“Bye-bye, Jamie,” Samantha said, chucking him beneath his chin, her reward a wide, happy grin. “I’ll call you the minute I get out of court,” she told Melissa.
“I’ll be here.”
Samantha started out the door, then turned back to Melissa. “Bill... It was all verbal, right? I mean, he never hurt you physically?”
Melissa stared at her sister, saw the torment that darkened her eyes and the slight curl of her upper lip, as if the entire subject was rather distasteful. “How could you even think such a thing?” she hedged, unsurprised to see the obvious relief that swept across Samantha’s face. “Now, get out of here. You don’t want to be late for court.”
When Samantha had gone, Melissa closed the door and reactivated the alarm system. She put Jamie down for a nap and thought about the lie she’d told. A lie of evasion, but a lie nevertheless.
Bill had been so good at hiding his physical abuse. A shove or a slap instead of fists, which might have left marks. And if there were marks or bruises, they were always in areas not visible unless she was practically naked.
What was the point of revealing the horrible details of her marriage now? Bill was dead. There would be no more pain.
Except the pain when Dominic left.
Her heart ached as if he’d already packed his bags and disappeared from her life. When he’d left that morning, she’d somehow known it wasn’t just physical distance separating them; he’d already begun to isolate himself from her emotionally.
And she was helpless to do anything but let him go. She loved him, but couldn’t make him love her enough to want to bind himself to her. She was a bad bet, a tarnished penny, a widow with baggage. He deserved so much more.
If he could find the answers that would give her back her life, it would be enough. It had to be.
Chapter 14
Dominic’s heart raced with the anticipation of answers. Betty Wardman, the postmistress, had been a veritable font of mostly useless information. He’d learned that Walter Craig, the old widower who lived on Main Street, had eyes for Gladys Canfield, the town librarian. He heard that Barbara Alden’s son had written his name in the freshly poured concrete in front of the grocery store, and that Betty’s daughter-in-law was nothing but a floozy who’d trapped her poor son into a loveless marriage.
Dominic had listened patiently as she’d rambled on about the town gossip until finally she’d returned to the original question he’d asked.
She’d told him Dano’s Photography Studio had been run by Stewart Dano. He lived alone in a rented room over the drugstore.
Thankfully, Dano was a man who seemed to remember every name of every customer he’d ever photographed in the three years he’d been in business. A short talk with the photographer had produced some of the elusive answers Dominic had sought.
The woman in the old wedding photo was Susan Newsom. Stewart had no idea where Susan was, but her mother lived alone in a small house on the north side of town.
It was early afternoon when Dominic pulled up in front of the neat, white-painted house and checked the address against the one Stewart had given him. They were the same.
Getting out of the car, he pulled the old photograph from his pocket. He had no idea what to expect here, hoped to discover that the woman in the picture was happily married with a half-dozen kids. He knew that was what Melissa wanted to hear—among other things.
A petite, white-haired woman answered his knock. “Yes?” Faded blue eyes met his.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I wonder if I could ask you a few questions.”
She frowned with suspicion. “You aren’t going to try and sell me anything, are you?”
“No, ma‘am. Can you tell me, is the woman in this photo your daughter?” He held out the picture.
She took it from him, her hand trembling slightly. She looked at it, emitted a soft gasp, then closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were no longer soft blue, but rather flashing with fire. “Yes. Yes, that’s my daughter...and the devil himself. Where did you get that picture?”
“We found it in a basement in Wilford. A...uh...a friend of mine married this man. He was going by the name of Bill Newman. I’m doing a little checking into his background for my friend.”
Her forehead furrowed in a frown. “You’d better come in, Mr...?”
“Dominic. Dominic Marcola.”
“And I’m MaryAnne Cook.” She stepped aside to allow him entry. The living room was neat and tidy, although the furniture showed signs of age and wear. She directed him toward the sofa. “Please, sit down. If I’m going to talk about that devil, I’d better be sitting.”
