After Dark

by Beverly Barton

  “Yeah, well, that could be and then again, might not be,” Buddy said.

  “Look, Will’s told you all he knows.” Lane moved between Buddy and her son. “Just leave him alone. If you need to ask him more questions, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow. After the doctor stitches up the cut on Will’s head, he’s being admitted for twenty-four hours of observation. Not only does he have a nasty slash on his head, but he has a mild concussion, too.”

  “Why don’t you talk to Mary Martha again?” Johnny Mack said. “Maybe she’s more at herself this morning, and it’s just possible she’ll actually remember something.”

  “It’s possible, but highly unlikely.” Buddy nodded. “Nothing would please me more than if Mary Martha had one lucid day. Back before Kent was murdered, she had a good day now and then.”

  “I promise you that if Will remembers anything else, we’ll call you immediately.” Johnny Mack clutched Buddy’s shoulder. “Come on, let me walk you out.”

  Lane breathed a sigh of relief as the two men exited the ER cubicle. If Buddy had stayed one minute longer, if he had asked one more question, she would have screamed. Considering what she had just survived, she certainly didn’t want to go berserk after the fact. Will was alive, and except for the cut and the concussion, he was fine.

  So what exactly did that mean? Had the person who had attacked her son only meant to hurt him, not kill him? Or had the attempt on Will’s life somehow gone awry and he had survived by mere chance?

  “May I come in?” Edith Ware asked as she hovered outside the open door.

  “Will, do you want to see Miss Edith?” Lane asked.

  “Sure.” He glanced past Lane and smiled at the woman who had been his grandmother all his life. “Come on in.” He motioned to her with a welcoming wave.

  “How are you, Will?” Edith walked past Lane and went straight to the side of the examining table.

  “They say I’ll be fine. Comes from having such a hard noggin.” He pecked himself on the side of his head. “I just need a few stitches.”

  “He has a minor concussion,” Lane said. “They’re keeping him twenty-four hours for observation.”

  “Was Mary Martha with you when it happened?” Edith asked.

  “She was outside the old carriage house when I went inside,” Will explained. “She was convinced that Kent was in there waiting on us.”

  Gasping, Edith clutched the strand of pearls that rested atop her bosom. “Dear Lord. You don’t think…I mean it’s not possible that she would have…” Tears glistened in Edith’s eyes.

  “Ah, Grandmother, don’t cry.” Will slid off the table and onto his feet; then he patted Edith on the back. “Aunt Mary Martha would never hurt me. She couldn’t hurt a fly. You know she’s the most gentle person in the world.”

  Edith’s lips trembled. She swiped away the teardrops as they escaped from the corners of her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re going to be all right. We were all so very worried about you. Your mother and Johnny Mack. James and I. And Buddy, too. He was determined to find you.”

  “I’m sure glad Sheriff Carroll brought in Old Man Farlan’s hounds,” Will said. “If he hadn’t, who knows how long I’d have stayed under that old rowboat.”

  Until the killer came back for you. The horrific thought flashed through Lane’s mind. She barely stifled a gasp as the realization of how close Will had come to dying hit her full force.

  Dr. Lewis entered the room, followed closely by Johnny Mack. The young resident frowned when he saw how many people were crowded into the ER cubicle.

  “Would everyone step outside, please,” the doctor said.

  “Do you want me to stay?” Lane asked Will.

  “Mama, your baby’s a big boy now,” Dr. Lewis told her. “I don’t think he needs you to hold his hand while I put in a few stitches. Isn’t that right, Will?”

  “Yeah, Mama, you go on outside. I’ll be fine.”

  Lane hated to leave, wanted to stay. But she forced her legs to move. It wasn’t as if Will were in any danger here in the emergency room. But a mother’s fears could often be irrational. Especially when her only child had recently come close to dying.

  Johnny Mack hadn’t felt as powerless as he did right now—not in many years. He didn’t like not being in control. In Houston, he had become one of the moneyed elite, the materialization of his every whim only a snap of his fingers away. Anything his bank account could pay for was his. Beautiful women pursued him. Businessmen either called him friend or feared him. He was a man to be reckoned with, and he liked the person he was today, who was a far cry from that white trash poor boy who had fled from Noble’s Crossing years ago.

