Every Move She Makes

by Beverly Barton

  Reed removed his dirty shirt and tossed it into the plastic clothes basket he’d picked up along with numerous other items at the local Dollar Store on his lunch break today. Be it ever so humble, he thought as he headed toward the tiny bathroom. He’d been out of prison for only a few weeks, and the heady sense of freedom still seemed new to him. In a way, he was almost afraid to rock the boat, to create any waves. But on the other hand, he felt that things were moving too slowly. Every day that passed was one more day that Junior Blalock’s real killer had an opportunity to find a way to put Reed back in jail. But solving a fifteen-year-old murder wasn’t an easy task. Especially not in a town like Spring Creek, where everyone believed him guilty and the police had never investigated any other suspects. Mark’s father and then Mark had tried unsuccessfully to have the case reopened. And years ago, Reed’s last appeal had changed nothing.

  He’d gone over the possible suspects time and again, but everyone had an alibi. Of course, considering how many people detested Junior, there was always the chance that someone with a hidden motive might have taken the opportunity to slit the semiconscious man’s throat. Reed had ruled out his mother and his sister. Even though both of them had had motive and opportunity, neither would have let him go to prison. But Regina seemed to recall only bits and pieces of that horrible night. Was it possible that she’d taken Reed’s knife, killed her attacker, and then couldn’t remember what she’d done? If Regina were the killer, Reed knew he’d go to his grave keeping her secret.

  But there were more plausible suspects, people in power who could have easily used their influence to keep the law from probing deeper into the crime. First and foremost, Webb Porter came to mind. If he hadn’t killed Junior for reasons of his own, perhaps he did the deed as a service for his family. Reed suspected that Junior had tried blackmailing more than one member of the Porter and Carlisle families. There were dozens of possible scenarios. He wasn’t quite sure how to go about untangling such an intricate web of lies and secrets.

  Just as Reed walked into the six-by-six bathroom and unzipped his jeans, a loud, demanding series of knocks sounded on the outer door. Who the hell? He glanced at the old windup alarm clock he had brought from his mother’s. Eleven-thirty! Who would be beating down his door at this time of night?

  Reed zipped up his pants, crossed the room, and called out, “Hold your horses.” When he reached the door, he hollered, “Who is it?”

  “Chief Nelson. Open up, Reed. We need to talk.”

  Reed flung open the door. Frank Nelson appeared a bit frazzled, as if he’d had a bad day and the night wasn’t looking much better.

  “What could you and I possibly have to talk about?” Bracing his body by clasping either side of the door frame, Reed leaned forward and glared right at the police chief.

  “Where were you tonight, let’s say between seven and eight-thirty?”

  “Moving into this place,” Reed said. “Why? What business is it of yours?”

  “Anybody with you?” Frank asked. “You got someone who can verify where you were?”

  A sickening feeling of déjà vu seeped through Reed like a slow-acting poison. “Am I being accused of a crime?”

  “No. I’m simply checking out a few possible suspects. Anyone with a motive to want to create problems for or harm the Porter family.”

  “Ah, I see. So, naturally, mine was the first name that came to mind.” Reed grinned. Better to try for humor in this situation, he thought. Anger would definitely work against him. “So, what’s happened now? Miss Ella get another ugly letter? Another breathy phone call?”

  “Someone broke into the Porter house and ransacked the place—destroyed quite a few priceless antiques.”

  “Was Ella there? Was she hurt?” An irrational fear surfaced. And a possessive, protective attitude that Reed could not control. If anyone had harmed Ella, he’d take them apart piece by piece.

  “Ella’s fine. She came home and found the place torn apart,” Frank said. “Our guess is that the culprit left just as Ella arrived.”

  “I haven’t been anywhere near the Porter house.” Reed removed his hands from the door frame, hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, and surveyed Frank from head to toe. “There’s no way you could have any evidence to the contrary.”

  “Didn’t say I had any evidence.” Frank’s cheeks flushed beneath the heavy cluster of freckles.

