Janice Johnson - Bone Deep

Well, hell, Grant thought in stunned realization; Hedin had a thing for Kat. Face facts: he and Mike Hedin probably weren’t alone. No, she wasn’t beautiful, not exactly, but she was sexy, even on the days when she wore shapeless overalls or, like today, a man’s sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up four or five times. And, while she was very good at being friendly, she also had that touch-me-not air that could seem like a challenge.

His eyes narrowed. The sweatshirt was Hugh’s. He’d be willing to bet on it. She still wore her husband’s clothes.

Question was, why? Because they were there, and comfortable? Or as another way to hold on to his memory?

He was suddenly, deeply offended by the sight of that faded blue sweatshirt long enough to hang halfway down her thighs. Hugh Riley hadn’t deserved her devotion. Although he had left behind a house in town and the nursery out here on the flood plain. Kat no longer had a cheating husband, but she hadn’t lost her home or her livelihood along with the husband.

She had motivation to have killed him, no question. But, damn, Grant did not want to believe she had it in her.

“I’d better run,” he said, hoping his disturbing thoughts didn’t show on his face.

She looked briefly dismayed, or maybe that was in his imagination. Then her mouth curved into a smile, presumably because Mike still waited, hopeful for her attention. “Thanks for coming.” She bent to reach for a pot on a flatbed cart, but instead straightened. “Oh. Did you get that daphne in the ground?”

That was what the shrub was called. Daphne. “It’ll have to wait until Sunday.”

“If it gets too cold before then, you might want to stick it in the garage. They can be delicate before they’re established.”

So she’d said. Or maybe it was the other nursery worker who’d told him that, he didn’t remember. Grant was beginning to see the damn plant as a challenge all its own, as if Kat and her employee both doubted his ability to make the sweet-smelling shrub happy.

“I’ll be careful,” he promised, although how you could be careful when you stuck a bush in the ground, he didn’t know. As far as he was concerned, things he planted either grew or they didn’t. If they didn’t, something else would. But this daphne he’d coddle with infant formula if he had to. If it died, he wouldn’t admit it. He’d go buy an identical one somewhere else and plant it.

As if, he thought bleakly, getting in his car, there was any chance at all that Kat Riley would ever stroll in his yard wondering where that shrub he’d bought at her nursery was.

There was one upside to the appearance of those bones. If it turned out Hugh really had been dead all these years and Kat accepted that she was a widow and not a wife… Well, then, things might be different.

Assuming, of course, that she hadn’t killed him and already knew full well she was a widow.

“YOU KNOW ALL ABOUT HER husband, right?”

Kat froze where she was, with the corner of a toolshed between her and the speaker. She knew the voice, and she knew who Melinda Simmons was talking about.

“Well, sure.” That was Jason Hebert, sounding puzzled. “I mean, someone told me he, like, disappeared.”

“Lots of people still think Kat killed him.”

Kat closed her eyes. Melinda had worked for her for two years now. Kat had given her ten rosebushes when Melinda got married and she and her new husband bought a house that hadn’t yet been landscaped. They weren’t friends, Kat hadn’t kidded herself about that, but she’d thought Melinda liked her job and liked Kat.

Guess not, Kat realized. There was too much malice in that voice to allow her even to pretend that Melinda was only idly gossiping.

“Do you?” Jason asked.

“I’m not saying that.” Melinda must have heard his surprise and maybe indignation, because she was cautious enough to backpedal. “Just that plenty of people do. Like Ron Barrett. You know, the assistant city manager. He won’t buy from Kat. Bobby says he heard Mr. Barrett say the plants here were fertilized with blood.”

“Couldn’t he get in trouble for saying that, when he doesn’t have any proof?” Jason’s father was an attorney.

“It’s not like he announced it in front of a city council meeting,” Melinda snapped. “Bobby’s dad and Mr. Barrett are friends. It was at a barbecue at my parents-in-law’s. When Mr. Barrett heard I work here.”

“Well, I don’t believe it,” Jason declared stoutly. “I like Kat. And I saw her face when she found that bone.”

His voice had receded. They were walking away. Melinda said something back, but Kat couldn’t make it out. She was glad.

She heard herself panting. God, she thought. Knowing people were talking was one thing, hearing it was another. Especially from someone she’d liked. What had she ever done to Melinda to deserve that vicious tone?

It was all she could do not to walk after them right now, take Melinda into her office and let her go. But…what if other employees thought the same? Could she fire all of them?

Except Jason. Bless him.

Ron Barrett. She’d known vaguely that he had never shopped here at the nursery, but Kat had seen his house and yard and knew he wasn’t really a gardener, so she hadn’t thought much of it. She’d only met him a couple of times. Why was he convinced she was a murderer?

Of course, there’d been talk. It was natural, when a man disappeared. Spouses were the first suspects for a reason. But nobody even knew for sure that Hugh was dead. She hadn’t believed it, not at first. And yes, she’d been left the house and business Hugh had owned before their marriage, but the house had had—and still did have—a hefty mortgage and the nursery had barely made a profit. Kat doubted she could have sold it then. Hugh had run up large credit-card bills. The equity in the house wouldn’t have done more than give her a down payment on one somewhere else, if that, once she paid off those credit cards. Hugh hadn’t had any life insurance—that required more planning for the future than he could ever be stirred to do. He hadn’t left her rich, or even semi-well off. What he had left her was the seeds of a business she’d nurtured into what it was now.

She’d done it, and on her own. Anger rose in Kat, choking her. Why would people who didn’t even know her well assume the worst about her? She didn’t understand.

Carrying the rake in one gloved hand, she strode out from behind the shed. Jason was no longer in sight, but Melinda was talking to a couple over by the lilacs. Her expression was earnest as she gestured at one in a five-gallon pot.

Firing her would only make of her a worse enemy. Gritting her teeth, Kat turned away. Raking up scattered shavings suited her mood just fine. She needed the physical exertion, the chance to sweat.

There were other, more important things she ought to be doing, but she still hadn’t worked up the nerve to dip another trowel into a wheelbarrow of potting soil or compost.

She’d had a week now without a visit from Grant Haller. Almost seven full days that felt like the sickly quiet before a tornado back in Kansas, where she’d grown up. That week, for the first time ever, Kat had dreaded opening the nursery, talking to customers who’d likely heard the whispers. She’d found herself looking at every single person differently than she had before. Wondering. It wasn’t pleasant, to find herself speculating about who might have planted those bones as a joke…or worse. About who knew exactly what had happened to Hugh and had kept his remains for some unimaginably horrific reason.

But she kept stumbling over the fact that she would have sworn everyone liked Hugh. He wasn’t perfect; she’d gotten so frustrated with him sometimes she wanted to bash him, although not lethally. His refusal to listen to ideas for changes at the nursery that might have required a little more effort on his part, or a modest outlay of money, had made her crazy. He liked plants, he liked people, but he had no business sense at all. And no ambition. He didn’t care if they made more money. He didn’t care if Sauk River Plant Nursery drew gardeners from beyond their small community. If she got mad when he blew off some suggestion of hers, he’d look at her in bemusement and wander away.