Fugitive

by Shirlee McCoy

  “Let me guess.” Logan walked into the parlor and dropped onto the sofa. “She apologized. Told you that you didn’t know the entire story. That she’d been made to look like something she wasn’t.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s what she said on the stand when she went to trial. She insisted that your father and I had set her up and that I’d then betrayed Josiah.”

  “For what reason?” Laney would have laughed if the whole thing weren’t so deadly serious.

  “She never said. Things were stacked against her, though. A dozen foster kids stepped forward to talk about her abusiveness. She didn’t stand a chance. I just wish I could have linked her to...” He stopped.

  “Nick’s murder? You can say it, Logan. I read the news reports. I know what my parents did.” With so many foster kids coming and going, most of them running away before they’d been in the house for a month, she hadn’t thought much about Nick Lander’s disappearance. He’d been just another one in the long line of troubled youth that her parents brought into their home.

  She’d seen the story during the trial, though, and had looked at pictures of the field at the back edge of the property and what the cadaver dogs had discovered there. Six years after his death from hypothermia, Nick had finally been found.

  “Only your father was convicted of Nick’s murder. Your mother served time for neglect, but she wasn’t tried for murder.”

  “That doesn’t mean she wasn’t involved. She was...” She fingered the scar on her knuckles made by an accidental slip of her mother’s knife while they were working in the kitchen together.

  That’s what the doctors had been told.

  The truth had been in Mildred’s eyes, though.

  It had terrified Laney. Thirteen years old. No one in the community who would believe anything but her parents’ lies.

  No one but Logan.

  “I know what Mildred was. That’s why I’m wondering where she is. What she’s been up to all these years.” Logan cut into her thoughts.

  “I never contacted her. I didn’t have any desire to reconnect.”

  “I wonder what her agenda was?” Logan walked to the window and stared out into the snow-bright yard, sunlight playing in his dark hair and splashing across his face.

  He’d always been handsome, but in the years they’d been apart, he’d filled out and grown up, becoming the man that she’d caught just a glimpse of the day she’d fled.

  “I don’t think it was anything altruistic.”

  “Me neither. It’s curious that she waited a few years after she was released from prison to contact you, don’t you think?”

  “There was never any rhyme or reason with Mildred.”

  “When was your father diagnosed with MS?”

  “I got notice about his illness a few months before Mildred’s private detective showed up on my doorstep.” She’d never thought about it before. Never had any reason to put the two together. Now that she had, she couldn’t separate them. “You don’t think that she wanted this back, do you? That maybe she knew my father was dying and thought that when he was gone, I’d let her live back here?”

  “It’s possible. She did love this house.”

  “She hated it, Logan. She thought it was old and outdated and drafty.”

  “She loved what it represented. Wealth. Power. Social standing.” He met her eyes, and her breath caught.

  She wanted to sink right into the warmth of his gaze.

  She told herself not to look. Told herself that she shouldn’t be noticing the way his hair curled near his collar, his broad hands, his dark blue eyes, the thick ridge of scars on his forearm.

  She looked again.

  It wasn’t from the years she’d known him, but it wasn’t fresh either.

  She didn’t realize she’d moved until she was beside him, her fingers running along the scars. “Did this happen in prison?”

  “No. I was the first responder at a terrible car accident a few years ago. I was trying to pull the victim out of the burning wreck.” There was something he wasn’t saying—she heard it in his voice and saw it in the depth of his eyes.

  “Was the victim someone you knew?”

  “My wife.”

  “Logan...” Her fingers curved around his forearm, her stomach hollow with grief. “I—”

  “I’ve relived that day a million times, imagining a thousand different ways that I might have saved her. Every time, I see my failure. I’m not going to fail again, Laney.”

  “You’re not—”

  “I have a friend who will pick me up and drive me out of town. I’m going to call him.”

  “You were going to try to start one of my father’s cars and leave tonight,” she reminded him, ashamed that there was a part of her that wanted him to leave.

  He was dangerous.

  Not just the trouble that he’d brought with him.

  Him. The man who thought that he’d failed his wife. Who didn’t want to fail Laney. The teenager who’d grown into a man with so much integrity that he’d been convicted of a felony and still had the police department cheering for him.

  “If Tanner has been here, there’s a good chance the police are watching your driveway and the road that leads out of town. There’s no way I’m going to be able to use one of your father’s cars to get out of here.”

  “I could call someone. Maybe my dad’s lawyer. He might be willing to help. You could hide in the backseat or trunk of his car when he leaves.” It wasn’t the best plan, but it might work. “Or, you could hide in the back of my rental, and I could drive you out of town.”

  “You don’t think that driving out of town, making a quick stop and driving back will make the police suspicious?”

  “We don’t know that they’re actually watching my house.”

