Behind the Mask (MIRA)

by Metsy Hingle

  “You didn’t,” she said.

  But Michael knew that wasn’t true. Maybe he hadn’t embarrassed her, but he had made her uncomfortable, which was one more part of the puzzle of Lily, aka Elisabeth Webster, that didn’t make any sense. Why would having a man compliment her looks—something she’d surely heard hundreds of times—make her so uneasy?

  “Now that we’ve established he’s trustworthy, why don’t you give him the address, hon?” Gina prompted.

  Lily wrote down the address on a sheet from her order pad. She tore the paper off and handed it to him. “I don’t know Mrs. Davis’s phone number offhand but she’s listed. You can call her and talk to her about the place.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it,” Michael said as he tucked the slip of paper into his shirt pocket. “I’ll swing by when I leave here and take a look at the outside then give Mrs. Davis a call and see if I can set up an appointment to look at the inside.”

  “You know, those old shotgun doubles are really just one big house split down the middle. The layouts are identical on both sides. You could probably take a look at Lily’s place if you want to get an idea of what the inside looks like,” Gina suggested. “She’ll be clocking out of here in another ten minutes or so. Maybe you should just follow her home.”

  “Sounds good to me. But I wouldn’t want to put Lily out,” Michael offered.

  “Actually, I’m not going straight home when I leave here,” Lily told him. “My car has been acting up again and I’ve made plans to drop it off at the dealership. Sorry.”

  Liar, Michael thought, but he decided not to push it. “Thanks anyway,” he said, tossing some bills down on the table to cover the check.

  Lily scooped them up, along with the check, and said, “I’ll get you your change.”

  “Keep it,” he told her.

  “Thanks,” Lily said. “And good luck.”

  When she walked away, he turned to Gina, who was still standing beside the table. “And thank you, pretty lady.”

  “For what?”

  “For letting me know about the rental.”

  “You’re welcome,” Gina told him, a twinkle in her dark eyes.

  “Why do I get the feeling that you’re playing matchmaker?”

  “Because I am.”

  “Why?”

  Gina laughed. “It’s simple. I like you. And I like Lily. I also think the girl’s too young to spend the rest of her life mourning a dead man. She needs someone to shake her up, remind her what it’s like to be a woman.”

  “And you think I’m the one to do it?” Michael countered.

  “Sugar, if you can’t, then I’m gonna stop looking for a husband and go enter the convent.”

  Michael laughed. He caught Gina by the shoulders and kissed her right on the mouth. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, ma’am.”

  “Oh my,” she said, her eyelashes fluttering when he released her. “You do that, and the girl’s toast.”

  He grinned. “Let’s hope you’re right, because I’m certainly going to give it the old Boy Scout try.”

  Since he’d never been a Boy Scout, he had no intention of trying to resurrect Elizabeth Webster’s love life, Michael admitted. Exiting the diner, he reminded himself that the lady was his meal ticket and nothing more. That meant finding out if she still had the kid. Once he did that, he would notify Webster. And then he’d forget all about Elisabeth Webster.

  Seven

  Lily sat at the computer terminal in the public library and pulled up a series of newspaper articles. After rereading the initial article she had seen six months ago, recounting the death of a man whose body had been found on the Florida beach and believed to be the victim of a shark attack, she scanned the follow-up pieces.

  The man had been identified as Gregory Carter, age thirty-eight, and an employee of the federal government for fifteen years. For the past five years he’d worked in the office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and had been assigned to an office in Miami at the time of his death. A subsequent article reported the autopsy findings had revealed the man had not died from the shark attack, but from a knife wound to the heart. Other than the obituary and a statement by a spokesperson for the FBI named Bryce Logan, in which a reward had been offered for any information leading to an arrest in the man’s death, she could find no further references. Grabbing a piece of paper, she jotted down Logan’s name and the number listed in the article and tucked it in her purse.

