by Sharon Sala
Again Hale’s attention was drawn toward the young woman standing by his bed. He couldn’t see her face, but she sure had pretty hair. He looked at her hands, at the tilt of her head. She reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t think who. That frustrated him. He hated being weak. He hated not being able to remember. Then he sighed. And dammit, when he thought about it real hard, he hated the idea of dying.
Religion had never been part of his life before, but he’d been thinking real hard on it now for days. Ever since he’d heard them whispering over his bed when they thought he was unconscious. Dying, they’d said. The old man is dying. Well, okay. It comes to everyone. But what was bothering him now was what comes after. Is it all over when you draw your last breath, or do angels really come to retrieve your mortal soul?
Hale looked back at that shell of a man and felt like crying. What if there really was an afterlife? If there was a heaven, then that meant there was also a hell.
Oh God, if you’re there, I’m sorry… for a whole lot of things.
Hale was waiting for God to answer when the young woman turned around. And when he saw her face, he knew he’d been right. There was a God. And He’d sent this woman to sit in judgment on Oliver’s fate. His conscience smote him.
I am going to hell!
And then he remembered a time from his youth and a night when he’d sat in the back row of a church and listened to the town whore reciting her sins. They’d said she’d been saved. He remembered thinking that night that they hadn’t saved her from nothin’, cause there hadn’t been anything there to hurt her. It had been years later before he’d understood the term. And now he found himself in the same predicament. He tried to remember what the town whore had done. Oh yes. She’d confessed. That was what he needed to do. He needed to confess. But he was out here, and the old man was there. This would never work. He had to go back.
***
As Tory stood at his side, the old man started to moan. She spun around. “Doctor! He’s waking up.”
They didn’t know it, but Oliver Hale wasn’t just waking up. He’d come back to beg for forgiveness and plead for redemption.
Hale reached out, grabbing Tory’s wrist before she saw his intention, and clinging with a strength she wouldn’t have believed.
“Sorry… sorry. Didn’t mean… should have stayed… loved you… loved you.”
Levisay was stunned. He couldn’t believe the old man was awake, let alone talking. He had enough painkillers in him to fell an ox.
Brett took one look at Tory’s face and moved to her side. He didn’t know what was going on, but her expression was fixed on the old man’s face as if her life depended on it.
Levisay glanced at the heart monitor. It was going wild. He turned around. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But you two are going to have to leave. He’s—”
“No!”
Stunned, they all turned to look. No one could believe the cry had come from Oliver Hale’s mouth. Levisay reached for Hale’s arm, but the old man wouldn’t turn loose of Tory’s wrist.
“Nurse, get them out now!” Levisay shouted.
Oliver struggled to remain conscious. If she left before he got a chance to apologize, he would go to hell.
“No! Don’t leave me.” And then he pulled Tory close, whispering his plea to her alone. “Please, little girl… don’t go.”
Tory froze. That voice… calling that name. Something shifted inside her mind and started trying to come out. Something old and forgotten. Something bad. Something that hurt. She forgot that she’d come for answers and tore herself free from Hale’s grasp. In a panic, she started backing up. If she got far enough away, it couldn’t find her. But when she tried to run, she found herself unable to move. Something had hold of her arms. Someone was calling her name. She shuddered, then sighed, letting the panic subside. It was Brett. Only Brett.
Hale could see her clearly now. He’d been right. She’d come to point blame. He’d lied once to save himself, but if he wanted to save his soul, it was time to tell the truth.
“Doctor… gotta listen… tell her… sorry. She’s gotta understand.”
Brett couldn’t stand idle any longer. No one was asking the right questions, and from the looks of the old man, he could go at any minute. He hadn’t brought Tory this far just to let her watch a man die.
“Understand what, Hale? What does she have to understand?” Brett asked.
Oliver sighed. At last. Someone was listening.
“Didn’t mean it. You gotta believe me. I didn’t mean it.”
