House of Secrets

by Ramona Richards

  Stop dwelling on foolishness! Get dressed! June stood and pulled on the clothes that her sister April had brought last night. She slipped into the jeans and red blouse, then reached for the makeup bag.

  June grinned as she unzipped the bag and pulled out the hairbrush, toothbrush and foundation. “Bless you, sweetie. You knew.”

  Yep, April knew that June would never want to leave the hospital without putting on the face of the preacher’s wife. In the past twenty-four hours she’d found David dead, been shot at and tumbled down a ravine, but some things did not change.

  No matter how nice it felt to hold Ray’s hand, she was still JR’s wife.

  Ray Taylor stood outside June’s hospital room with his thoughts swirling in a maelstrom, ranging from irritation at June’s delay to rage at yesterday’s events. The idea that someone in Bell County would have such dire secrets that he’d be willing to hire an assassin to protect them was both outrageous and ludicrous. And how was it possible that he, as sheriff, would be so unaware of such hidden dangers?

  Bell County remained small, in size, population and, for the most part, way of life. People lived here precisely because they wanted a simpler, quieter existence. Sure Bell County had its share of crime, but it remained manageable. Plus, his officers blanketed the county, living in the towns they patrolled. He had informants in every drug ring and gambling operation in the area. Twice he’d arrested human traffickers at the truck stop out at the interstate, and the owners there knew better than to let girls try to—

  What is taking her so long?

  Ray glanced at the door to June’s room again. The nurse had gone in with the discharge papers a few moments ago, and Ray realized that he’d grown increasingly impatient with the delay in starting both his day and his investigation.

  Since when are you impatient about anything?

  Since this murder expanded beyond Bell County.

  Ray’s thoughts spun to a standstill. He’d discussed with Daniel the likelihood that David’s murder wasn’t random, and they had focused on it being local because of the evidence. Obviously, the killers had known David as well as the local area.

  But Ray had awakened this morning with a nagging mental itch at the back of his mind, and it had grown stronger throughout the past couple of hours. A hunch, and over the years in law enforcement, Ray had learned to trust his hunches. He pulled out his cell phone.

  “Have you pulled David’s financial records yet?” he asked.

  “Gage is working on that,” Daniel replied.

  “In addition to checking for suspicious activity, make sure you check for any unusual banking locations.”

  “You mean like out-of-town ATMs?”

  “Anything that raises an eyebrow. Strange ATMs, foreign banks.”

  Daniel got the hint. “You mean offshore.”

  “Anything.”

  “You think he was being bribed? Or was doing the bribing?”

  “Don’t want to assume anything yet. And remember, he’s a respected pastor. Tread carefully.”

  “Gotcha. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “You been to sleep yet?”

  Daniel hesitated. “Gage and I decided to check a few more things. The parsonage was quiet last night, but we’re still wired.”

  “Unwire and go to bed. It’ll take awhile for the bank records to be pulled. I need you both alert if this picks up speed suddenly.”

  “Will do.”

  Ray closed his phone and pocketed it again, just as the nurse emerged from June’s room. “You can go in now.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ray pushed open the door and stopped. Yesterday he’d seen June at her worst—distraught, covered in blood, bruised and unconscious. The last time he’d seen her in this room, a bandage covered the left side of her face and an IV had tethered her to the bed. An injured woman, the victim of violence.

  The June in front of him now was no victim. Even wearing the simple outfit of jeans and a red shirt, June had transformed back into the strong woman he’d been admiring for quite some time. Hair brushed, makeup pristine, the white gauze replaced with two tiny butterfly bandages, she was placing her makeup kit and brush back into the bag April had brought for her. She smiled at him, and for a moment Ray’s chest tightened.

  Yesterday, he’d desperately wanted to protect her. Today, he was reminded of how magnificent June truly was.

  “I see you’ve bounced back from the edge.”

