Gin Fling (Bootleg Springs, #5)(14)

“No. I have no hard feelings toward Lacey. I do, however, have hard feelings toward you forcing me to cohabitate with a reporter who came to town just to get dirt about our father.” I was yelling now. I blamed it on my overexposure to the Bodines. None of them could speak at normal volume for longer than a minute or two.

“First of all, have you even tried talking to Shelby? Because you, brother dear, are sorely mistaken about Shelby’s line of work. Though that’s mostly Cassidy’s fault,” Scarlett said, joining me in shouting range.

“Hey!” Cassidy complained at being thrown under the bus.

“Secondly,” Scarlett continued, ignoring her best friend’s outburst, “I didn’t force you to cohabitate with anybody. I have a business to run and a house to build. I don’t know why you feel like you should get special treatment at my expense—”

“Admit it, Scar. You put us in that house together on purpose.”

“How dare you, Jonah Bodine! I did no such thing!” Scarlett’s gasp moved paper napkins across the table. She was lying. We all knew it. Except maybe Scarlett.

Cassidy groaned, and Bowie leaned in to give her shoulder a fortifying squeeze. “Okay, listen up,” she said. “This fight is super entertaining, but I’ve gotta be at the station in twenty minutes, and I thought y’all would want an update on the body.”

That shut everyone up.

“Did they identify her?” Scarlett asked.

Gibson’s hands were fisted on the table, his knuckles white.

“Well, it’s not gonna be that easy,” Cassidy said, slipping into official mode. “The skeletal remains were found during excavation for a new housing development. As of right now, they still haven’t found the skull.”

I pushed my eggs around on my plate, not so hungry anymore.

“What in the hell happened to her head?” Scarlett asked.

“Jesus, did someone decapitate her?” Jameson asked looking a little green around the gills.

Cassidy shrugged. “It’s unlikely. It was a shallow grave, so things like predators are a factor. It could be there. Investigators are goin’ through the site with fine-tooth combs. But basically, without dental records, it’s gonna be damn hard to identify the body.”

“What about DNA?” I asked.

“With remains that have been exposed to the elements that long? It’s unlikely at best,” she predicted.

“But they think it’s her,” Gibson said flatly. “They think that body is Callie Kendall.”

“According to the reports the locals are sharing with us, the approximate age of the remains and size are a potential match for Callie,” Cassidy admitted. “They can tell she was somewhere between fifteen and eighteen years old at the time of death and died somewhere between twelve to fourteen years ago. So it’s a possibility. Given the fact that the remains were found less than twenty miles from where your father got the speeding ticket, it takes it from possible and nudges it on up to the edge of probable.”

Scarlett crossed her arms but remained silent. She’d staunchly believed in and loudly defended our father’s innocence. Gibson, however, was equally stubborn in his belief that Jonah Sr. was a murderer. The rest of us fell somewhere in the middle.

“I’m sorry, Scar,” Cassidy said, squeezing her shoulder.

Bowie leaned over and patted his sister’s knee. “It’s gonna be all right. No matter what,” he promised.

“Anyway, I know this isn’t great news. And I know y’all are damn tired of the whole thing. But until investigators find the skull, we won’t know anything. So just hang in there. Stick together. We’ll get through this together.”

Scarlett shoved her half-eaten pancakes away. “I don’t know about y’all, but I’m sick and tired of bein’ sick and tired.”

“I hate waiting for the other boot to drop,” Bowie agreed. “We find the sweater in Dad’s stuff. The blood is Callie’s. Then she’s alive and all ‘Oh, hey, I was just living with a weird boyfriend and his cult family for the last decade.’ And Dad was just a guy trying to help a girl out. Then Mom’s accident might not have been an accident. Now there’s a dead body. How much not knowing can we all take?”

I only shared some blood with them. I was free to leave at any time. But my brothers and sister had planted their roots deep here. They didn’t have the option to go and start over. To escape.

“What do you suggest?” Jameson asked wearily.

“You know what we’re gonna do?” Scarlett said, rising out of her chair. “We’re throwin’ the biggest shindig Bootleg Springs has ever seen, and we’re going to eat, drink, and dance ourselves stupid.”

“You’re damn right, we are,” Bowie said, throwing his napkin on the table. He stood and pressed a kiss to Cassidy’s mouth. “Deputy Tucker, will you do the honor of being my date?”

“How is any of this going to help figure out what Dad had to do with Callie or what happened to Mom?” Gibson asked, more wearily than angry.

Scarlett circled the table and put her arms around his neck. “It isn’t gonna do a damn thing other than remind us that we’re still here. We all survived.”

Gibson reached up and squeezed Scarlett’s hand tight, and I saw something that looked like grief flicker over his face.