  But despite his wealth, power and sophisticated veneer, here in his hometown he would always be Faith Cahill’s bastard. In Noble’s Crossing he wore his heritage like a badge of dishonor and couldn’t escape the past. Here he had come face-to-face with that past. Here he had to pay for his sins. And it was here he had to make atonement to the innocents he had wronged, no matter how inadvertent his actions had been. The last two people on earth he would have harmed had been harmed the most—the child he had never known existed and the woman he had never been able to forget. But he could protect them now, keep them out of harm’s way. By suppertime today, three top-notch body guards, handpicked by Wyatt Foster, would arrive at the Noble home.

  Johnny Mack looked in the mirror, then scooped up a handful of water from the sink and washed the shave creme from his cheeks and chin. After towel drying his face, he reached for his shirt hanging on the wooden peg on the door. Just as he finished buttoning and started to stuff the shirt into the waistband of his jeans, a soft rap sounded on the outer bedroom door.

  Lane entered the room, but halted a few steps over the threshold. “She’s here, and Will is already downstairs talking to her, while Lillie Mae serves coffee.” Wringing her hands together, Lane walked toward Johnny Mack. “I don’t understand why Will is insisting on doing this now, so soon. We just brought him home from the hospital.”

  Leaving his shirt half in and half out of his jeans, Johnny Mack came forward and clasped Lane’s nervous hands in his steady ones. “We have to let Will do this, honey. It’s what he wants.”

  “I know.” Lane clenched her teeth together and frowned.

  Johnny Mack hugged her, encompassing her with all the strength he had to give. He had never realized how much a man could care for a woman, how vital her existence could become to him. He couldn’t explain it, could hardly believe it, but somehow, someway, Lane had become as essential to him as the air he breathed.

  “Let me finish dressing and we’ll go downstairs.” He hugged her again, then cupped her face with his hands and looked deeply into her beautiful blue eyes. “Whatever Will remembers…if he remembers anything else…we’ll face it together. You and me and Will. A family.”

  Lane drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “Thank God Lillie Mae sent for you.” Tears misted her eyes. “I thought I had become a strong woman who didn’t need anyone to lean on, least of all some man. But I realize that I do need someone. I need you, Johnny Mack.” A lone tear trickled down her cheek.

  Johnny Mack kissed her. Half comfort and half passion. Part love and part lust. A combination of all the varied emotions Lane brought to life within him. She sighed when he ended the kiss.

  He pulled away and hurriedly shoved his shirttail inside his jeans, then buttoned them and snapped his belt buckle. “Let’s go.”

  They found Will with Dr. Agee in the den, the two talking quietly. The minute he saw his parents, Will stood and went to Lane.

  “Mama, stop worrying,” Will said. “I can tell by the look on your face that you’re scared for me. Don’t be. I’ll be okay. I promise.”

  “But what if…”

  Standing directly behind her, Johnny Mack clutched her shoulders and gave her an encouraging squeeze. “We’ll be here with him the entire time. And Dr. Agee isn’t going to do anything she thinks is bad for Wil
l.”

  Nola Agee came forward and smiled cordially at Lane. “Will and I have been talking, and I believe that he’s ready for another session. I think his not knowing what happened that day is far more harmful to him than whatever he’ll have to face when he remembers everything.”

  Lane and Johnny Mack took their seats, while Dr. Agee prepared first the room and then Will. Slowly, progressively, she led him into a state of relaxation, in a similar manner to the other times that she had helped him reach a deep level of meditation. She began by asking him simple questions, ones designed not to upset him; then when Will was fully prepared, she led him back to the fatal day—the last day of Kent Graham’s life.

  “You helped Lillie Mae to her room; then you went back outside,” Dr. Agee said, mentally returning him to the moment he had encountered Kent’s body. “What did you see when you walked back into the garden?”

  “Kent was there. On his knees. He was moaning. And holding up his hands. God, no. Don’t! Stop! Please, stop!”

  “Will, calm down and tell me what’s happening.”

