Your father has a sister named Celeste. I know I should have told you, but you know how you get any time I mention him. I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t face telling you the truth. You are Celeste’s birth child, but I’m your mother. I raised you. You are my child. She gave you up, but I wanted you.
Her hand flew to her mouth in a futile attempt to prevent her grief from spilling out, but a sob broke free anyway, wrenching her whole body with the pain she’d known was coming and couldn’t stop. She pushed the hurt back down, not yet ready to give in to it.
You have a twin brother she named James. She told me that she could only keep one of you, and she decided to keep the boy. I begged her not to give you up for adoption, but she said she couldn’t manage to raise both of you, so I begged Burt to take you in. He resented you for that when he should have resented me for forcing him into something he didn’t want to do. The man was never meant to be a father. It wasn’t your fault he never wanted you.
Her vision blurred, so she wiped her eyes, desperately needing to finish reading her mother’s last words to her, wanting to find a little comfort for the hard truth Mary had revealed. Surely, her mother had left her with something to relieve the pain.
I’m sorry about what happened in the garage that day. I tried to stop him, but he was so angry he couldn’t be stopped. I feared if I interfered it would make it worse. You didn’t deserve what you got.
Sometimes I wonder if your strange attraction to Rand has something to do with the way your father treated you. Please, I beg of you to think about what you’re doing with your life. Rand is no good. One of these days, something bad will happen, and your momma won’t be there to help you. Leave him before it’s too late. He told me
The letter ended. Mary had obviously been unable to finish it. The paper fluttered out of Laurel’s hand and drifted to the floor.
As if a film projector flashed the scene across the room onto the far wall, the memory pulled up out of the deep recesses of her psyche unbidden, uncalled-for, unwanted, and yet unstoppable. She saw herself as a young child opening an armoire, searching through the drawers, as only a curious young child would do. She saw herself playing with the contents, blissfully ignorant to her offense.
She opened the drawer and found the pictures of the pretty lady and two small children. Suddenly, a dark force loomed behind her, blocking the waning light from the open doorway.
“What are you doing in here?” her father bellowed.
She didn’t understand his rage. What had she done that was so terrible? It wasn’t like the time she’d spilled her cereal on the floor, or the time she’d wet her pants when he yelled at her. This time she feared for her life.
“You have no right to dig into things that don’t concern you.”
“What did I do wrong, Daddy?”
She didn’t understand the level of his wrath. His reddened face scared her. She backed up a step. She’d never seen him so angry.
“I told you to never take that tone with me, Laurel,” he screamed.
He grabbed the pictures from her hands and crammed them back into the armoire drawer. The next few minutes were filled with slaps, kicks, and punches. And then suddenly, he stopped. Without a word, he left, slamming the garage door behind him.
His angry voice penetrated the walls. “I told you she would be trouble. This is your fault, Mary.”
Her mother’s sobs filtered between the cracks. Shame filled Laurel because she’d made her mother cry.
“Laurel, what’s the matter?”
The alarm in Chase’s voice pulled her back to the present.
Three pictures stared up at her from the floor, the pictures she had found in the armoire in her father’s garage so many years ago. The same woman. The same children. When had she dropped them? When had she picked them up? She fell to her knees, her limbs weak, her hands trembling, staring at the photographs. If she touched them, it would make her fears real and she couldn’t deny the truth any longer. She pointed at the images, gulping down a sob, unable to push a reasonable explanation for her meltdown past her tight throat.
“Who are they?” His voice shook as if he already knew the answer. But how could he?
“My mother and my brother and me.” Her voice sounded flat and leaden. “Celeste is my mother and James is my brother, my twin.”
He dropped to the floor beside her, his arm wrapping across her shoulders.
“James is your brother?”
“Was my brother.”
“How do you know?”
She handed him the letter. He removed his arm from across her shoulders, and she missed the warmth, suddenly cold as if she’d been abandoned all over again.
“I guess my mother...Mary never got a chance to mail it. But her letter explains it all... That’s why my…father was so hard on me. I found pictures I wasn’t supposed to find. When she died, I gathered some of her things and stuffed them in a box. Rand tried to get rid of them because he hated her. He knew she didn’t like him. I rescued them from the trash and hid her things in the garage, but I never got a chance to look at them. I guess Foster thought I’d want them. ”
Chase grunted a few times as he read Mary’s letter. She studied his face as his eyes scanned line after line. His jaw set into a hard line and then began to work as if he had a lot to say but couldn’t say it. He finally laid the letter on the floor in front of him, staring straight ahead. Frozen, when she needed him to wrap his arms around her again. She needed her mother, but Mary was gone. Chase’s comfort would have to do, even though it wouldn’t be the same, but he was all she had.
“Celeste didn’t want me. She wanted James, but she didn’t want me. Her brother…Burt…my father didn’t want me either. Mary...my mother...is the only person who ever wanted me. And I lost her when I…” She shuddered. “I’ve always felt so alone.”
