Wife of the Left Hand (Sugar Hill Book 1)

by M. L. Bullock

  He was ready for that question, and I knew he would be. “Well, Avery. My plan is a tall order, but who can deny that it’s a real need for our area? Not to mention how it would benefit our state. We would qualify for major funding and help relieve a real problem. I appreciate that the governor and others have misgivings about the Greeley plan, but they are reasonable men, and I do want to work with them. I’ve revised my project a bit. The goal is the same, but I’ve divided the plan up into three phases. I’ll be working with all parties to execute each step. Together we will make sure the natural habitats are safe, the children are safe and this state-of-the-art facility is built, bringing us an influx of federal funds. As you know, that money will go a long way in rebuilding our broken infrastructure. It’s all about making the deal. I know I can do it. It takes time, though. I’ve only been in office for three months. That’s barely enough time to get to know my staff, much less build a rehabilitation center of this size.”

  “I see. About getting to know your staff…” I saw his color change. He wasn’t expecting that. Good! Let’s see how guilty he is. “You spent a great deal of money and time selecting the most diverse group you could for your staff. That is very commendable.”

  “Thank you. I think it is important to listen to many voices.”

  “Yes, I agree.”

  “I believe in all people. Men and women, all colors. There is no…”

  “In fact, I am going through this list now; I wish the American people could see this.” I slid my finger down the page for dramatic effect. “I can see that eighty-five percent of your staff is female. That’s a much higher percentage than anyone else in your position.”

  He laughed a rough, rusty laugh; it sounded nervous and painful. “I am not your average senator, and my staff is very small compared to many.” His handsome face looked pinched.

  “That’s true. And how are your relationships with your staff? Any regrets about anyone you’ve hired?”

  “What?”

  “I only ask because, well. Let me show you a little video I found. I’d like to get your reaction to this.” He stared at me but didn’t protest. I watched him closely as the camera came on. Amanda was desperately trying to get my attention and the camera crew whispered, but I didn’t stop. I was this close to exposing David Greeley.

  And there he was. In his naked glory. Exposing himself. Of course, the naked bits were blurred out, thanks to Philip. This was a family show, after all. He appeared to be drinking something, maybe champagne, from a woman’s stiletto heel—and that woman wasn’t his wife. It was clearly his young staffer, Heather Pruitt. She was well endowed, totally into him and barely legal. And she wasn’t alone. Two other young “ladies” on his staff were present too, having the time of their lives with one another. While the video splashed across the screen, Greeley slammed his hand on the desk and glared at me. His advisors ran toward him, but he waved them away.

  “I didn’t sign up for this kind of shady journalism. Who are you, Jerry Springer? I thought this was a reputable news channel. Do you realize what you have done? Darlene, oh my God…my wife is in the green room. I hope you are happy! America’s Sweetheart, my ass!” He slung the mic on the tabletop and lunged at me. I fell off the stool trying to get away from him. I laughed at the craziness of it all as his men pulled him away.

  “We aren’t done!” he shouted at me as I straightened my dress.

  “And we’re gone to commercial. Avery, you have sixty seconds.” Amanda was there helping me get my bearings. “Senator, wait,” she called after him as he stormed off the set. “Avery, what were you thinking? What was that?”

  “It was the senator having sex with his staffers. Now he’s busted.”

  Amanda didn’t approve, I could see that, but she didn’t say much else. She couldn’t. Time wasn’t on my side. I greeted the audience and apologized for the senator’s behavior. I wanted to play the video again, but for some reason the package wouldn’t play.

  “Sorry, Avery. It’s not rolling up.”

  “No matter. Let me tell you what was in the video…”

  “Commercial…ten seconds!” was in my ear. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t deliver the story I wanted. Breaking news about a bus explosion in London took over the rest of my hour, but the message was clear. Someone higher up in News Quarter was preventing me from telling this story. That didn’t bode well. I thought the bosses had my back no matter what. That’s what they had told me. But it looked like I was wrong. I struggled through the news segments but finally made it to the end of the show. “Well, what’s on your mind, Amanda? Spit it out. You have to admit that I got him.”

