“Yes. And from what I read in some diaries, it didn’t go over very well with the community. Nor the fact that Esther was an unwed woman with child.”
“No, that wouldn’t have back then.”
It wouldn’t go over very well in Eden in present day either. “Add to that the fact that the other two daughters, Mabel and Laura, ran off with bank robbers, and it gave the town more reasons to judge the Evertons.”
“Condemn,” Ruthann corrected, “the Evertons.”
“Laura and her husband were killed by the law,” I said. “Mabel wrote a letter to Esther and told her. In that letter, Mabel talked about her son.”
“There is an Everton heir.” With wide eyes, Ruthann and Karen stared at each other.
I held out my hand. “May I have the notebook?”
Ruthann pushed it across the table. Karen cupped her grandmother’s hand with her own. The notebook was just out of my reach.
“One more question, Faith. Who?”
“I can’t give a name.”
“Is the true heir the person who hired Steve?” Karen asked.
“You’ll have to ask him.” I rested my fingertips on the edge of the notebook.
With a sigh, Karen released her grandma’s hand. Ruthann tapped the notebook. It was now in my possession.
I picked it up. Dread washed over me. Was I going to like what I was going to find out about Edward?
I went home, after calling Darlene to work my evening shift. I felt bad bailing out, but I wanted to write down everything I learned about Ollie’s death and what were the holes in the case. I had spoken with Wyatt, and there was no news about Lucas. He was still unconscious.
On the opposite side of my crop table from the town scrapbook items, I placed a print out of Lucas’s “appearances,” highlighting when he processed out of the military and the first mention of him being in town from an editorial in the paper about vagrants being allowed to remain in Eden. I opened Edward’s notebook. His thin handwriting was exact, each letter perfectly formed. The date and notation was slanted: Ollie left. For good.
Under that was Walter’s name crossed out and Donald Lucas’s name circled. The next page was diagram of where he found Esther’s diary in the attic along with multiple dates, some crossed out and one circled then underlined. The following page was phone numbers and names of historical society members. Each entry was written in the precise, slanted handwriting.
I wrote down Thursday’s date and Sierra pretending to drop off the items at Scrap This before leaving to attend to whatever shenanigans her boys were up to. The same day, someone had been rummaging around in my car after visiting Georgia. I thought it was a homeless guy looking for change in my unlocked car. What if it had been someone else? Hank. He’d been furious that Georgia had given me stuff from his father’s research.
The notebook called to me. I stared at it. What was I missing? The letters merged into one big blob as I continued to study it. Leaning back, I rubbed my eyes. What was I missing? That was it. The handwriting in Edward’s notebook was similar to the writing in the confession note. Letters slanted. Exact. Precise.
Edward had written that letter to his boys. Edward had kept it from his wife all these years and relieved his conscience by confession to his sons. What a horrible burden to place on them.
My cell rang. Sierra’s number. I debated for a few minutes then answered.
Sierra was crying. “Can the boys and I stay with you tonight?”
My gut clenched, and I tightened my hold on the cell. “What’s wrong?”
“Please?” Her voice was shaky. She sounded scared. Hank.
There was no way I’d turn my back on her. “Of course, do you need me to come get you guys?”
“No, I can get there.”
“Drive safe.”
After I hung up, I called Ted. He didn’t answer. Probably still working the scene. I left a voicemail about Sierra coming over and my suspicions about the note. Edward had written it to his sons, not Lucas to Wayne and Wyatt. I collected the evidence and hid it in the closet.
I moved a vase and small breakable figurine that were sentimental to me into the closet. Better safe than sorry. Things had a way of being destroyed when Sierra’s boys were around. Next, I went into my office. Quickly, I created a password for my computer then turned it off. My grandmother had an old laptop, I’d see if I could borrow it if more entertainment was needed for the boys. It was better to make this an adventure for them. They’d find out soon enough about their father. Poor kids.
The doorbell rang. That was quick. Sierra must’ve called from her car. I ran downstairs and opened the door.
