After Dark

by Beverly Barton

  “She was helping me perpetuate the lie that Kent was Will’s father. She and I both did what we thought was best for Will. And I’m sure Lillie Mae wasn’t certain that you would come to our rescue. After all, you’d never exactly been the reliable type, had you?”

  “Hmph. Maybe y’all thought it preferable for Will to be Kent’s son rather than mine. After all, Kent was the heir to the Graham fortune and his place in local society was far superior to mine. Y’all probably thought that I didn’t have anything to offer a child. Absolutely nothing. No money. No prestigious name. No family lineage.”

  Lane glowered at Johnny Mack, her expression one of angry disbelief. “Do you honestly believe that’s the reason Lillie Mae didn’t contact you?”

  “I don’t know, but it makes sense.” It made too much sense. And the truth hurt like hell. “Kent Graham was your kind, wasn’t he? You were both Alabama blue bloods with pedigrees back to Adam. Maybe you thought Will deserved to be a part of all that—to truly belong to the Graham family.”

  Lane rushed him, her eyes wild with pain and rage. Skidding to a halt a foot in front of him, she jabbed her index finger on his chest. “I thought Will deserved a chance to live, instead of being aborted by the girl you’d gotten pregnant. If I’d known where you were and if for one minute I’d thought you would’ve wanted Will and me, I’d have paid off Sharon and come running to you with your baby. You were the one I loved.” She stabbed his chest with her finger. “You were the one I wanted. Not Kent. But you were too blind, too stupid, to realize that I would have given up everything to have been with you.”

  “Lane….” When he reached for her, she sidestepped him, the look in her eyes daring him to touch her.

  Dear God, she was right. He had been too blind to see the truth. He had thought her feelings ran no deeper than a teenage crush on the town bad boy. How wrong he had been! A girl with a silly crush didn’t throw away her own life in order to save a man’s baby. But a woman who truly loved a man might. If that woman was Lane Noble.

  But it was apparent that the love she had once felt for him had died long ago. He saw no evidence of it now. If Lane felt anything for him, it was contempt.

  “I got over my girlish infatuation years ago, so don’t think that…” Turning her back on him, Lane took a deep breath. “Your presence here isn’t helping me, and it certainly isn’t helping Will. Why don’t you just go back to Texas and leave us alone?”

  “I can’t do that.”

  Johnny Mack came up behind her, a hairbreadth between his chest and her back. He ached to reach out and place his arms around her, to draw her close within his embrace. He felt the tension in her body as she stood there rigid as a statue. He suspected that she was holding her breath, waiting to see if he would touch her. He wanted to. God, how he wanted to.

  “You told me yourself that you might need a good lawyer,” he said. “If the evidence against you warrants a grand jury hearing, then it’s possible you’ll be arrested for Kent’s murder.”

  “I can hire my own lawyer.”

  “I’ve already hired one for you.”

  She spun around and glared at him. “You’ve already contacted Quinn Cortez?”

  “Last night. One phone call from me and he’ll fly to Noble’s Crossing at a minute’s notice.”

  “Then, you two really must be good friends if he’s willing to stay on hold until we see what the district attorney is going to do.”

  “Quinn has been my best friend for over fourteen years. When we were both going through Judge Brown’s retraining program, we were a couple of young hoodlums. No one who knew Quinn back then would have thought that one day he’d become a renowned trial lawyer.”

  “He has quite a reputation. And I’m sure his fees are astronomical. I take it that you’re paying his retainer.”

  “I know your financial situation, Lane, or least enough that I realize all your money is tied up in the Herald and that Edith owns fifty-one percent of the newspaper.” He glanced around the room. “It must take a small fortune to keep up this place.”

  “If you feel that hiring Quinn Cortez as my lawyer repays me for saving your life, then consider me repaid. You can go back to Texas with a clear conscience. If I am arrested—”

  “Quinn doesn’t lose cases. Even if you killed Kent, he can get you off.”

  “Then, I don’t have anything to worry about, do I?”

