A Touch of the Beast

by Linda Winstead Jones

  The old woman in the pharmacy hadn’t been crazy after all. Finding this woman who looked so much like Cassie…it couldn’t be a coincidence.

  He very hesitantly touched his fingertip to the photo. He’d wondered for so many years what his biological parents had been like, and why they’d given him and Cassie up…and then he’d stopped wondering because it didn’t make any sense to make himself crazy with all the questions he would never know the answers to. In anger, he had sworn to himself and to anyone else who asked that he didn’t care.

  It was a lie. He knew that now.

  With the photo in hand, he moved across the room and sat beside Sheryl. He settled in and stretched his long legs out beside hers.

  “I’m here to work, mister,” she said when he put his arm around her. “Stop trying to distract me.”

  He held the photo near her thigh so they could both see it well. “See that woman on the right?”

  “The pretty one?”

  He nodded. “The pretty one. Sheryl, that’s my mother.”

  She had to practically drag Hawk to bed. He carried the photo with him and placed it on the bedside table before crawling under the covers to lie beside her.

  “I wonder if anyone around here knows her,” he asked, wrapping his arms around her and holding on nice and tight.

  “Maybe. You can show a few of the old-timers the photograph and see if they remember anything.”

  Hawk settled his body against hers and answered with a hum. After a minute he said, “What if she still lives around here? What if I show someone the picture, and they say, ‘Oh, yeah, that’s Jane Doe and she lives right around the corner.’”

  “Is that what you want?” she whispered.

  After a short pause Hawk answered. “I don’t know what I want. Answers for Cassie, sure, but beyond that…I honestly don’t know.”

  He held her, but neither of them made a move toward anything more. She almost wished he would make a move. That he would kiss her or touch her in a way that made her forget. But he didn’t, and neither did she. Sex was easy, compared to midnight conversations about matters of the heart.

  “The people who adopted you,” she asked, “were they good parents?”

  “The best,” he answered without hesitation.

  “That’s good.” She shifted her body against the mattress and the pillow and Hawk’s body until everything was just so.

  “What about your family?” Hawk asked. “You’ve never mentioned them.”

  She smiled in the dark. No, they had swept past the normal part of their courtship and sailed right into the thick of it. “Mother, father, two brothers and a sister. I’m the youngest.”

  “Of course you are,” Hawk teased. “You were spoiled rotten, weren’t you?”

  “Of course not.” There had been a time, before she’d set herself on a career path, before Michael, that she had been a little spoiled. “We’re spread all over the country now. Mom and Dad in Virginia, Patrick in Minnesota, Sean in Colorado, and Lisa in Tennessee.”

  “Halfway,” he said.

  “Halfway to what?”

  “Tennessee is halfway between Texas and here. Do you ever visit your sister?”

  “Not very often. It’s tough to get away, especially now.”

  Hawk asked about Tennessee as if he really thought they’d get together after his time in Wyatt was done. And deep down, in a place she tried to hide, Sheryl wanted that to be so. She wanted it more than anything. But who was she kidding? A long-distance relationship would never work. She had her practice; Hawk had his ranch. They were busy people who barely had a moment to themselves. Neither of them had the time to take days off to pursue a relationship.

  Whatever they had would die from neglect once they were separated. And knowing that wasn’t a problem for Sheryl. All she and Hawk had was sex, anyway. Nothing more.

  Then why were they talking about family in the dark?

  “You should get some sleep,” she said.

  “How can I possibly sleep?”

  Sheryl raised herself up and looked down at Hawk. She wanted to make everything right for him. She wanted to make sure he ate well, buy him a few new shirts and see that he got enough rest. She wanted all the things that would make this more than sex.

  She touched her fingertips to a strand of dark hair that had fallen across Hawk’s forehead. “You’ll sleep because tomorrow is going to be another busy day, and you can’t function without at least a few hours of rest. If you go around town looking like a crazed man who hasn’t slept in days, then who in their right mind is going to talk to you about your mother? You can’t do anything else tonight. So sleep.”

