Her Last Chance

by Terri Reed

  Leah hesitated. They’d been friends once, or so the woman had been quoted saying. Leah prayed their friendship would stand the test of this mess. But she wasn’t going to take any chances. Not over the phone. If Jocelyn recognized her when she arrived, at least Leah would have time to beg for her cooperation. “Abigail. Abigail Lang.”

  “I look forward to working with you, Abigail.”

  Leah hung up and began to shake. Roman’s hands came to rest on her shoulders. “You okay?”

  She turned and wrapped her arms around his solid frame, feeling as if she were clinging to the only anchor left in the storm she’d found herself in. He held her stiffly, nothing like he had the night before when he’d allowed her to kiss him and kissed her back.

  Confused by his aloofness, she drew away enough to stare into his face, noting the hard lines around his mouth and the detachment in his cool gaze. She couldn’t help the spurt of disappointment when he let go and stepped back, putting more distance between them.

  “I have to talk with Mort. Be ready to go about twenty to two,” he said, and left her standing in the middle of the parlor, feeling alone and insecure about the future.

  After filling Mort in on the information Olsen had supplied and giving him instructions to track down the drunk from the alley, Roman made a phone call to the local library. Once he had the information he needed, he debated changing into more appropriate attire for interviewing a witness. Dressing all in black held a certain amount of intimidation that Roman found useful. He decided to stay with his disguise. Looking like a tourist wouldn’t garner nearly the attention his black ensemble would.

  He found Leah in the kitchen with Colleen. They were sharing a sandwich and soda.

  He waved off her offer of food. “We should get going. Mort will drive us into town.”

  She cleared away her plate and put on a hat and a pair of dark, round sunglasses. “What do y’all think of my disguise?”

  “Very nice.” He had to admit she didn’t look anything like the waif he’d first encountered. She’d slicked all of her short curls back and tucked them under the wide-brimmed straw hat perched on her head. She wore a long-sleeved blouse buttoned to the chin beneath overalls that hid every curve and angle of her slender frame. He hoped the disguise worked.

  With Mort at the wheel of the truck, Roman slouched down in the passenger seat and really looked at the town. Flat-roofed, brick buildings lined one side of Main Street. Near the middle of town an inviting park stretched for at least a mile. Tall live oaks and pines draped with Spanish moss dotted the park, providing some shaded relief from the heat.

  A picturesque gazebo stood near the center like a grand old lady holding court. Just past the park were more brick buildings and at the corner, the pawnshop, with Dr. Pierce’s office across the street.

  Roman twisted in the seat to search Leah’s face. “Are you ready for this?”

  Though she looked terrified, she nodded. A wave of admiration washed over him and warred with the suspicions Olsen had aroused. Leah certainly didn’t lack backbone.

  “Mort, circle back around so she can get out right in front of the office.” He didn’t want her walking around where she might bump into someone who could see past the disguise.

  Mort went around the block and then brought the truck to a halt directly in front of Dr. Pierce’s office door. Roman climbed out and helped Leah out of the cab. He held her hand for a moment, wishing he could reassure her that she’d be fine, that she wasn’t a murderer. But he just wasn’t so sure anymore himself.

  Leah entered the office with her heart in her throat. Please, Lord, don’t let me be making a mistake.

  The small outer waiting room was empty and the door to the doctor’s office closed. Keeping her disguise in place, Leah poured herself a cup of water from the pitcher on the mahogany sideboard. Her hand shook as she lifted the cup to her mouth. The cool liquid slid down and she savored the sensation. Behind her, the doctor’s-office door opened. Leah braced herself for this encounter with a stranger as she turned. Even through the dark lenses of her sunglasses, she could see that the tall, slender woman standing in the doorway was beautiful, with dark blond hair and compassionate blue eyes.

  Jocelyn Pierce smiled, showing pretty white teeth. “You must be Abigail.” She came forward with her hand outstretched.

  Leah tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry despite the water she’d drank. Something in the deep recesses of her mind stirred, and Leah wasn’t sure if she should be afraid or relieved. Politeness required she shake the doctor’s hand, but all Leah wanted to do was turn and run.

