The accident that turned out not to be entirely an accident. A deep sadness welled up inside her. Michael had told her the entire story Sunday afternoon. How Wilson kept trying to cover his tracks and, in the process, destroyed so many lives while he denied wrongdoing. If Michael hadn’t been the one telling her, she might not have believed it. Not of the man she’d known since they were both children. The man who had been a substitute father to Michael in many ways. The man who had stolen Michael’s parents from him.
Malinda rubbed her forehead as though that might eliminate the confusion of thought inside her head. She liked things being black-and-white with clear answers. But life wasn’t that way. It was no wonder Michael wasn’t his usual self. He would be feeling the same confusion. The same betrayal. He needed to talk about it to someone.
When Michael started up his cruiser and drove past Reece’s house without slowing down, Malinda let out a long sigh. Across the street, Reece’s front door opened and Alexandria stepped out on the porch to stare after Michael’s car. If only Malinda could get them to see how foolish they were to not reach out to one another. They were both so sure their disparate lives made love impossible. But didn’t they know that nothing was impossible with prayer and the Lord?
Great is thy faithfulness. Each morning new mercies, and the Lord knew how desperately they needed those mercies on this day.
Malinda sighed again, and June spoke up behind her. “Is Michael all right?”
“Yes, of course. He’s sad as we all are, but he’s all right.” Malinda turned from the window. She was a little ashamed to be dwelling on her own sorrows when June’s had to be much deeper and harder to face. She reached for June’s hands. “Thank you.”
June grasped her hands. She stared at Malinda with dry eyes. June looked like a fragile rose, but underneath was steel. “I am so very sorry,” she said.
Malinda knew what she meant, that June had guessed about so much more than had been spoken between them. She squeezed her friend’s hands. “Yes. So am I, but time will pass and the memories will be easier.”
“One day at a time is all we’re given.” June pulled her hands free and brushed away a tear that had slipped up on her.
“Each day his mercies.”
“Yes, I am depending on that.” June turned back down the hallway. “Claire is setting out some food. You will stay and eat with us, and Claire thinks others might stop in to help the day pass. Perhaps Alexandria and Reece. I’m sorry Michael couldn’t stay.”
“Yes, so am I.” Malinda glanced back at the window and sent prayers after Michael.
31
The next morning Michael quit playing the game. He ignored his uniform hanging on the closet door and pulled on blue jeans and a T-shirt instead. He threw some food into a cooler and pulled out his camping gear from the back of the closet. He loaded it all plus Jasper and his fishing rods in his motor boat and took off across the lake.
He’d have to pay for his disappearance, but he didn’t care. The night before, he had turned the ringer on his phone off. He had listened to the messages when he got up, but he didn’t return any of the calls. Not Karen’s or Aunt Lindy’s. Not even Alex’s when she told him to call to say goodbye before she left.
Sheriff Potter’s voice had been in there too, but after the “Hey, Mike,” Michael had fast-forwarded through the rest of his message.
It was nice out on the lake with Jasper. When the dog jumped in the lake for a swim, Michael threw out the anchor and jumped in with him. The water was cool, but once back in the boat, the sun warmed him while he dried off.
He’d forgotten about the little island until it was in front of him. Maybe he had never remembered it since the accident, but as he steered toward land, memories came flooding back. When he was a kid, he felt like Columbus discovering this place. The little island had trees and wildflowers, a spring, and a rock overhang where he could get out of the rain. It was as good a place as any to hide out for a while.
On the third or maybe the fourth day, he wasn’t surprised to spot another boat headed toward the island. He was lying on the top of the highest boulder watching a red-tailed hawk make circles over the lake. Jasper was stretched out beside him, a satisfied puff of air escaping the dog’s mouth every little bit. Other boats had passed by the little island, mostly tourists busy with their own plans. They sped past, smiling and waving. But this boat headed directly toward the island. Someone local must have spotted him.
“The jig is up, Jasper.” Michael sat up and watched the small fishing boat. The dog raised his ears and barked a couple of times just to keep things interesting.
Michael had never planned to stay on the island forever. He just needed time to think it all through, but it seemed easier not to think about it. Not to worry about what was next. Just enjoy the fishing and the sunshine. The birds and the lap of water against the shore.
He squinted toward the boat still a good ways off. Only one person in it, but it wasn’t the sheriff. Not that Michael had expected him to come after him, even if Aunt Lindy had insisted someone do so. Maybe Buck, but the person didn’t look big enough for Buck. Besides, Buck had one of those fast fishing boats. This was just a little dinghy with an outboard motor like Michael’s. The sheriff might have sent Lester after him, but it couldn’t be Lester. Too close to school crossing time. Then again, this might be Saturday. He had lost track of the days.
Still, if it was Lester, he’d have his hat on. Michael couldn’t imagine Lester doing anything remotely official without wearing his uniform. Michael played with some other names. Paul Osgood? He might be recovered enough from his surgery to hunt Michael down and demand a full report of the murders. Hank Leland? He could want a picture of the dropout deputy sheriff for next week’s Gazette. Anthony? The kid might be searching for a place to hide from the world himself.
