“I might have a few bucks to invest,” Regan told him. “I don’t have a lot of time to put into a new venture right now, but I will down the road. And I could design the labels for your bottles when the time comes.”
“All right. My first investor.” T.J. turned to Mitch. “How ’bout you? You in?”
“I might be. I’d like to look at your prospectus first.”
“Well, that’s where Lorna comes in.” He touched her arm. “You want to make it a four-way partnership?”
“I already have a business,” she reminded him.
“Exactly. We’ll need a good CPA. You can be our moneyman.”
“I’ll consider it.”
“It’ll be a good way for you to work off my bill for the past ten days.” T.J. grinned. “And it’s a big one. My time is not cheap.”
“We’ll see what we can work out,” she replied.
“This is great. We’re going to be business partners,” Regan noted. “So what do we call this vineyard?”
“Lavender Hill,” Lorna said without thinking.
“What?” T.J. asked. “Where did that come from?”
“Oh. Sorry. We can come up with something, I’m sure.”
“I like Lavender Hill,” Regan told her.
“It’s the original name of the farm. Over the years, everyone started referring to it as Palmer’s farm. I found the old sign in the barn when I was a kid, and my grandmother told me about how, when her grandparents moved here, the hill out back was all wild lavender.”
“Lavender Hill Wines.” T.J. nodded. “I like it. Mitch?”
Mitch nodded. “Absolutely.”
“So there we are. We have a business. We have a name for it.” T.J. tilted his bottle. “We’re in the wine business. At the very least, the grape business. Or will be, by this time next year.”
“That’s going to be some commute, Dawson, if you’re planning on staying in Baltimore,” Mitch pointed out.
“That house is sold, so I have to look for a new place, anyway. When I was driving into Callen earlier today, I saw a house for rent out on Conway Road. I wrote down the Realtor’s number, so I can give him a call in the morning.”
“I’m glad I didn’t stay an extra day in Chicago,” Regan noted. “Look what I would have missed.”
“Hey, what did you find out about Eddie Kroll while you were out there?” Mitch asked.
“Not much.” Regan frowned. “It’s really odd. I know he existed, I have his report cards. But it seems he just vanished when he was around thirteen or so.”
“Maybe he died,” Lorna suggested.
“I went back through the parish records, but I couldn’t find a notice of his death or that he’d transferred out of school. Midway through his freshman year in high school, he simply disappeared.”
“Well, so much for that.” Mitch grabbed another crab from the pile.
“No, I’m going to find out who he was. If for no other reason than to satisfy myself. Much like Lorna’s quest to find her old friend. I want to know where Eddie Kroll went, and why my father had his old report cards.”
“Did you hear a car?” Lorna frowned, and looked out the window.
“It’s Chief Walker.” Lorna excused herself. “I’ll be right back.”
She went through the dining room and out the front door and stood on the steps with her hands on her hips, watching the black-and-white turn around in her drive. When the car came to a stop, she walked to it.
The chief lowered the window on the passenger side and asked, “How are you doing, Lorna?”
“I’m doing fine. Thanks.”
“Just wanted to stop by, see how you are. And to tell you… well, I just want you to know how glad I am that nothing worse happened to you. And that I’m sorry for… well, sorry there was bad blood there for a while.”
Lorna nodded. “Apology accepted. Don’t give it another thought.”
“I ran into Fritz at the Quik Stop. His friend is in town, he said they’d be stopping out to see you. Seems like a nice guy, this friend of his.”
“I’m sure he is.”
“Mike lawyered up real fast-he’s filing motions right and left. It’s going to be months before the DA can get that show on the road.”
“Isn’t that pretty much what you’d expected?” Lorna asked. “Did anyone expect him to confess?”
“Oh, one other thing. That name you asked me about…”
“Claude Raymond Fleming.”
“Right. I asked around, found out his sister, Joanne, lived over in Arnold. She died a few years back, cancer.”