  June’s smile widened. “Amazing what a little sleep and a lot of makeup will do.” She lifted the bag. “April could have picked me up.”

  Ray shook his head. “I’m afraid you’re going to remain with me until this is settled.”

  June grew still and her smile faded. “You’re not serious.”

  “Quite serious. That shooter meant to kill you, not me. I’m convinced they believe you saw them, or you know something. Either way, you are apparently a liability. You’re in their way.”

  June’s gaze grew distant, as if the words had triggered a painful memory.

  “June?”

  Before she could answer, Ray’s cell phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket. “Taylor.”

  Daniel’s voice on the other end was tight. “Ray, you better get over to the parsonage now.”

  “What’s happened?”

  Daniel cleared his throat again, and Ray knew it had to be bad if his chief deputy was fighting to hold it together. “In yesterday’s turmoil, we left June’s car at the parsonage. Gage went out there a few minutes ago, planning to drop it back at June’s house on his way home. He started it, then left it running to warm up, like June said. Brent called him back into the parsonage to ask him something. Good thing.”

  A sudden chill clenched Ray’s spine. “What happened?”

  “It blew up.”

  SIX

  “JR gave me that car.” June stared at the smoldering hunks of metal and leather that had once been a 1968 emerald-green Corvette convertible, her eyes glazed, her body numb. “Our second anniversary. He knew I liked the green-and-tan combination, the Roadster. I loved that car. But it was a mess. JR tinkered with it almost every Saturday the first year we had it, just to keep it running.” June’s monotone monologue trailed off. The true impact of the car’s destruction began seeping into her entire body, chilling her. She shivered and crossed her arms.

  “I’m sorry.” Ray’s voice, low and rumbling close behind her, held sincere regret.

  “This is why you didn’t want me out of your sight.”

  “Yes.”

  “That was meant for me.”

  “No doubt.”

  She glanced from the car to Ray’s deputy. Jeff Gage looked a tad shaken, but he moved around the crime scene smoothly, helping the fire chief examine evidence. “But Jeff is okay.”

  “Thank God.”

  June hugged herself a bit tighter, fighting the surge of swirling emotions that boiled within her. She wanted to scream at everything that had happened over the past twenty-four hours. But that would do no good. It was one of the things JR had impressed on her. I can’t control the way I feel, but I can control the way I act. June took a deep breath and looked at the Corvette’s remains again.

  “Y’know, JR actually hated that car.”

  “He told me once.” Ray shifted his weight. “He didn’t think you knew.”

  June smiled wryly. “JR tried hard to keep it a secret. But a wife knows her husband.” She paused a moment. “I only wish…”

  “What?”

  She motioned toward the ruin. “I only wish I hadn’t left my purse in the trunk yesterday.”

  Ray made an odd coughing noise, and she twisted to look at him, just in time to see him swallow a grin and force a solemn look back on his face.

  She smacked his arm. “Hey, it’s not funny. My cell phone was in there. And my cards and license. You going to drive me around until I get them replaced?”

  He tilted his head and smiled at her. “That was pretty much my
plan anyway.”

  “Sheriff?”

  They both turned toward a young man, swathed in firefighting gear, who held out a small, burnt box that looked like a cross between a 9-volt battery and an alarm clock.

  “What’s that?” Ray asked.

  “It used to be a timed detonator switch.” Michael Dearborn, formerly a demolitions expert for the army, was the only member of the White Hills Fire Department with any experience in explosives. He turned the device over a couple of times, then held it gingerly in one palm. “Gage told me he’d been in the house a few minutes before the car went up. Not sure why they set it for a delay like that.”

  Ray crossed his arms. “Because that car had to warm up before it would go into gear.”

  Michael’s eyes narrowed. “Say again?”

  June squeezed her eyes shut. “I really don’t want to hear this,” she said aloud, her voice a bare whisper.

  Ray placed a hand on her shoulder, its weight a warm comfort that startled June somewhat. “June’s car is—”

  “Was. As in used to be. Not anymore.”

