Mr. Higgins sneaked into the kitchen, staring up at Annie Laurie, purring lightly.
Ashe held his cousin at arm’s length, remembering the first time he’d seen her. She’d been a skinny eight-year-old whose parents had been killed in an automobile accident. Mama Mattie, Annie Laurie’s mother’s aunt, had been the child’s closest relative and hadn’t hesitated to open her home and heart to the girl, just as she had done for Ashe. “Here, let me have a good look at you. My, my. You sure have grown. And into a right pretty young lady.”
Blushing, Annie Laurie shoved her slipping glasses back up her nose. “You haven’t seen me since I was thirteen.”
Hearing a car exit the driveway, Ashe glanced out the window in time to see a black Mercedes backing up, a familiar-looking redheaded guy driving.
“Your boyfriend bring you home from work?” Ashe asked.
Annie Laurie’s pink cheeks flamed bright red. She cast her gaze down toward the floor, then bent over, picked up Mr. Higgins and held him in her arms.
“Stop teasing the girl,” Mattie said.
“He’s not your boyfriend?” Ashe lifted her chin.
“He’s my boss.”
“Your boss?”
“That was Neil Posey,” Mattie said. “You remember him. He’s Archie Posey’s son. He’s partners with Deborah in their daddies’ real estate firm.”
“You work for Vaughn & Posey Real Estate?” Ashe asked. “I guess Mama Mattie told me and I’d just forgotten.”
“I’m Neil’s…that is, Mr. Posey’s secretary. And he’s not my boyfriend. He’s Deborah’s…I mean, he likes her.”
“What?” Ashe laughed aloud. Neil Posey was Deborah’s boyfriend? That short, stocky egghead with carrot red hair and trillions of freckles.
“I’ve tried to tell Annie Laurie that Deborah isn’t interested in Neil just because he follows her around like a lovesick puppy dog.” Mattie shook her head, motioning for Ashe to let the subject drop. “Are you staying for supper? I’ve got some chicken all thawed out. It won’t take me long to fry it up.”
“Sorry, Mama Mattie, I’m expected for dinner at the Vaughns’, but I’m looking forward to some of your fried chicken while I’m home.”
“You be sure and tell Deborah and Miss Carol I asked about them,” Mattie said. “And, here, take Allen some of my tea cakes. He loves them as much as you used to when you were his age.”
Ashe caught an odd look in his grandmother’s eyes. It was as if she knew something she wanted him to know, but for some reason didn’t see fit to tell him. He shook off the notion, picked up his coffee mug and relaxed, enjoying being home. Back in his grandmother’s house. Back with the only real family he’d ever known.
DEBORAH CHECKED HER appearance in the cheval mirror, tightened the backs of her pearl earrings and lifted the edge of her neckline so that her pearl necklace lay precisely right. Ashe McLaughlin’s presence at their dinner table tonight had absolutely nothing to do with her concern about her appearance, she told herself, and knew it was a lie. Her undue concern was due to Ashe, and so was her nervousness.
Didn’t she have enough problems without Ashe reappearing in her life after eleven years? How could her mother have thought that bringing that man back into their lives could actually help her? She’d almost rather face Buck Stansell alone than have to endure weeks with Ashe McLaughlin at her side twenty-four hours a day.
Of course, her mother had been right in hiring a personal bodyguard for her. She had to admit that she’d considered the possibility herself. But not Ashe!
Ever since she had inadvertently driven up on the scene of Corey Looney’s execution, she had been plagued by nightmares. Both awake and asleep. Time and again she saw the gun, the blood, the man’s body slump to the ground. Even in the quiet of her dark bedroom, alone at night, she could hear the sound of the gun firing.
Shivers racked Deborah’s body. Chill bumps broke out on her arms. The letters and telephone calls had begun the day the sheriff arrested Lon Sparks. At first she had tried to dismiss them, but when they persisted, even the local authorities became concerned.
Colbert County’s sheriff and an old family acquaintance, Charlie Blaylock, had assigned a deputy to her before and during the preliminary hearing, but couldn’t spare a man for twenty-four-hour-a-day protection on an indefinite basis. Charlie had spoken to the state people, the FBI and the DEA, hoping one or more of the agencies’ interest in Buck Stansell’s dealings might bring in assistance and protection for Deborah.