  “Don’t hit him again. Please. You’re killing him.”

  “Who is hitting Kent?”

  Lane gripped Johnny Mack’s hand, leaned toward him and whispered, “He’s never remembered this before. He’s always remembered finding Kent’s body. Oh, dear Lord, could he have actually seen Kent being murdered?”

  “Will, who is hitting Kent?” Dr. Agee repeated.

  “I grabbed my baseball bat away from her, and when I did, she ran away, crying. I saw her. Standing there near the shrubbery. I bent over to check on Kent. He was dead. And she just kept crying and crying.”

  Johnny Mack held his breath. So close, he thought. Come on, Will. Tell us who you saw. Who killed Kent?

  “Will, who was crying? Who did you see standing near the shrubbery?” The doctor’s voice remained steady and confident.

  “She came through the shrubbery. I heard her voice. She said, ‘What have you done?’ But I couldn’t say anything. I wanted to scream, ‘You know I didn’t kill him. You know I didn’t do it.’”

  “Who was there with you, Will? Who did you see? Who spoke to you?”

  “You know it wasn’t me!” Will cried as tears poured down his cheeks. “Oh, Grandmother, you know I didn’t do it.”

  Chapter 26

  “Ma’am, there’s a phone call for Chief Lawler.” Mrs. Russell, ever the humble servant, stood outside the double French doors that opened up into the living room. “It’s Sergeant Bedlow.”

  “Take it in here,” Edith told Buddy, then dismissed the housekeeper with a wave of her hand.

  Buddy rose from the chair in which he had been reclining while he reassured Miss Edith that he’d had absolutely nothing to do with the near tragedy that had befallen Will Graham. He didn’t think she believed him, and he simply couldn’t understand her reasoning. She knew Will wasn’t her grandson, knew he was the offspring of two trailer trash lowlifes, and yet she seemed to still love the boy. She shouldn’t care what happened to Johnny Mack’s kid, but she did. Was her affection for Will somehow connected to the fact that he was John Graham’s grandson? Buddy suspected that despite their turbulent marriage, Edith had probably never loved any other man.

  Buddy lifted the receiver of the fancy crystal and gold telephone resting on the cherry commode. “Chief Lawler here.”

  “Buddy, this here’s T. C. I thought you should know that I just got the oddest call from Lane Graham.”

  “What kind of odd call?”

  When Edith widened her eyes and stared straight at him, Buddy shook his head, indicating to her that he didn’t have all the information yet.

  “Well, she asked to speak to me and no one else,” T. C. explained. “Then she told me that since you were so close to Kent’s family, it would be better if I handled the situation. She seemed real concerned about sparing you the ordeal. But I figured since you were already there at the Graham place, there wasn’t no need for me to come over and take care of something I know you’re going to want to handle yourself.”

  “What situation? Hell, man, get to the point.” When Buddy experienced a sudden choking sensation, he slipped two fingers beneath his collar to loosen it.

  “You’re not going to like this if it turns out to be true. It’s going to be damn hard on you if you have to arrest Miss Edith.”

  Buddy’s heartbeat accelerated at an alarming rate. “What the hell are you talking about? What did Lane tell you?”

  Edith sprang off the sofa, her eyes wild with concern. Buddy pumped his hand up and down, warning her to sit down and keep quiet.

  “Well, it seems that Will’s got his memory back,” T. C. said. “At least he remembers seeing Kent murdered. He told his therapist that he saw his grandmother hiding in the shrubbery, after she had beaten Kent to death with Will’s baseball bat.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Buddy said. “The boy’s been duped into believing some cockamamie story Lane and Johnny Mack have cooked up to try to place the blame on someone other than Lane.”

  “Could be, but you sure got yourself an open can of worms here, Chief. Can you imagine what’s going to happen when everybody in town hears about this new development? It’ll be the boy’s word against his grandmother’s.”

  “No one who knows Miss Edith would believe that she’d kill her own son. She adored Kent. She’s been devastated by his—”

  “I know all the arguments,” T. C. said. “But right now, you’ve got an immediate problem. Miss Lane asked me to meet her and Johnny Mack over at the Graham house. They’re on their way there now.”

