by Debra Webb
“Sierra and Marcus said things about me that weren’t true,” she went on when he didn’t look up. “You were close to her back then. Why would she do such a thing?”
His gaze met Cece’s and for a half a minute Deacon was certain he intended to balk.
“You know how she was. Selfish, self-centered. She didn’t care about anyone but herself.”
“What happened to the two of you? You were so good to her.”
Smart move. Deacon wanted to give her a high five.
“She dumped me like she did all the ones who came after me. You can’t satisfy her.”
“Was she cheating on you? That seemed to be what she did back then.”
Deacon figured Levi had told Cece that part, as well.
He nodded. “Oh, yeah. She had her an older guy. I caught her with him right before...well, you know. The murder.”
Deacon’s instincts perked up.
“What old guy?” Cece asked. “I don’t remember an old guy.”
The fact that she completely passed over his mention of the murder and went straight to the cheating surprised Deacon.
“It was a big secret,” Slade said with a heavy dose of derision. “He wasn’t from around here. Pretty much no one knew she was involved with him. I found out totally by accident. Walked right up on the two of them in a car, all hugged up.”
Deacon’s thoughts had gone still at the “he wasn’t from around here” part.
“Who was he?” Cece pressed.
Fairbanks shrugged. “I don’t know his name. I saw him that once, though. Black hair, a little gray around the temples. I didn’t get close enough to see his eyes.”
His breath jammed deep in his lungs, Deacon opened the photo app on his cell phone and handed his phone to Cece. She looked at the image on the screen and then showed it to Slade. “Was it this guy?”
He stared for a moment, then his head started to bob up and down. “Yeah, that’s him. Creepy old bastard.”
Deacon flinched.
“Are you sure they were involved?” Cece asked. “Maybe they were just friends.”
He laughed. “No. She bragged about it later. Said he was going to take her away from here. Give her the life she deserved.”
“Did they break up? What happened to him?”
Deacon’s voice sounded overloud in the room. Cece glanced at him.
Fairbanks stared at him a moment. “I don’t know for sure,” he said. “I only know that she moved on to somebody else. I never saw the guy again.” He turned back to Cece. “You remember Tommy Woosier? She started going with him after that.”
Deacon’s brain was throbbing. Sierra had been involved with Jack somehow? He stared at Cece. Had he been blaming the wrong sister all along? Deacon lost track of the conversation for the next few minutes as he mulled over the potential facts he’d just had to face.
“I just have one other question, Slade.”
Deacon shook off the disturbing thoughts and focused on the conversation between the man and Cece.
“Why did you lie for Sierra that day?”
He paled. “What do you mean? Lie about what?”
“You said you helped Sierra when her car broke down at the time our father was being murdered, but that isn’t true because you just said she was cheating on you. You caught her before the murder. The two of you broke up. Why would you help her?”
Holy hell. She was right, Deacon realized. He’d been so stuck on the news about Sierra and Jack, he’d missed that part of the conversation. He couldn’t wait to hear the man’s answer to that one.
Slade shot to his feet. “Oh, man, you see the time?” He gestured to the clock on the wall. “I have to go. My oldest is expecting me to pick him up.”
Cece stood more slowly. Deacon did the same.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me the truth, Slade. I’ve spent eight years in prison. I deserve to know why.”
He held up his hands as if he could stop her words. “I know. I know.”
“No, you don’t know. You have no idea the things that happened to me in there. Now tell me the truth. You owe me the truth.”
“Okay.” He nodded about twenty times in five seconds. “But if you say I said it, I’ll deny it. That brother of yours—Marcus—told me if I didn’t tell the police that story, he would kill me.”
Cece stared at Fairbanks, her expression one of utter defeat.
“Now go. I have stuff to do.”
The drive back to Cece’s place was made in total silence. It wasn’t until Deacon parked that he spoke, disrupting the too-quiet space between them.
“You think he’s telling the truth?” Deacon asked. She knew her brother. Knew what he was capable of, even if she hadn’t wanted to see it.
“Yes.”
“In that case, it looks like Sierra was way deeper into whatever happened than you thought.” He twisted in the seat to look at Cece. She stared straight ahead. “Do you think she could have killed your father?”
Or my partner? he wanted to say.
“She was a few months from turning sixteen. Just a kid. More important, I never saw her react violently before.” She turned to meet his gaze. “But Marcus could have.”
“They set you up.” The whole damned thing was so crystal clear.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell everyone. I didn’t know who was setting me up, but I knew for certain that I didn’t do it.”
Deacon reached to start his truck once more.
“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice suddenly shaking.
“We’re going back to see your sister’s old boyfriend. I intend to beat the rest of the truth out of him and then we’re calling the sheriff.”
That look—the one like a wild animal trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car—claimed her face, filled her eyes. “You believe me?”
