Blind Trust

by Sandra Orchard

  A few minutes later, he pulled to the curb in front of the Lawton house. “Wait here,” he said to Kate, not sure how Vic would respond to a cop showing up on his doorstep.

  Kate made no move to get out anyway. She probably hadn’t counted on him taking her up on her offer. She glanced around the neighborhood, then at Vic’s pickup in the driveway, a couple of lawnmowers and weed-whackers strapped in the back.

  He tried not to notice how vulnerable she looked.

  When Vic didn’t respond to the first knock, Tom directed Hutchinson to cover the back, then pounded harder. “Vic, it’s the police. Open up. We know you’re in there.”

  The door jerked open to reveal Vic half-dressed in faded jeans, a T-shirt in his fist. He was unshaven, although he smelled like he’d bathed in aftershave, and his hair was still damp. Dark circles ringed his eyes.

  “I knew it,” Vic muttered, turning from the door, his shoulders slumped. “I knew it sounded too easy.” He sunk to the sofa, planted his elbows on his knees and cupped his head in his hands.

  Tom stared at him, speechless. He hadn’t expected this level of remorse. Most criminals made at least one attempt to deny guilt. Not wanting to miss the opportunity to take full advantage of his remorse, Tom read him his rights.

  At the sound of Hutchinson stomping onto the porch, Vic glanced up, dragging his fingers down his whiskers. The color drained from his face. “I should’ve known you’d be behind this.” Vehemence crept into his voice.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Kate demanded.

  Tom’s gaze snapped to the open door, eyes flaring. “I told you to wait in the car.”

  “Is he dead?” Vic asked, his voice hollow.

  Tom whirled his attention back to Vic. “Is who dead?”

  Vic’s eyes widened. Red streaked up his neck and back into his cheeks. “Why are you here?”

  Tom pinned him with a piercing gaze. “Why do you think we’re here?”

  “I don’t know. You jolted me out of a deep sleep.”

  The guy didn’t look like he’d slept all night.

  “I missed a payment on my truck. I figured you came to repossess it. I can’t do my job without it, you know. That’s why I was upset.” He slouched over again, gripping his head.

  “The police don’t repossess trucks, Mr. Lawton. What sounded too easy?”

  His attention snapped back to Tom. “What do you mean?”

  “A minute ago, you said you knew it sounded too easy.”

  “Why are you messing with me? If you’re going to arrest me, just get it over with.”

  “For missing a car payment?” Tom fished. He knew it was unconventional, but unless he missed his guess, Vic’s remorse went a lot deeper than passing a few phony bills. He just prayed Kate didn’t clue in. Tom whispered to Hutchinson to check the passenger side’s fender on Vic’s truck and report back.

  Unfortunately, Hutchinson’s hasty exit piqued Kate’s attention. She tracked his movement through the front window and let out a strangled gasp. “It was you!”

  25

  Kate’s legs turned to jelly at the sight of Hutchinson examining Vic’s truck. She sank into the nearest chair. “Why?”

  Tom clasped her shoulders and urged her to stand. “You should wait outside.”

  Kate shrugged off his hold. “He ran my—”

  “Vic.” Tom’s loud voice drowned out her protest. “Why were you in the woods off Hollow Road last night?”

  Kate pressed her lips together, realizing what she’d almost done.

  Vic tugged his T-shirt over his head. “There wasn’t supposed to be anyone there. He didn’t say anything about anyone else being there.”

  “Who didn’t?” Kate blurted, earning a scowl from Tom.

  “I don’t know who he was. Just some guy. He saw the odd jobs sign on the side of my truck and asked if I’d be interested in digging up a few plants for him.”

  “On someone else’s property?” Kate’s voice pitched higher.

  Tom put a heavy hand on her shoulder.

  She glared at him. “He can’t just traipse onto anyone’s property and start digging up their plants.”

  “Then what were you do—?” Vic suddenly clamped his mouth shut as if realizing what he’d admitted.