  “Thank you for seeing me,” Leah managed to say.

  “Please, come in.” Dr. Pierce indicated the other room. “I have a few forms for you to fill out.”

  Leah followed the doctor into a beautifully appointed office where medical degrees dominated one wall. In the corner, a toy box overflowing with dolls and Tonka trucks waited to be played with. Had Sarah played here while the doctor tried to help her understand her mommy’s disappearance? Leah’s heart ached at the thought.

  Leah took the offered forms from the doctor and sat in the leather chair facing the desk. A picture of the doctor and a very handsome man sat at an angle on the desktop so that occupants on both sides of the mahogany desk could view the framed photo. Leah dropped her gaze to the forms but didn’t write anything.

  “Would you like to tell me why you’re here today?”

  Leah licked her lips and lifted her gaze. How did she begin to explain? “I…I need some help.”

  Dr. Pierce’s blue eyes were vivid with curiosity. “If I can, I will. Why don’t you tell me what the problem is.”

  Feeling suddenly ridiculous in the hat and glasses, Leah stripped both away.

  Doctor Pierce gasped. “Leah?”

  Her heart stalled and then jammed against her ribs. She jumped from the chair and started toward to the door. “This was a mistake.”

  Dr. Pierce rose. “Wait! What’s going on? Leah, where have you been? I’ve been so worried about you. We all have.”

  Fearful, yet so desperate to believe her, Leah hesitated, her hand on the doorknob. “You have? Really?”

  The doctor frowned and came around the desk. “Leah, tell me what’s happening. Don’t you know me?”

  Tears gathered at the corners of Leah’s eyes. She shook her head. “No, I don’t. See, that’s just it. I can’t remember anything.”

  “Oh, my,” the doctor said, her eyes widening with understanding. “You have amnesia. Wow. Oh, honey.”

  Amazed to see tears in this woman’s eyes, Leah stepped away from the door. “We were friends once, right?”

  Jocelyn nodded. “Yes. Oh, Leah, I feel so awful that I wasn’t here for you. You left that cryptic message on my machine and then you disappeared.” She placed a hand over her heart. “I feared you were dead.”

  “Someone wants me dead,” Leah stated, trying to stem the tears that were flowing so freely now that she had found a friend from her past.

  “We have to call Sam,” Jocelyn exclaimed, and moved back to her desk.

  Not sure who Sam was, but sensing a threat, Leah said, “No, you can’t tell anyone I’m here. Please. Trust me on this. It’s too dangerous.”

  Jocelyn paused. “I think you need to explain to me what’s going on.”

  “Yes, I do.” Leah sat once again in the leather chair. “And I hope you can help me to regain my memory. But first, do you know how Sarah is?”

  Jocelyn’s face brightened. “You remember her?”

  Leah shook her head. “Sadly, no.”

  Jocelyn sighed. “Sarah’s safe. She misses you. I’ve been working with her, but it’s so hard when they’re young. Though we have discovered she’s afraid of women with long red hair. All except Shelby, of course.”

  Leah’s pulse sped up. The drunk last night had also been afraid of a woman with red hair. Could it be the same woman? “Why is she afraid?”

  “She saw
something the night Earl died,” Jocelyn said.

  “She did?” Leah’s heart constricted in her chest. She tried to remember that night, but a throbbing at her temple was her only reward. “Who’s Shelby?”

  “Our friend. Your best friend.”

  She had a best friend? More determined than ever, Leah said, “Please, you have to help me remember.”

  Jocelyn skipped her own chair and came around to sit beside Leah. She gathered her hands in hers. “I still can’t believe you’re here. Of course I’ll help you. Tell me everything.”

  Leah did, starting from the moment she awoke to the moment she entered the office. Jocelyn sat back with a stunned expression on her face. “I really should call Sam.”

  “Who’s Sam?”

  Jocelyn’s expression softened. “My husband. We were married a few months ago. He’s with the FBI, he’ll be able to protect you.”