She eased herself into a chair across from him. “I knew one day we’d hear about William Newsom again. Like a bad penny, I knew he’d turn up. What did you say he’s calling himself nowadays?”
“Bill Newman. What can you tell me about him?”
Shaking her head, she seemed to grow smaller, her eyes once again fading with sadness. “He destroyed us.” The words, so stark, so simple, rang with an undeniable truth. “He met my Susie just after she’d been involved in a car wreck and had received a big insurance settlement. She was only eighteen, so young and foolish.” She clasped her trembling hands together in her lap. “You see, the car accident left her with a scar on her face. She was so self-conscious about it, but she told me William made her forget all about it. He made her feel so important, so beautiful. Within weeks of meeting him they were talking about getting married.”
She shook her head. “I told her to wait, to give it some time, but she wouldn’t listen. She thought she was in love.”
Dominic realized this story was just like Melissa’s. After years of living with an emotionally cold father, she’d been ripe to fall for a charismatic charmer. And apparently Susie, reeling from the scarring of a car accident, had been just as vulnerable.
“When did Susie and William divorce?” Dominic asked.
“Far as I know, they didn’t.” She looked at him curiously as he started in surprise. “I’d recommend that friend of yours check, ‘cause I suspect she married a bigamist. And if she has any money at all to call her own, she’d better hide it because he’ll take it all, just like he did Susie’s.”
“He took her insurance money?”
MaryAnne nodded. “Every last dime. And the last thing he did before he left here was take her mind.”
Dominic frowned, wondering if he’d understood correctly. “‘Took her mind’?”
MaryAnne shifted in the chair, one shaky hand reaching up to stroke across her brow. For a moment she was silent, her expression letting him know she was gathering unpleasant memories. “Almost immediately after the wedding, Susie became pregnant. I knew things weren’t right between them, but Susie insisted everything was fine.” MaryAnne’s hand moved from her brow to her heart. “But a mother knows. A mother knows when things aren’t right with her children.”
Dominic could feel her pain. It shone from her tired eyes, radiated from her petite body. For a moment, it seemed to consume all the air in the room. He wasn’t sure what to say, whether it was possible for him to say anything that would help ease some of her pain. He opted for silence.
She drew a deep breath and reclasped her hands in her lap. “When Susie was seven months pregnant, she and I were supposed to meet for lunch one day. I went to the restaurant and waited and waited. When an hour passed, I got worried. I went to William and Susie’s house and found her at the foot of the basement stairs, bleeding and half-conscious. When she came to in the hospital, she insisted she’d slipped and fallen on her own.” MaryAnne’s eyes narrowed. “But I think he pushed her.”
Dominic sat forward. “What makes you think so?”
“She always had red marks and bruises all over her. Oh, she tried to hide them, wore long sleeves and slacks. But he was beating her, I know he was.”
Dominic thought of the bruises he’d seen on Melissa and a cold knot of certainty materialized in his chest. She�
��d been abused by her husband. The man who had promised to love and cherish her had hit her, hurt her.
As he thought of Melissa’s silky flesh, the sweetness of her skin, then thought of Bill hitting her, slapping her, rage engulfed him. If Bill Newman hadn’t already been dead, Dominic would have made him wish he was.
“Did you ask Bill, uh, William about the fall?” Dominic asked.
She shook her head. “We never saw him again. He’d taken all the money and disappeared. Susie lost the baby and the will to live. She crawled inside herself where nobody can reach her, where nobody will ever be able to hurt her again.” For a long moment MaryAnne stared off into space, as if lost to her surroundings.
“Where is she now?”
MaryAnne jerked her gaze back to him, as if surprised by his presence. “She’s in a nursing home in Rainerville.”
Dominic had passed through the small town of Rainerville on his way here to Canon Creek. Rainerville was about halfway between Canon Creek and Wilford. “What is her prognosis?”