Before he could stop himself he grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her. He hadn’t meant to. Definitely had not meant to kiss her so hard and so deeply. Her lips felt soft beneath his. Her skin smooth and delicate in his palms. Every cell in his body started to burn. Her fingers touched his hands, trembled, and he wanted to pull her beneath him and do things she would hate him for when this was finished.
When he could control himself once more, he drew his mouth from hers but he could not let go...could not lose that contact. He pressed his forehead to hers. Closed his eyes and reached for reason.
But there was no reason.
Not in this.
Chapter Twelve
Tuesday, August 6
Deacon had spent the night on her couch again.
Cece had wanted him to sleep in her room. Well, sleep wasn’t actually what she had wanted. She had wanted more of those hot kisses. She had wanted him to make love to her. Didn’t matter that he was basically a stranger. She knew enough. She wanted him. Wanted to know all of him.
But he had talked her out of being in a rush. There’s time, he had insisted. Time for her to be sure she wasn’t making a mistake, he had explained. He had warned that he was a lot older than she was. That he had a history she didn’t know and understand. He had even said she shouldn’t trust him quite so much.
Then, this morning, he had explained that he had to run an errand and that she should stay in the house, doors locked, shotgun and phone handy.
She had a feeling he was going back to try and locate Slade. He had more questions for him. They hadn’t been able to find him again yesterday.
Her mystery seemed to have become extremely important to Deacon. It felt as if he wanted the truth as badly as she did. Warmth spread through her. He cared about her. That was obvious. She didn’t fully understand how it was possible given the short time they had known each other. A mere five days ago he had been just the stranger next door—the new neighbor.
; But that had all changed now.
At least, for her it had changed.
She rinsed her coffee cup and decided to get back to finding the truth. There had to be something in those files that would help. Deacon had brought them back last night and they’d dug around some more—until it became clear they couldn’t be in the same room alone together for another minute. Then she’d gone to bed and he’d crashed on the couch.
As she knelt next to the coffee table and picked up the copies of the photos from the courtroom that Audrey Anderson had provided, she wondered about the man. This K.C. who’d made all those promises to Sierra—at least, according to Slade. Seeing these photos of him certainly made Deacon unsettled. Did he know the man personally? Was that why he’d had to run errands this morning?
There was something...maybe he was right. Maybe she shouldn’t trust him so completely.
Knocking at the front door made her jump. Fear slid through her veins. She got to her feet and went for the shotgun in the corner. It was loaded. Deacon had made sure. She moved quietly to the window to peek out to see who her visitor was. She held her breath as she moved aside the shade.
Sierra.
Cece scanned the front yard to ensure no one was with her. A car sat in the driveway. Not the same one Levi had driven. She supposed it belonged to her sister. There didn’t appear to be anyone else in the vehicle.
Still, she hesitated. Was her little sister capable of murder? Cece just wasn’t sure. What if something else had happened? The possibility that Levi had been hurt and Sierra had come to tell her had Cece going to the door and unlocking it. She drew it open, the shotgun in her grasp.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
Sierra looked from Cece to the shotgun and back. “We need to talk.”
“Is Levi okay?” Cece resisted the urge to shake her younger sister and demand to know why they couldn’t start over and pretend none of this ever happened.
But it had happened.
Sierra had helped to steal Cece’s life. God only knew what else she had done.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him. I was hoping you had.”
Cece thought of her meeting with Levi at the shack. “No. I haven’t seen him.”
Sierra closed her eyes. “Oh, God.” Her dark eyes suddenly flew open, hatred burning in their opaque depths. “Why did you have to come back? Why didn’t you go somewhere else? Anywhere else? There’s nothing here for you.”
“This is my home as much as it is yours.” Though Cece felt anything but at home in this place, she wasn’t going to allow her sister to tell her where she belonged or did not belong.
“No one wants you here. Can’t you see that? All you do is make everyone restless. Bad things happen when you’re here, Cece.”
The words hit their mark. All these years Cece had been certain her sister—or anyone else for that matter—could say nothing else to her that would hurt. But she had been wrong.
“Just go, Sierra. Just leave.” Cece started closing the door.
Sierra stepped onto the threshold, preventing the door from closing. “I’m warning you, Cece. You should go before something really bad happens.”
Cece studied her sister’s face, searched her eyes. “Are you high? What kind of drugs are you taking?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Sierra snapped. “What I do hurts no one but me. I’m trying to help you.”
Cece laughed. “You mean, the way you helped me during the trial? You and Marcus practically drove the final nails into my coffin. Why would I believe anything you say now?”
“Believe what you want. But if you’re half as smart as you think you are, you’ll go before it’s too late.”
“It’s already too late, Sierra. Are you just now seeing that?”
This time her sister stepped back when Cece closed the door.
She locked it, propped the shotgun in the corner and collapsed against the door. She squeezed her eyes shut and fought back the tears. She had sworn she would never cry over her family again and here she was, blubbering like a fool.
Sierra did not care about her. Marcus sure as hell didn’t. God only knew what was on Levi’s mind these days. The one thing Sierra had right was that Cece should leave. She did not belong here. She should never have come back.