  “Damn!”

  “And there’s one other thing you should know—they’ve already called Wes Stevens and told him exactly what they told me. So, you’d better get Miss Edith ready for some tough questioning.”

  Buddy gripped the receiver which quivered in his shaky hand. “I appreciate your letting me know.”

  “Do you want me to come on over there? If somebody has to arrest Miss Edith—”

  “No, I can take care of things here. And please, call Wes and tell him that I’m conducting an investigation and will report to him as soon as we sort through this mess.” Buddy replaced the receiver and turned to Edith. “Will’s memory is returning. He remembers seeing you hiding behind the shrubbery the day Kent was killed. He’s told his therapist that you beat Kent to death.”

  Edith closed her eyes momentarily and took a deep breath. Her slender shoulders lifted and fell slowly. Suddenly the woman looked every day of her sixty years. The strain of these past few weeks had taken its toll.

  “Will is confused at the moment,” she said. “But if he has remembered seeing me, it’s only a matter of time before he recalls exactly what happened.”

  “There will have to be an investigation. There’s no way to avoid it. But you can say that yes, you were there that day. But you can deny killing Kent. You can say that you saw Will kill Kent and you’ve kept quiet to protect the boy you’ve loved like a grandson all his life.” Buddy grabbed Edith by the shoulders and shook her. “It can be your word against his. And in this town, who are people going to believe?”

  “You idiot! Framing Lane for Kent’s murder was one thing, but blaming Will is another matter altogether. I will not accuse that child of something he didn’t do.” Edith jerked free of Buddy’s tight grip. “Don’t you see that once Will remembers everything and if Johnny Mack tells what he knows about Mary Martha and Kent, people are going to believe the truth. The vile, ugly truth.”

  “You’re not going to involve her in this,” Buddy warned. “I will not allow her to suffer anymore.”

  The only reason he had become embroiled in Miss Edith’s schemes was to help protect Mary Martha. He would do anything for her. Go to any lengths to keep her safe. Guilt and regret had been eating away at him for some time now, ever since he had learned the truth about what Kent had done to Mary Martha. If only he had known years ago. If only he had suspected the truth. H
e would have killed Kent. He would have happily beaten the man to death himself.

  Miss Edith had called him minutes after Kent’s murder, and together they had concocted a believable story, one they hoped would protect both Edith and Mary Martha. But before they could speak to Will and persuade him to back up their fabricated story, Lane had arrived and phoned the police, saying that she had discovered the body. The shock of Kent’s death—luckily—had traumatized Will so badly that he had suffered from partial amnesia.

  “I don’t see any way to keep Mary Martha out of it. We took a chance, counting on Will’s amnesia being permanent,” Edith said. “I had hoped Will wouldn’t remember, that we could get Lane convicted and put an end to it. But that damn Johnny Mack had to come back to Noble’s Crossing and stir things up.”

  “Well, you’d better prepare yourself to meet the devil,” Buddy told her. “Lane and Johnny Mack are on their way over here right now. They’ve already phoned Wes Stevens and told him that you killed Kent. Thank God, T. C. called me instead of coming over here himself the way Lane had asked him to do.”

  Buddy knew what he had to do, what he probably should have done weeks ago. They shoot horses to put them out of their misery, but they allow people to suffer the torment of the damned. But no more. No more suffering. No more pain. Peace. The peace of eternity.

  Buddy walked out of the living room, prepared to handle this situation the only way that he could—in order to protect the woman he loved. Edith ran out into the foyer and followed him to the foot of the staircase.

  “Buddy, where are you going? Lane and Johnny Mack will probably be here any minute now. We need to plan our strategy.”

  “You plan your strategy, Miss Edith,” he replied. “I’m going upstairs to see Mary Martha.”

  “It won’t do any good to talk to her. She won’t understand what’s happening.” Edith wrung her hands together. “Whatever happens to me, I can survive. But if they take Mary Martha away and put her in an institution—”

  “No one is ever going to put Mary Martha in a mental institution,” Buddy said softly as he continued climbing the stairs.