But there was no proof Buck Stansell was involved, even though everyone knew Lon Sparks worked for Stansell. The federal boys wanted to step in, but murder in Colbert County was a local crime. They’d keep close tabs on the situation, but couldn’t become officially involved.
Charlie had been the one to suggest hiring a private bodyguard. Deborah had agreed to consider the suggestion, never dreaming her mother would take matters into her own hands and hire Ashe McLaughlin.
Closing the door behind her, Deborah stepped out into the upstairs hallway, took a deep breath and ventured down the stairs. When she entered the foyer, she heard voices coming from the library, a room that had once been her father’s private domain. Her mother had kept the masculine flavor of the room, but had turned it into a casual family retreat where she or Deborah often helped Allen with his homework. The old library was more a family room now.
She stood in the open doorway, watching and listening, totally unnoticed at first. Her mother sat in a tan-and-rust floral print chair, her current needlepoint project in her hand. She smiled, her gaze focused on Allen and Ashe, who were both sitting on the Tabriz rug, video-game controls in their hands as they fought out a battle on the television screen before them.
“You’re good at this,” Allen said. “Are you sure you don’t have a kid of your own you play with all the time?”
Deborah sucked in a deep breath, the sting of her son’s words piercing her heart. She couldn’t bear the way Allen looked at Ashe, so in awe of the big, friendly man he must never know was his father.
“I don’t have any kids of my own.” Ashe hadn’t thought much about having a family. His life didn’t include a place for a wife and children, although at one time, a family had been high on his list of priorities—eleven years ago when he’d thought he would marry Whitney Vaughn and carve a place for himself in local society. Hell, he’d been a fool in more ways than one.
“You should be thinking about a family, Ashe,” Carol Vaughn said, laying aside her needlework. “You’re how old now, thirty-two? Surely you’ve sowed all the wild oats a man would need to sow.”
Ashe turned his head, smiled at Carol, then frowned when he caught sight of Deborah standing in the doorway. “I haven’t really given marriage a thought since I left Sheffield. When a man puts his trust in the wrong woman, more than once, the way I did, it makes him a little gun-shy.”
Deborah met his fierce gaze directly, not wavering the slightest when he glared at her with those striking hazel eyes…gold-flecked green eyes made even more dramatic since they were set in a hard, lean, darkly tanned face.
Ashe realized that he could not win the game of staring her down. Deborah Vaughn had changed. She was no longer the shy, quiet girl who always seemed afraid to look him in the eye. Now she seemed determined to prove to him how tough she was, how totally immune she was to him.
With that cold, determined stare she told him that he no longer had any power over her, that the lovesick girl she’d once been no longer existed. Her aversion to him came as no great surprise, but what did unsettle him was her accusatory attitude, as if she found him at fault.
All right, he had taken her innocence when he’d had no right to touch her, but he’d told her he was sorry and begged her to forgive him. He had rejected her girlish declaration of love as gently as he’d known how. If he’d been a real cad, he could have taken advantage of her time and again. But he’d cared about Deborah, and his stupidity in taking her just that one time h
ad made him heartsick.
But he had not ruined her life. It had been the other way around. She had almost ruined his a couple of months later by running to her daddy. Why had she done it? Had she hated him that much? Did she still hate him?
Carol glanced at her daughter. “Deborah, come join us. Mazie tells me dinner will be ready promptly at six-thirty.”
“She’s always punctual. Dinner’s at six-thirty every night,” Deborah said.
“She’s prepared Allen’s favorite. Meat loaf with creamed potatoes and green peas,” Carol said.
“Hey, pal, that’s my favorite, too.” Ashe elbowed Allen playfully in the ribs.
Allen leaned into Ashe, toppling the big man over onto the rug. Within seconds the two were wrestling around on the floor.
Deborah looked from father and son to her mother. Nervously she cleared her throat. When no one paid any heed to her, she cleared her throat again.
“Come sit down.” Carol gestured toward the tufted leather sofa. “Let the boys be boys. They’ll tire soon enough.”