Sierra and Hank stood on my porch. Sierra and my gazes locked for a moment. She looked down, tears trailing down her cheeks. Hank stepped forward. I went to slam the door. He shoved his body inside, knocking me to the ground. She set me up. My emotions were torn between despair and fury.
“Get in.” He motioned to Sierra. She walked in and shut the door behind her.
I rose on shaky legs. “Both of you leave. Now.”
“Where’s my dad’s stuff?” Hank headed for my crop table, zeroed in on the items for the town’s scrapbook. Some of those pictures were irreplaceable.
“Don’t touch any of that.” I ran after him, snagging hold of his arm.
He continued forward. My feet slid across the floor.
“I said leave.”
“Not until I get our stuff back.” Hank shoved pictures and memorabilia to the floor. A black and white photo was crushed under his foot. He heaved a plastic box at the wall. It clattered to the floor, cracking open and spilling out the contents.
“Stop it!” I leaned over, gathering up the precious memories to my chest. “Get out of my house!”
“Where is it?”
“At the police station.”
Hank grabbed my shoulders, hauling me upright. The items slid from my grasp. Hank shook me, fingers biting into my flesh. “Where are they?”
“I don’t have them.”
“You’re a liar.” He raised his hand, palm out.
I broke away from Hank, reaching for my cell stashed in my back pocket. “Get out now, or I’m calling the police.”
Hank rushed me. Screaming, I turned to run upstairs. He caught me around the waist, flinging me onto the couch then pinning me with his body, his hand groping for the phone.
“Get off me!” Tears burned my eyes. I shoved at his chest.
Sierra finally moved toward us, speaking for the first time. “Let’s just leave, Hank. You’re going to hurt her.”
“Wait in the car.”
The front door banged open. Cheryl stood in the threshold, a shotgun aimed at Hank—and me—since I was underneath him.
Her hand shook. “Get off my granddaughter.”
Slowly, Hank released me. His face was contorted into a mask of fury as he stood.
Cheryl walked closer. “I said get away from my grandbaby!”
Hank spun, lunging toward her.
Hell no! I launched myself forward, jumping onto Hank’s back. I held on with one hand, the other I scratched at his face, trying to wrap my legs around his to force him to the floor. “Run grandma! Call the police.”
Sierra huddled in a corner near the door, sobbing.
Hank slammed himself and me against the wall. My head thunked on the drywall. Hank leaned over, then slammed himself back again. I was hanging on for my grandmother’s life.
“Stop or I’ll shoot you,” Cheryl said, tears running down her pale face.
“You wouldn’t.”
“I will.” Officer Mitchell stood in the doorway, a revolver trained on Hank. “Lower the shotgun and get behind me, Mrs. Greyfield. Miss Hunter, let go so I have a clear shot.”
I complied.
Three cars with flashing ligh
ts were parked in front of my house. Chief Moore and my grandmother Hope had arrived a few minutes after Ted. Ted had asked Mitchell to drive by my house and check on us as he feared Hank would come after Sierra. Little did he know, Sierra had used my fears to trick me into letting Hank in my house.
Mitchell led the handcuffed Hank out the door. Ted’s fury filled gaze zeroed in on the back of Hank’s head. Sierra sat on the ground, head resting on her knees as she sobbed. I leaned against the arm of the couch, trying to appear unfazed by what happened so Cheryl wasn’t so upset.
Hope had her arms around her best friends. Cheryl was still shaking and her face pale, gaze drifting from Hank to Sierra.
“Mrs. Brodart, you need to come with me.” Ted took hold of Sierra’s arm, forcing her to stand.
Sierra’s eyes widened. “I didn’t do anything.”
“And that could be a problem for you,” Ted said. “Officer Mitchell wants you to come down to the station for questioning.”
“He can’t do that.” Sierra’s frantic gaze settled on Chief Moore. “Can he?”