  Hawk almost had what he’d come here for—and that meant he’d soon be gone. As much as she wanted more, Sheryl knew deep down that Tennessee would never happen.

  Hawk walked along the square, the picture tucked neatly into his shirt pocket.

  He hadn’t called Cassie last night to share the news. When he’d found the photo, it had been much too late to call. He’d planned to telephone her first thing this morning, but with his fingers on the call button of his cell he’d hesitated. Maybe if he waited a few hours, he could give his sister more than the news that he’d found an old picture of a woman who looked just like her. He could give her a name, maybe even an address.

  He’d started the day with high hopes, but so far he hadn’t had any luck. Sheryl was at the clinic and would be until noon. If he wasn’t there by that time, she’d meet him in the square and help him talk to the local residents. After all, talking to people wasn’t his thing. He wasn’t any better at talking than he was at dancing.

  Sheryl was a big part of this, like it or not. He’d tried to push her away, more than once. But somehow she kept creeping back into his life, this woman he hadn’t known a full week.

  Baby walked beside him, interested in what was going on around her but almost nonchalant about the proceedings. She stayed close, but at least she wasn’t as skittish as she had once been. When he’d first found the wounded pup on the road to town, he’d been angry at the way she’d been abused. Now if he could get his hands on the man who had hurt her, he’d very likely kill him. Baby had the heart of a lion and the disposition of a playful puppy, even though her puppy years were behind her. If not for that man, long ago, she never would’ve known that there was hate and pain in the world. Hawk did his best to make sure she could forget.

  Man’s best friend. In his case that was the truth. He was more comfortable with Baby than he’d ever been with any human being. She understood him, and he understood her. Until he’d met Sheryl, that fact had never bothered him. Here he was, falling into a relationship, and he had no idea what to say, what to do, how to handle what came next.

  If anything came next.

  So far it had been a frustrating morning. He hadn’t run into anyone who recognized the woman or anyone else from the old photograph. He’d only asked a few people, those he knew were longtime residents. There were lots of folks from outside the area here today, perusing the selection of homemade wooden toys and dolls and pottery and Christmas ornaments. Where could he find the answers he was looking for?

  Baby picked up on Hawk’s frustration and nuzzled his leg, offering comfort. Hawk ruffled the fur behind Baby’s ears and told her not to worry. He’d do enough worrying for both of them.

  Everything about downtown Wyatt looked different today, and it wasn’t because the normally quiet square was filled with people and booths and laughter. His mother had lived here. For a short while this morning a small, helplessly optimistic part of Hawk had wondered if maybe she still did. That optimism hadn’t lasted long, though.

  “Hi, there, young fella.” Harold Johnston, Sheryl’s client who owned the calico cat, gave Hawk a big smile. The old man sat beside Mildred Harris, Toby’s owner, at her booth. Mildred had a collection of crocheted doodads for sale. Doilies, pot holders, store-bought towels with crocheted decorations on the ends and more Christmas ornaments, th
ese in the shape of snowflakes.

  Hawk pulled the photo from his pocket and passed it to Harold. “The girl on the right, do you recognize her?”

  The old man wrinkled his nose. “She does look a mite familiar, but I can’t quite place her.”

  After the first few inquiries had led him nowhere, Hawk had given up hope that someone would direct him to a house down the street. Whoever his mother was, wherever she was, she no longer resided in Wyatt, North Carolina.

  Harold passed the photo to Mildred, who lifted the reading glasses that hung around her neck to get a good look at the photograph. Hawk was prepared for another shake of the head but Mildred gave an interested hum instead.

  “I remember her,” Mrs. Harris said softly. “Let’s see, it was… Oh, goodness. Years ago. She joined the ladies club, but didn’t remain a member long. As I recall, her husband didn’t approve.”

  “You remember her?” Hawk repeated slowly, in case he had misunderstood. “Do you know her name?”

  Again, Mildred thought for a moment. “Donna… No, that wasn’t it. Deanna,” she said brightly. “Her name was Deanna Payne.” She shook her head slowly, and her voice was not very lively when she said, “Poor girl.”