  The hand on her shoulder tightened a bit as he went on. “Was unusual. It needed to warm up about ten minutes before the transmission could be shifted. June’s habit was to start the car, then go back into the house. But my guess is they didn’t know that. Whoever set this wanted the car well away from the parsonage before it blew, so the explosion wouldn’t take out the house with the Corvette.” Ray motioned to the scorched walls and two shattered windows. “Whatever they need is still in that house.”

  Michael let out a long, weary breath and closed his hand around the device. “We just happened to be close when the call came in. Otherwise, the house would have been gone.”

  June, who had barely glanced at the damage to the parsonage, now ached as much for her former home as for her car. Her throat tightened, as if something crucial were slipping away from her, slowly but inevitably.

  “…attempted homicide.” Ray finished a sentence June had not heard.

  Michael nodded. “We don’t know what the explosive was yet, but this is definitely not an accident.”

  “Probably something thrown together in a hurry, not as well planned as the murder. I doubt they had June in mind when they killed David. We had cars front and back last night to cover the entrances, but nothing here at the side of the house.”

  “I’ll see what additional evidence we can find when it cools off some.”

  June approached the ruins of the car slowly, her thoughts blurred and scattered. This was JR’s beautiful gift to her, gone forever. The top, leather seats and tires had burned away. The frame sat flat on the ground, only the barest components of what had once been an amazing vehicle remaining, steaming from the heat and water. The blast shattered the motor, and debris spread over the driveway, patio and yard. Two pieces had been embedded in the side of the house.

  Yet she didn’t feel the loss as intensely as she’d expected to when Ray first broke the news to her at the hospital. She’d felt dizzy with shock at first, but now she just felt—what?

  June glanced at where the trunk had been. The concern that buzzed in her brain still focused on her purse, not the car itself. And the house. Her eyes narrowed as the smoke from the rubble stung her eyes. But what was this other feeling?

  Relief?

  The firefighters buzzed around her, gathering their gear and preparing to leave. At the edge of the yard, the crowd had gathered again, whispering. June ignored them. She didn’t care what they had to say.

  She had lost the last of JR, the last remaining piece of his memory, which she had clung to with all her might. She wanted to hurt for him, for this precious reminder of him. Yet the emotion that captured her was not grief. She moved closer, searching her mind and heart for a sense of anger, of loss. But the image that flashed through her brain was of Ray.

  Ray, his injuries covered with tape and gauze.

  He saved my life.

  The thought made June swallow hard. In pushing her out of the cruiser and making sure she was out of the line of fire, in sending the sniper scurrying for cover, Ray Taylor had saved her life.

  Ray, who was injured because of her.

  Dear Lord, what have I done?

  Focused on her thoughts, June didn’t see the lump of charred metal in front of her until she tripped, and one foot came down on the debris, slipping wildly. She stumbled hard, crying out, her arms lashing out in front of her to brace her fall.

  An arm locked around her waist like a vise, and she swung to her right, firmly braced against Ray. His other hand caught her left arm, settling her on her feet again. His concerned expression reflected his gentle words. “Careful. You’re stepping on my evidence.”

  Ray had been right behind her the entire time, not letting her stray too far away. He had not left her. “Thank you. I’ll watch where I’m going.”

  He released her and stepped back. “Why don’t you wait in the house? I’ll be in shortly.”

  “Good idea.” June turned and headed for the back door. She climbed the steps slowly, avoiding the now brown, shoe-shaped stains on the porch. The screen door creaked as she opened it, a noise she had not noticed yesterday. She paused, peering at the hinges.

  As she stood there, staring at the door frame, other images of recent visits to the house flashed through June’s mind, winking like fireflies on a hot, dark night. Peeling wallpaper in a bathroom. Darkened light bulbs. A water stain on a ceiling. Nothing major, just small signs of a home being ignored.

