was he telling her this in the first place?  She also was curious as to why he didn’t tell Uncle Stanley he’d seen her. 

“Let’s back up just a minute, okay?”  Cassidy finally released the steering wheel and twisted in the seat, propping her forearms on the open windowsill to face him full-on.  “First of all, the restaurant.  I assumed you hadn’t seen me, but since you’re sayin’ you did, have you been lyin’ in wait for me since then?  Freakin’ stalkin’ me?”

A weary hand rubbed over his eyes and down his cheek.  “You’ve been readin’ too many spy novels, or somethin’.  I was at the Walgreens when you knocked over that stack of Bounty.”

“Well, then, why didn’t you just talk to me there?”

“Because I didn’t think this was a subject suited for mixed company,” her cousin sighed with aggravation.  “Look, I tried to catch you at the parkin’ garage, but you were in your Jeep before I could catch ya.  It just so happened that I found you headin’ toward the highway and here I am.”

This still wasn’t ringing quite right with Cassidy.  He’d been standing right behind Uncle Stanley’s shoulder when that phony will was read and when those threats were made.  What had suddenly changed his tune?

“Why didn’t you tell your daddy about seein’ me?”

“Mostly because I think this whole thing is damn ridiculous.” 

“Then why did you stand right there and let it happen?!  If you’d shown even the least little bit of support for me and Libby, MeMaw’s house wouldn’t be a pile of ashes!”

His hands extended toward her for another brief second before he grumbled and propped them on his hips.

“How in the hell was I supposed to know you’d do somethin’ so damn stupid?  I figured y’all would just give him what he wanted and didn’t see no sense in causin’ more of a ruckus than need be.”

“Guess you figured wrong.”

“I swear to God if you sass me one more time,” he growled.  “I’m gonna haul you outta that Jeep and put you over my knee.  Just shut up and listen for a minute, would ya?”

Cassidy stubbornly set her jaw and leveled him with a look that would wither most men.  He, however, still regarded her as a scrawny fourteen-year-old in pigtails and blatantly returned the look.

“Go on,” she grudgingly ordered.

“Lord help me to pray,” he muttered under his breath.  “Listen, Squirt.  Daddy’s obsessed as all-hell over that gold.  I’ve never seen him so crazy over somethin’ in my life and there’s a possibility that his cheese has done gone and slipped off his cracker.  Wiley down at the pawn shop told me Daddy bought himself a .357 Magnum revolver the other day with a whole lot of bullets.  Now, do I need to paint you a picture of what might happen if he gets his hands on you?”

“If he’s lost his mind, then why don’t you have him committed?”

“Because he ain’t done nothin’ yet, dammit!  Folks around that town have known him his whole life as a fine upstandin’ citizen.  They aren’t gonna do shit unless there’s proof.   Do you wanna be the proof?”

The heart that had settled back into a normal rhythm kicked up its pace again.

Okay, Jon.  I guess maybe you were right to be worried.

“No,” she relented.  “I don’t need any extra air holes in my head.  I was just here to pick up my things and color my hair before headin’ out, anyway.”

For the first time since appearing at her driver’s window, his features relaxed and the corners of his mouth turned up just a little.  “You oughta keep the red.  It suits you.”

She shook her head and chuckled.  Who knew that Gerald Ray would ever offer an opinion on her hair?

“Lemme ask you this.  What do you think it’s gonna take for Uncle Stanley to back off?  What will end this?”

Her cousin sighed, lifting his shoulders in an apologetic shrug.  “He’s not gonna stop until he has his ‘birthright’ – that’s his word, not mine.”

She was just about to press further when a melodic chiming began to peal from the passenger’s seat, and Cassidy twisted around to see Jon’s name on the screen.  It hadn’t been an hour, but she bet Libby had already called him.  That girl had no patience whatsoever.

“Hold on, I’ve gotta grab this.”  Snatching up the phone, she swiped a finger over the screen.  “Hey.”

“Where the fuck are you?  Are you okay?  What happened with your cousin?”  The stream of questions was heated and spit forth so fast that there was no time to answer before the next one came at her. 

“We’re still talkin’, but there’s nothin’ to worry about.”

Gerald Ray snorted and shook his head at her, but she flapped a hand at him to hush. 

“You’re safe?” Jon pushed, her answer obviously not appeasing him.  “You’re not hurt and aren’t in danger of being hurt?”

It was wrong for his distress to warm her heart.  She was sure of it, but Cassidy couldn’t stop it any more than she could stop the sunlight from streaming through the leaves overhead.  Whatever had happened in New Jersey last night, it hadn’t affected his unlabeled feelings and she was...  glad.

“I’m fine and I’ll call you back in a few minutes with the details,” she promised gently, hoping to smooth his ruffled feathers.  “But is it too late to accept the offer of someplace to stay for the weekend?”