  She put the headphones and cords in the plastic tub and put the lid on it. “Sure, you got him. But at what price, Avery? He’s ruined now. His wife left in tears. They have two kids, did you know? You didn’t go through the proper channels to vet this story. We can’t even be sure it’s him in the video. God, this is so horrible. Why didn’t you tell me what you planned to do?”

  “What? You can’t be serious. You feel sorry for that guy? He’s a cheating son of a gun, and he got caught. How am I the bad guy? And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to catch any heat.”

  “Catch any heat? You might lose your job over this, Avery. Catch any heat? I might lose my job over something I wasn’t even a part of. Some things you just don’t do. It’s just not right. And I don’t feel sorry for the guy. I am pissed off because you didn’t include me in your planning. I thought we were a team.” She’d followed me back to my office and stood in my doorway. I thought for sure she would either slap me or cry.

  Before I could defend myself, I got a call from the upstairs office. “Sure. I’m on the way.” I hung up my cell phone and frowned at her. “We are a team, Amanda. I am sorry that you feel that way. I have to get upstairs. Haven’t been called to the principal’s office in a long time.”

  She didn’t wish me luck or give me her usual thumbs-up. She wasn’t happy with me, and neither was my crew. I don’t know what they thought we were doing here. It was a cable news station, right?

  I stomped up the metal stairs in my high heels and tapped on Jen Henderson’s door.

  “Come in, Dufresne. You know Paul Willet.”

  “Paul. What’s up, Jen?”

  “You crossed the line tonight. You crossed it, set it on fire and danced on it. What possessed you to do such a thing?”

  “What is wrong with everyone? I didn’t have the affair. I didn’t drink from a woman’s shoe or ask her to beat me with it. I can’t believe you don’t think is news.”

  “What a man does in his bedroom is his business. Not yours, and not the world’s. I don’t ever want to see that kind of reporting coming from that desk again, do you understand?”

  I was in such shock I didn’t know what to say. What could I say? “Let me get this straight. You don’t want me to tell the American public when their politicians behave corruptly?”

  “Corruption is fine, but immorality is something else.”

  “I can’t believe my ears. Have I fallen into a time warp or something? Are we protecting the good ol’ boys here at News Quarter? The people have a right to know what’s happening in their senator’s office after hours. We all pay his salary, right?”

  “No more gotcha journalism, Dufresne, or you are out. Stanwyck is raring to go. He’s called me twice already. Don’t force us to put him in your chair.”

  “You can do whatever you like,” I said heatedly. “This isn’t what I signed up for. This is ridiculous, tying my hands like this. So what if the wife can’t handle it? She should have known about it. Hell, she probably did.”

  Paul straightened his tie and said in a quiet yet commanding voice, “Go home, Miss Dufresne. Take a vacation. You aren’t getting it, and you really need to.”

  “I see. I guess I have no choice, then.” I stomped out of the room, keenly aware that they were watching me when I nearly tripped. Damn these metal stairs. My shoes alw
ays got hung in them.

  I stormed into my office, grabbed my handbag and overnight bag and took off. Luckily, I had driven myself to work that morning. I considered calling for the car but decided against it. I walked out of the building, crossed the street and barreled into the parking garage. The traffic was light, so it was easy to skitter across the roadway. A security guard ran after me. “Hey, Miss Dufresne! Wait!”

  “I need space, John. I got this. I have my gun. I’ll be okay.”

  He could tell by the look on my face that I wasn’t going to have it any other way. “Fine, but I think that is a bad idea.”

  “It’s official. This is a bad idea. I’m two for two. Now shoo. I have to go home.”

  He left, calling in on his squawk box to let them know I was leaving in my car, solo. Nobody came after me, so I figured all was well. I tossed the overnight bag in the trunk and unlocked the car. I climbed in and didn’t even put on my seat belt, I was so pissed. I took off out of the garage and down Lincoln Lane to my street off Overlook. Why would I go to the cabin now? Jonah was a no-show, and now my job was in jeopardy. I turned on the radio, avoiding my own news channel completely. I wanted to call Tenille, but I was sure she’d call me soon enough. She and her daughter, Amy, watched all my shows.

