to you in front of a stranger, but with you fainting and all, do you think there is any way you could be, you know…?”
“No!” they both answered in unison.
Gladys frowned, looking from Dante to Taffy with growing suspicion. It was time for him to change the subject. “Ms. Harbison,” he said, rising to his feet and displaying his shield. “I’m Special Agent Dante Cabrera with the Drug Enforcement Administration.”
Taffy gasped audibly, but he didn’t look at her.
“You’re whuut?” Gladys snatched his shield out of his hand and inspected it, then she shoved it back at him. “You got a subpoena?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Well, I haven’t changed my mind. I already spoke to that girl and told her no—no, I will not let ya’ll harass Fern!”
Dante nodded. “I completely understand your concerns, but I assure you—”
“Git.” Gladys pointed to the front door. “Go out the way you came and don’t let the screen door slap you in the ass.”
Dante sighed. “Thank you for your time.” He made quick eye contact with Taffy, hoping she’d understand that he’d be waiting for her. “Have an enjoyable evening, ladies.”
Chapter 8
A few minutes later, the bubble-gum-pink, white-walled behemoth rolled to a stop at the state highway intersection, and Dante made sure Taffy saw his sedan before he pulled onto the road. She followed behind, repeatedly glancing in her rearview mirror, either making sure no one saw them together or checking her makeup—no way to know for sure.
But where the hell did Dante think he was taking her? All the way to Asheville to his place? How about to her place, where she lived with her grandfather and great-aunt? That oughta work out real good. A coffee shop? A cheap motel? He started laughing at the absurdity of the situation, realizing he didn’t know where to take Taffy because he didn’t know what she’d want from him or even what he wanted from her.
He only knew he wanted her.
Suddenly, the Coupe de Ville roared past him on the left, and Taffy drove a couple hundred feet then signaled. She made a U-turn, motioning out the open window for him to follow.
Dante found himself laughing. And it occurred to him that the last time he’d laughed like that was in the hotel room in D.C.—the last time he’d been with Tanyalee Marie Newberry.
He followed the Caddy as it climbed along the state highway, winding its way up the mountain. He had no idea where the woman was headed. Hell, maybe she was escorting him to the Tennessee state line, where she’d crack him across the face and call him every name in the book for violating her privacy. He might even deserve such punishment, if this meeting hadn’t been mostly coincidence. After all, how could he have known Taffy was visiting Gladys Harbison and the scruffy daughter of a dead meth cook?
Just then, the pink land yacht turned left onto Randall Road, whatever the hell that was. Seconds later, there was a sudden clearing of trees, and Dante glanced to his right. He wasn’t sure why he was so shocked at the view, since he’d lived in Asheville for several months now, but he sucked in his breath. Golden evening light poured down into the valley, and the Great Smokies rippled in waves of purples, browns, greens, and blues for what looked like forever. He watched a hawk swoop down through the sky, obviously on a mission.
Dante returned his attention to the road, smiling to himself. Brooklyn had thin-crust pizza, street art, Peter Pan Donuts, and more than a hundred and seventy subway stations—but it didn’t have anything like this.
The de Ville signaled and turned left again, and Dante had a flash of understanding. He remembered that one of Taffy’s previous addresses was here on Newberry Lane, but that was when she’d been married to DeCourcy, who was now married to Taffy’s sister, Cheri. These people were fuckin’ nuts, no doubt about it, but his most pressing concern was why in God’s name would she want to come here, of all places?
Oh.
The setting sun reflected in a mirror-still mountain lake. Trees of every kind towered over the setting, and a charming stone house was set back about twenty yards from the water’s edge. A simple but sturdy dock jutted out into the lake, and there were two Adirondack chairs angled perfectly for viewing the sunset. The most striking thing about the place was that it was silent. No cars. No people. Just peace and quiet. And Dante was