Except she wanted the truth.
She exhaled a breath. Would it change anything? No. Those eight years were gone. There was no getting them back. Would it prove she wasn’t the bad person everyone around here thought she was? Maybe. Maybe not.
Then why didn’t she just go? List her grandmother’s house with a real estate agency and get the hell on with her life?
Because she could not.
She could not pretend the truth didn’t matter.
The truth was all she had.
A knock on the door made her jump away from it.
She gasped. Put a hand to her throat. Damn Sierra. Why didn’t she just leave?
Cece unlocked and yanked open the door. “What do you—?”
But it wasn’t Sierra standing on her porch now. It was the sheriff.
Fear throttled through her. “What’s happened?”
Please don’t let Levi be hurt...or worse.
“Morning, Miss Winters. You mind if I come in a moment?”
“Of course. Come in, Sheriff Tanner.” She considered that the shotgun was in the corner but opted to hope he wouldn’t notice. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
He smiled as he stepped inside. “I understand. You’ve had reason to be a little jumpy.”
Cece closed the door behind him. “I could make some coffee if you’d like a cup, sheriff. I don’t have much else to offer. A glass of water?”
He removed his hat and held it in his hands. “I’m fine. Can we sit and talk for a minute?”
“Of course.” She gestured to a chair. “Excuse the mess. I’ve been going through the files from my court case.”
The pages were spread all over the coffee table and some on the couch. She felt confident the gruesome crime scene photos were nothing new to him.
“Your neighbor, Deacon Ross, has been helping you?”
Cece settled onto the couch, knowing the sheriff wouldn’t sit until she did. “Yes.” She smiled. “He’s been very helpful. Kept me out of trouble a couple of times. He’s a good neighbor.”
The sheriff held her gaze for a long moment before saying more. “I’m afraid I have some potentially troubling information about Mr. Ross.”
Fear stabbed deep into Cece all over again. She had been so worried about Levi. Maybe it was Deacon who had been hurt. “Has something happened?”
“Whenever a stranger comes to town and draws our attention in some suspicious way, Chief Brannigan and I try our best to check him out. Make sure the folks we’re sworn to protect don’t have anything to worry about.”
The fear receded but something else, something dark and disturbing swelled inside her. “Is there something I should know about him?”
Tanner nodded. “I’m afraid so. Mr. Ross is an agent with the FBI.”
Cece managed a jerky nod. “He told me he worked for the federal government.”
A margin of relief trickled through her. Deacon had told her the truth, pretty much. That was good, wasn’t it?
“There’s more to the story, I’m afraid. I spoke to his superiors again this morning. Mr. Ross has been on a leave of absence for a good while now. Apparently, he took that time off just to come and live here. Next door to you.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“He bought the Wilburn place because he wanted to be close to where you would be when you came back after your release.”
A wave of unsteadiness went through her. “You mean, so he could watch me?”
The sheriff nodded. “Back when
your daddy...died, there was a man who went missing. The FBI was all over the county looking for him for a good long while. You won’t remember that because you were...”
She nodded. In jail. Awaiting trial. He didn’t have to say any of that.
“I didn’t recognize Mr. Ross because he was on some deep cover assignment at the time. But this morning I learned that man who disappeared, Jack Kemp, was his mentor and friend. I believe Mr. Ross has come to Winchester because you’re back. He may believe you had something to do with or knew his friend.”
Her hand trembling, Cece picked up one of the photos Audrey Anderson had provided and handed it to the sheriff. “Is the man circled in that photo this Jack Kemp?”
Tanner studied the photo then nodded. “That’s him.” He passed the photo back to Cece. “Did you know him, Miss Winters?”
She shook her head slowly. “But my sister may have.”
He stood. “I’m as sorry as I can be that I didn’t have this information before now. Under the circumstances, I would be wary of Mr. Ross. I’ve got my deputies watching for him. When I catch up with him, he and I will have a talk. If you’d prefer, I’ll tell him not to bother you anymore.”
“He...” Cece stood. Betrayal twisted inside her like barbed wire. But the truth was the truth. “He hasn’t bothered me, sheriff. In fact, he probably saved my life the other night. I don’t know why he bought the farm next door and I don’t know why he befriended me, maybe for the reason you said, but he hasn’t done anything to hurt me. He’s done exactly the opposite.”
Tanner nodded. “All right. I’ll still need to talk to him. If you hear from him, you let him know we need to iron out a few things.”
She nodded. “When I see him again, I’ll tell him.”
At the door the sheriff hesitated. “Miss Winters, I wasn’t part of the original investigation, but I want you to know that if you would like me to review the case, I’ll be more than happy to do so. I’ll do whatever I can to help. If you believe justice failed you, I would very much like the opportunity to help make it right. I’m certain Chief Brannigan would be happy to do the same.”
Cece barely kept the tears burning in her eyes from sliding down her cheeks. “Thank you so much, sheriff. That means a lot to me.”