Mac watched as Maggie came toward him.
Sweet, angelic perfection.
“What?” Her smile lacked coyness, artifice. It lacked sexual invitation. But her eyes gazed at him with such adoration that, God help him, he felt an answering surge of affection deep within him.
“I just wanted to have you near for a moment,” he told her. “To feel your energy close to mine. Do you believe in personal energy?”
Eyes wide, she nodded.
“Yours is filled with love,” he told her. “With all of the love and care you give to the kids you deliver those packages to.”
She nodded again.
“You know they couldn’t get the medication any other way.”
“Just like Jeanine couldn’t.”
“And as long as you don’t ever open the bag, don’t ever see what’s inside, you can always honestly say that you don’t know what’s there.”
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to open the bag so the medication isn’t contaminated.”
“That, too. But…we’re taking risks, doing this.”
“I know.”
“I just want to make certain that you—and the others—are protected.”
“I know. But I’d take the risk, Mac.” Her eyes teared and he longed to pull her onto his lap. And keep her there, secure. “The last month Jeanine was alive…you should have seen her. The sounds she made when the pain got so bad…I still hear them sometimes. Mostly in the middle of the night.”
He needed to be there for her. In the middle of the night.
But he couldn’t be. It wasn’t their journey.
“You hurt for all the sick kids whose parents can’t afford to help them.”
“Yeah. It could be me, too, you know. My mom doesn’t have insurance for us, either.”
“I can feel your hurt, Maggie. And your worry. It makes me want to help you not hurt so much.”
She just stared. And he knew he had to be careful. So very careful. Many great men had fallen because of lust. And maybe even because of love. In the wrong time and the wrong place.
And sometimes, men were made great by the love of an angel.
“Would you like that? If I helped you not hurt so much?”
“Yes.” Her voice was raspy now. As if her throat was as dry as she made his.
Another inch and his arm would brush her breast. That’s all he needed. Just a hint of intimacy between them. To comfort him in the dark of night. And in another woman’s arms.
Because he wasn’t going to take from his angel. He wasn’t going to hurt her. Or anyone else. He was a good man. Born to help others.
He moved the inch. Heard her intake of breath. She’d felt him.
And hadn’t retreated.
The harvest of the prototype took two days to bring in because Kyle picked it by hand.
He worked alone, by choice, and at one point it occurred to him that in his own way he was as driven as Sam. Not wanting to go there, he turned his thoughts to the shipping arrangements he’d made to see his product safely to his ethanol-producing partner.
When the crop was processed, he would know, finally, if he really was capable of growing a corn that could produce twice the starch per kernel. He’d been told to expect a report within a month of shipping.
After all the years of planning and attempts at implementation, one more month should seem like no time at all. Instead, it loomed longer than the years that had preceded it.
He was losing Sam again. Who’d have thought it could possibly hurt more the second time around?
And he lay awake at night planning what he’d do if he was arrested. James and Millie would stay with Grandpa. And surely he could be out on bail almost immediately. Assuming he could use the farm for collateral.
If not, as much as he hated to, he’d ask Bob Branson for help.
He’d have to come up with money to pay David Abrams, too.
And thoughts of money inevitably led to the knowledge that Sam had requested access to his bank records. For all he knew, she already had them.
And depending on how far back she went…
He wrestled with the idea of coming clean. He’d learned his lesson. Keeping secrets from Sam didn’t pay in the long run. But she’d also shown him, unequivocally, that he couldn’t trust her to trust him. If there was a chance that she didn’t have to know the rest—at least while she was investigating him for methamphetamine involvement—he had to take that chance. The warrant allowing her access to the bank records had been open-ended. But Sam was really only interested in the past six months. If that was as far as she looked, he’d be okay…
This was generally where Kyle got out of bed and put an end to all thought with a bottle of whiskey at the kitchen table.
In spite of the lack of restful sleep, he stayed busy the next week. Tuesday he finished cleaning and organizing the storage barn. He worked with Rad every morning. And every afternoon he rode Lillie along the entire perimeter of his property. It took a while. Didn’t matter. The land was his. He wasn’t going to have its health, or his life, put in jeopardy by any drug-dealing jackass.
On Wednesday, he rode toward the site of the fire with Sam on his mind. Maybe he should’ve told her the rest about Sherry Mahon. But what good would it have done? It would only hurt her more. Make her doubt him more.
Kyle could hardly stand to look at himself in the mirror when he thought about the aftermath of his one hour of drunken indiscretion. How could he possibly face the condemnation, the disappointment, he would see in Sam’s expressive blue eyes?
Drawing close to the site, Lillie jerked her head on the reins, and Kyle noticed the doe rummaging through the dirt-covered charred remains. With a light touch of his hand on the bridle, he stopped Lillie and watched. The fire department had cleared the land of any damaging chemicals and covered the ground with new earth. The deer was safe. But would she find anything of benefit to her in the new land?
He heard the car before the doe did. Recognizing Sam’s Mustang, he watched as the deer hopped off across the field, heading for a cove of trees.
