by Jan Springer
“How do you know I killed anyone? You have proof or am I just a convenient scapegoat?” Tom’s words seemed to rock the older fellow.
“Witnesses saw you pull the trigger. Plastered my brother’s throat and chin all over the walls of his house. You hopped on your bike and tore out of there like the devil himself was after you.”
Tom grimaced as a flash of something passed through his mind. He pressed his fingers against his temples, trying to keep it from coming.
Someone yelled at him to run. Yelled at him to save himself. Save the truth. A flittering picture of shattering glass. Then the blood. Trying desperately to stem the flow of blood. Even when he knew it was too late. Images of driving his motorcycle through the coldness of the dead of night.
Tom shook himself from the webs of his memories.
The old man stared at him making him squirm uneasily. He felt as if he was a bug specimen under a microscope and the old man a mad scientist ready to stick a pin into him. The old man’s next words shocked him.
“You were a good cop. Why’d you turn?”
Tom’s mind reeled. “A cop?” He was a cop?
The idea was both mind-shattering and exciting.
“Garry!” Both jumped at the unexpected interruption. It was the woman. Sara’s sister. She stood at the barn door.
“What?”
“Bring him into the house!” she instructed. “Sara has some information you need to hear.”
“All right. We’ll be right in.”
Garry leaned over in his wheelchair slamming the key into the lock of the handcuffs. His eyes narrowed threateningly. “Don’t make one wrong move,” he warned icily. “I’m keeping my eye on you. So watch your step.”
—
A few minutes later Tom stomped up the back door wheelchair ramp and into the house. His hands were cuffed in front of him. His back prickled under the scrutiny of the gun he knew Garry pointed at him. From behind, he could hear the barely discernible squeak one of the wheels of the wheelchair made, as Garry used his free hand to whip his wheelchair quickly up the ramp.
Tom had to hand it to the old fellow. He was quite efficient in the way he maneuvered the chair with one hand and kept the gun trained on him with the other. He hadn’t allowed Tom one second at attempting to escape.
As Tom passed the open doorway to the bedroom, he briefly caught a glimpse of the mussed up covers on the bed he’d shared with Sara last night. Although he hadn’t admitted it to her, the first time he’d seen her dashing up the walkway, her wonderful auburn curls billowing around her heart-shaped face in the rising wind, he’d fallen head over heels for the woman.
And now when they carted him off to jail, he’d most likely never hold her again. A great emptiness welled inside of himself and he almost preferred it if Garry would shoot him and put him out of his misery.
Garry instructed Tom to sit down in one of the overstuffed sofas in the living room. All the while, the gun remained trained on him.
A moment later Jocelyn brought in a heaping plate of cinnamon-covered donuts and various croissants, and placed it on top of the coffee table in front of Tom. Tom’s stomach heaved at the sight of the food.
“I know it’s not a healthy type of breakfast,” Jo said as she leaned over and picked up two of the cinnamon-covered donuts. “But once in a while won’t hurt. Help yourself.”
She seemed genuinely surprised when he didn’t take one. “They really are delicious. C’mon,” she urged. When he shook his head, she smiled softly at him.
“Don’t worry, you’ll come around.” She walked over to the recliner closest to the fireplace and sat down.
Tom couldn’t get over her resemblance to Sara. He didn’t understand why he hadn’t seen it earlier.
She had the same pretty nose, well-rounded full lips and the same type of heart-shaped face like Sara, but that’s where the resemblance ended. She was taller than Sara. Not as thin. Her eyes weren’t as wide-set as Sara’s, and she had pretty forget-me-not blue eyes.
Her hair seemed darker than Sara’s. Chestnuts. That’s it. Her hair seemed the color of roasting chestnuts.
“A wonderful woman in town bakes them every Monday.” She was still talking to him as if he were an old friend paying a visit instead of a criminal shackled in her sister’s living room. She took a huge bite out of the donut. Misty brown sugar caressed her mouth.