  Lily stared at the photo of Carter again, remembering the night she had come downstairs late to check on Timmy and had heard the sound of arguing coming from Adam’s office. She had ventured down the forbidden hall to see if she could determine what was wrong. When the office door had suddenly opened, she’d caught a glimpse of Carter—his mouth bloodied, his eyes wild. She’d gasped, and at the sound, Adam had shut the door at once. He’d been furious with her, refusing to answer her questions and insisting she go back to bed. But she hadn’t been able to forget the terror written on Carter’s face. When she’d seen the article and his photo in the paper, she’d known immediately that Adam had been responsible for his death.

  After another search of the periodicals, she could find no mention of any link between Adam and Carter. Other than a piece detailing the opening of Adam’s newest nightclub in the West Palm Beach area, she could find nothing more on either of them.

  Not for the first time, Lily wondered if it had been Gregory Carter who had supplied Adam with the disk that contained the information on the federal agents. While she’d suspected that Adam’s nightclubs had not been the true source of his income, she’d never known for sure. And Adam had been adamant that she not question him about his business. Now, when she thought back about how she’d blinded herself to Adam’s true nature for so long, remaining safe in the pretty cage he’d built for her, she couldn’t help feeling ashamed.

  As she shut off the terminal and prepared to leave the library, Lily thought about the disk again. She’d known it had to be important. Otherwise Adam wouldn’t have kept it in his safe. She’d learned early in their marriage that his study and the safe in it was where he kept his secrets. But what she hadn’t realized when she’d taken the disk was that it would contain a list with the names and photos of federal agents working undercover in a sting of some kind, aimed at drug and prostitution traffic in the Florida nightclub scene. It had been her insurance. Her only line of defense if Adam should ever get his hands on Timmy.

  Lily thought about the slip of paper with Agent Logan’s phone number in her purse. While the authorities hadn’t linked Adam to Carter’s death, the disk would. After all, she had seen the man in Adam’s home and she had taken the disk from his safe. If she were to turn it over to the FBI, it might contain enough evidence for them to arrest Adam. And if he were in prison, then she and Timmy would be safe from him.

  But what if Carter wasn’t Adam’s mole in the FBI office? Or what if he had more than one? What if she were to go to the Bureau, tell them what she knew and turn the disk over only to have Adam find out before they could arrest him? If by doing so, could she and her son finally be free to lead a normal life? Would it be worth the risk?

  As Lily came through the library entrance and started down the steps, she noted the row of telephones. She hesitated a moment then, before she lost her nerve, she dug out the slip of paper and placed the call.

  “Logan.”

  Lily held her breath a moment when she was finally connected to the agent she’d requested. She pressed a hand to her throat, tried to steady her fast-beating heart. “Mr. Logan,” she finally managed to get out. “I…I’m calling for a friend. She has some information about the death of one of your employees. A Mr. Gregory Carter.”

  “To whom am I speaking?”

  “I’d rather not say,” Lily said.

  “If you or your friend are interested in the reward, I’ll have to have a name.”

  “I’m not…interested in the reward, I mean. And neither is my friend. I, t
hat is, my friend, just wants to see justice done.”

  “All right,” Logan told her. “Why don’t you tell me about this information?”

  Lily explained quickly that this man had been seen with her friend’s husband and the friend had come across some confidential information that identified a number of undercover federal agents. “If my friend were to send you this information, could you use it to arrest her husband and put him in jail?”

  “I’m afraid we’d need more than that. We’d need your friend to testify that she’d seen Carter with her husband, and that her husband had been in possession of the data.”

  “She can’t testify,” Lily insisted. The idea of facing Adam in a courtroom, allowing him to know where she and Timmy were, terrified her.

  “Then we would have no grounds to arrest him.”

  Lily hesitated. “If she agreed to testify, could you guarantee her husband would go to jail?”