  “Look, I’m getting sick and tired of every time something happens with Ella Porter, you come knocking on my door. I’m going to have to speak to my attorney about pressing harassment charges against the Spring Creek Police Department.”

  Frank took a tentative step forward, the tip of his shiny black shoes touching the threshold. “Now you listen to me, you cocky son of a bitch. I’m going to nail your ass and send you back to Donaldson if I find out that you’re the one messing with the Porter family. That is, if I get the chance. Webb Porter is liable to get ahold of you first. And whatever he does, he’ll be within his rights as a father protecting his daughter.”

  Reed glared at Frank Nelson, but said nothing. Anger boiled inside him like molten lava, threatening to overflow and annihilate everything in its path. He had butted heads with the law once before and the law had won. He might have been a hotheaded fool back then, but not any longer. In fifteen years of time served, he had learned one thing if nothing else. Patience.

  “Stay away from Ella Porter,” Chief Nelson warned before he turned and walked down the wooden stairs attached to the back side of the garage.

  Reed slammed the door and cursed aloud. Had Ella been the one who had sicced the police on him once again? Had she counted on the police chief’s threats to keep him at arm’s length?

  “Sorry, babe,” Reed said aloud. “I don’t scare off that easy.”

  Everything had gone just as planned: a break-in at the Porter home; destruction throughout several rooms; executed without a hitch only moments before Ella arrived. No doubt, she’d been frightened, perhaps even terrified. No evidence to point to anyone in particular, but Reed Conway would be the chief suspect. One more nail in the man’s coffin. One more step in his journey back to prison.

  There was far too much to lose if the truth ever came out. That could not be allowed to happen, whatever the price, and no matter who got hurt in the process. One did what one had to do to protect oneself. If loved ones were hurt, it was regrettable. But when a person had suffered the torment of the damned for so many years, it became easier and easier to feel no sympathy for others.

  After a lifetime of playing to win, there could be no compromise. All or nothing, the motto to live by. Junior Blalock had learned, the hard way, the price of going up against a superior opponent. Reed Conway would have to be taught the same lesson.

  The only case on the docket for the morning had been a sentencing hearing for a recently convicted murderess, whose trial had concluded in record time. Considering the damning evidence, Ella had had no choice but to give the woman the stiffest sentence possible.

  With part of the morning left free, Ella had been able to speak to Steve Williamson about insurance on the house, as well as get a report from Frank Nelson. Although the insurance would cover the cost of replacing the furniture and other items, no amount of money could restore the destroyed antiques. And to add insult to injury, the police had come up with a big fat goose egg as far as evidence. No fingerprints other than those of people who regularly frequented the Porter house. Nothing found inside or outside the house to indicate who the offender might be. And no one in the neighborhood had seen anyone suspicious that evening. Of course, what made matters worse, at least in Ella’s mind, was the fact that Frank had confronted Reed again. Her feminine instincts told her that it was only a matter of time before she would be forced to face Reed’s wrath. He would think she had been the one who’d instigated Frank’s visit.

  “I don’t believe Reed Conway will bother you again,” Frank had told her this morning. “He knows that by harassing y
ou, he’s putting his parole at risk.”

  But what if Reed isn’t the one harassing me? She had barely stopped herself from voicing her opinion. Neither Frank Nelson nor her father wanted to look beyond the obvious, to search for someone other than Reed as a suspect. Was this what had happened fifteen years ago? Had everyone assumed Reed was guilty and therefore closed the case without a thorough investigation?

  Maybe Reed is guilty. Maybe I’m wrong and everyone else is right. He could have killed Junior Blalock and he could be the person tormenting me.

  The telephone rang. Ella jumped. She was a nervous wreck lately, but especially after last night.

  “Judge Porter.”

  “Ella, are you all right?”

  A silent groan reverberated inside Ella’s head. “Yes, Daddy, I’m fine.”