  “They’re watching.” Logan rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s an old gas station that backs onto your property on the went end. It closed a couple of years ago,” Logan said.

  “I remember it.” Laney used to walk there in the summers and stand in the air-conditioned building. The owner had been an elderly man who always gave her a soda or ice cream. She’d forgotten that until now.

  “I’ll pack a few things and walk there.”

  “And do what? You said the place is closed down.”

  “It is, but it has four walls, and I can stay there until I come up with a better plan.”

  “Logan—”

  The doorbell rang, and they both froze.

  It rang again, and Logan stepped into the shadowy hall. “Check the peep hole.”

  Laney did as he commanded, looking out through the small hole, her stomach churning as she saw a stranger’s face. “Who’s there?” she called.

  “Christopher Banks. Sorry for stopping by without calling. I’m going out of town on a business trip tonight. I just need a minute of your time before I leave.”

  “I—”

  “This might be easier if we weren’t speaking to each other through a door.” Her father’s lawyer sounded amused rather than annoyed, and aside from Logan’s presence, Laney couldn’t think of a reason to send him away. At least not one that wouldn’t make him suspicious.

  “I—”

  Logan skirted by, his footsteps light as he jogged up the stairs.

  “Just a second. These old locks can be tricky.” She jiggled the knob, gave Logan a few more seconds to retreat, then unbolted the door and opened it.

  NINE

  Christopher Banks was tall and blond, his clothes perfectly pressed and fitted. He looked to be in his early thirties with hazel eyes and manicured hands. He also looked like an actor, handsome and fit, his smile easy and welcoming.

  “Laney? It’s good to finally meet you in person.” He h
ad a solid handshake.

  “You, too. Come on in. The house is still a mess. I haven’t had time to clean it yet.” She resisted the urge to glance up at the stairs as she led him into the parlor.

  “How was your flight from Seattle?” he asked as he settled onto the love seat.

  “A little turbulence, but not bad. Would you like some coffee or tea? I’d be happy to make a pot.” And happier to have him at the back of the house rather than at the front with Logan just above their heads.

  “I’m fine.” He shifted, frowning as the plastic crackled. “I should have had a cleaning crew come in before you arrived. The place could definitely use a little polish and shine.” He ran his finger across the coffee table, scowling at the dust that coated it.

  “There was no need. I’m happy to clean it myself before it’s listed.”

  If she allowed it to be listed.

  She couldn’t believe that she was seriously considering the alternative—owning it, accepting her legacy. Maybe she could do better than her parents had in the house her great-great grandfather had built.

  “If you change your mind, let me know. I work a lot of estate cases, and I have a good crew that can be in and out in a few hours.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” The floor above their heads creaked, the sound so subtle Laney might not have noticed it if she hadn’t known that Logan was there. Her cheeks heated, but Chris didn’t seem to notice. He was busy pulling several file folders from a dark leather briefcase.

  “Now, on to business. I have some news for you, and I think you’re going to be happy about it. There are already five offers on this property.”

  “It’s not even on the market.”

  “A few developers have been coveting this land for years. I put out the word that your Realtor would be willing to entertain offers before it was listed if the offers were worthwhile. These are.”

  “I’m not sure that I want to sell it to a developer.” If she did, she knew the house would be torn down and the land would be split into small parcels and dotted with cookie-cutter homes.

  The thought clogged her throat, and she swallowed hard.

  “No?” Chris looked up from the folders that he was spreading out on the table.

  “I was thinking that a family would be nice. Someone with children or grandchildren who could enjoy the orchards.”

  “That’s a nice dream, Laney, but dreams usually aren’t lucrative. Most families couldn’t pay nearly what a developer could.” He jabbed at one of the folders with a well-manicured finger. “This is probably the most interesting of the offers. The guy who made it owns a car dealership in Spokane. He’s interested in buying the land and your father’s car collection.”

  “I don’t think any of those cars run.”

  “Larry is offering—” he lifted the folder and riffled through it “—forty-thousand dollars for the cars alone, and that’s as is. I came out here a few days ago and took some pictures of the cars in the garage, then I had my staff do a little research. It seems to me that you could do a lot worse. Of course, the final decision is yours.” He slid the folder toward her.

  “I don’t know.” She took the folder reluctantly and glanced at the cover page. The seven-figure amount that the car dealer was offering was more than she’d expected, but she didn’t feel any more excited about letting go of the family home. “I’m going to need some time to think about it.”

  “I’ll be back tomorrow night. If you have any questions before then, my partner will be happy to answer them. He’s in our Seattle office, but I faxed him a copy of all the offers earlier today.”

  “I appreciate it.” The floor creaked again, and Chris looked up.

  “We should probably have someone in to inspect the foundation before the house goes on the market. It sounds like it’s doing a lot of settling, and I wouldn’t want to be under contract and then find out that there’s a problem.”

