“Hon, what are you doing?” His curious tone bordered on the accusatory.
It was hard not to look at the closet doors, but she managed. “I…” She glanced at the box sitting out on the desk. “I couldn’t sleep. So I came in here because…” Her first thought was to make up some benign reason and hope he didn’t see the box. She didn’t like rocking the boat, especially with Ben who could make her feel so guilty and selfish. “I have never felt as though I really know you. I want to know you better so I did some snooping and found this.” She pulled the box closer and flipped open the lid.
He didn’t look the least bit disturbed that she’d been snooping in his personal papers. “Katie, all you had to do was ask. I don’t like talking about my past, you know that. But if there was something you want to know….” He walked close to take her hands in his, but she pulled out the birth certificate.
“Why is the date wrong?” She pulled out the diploma. “And on these?”
“They’re my father’s.”
She blinked at the simplicity of his answer. He hadn’t given it a thought, hadn’t even looked at the papers in her hand. “Your father’s?”
“The man who kindly donated sperm to create me and then left my mother to try to raise me alone.”
“You said you didn’t know your father.”
“I did, just not personally. When he died, I took these papers because…” He looked away, and his voice got thick. “I wanted something of my father. Something to say who I was.” When she could find nothing to say in return, he took the papers and returned them to the box. “Just ask me next time, Katie. I’d be glad to show you or tell you anything. I have nothing to hide from you.”
“I’m sorry,” she found herself saying. Then she realized he intended to return the box to the closet.
“I’ll put it back,” she said, taking the box. “I’m the one who took it out.” She opened the right side of the closet and leaned into the shadows of the left side to set the box on the shelf. Silas was inches away. He was the man she wanted to know more about. His secrets, his demons, and his dreams. She wanted it all, no matter how dark.
She pulled herself from the closet and closed the door. “Let’s go to bed,” she said, turning off the lamp.
The room was plunged into darkness. Only a thread of light from the kitchen trailed in. Ben was looking at the closet. She paused by the door, her heart lodged firmly in her throat. “Ben?”
He led her out of the room, and she closed the door. “Katie, you’re the one I don’t know anymore. I have given you everything a man can give a woman…well, almost everything. Most importantly, I’ve given you love when no one else would. Since your birthday, you’ve been acting strange. And now that Silas is back in town, it’s gotten even worse. I want my old Katie back.”
“The old Katie never had to kill something. The old Katie didn’t know her husband was capable of poisoning another creature, no matter how pesky.”
She wished she had the guts to sleep on the couch. Even if she had, that left Ben to possibly go back into the office and see what she’d found in the box.
“I did it for you,” he said, no remorse on his face.
“Don’t ever kill anything for me again. And stop saying you did it for me.”
CHAPTER 15
Katie took a bite of her meatloaf, the lunch special at the diner. Her portion had been significantly smaller than Ben’s, but she wasn’t very hungry anyway. They sat at one of the booths by the front window. Dinah’s place was as busy as always, though most people were still talking about the two girls. They’d raked over every inch of Flatlands to no avail. Just like the other girls, they’d simply vanished. Everyone wore yellow ribbons for their safe return—everyone but Katie, who’d never gotten one.
Sam Savino and his wife sat in a booth nearby. He wasn’t wearing a ribbon, either. Those dark eyes were on her, making her feel self-conscious.
“Every time I see that man, he’s giving me strange looks,” Katie said.
Instead of refuting that, Ben said, “No, he’s looking at me. I don’t know why, but he hates me.”
But those hard eyes were looking right at her.
“Come with me this weekend,” Ben said. “On my farm calls.”
He must really be feeling insecure. He hadn’t even mentioned her snooping through his things, and now he was inviting her along. Last week guilt would have made her accept. Nothing inside her was strong enough to want to patch things up now. What she wanted was some time alone to sort out her feelings.
“Thanks for asking, but I’ve got some things I want to get done this weekend.”
“I’ll help you with them next weekend.”
“I appreciate that, Ben, but I’d really planned to get them done this weekend. And besides, I wouldn’t feel comfortable staying at someone’s house that I don’t know.” Ben’s customers usually put him up on his weekend trips.
“What about the killer who’s on the loose? I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“I’ll be fine. He’s probably long gone by now. He only strikes one town before moving on.” But it was someone she knew.
“But Silas is still here.”
Katie set down her fork. “There’s no proof he’s the one doing all this. It’s just easy and convenient to pin it on him.”
Ben’s voice rose loud enough for anyone in the vicinity to hear him. “Why do you insist on defending Silas? He’s done nothing to deserve anyone’s loyalty. He didn’t respond to the town’s pleas to buy his property, not even the courtesy of a return call. He comes back to town after eighteen years and won’t tell anyone why. He’s got pictures and notes about young women being murdered—”
“He writes true crime books.”
Ben shook his head, disappointment dripping from his voice and expression. “Still defending him. Are you that stupid, Katie? A man that interested in murder is as warped as the killers he writes about. After everything I’ve done for you, how can you take his side?”
The people at the surrounding tables all stared at her with cold looks. She turned back to Ben and lowered her voice. “I’m not taking his side. I just don’t like how everyone’s judging him.”