Brett kept thinking back to what he knew from Tory’s file. Could Hale have been in on the abandonment of Tory? Was he part of the reason a six-year-old child had been dumped?
“Mean what? What didn’t you mean to do?” he asked.
Barely able to lift his arm, Hale pointed at Tory, his hand trembling.
“Kill her. I didn’t mean to kill her.”
Oh, hell, Brett thought, as Levisay interrupted.
“He’s out of his head,” Levisay said. Then he glanced at Tory. “I don’t know what you came to hear, but I’m sorry. I told you he might not be lucid. You’re obviously not dead.”
But Oliver kept talking, spilling his secret to cleanse his soul, uncaring if they listened our not.
“You shouldn’t’a got mad at me,” he mumbled. “You always got mad at me.”
Tory’s eye were huge, fixed in disbelief upon the old man’s mouth. With every word he uttered, a new image flashed in her mind. It was like looking at hundreds of still shots, one right after the other, but unable to remember where they’d been taken, or by whom. Yet the longer she stood, the more certain she became that the child in the images was her. With Brett beside her, there was a calmness within her that hadn’t been there before. And she looked at that scorpion and at the old man’s face and she remembered it all, right up to the day they’d left her alone. Oh, God.
“Are you my father?”
He groaned. “No.”
She fired another question at him, her voice ripping through the silence surrounding the bed. “Why did you take Sweet Baby?”
Hale’s voice was fading. “You told me to pack it all.”
“I didn’t tell you anything,” Tory said. “I wasn’t even there, remember? You and my mother left me behind.”
Hale gasped and choked, his breathing more and more ragged with each passing inhalation. Then he closed his eyes.
Tory leaned down. “Don’t you do this!” she shouted. “Don’t you die on me yet!” She grabbed him by the shoulders. “Why didn’t you take me with you?”
Levisay started to intervene when Brett held him back.
“Dammit, man, let her talk. In the long run, it’s not going to matter.”
Hale kept mumbling, spitting out words as they came from his mind. “Fight… you fell… didn’t mean…”
Tory was shaking, awash with a lifetime of suppressed memories. She was hearing Hale’s answers, but he wasn’t making sense. She kept asking him one thing; he kept answering another. Bordering on hysteria, she screamed in his face.
“You and my mother left me to come home to an empty house. I stayed in a closet for three days and nights, afraid to come out. Didn’t you think of how terrified I would be?”
Hale’s head was rolling from side to side on the pillow. His color was ashen, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Not closet… tub. I put you under the tub.” His eyes widened, and it looked as if the scorpion on his cheek had just flicked its tail. He inhaled a ragged breath, struggling to pull air into his lungs, but he was so weak. Seconds passed as he stared straight into Tory’s face. “Ruthie… forgive… didn’t mean… kill. Why didn’t you stay dead?”
Tory froze.
Ruthie?
She tried to breathe and heard herself choking instead.
Ruthie?
Brett was talking to her now, telling her that she was going to be all right.
Ruthie?
An im
age flashed in her mind, an image of a woman with pretty brown hair and laughing eyes, a woman who smelled like roses and soap and who made up her own special songs to sing her little girl to sleep.
Hush little Tory, don’t say a word.
Mommy’s gonna buy you a honeybird.
A tear ran down the side of Tory’s nose. Honeybird. Hummingbird. Sometimes, when you’re only four, one word is as good as another.
The room was beginning to spin. She grabbed Brett, desperately holding on to the only solid thing in her world, but it was no use. She looked up, trying to focus on Brett’s face, and all she could see were those dark blue eyes, swimming in tears. Brett. Her Brett. He was crying… crying for her. That meant he understood.
“Oh, Brett, he killed my mother… didn’t he?”
She fainted before he could answer.
