She Can Tell

by Melinda Leigh

  “Do you have a girlfriend, David?”

  He lowered the forkful of food that had been on its way to his mouth and stared at his plate. “Not at the moment.”

  Oh no. Wrong question. She’d made him more uncomfortable. Trying to think of a new conversation topic, she moved toward the counter. “Coffee?”

  David had resumed eating. He nodded midchew and swallowed. “This is incredible.”

  “It’s not much. The girls like simple food.” She brought down a mug, set it on the counter, and poured, every task taking longer one-handed. Which reminded her. “Would you mind carrying an old trunk down from the attic when you’re finished?”

  “Not at all.” David scraped the last bit of food from his plate. “Let’s go now. Coffee’s not done yet anyway.”

  He followed her upstairs. On the second floor, Sarah paused to listen at Rachel’s bedroom door for a few seconds. The rushing sound of water was muffled by the closed door. The narrow flight of steps to the attic was at the end of the hall. Except for the cleared landing and a center aisle, furniture, boxes, and other odds and ends were haphazardly piled to the seven-foot ceiling.

  “This one?” He pointed to the small black trunk at the top of the steps.

  “That’s it. I think that’s the one my grandfather used to keep in the den.” Sarah touched the filthy, tattered black leather. “Can you manage it by yourself? The handles have rotted through.”

  “I’ve got it.” David lifted the trunk in his arms with a grunt. “It’s not too heavy.”

  It had felt heavy when Sarah had been pushing it through the maze of clutter. But then, David was at least twice her size and didn’t have a broken arm.

  Downstairs, David asked, “Where do you want it?”

  “In the living room.”

  He made a left and set the box down in the old parlor in the front of the house, empty except for a couple of end tables. The upholstered furniture hadn’t survived the house’s years of neglect. Sarah switched on the only lamp.

  David fingered the lock. “I don’t want to break it. The trunk itself looks like an antique. Do you have a small screwdriver?”

  Sarah fetched one from the kitchen, then retreated to collect two mugs of coffee, which she brought in one at a time. David popped the lock and raised the lid.

  Inside was a jumble of yellowed papers and books. Perching on the edge of a table, Sarah lifted a leather-bound journal from atop the pile. The binding creaked as she opened it. The faded script would need more light than the one meager lamp at her elbow.

  David sifted through some of the papers and came up with a modern manila envelope. He slid some papers from inside and scanned them. “This says the farm is listed on the National Registry of Historic Places.”

  “Let me see.”

  With an odd expression David handed her the pages. “Does it seem weird your grandfather never mentioned it to you?”

  “My grandmother was the one who filled out the forms. She died before I was born. Guess it wasn’t important to Granddad.” Sarah scanned the pages. “Oh, it says here that the house was part of the Underground Railroad.”

  “How can a railroad drive under the ground?” Alex’s sleepy voice came from the stairs. She sat on the bottom step, blanket under her arm, peering through the spindles.

  Their footsteps must have woken her.

  “Excuse me, David. Let me put her back to bed. Help yourself to more coffee.” Sarah rose to herd the child back upstairs.

  “That’s OK. I should get going. Thanks for dinner.”

  “Wait right here, sweets.” Sarah patted Alex on the cheek, then followed David to the kitchen door. “Thanks for bringing my sister home safe.”

  “You’re welcome. Good night.” He ducked out.

  Sarah locked the door behind him and returned to herd her daughter up the steps. Knowing Alex wouldn’t let an issue go any easier than Bandit would relinquish a bone, Sarah answered the child’s question. “It wasn’t a real railroad. A long time ago, during the Civil War, runaway slaves used to hide here.”

  However much of the explanation the little girl understood, the child’s nod was too serious for her age. Sarah’s heart squeezed. She should’ve left Troy a long time ago, but she’d kept hoping he’d grow up.

  “Where did they hide?”

  Wishing she could pick her daughter up, Sarah wrapped her arm around Alex’s shoulders and steered her down the hall. “I’m not sure. The attic or basement maybe. I’ll have to do more research to find out.”

