by Terri Reed
“But you don’t believe that.” Roman wanted to think she’d only fallen, but everything inside him screamed foul.
“No, I don’t.” Her intelligent eyes regarded him with frank honesty. “I think Dylan Renault raped her.”
Hearing her say the words pierced through every conceivable argument summoned in self-defense.
Dylan had raped Leah.
The knowledge seared him all the way to his soul.
And not just because now he’d established motive.
“She quit her job the next day, which I thought was telling.”
He worked to gather his composure. “So three months later, she realized she was pregnant with Sarah.” Which was in line with the town gossip Mort had heard. Sarah Farley was a Renault by blood.
Shelby bit her lip. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess. Leah started seeing Earl almost immediately after that night. He’d shown interest in her for several months prior but she hadn’t reciprocated the interest until a few days after the party.”
Sad wistfulness entered Shelby’s gaze. “She seemed really content with Earl, and I was happy for her. They were married within a few months and then announced that she was pregnant. We never spoke of the Christmas party again.”
Shelby made a helpless gesture with her hand as tears gathered in her eyes. “I should have made her talk to me. I can’t help but feel that if I had, somehow none of this would have happened.”
Roman frowned, not sure how to console this woman. “I know Leah wouldn’t want you to feel guilty.”
She gave him a wan smile. “You sound as though you know her well.”
Did he? Maybe. At least he had come to know the woman she was now. But the woman she had been before losing her memory?
Was that woman capable of murdering her husband and the father of her child in order to keep her secret?
If so, what was he going to do about it?
When Roman picked Leah up in front of Jocelyn’s office, his marked silence made her already-knotted nerves that much more tightly bunched. She found it strange that he didn’t ask how the session with the psychologist had gone.
Finally, she couldn’t take the grim silence anymore. “I really liked Jocelyn. She and I were evidently good friends. And she is helping Sarah. She thinks Sarah saw something the night Earl died.”
He glanced at her then. “Was she able to help you remember the night of Earl’s murder?”
Leah frowned. The tone in his voice made her think he thought she was there at the scene. “I don’t remember his death.”
“He was angry with you,” he stated.
“Yes.”
“Because he found out Sarah wasn’t his child,” he said, his voice low, intense.
Her breath hitched. “How did you know?”
“How did Earl find out about Sarah?”
“I don’t…I can’t remember it all,” she hedged as her heart pounded in her ears.
Would Roman think Sarah’s paternity was motive enough for Leah to commit murder? Would he turn her in now?
“I talked with another friend of yours today, Shelby Mason,” Roman said as he pulled the truck to the side of the road under a cypress tree.
Jocelyn had mentioned Shelby. Leah had no memory of her, but obviously they had been close if she’d told Shelby about Sarah. She swallowed. Unsure how to feel about this information, she asked, “What did she say?”
He turned to face her. “Do you remember the Renault Christmas party four years ago?”
Everything inside her recoiled, yet no specific memory surfaced, only a sense of impending doom and a deep certainty that that night must have been when Dylan raped her. But how could she voice this to Roman?
He reached out to run a finger down her cheek, capturing a tear she hadn’t realized she’d shed. “What happened with Dylan?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I can’t remember.”
“You can’t, or you won’t?”
She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. The gentleness in his dark eyes floored her. “Maybe both.”
“Is Sarah Dylan’s child?”
Leah swallowed back the bile that rose. She didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to go down this road. But she cared too much about Roman to lie to him. Slowly, she inclined her head. “I believe so.”
“Because he raped you.”
She cringed at the stark, awful words. “I only just remembered that with Jocelyn’s help. Please, don’t tell anyone else.”
His dark eyebrows drew together. “Shelby Mason was with you at that party. She always thought that was what happened, but you would never talk about it.”
So even when she did have her memory, she’d been living in denial. “Earl somehow found out. That’s why he was so angry that night.”
Roman searched her face. “What happened the day of Earl’s death?”
“I told you, I can’t remember,” she pleaded. He had to understand. He had to believe her. “I wish I could.”
“Leah, this changes everything,” Roman said, his voice full of regret. “I can’t continue to hide you. We need to get you a good lawyer.”
She closed her eyes as his meaning hit her square in the chest. She knew what he had to do…turn her over to the authorities. As much as she wanted to protest, she’d come to care for him too much to allow him to continue to sacrifice his honor and integrity by hiding her. Especially when it was clear he now thought she’d murdered two men.
Taking a bracing breath, she said, “I know. It’s time for me to go to the police.”
His grim expression tore at her heart. “It’s the only way if you ever hope to get your daughter back.”