He only looked at her with that deadened expression. When neither had touched their food for several minutes, Maybel, their waitress, asked if they needed anything else. Asked Ben, not Katie.
He put his friendly face back on. “We’re just fine and dandy, Maybel. No dessert for either of us.”
“You hear about Grover Thompson?”
Again Maybel only addressed Ben, as though Katie weren’t even there. “No, what happened?”
“He’s gone. Just like the girls, disappeared into thin air. He took some slop out to the pigs and that was that. The bucket was found just outside the pig barn; he’d never even gotten to the pigs.”
“Do they think it’s the guy who took the girls?”
“I asked the sheriff that, but he said probably not. Those serial type killers don’t usually swing both ways. M.O.’s different. Thelma’s sure it’s aliens that got him.”
“I’ve heard them talk about the UFO’s out there. I’ve taken care of Grover’s animals for years. I’m going to have to pay Mrs. Thompson a visit and see if there’s anything I can do. Damn shame, it is. Hopefully he’s just trying to put the scare into her for some reason.”
Then he pulled himself out of the booth and walked to the counter. Dinah walked right over and they exchanged a few words. Though Katie couldn’t see Ben’s face, she could see Dinah’s. It was venomous. Compassion filled her expression when she turned back to Ben and patted his arm.
Maybel brought the bill over. Katie held out her hand, but Maybel flung it and made Katie crawl under the table where it had landed.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Maybel said with enough sincerity to make Katie wonder. “So, when are you gonna give the doc babies? Ya’ll have been married forever. Ain’t right, not having babies by now. It’s the least a woman can
do for her man, you know. He’d make a great father.”
Katie was so stunned by the personal question she couldn’t answer at first. How strange, too, that she’d asked after Ben’s offer. She cleared her throat and said, “We’ve decided to wait a little longer.”
“Uh huh,” Maybel said before turning away.
Ben returned, his face neutral as ever. He threw a generous tip on the table and picked up the bill. “Ready?”
Katie slid out of the booth and wondered again if she were losing her mind or taking things too personally. She followed Ben to the front register, where Dinah processed their bill.
“You hear about the fire?” she asked Ben, pointedly ignoring Katie. “Started last night at the north edge of the Oconee Forest. Already burned a hundred acres.”
“Heard it on the radio. Damn shame,” Ben said, shaking his head. “I’m glad it’s not where I’m taking my farm calls this weekend.” He turned to Katie. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” He nodded his thanks to Dinah and led the way out. Several people nearby waved to Ben as he walked past.
“I…” She wanted to draw out the answer until they got outside, but he paused at the glass door and waited for her to finish. Very polite of him. Two weeks ago she would have given in. This time she said, “I’m sure.”
Thelma Johnson had been canning since Grover disappeared night before last. The cousins had helped as much as they could, what with having their own farms to tend to. Her own son couldn’t be bothered to come back from college and help his mother. He had some important job for the summer, more important than farming or his family apparently. He was sure Grover had just run off for a few days.
She hauled the bucket of peelings to the pig pit, keeping her eye on the sky above. It wasn’t quite as dark as it had been when Grover had taken this same path. The sun was barely up. She was going to be careful, anyway. The aliens wouldn’t get her, too.
She’d seen the lights over the last few years, just like Grover had. Folks made fun of them when they talked about aliens flying overhead. Not a one believed them. The durned police wouldn’t hear of it, either, but how else could one explain a whole person disappearing without a trace?
Some folks said it might be the killer who was taking the women in the area. Even the sheriff who came to take her statement thought that was unlikely. He had asked about the state of their marriage, with apologies. Thelma had wondered about that too, but only for a moment. Grover wasn’t the sort of man who’d stage something like this. Why, he knew where the door was. Besides, this farm had been in his family for three generations. No way would he walk away from it. Even the sheriff had agreed. She’d even heard someone say it was the pigs that got him.
Thelma laughed aloud as she neared the pit. Aliens it could be. But pigs? That was silly.
She switched on the lights and hauled the bucket to the troughs. Their big, beautiful pigs converged on her. She lost her balance for a moment and grabbed onto the side of the trough. The pigs dumped over the bucket she’d dropped and snorted through the peelings.
Something shiny caught her eye on the ground between the troughs. She angled her hand down into the muck to reach it. Maybe the aliens left it behind. Maybe it was proof-positive that Grover was way up there in the skies above.
It was long and hard and covered in mud. She left the pigs to ravage the bucket and walked over to the spigot. In the dim light she saw that it was pale, and that the glitter that had caught her eye only adorned one part of it. She walked over to the light—and screamed.
The finger dropped back to the ground and sunk into the muck.
Ben said little as Katie got up early, fixed his breakfast, and sent him off to the country. Not even a thank you. Then again, fixing breakfast, keeping the house clean, all of the household tasks fell within her responsibility. Even though she worked as many hours as he did at the hospital, she felt obligated to handle the house, too.
As resentment rushed to the surface, she realized it had been there for a long time, carefully covered in a layer of gratitude. She’d long assumed that since she wasn’t attractive or lovable, she had to make up for it by being complacent. Earning her keep.