  Jackie removed Mary Martha’s lunch tray from the table and set it outside the bedroom door. The housekeeper would pick it up later, and when evening came, she would deliver the next meal. Sometime during the afternoon, Jackie would have to take Mary Martha down into the garden for her daily hour in the sun. Miss Edith was convinced that a daily outing was essential to her daughter’s recovery.

  Glancing down at the sleeping, childlike woman curled into a fetal position, Jackie shook her head. What a shame that a woman with everything going for her—money, social position and beauty—would turn out to be a mental case. Such a waste.

  Why couldn’t I have been born with a silver spoon in my mouth? Jackie wondered.

  She had been raised on the other side of the Chickasaw River, a block away from Arlene’s family and three blocks away from Myer’s Trailer Park. All her life she had wanted what the folks in Rich Man’s Land had. For as long as she could remember, she had envied girls like Mary Martha Graham and Lane Noble.

  The only thing that had separated them—other than the river—had been money. Lots of money.

  Grinning like the proverbial Cheshire Cat, Jackie shoved open the bathroom door, sat on the closed commode lid and pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of her uniform. After lighting up, she took a deep draw and closed her eyes. Savoring the smoke. And daydreaming about her good fortune. She had known that taking this job as Mary Martha’s nurse would pay off for her, one way or another. She had figured ingratiating herself to the Queen Bee of Noble’s Crossing was a smart move.

  Ever since she’d found out that James Ware was bonking Arlene, she had considered blackmailing the mayor. But Arlene was her friend. Besides, James Ware didn’t have a dime of his own money. Miss Edith held the purse strings, and from what she had heard, she was downright stingy when it came to doling out cash to her hubby.

  She had hoped something would pan out, that somehow living here on Magnolia Avenue, even as one of the hired hands, would open some doors for her. But she had never dreamed what a goldmine she would discover or just how profitable learning certain damning information would be. She’d get paid a bundle to keep quiet. Enough so that she would never have to work again. If she were to tell what she knew, heads would roll. Important heads.

  She wouldn’t act too soon. This situation needed some consideration. When would be the best time to spring the trap? And just how much was the information really worth? All she had to do was mention going to the DA and she would get whatever she wanted. Think, Jackie, think. How much? A million? Two million? More? Mustn’t be greedy. Two million should do nicely.

  “I should have known he wouldn’t come back to Noble’s Crossing unless he had enough power to hurt us.” Edith tapped her manicured nails against her cheek in an unconscious gesture. “So he’s rich now. A multimillionaire.”

  “From what I can find out, he’s one of the most powerful men in Texas,” Buddy Lawler said. “Seems Johnny Mack’s a genius at wheeling and dealing.”

  “Just like his father and grandfather before him.” A tentative smile curved Edith’s red lips. “Blood will tell.”

  The smile vanished as memories of her mother flashed through her mind. Her weak, fragile, little mother, who had committed suicide when Edith was ten. Thank God, she hadn’t been her mother’s daughter in any way. She was made of stronger stuff. But unfortunately, she had passed on her mother’s weak genes to Mary Martha. Yes, blood will tell.

  “If Johnny Mack is here to help Lane, then he has the money to do it,” Buddy said. “And if he wants Will—”

  �
��He may be top dog in Houston, but around here, I’m in charge. I’m the one who pulls the strings and makes the puppets dance to my tune.”

  “Meaning?” Buddy lifted his eyebrows as his gaze settled inquisitively on Edith.

  “Meaning that with Johnny Mack now rich and powerful, the playing field is almost equal. And fighting an equal is so much more fun, especially when you win.”

  “And just what will you win?” Buddy asked.

  “What do you think I’m fighting for? The safety of my family, that’s what. Johnny Mack Cahill has been, since the day he was born, a threat to me and my children.”

  “Are you sure protecting your family is the only thing you hope to accomplish?”

  “What are you implying?”

  “I know you, Miss Edith.” Buddy cleared his throat. “You’re the type of woman who likes revenge. Why else would you have had an affair with Johnny Mack if you hadn’t done it to get revenge against Mr. John? And why now would you be so insistent that Lane is guilty of murdering Kent, unless it was to take revenge against her for lying to Kent and to you about Will’s paternity?”