“Because of the family relationships involved, Officer Mitchell is the lead in this case.” Chief Moore placed a hand on Hope and Cheryl’s back. “He’ll contact the prosecuting office to ensure everything’s done by the book.”
“Let’s go,” Ted said, hand firmly clamped around Sierra’s arm.
“Faith, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t know Hank would react like that.”
She had watched him push me around on Friday. I had loaned Henry my phone and Sierra returned it. She told him about my call to Walter. “I think you did. I bet he’s also the one who tried to run me over on Friday. You read my call log and texts.”
Sierra’s chin touched her chest, not denying my accusation. My body shook. I was right. She had given me up to not face her husband’s wrath. Ted led her toward the door and the unmarked cruised waiting outside.
“Sierra,” Cheryl said.
Ted paused in the doorway, hand still clamped onto Sierra’s arm. She turned, a hopeful expression on her face. She wanted our forgiveness.
She wasn’t going to get it from me.
“You’re fired,” Cheryl said.
“Hank came here for something?” Chief Moore asked.
“A notebook of his father that he thought his mother gave me.” With a shaking finger, I pointed at my closet. “I put it in there along with a timeline I was making. The handwriting in the notebook will prove that Lucas didn’t write the confession letter. Edward had. Ruthann gave me the notebook this afternoon.”
Bob walked into my house, forcing out a smile. He held out his arm like he was my escort to the prom. “I’m here to take you to Ted’s house.”
“No, I’m fine.” I crossed my arms.
“Faith, aren’t you and Ted doing an experiment?” Hope cut her gaze toward Cheryl, tilting her head to the side.
Experiment? Yesterday’s excuse popped into my brain. Testing houses. Goldilocks and the Three Bears. “That’s right. Tonight, we’re going to see if Ted’s place suits us. I guess I should go pack.”
“See, Cheryl, you can sleepover at your best friend’s place. Randall will be tied up with a few things down at the station, and I was looking forward to a home movie night,” Hope said.
“I don’t know,” Cheryl said. “I’d love to, but Faith shouldn’t be spending the night alone at Ted’s. The town will talk.”
“The town has plenty of other stuff to talk about.” I tried adding some spark and fire to my tone.
“I’ll be there,” Bob said.
Cheryl was still skeptical.
“And Garrison,” Bob added. “He’s on his way from Morgantown.”
Cheryl brightened. Out of all Ted’s family, Garrison was her favorite. “It sounds like we’ll both have a nice evening. Do tell Garrison hello for me.”
“Go pack a bag, Goldilocks,” Bob said.
This was not the way I envisioned the case ending. I stood in Ted’s living room, confused on what to do. Sit down on the couch? Go to the kitchen? Hide in Ted or Claire’s room? One thing I knew for certain, Georgia was wishing she had never asked for my help and hadn’t tried to find out why items were disappearing. Hank had been over at the house every night, systematically getting rid of any evidence of his father’s crime or that proved they weren’t Evertons.
Bob walked down the hall, carrying my bag to Ted’s room. I wrapped my arms around myself, cell phone clenched in one hand, hoping to shake off the chill that entered me the moment I stepped out of my house. I should’ve grabbed a coat on my way out the door.
Why had Sierra—no, don’t think about it. Have a wonderful evening with Bob and Garrison until Ted arrives. The bad was over. Concentrate on the good. Like the fact that since Bob and Garrison were our night’s chaperone, they wouldn’t care if Ted and I shared a room.
“Garrison is stopping for pizza on his way here. Anything you don’t like?” Bob asked.
“I’m not really hungry. I think I’m just going to lay down and...” I wasn’t sure what I’d do. I hadn’t brought any crafts or a book with me. “I’ll just play some games on my phone.”
“Faith, how about we sit and visit?”
“I don’t want to talk.” I went into Ted’s room. The moment I closed Ted’s bedroom, my body shook so bad I collapsed on the bed, my legs unable to hold me up.