  With Alex tucked into bed, Sarah stopped at Rachel’s door. She didn’t hear any sounds. She turned the knob slowly and opened the door a crack. Rachel was sound asleep on the bed, facedown and wrapped only in a towel. Sarah tiptoed in and covered her sister with a blanket.

  Sarah leaned closer. Rachel was breathing easily, but she looked more battle scarred than Sarah. Rachel hadn’t covered the stitches on her cheek, and the puckered scars on her shoulder and arm were deep red after what must have been a long, blistering shower. The angry color would fade, just as the cut on her cheek would knit. Rachel was a warrior at heart. Her strength wasn’t in question. She would cope with her physical injuries.

  But the scars on her sister’s soul were a different story.

  Chapter Fifteen

  On the edge of town, the Watcher turned left in a small, exclusive development. The road curved gracefully between stately homes. Intermittent streetlights illuminated extra-large lots with diffuse amber circles. He looked ahead. The tall brick colonial at the end of the street was dark.

  Strange. Tanya usually kept the porch light on all night, especially when she was alone. The Watcher slowed. Something was off. He cruised to the curb and cut the lights.

  A few seconds later something moved behind the trimmed shrubs that edged the front lawn. A woman emerged. Even in the hooded jacket, he recognized her by the way she moved. Tanya. Tiptoeing in sky-high heels, she jogged down the sidewalk to the corner, where a truck idled.

  There was only one reason a woman snuck out in the middle of the night.

  The truck’s brake lights glowed briefly. Running dark, the vehicle slid away from the curb. The Watcher followed at a discreet distance. Two blocks ahead, the truck’s headlights blinked on as Tanya’s lover made a right onto the main road.

  The Watcher kept his own headlights off.

  Why did he always choose women who cheated? A memory of another betrayal intruded into his thoughts.

  Don’t worry. Just come with me. I’ll take care of you. I promise.

  He shouldn’t follow. He should turn around and go home. Things went bad when he acted without a plan. But he couldn’t help himself. He had to see.

  Tanya was going to cheat. She was going to betray her vows just like another woman had done all those years ago.

  Excitement, dread, and horror mingled in his blood.

  He wouldn’t do anything. He would only watch. Watching was his thing, after all. He had more control now than last time.

  Last time had been murder.

  “Are you sure he’s occupied?” Will drove behind the feed store his old man owned. After midnight, both the retail building and warehouse were dark. At the very back of the parking lot, in the deep shadow of an overhanging tree, Will shifted the truck into park and doused the lights. With the warehouse at their back, no one would see his truck unless he was looking for it.

  There were two reasons he brought women here for sex. One, a dickhead cop couldn’t arrest him for sex in public or indecent exposure or any other trumped-up charge because the parking lot was private property. Two, he never took women home. It was too hard to get rid of them. He had no interest in their conversation or opinions. This way, he just had to zip up and drop them back off wherever he’d picked them up. This was simple. Convenient. Like the drive-through at a fast-food joint.

  He could hardly go to Tanya’s house, and this was a small town. If they checked into a motel, someone would notice.

 
; On the passenger end of the bench seat, Tanya was already stripping off her clothes. “He just called. He’s going to be tied up for hours because of the fire.”

  Will shifted the seat all the way back. Watching her unhook her fancy bra and spring those huge titties, he cupped his growing erection with one hand. He wasn’t going to need hours. Hell, if she kept jiggling around like that, he wasn’t going to need minutes. “Must be hard to be married to such an important man.”

  “Not hard enough.” She giggled. Naked, Tanya straddled his lap. “I need you to fuck me.”

  “No problem.” Her boobs were right in his face. He grabbed them with both hands. They were huge and round and porn-star perfect. “Doesn’t Vince take care of you?”

  “Takes plenty care of himself.” She made a face. “More than I’d like. Damn Viagra.”

  He sucked a nipple deep into his mouth. Tanya groaned. Her practiced hands went to his belt and zipper. She had him freed in two seconds and covered in three. That was another thing he liked about Tanya. She wasn’t into foreplay. She got right down to business, like she’d spent all day thinking about his hard cock. She had no interest in anything besides fucking him.