  “Good idea.” She resisted the urge to laugh, hysteria bubbling up from the depth of her fear. If Chris discovered Logan, would he feel obligated to contact the police? Or would he be obligated to keep his silence, client confidentiality sealing his lips?

  “I’ll call your Realtor and see if she has a recommendation.”

  “I don’t mind—”

  “It’s not a problem, Laney.” He smiled and stood. “Now, if you don’t mind, before I go, I’d like to take a few photos of the property. We had a query from a guy who lives out of state. He has a cousin in the area and heard about the sale—”

  “A lot of people seem to be hearing about it.”

  “Like I said, I put the word out. It spread like wildfire. You know how small towns can be.”

  “I guess I do.”

  “If we play our cards right, we could be accepting a very lucrative offer by early next week.” He pulled a digital camera from his pocket, and Laney’s heart nearly leaped out of her chest. Was he planning to walk outside and take the photos? Inside?

  Either way, she didn’t like it. The sooner he left, the happier she’d be.

  “I’d rather you wait until I clean things up.”

  “I’m sure that he’s not worried about what shape the house is in. He’s interested in the property itself. He has plans to build a shopping center here if he wins the bid.”

  A shopping center standing in the same spot where generations of her family had lived?

  The rational side of Laney knew that she should rejoice in the thought, but all she could do was picture the golden fields of wheat paved with asphalt.

  “I’d be happy to take the photos myself tomorrow morning. I can email them to you or to the interested party,” she insisted, and Chris finally conceded.

  “I guess that will have to be okay. Look over the offers. We can meet when I get back from my business trip to discuss them further. I’ll bring any other offers then.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  Laney walked out of the parlor with him, something nagging at the back of her mind.

  Logan’s words. Officer Parson’s. They had both asked about Laney’s mother.

  “Chris, I was wondering if my father left anything to my mother in his will?”

  “Your mother? No.”

  “So you didn’t contact her after my father’s death?”

  “They’d been divorced for ten years when he died, and you were listed as Josiah’s next of kin.”

  “I know. I just...wondered.”

  “Would it make you feel better if he had left her something? If he’d wanted me to contact her?”

  “I—”

  “It can’t be easy to have been raised by parents who loved each other but who couldn’t make it through tough times together.”

  “I haven’t been part of either of their lives in more than a decade. Their divorce hasn’t affected me at all,” she said truthfully.

  “Really? Your father always spoke fondly of you. He called you a blessing from God.”

  “That’s a shock, Chris, because the only thing he ever called me to my face was ‘worthless.’” More truth, and Chris didn’t seem happy about it.

  “You were a child. Your perception may have been skewed.”

  “Do you live in Green Bluff?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you didn’t grow up here?”

  “I moved here from Seattle a couple of years ago to open a new branch of my law firm.”

  “Then all you know about my family is what my father told you. I wouldn’t take a whole lot of stock in it, considering that he spent the last ten years of his life in jail.”

  “You’ve got a point.” Chris flashed his easy smile, and Laney wanted to return it. Her lips felt stiff, though, and her heart was beating oddly. Talking about her family wasn’t something she liked to do, espe
cially not with a virtual stranger.

  “The reason I was asking about my mother was because I was thinking about...getting in touch with her.”

  “Well, I’m sure that if you want to do that, you can.”

  Gee. Thanks.

  “If you have any information about her—”

  “I don’t, but I’d be happy to see what I can find out. I’m sure it won’t be difficult to find her, if you really want me to.”

  “I do.”

  “No problem. I’ll get started as soon as I get back.”

  “Thanks, Chris.”

  “Do read through the offers that I brought over. I’ll email other offers as they come in. Send me the photos once you take them.”

  “I will,” she said a touch too cheerfully. She didn’t feel cheerful. As a matter of fact, she was feeling a little sick. The stairs creaked, and she jumped, her gaze on Christopher’s back as he walked down the porch stairs.

  Please, don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. Don’t!

  He turned, his eyes probing the area beyond Laney. Was Logan there?

  She didn’t dare look.

  He smiled, waved and kept walking.

  Thank you, Lord. Thank you.

  She closed the door and leaned her back against it as if Chris might suddenly barge back in.

  * * *

  “That took a while.” Logan walked down the stairs, a backpack slung over one shoulder, his long legs hidden by loose cargo pants. He’d tucked the cuffs into snow boots that looked like William’s and had his left hand in the pocket of a coat that was William’s. He filled it out more, his shoulders straining the seams.

  She looked away, uncomfortable with the comparison.

  “Chris had several offers on the property. He wants me to make a decision by next week.”

  “Make it when you’re ready and don’t worry about what he wants.”

  “I know you’re right. I just...”

  “Don’t know if you want to sell and don’t know how to tell him?”

  “Don’t know if I should tell him. The way I feel is probably just some passing phase.”