Too Many Lies

by E B Corbin

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Blank Page

  prologue

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  Epilogue

  Thank You

  Other Books by EB Corbin

  TOO MANY LIES

  EB CORBIN

  Copyright © 2017 EB Corbin

  All rights reserved.

  #

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner or printed form without permission. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons or places is purely coincidental.

  - Prologue -

  Oilville, PA - February 2017

  In theory, coming home brings salvation and peace to the soul. But as Roxy O'Hara drew closer to what had once been her favorite place in the world, her stomach clenched and her head pounded.

  The moonless night allowed the pickup's headlights to penetrate the ambient darkness, revealing only one small stretch of road at a time. That was no problem. She knew every twist and turn by heart.

  So why the sense of foreboding? She dismissed it as nonsense. Of course she'd be safe. This was home.

  Soon her truck eased into a familiar gravel driveway that was now blanketed in pristine snow. Before climbing out, she gazed at the structure, noting how the red tint of the Douglas fir logs had deepened over the years. The cabin glowed under the dim starlight looking none the worse for the time it stood empty.

  After spending the last three months in the hospital and rehab center while recovering from a gunshot wound to her lower back, she longed for the warmth of the soothing fireplace and her queen-sized bed. At sixty-one, she healed slower than she liked. As soon as she regained her strength, she intended to continue the mission she'd assumed was over some thirty years ago.

  Thanks to her daughter, Roxanne, they had identified the man who fired the rifle which put her out of commission back in November. Again, thanks to her daughter, the shooter met his fate. She hoped Roxanne made peace with her part in Luke Meyer's death. No doubt shooting the deputy had resulted in some sleepless nights.

  She'd make it up to Roxanne when she was certain the rest of the money was safe. Mother and daughter had much to discuss and plenty of lost time to bridge. Although Roxy looked forward to getting to know her namesake, first she needed to complete her quest.

  Lost in reverie, Roxy never saw the two men who crept towards her through the dark woods. They grabbed her from behind when she stood outside the vehicle reaching for her small suitcase on the passenger seat. Her back spasmed as her recent injury reminded her of her vulnerability. Rehab had helped considerably, but the struggle with the men was over before it began. All the same, her swinging elbows and feet brought grunts from both attackers.

  Tonight she again faced danger head-on. She continued to fight until a cloth closed over her nose and mouth. Inhaling a sweet, chemical smell, she passed into oblivion.

  - 1 -

  The repeated buzz woke Roxanne. She groaned, rolled off the couch and knocked an empty wine bottle to the floor. The back of her hand shielded her eyes as she stumbled to the door, prepared to tell the noise-maker to get lost. Ignoring her throbbing head and parched throat, she peered through the sidelights to catch a glimpse of the interloper. Frowning, she grappled with the locks.

  "What are you doing here?" As she faced the man at the door, she self-consciously ran her fingers through her hair.

  Callahan displayed his trademark crooked grin and a box from the only bakery in town. "I brought breakfast."

  "You were gone for weeks, never called or texted, never made any attempt at communicating, and now, you show up with breakfast?" She shook her head, then grabbed the doorframe as the pain above her eyes kicked in. Never again would she drink a whole bottle of wine in one night. "I don't know what to say."

  "How about, welcome back. I'm glad to see you," he offered.

  Truth be told, she didn't know how she felt about his return. "A heads-up would have been nice. You're my second unexpected visitor in two days and I'm tired of surprises."

  "Oh?" Callahan held up the box. "Well, if you invite me in, we can talk about your negative reaction to surprises. Most people like them."

  "No sense in your standing outside in the cold." She stepped back from the door suddenly aware of how she must look--her clothes wrinkled, her hair uncombed. And her breath! She didn't even want to think about it. "Let me get cleaned up."

  "Did I wake you? It's almost ten o'clock. Thought you'd be up by now."

  She rolled her eyes. Callahan was the last person she needed to see this morning.

  During her ordeal in November, after he rescued her several times, her attraction to the Diplomatic Security Service agent had grown stronger. He'd almost made her forget she'd sworn off men for the rest of her life--until he disappeared with no explanation.

  She had one failed marriage and one unsuccessful live-in arrangement in her past, she didn't need or want another. Fighting her attraction to the DSS agent was difficult, but when he remained incommunicado for six weeks she'd finally written him off. Now that he was back, and she felt the familiar tug of attraction, she determined to keep it under wraps.

  Roxanne reminded herself that, even though they were practically inseparable during that one, heart-pounding week last year, he'd given only veiled hints about developing a deeper relationship. Not that getting involved was on her radar any time soon. She didn't miss the complications. She could forge a life for herself without leaning on anyone.

  At least, that's what she'd planned before Roxy showed up. Now, everything might fall apart.

  Even so, this called for making herself presentable before her reunion with Callahan went any further. She told him she'd be right back and headed upstairs.