  True to form, she stood him up and slid right down his shaft to the hilt. He grabbed her ass with both hands. Tiny stars flickered in his vision. Her tits bounced in his face as she rode him hard. He barely held on until she exploded around him.

  Not that he was all that concerned with her pleasure, but a well-serviced Tanya came back for more. And more. And more.

  She was insatiable.

  She climbed off his lap. Will removed the condom and tied it off. He had more where that came from, which was good because Tanya’s face was already heading for his lap. Her breath warmed his head, and his cock tingled. It already knew what her hot mouth and tongue could do. She had talent. He had no doubt she’d blown her way into a proposal from her old man.

  “Oh, baby.”

  Something rattled outside. Running footsteps crunched on gravel. Tanya’s head shot up. “What was that?”

  An engine started up and faded away.

  “Omigod. Someone saw us.” Eyes wide, Tanya crawled off his lap and crouched on the floor of the truck. She grabbed her sweater, holding it against her glorious tits. With the rest of her stark naked, the sight was making Will’s cock throb.

  “Probably just kids. Maybe we took their spot.”

  Tanya drew her lower lip between her teeth. Will pictured his cock there instead.

  “Well, they’re gone now.” He grabbed her around the waist and hauled her back onto the seat. Tanya liked it risky and rough. But she also liked the shiny stuff her old husband bought her. She wasn’t going to take the chance that he’d find out about their little arrangement. “Relax. It’s dark. No one watching could possibly know it’s you.”

  “But someone was watching.” Excitement teased her voice.

  “Does that make you hot?” He wrapped his hand in her long blond hair.

  She lowered her head to his lap and breathed on his cock. “Oh yeah.”

  Will’s hips surged. He was dying to have her again.

  Mike pulled into his garage and parked. Exhaustion dragged at his limbs as he walked past the disemboweled carcass of the 1970 Mustang convertible that had been waiting for his attention since early summer. He pushed open the door leading into the house. The sound of a woman moaning roughed the hairs on the back of his neck. He pulled his gun from his hip and pressed his shoulder against the doorjamb. What the hell? What kind of intruder turned on the lights?

  “For fuck’s sake. Put the gun away.”

  “Sean?” Mike walked through into the living room. Sean lounged in the recliner in front of the TV, which was the source of all the female moaning.

  “Who else would it be? You don’t have anything worth stealing except the big-screen.” Sean sipped from the beer bottle in his hand. “You haven’t updated anything else in this place since your mom died. That was a long time ago, Mike.”

  Mike didn’t argue. Except for converting her room into a home office, the house was pretty much the same. After dumping his keys and phone on the kitchen counter, he went into the bedroom and locked his piece in the gun safe in his nightstand. Other than sleeping, he spent little time here. He ducked into the bathroom to start the shower on the way back to the living room. “What are you complaining about? You only come here to watch your porn flicks.”

  “Well, I can’t very well watch them at home. There are kids there,” Sean said. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Nah. It’s not like I’m ever here.” Mike started unbuttoning his uniform shirt. “You don’t even need to break in. I’ve offered you a key dozens of times.”

  “That’s no fun.” Sean turned the volume down on the TV, stood, and stretched. “Amanda sent you dinner. I’ll stick it in the microwave.”

  “Thanks. I have to grab a quick shower. I smell like an ashtray.” On the way, Mike scanned his house for any sign of Sean’s entry. As usual, Mike saw nothing. Someday he’d figure out how his friend got in and out without leaving any trace. Tonight, he was too tired to care.

  The bathroom was steaming when Mike stripped and climbed under the hot spray. The water pounded on his shoulders as he soaped up. Heat relaxed his muscles. Too much. His eyelids drooped. He’d managed exactly one sip of coffee at the scene before his stomach had let him know in no uncertain terms that wasn’t a smart idea. With a shake of his head, he turned the water to cold and stuck his head under the full force. The shock of the icy spray cleared his head. He shut off the faucet and toweled off. Shivering, he stepped into a pair of sweatpants that looked reasonably clean. He really needed to scrape out an hour to do some laundry. The smell of chicken drew him back to the kitchen, T-shirt in hand. The ceramic tiles were cold under his bare feet.