But not if she were convicted of murder.
Roman really wanted to believe in Leah’s innocence, but doubts clouded his judgment. Turning her in had been the right thing to do. No matter how painful. Justice came with a price.
But handing her over to Sheriff Bradford Reed was a toxic weed to swallow. Karl’s investigation had turned up nothing that pointed to the sheriff being involved in the murders or Leah’s kidnapping. But Sheriff Reed couldn’t hide the gloating in his dull, yellowing eyes when they had walked by. Roman was sure the sheriff saw bringing Leah in as his crowning glory before retirement.
Thankfully, Leah had thought to call her friend, Dr. Pierce, who assured Leah that her husband, Sam, an FBI agent, would be coming in on the investigation. At least with an outsider involved, Leah would get a fair shake. And with Dr. Pierce’s testimony that Leah suffered from amnesia, the courts would have to give her the benefit of the doubt. At least, Roman prayed so.
Poor Colleen was beside herself without Leah. Aching for the older woman, Roman had made it clear that she could stay at the Peel house for as long as she wanted. Colleen had been adamant that she wasn’t leaving town with Leah rotting in jail alone, which made Roman feel even worse for leaving town now.
As Roman and Mort packed up to leave, Roman couldn’t quell the relentless feeling that he was abandoning Leah. He told himself he had fulfilled his commitment. He’d found the woman accused of killing Earl Farley, and soon he’d collect his money from Dennis. Then Roman’s debt of honor to Dennis would be paid in full. End of story. Her guilt or innocence shouldn’t be his concern.
Only he couldn’t shake the knowledge that someone who was willing to kill Leah, Colleen and him was still out there. Regardless of Sheriff Reed’s assurance of Leah’s safety in his custody, every protective instinct inside Roman screamed a protest as he threw his stuff into the truck.
His heart squeezed painfully in his chest. He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t leave Leah in jail, not when the danger still lurked. The plates on the red sports car had turned up stolen. A dead end there. And Mort hadn’t been able to locate Chuck Peters—the bum who’d seen something—something that could exonerate Leah. Sheriff Reed hadn’t been even remotely interested when Roman told him about the drunk’s story.
There was only one other person in Lo
omis who would want to help clear Leah’s name, and who might know where to find the bum.
Roman climbed into the truck with Mort and said, “We’re going to go see Clint Herald, Leah’s brother.”
Clint’s business was located in an old Victorian home that he’d converted into office space. The receptionist had shown Roman directly into Clint’s office. The last time Roman had seen Clint he’d informed him he was going to find Earl Farley’s murderer. Clint’s sister.
At the time Roman had been sure Leah was guilty. Now he wasn’t sure. Not sure at all. His heart told him she wouldn’t do something so evil, yet a nagging doubt lingered. Roman didn’t know the woman she’d been, only the woman she was now. And wasn’t that what mattered? The question really was, were they the same woman?
“You found my sister and you turned her over to the sheriff?” Clint Herald’s outrage made the cords along the column of his neck taut as he rounded the corner of his desk. Though older than his sister, Clint had the same dark hair and eyes. The family resemblance between the siblings was strong.
Roman held up his hand. “I arranged for her to have the best lawyer in Baton Rouge. Clive Gerade is on his way down as we speak.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner.”
Roman cocked a brow. “You were on vacation. I left you a message.”
Clint ran a hand through his dark hair. “I have to see her.”
“There’s something else you have to understand,” Roman said. “She has amnesia.”
“Amnesia?” Clint’s stunned expression made it clear that he hadn’t thought of that possibility. “So that’s why she stayed away so long. I knew there had to be an explanation. Leah wouldn’t just abandon Sarah. Ever.” Clint strode across his office, toward the door. “I have to go see my sister.”
“Wait,” Roman said. “I need your help finding someone. Someone who might be able to help Leah.”
Clint frowned. “You said you already hired a lawyer.”
“The other night, Leah and I ran into a red-haired bum—Chuck Peters, a friend of mine—who might have information about the murders,” Roman stated. “We need to find him.”
“Chuck?” Clint made a face. “He’s drunk so often I doubt the sheriff would take anything the man said seriously.”
“You know him?”
“Yeah, I know him. The whole town knows him.”
“Well, what the sheriff will or will not believe is irrelevant. All we need is someone to establish reasonable doubt in the minds of a jury, if this case ever gets that far. Believe me, I’ve see less scrupulous characters take the stand and sway a jury. Chuck may be Leah’s only chance.”
“Fine, I’ll help you find Chuck—after I see Leah.”
“Fair enough. Let’s go.”