“Fleming’s sister lived in Arnold?” Lorna felt a stab of recognition. Then she asked, even though she was pretty sure she knew the answer, “What was her last name?”
“Porter. Her married name was Porter. Didn’t know if you still wanted the information, but thought I’d pass it on to you, all the same.”
“Thanks, Chief. I’m glad you did.” She stepped back from the car and waved, and he said good-bye as he drove past her. She stood in the driveway for a moment, then went back into the house.
“There’s something I have to do,” Lorna told her guests as she searched for her car keys. She found them on the counter, then looked for her handbag, which she found in the dining room, the strap looped over a chair. “You stay and finish your dinner, I’ll be back in a little while.”
T.J. had followed her into the dining room.
“Where are you going? What did Walker say that has you running out the door?”
“He told me that Claude Raymond Fleming’s sister lived in Arnold. Her name was Joanne Porter.” She searched her bag for her sunglasses. “As in Danielle Porter.”
“Danielle’s mother? So Claude Fleming is Danielle’s uncle?”
“Apparently. Now, why do you suppose she would have run to the phone to call him the minute she closed the door on us?”
“Good question,” he agreed. “I’ll come with you.”
“No, thanks. I think she’s more likely to talk to me if I’m alone.”
“What are you hoping to find?”
“She knows about Melinda, T.J. I’m sure she does. And I’m not going to let it go until I find out what really happened to Mellie.”
Lorna parked her car alongside Danielle’s double-wide and got out. She walked to the front door and knocked until it opened.
Danielle stood in the doorway. When she saw Lorna, she stepped outside and closed the door behind her.
“What now?” Danielle asked.
“I give up. What’s the connection?” Lorna asked.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Danielle turned to open the door and Lorna stuck out an arm to stop her.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Melinda Eagan. Where is she?”
“What does it matter, after all these years? Just leave it, and get on with your life.”
“Melinda was my best friend. I need to know what happened to her. Her mother needs to know.”
“Her?” Danielle scoffed. “Her mother doesn’t give a shit about her and never did. Beat the crap out of Melinda and Jason every chance she got. She didn’t deserve them then, and she doesn’t deserve Mellie now.”
“Billie’s changed a lot over the years, she isn’t the woman she used to be.”
“That doesn’t make up for what she did to them. Sorry.” Danielle opened the door and stepped inside the double-wide.
“She’s really a different woman. Oh, please don’t close the door. Listen to me, Billie has spent the last twenty-five years regretting everything that happened between her and her kids.”
“Too little, too late,” Danielle said, glaring at her from the doorway. “Tell it to someone who gives a shit. A woman treats her kids that way, she deserves to lose them.”
“That’s not your decision to make.”
“It sure as hell isn’t yours.” The door was all but closed.
“If you talk to Mellie, tell her… tell her that
I never forgot her. That I never stopped missing her and that she was the best friend I ever had.” The door made a little puff sound as it closed.
“And tell her she can find me easily enough, if she ever wants to,” Lorna added, loud enough to be heard from inside, before she walked away.
She got into her car and backed out of the drive, tears spilling down her face, saddened to know that, after all these years, her friend was still out of reach.
The good news was that now she knew for certain Melinda was still alive.
23
“Hey! Tall, sweaty guy!” Lorna called to T.J. from the end of the first row of trellises. When he turned around, she tossed him a bottle of water, and he caught it in one hand.
“Nice catch,” she told him. She gestured toward the section he’d been weeding. “Looking good.”
“These tall thorny things are murder to get out of the ground. There must be a million of them.” He took the top off the bottle and drank deeply. “Thanks for the water.”
“They’re some kind of thistle, I think.”
“They’re a pain in the ass by any name.” He mopped his forehead with the back of his forearm.
“You still determined to clear all this out before the frost hits?”
He nodded. “I will get it all cleared before the frost hits. Then, when spring comes around, I’ll be ready to put in my vines.”
“After having spent the winter months studying up on grapes and other related topics.”