  Kate’s breath caught as his explanation sunk in. Someone knew about the plants. It had to be GPC. Who else? Her eyes stung at the thought. Her father gave up everything to keep the plants out of their hands. And now . . .

  “Can you describe the man who hired you?” Tom asked.

  Vic shrugged. “He wore a fancy suit, drove a fancy car, and offered me a thousand dollars.”

  “A thousand dollars,” Kate blurted. “You’d—”

  Tom’s hand returned to her shoulder, his fingers digging in more insistently, as he leaned close to her ear. “Let me ask the questions, or you’ll wait outside.”

  She surged to her feet and out of his reach. Crossing her arms, she stood in front of the window. Outside, Hutchinson was taking photos of Vic’s front fender. A thousand dollars. “What kind of a man runs someone off the road for a measly thousand dollars?” she muttered under her breath.

  “I panicked when I saw Miss Adams. I knew she’d snitch on me if she saw me there. I didn’t see the other guy at first. But Miss Adams had a spade too. I figured she was trying to cheat me out of my money. You can see that, right?”

  “Sure,” Tom agreed.

  Kate clenched her fists. She kept her mouth shut, though. Technically she’d been there to steal a plant too.

  “I didn’t hurt her bad.” He jutted his hand in her direction. “You can see for yourself.” His eyes speared her. “You don’t understand what it’s like. You with all your highfalutin education, working up there in your government-funded ivory tower, not even willing to pay a little out to have your lawn mowed or a room painted, while guys like me can barely scrape together enough to pay the mortgage, let alone put food on the table.”

  “That’s why you printed the money? To put food on the table?” Tom interjected before Kate could comment on the giant flat-screen TV in the corner that could’ve covered a few bills.

  Vic inhaled sharply and looked around wild-eyed. “Where’s Izzy and Trish?”

  Tom pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “Your wife was arrested for counterfeiting.”

  “No!” Vic surged to his feet, shaking his head violently.

  Kate backed into the corner, and Tom instantly stepped in the gap, motioning Vic to calm down.

  He collapsed onto the sofa, clutching his head. “Izzy didn’t have anything to do with it. I clean the newspaper offices on Saturdays. I knew her computer password. It was all me. She doesn’t know anything.”

  “What about the letter to the editor? The text message to the mayor?” Tom asked.

  Vic jabbed a finger in Kate’s direction. “She was blasting off her mouth against the one company that might offer a decent job to guys like me around here. Someone had to do something.”

  “To discredit her?” Tom said as coolly as if he were asking about the weather.

  “You charging me for that too?” Vic asked hopelessly. “Might as well. I’m going to spend the rest of my life in jail anyway, aren’t I?”

  Vic snatched up a family photograph and tenderly outlined the faces of his wife and daughter. “I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted the plants back. I wasn’t lying about the truck payments. If I lose the truck, I’ll lose my business.”

  “He’s not dead,” Kate whispered, a shard of pity for the man piercing her heart.

  His head shot up, his eyes brimming with hope. “He ain’t?”

  “He’s in critical condition,” Tom said soberly. “And these plants, where did you deliver them?”

  “I didn’t. I . . . I . . . broke the window with a rock.” Vic’s hand clenched as if holding an imaginary rock. “He looked at me like he was memorizing my face, and . . .” Vic slammed his fist against his leg. “When I saw what I’d done, saw
the blood dripping from his head, I . . . I . . .”

  “Ran,” Tom filled in.

  Vic rubbed at a spot on his faded jeans. “I drove around for hours. Then came home and showered and showered, but I couldn’t get rid of that awful feeling. I swear I didn’t mean to hurt no one.”

  Kate hardened her heart against her growing pity for the man. The man who beat her father with a rock and left him to die. Tears blurred her eyes as Tom handcuffed Vic and handed him over to Hutchinson.

  Tom cupped her shoulders, gently this time. “C’mon Kate, time to go.”

  She blinked her eyes clear. “What happened to the plants?”

  “It’s okay, honey.”