MaryAnne shrugged, looking far older than she had when Dominic had first arrived. “Nobody seems to know. She has good days and bad ones. He broke her spirit, and if you’re smart, you’ll get your friend away from him before he breaks hers, too.”
“William Newsom isn’t going to hurt anyone anymore. He’s dead.”
MaryAnne stared at him for a long moment. “I may go to hell for this, but I’m glad. He destroyed my family. Susie’s in a hospital, and her brother has been in mourning for her for years.”
“Her brother?” Before she answered, Dominic knew. He hadn’t made the connection until this moment. Dammit, he should have known. Signals should have gone off in his head the moment the old woman introduced herself. Neal Cook. Neal, who had taken a job with Bill six months ago. Neal, a man who must have hated Bill for devastating his family, breaking his sister.
“Neal and Susie were always close. But even he hasn’t been able to pull her out of her deep depression.”
An urgency filled Dominic. It pressed against his chest, suffocating him as he realized it was quite possible that Neal Cook had killed Bill. And as he thought of the tall, lanky man he’d chased—the man who’d grabbed Jamison from the grocery cart—he realized that had also probably been Neal.
“Could I use your phone?” he asked. He had to let Melissa know. He had to tell her that Neal Cook was dangerous. He didn’t know what on earth Neal would want with little Jamie, but he had to let Melissa know the man was a threat, to both her and her son.
Melissa stood at the back window, watching the birds eating at the feeders. She leaned closer as she saw the flash of red amid the green leaves. The male cardinal. He perched on a branch and Melissa knew if she opened her window, she would hear his distinctive song.
Where was the female? Melissa watched the trees carefully, seeking the less colorful mate of the scarlet male. Where was she? She had to be there...she had to be.
Pressing her forehead against the window, Melissa felt a kind of wild despair she knew in the back of her mind was inappropriate for the situation. But it was important to her that the redbirds be together, be a couple.
There. Melissa’s heart fluttered as the female appeared and together the two birds alighted on the feeder. Melissa relaxed, soothed by the very rightness of the scene.
If only there was a like scene for her. She watched for a moment longer, then turned away from the window, her heart heavy as her thoughts turned to Dominic.
Dominic, who would walk out of her life when he got home. He would take her heart with him, and she would do nothing to stop him from leaving. He deserved more than her, better than her.
Feeling the press of tears close to the surface of her eyes, she shook her head to dispel them, then went to the oven to check on the cake she had baking.
After Samantha had left and Jamison had gone down for his nap, she’d decided to bake a chocolate cake. Bill had hated chocolate. Looking into the oven, Melissa decided another three or four minutes and it would be done.
She’d just set the timer when the doorbell rang. She opened one of the kitchen drawers and took out the pistol Dominic had insisted she keep with her while he was gone. It was surprisingly lightweight and warm to her touch.
She tucked it into the pocket of the apron she wore and wondered if she would be able to actually use it. Could she shoot someone? As she thought of her baby soundly sleeping in his crib, she knew she could. If it came to protecting him—or herself—she could pull the trigger.
She hurried to the front door and peered out the peephole, instantly recognizing Neal Cook. She frowned, trying to decide what to do. He was probably here for another piece of vent pipe or some other spare part in the basement. She had the gun. Surely that would keep her safe from harm if Neal intended any.
She punched off the security and opened the door. “Hi, Neal, what can we do for you?”
“I’m sorry to bother, you, Mrs. Newman. Sam sent me over for some more vent. We’re doing a job over at the Wellsleys’, and we’re short a twelve-inch length.”
She nodded and opened the door to allow him inside. She pointed toward the basement door, then slid her hand into the apron, touching the gun reassuringly. “You can go on down and get what you need,” she said.
As he walked to the basement door, she relaxed somewhat. He disappeared down the stairs just as the oven timer dinged. Returning to the kitchen, Melissa told herself to relax. She couldn’t afford to give way to paranoia.
She pulled the cake out of the oven, pleased with the chocolate scent that wafted into the air. She inverted the cake onto a cooling rack, then went back to the top of the basement stairs.