  The aroma of coffee filled the kitchen and assorted donuts sat on a plate by the time she finished a quick shower. She felt somewhat better and Callahan's arrival seemed less jarring now compared to Roxy's return. She couldn't help but recall her reaction when she opened the door last night. The shock of finding the woman on her porch had been too much to handle. She had so many questions but the synapses in her brain kept misfiring.

  Where had Roxy been? Why did she fake her own death? More importantly, why did she come back? Did Roxanne have to rearrange her life again? She'd received no satisfactory answers, only a few evasive replies before her unexpected visitor disappeared in the darkness.

  This morning, her concerns seemed less important than they were in the dead of night, although they hovered like threatening clouds on the horizon. Then Callahan showed up, bearing gifts of sugary treats, but offering no apology for his absence.

  Despite her resentment, it was good to see him again. She hoped he had some of the answers that Roxy hadn't shared.

  When they were settled at the table, she with coffee and Callahan holding a glazed donut, he looked at her sharply. "Wh
at's the problem?" he asked between bites.

  "Roxy stopped by last night."

  He choked on the sweet pastry. "Roxy?"

  "Yeah, my mother, Roxy."

  Callahan swallowed before continuing. "But... how can that be?"

  "She didn't die from the gunshot." She studied him closely, looking for a telltale reaction. "I must say, you and Chester were very convincing."

  "I thought she was dead." Callahan sounded sincere and shocked. "Are you sure it was Roxy?"

  "Of course I'm sure," she snapped. "She said Chester moved her to some facility in Virginia, just outside of D.C. You expect me to believe he never told you?"

  "I swear, I had no idea." He pushed his chair back and dropped the half-eaten donut on the table. "What the hell was Gramps thinking?"

  "From what Roxy told me, he assumed she wouldn't be safe in the local hospital." Roxanne sipped her coffee as her hopes of getting answers from Callahan slowly died. "He was right. Look what happened to Patterson."

  Ralph Patterson had been one of two attorneys in Oilville. After he contacted Roxanne about Roxy O'Hara's will, he was injured in a hit-and-run before they could meet. While in the hospital, recovering from two broken legs and crushed vertebrae, he was smothered by a pillow late one night--perpetrator unknown.

  Sylvia Patterson, Ralph's widow, initially blamed Roxanne for her husband's fate. Later on, she expressed remorse for her thoughtless accusation and apologized. She asked Roxanne to help with the clients left in the lurch when Ralph died. Reluctant at first, Roxanne changed her mind when the partnership offer she was expecting from her law firm in Pittsburgh turned out to be more of a consolation prize than recognition for her hard work and talent.

  Roxanne resigned her position, sold her condo and moved to Oilville, yearning for a fresh start. Since she believed she'd inherited a popular diner, a well-kept home in town and a large working farm with a cozy cabin, she no longer worried about making her mark as a tax attorney. She found she enjoyed working with the small business people in the pint-sized town more than the arrogant, blustering CFOs she had to deal with at the large law firm in Pittsburgh.

  Now she wondered if she had made a big mistake. Roxy O'Hara was back. That meant Roxanne could be left with nothing--not even a place to live. And after her mother's brief, disconcerting visit last night, she didn't know how much of an explanation to expect.

  Callahan broke into her thoughts. "We know Patti was responsible for Patterson's accident, but we still don't know who killed him. Maybe Roxy can give us a clue."

  "Good luck with that," Roxanne said. "I'd like to give Sylvia some closure on Ralph's death, but that's a job for the state police. Besides, Roxy didn't say anything last night. She blew in and out of here in minutes."

  "In that case, we may never find out unless Dan O'Malley has a sudden attack of conscience and admits something. He's the only one left alive from that crew." Callahan paced the room. "Assuming it was Roxy you met last night, what makes her think it's safe to show up now?"

  "I have no idea. She claimed she was tired from driving all day and wanted to get to her cabin. She only stopped to let me know she was back and she'd be staying there for a while."

  "She didn't ask about the cash or the IRA?" Callahan asked.

  "She didn't say much about anything." Roxanne shrugged. "Even when I told her I knew she was my birth mother."

  Callahan stopped pacing and perched on the stool next to Roxanne. He took her hand. "How'd she take that?"

  Roxanne raised her eyebrows then lowered them. Much as she told herself to pull away, her hand remained in his. "Just kind of accepted it. Said she figured her sister wouldn't keep her mouth shut. I pointed out that the woman I considered my mother had kept quiet for almost forty years."

  "Did she mention what she was going to do now? Is she staying in town?"

  "Who knows? I told you she didn't tell me much. She switched her rental car for the pickup and left in a rush."

  "What do you suppose she's planning?"

  "I've been trying to figure that out since she left." Roxanne struggled to ignore the spark from their prolonged physical contact, wondering if she should withdraw her hand. "I spent most of the night drinking wine and feeling sorry for myself. I fell asleep on the couch at some point and was rudely awakened by the doorbell."

  "Sorry." Callahan casually played with her fingers, keeping his eyes on the table.

  "Chester didn't say anything to you? He must have at least suspected Roxy was coming back."

  "If he did, he didn't tell me."