  Deanna Payne. Hawk clenched his fists and tried to slow the suddenly quick beating of his heart. His mother had a name. She had been here, and someone remembered her. “Why ‘poor girl’?” he asked in a calm, steady voice. “What happened to her?”

  Mildred passed the photo across the table. “So much tragedy for such a young thing. Let’s see… I’ll remember the details better if I start at the beginning, I suppose. While Deanna was still a member of the ladies club she got pregnant, I remember.”

  Hawk’s heart thudded. “Twenty-eight, twenty-nine years ago?”

  “No,” the old woman mused. “Annette Mailer was president of the ladies club when Deanna joined and then left us, and Annette passed away thirty years ago, so it had to be maybe thirty-two years ago. I remember the young woman was so excited about her pregnancy. I did think she’d be a good mother. It was so sad….” Mildred’s voice trailed off as her attention was diverted. She lifted her hand and waved to a friend across the square. “Oh, there’s Mary Tinker. Last I heard she was sick in bed. She looks very well, all things considered.”

  Hawk wanted to grab the old woman and make her finish her agonizingly slow tale. He purposely moved between her and the woman across the square. “What was so sad?”

  Mildred looked up at Hawk. In the sunshine, every line on her face was starkly revealed. Her lips were thin, her color not so good. But her eyes had a youthful gleam, even as she relived past events that were, in her own words, sad.

  “Shortly after Deanna quit the club, she and her husband moved out of town.” Mildred pursed her lips. “I never liked Benedict Payne. He was much too controlling and rather sour. Even when he smiled, you would get the feeling that he wasn’t smiling on the inside but was putting on a show. There was something about him I just didn’t like. And I wasn’t alone. Several of the ladies commented that he was, well, odd. Deanna was such a sweet, pretty young girl, I couldn’t see— Poor girl.”

  Again with the “poor girl.” “What happened to her?” Hawk snapped.

  Mildred’s eyes widened slightly, and she almost backed away from him, either offended or frightened, or both. “The Paynes moved into an old farmhouse closer to Henrietta than Wyatt, and I didn’t see her after that. I asked about the baby, a few months after they moved, but Dr. Payne said his wife had lost the child and was quite distraught. I asked if I and a few of the other ladies could pay her a visit, but he said the loss of her baby had been very hard on Deanna, and she was no longer mentally stable. He told me he’d hired a full-time nurse to care for her and was afraid he might have to put her in a facility.” She whispered the last two words, as if they were poison.

  “Dr. Payne,” Hawk said. “Her husband was a doctor?”

  “Well, not a real doctor,” Mildred answered. “He worked at a clinic or some such.”

  “A fertility clinic?” Agnes Payne. That name had come up time and again. Was Benedict Payne a relative? Likely.

  “Yes. It closed up after…”

  “After what?” Hawk asked when Mildred stumbled.

  A soft breeze ruffled Mildred’s iron curls. But not much. They had been teased and sprayed into submission. “Well, I don’t know all the details, but a few years after they moved away from Wyatt that nasty Dr. Payne killed his wife.” She shook her head. “I always knew he was no good.”

  Hawk’s heart nearly stopped. His knees went weak. “Deanna Payne was murdered?”

  “Yes.”

  “I remember that now,” Harold said with a shake of one bony finger. “The clinic where the doctor had been working closed up within a matter of days. One day they were operating as usual, the next they were just gone. Had the whole town buzzing for weeks.”

  “And Payne?” Hawk asked.

  “Disappeared,” Mildred answered. “I wonder if they ever caught him. I certainly hope so. There wasn’t much at all in the newspaper, just a short bit on one of the back pages, and I saw nothing on the television news. Of course, in those days we didn’t have so much news on the television, not like we have now. Maybe it was better when we didn’t know so much, but I would like to know if they ever caught that awful man.”

  Hawk pushed down the lump in his throat. It shouldn’t hurt. He’d never known the woman who’d given him birth. He’d never expected to know her. But the news that she’d been murdered sent a chill down his spine and made him physically ill.

  “Why are you digging up all this old history?” Harold asked. “Who’s the woman in that picture to you?”