She needed Chase to rescue her, to stop her from recalling all the things about her past she hadn’t understood but that suddenly made perfect sense when she knew the truth.
He rose and pulled her from the floor.
“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered as he held her to him. “I know it won’t fix all the hurt in your past, Laurel, but...I want you. I want to be with you. Forever. You’re not alone anymore.”
His sweet words filled the lonely place in her heart, but did nothing to prevent the pain that ripped through her. The hurt finally slammed her. Anger surged through her at the birth mother that had rejected her, at the man who took her in and then abused her because he really didn’t want her either. She jerked, almost violently, and gazed into Chase’s eyes, searching for the truth in their depths. His heart seemed to be breaking for her.
“I don’t know how I would have handled this alone. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Even as she spoke the words, she wondered if Chase’s presence was enough to keep her from cracking.
She broke the embrace and retrieved her suitcase from where she’d left it when they came back from Little Rock. She set it on the bed and flipped it open. Chase stood right behind her. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her, waiting for something to happen. She refused to give in to the hysteria swirling around in her consciousness.
“Aren’t you going to pack? I’m ready to get out of here.”
He cleared his throat, and she turned to face him.
“What?”
He still clutched the pictures in his hand, the ones that had devastated her. He wadded them up.
“This isn’t right. What they did to you. Maybe you deserve to keep the property. After all, she owed you something.”
“Leaving me Laurel Heights isn’t enough to make up for what she did to me. My inheritance is a guilt gift. If I had known what this was all about... If I had known about James, I would have given this up and let him have it. This place doesn’t belong to me. It never really did. Maybe I can sell it and get my money back out of it.”
A wave of cold air passed through her. A heavy weight pressed o
n her chest. Her mind raced a mile a minute. A voice seemed to whisper in her ear, but she couldn’t make out the message. She straightened as a startling thought entered her mind. No one was going to frighten her away. She’d leave because she wanted to leave, not because someone forced her out of her own house.
“I know that look, Laurel. What are you thinking?”
“I want to know how they’re getting into my house.”
The words seemed to pour from her mouth without her permission. She’d not intended to do anything besides pack and leave. Yet the desire to discover the truth seemed to well in her like a living, rushing fountain.
He laughed, uneasily it seemed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea—”
“I deserve to know what’s going on around here. Have you ever been in the basement?”
Where had the urge to investigate come from? She shook her head, but the compulsion wouldn’t dislodge from her brain. She was driven to go down to the basement as if something or someone was pulling her toward the inevitable.
He blinked at her, waited a moment before answering. “There’s nothing down there but mold and mice.”
She laughed, a hollow chuckle filled with a lot of false bravado and very little merriment.
“Sounds like the garage apartment, doesn’t it?”
He didn’t laugh with her. Perhaps he wasn’t in the mood to be amused. She pressed onward, ignoring his frown.
“If there’s a hidden entrance, isn’t it likely to be in the basement?” She sounded so calm and reasonable, yet inside she felt as if her spirit was in turmoil, as if two parts of a whole were struggling for dominance.
He made a skeptical face, his eyes squinted, his mouth set into a firm line. The stance revealed his years in law enforcement. He had adopted the guarded look of a cop. “Maybe.”
“Come on, Chase. Isn’t the secret passage always in the basement? Don’t you watch Scooby Doo?”
He puffed out his cheeks, exasperation written all over his handsome face.
When had she started thinking of him as handsome? His hair hung loose around his face, rather than pulled back in the usual ponytail. She liked the soft wave of brown that curled around his neck, tempted to run her fingers through it as she’d done before.
“Laurel, this isn’t a cartoon. This is real life and finding out what’s going on in your basement could get you dead.”
Her heart stalled. Had he been withholding information from her?
“Why do you say that? Is there something going on down there? Have you been keeping something from me, Chase?” She hadn’t meant to sound accusatory, but the questions came out that way.
What was happening to her? She didn’t seem to be in control of her tongue any longer.
He sputtered in apparent protest. “Of course not. Why would I keep something like that from you? I’ve been over every inch of the basement and found nothing like that.”
“Why did you search the basement? Oh, wait. No. Never mind. I know. You were looking for those codes that belonged to Rand.”
“Yes. I was.”
“Then, you wouldn’t have noticed a hidden passage, would you? You would have been searching for something small, not something big.”
Was she making sense? She blinked, trying to shake off the weird spell she seemed to be under. The urge to explore the basement rushed her even harder.
“Let’s find out what’s down there. Have you got the gun?” She patted his back, locating the weapon and yanking it from the waistband of his jeans.
“Laurel, what are you doing? What’s wrong with you? Snap out of it.”
He grabbed the weapon from her.
“It’s not even loaded, is it? Are you carrying a bullet in your pocket like Barney Fife?”
“Barney Fife?” he muttered.
Maybe he didn’t appreciate her comparing him to a barely competent deputy on The Andy Griffith Show.
Where had the reference come from? She never watched old television shows. She was barely aware the show even existed. Her mania was escalating. What was happening to her?