  Sam Pierce. Leah recalled he was named in one of the articles she’d read. She shook her head and held tightly to Jocelyn’s hand. “No. Not yet. Roman will protect me.”

  “But it sounds like he’s in danger, too,” Jocelyn said.

  Her insides twisted with guilt. “Yes, he is.” She pleaded with her friend. “Please, you have to help me. Is there hypnotherapy or something you can do to make my memory come back?”

  “There’s no magic cure, Leah. The mind is a complex organ. It sounds like you’ve regained some memory, and we can build on that. We’ll talk through the memories that have surfaced and pray that more will rise up.”

  Not the quick, easy fix she was hoping for, but it felt good to have another person on her side. Would Jocelyn’s husband be a supporter or would he be of the mind that she was guilty until proven innocent? “Maybe we should start with the fight Earl and I had.”

  Jocelyn nodded in agreement. “Good idea. Close your eyes, let your mind drift to the closet in your apartment. You’re there with Earl.”

  Leah relaxed and tried to let the images flow. “He’s so angry,” Leah whispered, flinching from the memory.

  “What is he saying?”

  “He’s cursing at me, calling me horrible names. He’s accusing me of…” It was right there, yet out of reach. The names reverberated around her head, painting an ugly picture. She winced. “He thinks I’ve slept with someone else.”

  Nausea turned her stomach. Was she the type of person to cheat on her husband?

  “An affair?” Surprise rang in Jocelyn’s voice.

  “He’s in a rage. Asking how I could have deceived him all these years.” The memory didn’t make sense. “He says he’s going to make Dylan pay. Shake him down.”

  “Dylan? Hmm.”

  Something in her tone drew Leah’s attention. She opened her eyes. “What? What do you know?”

  The sympathy in Jocelyn’s blue eyes didn’t bode well. “When Dylan died, his last words were Sarah’s father.”

  Leah heart raced in confusion. “Why would he talk about Earl at his death? Earl died before Dylan. This doesn’t make sense.”

  “I don’t think Dylan meant Earl, he meant himself. That he was Sarah’s father,” Jocelyn explained gently.

  Feeling as if she had taken a punch to the solar plexus, Leah blinked. “I don’t understand.”

  “Was Dylan Sarah’s biological father?”

  Leah broke out in a sweat. The room spun. She yanked her hands from Jocelyn’s to grip the armrests of the chair. Dylan. Sarah. Biological. No. No, no, no.

  Her breathing came fast and shallow. From a long distance she could hear the concern in Jocelyn’s voice but her words wouldn’t compute. Dylan. Sarah’s father.

  Earl’s words made sense now. She understood why he’d called her those awful names and why he’d accused her of lying to him. He wasn’t Sarah’s father, and he’d somehow found out.

  But he didn’t understand. She’d hadn’t had an affair with Dylan.

  She remembered now.

  Dylan had raped her.

  And she didn’t want anyone to know.

  SEVEN

  The Loomis library parking lot was nearly full when Roman pulled the truck into a space after he’d dropped Mort off downtown with instructions to see if any of the locals knew the whereabouts of the man he had now discovered from Deputy Olsen was Chuck Peters, the town drunk.

  The lush lawn surrounding the library sported stone benches beneath flowering dogwood trees. Roman headed toward the stone steps leading to the entrance of the large brick building. Through the high arched windows, shelves brimming with books were visible. Not much had changed on the outside since he was a kid.

  He entered the building and noted that the inside seemed brighter and the red carpet beneath his boots looked new. He went directly to the circulation desk. The gray-haired woman behind the counter smiled at him. The badge she wore said her name was Miss Maynard. “Do you need a library card, young man?”

  “No, I’m actually here to see Shelby Mason. Is she available?”

  The woman’s eyebrows rose. “She’s in the reference section upstairs. Are you a relative?”

  Roman forced a polite smile. “No, ma’am.”

  He headed up the stairs and followed the signs directing him to the reference section. A young woman with long red hair stood, stacking big volumes of books onto a cart. The red hair stopped him cold. Was the story she’d told the police about Leah only fiction to keep the focus off herself? Librarian by day, accomplice to murder by night?