He really didn’t feel like socializing, so he said nothing. He just wanted everything to be sorted out so he could get on with life. Even if it meant living it behind bars.
Sara entered with a pot of steaming coffee, some mugs and a large paper bag on top of a large tray. He found himself relaxing when she threw him an encouraging smile as she sat down on the couch beside him.
“Don’t get too close to him, Sara.” Garry warned in an icy tone.
Tom was surprised when Sara whirled on her father-in-law. Her dark chocolate eyes sparkled dangerously with anger. God, she looked so beautiful when she was mad.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Garry. Or you, Jo, for that matter. I was always under the impression you two believed in innocent until proven guilty.”
Jo leaned comfortably back in her chair, seemingly content to watch and observe. A hint of a smile played at the sides of her full lips. Tom got the feeling she seemed happy at Sara’s outburst, but Garry’s eyes grew dark and fierce with disgust.
“What kind of garbage has this man been feeding you, Sara? There’s witnesses. Or hasn’t Jo told you.”
“Damn your witnesses!” Sara spat at Garry.
Garry looked shocked for a moment but recovered quite quickly. “He’s wanted for murdering my brother. Until you give me some information that can change my mind—”
“I have some information.”
The donut tray and yet untouched coffeepot and mugs danced crazily on the table as she slammed the bag containing their evidence down with furious determination. If she was looking to get Garry’s attention she was doing a good job of it, Tom mused as he watched Garry peer at the bag, obvious curiosity on his weathered face.
“What’s this?”
Sara reached in and brought out another bag.
“In this bag is a bomb that Tom found among the ruins of our inn.”
Garry’s jaw fell open in apparent shock and before he could say anything, Sara produced the familiar note and the handcuffs Tom had arrived in. She handed them to Garry’s now eagerly outstretched hand.
“This is a note Tom arrived with. And the cuffs I pried off him.”
She proceeded to produce the ashtray containing two bullets. The bullet retrieved from the cabin in Jackfish and the one she’d dug out of his own back. Tom flinched at the memory.
Pointing to one of the two bullets lying so innocently in the ashtray she said rather sharply, “And this is the bullet that attempted to silence your witness.”
“Witness?” Garry exclaimed with disbelief.
“That’s right. Tom is a witness. To a murder in Jackfish.”
The familiar pounding in Tom’s temples increased another notch.
Garry’s eyes narrowed. “Murder in Jackfish? This is the first I’ve heard of this. Who got murdered?”
“Sam Blake. As he was attempting to kill Tom. We found Sam’s body in the bottom of a well in Jackfish where Justin stashed it after he killed Sam Blake.”
“Justin killed Sam?” Garry looked at Sara as if she might be crazy.
“That’s right,” she replied defiantly and folded her arms across her heaving chest. Garry sighed as he leaned over and picked up the bullet Sara had pointed to from the ashtray. His eyes narrowed as he examined it carefully.
“Police issue. Older model,” his gaze flew to Tom. “You’re a lucky pup. Newer models cause more damage.”
“Hurts just the same,” Tom replied sourly.
“I’ll bet,” he returned the bullet into the ashtray as he continued to peer curiously at Tom. “Where were you shot?”
“
In the back.”
“I see.” Although his expression appeared blank, instinctively Tom could tell Garry was getting quite interested. “And the other bullet?”
“We got it from the cabin where Jeffries and Blake were holding Tom prisoner. When Tom escaped, Justin shot at him. He missed the first time and hit a wall. The second time he got Tom in the back. I can swear to that in court because I’m the one who dug the bullet out of him.”
Garry’s bushy white eyebrows furrowed as he flashed Tom a quick look of concern. Then his gaze fell onto the note Tom had used to find his way here. As he read it, his blue eyes became dark with anger.
“This is Robin’s handwriting.”
Sara suddenly burst with excitement. “Tom, where are the keys? The motorcycle keys?”
“I have them. Why?” Garry said.
“Look at them, Garry.”