  “I just got off the phone with Jeff Henry,” Webb said. “Why the hell didn’t someone call us last night? You just wait until I see Frank Nelson. He’s going to get a piece of my mind.”

  “Daddy, will you stop ranting and raving. Frank didn’t call you because I asked him not to. The same holds true for Uncle Jeff Henry and Aunt Cybil. You and Mother have so little time alone together. I didn’t want to disrupt your last days at the beach when there’s nothing you can do back here.”

  “Your mother and I are hardly alone. Viola is here with us.”

  Ella heard the displeasure in her father’s voice. Neither she nor her father was overly fond of Viola, but they tolerated the woman for Carolyn’s sake. Her mother depended on Viola and seemed to genuinely care for the sour-faced, unfriendly woman. And Viola was obsessively loyal to Carolyn. Sometimes Ella felt that the two women shared a symbiotic relationship, each feeding off the other.

  “I haven’t told Carolyn yet,” Webb said. “I’m going to make some excuse for coming home early and then I’ll tell her the truth right before we get there.” He huffed loudly. “I knew leaving you there alone with that man on the loose was a bad idea.”

  “That man? I assume you mean Reed Conway.”

  “Who else?”

  “There is no evidence that Reed was the person who broke into the house and ransacked it.”

  “I don’t need any evidence to know he did it.”

  “Just the way you didn’t need any evidence to convict him of killing his stepfather?”

  Ella wished the words back the moment they were out of her mouth, but it was too late. A painful silence interrupted the conversation. She could hear her father’s deep, agitated breathing.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy,” Ella said.

  “Why are you defending that man?”

  “I’m not defending him. I’m merely stating that there is no evidence to indicate he’s done anything illegal since he was paroled several weeks ago.”

  “I want you to stay away from him. Do you hear me?”

  “Believe me, if I never see Reed Conway again, it will suit me just fine.”

  Webb walked along the crowded beach, but paid no attention to anyone, not even the bathing beauties who usually caught his eye. He had to come up with a plausible reason for their leaving the Gulf a day early. He would use business—government business—as an excuse. Carolyn never questioned his excuses, no matter how feeble they might be. She tolerated a great deal from him, more than most women would endure. Her life couldn’t be easy, paralyzed as she was. And being married to a man who didn’t love her should have added to her unhappiness, but she didn’t seem to mind so much. What mattered to Carolyn was that she remain his wife.

  “I intend to be Mrs. Webb Porter as long as I live,” she’d told him. “You would never divorce me, would you? Not with me in this condition? Please, Webb, promise me that you’ll never leave me.”

  She’d been right. He would never leave her. How could he? Thirty years ago he had given her the promise she’d asked for, and in return she had agreed to adopt a child. Their marriage had become a series of compromises. Not what he wanted, but the price he had to pay. For Ella. For his political career. To ease his guilty conscience.

  He didn’t feel especially guilty about the other women, but he did still blame himself for the accident that had crippled Carolyn. They had been arguing. He’d asked her for a divorce. She’d gone berserk and told him that she would never give him a divorce.

  She’d cursed him, saying, “If you think I’ll give you up, then think again, you son of a bitch. You’re my husband and you’re going to stay my husband. How could you even think of leaving me for that whore?”

  That was when he’d realized that Carolyn knew about his relationship with Judy Conway. He hadn’t meant to fall in love with Judy. But Judy was everything that he had sadly discovered his wife was not. When he’d married Carolyn, he’d been deceived by her beauty and her genteel manners. She hadn’t allowed him to touch her until their wedding night, which had, for him, been a disaster. His bride hadn’t liked sex. She had endured it. He’d soon found that his genteel wife was not only cold in the bedroom, but was a bitch to anyone she considered a subordinate. He had tried to make the marriage work, but after two miserable years, he had asked for a divorce.