  Suspicion churned in his gut. He’d get to the truth soon enough. “Miss Mason?”

  She straightened and stared at him in surprise. “Yes, may I help you?”

  “I hope so.” He held out his hand. “My name is Roman Black, and I’m investigating the deaths of Earl Farley and Dylan Renault.”

  She extracted her hand and her expression closed. “I don’t have any more to tell you people.”

  Aware that she’d assumed he was with the police, Roman chose not to correct her. He walked a fine line between truth and fiction. He’d become good at not crossing it.

  If the circumstances were different and he wasn’t considering her an accomplice to murder, he might warn her to always ask for ID when approached by anyone claiming to be the police. But for now, her ignorance worked to his advantage.

  “It’s very important you cooperate, Miss Mason. Is there somewhere private that we can talk or would you rather do this here?” he said.

  She gave him a measuring stare. He stared right back.

  She sighed. “This way.”

  Roman followed her to a small, glass-enclosed conference room. When the door was firmly shut, he said, “In your statement to the police, you claimed that you and Leah were both drugged during a Renault company Christmas party, is that correct?”

  She pursued her lips. “Yes, that is correct.”

  “But you never reported it until after Dylan Renault was dead. Why is that?”

  “I had no proof.”

  “You still don’t.”

  “No, I don’t. I just have my memory of that night.”

  Roman watched her eyes for any signs of lying. He didn’t see any guile. “Tell me, Miss Mason, what exactly happened that night.”

  “I already told all of this to Agent Pierce,” she said impatiently.

  “I understand, but I need to hear you tell me what happened. Please, it’s very important.” Miss Mason’s story could be the key to unlocking Leah’s memory. And providing motive for murder. He suddenly had a bad case of heartburn.

  “It didn’t seem all that important a few months ago,” she said. “Y’all still think Leah had something to do with Earl’s and Dylan’s death. I am sure she didn’t. Leah was…is my best friend in the whole world. I knew her better than anyone, and I tell you she wouldn’t do something so evil.”

  She sounded so sincere, and since neither the sheriff nor the FBI had connected Miss Mason to the crimes despite the woman’s long red hair, Roman decided to appeal to her friendship with Leah. “Lea
h is why I’m here. She is in grave danger and any information you have could help us.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “You know where Leah is? She’s not dead?”

  The eager hopefulness in her lovely eyes gripped Roman. He wanted to assure her Leah was safe. “I’m trying to bring her home, and I need to know what happened the night of the Renault Christmas party.”

  Shelby put her hand to her heart. “Of course. Anything, if it will help Leah. You see, she worked for Dylan Renault. He’d been hitting on her for months. This was before she’d married Earl, not that her being married would have stopped Dylan…Anyway, Leah wasn’t interested, so she’d begged me to go with her to the company party.”

  “Where was this party?”

  “At the Renault home.”

  “So you went,” Roman prodded.

  “I did, mainly to run interference with Dylan. Dylan wasn’t a man who was used to hearing no. At the party, he wouldn’t leave Leah alone. We both were drinking ginger ale, but at one point Dylan brought us cups of punch. A little later, Leah said she felt sick and within a matter of minutes, so did I. It was very strange.”

  “So you think he drugged the punch?” Anger simmered in Roman’s belly. Only a degenerate would stoop so low.

  Shelby gave a grim nod. “Yes, I do. The room started spinning, and I thought I was going to be sick. Someone helped me to a sofa in a quiet room.”

  She gave a delicate shrug of her slim shoulders. “That’s the last thing I remember. I awoke the next morning still on that couch, and Leah was gone. A maid told me Dylan had taken Leah home because she wasn’t feeling well. At the time, I was angry thinking she’d left me there. So I went straight to her apartment.”

  A lump of dread hit Roman, making any intake of air suddenly a chore. “And she told you what?”

  Shelby shook her head. “She wouldn’t talk about the party at all. I knew something was wrong because she wouldn’t look me in the eye. She claimed she’d had a twenty-four-hour bug. I, too, felt like I’d had the flu. But Leah had bruises on her wrists and on her face. She said she’d fallen.”