  Oh no, Amy. Sorry, Tenille. Don’t kill me. I promise they blurred the bits out.

  Suddenly I felt a gloved hand grip my throat. I tried to scream, but to no avail. “Pull over here, in this parking garage. Yes, that’s it. Easy now. Don’t make any sudden movements. Don’t try to call for help. I just want to talk. That’s all. Just talk.”

  “Okay, I’m not moving. Just driving. Over here? Okay…” My heart was pounding, and I tried to get a peek at the intruder in the mirror.

  “Nope, keep your eyes on the road, Avery. This is supposed to be a surprise. It’s a night for surprises, I think.” I kept my mouth shut to keep from screaming. What do I do? What should I do? I decided for now I would do what he told me to do. The parking garage was dark; someone had shattered the lights above the three or four spaces, and it was pitch black outside now. So strange to think that there would be a pocket of darkness in such a busy city.

  “Good, very good, Avery. Now, feel this?” I felt a prick at my throat. I nodded my head slowly. His hand was on my mouth now. “That’s not for show, lovely girl. I am going to use this knife on you if you misbehave. Now what I want you to do, sweetheart, is get out of the car with me, and then you will come join me back here, you understand?” I listened carefully, trying my best to focus on gathering facts—and staying alive.

  Tears filled my eyes and I stifled a sob, but I refused to beg for my life. I would fight every chance I got. I opened the car door slowly as he asked me to. I stood up and walked to the open back door. I knew this was my moment. If I climbed in the back of that car with this man, I would be dead. Or I could run. Run like the devil was chasing me.

  I slung my purse at his head, forgetting all about my gun and pepper spray. I took off running, but my damn shoe tripped me up. I used to hate watching movies and seeing women fall down everywhere when they were supposed to be running from bears, ghosts or whatever. Now here I was being the stupid woman, falling down and screaming for help.

  Then he was on me. As quick as lightning, the blade went up and down. I could feel it slide into my chest and then slice my neck. I screamed in pain, and someone called to us. The agony seemed to last forever as the stranger punched at my attacker and screamed, “Hey! What you doing to that girl? Hey!”

  I heard a scuffle and the sound of running. Dress shoes, not tennis shoes. There was the lingering smell of familiar cologne, and then I couldn’t move.

  “Hey, lady. You okay? Lady? Oh my God!” I lay there, my blood pouring out of me, the lights above me fading. I wanted Vertie here with me so badly. I called out to her, but no words came out of my mouth. Even my rescuer disappeared.

  Why weren’t they here to help me?

  I was alone.

  I was always alone.

  Chapter Three – Anne Dufresne

  The plane jolted off the runway with a lurch. “That’s disturbing,” said a soft voice beside me. I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I had completely forgotten Mitchell sat next to me. Mitchell’s voice didn’t match his hulking frame, but he was as honest as the day was long and like a son to me. People naturally overlooked him. He wasn’t terribly handsome like many of the Dufresne men, and he didn’t have great conversation skills. But I knew the man’s heart, and he was utterly devoted to me—and to our family. Besides, Mitchell’s IQ soared above most, and he had a gentle, quiet manner that I appreciated more each day. He was my secret weapon. My great-nephew offered me a bottle of water, but I shook my head. I sighed, leaned against my folded hand and stared out the plane’s streaky window.

  “I should have already done this. These bones aren’t up to traveling,” I muttered against the pain in my arms and legs.

  “Nonsense, Aunt Anne. You are the youngest woman I know.” That pulled a smile out of me, and I blindly patted his hand. I appreciated the lie.

  “You need to get out more, nephew.” I didn’t look, but I knew he was blushing. Again he offered me water, and I accepted this time. The medication made me thirsty, and of course that meant repeated trips to the restroom. Using the facilities was not something I wanted to do aboard a plane. It seemed so uncivilized relieving oneself so close to strangers. But I supposed the alternative was not much better.