Dismounting, Kyle held Lillie and waited while Sam pulled off the road and climbed out.
“Checking up on me?” he asked as she skirted the edge of the field and came up to them.
“How’s my girl?” Sam rubbed Lillie’s nose. And Kyle’s horse nuzzled her back.
“I’ve been driving by as often as I can,” she said, still fondling the mare as she looked up at Kyle. “Someone dumped that waste, Kyle.”
“I know. I’ve been making rounds, as well.”
She was in uniform. And still looked beautiful to him. His horse, his senses, were working against him.
And then she buried her face in the mare’s neck, breathing deeply as though shoring up her strength, and Kyle started to sweat.
Her eyes, when she turned back to him, were blazing.
“Mind telling me why you paid Sherry Mahon ten thousand dollars last year, Kyle?”
She’d gone back far enough. There’d always been that chance.
“Who’s asking? The cop or the friend?”
“How about the woman you’ve been sleeping with for the past thirteen years?”
“I’m not sure who that is.”
“Ditto. You’re scum, Kyle. Lying scum. I…can’t find words to tell you what I think of you right now.”
Samantha’s wrath wasn’t new to him. Her passion in bed was a hundred percent more acute than its shadow side.
“Tell me, Kyle. Tell me why you risked everything—your farm, Grandpa, your last chance with the experimental crop…us. Why would you throw all of that away by giving that woman every dime you had left in savings?”
“Why don’t you tell me?” She wasn’t going to hear anything he had to say. Not right now. Not when she was glaring at him and shaking and trying not to cry.
“I’ll tell you why,” she said. “I think she’s blackmailing you. That’s what I think.”
She’d surprise
d him. He’d expected her to think he’d been supporting the woman on the side. Like a mistress.
“Blackmailing me? For what?”
“I’m not sure about that.” She looked down and her voice lowered a couple of decibels. “I just found out about this an hour ago. I haven’t had time to work through all the facts. It’s probably got to do with the drugs somehow. Like she found out you were involved with the meth she’s dealing and is extorting your silence.”
Kyle had lain awake in bed so many nights lately, imagining his life unraveling. He’d never envisioned anything like this…this calm, almost slow-motion spiral. He stood, as though outside himself, watching the whole thing. He was no longer just imagining.
“Is that what you really believe?” His voice sounded a lot calmer than he felt.
The seconds that Sam stared up at him were interminable. “I don’t know what to believe. I can’t believe my Kyle would ever have anything to do with drug production, distribution or use. But then, my Kyle wouldn’t have screwed another woman the day after we broke up, either. Or gotten back together with me the next day without owning up to the mistake.”
“Dammit, give me a break, Sam.” The words were wrung out of Kyle. “I was as devastated as you were when you gave me your ring back that Friday night. It was like permanent darkness descended. All good feeling was gone out of my life. I made a horrible mistake. I was too drunk. Had a disgusting lack of judgment. I get that. But if I’d told you about it that Sunday when you came over asking for your ring back, would you have taken it? Would you have gotten back together with me?”
She didn’t blink. Didn’t lower her gaze as she considered his question. “No.”
If he’d told her the truth, he’d have lost her. By not telling her the truth, he’d lost a part of himself.
And that was the choice he’d made.
“Why did you give her what was left of your life’s savings, Kyle?”
It wasn’t any of her business. Not now. His shame was his own. He didn’t have to share it with her.
And if he didn’t, the cop standing there with tears in her eyes as she gazed up at him would run with her theory that he was being blackmailed by one of his distributors.
“She called me. About six weeks after that night. Told me she was pregnant.”
Sam’s shoulders dropped and her expression went dead.
“She wanted money, support for her and the kid. She suggested that we get married.”
He gave Sam a chance to say something. She didn’t.
“I asked her how sure she was that the baby was mine. After I told her I was going to ask around at the bar where I’d met her, she admitted that she’d been with someone else, but swore they’d used protection.”
Another pause met with eerie silence.
“I told her that I wanted a paternity test. And that if the test showed I was the baby’s father, I’d help pay for the birth and would support the child, help raise it, but that I couldn’t marry her.”
“So the ten thousand was only last year’s installment on child support? You’ve been paying her all these years?”
“No. There is no child, Sam.”
Hands in his pockets, he swallowed bile. “I called her back a week later to see how she was doing. She’d had the child aborted.”
“Was it yours?”
“Probably. But there was no way of knowing for sure. Last year, after all these years, I got a call from her. Said she was having female complications due to the abortion and needed surgery. She didn’t have insurance so I gave her everything I had left to pay for it.”
“Did you go see her afterward?”
“Hell, no. She’s nothing to me, Sam, other than the biggest mistake of my life.”
“And you haven’t seen her since?”
“No.”
“Sherry Mahon was in jail for most of last year, Kyle. I’ll check on the surgery story, but I’m guessing your ten thousand dollars paid for one hell of a lot of methamphetamine.”