That was as far as he got when he recognized the boat. Reece’s. But it wasn’t the old lawyer piloting it. When Michael stood up on the rock, Jasper started wagging his tail and scrambled down off the rocks. After staring a moment at the boat steadily drawing nearer, Michael followed Jasper down. Nobody could hide forever. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to.
“Hello, Huckleberry.” Alex cut the motor and threw Michael the rope to pull the boat up on the bank.
Michael smiled. He should have known. Who else would come after him?
“How’d you find me?” he asked as he helped her out of the boat.
She didn’t answer right away as she greeted Jasper by scratching his neck. Then she straightened up and looked at Michael. “It wasn’t hard. Don’t you remember? We ran away here once when we were kids. Your dad came after us before it got dark and made us go home. I cried all the way.”
“I don’t remember,” Michael said.
“One of the lost ones, I suppose. A shame.” Alex pulled a face. “It was one of our best adventures.”
“I thought you had to go back to the big city.” He pulled her boat farther up on the bank and tied the rope to a tree.
“I did. Got my people out of jail.” She looked at him with raised eyebrows. “I hear you didn’t put your people in.”
“Aunt Lindy send you to get me?” Michael walked with her up the bank to a level spot.
“Your amnesia must be kicking in again. Not Malinda. She said you’d come back when you were ready, and if you weren’t ready, there wasn’t any use trying to make you. That there were some things a person had to work out on their own.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I’m not really sure.” Alex flashed a smile at him. “Maybe it’s just because I’m so competitive. I mean, it’s panic in the streets in Hidden Springs. Or should I say street.”
“Panic? Surely no more bodies on the courthouse steps.”
“Maybe panic isn’t quite the right word.” She dropped down on a rock ledge and patted the spot beside her. “Sit.”
He did as she said. “Then what is the right word?”
“Wor
ry? Concern?” She hooked her hair back behind her ears. “Actually, I wouldn’t doubt if there are a few folks who are wondering if you might not be dead, murdered even by the real murderer since everybody knows it couldn’t have been the judge in spite of what that Hank Leland put out in the paper. Let’s face it. Paper will lie still and let you write anything on it, and nowadays with folks using computers, well, who knows what the truth is anymore?”
“Not me.” Michael leaned back and looked up at the sky.
She glanced over at him but let that pass. “Fact is, Paul Osgood, now that he’s on the mend, is one of those not sure of the story Hank wrote up. At least he’s not going to close the case till he hears the story straight from your lips, and Betty Jean says he’s real anxious to hear the story straight from your lips. She says he’s about to drive her batty. Anyway, he’s sort of made it a contest to see who can find you and bring you in first.”
“Then I guess Buck’s not looking.” In spite of himself, a smile tried to wake up inside him.
“Not so Paul will know anyway.” Alex picked up a rock and tossed it down toward the water. “See how good I’m getting at figuring out all this small-town political stuff?”
“What about the sheriff?” Michael pulled his eyes away from the sky to look at her.
“He’s mad as all get-out at you, but a little worried too that you might not come back and do all his work for him. Lester is having trouble taking up the slack, and Betty Jean told me she had to hunt the sheriff down at the Grill half a dozen times since you deserted your post. Sheriff Potter is not a happy camper.” She peered over at him. “Are you?”
“Don’t I look like it?” Michael let his grin slide out on his face. He was glad to see a person again. Especially this person.
“You look awful. Your nose is going to peel and your hair looks like you stuck your finger in a light socket. And your beard. Did you know there’s a spot of gray there?” Alex pointed at his cheek.
“Probably dirt.” Michael rubbed his hand across his beard. “If I’d known I was going to have company, I’d have shaved.”
“Did you bring a razor?”
“No.”
Alex laughed. “Oh well, I’m a sucker for the wild, rugged type.”
“You’re a hard woman to figure.” Michael kept his eyes on her face. “I thought you liked the city slicker type.”
“And I thought you liked the preacher type.” Alex didn’t quite hide the question lurking behind her words. “You have to admire a woman with the moxie to take on pastoring a church in Hidden Springs.”
“Karen is an exceptional woman.”
“You had about ten messages from her on your machine before the tape ran out, and a note on your door.” Alex looked down quickly. “I didn’t read it, of course.”
“You could have. Karen and I are just friends. Nothing serious.”
“Are you sure she feels the same way?” Alex peeked up at him. “She sounded awfully concerned on those messages.”
“She’s a preacher. A good pastor. She’s supposed to be concerned about her members. And her friends.”
“And what about you? Didn’t you think about how you might be worrying your friends?”
“Okay. So I’m a bum.”
“You won’t find many who’ll give you an argument on that right now.” Alex bit her lip but couldn’t quite hide her smile. “But I’ve been known to defend a bum now and again. Charity work.”
“Did you bring food? That’s the charity I need right now.”
“Tired of fish?” She laughed and pointed at the boat. “Of course I brought food.”
Two ham sandwiches later, Michael leaned back against a tree and opened another soft drink as he watched Alex feed Jasper half her sandwich. The dog finished it in two gulps and then lay down with his head in her lap. Michael was envious.