  "How long have you been in town?" Her question had a dual purpose. She slowly pulled her hand from his. No need to drum up sentiments better left alone. At least until she heard his answer.

  "Since late last night. But Chester never mentioned Roxy. He and three of his friends had a poker game going so we didn't talk much." Callahan reached for her chin and tuned her head to face him. "I should have called you as soon as I got in but I thought it might be too late. I'm sorry."

  Roxanne ignored his apology and glanced away. "Do you think he knew she'd return?"

  Callahan shrugged and started to pack up the uneaten donuts. "Why don't we ask him?"

  Roxanne hesitated before nodding. It might be awkward becoming Callahan's cohort again, but she needed answers. She gulped the rest of her coffee and grabbed her coat, following him to his SUV.

  They were soon speeding along the road leading to Chester's farm. As they approached the curve where one of Luke's friends had forced her car off the road into a partially frozen creek, she closed her eyes to keep from reliving the panic she'd suffered at the time.

  When she opened them again, they were nearing Roxy's cabin. Chester's place would be coming up soon. Lulled by the humming of tires on the asphalt, she glanced at Roxy's place and noticed tire tracks in the lane. Nothing strange about that, except the pickup wasn't in sight.

  "Wait!" She grabbed his arm, causing the SUV to veer to the right. As he gained control of the vehicle, she said, "Sorry. Maybe we should stop and check on Roxy. I don't see the truck."

  "She might have pulled behind the cabin," he said. "Thought you wanted some answers from Chester."

  "I do. But it can't hurt for us to check on Roxy first."

  Callahan cut the SUV into the lane, stopping beside the cabin. Ahead of them, toward the rear of the structure, the tire tracks stopped and the snow showed signs of a disturbance. But no footprints led to the front door and no smoke rose from the chimney. "Are you sure she was coming here?"

  "That's what she said." Roxanne felt edgy, anxious to confront her mother now that she'd had time to adjust. She needed answers. She jumped out of the SUV before Callahan turned off the ignition.

  "Slow down." He eased open the driver's door while scanning the driveway, the cabin and the surrounding woods. "Something's wrong."

  Roxanne saw nothing suspicious but stopped in her tracks at his tone of voice.

  "See that cluster of footprints coming from the trees? It looks like a struggle and something was dragged to the woodpile out back." He studied the area while reaching inside his jacket to free his 9mm. "Let me check things out."

  "What am I supposed to do?"

  "Just... stay here for now, okay?" He jabbed his index finger at her for emphasis.

  Roxanne grunted her reluctant agreement and stood with her arms folded, stomping her feet to keep them warm. She studied the area with the disturbed snow and slowly started to inch forward.

  "Stay put!" Callahan barked at her without turning around.

  "Okay, okay. Calm down." Did he have eyes in the back of his head?

  Callahan approached the corner of the cabin, dropped to a crouch and disappeared behind the woodpile. "Shit!"

  "What. What is it?" Roxanne jumped in place, trying not to leave her spot beside the SUV.

  "Stay where you are," Callahan ordered. "There's a body back here."

  "A body?" No matter how hard she tried, she could not stand still
any longer. She ran to the woodpile, came to a sliding stop and sucked in a breath when she saw a human form, face down in the snow with the hood of a parka pulled over its head. "Who is it? What happened?"

  "What part of 'stay' don't you understand?" Callahan shook his head while his eyes searched the surrounding trees and the back of the cabin. Finally, he stooped and pushed aside the parka's hood to see the face buried in the snow. "Shit and double shit."

  "Is it Roxy?" Callahan's back blocked her view but she dare not move any closer, unwilling to face his wrath. She hugged herself to control her shivering.

  At last, Callahan raised his head. "No, it's Seth Hollister, a friend of Gramps. Dammit!"

  "What's he doing here?"

  Callahan ignored her question. "We need to call the sheriff."

  Roxanne muttered, "Well, hell--he'll try to blame me for this."

  The sheriff had been outraged when she was not prosecuted for shooting one of his deputies. Since he got nowhere with that accusation, Sheriff Walters tried to throw suspicion on her for shooting Roxy. But now that Roxy turned up alive, that was a moot point. Seth's death, on the other hand, gave the sheriff new ammunition.

  "Walters would have to prove it and you never even met Seth, did you?" Callahan asked.

  "I don't think so." Roxanne took one tiny step closer, inspecting the area but keeping her eyes averted from the body. "Do you see any blood? Maybe he had a heart attack. I can't be responsible for that."

  "We still need to call Walters and get Seth moved to the morgue for an autopsy." Callahan carefully replaced the parka hood the way he'd found it.

  "Where's Roxy? And why didn't she call the police?" Roxanne scanned the area behind the cabin. Not a single footprint visible in the unblemished snow. "The truck's not here. It doesn't look as if anyone's been in the cabin."

  "Maybe she went to Chester's." Callahan pulled out his phone, pushing a single button. "Gramps, hey, it's John. Uh, Roxy isn't with you by any chance, is she?"