  What else did you neglect, David?

  June felt a twinge of guilt for thinking ill of the dead, and she shuddered as she looked around the kitchen, its contents still in disarray and the sticky pool of blood remaining as a stark reminder of yesterday’s violence. A faint smell of decay lingered in the air, and a couple of flies buzzed, disturbed by June’s appearance in the room.

  Her gaze searched the kitchen, looking for other signs that David’s life had been out of order. A Victorian like this one required a lot of maintenance, and over the past few months, David had not taken care of the parsonage, nor asked the church’s board for help.

  Since, technically, the house belonged to the church, the board could have stepped in to protect and maintain the property, but the entire congregation at White Hills Gospel Immanuel had respected David Gallagher’s privacy. He had not asked for help, so none had been offered. Now shingles dropped to the ground during the spring rains, and the gutters overflowed. The house had not been painted, and the lattice work on the porch bowed under the weight of overgrown vines.

  Looking around the kitchen, June could spot a dozen small things that could have been taken care of easily. A drippy faucet. A cracked tile. A dead plant. June’s brows came together. “What were you doing with your time, David?”

  “Say again?”

  June swung around. Ray stood on the porch, watching her through the screen door.

  “Why were you asking about his time?”

  June opened her arms wide to indicate the kitchen and beyond. “When JR and I lived here, this house was pristine. David always said he admired that. When he moved in, he promised me he’d honor the work JR and I had done on the house.”

  “And?”

  “And for the first two years or so, he did a decent job with the small things. Then about eight months ago, everything started falling apart.”

  “You’re sure of the time frame?”

  June stood straighter. “Believe me. I did not want to leave this house. I loved it here. I’ve watched every chip of paint, every stray weed, every loose nail since I left it.”

  Ray opened the screen door and stepped inside.

  Pointing at the door, June said, “See? He didn’t even bother to oil the hinges. I’ve been in and out of this house for dinners and meetings, and every time I’ve seen something else that needs repair. He once told me the third-floor toilet didn’t work anymore, but since he didn’t use it, he didn’t bother fixing it.” />
  “So you’re upset about the house?”

  “I’m upset because I nagged him about the house without realizing it meant something other than him being neglectful. That it meant David had other fish to fry.”

  “So you think that whatever this is all about, it dates back eight months or so.”

  She nodded. “At least.” She inhaled deeply. “Look, a pastor’s time is tight. People think they just go on visits and write sermons, but there’s a lot more to being a good senior pastor. There’s a great deal of administrative work to do. That’s why JR went off for two weeks every year to plan his sermons, and why he asked the church to bring David on as the associate.”

  Ray remained still. “But David never brought on anyone to help.”

  “Just the secretaries. And they’re part-time. That’s not enough for a church this size. He should have requested the board put together a search committee for a new associate within a few months of taking over. But he didn’t.”

  “Couldn’t that explain the house neglect? Too much work?”

  “It could, but why didn’t he bring on help, if he was struggling with the house and the church? And why did he do fine with the house for more than two years, then let everything go at once? It would have been incredibly easy for him to just ask the board to help find an associate or even a handyman. Instead, he kept to himself. What if he didn’t bring on help because he was hiding something?”

  Ray stepped closer to her. “What do you think he was hiding?”

  “I thought figuring out stuff like that was your job.”

  Ray’s fleeting smile disappeared quickly. “So it is. I usually start with evidence.”

  “David’s study.”

  “You lead the way.”

  June headed out of the kitchen, Ray following, eyes alert. Part of him felt he should get her out of here so she could rest, but he knew she would have none of it. June paused only briefly as they passed through a butler’s pantry, waving at one of the walls. “We found two hidden compartments in the pantry, but JR took down the paneling that hid them and turned them into a computer center. We had a laptop stationed there that kept track of all the church and parsonage events, as well as the general needs of the house. Kitty Parker, JR’s assistant, did a lot of the updates.”