***
It was midnight when Brett pulled into the driveway and parked. Although the street was well lit, the house was dark. He wished he’d had the foresight to leave a light on when they’d left this morning. And then he glanced at Tory, who was still sleeping in the seat beside him. This morning? Surely it had taken longer than eight hours for their world to take this big a turn?
Gently, he lifted a tendril of hair from her eyes and slipped it behind her ear. Poor lost little girl. Being left behind and believing it was because she was unworthy of love.
And Hale. Fate had given him the perfect out. He hadn’t been married to Ruth Lancaster, therefore he did not abandon a child, therefore the state was not looking for him. And if Oliver Hale was to be believed, after the accident in which Ruth Lancaster had died, he’d panicked and hidden the body in a pretty obscure location. Beneath a bathtub, of all places. It would be hell trying to serve an arrest warrant on a woman who was no longer alive.
Even as they’d been leaving the prison, Hale’s doctor had still been hedging his bets, not fully convinced that the old man had known what he was saying. But Tory had been certain, and that was enough for Brett. Now all they had to do was alert the Arkansas authorities regarding Oliver Hale’s deathbed confession and see what happened next.
He reached over and touched Tory’s arm. “Tory, baby… we’re here.”
She sighed and then blinked. “What?”
“We’re home. Are you awake enough to walk?”
She sat up and looked out the window. Beneath the glow of the streetlights, the concrete walk leading up to the porch looked like a bright white path. A path that showed the way home.
She looked at Brett. “I can walk. When I was little, I walked home by myself every day.”
Brett’s heart was so full of emotion that he didn’t trust himself to speak. It was the first time since he’d known her that she’d spoken of her childhood. He reached for her hand and then cleared his throat.
“Tory?”
“Hmm?”
“You don’t have to go home by yourself anymore.”
***
It was ten minutes after eight the next morning when the phone rang, startling Brett and waking Tory. They both rolled toward the sound, wanting it to stop. Brett grabbed it first, and his voice sounded more like an angry growl from a bear whose slumber had been disturbed than a man who’d just awakened.
“Hello?”
“It’s me, Ryan. What the hell’s going on up there?”
Brett sat up, combing his hair with his fingers and rubbing sleep from his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and good morning to you, too.”
“Turn on the television—now!” Ryan ordered. “Channel four. Victoria is all over the news.”
Brett’s heart did a flip-flop, and he hit the floor running, taking the portable phone with him as he headed for the living room.
Tory sat up in bed. Something was wrong!
“Brett?” He didn’t answer. “What’s wrong?” When he kept running, she jumped up and followed him. The last thing she expected to see was her picture being flashed on the morning news.
“Oh, my gosh.”
She stared in disbelief.
“According to unnamed sources, a deathbed confession from the state prison in McAlester yesterday could be the answer to an unsolved mystery that began years ago at a rural house just outside of Calico Rock, Arkansas.
“Victoria Lancaster, a local photojournalist of national renown, was abandoned at the age of—”
She took the remote from Brett and hit the mute button. Dumbfounded by this turn of events, she didn’t know what to do.
“How did they find out?”
He snorted rudely. “How do they find out about anything? Somebody talked for money, that’s how.”
“But what am I going to do?”
He handed her the phone. “For starters, talk to Ryan. I need a cup of coffee.”
She stared, first at Brett’s bare backside as he walked away, then down at the phone. She sighed and put it to her ear.
“Good morning, Ryan, how have you been?”
“Don’t go anywhere until I get there,” he said.
“You don’t need to—”
“Yes, I do,” he argued. “Tell Brett to stay put until I get there. I should arrive around noon.”
“Okay, but I don’t think—”
The line began to buzz. He’d disconnected.
Tory followed Brett into the kitchen and handed him the phone. “He hung up.”
Brett frowned. “That’s weird. Didn’t he say anything else?”
“Yes. To stay put. He’ll be here before noon.”
***
True to his word, Ryan Hooker pulled into the driveway at a quarter to twelve. But neither of them realized it was Ryan until he parked and got out. The Chevy four-by-four that he normally drove had been replaced by a brand-new, self-contained motor home. Brett whistled beneath his breath and went to the door.