  It was hard to believe that I, Anne Beatrice Dufresne, had cancer. I played tennis until I was sixty and had been an avid swimmer all my life. I ate the right food, took the right vitamins and here I was, dying. Making one last trip before I gave up the ghost. There was that word again. No, I wouldn’t think about Sugar Hill or the family right now. I deserved a moment of self-pity. I planned to wallow in it, but that would never last. I was too practical for regret. I’d fought so hard for my family name, for our fortune, and all my money and influence had wrought me nothing in the end. I had made the necessary sacrifices, and now I would get my comeuppance.

  Yes, Vertie. I would finally pay for my crimes.

  I was sure my death would be slow and painful. I deserved it. Didn’t villains always get a suitable end?

  No. Not all of them.

  I forced his face from my mind and concentrated on the moment. I refused to give demons from the past one second of the time I had left. And there would be no lingering death for me. I would never allow that to be my fate.

  I caught a glimpse of my face in the window, and the gaunt image surprised me. That wasn’t my face, was it? The reflection was a specter that constantly haunted me now, reminding me that bit by bit I was blending into my musty surroundings. Shriveling away, as my Grandmother Margaret used to say repeatedly when she lost her faculties.

  “I’m shriveling away, Annie. Shriveling! Look at me. Look at my hands! Don’t I look smaller?”

  A shiver ran up my spine as I remembered her desperate voice whispering in my ear.

  It was nice to be away from the big house for a little while. That was why I had Mitchell move all my personal things to the Rose Cottage. At least I could die in peace without the faces of the past swirling around me like a dark mist. This would undoubtedly be the last time I ventured out of Sugar Hill. I was tempted to stick my tongue out at the wrinkled old face that stared back at me from behind oversize glasses, but I didn’t. I looked past the old woman and into the clouds that we now sailed through. Flying was lovely. I missed this. Vertie and I had been fearless when we were young. We flew everywhere until things changed. Now she was gone. Like all souls, she was just a vapor, here one moment and vanished the next.

  Ghosts had been a part of my life since I was a small girl. The first time I saw one was at Sugar Hill, and I recalled it perfectly. I was standing in the second-floor hallway when she ran right through me, as if she had not even seen my six-year-old body trembling in front of her. I screamed, but the transparent w
oman with the anguished face did not look in my direction. Instead, she stared into the darkness that chased her. Then the sound came toward me, the relentless banging, and I knew that it knew I was there. Unlike the ghost that fled from it, it saw me clearly. It paused, the sound accompanied by a barely discernible form. Then it collapsed into a compact smudge, a kind of ball of darkness, and it sped toward me. I passed out and woke up soaked in urine. That was where my grandmother found me.

  “You saw them, didn’t you? The ghost and the demon?”

  I didn’t speak for four days. I couldn’t speak. Finally, they got bored with asking me questions and seemed to forget about me. Until I turned twelve. Then I had been given the ring.

  Now it was part of my life, and I had never taken it off my finger. I had given up trying years ago. It was loose and slipped off easily now, as if it had released me from my duty at long last. It had been a part of me, just like those seasonal family dinners and the piles of journals and Grandmother Margaret’s videos. As much as I tried to deny them, they always had been a part of me, and I was no closer to putting those ghosts to rest than any of the Dufresne women before me had been. The most I could hope for now was not to become a ghost myself. I wanted to pass into the eternal night without a chance that I would come back. I had to set things right. I had to get things ready.

  No, I couldn’t be too late. This was right. Avery Dufresne would take my place. I would place the ring on her finger and go home without it. In the words of John the Baptist, I would decrease and she would increase. I laughed aloud at the ridiculous comparison. I covered my mouth and ignored Mitchell’s questioning look reflected in the glass. My thoughts tended to wander when they shouldn’t. I must stay focused, at least for a little while, right? I closed the shade and leaned back in the seat. Mitchell had his laptop open. I still couldn’t figure those things out. They were like strange futuristic contraptions to me. I missed the days of pens and paper. Yes, it was time for me to say goodbye.