When Deborah continued staring at Allen and Ashe rolling around on the floor, both of them laughing, Carol stood and walked over to her daughter.
“Allen needs a man in his life.” Carol slipped her arm around Deborah’s waist, leading her into the room. “He’ll soon be a teenager. He’s going to need a father more than ever then.”
“Hush, Mother! They’ll hear you.”
Carol glanced over at the two rowdy males who stopped abruptly when their roughhousing accidently knocked over a potted plant.
“Uh-oh, Allen, we’ll be in trouble with the ladies now.” Rising to his knees, Ashe swept up the spilled dirt with his hands and dumped it back into the brass pot.
“Don’t worry about it,” Carol said. “I’ll ask Mazie to run the vacuum over what’s left on the rug.”
Deborah glanced down at her gold and diamond wristwatch. “It’s almost six-thirty. I’ll check on dinner and tell Mazie about the accident with the plant.”
The moment Deborah exited the room, Allen shook his head, stood up and brushed off his hands. “What’s the matter with Deborah? She’s acting awful strange.”
“She’s nervous about the upcoming trial, but you know that, Allen.” Carol smiled, first at Allen and then at Ashe. “Our lives have been topsy-turvy for weeks now.”
“No, I’m not talking about that.” Allen nodded toward Ashe. “She’s been acting all goofy ever since Ashe showed up here today.” He turned to Ashe. “Nobody ever answered my question about whether you and Deborah used to be an item.”
“Allen—” Carol said.
“Deborah and I were good friends at one time.” Ashe certainly couldn’t say anything negative about his sister to the boy. “I’m four years older, so I dated older girls.”
“Deborah had a crush on Ashe for years,” Carol said.
When Ashe glanced at Carol, she stared back at him, her look asking something of him that Ashe couldn’t comprehend.
“She liked you, but you didn’t like her back?” Allen asked. “Boy, were you dumb. Deborah’s pretty and about the nicest person in the world.”
“Yeah, Allen, I was pretty dumb all right. I’m a lot smarter now.”
“Well, if Deborah gives you a second chance this time, you won’t mess things up, will you?” Allen looked at him with eyes identical to Deborah’s, the purest, richest blue imaginable.
“I’m not here to romance your sister,” Ashe said. “I’m here to protect her, to make sure—”
Carol cleared her throat; Ashe realized he was saying too much, that they wanted the boy protected from the complete, ugly truth.
“Ashe is here to act as Deborah’s bodyguard. You know, the way famous people have bodyguards to protect them from their overzealous fans. Well, Ashe is going to make sure the reporters and people curious about the trial don’t interfere with her life in any way.”
“The kids at school say Buck Stansell will try to kill Deborah if she tells in court what she saw that man do,” Allen said, looking directly to Ashe for an explanation. “Is that true?”
“No one is going to hurt Deborah while I’m around.” Ashe placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “And I’ll be here until after the trial, maybe a little longer.”
Carol Vaughn sighed. Ashe glanced at the doorway. Deborah had returned and was looking straight at him, her eyes filled with pain and fear and something indiscernible. Longing? Ashe wondered. Or perhaps the remembrance and regret of longing?
Deborah willed herself to be strong, to show no sign of weakness in front of Allen and her mother or in Ashe’s presence. She’d heard Ashe say that no one would hurt her while he was around. For one split second her heart had caught in her throat. He had sounded so determined, so protective, as if he truly cared what happened to her.
“Dinner is ready.” Damn, her voice shouldn’t sound so unsteady. She had to take control. “Is everything all right?”
“Fine,” Carol and Ashe said in unison.
Rushing across the room, Allen threw his arms around Deborah. “I’ll help Ashe protect you. You’ll have two men in your life now, and we’ll make sure nobody bothers you.”
Deborah hugged her son to her, threading her fingers through his thick blond hair. “I feel very safe, knowing that I have you two guys looking out for me.”
Carol Vaughn steered Allen and Ashe into the hall. “You two wash up and meet us in the dining room.” She slipped her arm around Deborah’s waist. “Come, dear.”
