"Oh, my God."
Before she knew what was happening, Susanna had fallen off the stool, but Davey Ahearn was there instantly, bracing her with a muscular, tattooed arm. "Easy, kid," he said.
"I don't usually come apart like this." But her daughters. Maggie and Ellen. Gran. Susanna placed a shaking hand on her temple, as if that somehow would help her organize a coherent thought. "Damn it. I could be wrong—I hope so. I've been living with a Texas Ranger for so long…" She looked at Davey, managing a weak, unconvincing smile. "It's because of Jack I could tell Tess about decomposing bodies."
Davey continued his iron grip on her arm. "Susanna, who is Audrey Melbourne?"
She didn't answer him, instead turning to Jim. "Do you know where she lives?"
"No," he said, "and I wouldn't tell you if I did. You'd go over there and get yourself into trouble. I can see it in your eyes. Then I'd have to call Jack and tell him." He picked up his drinks tray, straightening. "Answer Davey's question, Susanna. Who is this woman?"
"I'm not positive—really, I could be wrong. The woman I'm thinking of is blond—"
"The red's a dye job," Davey said, not letting up on his grip.
Some of the adrenaline oozed out of her, some of the tension in her muscles released. They deserved to know. This was their neighborhood, Iris was their friend. "The man I told you about who killed his wife," she said, pausing for a breath, feeling the clam chowder churning in her stomach. Davey remained at her side, steady, not interrupting for once. She tried again. "The local police officer who found her—the wife—ended up in prison for official misconduct. Witness tampering. She got out on New Year's Eve. She took off a few days later. She was obsessed with Australia, and everyone thought—"
"Melbourne," Jim said. "That's in Australia."
Davey released his grip now that Susanna was steadier on her feet. "I knew that was a phony name." He gave her a hard look. "Are you going to call Jack, or do you want to leave that to me and Jimmy?"
Meaning Jack would get called, one way or the other. "I'll call him," she said. "Just first let me make sure I'm right about this woman."
* * *
Alice knew something was wrong the minute she walked into Jim's Place. It was chowder night, and she deliberately arrived after Iris would have come and gone. Alice didn't want to draw too much attention to their friendship and tried to stagger their visits, not make it obvious the old woman was her focus.
With freezing rain forecast for the evening, the bar was relatively quiet, the television tuned to a repeat of an old Red Sox game. Davey Ahearn was staring up at it, his broad back to Alice as she eased onto a stool at the bar. Jim Haviland put a bowl of chowder in front of her even before she'd ordered it.
Definitely, something was up.
She'd never had particularly good instincts, but prison had taught her to tune in to her environment, notice the undercurrents, see trouble before it happened— not wait to get her ass kicked. She'd been trying to show her best side in Boston. She found herself wanting Iris Dunning to think well of her. It was as if she were adopting the new persona she would use in Australia—letting her real self out. That was what she used to tell herself about her parents. When they were sober and straight, that was their real selves. That was who they really were. Not perfect, but decent, interested in her.
When they were drunk or high on drugs, they weren't their real selves. Her grandma said it was the devil, but Alice didn't believe that. She could never see the devil in her mother and father, even when they were passed out in their own vomit. They weren't mean, just a couple of no-accounts.
She wasn't like them.
Her real self was pleasant, optimistic, empathetic, kind to old people and not one to hold a grudge. Sure, she was still trying her damnedest to extort fifty thousand dollars from a murderer, but she'd also learned in prison that she had to be practical, use what she had. Attainable goals. She hated to involve Iris and the Galway women in her scheme, but that just couldn't be avoided.
If she had to sit in judgment of herself—well, she'd opt for forgiveness. She'd see a woman who'd been through a lot and was just trying to get to a point where she could make a fresh start, maybe put the screws to a murderer who was otherwise getting off scot-free. That wasn't so bad.
Beau was still dragging his heels—but he'd crack. He was getting close. He asked questions about Susanna Galway. He repeated things he'd said to her in the kitchen that day, insisting he hadn't said anything bad. But he wasn't sure—he wanted to hear what was on that tape.