  “That would be up to a jury, ma’am. The prosecutors would certainly do their best to build a solid case against him, and they could place your friend in protective custody.”

  “But you can’t guarantee he’ll go to jail, can you?” Lily asked.

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Thank you, Agent Logan.”

  “Ma’am? Ma’am, don’t hang up,” Logan said. “If your friend knows her husband was involved in a murder and she has information linking him to the crime, she has to come forward.”

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  “Then she could be charged with withholding evidence and possibly even aiding and abetting. If you’ll tell me where you are and how to reach your friend—”

  Lily hung up the phone. My God, she thought. Not only would turning over the disk not guarantee Adam would be sent to jail, but she could very well find herself charged with a crime. Disheartened, she tore the slip of paper in half and dumped it in the stone ashtray near the entrance to the library. Then she descended the steps and headed toward her car, unaware that she was being watched.

  Michael sat slouched in the seat of his truck and watched Lily as she walked toward her car. He noted that she’d carried no books with her when she’d entered the library nearly two hours ago and that she carried none when she’d left. Since he doubted he could find out what she’d been looking for at the library, he opted to try the phone instead. Exiting his truck, he made his way toward the row of pay phones, stopping en route at the ashtray into which Lily had tossed something when she’d left. He retrieved the torn and crumpled pieces of paper from the sand and cigarette butts and then he went over to the telephone Lily had used a few moments before.

  As he’d suspected, the antiquated phones didn’t sport redial buttons and the chances of getting an operator to redial the number she’d just called were slim to none. Smoothing out the fragments of paper, he pieced it together. “Logan.” he read the name aloud before dialing the number listed.

  “Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

  Surprised, Michael asked, “Do you have an Agent Logan working there?”

  “One moment, please.”

  A few seconds later, a man answered, “Agent Logan.”

  Michael hung up the phone.

  Now, why would Lily be calling the FBI? he wondered as he started down the stairs of the library. Once he was inside his Bronco, he whipped out his cell phone and placed a call to his brother. After getting a voice mail at Travis’s office, he tried calling him at home. When the answering machine kicked on, he said, “Hey, Trav, it’s Michael. I’m in New Orleans working on a case and came across the name of an agent out of the Florida office. I’d like to run his name by you and see if there’s anything you can tell me about him. Give me a call back on my cell phone,” he instructed, and left the number.

  But Michael didn’t hear from his younger brother that day, or the next day or the next. Upon subsequent calls to his office, he’d been able to find out that Travis was away on assignment. Michael cursed himself for not keeping in closer touch or making sure he had Travis’s current cell phone number. While he considered calling his parents’ home to request it, he decided to wait and continue to track Lily’s movements.

  Since he’d detected that his presence made her jumpy, Michael hadn’t returned to the diner at all that week. He had, however, continued to monitor Lily. But so far he had not seen the little boy. He recalled his last conversation with Webster and still wasn’t sure why he hadn’t told the man he had found his wife. If he had, Webster could have met him in New Orleans and, once he’d directed him to Lily, he could have collected his money and walked away.

  But he still hadn’t found the boy, Michael reasoned as he followed Lily from the diner. His agreement was to find both Webster’s wife and his son.

  Like clockwork, Lily returned to the small uptown cottage she visited each day. Michael had learned that the place belonged to Anna Gertrude Boudreaux, the grandmother’s former neighbor. And despite following Lily to the Boudreaux woman’s house and then to her own place every day, he had yet to see any signs of the little boy.

  Michael parked his truck a block away, making sure that he had a view of the Boudreaux woman’s front door. He watched Lily enter the house, and then he shut off the engine. Slouching down in his seat, he pulled his cowboy hat low on his forehead and prepared to wait for the next several hours.

  “So what do you say, big guy? You ready to come home? Mommy sure has missed you this past week.”

  “Miss you, too,” Timmy told her, and gave her a big hug.