“Have mercy, brother. That’s some set of wheels.”
Ryan dropped the keys in Brett’s hand and then slapped him on the back.
“Yeah, and if you put a dent in it, I’ll take it out of your hide.”
Brett stared at the keys and then up at Ryan. “Why would we need—”
Ryan saw Tory standing in the doorway. “You’re going to Arkansas, aren’t you?”
She nodded. “But how did you know?”
“Because if that was my mother, I’d be going, too. As for the motor home, you’ll be needing a place to stay. And I looked Calico Rock up in my atlas. It’s a pretty small town, so housing will be limited. Add to that the media that’s bound to converge on the place, and you’ve got yourself a mess. Besides, I figured you’d rather be on-site. With that rig, you can be.” He looked away, unwilling to talk about why they were going. “It’s a real nice motor home. I think you’ll be more comfortable in it than in some motel.”
Tory’s chin began to quiver, and her eyes filled with tears as she moved to where they were standing.
“Ryan Hooker, how can we ever thank you?”
Slightly embarrassed, he still managed to grin as he hugged her. “Hell, Tory, don’t make such a big deal out of it,” he said. “Don’t you know yet that’s what families are for?”
Tory looked at Brett over Ryan’s shoulder, and the smile on her face was one he’d never seen.
“No,” she said. “I didn’t, but I’m learning.”
Ryan patted her on the back and then turned to Brett. “Give me the keys to your car.”
“But—”
“I need a way to get home, remember? When you guys start home from Arkansas, just swing by Enid and we’ll trade vehicles then. Okay?”
Brett handed his brother his keys. “Had it all figured out, didn’t you?”
Ryan grinned. “Somebody had to get you two in gear. Be glad it was me and not Mom.”
A short while later, Ryan left. He hadn’t been gone more than a few minutes when the phone began to ring. Brett answered, already leery of who else might be calling.
“Hooker residence.”
&n
bsp; “Brett, Don Lacey. Is there anything my office can do for you and Victoria?”
Relieved that it was his boss and not some reporter, Brett dropped into a nearby chair. “At this point, Don, I don’t know what to tell you. Our main objective is to start the ball rolling with the Arkansas authorities so they’ll investigate the site.”
“If it would help, I’d be more than happy to make a few calls. I know some people up that way.”
Brett exhaled slowly. One less hurdle he would have to clear himself.
“Thanks, Don. That would be great.”
“No problem,” Lacey said. “Oh, and give Victoria my regards. Tell her we’re with her all the way.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll do just that.” He disconnected and went outside to look for Tory. She was coming out of the motor home with a smile on her face.
“You won’t believe what’s in there.”
Brett took her in his arms. “Lacey sends his regards and says to tell you that everyone in the office is behind you all the way.”
She couldn’t hide her surprise. “That’s really nice.” She turned to look at the motor home once more. “I never knew people could be so thoughtful.”
Brett put his arm around her as they started into the house. “That’s because you didn’t know the right people.” He kicked the door shut and took her into his arms. “Sweetheart, what do you say we get packed and get out of here? I keep expecting some camera crew to show up any minute, and frankly, that’s the last thing you need to deal with, okay?”
She nodded. “It won’t take me long.”
“Just pack comfortable clothes. Stuff you won’t mind getting dirty. It’s bound to be—”
When Brett realized what he’d been about to say, he stopped himself in midsentence. This wasn’t just anyone they were going to dig up. It was her mother. And from the look on Tory’s face, she was remembering it, too.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t think.”
“It’s okay, Brett. I’m just glad I don’t have to face this alone.”
Brett wrapped his arms around her, rocking her gently as they stood. And yet in spite of his presence, Tory felt a tiny little pain digging itself deeper into the middle of her chest. She wouldn’t ever know peace until this was over.