“Neal? Did you find what you need?”
No answer. Not a sound floated up the stairs. She stood for another moment, listening. Still no indication that Neal was in the basement. She turned and saw the front door standing partway open. Apparently Neal had found what he’d come for and left. She closed the door and reset the alarm system, then went back into the kitchen.
After replacing the gun to the drawer, she went to the window. She stood looking out, thinking of her years with Bill, thinking of her nights with Dominic. In the space of two nights, of five weeks of sharing days, Dominic had managed to touch places in her heart she’d never offered to Bill.
What she’d believed to be love at eighteen years of age with Bill had been nothing more than infatuation for the first man who’d treated her with something other than the usual coldness and censure she’d received from her father. Bill had first offered her escape, then had trapped her in his prison, chipping away at her self-esteem, making her afraid of everything and everyone, making her feel utterly incompetent.
Dominic was different. And what she felt for him was like nothing she’d ever felt before. It was a love deep enough to let him go.
Like the parakeet she’d released, she knew she had to let Dominic walk out of her life, had to allow him the opportunity to find love with another woman, a better woman. One who didn’t face murder charges, one who didn’t have a baby from another man, a woman who had no scars on her soul.
She jumped as the phone rang. She answered, then closed her eyes as Dominic’s voice filled the line. “Everything okay there?” he asked.
“Fine. What about with you? Have you found out anything?”
“Plenty.” The single word was filled with an urgency that instantly set Melissa’s nerves on alert.
“What?” She gripped the phone cord tightly.
“I can’t go into it all right now, but I think I know who killed Bill.”
“Who?” Melissa held her breath.
“Neal Cook.”
The name shot through Melissa like an arrow, leaving an open wound of fear. “But—but he was just here. He came to get some vent pipe.”
“Where’s Jamie?”
The wound of fear bled terror. Melissa dropped the phone receiver and raced down the hallway toward the nursery. Please. Let him
be there. Let him be sleeping.... Safe...let him be safe.
She tore into the room and over to the crib. Empty. “Oh, God, no!” The protest ripped her throat raw as she grabbed up the blanket that had covered Jamie when she’d put him down for his nap.
She stumbled from the nursery, suffocating, gasping for air as she fought against hysteria. Her stomach ached, deep inside. Emptiness. Fear. Light-headedness. Nausea. She felt as if she were swimming against the tide when she staggered toward the kitchen where the phone dangled from the wall.
She grabbed up the receiver. “He’s gone, Dominic. God help me. He’s gone!” She broke into sobs.
Chapter 15
Dominic was playing a hunch. As he sped toward Rainerville, he prayed he was right, for a little boy’s life hung in the balance. If he’d had any doubts before about how he felt about Jamie, the thundering of his heart answered those questions now.
He loved the child. He loved Jamie as if he were his own. Dominic had delivered Jamie into the world. For the past five weeks he’d held the baby, fed him and whispered to him of dreams. He’d watched Jamie gain weight, smile, had felt the baby’s little fingers close around his thumb.
And in Dominic’s heart was where his fear thundered. Fear that he might play the wrong hunch, that he might be wrong in trying to anticipate what Neal intended to do with Jamie, and the end result would be precious time lost. At this thought, fear rose up in his throat, bringing with it a bad taste.
What if he’d guessed wrong? What if Neal intended to exact his final revenge on Bill by hurting his child? Dominic tightened his grip on the steering wheel, refusing to entertain such a scenario.
He pressed on the accelerator, unmindful of the fifty-five-mile-an-hour speed limit. According to Melissa, Neal only had a short head start. If, indeed, as Dominic suspected, he was going to the Rainerville Nursing Home, then Dominic intended to be there when Neal arrived.
He’d instructed Melissa to call Detective Mawlins and have him meet Dominic at the nursing home. Although Rainerville was out of Mawlins’s jurisdiction, Dominic wanted the detective there when Dominic confronted Neal about Bill’s death.
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