  Lily scooped her son up in her arms, held him close and breathed in his baby scent. When she continued to hug him, Timmy began to squirm. Reluctantly, she put him down and said, “Guess what? Since you’ve been such a good boy, Mommy has a present for you.”

  “Present?” Timmy repeated, his facing lighting up.

  Lily dug into the tote bag she’d placed on the kitchen table and withdrew the little car she’d purchased for her son. Stooping down, she handed it to him. “Here you go.”

  Timmy grabbed the bright red car from her.

  “What do you say when someone gives you a gift?” she prompted.

  “Tank you,” Timmy said dutifully and gave her a smacking kiss before settling down on the tile floor to play with his new toy.

  When she stood again, she told Gertie, “I can’t thank you enough for taking care of him like this. I know I’ve said it a hundred times, but it’s true. I really don’t know what I would have done without you, Gertie. I just wish you’d let me pay you something for helping us.”

  “Don’t go insulting me by offering me money again. Lord, when I think of all the times your grandmother Sara helped me out, I could watch that little scamp of yours for the next twenty years and never repay her.”

  “She loved you,” Lily told her. “Grandma always said you were the sister she never had.”

  “And I felt the same way about her. Watching after that little one of yours is the least I can do.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. The truth is he’s been a joy to have around—even sick with those nasty chicken pox. You’ve done a fine job with him, Lily.”

  “Thank you,” Lily said, pleased by the compliment. Considering all that he’d been through, it amazed her that Timmy was such a happy and good-natured child.

  “The truth is, I’ve gotten used to having him stay here. I’m afraid this house is going to seem empty tonight without him now.”

  “I know what you mean. I don’t think I’ve had a decent night’s sleep since he’s been gone,” Lily confessed. The weather had been atrocious all week—rainy and cold one day, sunshine and warm temperatures the next. The decision to leave Timmy with Gertie while he was suffering with the worst of the chicken pox instead of shuffling him back and forth in the unpredictable weather had been the right one, she conceded. But it hadn’t been easy being away from her son. And although Gertie had offered her the couch, she’d known having both her and Timmy underfoot would have been an even gr
eater imposition on the older woman. “I swear, I don’t think I’m ever going to let him spend another night away from me until he gets married,” she joked.

  Gertie frowned. “You’re too young a woman to talk like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you don’t ever expect to marry again, maybe have more children.”

  “I don’t,” Lily informed her. Aware of Timmy playing just a few feet away, she lowered her voice. “I have Timmy. He’s all that I want or need.”

  Gertie shook her head. “You feel that way now because you had a rough time of it with that man you were married to. But not all men are like him. You’re still a young woman, Lily. Too young to shut yourself off from the world the way you do. Someday you’ll meet someone else.”

  For a moment, an image of Michael Sullivan’s face came to mind, surprising her. Just as quickly she dismissed it. Probably because Gina had asked her whether or not he’d come by to check out the place next to hers, she reasoned. As far as she knew, he hadn’t. And he hadn’t been back to the diner, for which she was grateful. “I don’t want to meet anyone else.”

  “Well, you should. You deserve more. And so does that boy of yours.”

  “Timmy and I have each other. We don’t need anyone else,” Lily insisted. She didn’t expect Gertie to understand. How could she? The woman had outlived two husbands and both of her marriages had been happy. Whereas her own marriage to Adam had left her feeling worthless, nothing more than a pretty bauble to be dressed up and shown off, a vessel for Adam’s lust. While she had known others had envied her lifestyle and Adam’s seeming devotion, she’d felt like an animal locked in a cage. Never again did she want to experience that feeling.

  “If you’d let me help you, lend you the money to hire a good lawyer, you could file for divorce and—”

  “Gertie, now’s not the time for this discussion,” Lily warned. She knew her friend meant well, but there was no way she could ever tell Gertie the full details of why she’d left Adam. She’d already told her more than she should and, in doing so, she worried that she’d exposed the older woman to potential danger.