Every week, Alice told herself, okay, one more week. She had to stick to her guns, because it wasn't a good idea to waffle with Beau. She couldn't give up too soon or he'd wonder, and that'd make him dangerous. He'd wondered what she and Rachel were up to, wondered if they were plotting to kill him and get his money— wondered about Alice's remark about smothering him.
Boom. Next thing, Rachel was dead, and Alice's monogrammed change purse was floating in her blood.
What Beau needed was some encouragement— maybe she just needed to get on with it, break in to Iris's house, search Susanna's room and pretend she'd found the tape. Then tell Beau she was bringing it to him or the Texas Rangers, either one. Maybe the media. Something that'd rattle his cage.
She was dillydallying, she knew, because of Iris and clam chowder nights at Jim's Place, fooling herself into thinking she could start over here, in Boston, and maybe not have to go all the way to Australia. That was her greatest weakness, always looking for the easy way out. She'd fall short of her goals and say it was good enough.
Why be a Texas Ranger when she could be a small-town cop? Rachel McGarrity used to tell her to recognize that tendency and fight it. If she wanted to be a small-town cop, great—mission accomplished. If not, then go after what she wanted.
Alice hadn't touched her soup. The pat of butter had already melted. She tore open her packet of oyster crackers. She had the most awful feeling of foreboding. She tried smiling at Davey Ahearn, but he wasn't looking at her.
"I didn't want to believe it."
Alice recognized Susanna Galway's voice and felt a little like she did that day Lieutenant Galway had pulled her aside to ask her a few questions about the Rachel McGarrity investigation. A Texas Ranger, on her case. She knew it'd only be a matter of time before she was charged with official misconduct, or worse.
But this time, Alice didn't bother trying to hide what she'd done. "Mrs. Galway, please, I know this looks bad." Alice kept her voice respectful, but wondered if her cheeks were red or pale, revealing anything about how frightened and awful she felt. "I don't mean you or your family any harm."
Susanna tilted her head, her long black hair hanging down her back, her green eyes half-closed, but Alice could see she was rattled, scared. "You used a false name."
"I'm in the process of legally changing my name to Audrey Melbourne. I want a fresh start."
"Here? You didn't just happen to show up in the same neighborhood as the family of the Texas Ranger who put you in prison—"
"Lieutenant Galway didn't put me in prison," Alice said. "I put myself there through my own actions."
Jack Galway's wife inhaled sharply. She was so tall and limber—Alice felt tiny next to her. She'd always wanted to be more of an über-girl. She almost didn't make it as a police officer because of her size. People liked to tell her she was cute. She didn't have Susanna Galway's dramatic good looks.
"If you wanted a fresh start," Susanna went on tightly, "you wouldn't be here in Boston, in my neighborhood. That just doesn't wash, Miss Parker."
"I know." She spoke quietly, respectfully, aware of Jim Haviland and Davey Ahearn watching her, listening, ready to act if she did anything stupid. She had rehearsed this moment a thousand times in the past few weeks. "I came up here because I wanted to make up for any damage I'd done. I heard you'd left your husband after I got arrested—"
"That had nothing to do with you," Susanna said stonily.
Alice w
asn't so sure about that, but she nodded anyway. "I can see that now. I probably knew it even before I got here."
"But you stayed."
"Where else was I supposed to go? I'm saving for Australia. Did Iris tell you that? I like her a lot, Mrs. Galway. I'd never do anything to hurt her. I mean, if I were up here to get revenge, I've had weeks."
Susanna went slightly pale at Alice's last words.
"Please believe me," Alice said quietly, earnestly.
"It doesn't matter what I believe or don't believe."
Susanna stuffed her hands into her coat pockets, everything about her rigid, serious, determined. And scared, Alice thought. Susanna Galway wasn't one who liked admitting she was scared. "I don't want you anywhere near my grandmother or my daughters."
Alice nodded. "All right. I understand."
But her tone didn't come out quite right, and she could see that Susanna had read her words the way Alice had really meant them—defiant and in-your-face defensive. She didn't have to stay away from anybody. She was a free woman. She hadn't threatened Iris or Maggie and Ellen Galway. She hadn't stalked them. She hadn't broken the law. Her presence in Susanna's neighborhood was provocative, yes. But it wasn't illegal.