  Fate had stepped in and dealt him an almost lethal blow. After Carolyn’s accident, he had ended his love affair with Judy. Guilt ate away at him for years, and he’d tried his best to be a faithful husband. But he hadn’t been able to get Judy out of his mind or out of his heart. They had come together again, years later, for one unforgettable night. Junior Blalock had known about that night and about the child Judy had conceived. If Junior had ever told Carolyn that Webb had fathered Regina Conway, only God knew what Carolyn would have done—not only to him, but to Judy. And to little Regina, the child he had never been able to claim. He supposed there was a special place in hell for men like him—men who fathered illegitimate children and never acknowledged them.

  Webb suspected that the intense hatred that now existed between Reed Conway and him had actually begun all those years ago. Even as a small boy, Reed had seemed to sense that Webb was bad news for his mother. And as the years went by, Judy’s son became her zealous protector. Did Reed know the truth about Regina’s paternity? Was that one of the reasons that, as a teenager, he had bristled every time he’d come into contact with Webb?

  Webb had questioned his own motives when he had prosecuted Reed for Junior’s murder. He’d known that by not stepping down, not turning the case over to the assistant district attorney, he would sever all ties to Judy. She hadn’t been able to forgive him. But that had been what he’d wanted, hadn’t it? Losing Judy forever had been his punishment and, oddly enough, his atonement.

  But did Reed think Webb hadn’t suffered enough? Was Judy’s son intent on hurting the person Webb loved most in the world—his daughter Ella?

  Webb knew that he had to do whatever was necessary to protect those he loved, just as he’d always done. Even if that meant protecting them from himself.

  “Miss Ella?” Roy Moses eased open the door to her office. As always, he offered her a warm smile. “I got your lunch. A small barbeque sandwich, a little bag of chips, and a diet Dr Pepper. I got your order right, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, Roy, thank you.” Ella exchanged the sack lunch for the cost of the meal, plus a generous tip. “By eating here in my office, I can relax for a while.”

  “I heard about what happened at your house,” Roy said, his smile wavering. “Who would do something so mean?”

  “I don’t know, but I hope the police catch him.”

  “It wasn’t Reed,” Roy told her. “Reed ain’t a bad man. Not like people think he is.”

  Ella set the paper lunch sack on her desk. “No one is accusing Reed.”

  “Reed’s my friend.” Roy’s smile returned, broader than before, showing off uneven rows of crooked, yellow teeth. “Me and him are fixing up an old Corvette over at the garage. He says I got a natural talent for mechanic work. And Reed, he don’t never fuss at me the way Briley Joe does.”

  “I’m glad you’ve found a
friend in Reed,” Ella said. She really didn’t want to discuss Reed Conway’s virtues, not even with Roy. She didn’t want to be reminded that Reed might actually be a good guy.

  “You enjoy your lunch, Miss Ella. I gotta get back to work.” Roy paused in his slow, plodding exit. “If you need me for anything, just have Kelly call down to the basement when she gets back from lunch.”

  “Yes, thank you, Roy.”

  As soon as he closed the door, Ella grabbed the sack off her desk, collapsed onto the leather sofa, kicked off her shoes, and sighed. An hour of peace and quiet…she hoped. Dealing with the police, their insurance agent, and her father all in one morning was more than enough stress. And despite the defendant’s guilt in the case before her earlier today, it hadn’t been easy sentencing a woman to life in prison.

  She felt the door open before she actually looked up and saw Reed Conway burst into her office. He slammed the door shut, almost jarring it off the hinges. Ella sat up straight, bringing her legs around so that her bare feet hit the floor. Her lunch sack scooted off her lap and onto the sofa.

  Pure rage—that’s what she saw on Reed’s face, in his eyes, in his tight jaw. Instinct told her to run. The old fight-or-flight mentality kicked in. With Reed, her best bet was flight. No way could she win in a fight with this man. Not when she would be fighting herself as well as him.

  “Why the hell do you keep siccing Frank Nelson on me?” Reed stood just inside her office, his big body a solid block positioned between her and the only escape route.

  “I didn’t…” She cleared her throat. “I did not sic Frank Nelson on you. It isn’t my fault that you’re the most likely suspect.”