Garry threw her a confused look, shook his head with apparent impatience. With all this evidence coming out of the woodwork, Tom knew Garry was beginning to feel swamped and a bit irritated. Reluctantly the old man dug into his coat pocket to produce the item in question.
“Robin must have given Tom the note and the keys to my place knowing that I go on a lot of delivery trips with my peppermint products,” Sara said quickly.
Garry frowned and asked Tom coldly. “Did my brother give them to you? Or did you merely pick the keys up at the scene of the crime?”
Tom shrugged as he felt all eyes fall onto him. A cold sweat popped out across his forehead and scattered across his back. His headache began to gain momentum. He didn’t like the tone of Garry’s voice.
“I don’t know.”
“What the hell kind of answer is that!”
“He’s got amnesia, Garry,” Sara replied quickly.
Garry lifted his hand to press a finger firmly against his temple. Tom noticed the signs. The man was encountering a doozie of a headache. Well, join the club.
Garry chuckled strangely, shaking his head with disbelief. He whipped an amused look at him.
“You couldn’t come up with a better one than that? Half the criminals I work with use that line as a defense.”
Suddenly he’d had enough.
The dam of anger building through him finally burst.
“Frankly, I don’t give a shit about your other criminals. I came here because I found that note in my pocket. It was the only lead I had at the time. I waited for your help and now I’m being treated like a criminal. You might as well just blow a hole the size of a barn door through my head and be done with it, because once the cops get a hold of me, it’ll be morgue time.”
The room suddenly grew quiet.
After a moment, it was Jo that broke the silence. “Coffee anyone?”
—
An hour later, Sara and Jo were in the kitchen busily preparing a midday meal. Garry had taken a couple of aspirin for a headache and had escorted Tom to the bedroom so he could lie down and keep an eye on Tom at the same time.
How he could do both was beyond Sara. The least Garry could have done was allow Tom to stay here in the kitchen while Jo and she fixed up a lunch. Thankfully though, Garry had agreed not to contact the authorities. At least not yet.
“I can’t believe Garry is being so stubborn,” Sara hissed to her sister as she added some more hot water to the brown rice boiling in the pan.
“Sure you can. You were married to his son,” Jo chuckled as she reached into the cupboard for some plates to set the table. “Anyway I’m not making any excuses for Gar, but he’s only concerned for your safety and so am I.”
Sara whirled angrily on her little sister. “I’ve been around Tom for almost two weeks. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have done it by now.”
Jo threw her a puzzled look. “Hey don’t get so excited, Sara. We care about you. You can’t blame us for being protective, can you? I mean I know you would do the same thing for me if I was in your situation.”
She nodded. What Jo was saying was so true.
Taking a deep breath she allowed her anger to ebb away, then decided to ask the question that had been gnawing at her for the past two weeks.
“Do you think Garry will help Tom?”
Her sister visibly stiffened at the question. “Are you sure you want my opinion? You won’t like what I have to say.”
“Yes, please be honest, Jo. I don’t want any false illusions. Tell me what you think.”
“With all the evidence we have against this guy so far, I don’t think he has any chance, but if he can shed more light on all this and remember what really happened at Robin’s house the night he was murdered, then our opinions will change.”
Sara stopped stirring the rice and turned to face Jo who was watching her carefully.
“Are you telling me you don’t believe the witnesses?”
“I can’t say anything, Sara.”
“C’mon, I’m your sister.”
Sighing heavily, she patted her shoulder affectionately. “I don’t want to get your hopes—”
“So there is something,” Sara whispered, instinctively knowing her sister was having doubts about Tom being guilty.
“Oh, God, don’t get your hopes up, please. It may turn out to be nothing. And don’t tell Garry I said anything.”
“You have a hunch?”
“Sara…please don’t read too much into what I said.”
Jo’s words of warning couldn’t wipe out the excitement running rampant throughout her. Jo knew something and Sara had every bit of confidence Jo and Garry would discover Tom’s innocence.
“Not to worry. My lips are sealed.” She couldn’t stop herself from humming as she returned to stirring the rice.