  “Why you….” How dare he speak to her in such a manner! Buddy Lawler was an underling. A loyal, obedient underling. So why, now, was he acting so boldly, questioning her authority? “What do you think gives you the right to say such a thing to me? You forget your place. You forget to whom you’re speaking.”

  “No, ma’am, I know who you are and I didn’t mean any disrespect.” Buddy lowered his head in a subservient manner. Embarrassment stained his cheeks. “But you know why I’m involved, why I’ve always been involved.” He lifted his gaze just a fraction, enough to make eye contact with Edith. “Fifteen years ago I followed Kent’s orders to get rid of Johnny Mack, but you know why I did it. And I’m knee-deep into things now for the same reason. All I’m asking is for you to assure me that no matter what happens, your first priority is taking care of Mary Martha.”

  “Yes, of course that’s my first priority.” Edith laid her hand on Buddy’s arm and patted him in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. After all, Buddy was the last person she wanted to offend. She needed him. Mary Martha needed him. “But there’s no law against my getting a little sweet revenge while I’m keeping my daughter safe.”

  “No, I don’t suppose so,” Buddy agreed, somewhat reluctantly. “But if I see that you’re putting her at risk in any way, I’ll remind you.”

  Damn him! He was much too sure of himself. “There will be no need to remind me. And you hear this, Buddy Lawler, if I didn’t know that everything you’ve said to me came out of your devotion to Mary Martha, I’d make you very sorry that you ever took that corrective tone with me.” Edith drew back her hand and slapped Buddy’s face. “Do you understand?”

  His face crimson, except where the white imprint of Edith’s hand marked his cheek, Buddy clenched his jaw and spat out a brusque, “Yes, ma’am.”

  Johnny Mack parked his rental car on the side of the road and walked through the open black wrought-iron gates that separated the driveway of the Graham mansion from Magnolia Avenue. Only twice before today had he set foot on the Graham estate. The first time had been when he had screwed Edith Graham in the summer house. And the other time had been the night he had brought a slightly tipsy and very distraught Mary Martha home when he’d found her wandering along the road near the country club. She had probably been the prettiest girl in Noble’s Crossing—delicate and fragile like a porcelain doll. Any man would have wanted her. Most probably had. But he wouldn’t have—couldn’t have—had sex with her. Even then, he hadn’t been an amoral man. His feelings for Mary Martha hadn’t been sexual, not even when she had thrown her arms around him and tried to kiss him. What he’d felt for her had been pity and concern.

  She had begged him to make love to her, but he had declined her offer as gently as he’d known how. That was when she had broken down and cried. And told him she was pregnant. He had held her, comforted her and had listened to a sordid tale that had turned his stomach. Part of him had believed her, and yet another part of him had refused to accept the truth of her scandalous story. Everybody in town knew that John and Edith Graham’s only daughter was touched in the head.

  Johnny Mack hesitated when he reached the front portico. He wouldn’t be any more welcome here now than he would have been fifteen years ago. Here in his father’s ancestral home.

  But it was time that he and Miss Edith met again, face-to-face. Time for him to prove to her that he was a man to be reckoned with. Time for him to warn her—in person—that he was back in town. He had returned to the scene of the crime—to the town where he had almost been murdered—because of Lane and Will. Now he was staying in order to protect them from injustice. And the fact that there wasn’t a damn thing Miss Edith could do to force him out of Noble’s Crossing gave him great satisfaction.

  Without another moment’s hesitation, Johnny Mack rang the doorbell. The thunder of his own heartbeat roared in his ears.

  Simultaneously as the doorbell rang, Edith caressed Buddy’s stinging cheek, and Jackie Cummings led a serene Mary Martha into the room.

  Buddy jerked away from Edith and rushed to Mary Martha’s side. “You look mighty pretty today, honey. How are you feeling?”