Carol managed to keep the conversation directed on Allen during the meal, telling Ashe about the boy’s exploits since early childhood. Deborah wished her mother didn’t have her heart set on reuniting them all. There was no way it would ever happen. She and Ashe didn’t even like each other. She certainly had good reason not to like Ashe, and it seemed he thought he had reason to dislike her.
“I told Mazie to save the apple pie for tomorrow night’s dinner,” Carol said. “Ashe brought us some of Mattie’s delicious homemade tea cakes.”
“I love Mama Mattie’s tea cakes,” Allen said.
Jerking his head around, Ashe stared at Allen. Had he heard correctly? Had Allen Vaughn referred to Ashe’s grandmother as Mama Mattie?
“Mattie insisted Allen call her Mama Mattie.” Carol laid her linen napkin on the table. “She said that she liked to think of Allen as a grandchild.”
Deborah strangled on her iced tea. Lifting her napkin to her mouth, she coughed several times. Her faced turned red. She glared at her mother.
“Let’s have Mazie serve the tea cakes in the library with coffee for us and milk for Allen.” Easing her chair away from the table, Carol stood.
Allen followed Carol out of the dining room, obviously eager for a taste of Mattie Trotter’s tea cakes. Deborah hesitated, waiting for Ashe. He halted at her side as he walked across the room.
“You look lovely tonight,” he said. What the hell had prompted that statement? He’d thought it, and made the remark before thinking.
“Thank you.”
She wore blue silk, the color of her eyes. And pearls. A lady’s jewel. Understated and elegant.
“We’ve tried to protect Allen from the complete truth,” she said. “He’s so young. And he and I are very close. He was only four when Daddy died, and he tries to be our little man.”
“He knows more than you think.” Ashe understood her need to protect the boy; on short acquaintance he felt an affinity with Deborah’s brother and a desire to safeguard him. “Anything made public, he’s bound to hear sooner or later. You’re better off being up front with him.”
“Just what do you know about ten-year-old boys?”
“I know they’re not babies, that a boy as smart as Allen can’t be fooled.”
“It’s not your place to make decisions where—”
The telephone rang. Deborah froze. Ashe wished he could erase the fear he saw in her eyes, the somber expression on her face. “Have you had your number cha
nged? Unlisted?”
“Yes.” She swallowed hard.
“It’s for you, Miss Deborah.” Mazie stood in the doorway holding the portable phone. “It’s Mr. Posey.”
Letting out a sigh, Deborah swayed a fraction. Ashe grabbed her by the elbow.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Deborah took the phone from Mazie, placed her hand over the mouthpiece and looked at Ashe. “Go ahead and join Mother and Allen in the library.”
“Neil Posey?” Ashe asked. “Has he changed any or do his buddies still call him Bozo?”
Deborah widened her eyes, glaring at Ashe as if what he’d said had been sacrilege. Go away. Now. She mouthed the words. Grinning, Ashe threw up his hands in a what-did-I-say gesture, then walked out of the room.
“Neil?”
“I thought perhaps you’d like to take a drive,” he said. “It’s such a lovely autumn night. We could stop by somewhere for coffee later.”
“Oh, that’s such a sweet thought, but I’m afraid… Well, tonight just isn’t good for me. We…that is, Mother has company tonight.”
“I see. I’m disappointed of course, but we’ll just make it another night.”
“Yes, of course.”
“See you tomorrow,” Neil said. “Yes. Tomorrow.” Deborah laid the phone down on the hall table.
Before she took three steps, the telephone rang again. She eyed it with suspicion. Don’t do this to yourself. Answer the damned thing. It’s not going to bite you.
“Hello. Vaughn residence.”
“Deborah?” the man asked.
“Yes.”
“Telling the sheriff what you saw was your first mistake. Testifying in court will be your last mistake.”
“Who is this?” Sheriff Blaylock had put a tap on their telephones, the one in her bedroom and the one in the library. Damn, why hadn’t she remembered not to answer the portable phone?
“This is someone concerned for your safety.”
“How did you get our number?” She gripped the phone with white-knuckled ferocity.
“Change it as many times as you want and we’ll still keep calling.”
Witness Page 4