"Stay away from my family," Susanna said.
Alice didn't argue, although she couldn't imagine not seeing Iris again—at least to explain who she was, why she'd lied to her. She didn't want Iris to think badly of her. She didn't know why, but the old woman's opinion mattered to her.
Susanna swept out of the bar, and Alice looked up at Jim Haviland, feeling her eyes fill with tears. "I suppose you think I'm pretty awful."
"I think you're scaring the shit out of Susanna Galway and used an innocent old woman—"
"I'd never hurt Iris. Never. I consider her a friend."
But she could see she wasn't getting anywhere with him, and down the bar, Davey Ahearn looked ready to take her out and shove her face into a snowbank. She jumped off her stool and tossed money on the bar, next to her barely touched bowl of chowder. She mostly choked down the clams, anyway. She couldn't understand why New Englanders had clam chowder contests. It wasn't even in the same universe as a good bowl of chili.
She sniffled, knowing she wasn't eliciting an ounce of sympathy from either man. "I'm a free woman," she said. "I can come and go as I please."
"Then go," Davey Ahearn said with an edge of sarcasm. "Please."
She did, grabbing her parka but not bothering to put it on. One of them would call Jack Galway. Jim, Davey, Susanna. Jack wouldn't stand by while a woman he'd put in prison, a corrupt fellow officer of the law, slipped into the neighborhood where his wife and daughters were living. It didn't matter what was going on between him and Susanna. He'd be on the next plane out of San Antonio the minute he found out.
Alice pushed out the door into the cold night. There was a time when she'd wanted to stick it to Jack Galway for what he'd done to her, when she'd have been happy to think he was worried sick about his family because of her.
That wasn't what this was about, she told herself. Revenge was pointless. This was about money for Australia and her new beginning.
Not that it'd make any difference to Jack Galway, Texas Ranger, but it did to her. She had a higher purpose in mind.
If he was about to find out she was up here with his wife and daughters, Alice couldn't fool herself. There were no two ways about it. The squeeze was on, and she was running out of time.
♥ Uploaded by Coral ♥
Six
On the drive to the San Antonio airport, Sam Temple tried to talk Jack into calling Susanna and telling her he was on his way. "She's the crack of dawn type," Sam said. "She'll be up."
Jack shook his head. "I'm not arguing with her."
They were in Sam's slick car, the beautiful early morning doing nothing to improve either man's mood. "You don't argue," Sam said. "You say, 'Suze, babe, I'm coming to Boston whether you like it or not.'"
"That'd work," Jack said dryly.
"I'm not talking about going Neanderthal on her." Sam was driving fast, as alert at six o'clock in the morning as any other time of the day or night. Nothing seemed to affect him. "Women don't like men popping up out of nowhere."
"Susanna's my wife. I've known her since she was a skinny college kid with a calculator brain."
Sam grinned at him. He was dressed for work, wearing a suit and the white cowboy hat that was customary among Texas Rangers. His Oakley sunglasses were not. "It wasn't her calculator brain that caught your attention."
Jack said nothing. He'd been thinking about his wife since he'd checked his voice mail an hour ago and got her message. It had taken him exactly fifteen minutes to book a flight to Boston, call Sam and pack his bag. He'd been up early for his run, which meant he could catch one of the first flights out of town and be in Massachusetts before it would occur to Susanna that she'd pushed the wrong buttons with him and he might just be on his way.
She knew what she was doing last night when she'd left that message. Susanna always knew what she was doing.
"Jack? I thought I'd catch you." That was bullshit. She'd deliberately called his cell phone number because she knew it was midnight and he was home in bed, next to their home phone. "I wanted to let you know that Alice Parker has turned up in Boston. Well, in Somerville. She and Gran have become pretty good friends over the past few weeks, which is unnerving, I know, but I spoke to her tonight—Alice, I mean."
