Rock-a-Bye Bones by Carolyn Haines

me. “You have a problem on your hands.”
    I couldn’t even pretend I didn’t know what she was talking about. “I don’t know what to do. That baby, overnight, is her and Oscar’s world.”
    All merriment fled Cece’s face. “When you find that baby mama, there’s going to be hell to pay.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œI’ll give Coleman a call,” Cece offered. “Maybe it would be best if he took the infant to Child Services sooner rather than later.”
    â€œNo!” I didn’t mean to sound so emphatic. “Tinkie has her because that’s what’s best for the baby. Pulling her away now won’t keep Tinkie and Oscar from getting hurt, but putting Libby into the system might be damaging. We’re in this. We’ll just have to keep on course to the bitter end.”

 
    8
    I wasn’t the type to suffer prophetic dreams, but the conversation with Cece must have lodged deep in my subconscious because I spent the night chasing after little Libby, who had suddenly grown into a baby with Olympic track abilities. She crawled faster than I could run. I chased her over the river and through the woods, while she scooted about like a nymph from Greek mythology.
    In the background of the dream, Tinkie searched for the baby, calling to her in a plaintive voice. She sounded like a lost soul.
    I woke up at daybreak, exhausted. I had to find Pleasant Smith—for Libby’s sake and for my partner. And I had to find out who’d stabbed Rudy Uxall. He was my best lead.
    First on my agenda was Rudy. I called DeWayne, who filled me in on his investigation into the young man’s death. Uxall had been stabbed in the thigh. The blade had nicked the femoral artery, and medical care could have saved his life.
    â€œAn inch to the left and it would have been a muscle injury and Uxall would be alive,” DeWayne said. “If he’d gone to the hospital, he’d be alive. I found out something else, too. Rudy got into a fight with a muscular blond man about a month ago at the Waystation Bar on the Bolivar County line. The fight was about a pregnant woman who’d been playing and singing in the bar.”
    â€œHow’d you find this out?”
    â€œI tracked down Rudy’s family. Hoss Kincaid had to break the bad news to them about Rudy’s death. He said one of the Uxall brothers told him Rudy had been in a fight with an ex-con.”
    â€œName?”
    â€œHe didn’t know. But the brother, Alfred Uxall, said the fight was about a pregnant singer. It has to be Pleasant. Alfred denied knowing anything about Pleasant or how Rudy was involved with her.”
    â€œThanks, DeWayne.”
    â€œHow’s Coleman’s case going?” I missed Coleman. I’d become spoiled by having him as a sounding board.
    â€œHe hopped a private plane to Memphis this morning at six. Should be back by two. He’s with the three bodies, waiting for the autopsy. He’s worried, Sarah Booth. This kind of element in Sunflower County is more than we can manage. Even with help from the state investigators and the highway patrol, we can’t cover the land area we need to patrol.”
    â€œWatch Coleman’s back,” I requested.
    â€œWill do.”
    DeWayne gave me Rudy’s address, which turned out to be not too far from the road where Charity Smith lived. Although it was in Bolivar County, I went anyway. Hoss Kincaid would just have to get over himself.
    When I pulled up in the yard, I knew I’d made a mistake. Rudy’s kin had gathered to wake his death. They were a burly group of four large men and the fiercely unhappy glare they sent my way should have warned me off. I couldn’t let it.
    A big man, at least six-foot-six, came toward the car. “We’re not interested in talking with anyone,” he said. “You can leave the same way you came in.”
    I introduced myself and got a long glare