  “It’s not okay,” she cried. “He almost killed my—”

  Tom turned her toward him and crushed her in his arms. “I know.” He stroked her back, making soothing noises, and as much as she didn’t want to lean on him anymore, she couldn’t stop herself from crying all over again.

  Tom’s heart ached at the silent torment on Kate’s face as she sat at her father’s bedside. Most people would be ranting at God for twenty years of separation and the unconscious state that kept her father from really being with her even now. Part of Tom wished she’d rant at him for keeping her father’s secret so long.

  He touched her shoulder. “Can I get you anything?”

  Her head turned his way, but her gaze seemed unfocused. “All these years, I convinced myself he was innocent despite how things looked. But I was afraid to search too hard for the truth for fear I was wrong. I just wanted to believe that somehow God had a higher purpose in everything that happened.”

  “Maybe he did. Your family experiences fueled your interest in herbal research, especially in finding a cure for depression, right?”

  She turned back to her father’s bed as if expecting him to stir. The heart rate monitor marked the time with a steady beat. She drew in a ragged breath. “Deep down I think I blamed myself for his arrest the same way I did when Mom got into one of her funks. I’d think if I could just be a better daughter, she’d be happy.”

  Tom rubbed Kate’s back. “It was never your fault.”

  She shook her head. “We weren’t enough for Dad.”

  “That’s not true. He loves you very much. He wanted to tell you himself.”

  “Then how could he choose punishing a stupid company over being with his family? He sacrificed his life and our future together for what? GPC didn’t suffer.”

  “But we don’t know what plans he might have thwarted.”

  “He kept the plant from being used to heal people. How is that good?”

  “Maybe that’s not what GPC planned to use it for. It’s not always easy to know the right thing to do.”

  “Being honest is a good start.”

  Tom winced, suspecting she was talking about him as much as her father. “Even if the truth will endanger people?”

  “The truth got Jesus crucified. Minimizing collateral damage may sound noble, but sometimes you just need to trust people to act responsibly, rather than take the decision from their hands.”

  Tom pressed his lips together, but the image of Ian’s burning car preyed on his mind, and he couldn’t remain silent. “My partner died because I put loyalty to him above duty. Trust me, I know how hard these judgment calls can be to make, and even harder to live with.”

  Her gaze dropped to the bed, where she held her father’s hand in her own. “I know you didn’t want to keep my father’s secret from me,” she whispered. “But . . .”

  He had.

  Her body trembled, but she wouldn’t welcome his comfort. Not this time.

  Unable to bear watching her torment any longer, he slipped into the hallway. He took a seat where he could keep an eye on her father’s door and all the entry points to the unit and pulled out his cell phone.

  No new messages.

  He tried calling his NSA buddy again. If anyone could arrange some cross-border cooperation to get Kate’s father safely out of harm’s way, Zeb could. Tom had no idea who he could trust in the local police station, let alone among the elite group of officers who could pull off the kind of shell game he was proposing.

  Zeb picked up. “I got your message,” he said immediately. “I should’ve known when you got yourself entangled in that Molly Gilmore case that you’d be a thorn in our side.”

  “What’s Gilmore got to do with anything?”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  Was his affection for Kate—Gilmore’s intended victim—that obvious? Tom glanced at his watch. They’d already been here too long. “Just tell me if you can make it work.”

  “Yeah, it’s taken care of.”

  “Where will you put him?”

  “Better if you don’t know, don’t you think? Especially if whoever hired Vic Lawton figures out who your victim really is.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Except no way did he intend to let Kate think her father had died. Not again. He just prayed Vic had told the truth about not mentioning Kate’s being in the woods to the guy who’d hired him. Since the burlap sacks were never found, chances were he’d lied about not taking them. At least if the goon had gotten what he wanted, he shouldn’t give them any more trouble. Not the outcome Baxter would’ve wanted after twenty years of hiding, but probably safer for Kate.

  A commotion erupted in the glass-walled nurses’ station. The two nurses bolted into ICU.