He stuck the gun back into his waistband and ran his fingers through his hair.
“Laurel, what’s going on? You’re acting weird.”
“Maybe I’ve finally cracked.” She smirked. “Couldn’t stop me, could you?”
“Cut it out. This isn’t funny.”
She flew past him out her bedroom door, rushed down the stairs, and yanked open the access door to the basement. Everything seemed to move very slowly and very hitchy, all mixed up in a fast-paced, out-of-sync blur.
The raw wood of the basement stair rails bit into her hands as a force that seemed to come from outside her pulled her body down every step. The heavy stomp of Chase’s boot heels rattled the wood staircase as he followed her. Her nose wrinkled at the musty odor. Weren’t all basements this dank and dark? She pulled a dangling cord and brilliant, white light flooded the basement.
****
It was, indeed, a rare occurrence when old Timna came to town. She stood at the front door just as Grayson was exiting the Sheriff’s office. The woman seemed to be on a mission, exuding determination and raw energy.
“I need to tell you something.” No nonsense. No hi-how-are-you-doing greeting. Straight to business.
He tried not to act surprised at her abrupt manner or the urgency in her demeanor. “Come inside and we can sit down to talk.”
“No, I’ll tell you what I have to tell you right here.”
He sighed. It was nearing one o’clock and already eighty-five degrees outside. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Northern Arkansas was in for a hot summer it seemed.
“Go ahead then.”
“That Standridge girl is in a lot more trouble than you think.” Her tone chastised him as if whatever was happening at Laurel Heights was his fault. “I know who stole that money from poor Celeste.”
“You do?”
Her assertion startled him. She wasn’t usually so straightforward with her revelations. The urgency she radiated made him twitchy.
“Her twin was in on it, but it was about more than just Celeste’s money. You have to stop what’s about to happen.”
“Her twin? James?”
She shifted something from one cheek to the other before she answered. Did the woman chew tobacco? That grossed him out.
She scowled as if she was mad that he wasn’t getting her point quickly enough. “Yeah, James, the dead man.”
“Is Sam Richards involved?”
She blinked and then sniffed. “Him and his worthless brother Zeke and old man Cooley. You’d better hurry, Mitchell. Time is running out. She’s about to find out her father’s secret, and if she does, someone is going to die.”
“Her father’s secret? What secret?” But even as he asked the question, he knew she’d told him all she intended to tell.
Timna turned back toward the street from whence she came. She had disappeared before he had a chance to thank her for her information.
Gray was stunned that she’d told him so much, and without the usual price of a Baby Ruth bar. He stood at the front door of the Sheriff’s office for a whole minute, pondering Timna’s startling words before he rushed into action.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Laurel descended the stairs into the basement with lightning speed. Chase didn’t think he’d ever seen her move so fast. She flipped the switch, and brilliant light illuminated the basement. He had always thought the high wattage was odd, the kind of light someone might put in a garage workshop. Fluorescent and blinding, almost.
Laurel spun around as if getting a feel for the entire space. “What are we looking for?”
“This was your idea.”
Did he sound as grumpy as he felt? He didn’t want to hang around Laurel Heights another minute. The sooner they left, the sooner he could have the normal life with Laurel that she wanted. That he wanted, too. Badly.
She snorted derisively. “Yes, it was my idea. You were never g
oing to do it.”
Her voice didn’t sound like her usual melodic tones, but dripped with unexpected sarcasm. More scratchy and deeper. When had she developed such a thick drawl?
He couldn’t quite describe what was different about her attitude. Just that it was so out of character for her. She was like a wild animal that had sniffed out her prey, a hound on the hunt, a buzzard circling a dying armadillo. Chill bumps erupted on his arms. She was definitely not acting herself, and the terrible thought zoomed through his mind that maybe she wasn’t Laurel. Had something invaded her mind, forcing her to act outside herself? Surely not. That kind of thing happened in horror movies. Not in real life.
She began examining everything in the basement, not exactly thoroughly, but intensely. He followed her movements in stunned amazement. She searched with frantic energy, and he didn’t know how to calm her or slow her down. She seemed a little crazed.
She spun on her heel, a strange light glowing from her eyes. “Aren’t you gonna help me?” That sounded like a challenge and an accusation.
“Sure.”
He tried to keep his tone calm, afraid that he might detonate the bomb that was about to explode. There was nothing he could do except help her in her quest. He couldn’t leave her alone to discover God knows what. Danger prickled his armpits. Sweat pooled at the base of his spine. The basement was insufferably hot.
If there was an entrance to a secret passage, there would be telltale markings on the walls or floors. He’d always thought it odd that the basement walls had been finished with drywall, unusual for a below-ground space. He probed the joints, hoping to find a lever or a crack wider than normal. When he came to some shelving, he examined the edges of the unit until his fingers trailed across something liquid. Looking closer, he sucked in a deep breath. Blood. Fresh. Not good. Accident or not, someone had just been injured. Whatever was going to happen was about to begin. He felt the intensity of the oncoming confrontation in every nerve in his body.
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