  Such devotion. Such mindless devotion. Poor Buddy. He had never loved anyone except Mary Martha, and her daughter wasn’t capable of appreciating all that young, tempting virility. At thirty-eight, Buddy was in his prime. Not a big man, but ruggedly built, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He looked quite appealing in his police uniform. And as much as she had tried to deny it, Edith found him attractive. Whenever he gazed at her with those intense blue eyes, she couldn’t help wondering how he would react if she made the first move.

  “Miss Mary Martha ate a good lunch today,” Jackie said. “And when she woke from her nap, she was all ready for a little walk in the garden, weren’t you, dear?” Jackie, whose arm was laced through her patient’s, smiled warmly.

  “She chills easily, even on warm summer days,” Edith said. “Perhaps you’d better run back upstairs and get Mary Martha a shawl.”

  “Of course.” Jackie helped Mary Martha to the sofa, seated her and continued smiling as she nodded to Edith and hurried out of the living room.

  There was something about Jackie that bothered Edith. Oh, she was all smiles and sweetness and was totally obedient. But there was an odd look in her eyes, as if she were assessing the net worth of everyone and everything in the house.

  Edith sat beside her daughter. “Would you like for me to join you on your walk today?”

  “Where’s Kent?” Mary Martha asked. “I want Kent to take a walk with me.”

  Edith closed her eyes momentarily, then leaned over to clasp her daughter’s hand. She sighed deeply and said, “Kent’s not here, dear. Don’t you remember?”

  Mary Martha shook her head. “Where is he?”

  The housekeeper, Mrs. Russell, knocked on the door, then entered. “I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs. Ware, but there’s a gentleman here to see you.”

  Edith released Mary Martha’s hand, then sat up straight as she glanced at Mrs. Russell. “What gentleman?”

  Before the housekeeper could reply, the dark devil burst into the room. As rude and crude and devastatingly handsome as he’d ever been. A man like no other. Now in his prime at thirty-six. And sexier than any man had a right to be.

  “Your housekeeper is mistaken,” Johnny Mack Cahill said. “We both know that I’m no gentleman.”

  “What are you doing here, Cahill?” Buddy demanded.

  “I’ve come to pay a visit on old friends.”

  Johnny Mack grinned, and for a split second Edith felt that odd tug in the pit of her stomach. What was it about this man’s smile that made women—all women—go weak in the knees?

  “Johnny Mack?” Mary Martha rose from the sofa, her lips curving into a smile as she gazed at their uninvited guest.

  “Hello, Miss Mary Martha.�
�� He removed his tan Stetson and nodded.

  “It’s so good to see you.” Mary Martha took a tentative step in Johnny Mack’s direction. “I haven’t seen you in quite a while.”

  Edith snapped to her feet and reached for her daughter, who shrugged off her mother’s grasping hand and walked straight to Johnny Mack.

  “Kent says I shouldn’t be nice to you.” She gazed up at Johnny Mack as if she were utterly delighted. “But I told him that I liked you and I could be nice to you if I wanted to.” Mary Martha laid her hand on Johnny Mack’s arm. “I told him that you were so good to me that night…that night…I’m not supposed to remember, am I? Kent said not to tell anyone, but I told you. And you believed me, didn’t you?”

  “Mary Martha, dear, please don’t upset yourself,” Edith said.

  Dear God, she had to find a way to make her daughter keep quiet. The more she talked, the more she might remember. And Edith couldn’t allow that to happen. If Mary Martha started remembering the ancient past, she might remember more recent events.

  She might remember what had happened the day Kent died.

  Chapter 12

  “Buddy, will you be a dear and take Mary Martha for her afternoon stroll?” Edith glanced at Mrs. Russell, who waited in the doorway. “Go upstairs and tell Jackie to hurry up with Miss Mary Martha’s sweater.”

  Mary Martha squeezed Johnny Mack’s arm. “You will excuse me, won’t you? Mother insists I get some sunshine every day.”

  “Of course.”

  What the hell had happened to Mary Martha? Johnny Mack wondered. She had always been emotionally fragile, and for good reason if what she’d told him fifteen years ago was true. But even that night, when she had been drunk and hysterical and begged him to make love to her, she’d still had a precarious hold on reality. But now…dear God, now she was completely lost.