Panic made my pulse dance. We’d not given his full name for good reason. Trace had mentioned that when he’d spoken to Mrs. Campbell on the phone, she told him to use another name. Jane wouldn’t have let him in otherwise. So we’d introduced him as Mr. Phillips—a play off his middle name.

Before Trace could respond, Valene turned an eye on him. When he came around the chair, she extended a claw-like hand. Her knuckles were bulbous and liver-spotted. “Tracemore Dawson, as I live and breathe.”

Jane Younger’s eyes bugged out of her head. She sputtered, “Trace Dawson? You mean The Butcher—”

“Yep, that’s the one.” Valene chuckled as Trace squatted beside her wheelchair to clasp her hand. “Run along now, Janie. I’ll be fine.”

“But Nana—”

“Run along,” Valene drawled, her smile as crooked and toothless as it was brittle. “And close the door.”

Jane batted a worried look between Trace and me. “See that you don’t get her worked up,” she hissed. After one last cagey glance at Trace, she stalked out and shut the door soundly behind her.

I stood over the old woman’s chair. “If this is a bad time….”

“Forget about Janie,” Valene said. “That’s just her way.” Trace was still crouched beside her, his face expressionless. She patted his hand. “Hearing your voice last week was a blessing. I didn’t think you wanted to see me, boy. I wasn’t even sure you got my letter, much less read it.”

There was something in his eyes when he looked at the old woman, something I couldn’t read. Anxiety? Resentment? Maybe a little of both. “Well, I’m here,” he said in a low, edgy voice. “And I’m listenin’.”

The web of lines in Valene’s careworn face deepened. She shook her gray head and the loose bun tacked to her crown drooped to the left. “Sorry about your mama, boy,” she said in a quiet voice. “A sweet soul, that Dottie. Um-hmm.”

“Yes, ma’am, she was,” Trace muttered, his eyes hard.

Talk about awkward moments. I pulled up a chair and joined them, anxious to pick the old woman’s brain. “We don’t want to take too much of your time.” I slipped my cell phone from my purse. “Do you mind if I record our conversation?”

Mrs. Campbell looked taken aback for a moment. She glanced off. “Well…no. No, I guess I don’t mind, Little Miss.” She folded her gnarled hands. “This is a great opportunity for me. Now I get to say what I didn’t in the letter I sent Tracemore. So yeah, record away.” She gave a solemn nod. “Go on. Park yourself.”

Trace pushed to a stand and grabbed an armless Windsor chair from the corner. He flipped the thing around, straddled it and propped his arms over the back.

We formed a triangle, with the wheelchair-bound woman making the top point. He glanced at me, but didn’t hold my gaze. Even with this old woman in the room, the tension from earlier was still there, still sharp—still hot.

We’d barely spoken ten words on the long drive over here.

“First things first,” Valene said, looking at me. “You have questions about Lily.”

Lily? I wasn’t used to hearing Mother referred to in such familiar terms, especially by a former servant. But then, I suspected there were more surprises to come.

“How well did you know Miz Bradford?” Trace asked.

Valene flicked her gaze at the ceiling and the cataract in her left eye caught the light. “Oh, I knew her real good. Um-hmm. Too good, actually.” She sighed. “Always figured she’d self-destruct. First time she showed up for a meeting, I sensed it. It was the darkness. Lost souls give it off, you know.”

Trace rested his chin on a fist. “What meeting?”

“AA. That’s where me and Lily first met.”

I blinked hard. “Alcoholics Anonymous?”

“Don’t be surprised.” Valene chuckled and her expression warmed. “Yes, I’m an alcoholic. Been dry twenty-three years.”

“Forgive me, Mrs. Campbell….” I shook my head. “It’s just such a surprise. I didn’t know Mother had sought help.”

The old woman gave a swift nod. “Oh, she did. Many times. Went back to the meetings after your daddy died. Master Harrison’s passing was a wake-up call for her, but she didn’t stick it out. Every day I asked her to get help knowing what she was doing to you.” She lowered her eyes. “I just didn’t do enough, I guess. I’m sorry, Little Miss.”

Absolution. That’s why Valene Campbell wanted to meet. She’d carried this guilt for years. The three of us had a lot in common there. I reached out and squeezed her hand.

Valene slanted a glance at Trace. “They never should’ve sent you away. I always know’d you was innocent. Would’ve said as much were it not for that green-eyed devil.”

Trace and I exchanged a puzzled look.

Valene’s toothless mouth worked. “Gray,” she spat the name out like a curse. “Lord, but it feels good to get this off my chest.” Then she whispered, “He’s why Janie didn’t want me speakin’ with ya. She was just trying to protect me.”

TRACE

____________________________

Now stuff was getting interesting. I tipped the chair forward, my attention lasered on the old woman. “Did Sheriff Gray make a threat?”

Her silver brows crested. “In a way, yes. It started with the calls. First one come ‘bout two months before you got out.”

“That’s when I started asking questions,” Shannon added.

“I answered his first call,” Valene said. “Got so mad my pressure shot up. It put me in the hospital for a week. Janie—she started answering the phone after that. She had them rollin’ over to her cell phone so she could deal with ‘im.” Valene’s eyes lifted to me. “If she hadn’t forgotten to take the phone with her the day you called, y’all wouldn’t be here.”

“Wow.” Surprise edged Shannon’s voice. “So Jane really was concerned about your health.”

“Oh, yeah. I tole you, Gray gets me worked up. She worries ‘cause I’m all she’s got. What, with her husband dead. No chil’ren of her own. A sad one, she is, my Jane.” Valene pursed her lips, then reached for Shannon’s hand. “I tried to help you when you was little, but that devil Gray had something on me.”

“He was blackmailing you?” I asked.

Valene tossed a nod in my direction. “‘Cept money wasn’t involved. I called him the night before Lily died when y’all had the pool fight—soon as I hung up with Dottie. I thought it would help since Gray was Master Harrison’s best friend.” She swung a look at Shannon. “I tole him Lily was still beating on you.”

“Still?” Shannon frowned. “You called him before?”

“Lotsa times. I even threatened to contact Protective Services. That’s when his devil side came out.”

I tipped the chair forward some more. The whole situation was twisted as hell. “Go on.”

“I did some things in my youth that I’m not proud of,” she said staring off. “Gray found out and tole me long as I kept my mouth shut, my secrets was safe.”

“So you were afraid?” I asked.

She gave a helpless shrug. “My husband didn’t know of my other life. Gray said he’d make it so nobody would hire me.” Her eyes pleaded. “Can you forgive me, boy? Please say you can.”

I knew how it felt to have your livelihood threatened. Lilith had done it to Mama and me. When you’re dirt-poor, money, or the lack of it, can bring even the strongest people to their knees. Mrs. Campbell was no exception.

I looked the old woman in the eye. Hers were liquid. “Yeah,” I said. “I think I can do that.”

She sniffed, dabbing her cheeks with a corner of the quilt. Relief softened the lines in her face. “Thank you.”

Shannon glanced from me to Valene, waited a few moments for the old woman to collect herself, then, “Why didn’t Uncle Jackson want you to talk?”

“I haven’t a clue, dear heart. Him and your family were very secretive. They didn’t want nobody sayin’ nothin’. And they had the money and power to get away with it, too. Said we all better catch amnesia about Lilith and Sears—”