  Hawk hesitated. He’d never been one for spilling his guts, and he wasn’t going to start now. “No one. I found the picture and she looks familiar. That’s all.”

  “Well, you got a helluva lot of information,” the old man said. “Least you can do is buy something.”

  “Now, Harold.” Mildred slapped her friend’s arm lightly. “Don’t push the boy into buying something he doesn’t want.”

  Hawk pointed to the largest item on the small table. “What’s that?”

  “A toaster cozy,” Mildred said brightly. “I have them in yellow, green and blue.”

  “I’ll take a yellow one.”

  She smiled as she selected a yellow toaster cozy, whatever the hell that was, and placed it in a crumpled, hand-me-down plastic bag from the only grocery store in Wyatt.

  “The farmhouse where the Paynes lived,” Hawk said gruffly as he returned the photo to his pocket and reached for cash to pay for the crocheted item. “Can you tell me how to get there?”

  They were almost an hour away from Wyatt, and Hawk hadn’t said a word since he’d picked her up at the clinic. She’d asked a few questions when she’d first stepped into the passenger seat and as they’d driven away from town, but he’d brushed them off. For the past forty minutes or so she’d been as quiet as he.

  Even Baby, stretched out in the back seat, was restless but silent.

  They truly were in the middle of nowhere. This winding two-lane road twisted past fields and deserted barns and one old store that probably hadn’t seen a customer in at least twenty years.

  Finally Hawk slowed the truck and turned onto a dirt road. At the end of the drive sat a two-story house that had once been white but was now mostly gray, thanks to the peeling paint that revealed weathered boards beneath. The roof was falling in on one side, and the porch overhang looked as if it could crash to the ground at any moment. As Hawk drove slowly closer, Sheryl saw other signs of disrepair. Broken windows, rotting wood, weeds growing through the slats of wood around the sagging porch. Hawk stopped the truck a good distance from the house. He stared at it for a long moment. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he had forgotten she was with him.

  “Hawk?” she said softly. “Why are we here?”

  He rested his forearm on the ste
ering wheel and pointed to the house. “My mother used to live in that house.”

  “Really?” She smiled and laid a hand on his arm. She was surprised when he shook her off.

  “Yeah, really. She was murdered here, too. By my father.”

  It was a horrible truth to find; a sad ending to the story of his beginnings. Sheryl wanted to comfort Hawk, but she knew he didn’t want to be touched. It was clear, by the way he’d shaken her off and by the hard, tense expression on his face, that he didn’t want her comfort.

  But he did want her here with him. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have come by the clinic to pick her up at twelve on the nose. That had to mean something.

  “I’m sorry.” She scooted closer to him, even though his entire body stiffened when she touched his arm. “I’m so sorry you didn’t find what you wanted.”

  He looked down at her, and he didn’t shake her off again. There was such deep pain in his dark eyes, she wanted to throttle whoever had told him the truth!

  “I never should’ve come here,” he said, almost beneath his breath. “I never should’ve started poking around in the past.”

  “You were thinking of your sister.” Sheryl wanted to lay her hand on his cheek, but she knew he’d never accept that touch. Not now, when he was so angry and confused. It was as if he’d drawn away from her, as if they’d never touched or talked or laughed before. “There’s nothing wrong with what you’ve done. You tried, Hawk. You did everything you could.”

  “Yeah,” he said sourly. “And what did it get me?”

  Me, Sheryl wanted to say. It got you me.

  “We’re not finished with the files,” she said instead. “There’s still one unopened box, and we can go through the other documents again looking for a mention of your mother’s name. If that doesn’t take us anywhere we’ll check old newspapers at the library and maybe the Henrietta courthouse.” She realized that Hawk was barely listening.

  “Why did Payne move her way out here?” he asked softly. “It would make for a long drive to town, since apparently he was still working at the clinic. Before Cassie and I were born there was another pregnancy. She lost the baby, and it made her crazy. More good news.” He ran a hand through his hair, as if he were nervous. Was Hawk Donovan ever nervous? “She had a full-time nurse, and Payne was talking about putting her in a facility…but something must’ve happened, because Cassie and I were born, and then he killed her.