My friend betrayed me. She stood by and watched her husband attack me. She wasn’t strong enough to fend him off, but she could’ve called for help. Warned me he was with her. Not put me or my grandmother through the ordeal. My poor grandmother. I loosened my hold on my phone to push the proper number.
Cheryl answered on the first ring.
I forced a smile on my face. It was hard to sound gloomy when you were smiling. “Hi, Grandma. Just wanted to check in.”
“Hope and I are making popcorn for the movie. I hope you’re having a lovely time with Garrison and Bob.”
“Going to have a pizza party. Not as good as your pizza of course.”
“Next time, we’ll have a get together at my place with pizza, movies, and popcorn.”
“I’ll tell them. Bob and Garrison will be delighted,” I said. “Have sweet dreams, Grandma.”
“You too my sweet girl. You too.”
Grandma and I said everything we needed to say without saying it. She’d be okay. So would I. We loved each other. Tonight had a bad memory attached to, but it was only a night, one moment in time and tomorrow would be different. Happy.
So we hoped.
I laid on the bed, curling onto my side. Everything was all right. I was fine. My throat clogged. A tear trickled down my face. I brushed it away. My grandmother was safe. More tears fell and I swiped at them. It was all over.
The sobs broke through. I buried my face in the pillow to muffle them.
The door creaked open. I flipped onto my other side, hiding my face in the pillow.
“Don’t hide from me, sweetheart.” Ted sat me up, gently turned me around so I was cuddled to his chest.
“I didn’t think you’d be home so soon. Not with...everything.”
“I can’t question Lucas until he’s conscious. The Buford family is keeping watch over him. I’m not allowed near the other criminal.” Ted’s voice hardened. “I was in a holding pattern, so Chief Moore told me to go home and make sure my girl was okay.”
“I’m fine. I can take care of myself,” I said, between sobs.
Ted smiled softly, cradling me in his arms. “Of course, you are. You’re one of the most self-reliant people I know. You’re a fighter. But it’s okay to need someone. There’s nothing wrong with allowing your partner to carry the bad that life throws at you. You need a breather from it.” Ted tucked my hair behind my ears, stroking my cheek. “That’s the mistake my ex-wife and I made in our marriage. We shared eve
rything equally in our marriage, money, chores, and time with family, everything except our burdens. We kept those to ourselves. Those burdens shattered us, and we couldn’t fix it. I’m here for you.”
“And I’m here for you.” I lifted my lips.
Ted kissed me tenderly. I felt his smile against my mouth. He pulled back a breaths length, green eyes snapping with humor. “Except for my cases. No sharing. Those are all mine.”
“Brat.” I turned my head, stopping the next kiss. With my mouth no longer near his lips, he trailed the kiss down my jawline to my neck.
I shivered. “Fine. You can keep those to yourself.”
We tumbled over, arms wrapped around each other.
Twenty-Four
My spirits were a little lighter Saturday morning. Ted and I slept peacefully most of the night until he was woken with an early morning call. Lucas had regained consciousness. Without a word, Ted hurried through his morning routine and was out the door. I only knew why he left because I overheard the chief telling Ted. Ted liked his phone volume on the wake-up-the-neighborhood setting.
Bob was sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. I froze in the doorway, scanning the headline for any mention of Hank—or Sierra. Bob peered over the paper.
“Coffee’s done,” he said. “Why don’t you join me?” The tense smile on Bob’s face said he had something to tell me.
I poured a cup and sat down. My hands trembled.
Bob reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “I made some calls this morning to the station. Hank’s in jail and being charged with assault and attempted murder.”
Poor Sierra—no, no sympathy for her. But her boys, those poor children. “Because of me.”
Bob shook his head. “Because of himself, Faith. Evidence points to Hank being the one who attacked Donald Lucas.”
“What?”
“The note was one Edward wrote to his sons. Hank wanted all evidence of his father’s handwriting, and he knew the notebook was missing. His dad always carried one around since his memory was slipping.”
“What’ll happen to Sierra?”
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