  Sean was pulling a bowl out of the microwave. “It’s just leftover chicken and dumplings.” He turned as Mike pulled his shirt over his head. “Holy crap.”

  “What?”

  “You look like you’ve lost fifteen pounds.”

  “It’s been a rough couple of weeks.” Actually it’d been more like twenty, but Mike wasn’t going to volunteer that bit of information.

  Sean set the bowl on the counter bar that divided the cooking and dining areas. “Eat.”

  “Yes, Mom.” Mike slid onto a wooden stool and dug in. His stomach protested the first few bites. He paused, chewing slowly, but it settled enough for him to continue at a slower pace.

  Sean leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, watching. He kept his mouth shut until Mike had worked his way through most of the food.

  Mike pushed his plate away. “Tell Amanda thanks.”

  “She’s worried about you.”

  “I appreciate that.” Mike got up, crossed to the fridge, and poured a glass of organic skim milk. He held up a beer and, hoping to distract his friend, waved it at Sean.

  Didn’t work. Sean picked up the TV remote from the counter and turned off his movie. Bad sign. “You can’t keep this up. You need help.”

  “I know. That’s why I asked you to do those background checks.” If porn didn’t sidetrack his happily married yet mildly perverted friend, nothing would. Mike gave up on the diversion. “Do you know David Gunner?”

  “Vaguely. Local contractor. Mostly remodels kitchens and baths.”

  “I’ve seen him around town, but I don’t remember where or when.”

  “He’s homegrown. Why?”

  “He was hanging around Rachel tonight after the fire.” Mike drank some milk. Was he suspicious of David Gunner for valid reasons or because he acted familiar with Rachel? Mike had no business being jealous. She wasn’t his, but damned if that thought didn’t make his chest go hollow.

  “She was there? Any chance the fire was another attack on her?”

  “I don’t think so. She said she just stopped by the township clerk’s office. Didn’t sound like it was a planned trip. Hell, eve
rybody in town was there tonight for the meeting. I may as well use the voter registration rolls for my suspect list.”

  “So it was definitely arson?” Sean asked.

  “The state police arson investigator hasn’t confirmed that yet, but that’s what the fire chief thinks. Found traces of an accelerant. Point of origin was the basement, where the actual fire was contained.”

  “What’s the damage?”

  “Everything in the basement is history. Upstairs fared better. Most of the damage is from smoke and water. Structurally, the building seems intact, but we’ll need an engineer to verify that.”

  “Could’ve been worse. Lucky nobody died, considering how many people were inside.”

  “Definitely.” Mike scrubbed a hand across his face. “The state police will handle the arson investigation, but the fire has to be tied to the Lost Lake project. It can’t be coincidence that an arsonist picked tonight to torch the place. The night Lawrence Harmon is scheduled to make a presentation about the proposed resort.”

  Sean’s expression went grim. “I don’t like this, Mike. This goes beyond vandalism. Setting a building on fire when it’s full of people shows a disturbing lack of conscience or murderous intent.”

  “I know,” Mike agreed. “We’re either dealing with an environmental extremist or a sociopath. I don’t like either of those options.”

  “Or someone who has a vested interest in the Lost Lake project tanking. Got any suspects for the prior vandalism complaints?”

  “Shit, yes.” How could he have forgotten? Mike grabbed his cell phone from the counter. He opened the video app and played the scan of the protesting crowd outside the Lost Lake project. “Damn picture is too small to identity anyone.”

  “Send it to me. I’ll enlarge it on my computer and print stills from the individual frames.”

  Mike considered. Technically, the video was evidence. But the township didn’t have the ability to do what Sean could. The town council was probably going to fire him anyway. Mike tapped the keys on his phone. “Here it comes.”