  Tom’s heart sank. “I gotta go.” He clicked off the phone and dashed back into the room. Kate flung herself into his arms. He held her close, thanking God that she wasn’t shutting him out. “I’m so sorry, Kate.”

  She lifted her head from his chest, her face beaming. “It’s good news.” She swiped at happy tears with her sleeve. “His eyelids fluttered. He’s waking up.”

  Tom’s gaze shot to the nurse checking Baxter’s vitals. “We see this sometimes. I’m afraid it doesn’t necessarily mean anything’s changed.”

  “He’s getting better,” Kate insisted.

  Tom’s arm tightened around her shoulder. “C’mon, we need to go.”

  “But—” She pulled away and leaned over her father’s bed and kissed his cheek. Her hand slipped over his. “I love you, Daddy,” she whispered close to his ear. “Please, come back to me.”

  Tom gently caught her shoulder to urge her away. As they turned toward the door, a face disappeared from the window. Tom’s heart rammed into his throat. It was Peter Ratcher. He was positive. And he’d seen Kate.

  “Wait here,” Tom said to her and charged out. The hall was empty. He raced to the stairwell. No one. He checked the one at the other end of the hall, scanned the parking lot from the window. Nothing.

  Pulling out his phone, he rushed back to get Kate.

  Zeb picked up on the first ring. “What’s going on? Why’d you hang up so fast?”

  Outside the ICU door, Tom paused at the heart-wrenching sight of Kate huddled over her father. “Ratcher knows. The move has to happen now.”

  Driving from the hospital with Kate, Tom pulled into the three-car lot of a little-used trailhead. “We need to talk.”

  “Who did you see outside the hospital room?”

  “Do you want to walk?”

  “No.” Her fingers twisted in her lap. Her leg bounced. “Yeah, okay.” She sprang out of the car and wrapped her arms around her waist, watching him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  The sun slipped behind a cloud as he motioned toward the trailhead. The parking lot was empty except for them, but he scanned the trail ahead and surrounding forest for any sign of listening ears, then matched her step. “We need to move your dad.”

  She whirled toward him. “Move him where?”

  “Away from here. You can be sure the guy who hired Vic will want to know what your father’s interest in the plants is. Or worse, put an end to it.”

  Her face went ashen. “You can’t take him away from me.”

  Her plea hit like a punch to the gut
. “Peter Ratcher saw you in your father’s hospital room.”

  The panic in her eyes confirmed she knew exactly what that could mean.

  Tom cupped her shoulders. “Every minute you’re with your dad increases the risk these goons will figure out who he really is and come after you too.”

  “But it was Vic’s idea to run my father off the road. Not whoever hired him. Maybe—”

  “This isn’t a debate.” Tom softened his voice. “It’s all arranged.”

  “No, you have no right!” She spun on her heel and marched back toward the parking lot.

  He caught her arm and jerked her to a stop. “I didn’t have to tell you, Kate. I could have let you . . .”

  “What?” Pain flared in her eyes. “Keep on believing he was already dead?”

  “No.” Tom looked away. He hadn’t thought he could feel any worse. “Let you believe he was dead again.”

  “What?”

  A bird took flight at her cry.

  Tom glanced around. Hearing and seeing no one, he explained, “That’s how we plan to hide the move. Fake his death.”

  Her jaw dropped and she just stared at him.

  “It’s the perfect way to get the heat off him, and you.” He’d managed to keep her name out of Vic’s file. The man had been more than happy to not have an assault charge added to his list of crimes. Which just left Peter Ratcher to deal with.

  “I don’t care about me.”

  “Well, I do.” His voice caught.

  Her mouth opened, then closed again—and let out a soft huff. “Other people know I’ve been in those woods.”

  “Grandma Brewster has no use for reporters, and I doubt Nagy or his son will say anything with charges hanging over their heads.”

  “What about his real estate agent and the guy he was showing the property to?”

  Tom’s gut churned. The interested buyer could be who’d hired Vic. “But you didn’t think they’d seen you looking at the plant, right?”