“By this time next year, I’ll be conversant in all things grape. Types, soil requirements, pests-I will positively dazzle you with my knowledge.”
“I’m looking forward to being dazzled.”
He took off the heavy gloves he’d been wearing to weed out the worst of the overgrowth, and walked to the end of the row.
“Are you sure you won’t miss the excitement of law enforcement?” She watched him approach, her hands on her hips.
“I’ve had about all the excitement from that quarter that one lifetime can handle, thanks.”
“Even though the FBI’s still after you to re-up?”
“They’re wasting their time. I keep telling them that I’ll never go back. I don’t know what more I can say.” He took another drink from the bottle.
“Maybe someday you’ll trust me enough to tell me about that,” she said softly.
“What do you want to know?”
“What happened to make you lose confidence in yourself?”
“Oh. That. That’s an easy one,” he said matter-of-factly. “Teddy Kershaw. Lakeview, Georgia.”
“Who’s Teddy Kershaw?”
“Was,” he said with emphasis. “Who was Teddy Kershaw is the question.”
“Okay. Who was he?”
“He was a serial killer. I’d been asked to develop a profile for the local PD. Which I did.” He stared at the ground.
“And?”
“And it was dead wrong. Well, not completely wrong. It was right, for the most part. I just got the most immediate part wrong.”
“Which was?”
“I told the cops the perp had to be Caucasian. All the vics had been white-white victims, white killer. Everybody knows that serial killers only target victims within their own race.” He shook his head. “How arrogant on my part, eh? Like I knew it all.”
“What happened?”
“Well, when the cops got a report of a man who’d been seen hanging around the neighborhood of three of the victims, I told them not to waste their time. ‘The guy described by the neighbors is African-American. Our serial killer is Caucasian.’ ”
He scuffed at the ground with the toe of his shoe, kicked a clod of dirt aside.
“So, armed with the gospel according to Saint Thomas Dawson, the Lakeview cops ignore the calls and keep on looking for this theoretical white killer. Three more women died before they caught Teddy. A black man. The same black man the cops had been alerted to ten days before.”
T.J.’s face had gone white under his tan. “Does that answer your question?”
“How many times had you been right?”
He brushed her off. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is that my know-it-all attitude cost three women their lives.”
“I’m sure you didn’t-”
“Didn’t mean to screw up? Tell that to the families of those three women.”
“T.J., I’m so sorry.”
“I’ll be sorry for the rest of my life. But I’ll never go back to the Bureau. I don’t even know why they’d want me.”
“Mitch says you’re really good.”
“Mitch is my friend. He has to say that.” He took one more drink, draining the bottle, then pitched it in the direction of the weed pile. “The bottom line is, I was responsible for the loss of innocent lives. I can’t change that, no matter how many times I wish I could go back to the moment I told the cops to ignore the reports. I have to live with that. But I won’t go back to the Bureau. I can find something else to do with my life.” He paused. “I have found something else to do with my life, and I like it. I like the physical work, I like the idea of growing something good, making something people will enjoy. That the end result of my hard work will be something tangible. I like that we’re doing this, the four of us.”
“I don’t know how much time the other two will have to devote to it after awhile. Mostly it’s going to be you and me.”
“Even better.” He smiled. Then, changing the subject, he asked, “How long do you think you’ll be in Woodboro?”
“Four days, at the most. I need to get back here as soon as possible. Remember, my brother will be coming home next week for the first time in years. I want to make sure the house is in order.”
“If there’s anything you want me to do while you’re gone, just say the word.”
“I will, thanks. It’ll be interesting to see how Rob feels, now that Mike Keeler is in jail and he doesn’t have that weight of secrecy around his neck. When I spoke with him the other night, he sounded really happy to be coming back. So I’d like his room freshened, that sort of thing. I can save some of the packing at my apartment for another trip, but I can’t put off the meetings I’ve set up with my clients. I need to tell them about the change in address and assure them that the service will remain the same high quality as always.”