She’d been brutally honest two nights ago with Silas when she’d admitted she hadn’t been good and pure for a long time. That’s when he’d kissed her. Whenever she thought about that kiss, she involuntarily pressed her fingertips to her mouth.
Silas hadn’t asked for anything. He hadn’t offered much, either. Today he was going to give her something—the truth. All of it.
She pulled out the dress Ben had bought for her in Atlanta. It was as ugly as anything else he’d ever bought her. Still, she’d have to wear it once in a while or he’d mention it in his hurt way. She hung it in the back of the closet, where she found the other outfit Bertrice had brought over: purple jeans and a top with peace signs emblazoned in a colorful print.
She felt the same way she had when she’d put the other outfit on: liberated and a touch sexy. She stood in front of the dresser mirror and tried to see herself through Silas’s eyes. That was impossible, of course. She wasn’t beautiful, but when Silas looked at her, she felt beautiful.
She pulled the gold cross out of the jewelry box and put it on. It looked right there, a symbol of her mother. She wouldn’t hide it from Ben any longer.
Her hair, washed that morning, hung limply over her shoulders. When she’d lived with the Emersons, they’d kept her hair short for easy maintenance. Since marrying Ben, he’d insisted she keep it past her shoulders. She wanted something different. Her heart thrummed as she took the scissors from the sewing kit and held them poised over a hank of hair. Ben would be disappointed. She could well imagine the look on his face.
Four inches of brown hair rained into the sink. She trimmed the rest as evenly as she could and finger-curled the ends under. Although only a few ounces of hair were gone, it felt as though a hundred pounds had lifted off her. She picked up the picture of her and her mother and compared her laughing image there to the one in the mirror. She was getting closer to that Katie. All she needed was a reason to laugh so unabashedly.
Only after she’d curled her hair did she discover her birthmark now showed clearly. Ben would hate that. She traced her finger around the edge of the fist-sized stain and wondered if Silas would hate it, too. She had no make up, not even foundation. Something else Ben hated.
“You’re not going to kiss him again, Katie,” she told her reflection. “It’s not right. You have to decide what you’re going to do with your life.” Her throat went tight at the prospect of doing anything. What could she do? Leave Ben? And go where? The same vicious cycle.
What about Silas?
“He’s just trying to protect me. Doesn’t that sound familiar? Maybe that’s all he wants, is to be my hero. Look what that got me last time.”
Something in Silas’s eyes said he wanted to possess her , too. The thought of him possessing her stirred her in a way Ben had never stirred her.
She slung an old backpack over her shoulder. The gun was inside; she was beginning to feel like a gun-toting individual, though it still wasn’t loaded. As she headed out the door, she wished she still had Goldie to keep her company on the walk. It saddened her that Ben wouldn’t even share her with a pet.
Her hand stilled on the doorknob. He didn’t want to share her. Is that what it was about? He often told her she belonged to him, words that had once been endearing and were now cloying. In every way she could think of, he kept her to himself. Not intentionally. He’d already lived out here when she married him, already had the veterinary hospital that wasn’t close to much. The first time she’d mentioned having a baby, though, his first response was I’m not ready to share you yet.
Which meant his offer to try to have a baby with her was out of sheer desperation.
She locked the door behind her. As she descended the steps, she heard a vehicle coming down the drive. Her whole body reacted when Harold’s old truck came
into view. The back was crammed with junk as usual.
Her instinct was to run inside the house, but he was already out of the truck before she could react. Her fingers tightened around the square post in front as he approached with an amiable expression on his face.
“Katie, how are you doing this morning?”
“Fine. Thank you,” she had to add. “What can I do for you?”
He glanced toward the house. “Is Ben around? He asked me awhile back if I ever run across paintings. Says you have a couple of blank walls he’d like to do something with. I got a couple I picked up yesterday that might fit the bill.” He walked back to the truck and pulled out two large oil paintings. Both were nature scenes done in garish colors.
“He’s…not here right now. Why don’t you come back later? Or better yet, I’ll have him stop by your place and take a look at them.”
He was already at the bottom step with a painting in each large hand. “Well, since I’m here, why don’t we go inside and see if they look good? That’s the best way to tell, don’t you think?” He started up the steps.
“Look, I was on my way out, so if this can wait…”
He glanced around at the absence of the van. “Need a ride somewhere?”
“No, I’m walking, but thank you anyway. I’ve got to get going—”
Harold took the remaining step toward the front door. “Look, I brought these out here for you, so let’s see how they look, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
No way was she going in that house with him. “I’m late—”
He tried the doorknob, finding it locked. When he took in her surprised look, he said, “What the hell is wrong with you, anyway? Ain’t I good enough to be inside your house? Is that it?” He walked closer.
“No, it’s not that, it’s just that—”
He threw the paintings down. “That sure is it, isn’t it? You’re a regular snob is what you are. Don’t have a nice word to say to me ever, don’t thank me for giving you rides, and don’t show any appreciation at all for driving all the way out here to show you my paintings. You think you’re too good to talk to me. Well let me tell you something: you aren’t.”
Unforgivable (Romantic Suspense) Page 21