This last comment had gone right up his spine, because it meant Susanna had jumped in and confronted Alice Parker without first calling him and asking his advice on how to handle her. Or, more specifically, on what in hell not to do.
"She's changed her name to Audrey Melbourne. She assured me she means us no harm. She came up here to make amends and basically ended up sticking around longer than she meant to. The situation's under control. I'm just telling you because I know you were concerned about her. If you have any questions, call me. Bye."
If he had any questions. Hell, he had no questions at all. He knew what he was going to do—fly to Boston and throttle his wife. Then he'd see about Alice Parker, aka Audrey Melbourne.
"You're going unarmed?" Sam asked.
Jack nodded. He wasn't on official business. This was strictly personal. He had to follow Massachusetts gun laws just like anyone else. He wasn't a law enforcement officer anywhere but Texas.
"Not me," Sam said. "I'd go armed to the teeth."
"And you'd be fired."
They arrived at the airport. Jack got his bag from the back seat and started out, but Sam tried one more time. "You want me to call her?"
"Sure. You call her."
Sam grinned. "She can't hurt me over the phone." But he added in a more serious tone, "I'll keep an eye on things down here, maybe take a ride out and see what Beau McGarrity's been up to."
"Thanks."
"Alice Parker isn't in your wife's neighborhood to make amends or any damn thing. You know that, don't you, Jack?" Sam gripped the wheel with both hands. "She thinks it's your fault Beau's still a free man. Susanna has a point—if Alice planned to hurt any of them, she'd have done it by now. She's got something else up her sleeve."
Jack agreed. Alice had careened into committing a felony and landing herself in prison for a year—he could see her careening into revenge, getting in over her head again, with the law, or, even worse, with Beau McGarrity. She'd risked everything to nail McGarrity for murder and lost. What was to stop her from trying again? "I should have bought her a damn ticket to Australia the day she was at my house. If I hit on anything up north— anything at all—I'll notify the local police and bring her in. Keep me posted on what's going on down here."
"Will do."
Jack climbed out and shut the door. His stomach tightened at the thought of seeing Susanna again. None of the intensity of his feelings for her had lessened in twenty years, whether he was loving her or so mad at her he couldn't see straight—like now.
"Hey, Lieutenant."
Sam Temple had gotten out of his car and was looking out over the roof. Jack could feel the warm morning sun on his back. "What is it?"
Sam grinned. "They have telephones on planes nowadays. You can still call her."
* * *
Susanna treated herself to professionally brewed coffee and a fresh almond biscotti at Fanueil Hall Marketplace. It was the sort of mid-February day that made Bostonians rhapsodic—highs in the forties, bright sun, melting snow. Even the potholes forming in the streets didn't sour their mood. As far as they were concerned, there was a whiff of spring in the air. But Susanna had lived in south Texas too long to consider forty-four degrees spring, especially when she knew it wouldn't last. There was already talk of more snow that weekend, but not before she and the girls were on their way to the mountains. Gran was leaning toward joining them. The revelation that her new friend was an ex-convict Su-sanna's husband had put in prison didn't sit well with her.
"I feel like an old fool," she'd told Susanna the previous night.
"Don't, Gran. Alice has been here for weeks, and none of us had any idea. Come up to the mountains with us. The change of scenery will do us all some good."
Iris admitted it probably would, but her ambivalence about the trip surprised Susanna. She was beginning to wonder if there was more to Gran's past on Blackwater Lake than she'd ever let on. Going back was obviously harder for her than Susanna had anticipated, not the adventure she'd wanted it to be.
She'd sell the cabin and never set foot near Blackwater Lake again if that was what Gran wanted.
Maggie and Ellen had taken the news about Alice in stride, much more so than Susanna had. They had grown up with a Texas Ranger as their father and were determined not to overreact now that his work had spilled over into their lives.
When they found out their mother had left him a message on his voice mail, they saw right through her. Maggie had grinned. "Gee, Mom, why don't you just poke him with a sharp stick?"
Ellen was appalled. "I don't know, Mom, you might have really stepped in it this time. You haven't seen Dad in a while. You don't know what he's like these days."
The Cabin Page 7