“You’ll let me know if you need help packing things?”
“I should be fine on that score. My friend Bonnie will be over to help me sort through stuff and pack up the car. What furniture I don’t sell, I can have brought back by a small moving van. I don’t expect any problems.” She sighed. “You know, when I left here, I never thought I’d want to come back to live. Then after I got home, I didn’t want to leave. In spite of all the craziness-the bodies in the field, being shot at in the wine cellar, almost killed-I realized this really is my home. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to live anywhere else.”
“Funny, I’m starting to feel the same way.” He kissed the side of her mouth.
“I know you can do better than that, Dawson.”
He laughed and kissed her again, keeping her at arm’s length.
“Like you said,” he pointed out, “I am one tall, sweaty man. But I do clean up real good.”
“Well, clean up later, because Regan and Mitch will be along any minute. They’re both looking forward to working in the vineyard this weekend. I told Regan it was dirty work and there were thorns and bugs everywhere, but she said, ‘Cool. I can’t wait.’ ”
“We’ll see how long she lasts.”
“Don’t underestimate her. She’s a tough cookie. I could tell you some stories…”
The sound of a car door slamming near the barn drew their attention.
“I guess they’re here,” T.J. said. “Were they driving up together?”
“I don’t…” Lorna watched a dark-haired woman get out of the car and look around. “That’s not Regan. I’ll go see.”
As soon as Lorna got within fifty feet of the
car, she knew exactly who her visitor was.
She stopped dead in her tracks and stared.
Melinda Eagan had grown tall and willowy, and was quite stylish in black pants and a short-sleeved white top. She had gold at her ears and on her wrists, and a gold and diamond wedding set on the ring finger of her left hand.
“Lori?” Melinda took a few tentative steps toward her.
“Mel. Oh, my God, Melinda. You really are alive.” Lorna walked toward her, both hands reaching out. “You really are here.”
“I’m sorry,” Melinda whispered as she took Lorna’s hands. “I’m so sorry for what I must have put you through all these years.”
“I’m just glad you’re safe. You’re alive.” Lorna squeezed Melinda’s hands. Both women began to tear up.
Melinda smiled. “You grew up to be so pretty.”
“So did you.”
“I heard about everything that happened here. About Jason.” Her eyes reflected her sorrow. “I wasn’t surprised to hear what happened to him. I was only surprised that she hadn’t done it.”
“Mellie, how did you do it?” Lorna asked. “How did you manage to disappear without a trace for all those years?”
“Easier than you’d think. Once I found out about my father…”
“What about your father? I thought he left when you were a year old?”
“Buddy Eagan was not my father.”
Lorna’s jaw dropped.
“Hey, no one was more surprised than I was. I had no idea. I simply thought he didn’t care about us and left, like my mother told us. When Danielle approached me at school at the end of third grade and started saying things like how she was my cousin and I didn’t know who my real daddy was, I thought it was just an older girl doing something to tease one of the little kids. When she asked me if I wanted to go to her house to meet him, I got real curious, and I went, thinking it was basically her being goofy.”
She crossed her arms over her chest.
“It wasn’t a hoax. It seems my mother had had an affair with Claude Fleming and I was the result. She told him, but he wasn’t about to go up against Buddy over it, so he left town, moved to Lancaster. I guess it began to bother him, though, knowing he had a child in Callen that he didn’t even know. Years later, after he’d married and started a family, he told his wife about me. She thought he ought to know his child, so she encouraged him to find me. When he found out that Danielle and I went to the same school, he asked her to get to know me a little. Then she told me she’d heard her mother and her uncle talking about me being his daughter. The next thing I knew, I was seeing him on weekends at Danielle’s house. He wanted me to meet his wife and kids, so I figured, why not. I started spending weekends in Lancaster -oh, my mother thought I was at Danielle’s, but she didn’t really care where I was, as long as I wasn’t in her hair. Anyway, that’s how I met my dad, and my stepmother.”
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