For a while they talked about how blue the lake was and which fish were biting, but then they seemed to run out of words. Alex kept her eyes on Jasper as she stroked the dog’s head. Waves lapped up against the shore when a boat passed far out in the lake, but neither of them gave it more than a passing glance. High above their heads two buzzards drifted along on the air currents. That’s what Michael had been doing, just drifting whichever way the wind blew him the last few days. But maybe now it was time to start dipping his wings to give himself some direction.
As if Alex read his thoughts, she said, “You can’t stay here forever.”
“A week’s not forever.”
“Nothing’s going to be different in another week.”
“I might be.”
Alex considered that a moment. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“There’s not much to talk about.”
“I think there is.” Alex used her best lawyer voice. She pushed Jasper’s head off her lap and came over to sit cross-legged directly in front of him. “And I’m not leaving till you talk.”
“Good. I didn’t want you to leave anyway.”
A smile played around her lips, but she wiped it away with one of her hands. “How long were you planning on us staying?”
“How much food did you bring?”
“Not nearly enough, the way you and Jasper eat.”
“I’ve been aiming to go on a diet.” Michael kept his eyes on her face. “That other time, did we go skinny-dipping?”
She let the smile surface this time. “That’s something I guess you’ll never know.”
“Not unless you tell me.”
“We went swimming.”
“Let’s go swimming now.” He sat up and pulled off his shirt.
“Okay. Swim now, but then we’ll talk.” Alex stood up and stripped off her jeans and shirt down to a black one-piece suit.
He laughed. “Alex. Always prepared.”
She shrugged. “I thought I might get some sun while you packed up your camping gear.” She waded out into the water. Jasper splashed along beside her. “Ooh, the water’s still cold.”
“Wakes up the senses.” Michael stepped into the lake beside her.
“Mine don’t go to sleep.” She grinned over at him and splashed on through the water until it was deep enough to plunge in.
They laughed and swam the same as they must have when they were kids, but just as that fun had had to end then, this fun did too. They climbed out and lay in the sun to dry off. She didn’t push him to say anything, and maybe that was why after a while Michael started talking.
Alex reached over and held his hand when he told her about the judge being the one to cause the wreck. She squeezed it tighter when he got to the part about remembering the judge peering through the window at him and then leaving him to die. He told her everything, even about his crazy plan that almost got him and Anthony killed and how Miss June’s phone call to Hank Leland might be the only reason he was sitting there beside her now.
When at last he’d said it all, Alex waited a moment and then asked, “Now what?”
Michael had been staring up at the sky the whole time he talked, but when she spoke, he turned his head to look at her. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here.”
Alex sat up and stared down at him. “The trouble with you, Michael, is that you expect everybody to be good.”
“I know better than that.” He didn’t shy away from her eyes.
“You know it, but you don’t want to believe it. You went off to the big city and saw things happening there that you couldn’t do anything about. Terrible things.” Her still damp hair hung down over her cheeks. “So you thought you’d come back to your private little corner of the world where nothing bad ever happened, or at least nothing very bad.”
“What’s so awful about that?” He reached up to push a stray strand of her hair away from her eyes.
She shoved his hand away impatiently. She didn’t like anything interfering when she was winning an argument. “Nothing, except you’re a little old to believe in fairy tales. People here in Hidden Springs are like people anywhere else. So
me good. Some not.”
“Maybe you’re right. I shouldn’t believe in fairy tales.” His eyes probed hers. “How about angels? Can I believe in angels?”
She looked at him for a long moment. “You can believe in angels.”
“I don’t want to just believe in them. I want to kiss one of them.” He reached up to run his finger along her cheek to her lips. She didn’t shove his hand away this time.
“I’m not an angel.”
“Close enough.” He wrapped his hand behind her neck and gently pulled her down toward him until their lips were touching. Then the wind and sun seemed to become part of their embrace as everything else faded away.
32
Not until much later when the shadows began to grow long and deep did Michael at last start packing up his camping gear. Alex pulled her jeans on over her swimsuit and asked the same question she’d asked earlier. “What now?”
He stopped and looked up at her. “I don’t know. Do you think I’d make a good fishing guide?”
“You make a good policeman.” She buttoned up her shirt and produced a comb from somewhere to rake through her hair.
“You always told me that any Tom, Dick, or Harry could go around getting shot at.”
“So, maybe I was worried about you.” She shrugged a little as she sat down to tie her sneakers.
“Were you?” He sat back on his haunches and watched her.
He thought he knew her so well, but now it was plain his lost memories kept him a step behind her. He remembered all those letters she wrote him while he was in a coma. When he was able to read again, he’d pored over them until he almost absorbed the words. But could be, if Aunt Lindy hadn’t thrown them out, he should read them again. Alex’s teenage words might tease more memories out of the dark. He wanted to do more than simply remember events. He wanted to recapture the feelings.
She took an extra long time tying her laces, but at last she looked up. “I was worried about you. Policemen wear guns and get shot at.” She made a face. “It could be that I didn’t have the proper perspective on law enforcement careers at the time.”
Murder at the Courthouse Page 26