Kissing Lillie goodbye, Sam turned her back and left him standing there.
21
David Abrams finally returned Samantha’s call Thursday morning. She’d had three days to investigate a man she’d known, in passing, for most of her life and, as far as she could tell, he’d never defended a methamphetamine case.
There were no obvious signs of an influx of cash in his life. The new house was nice, but not flashy, and was in the moderate range of what he should be able to afford given his case list and hourly rate. He’d been driving the same car for a couple of years. Hadn’t taken any recent vacations, except to see his parents in Florida.
He worked and volunteered and donated ten percent of his income to various charities. He spent time with his family and was active in a local political party. A trustee at his church, he was also a member of the parent organization at school.
Sam found no scandals, rumors, no professional complaints against him, according to the Ohio bar association website. Not even a speeding or parking ticket marred his record.
The judge, his colleagues and even the police spoke highly of him.
But he’d lied to Sam—a deputy sheriff.
And everyone had secrets.
At this point, after her experience with Kyle, if someone told her David Abrams was a mass murderer, she might believe them.
She’d left her cell number with him a number of times that week and he called while she was in the Mustang, having followed Maggie Winston from her home to the school. Her shift didn’t start until noon so she’d watched Shane arrive, as well, cruised by Malcolm Hardy’s rented home and checked out the park just to make certain Maggie hadn’t backtracked to meet her Mac. Sam had also already been out to the sports complex to see if there were any kids making rendezvous when they should be in school.
“I’m following up on a previous conversation we had,” she told the lawyer as she switched lanes, made a U-turn and headed out toward Mechanic Street and the vacant house a couple of blocks from Abrams’s new place. She’d look for any changes at the empty residence, any sign of temporary occupancy, and then head out to Kyle’s part of the county.
“Is this for a case?”
“Not really.” She sipped from her favorite of the many thermal coffee mugs she owned. “This isn’t an official call, David. I’m just checking up on something for a friend and thought maybe you could help.”
“Sure, if I can.”
“Do you remember when we talked a couple of weeks ago?”
“Of course. You were asking about a girl. A teenager. I can’t remember her name, but I remember that she wasn’t old enough to drive.”
Right. Because he and Susan had agreed to hire only babysitters with a license.
“That’s the one,” Sam said, making a turn and then another. Chandler was quiet that morning. Peaceful. “You told me you weren’t at home the morning she stopped by your house.”
“I didn’t tell you that.”
She pulled over to the side of the road. “You didn’t?” Of course he had. He’d said he’d never seen or heard of Maggie Winston. And that Susan had told him about meeting the potential babysitter.
“No, what I said was I didn’t see the girl. Susan answered the door because I was upstairs with Devon, who was throwing up. As I recall, you didn’t even ask if I was home. You only asked if I knew the girl.”
He was right about that.
“Are you at home now?”
It was early enough, but she knew the attorney had a habit of being in his office at the crack of dawn.
“No, I’m on my way to the office.”
“Oh, sorry, do you mind holding on for a second?”
“Sure, no problem.”
Clicking her cell phone to put the call on hold, Sam dialed David’s home phone from her contact list. If his story checked out, she could just have given everyone around her reason to believe their concern about her being obsessed was credible.
David and Chuck were br
others-in-law and played darts with Kyle and Pierce. There was no chance that the morning call would go unreported.
Susan Abrams answered on the third ring.
After asking how the other woman was doing—and making an inane joke about Chuck, Susan’s brother—Sam asked if Susan knew Maggie Winston.
“Yes, she’s Glenna’s friend.”
“Your babysitter?”
“Yes. Why? Is something wrong? Glenna’s not hurt, is she?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Sam said. “A friend of mine was asking about Maggie and I’d heard she’d been at your house. Were you home alone when the girls came by?”
“No, the kids were here. And David was, too, as I recall. He was upstairs. I remember because Devon was sick and David had had to reschedule a couple of court hearings to stay home and help me with him. I couldn’t take the time to talk to the girl after she’d come all the way over to meet me.”
Confirming David’s rescheduled court cases would be easy.
Thanking Susan, and apologizing for interrupting her morning, she returned to David.
“I have to be honest with you, David. I just called Susan to check up on what you told me about Maggie Winston. I’ve been watching out for the girl, not as a cop, but as a favor for a friend, and I got a little crazy there when Kyle told me you’d been home the day that Maggie visited. I thought you’d lied to me and—”
“Why on earth would I do that?”
She couldn’t be that honest. “I had no idea. I was hoping you were going to tell me.”
“Is she in some kind of trouble?”
“Not trouble. She’s a great kid. But she might be in danger.”
“What kind of danger?”
“I’m not sure. But there’ve been some strange things happening and her mother is worried about the possibility that she’s falling under the spell of a pedophile.”
“A pedophile? Here in Chandler?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Truthfully, I have no proof of anything. It’s just some things the girl has said.”
“What kind of things?”
He cared. And she owed him after practically accusing him of being involved with Maggie himself.
The Second Lie Page 19