“Anything else you want me to do after I set the table?”
“That’s everything,” Sara said, and then suddenly she remembered she’d forgotten something.
“Oh, my gosh. Dessert. I don’t have anything for dessert. Garry won’t listen to anything I say unless I ply him with sweets.”
“Got that covered. Widow McCloud cooked up a batch of her famous fresh blueberry coffee cakes early this morning. She’d taken them out of her oven only minutes before opening the store. There’s one on top of the fridge beside where you put Garry’s mail. And it’s probably still warm.”
“That’s Garry’s favorite! It’s perfect.” Sara couldn’t believe her luck. “Garry will do just about anything for Widow McCloud’s blueberry coffee cake.”
“Of course he will, and Widow McCloud knows it. She asked me to tell him to pick her up this Friday evening and they would be going to bingo.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. And you know what else? That’s where I got my first inkling you had a man about the house.”
Oh, God! The condoms she’d bought at the store.
“She didn’t mention…”
“The condoms? Yes, she did.” Jo laughed. “That’s what you get for living in a small town. And even if she hadn’t told me, that little box sitting on the bathroom shelf would have clued me in. And by the beet red shade on your face…” Jo’s words trailed off for a moment before squealing with excitement and disbelief.
“You didn’t!”
Sara nodded, her face flaming.
“Details, girl. Details. Details. Details.” Jo laughed. “How? Well, I know how. I mean, so soon? You don’t even know him. He’s wanted for murder for heaven’s sake!”
“I’ll tell you all about it…” Sara hesitated before adding “…someday.”
Jo crossed her arms and leaned against the kitchen counter throwing Sara a relieved smile. “At least you were sensible enough to use protection.”
Sara bit her lower lip and returned to stirring the rice. They hadn’t used the condoms every time and she’d already had some time to digest the probability she might be pregnant or maybe something a whole hell of a lot worse.
Maybe it was desperation clouding her sensible side. Maybe she was just plain stupid, but she hoped her instin
cts about him were right. That he was a very careful man with his bed partners and she wouldn’t get anything but pregnant from last night’s lovemaking. Nothing else could come from their sexfest. Their lovemaking had been so beautiful, she simply refused to believe anything but beauty would result from having sex with Tom.
—
Sitting on the edge of Sara’s freshly made bed where he’d been handcuffed as Garry snoozed, Tom listened to Sara’s cheerful voice drift through the open door. He wondered what Jo was saying to keep Sara’s spirits up so high. He wished he could get in on it. He desperately needed some cheering up, too.
“I haven’t heard Sara happy like this in quite some time.” Tom jerked around at Garry’s gruff voice. He could have sworn the man had been sleeping. Garry’s eyes however remained closed as he spoke again.
“She used to laugh like that when my son was alive. But then he was murdered. Some say she did it. But I know better. Just wasn’t able to prove it.”
“Who do you think did it?”
“I’m not at liberty to say,” Garry replied. His eyes popped open and he eyed Tom curiously. “So exactly how did Sam Blake die?”
“Blake had a gun pointed at my head. I really wasn’t too curious as to watching the bullet escape the gun so I closed my eyes before Blake pulled the trigger. I heard a shot and next thing I know Blake’s on the ground. And Jeffries is standing there with a smoking gun. After that, I passed out. When I had a chance to escape, I scrambled out of the basement and then fell over the body. The moon was shining through a window and I noticed the bullet hole between Blake’s eyes. I grabbed the gun lying on the floor beside Blake and ran.”
Garry’s eyebrow arched up. “You have the weapon?”
“I do.”
He wiggled excitedly into a sitting position. “Where is it?”
“You take off these cuffs and I’ll get it for you.”
“Nice try, pup.”
“A guy can try, can’t he?” Tom chuckled.
“What kind of gun is it?”
“A .32. It’s not police issue.”
“A .32?”
“He drew it out of his boot.”
“A dummy gun. Although it’s illegal for cops to carry unregistered guns some do it anyway.”