Leah sat in the dank, muggy jail cell and struggled not to let self-pity overwhelm her. Sweat dripping from her brow mingled with her tears, and she gave them an impatient swipe. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed. “Dear God, please help me remember. If I did harm to anyone, I need to know. And if not, then please help me out of this mess.”
The sound of footsteps echoed in the cement cubicle, and the ominous noise sent a ripple of fear cascading over her flesh. Then the sheriff was at the bars, followed closely by a tall, dark-haired man.
“Mrs. Farley, your brother is here to see you,” the sheriff intoned with a dose of irritation.
Leah rose from the single cot and approached the bars. She studied the man staring at her with tears in his eyes. The darkness of his hair and eyes matched her own. But his sculptured face was that of a stranger.
“It’s really you,” he said. “I’ve been going out of my mind with worry.”
The voice didn’t even sound familiar. Her hands gripped the bars. Disappointment ran ice cold through her veins. She didn’t know what to say but the truth. It hurt her heart to think she couldn’t even recall her own brother. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember you.”
His crestfallen expression only served to hurt her more. “Is Sarah safe?” she asked.
Eager hopefulness stole across his face. “You remember her?”
She didn’t realize she could hurt any worse than she already did. “No.”
A pained expression crossed Clint’s features. “She’s safe. I’ve taken good care of her. I hired a wonderful woman to help me, and she’s become much more than that to us now. Sarah’s going to be so happy to see you,” Clint said as he used the back of his hand to wipe away his tears. He visibly gathered himself. “Roman told me you have amnesia.”
Her heart quickened. “You spoke with Roman?”
Clint nodded. “Yes, he’s arranging for your bail.”
She couldn’t believe it. She’d expected that he’d be far from this dreadful town by now, already moving on to another job. But he wasn’t. He was here, arranging for her bail. Tenderness welled up, choking her. He hadn’t abandoned her, after all. Thank You, Lord.
A whirring hiss bounced off the walls and drew Leah’s attention. A matronly woman draped in pearls rolled forward in an electric wheelchair, followed closely by a tall, thin man dressed in a stark black suit.
Clint’s surprised and angry expression alerted Leah that this was not a friend.
“Charla Renault? You have got to be kidding me,” Clint muttered. “Mrs. Renault, what are you doing here?”
The chair came to an abrupt halt beside Clint. The distinct floral scent of perfume teased Leah’s nose and tickled something deep in her mind. She didn’t have the time to dwell on it as Mrs. Renault turned her sharp-eyed gaze to Leah.
“I came to see for myself that—” she pointed one bony finger in Leah’s direction “—this woman was truly behind bars.” Charla Renault’s green eyes narrowed viciously, and hatred fairly crackled in the air around the older woman. “My darling son is dead because of you. Make no mistake, you’ll pay.”
The ferociousness of her vehement words sent chills slithering down Leah’s spine. Leah remained silent. Her heart beat so hard in her chest she heard the sound echo off the walls, but then Roman stalked forward and Leah realized she’d simply heard the reverberation of his footfalls as he joined Clint and Charla Renault.
He glowered at Mrs. Renault. “You need to leave.”
Mrs. Renault arched a high eyebrow, obviously affronted. “No one tells me what to do. Especially not some two-bit hoodlum from the bad side of town. Roman Black,” she scoffed. “You look just like your mother, and she was no good, either.”
Leah’s sharp intake of breath filled the small cell. From her side of the bars, she could only watch with dread as Roman’s hands curled into fists. Clint stepped closer to Roman as if he thought Roman the type of man who would strike a woman. Leah knew different, even if the woman provoked violence.
“Here, now, break it up.” Sheriff Reed charged into the middle of the group. “Mrs. Renault, I told you to wait for me. Bosworth, would you please see Mrs. Renault to my office?”
The man named Bosworth seemed resigned as he stepped closer. “Come along, Ms. Charla, this way.”
She waved away his efforts to maneuver her chair. “Leave me be, Bosworth. I’m not a ninny you can push around.” Charla turned her attention back to Leah. Her lip curled in a nasty sneer. “You’ll fry for my son’s death, and I can’t wait.”
Leah shuddered as Charla turned her chair around and motored away.
“Sheriff, unlock the door,” Roman barked, his hands still fisted and his dark eyes alight with anger.
“All in good time,” Sheriff Reed said. “Now listen, young lady, your bail has been posted, but you are not to leave town. No more disappearing acts.”
“She was kidnapped, Sheriff.” Roman ground the words out between his teeth.
Roman was sticking up for her. Warmth for this man curled through Leah.
“So she says,” Reed replied, his tone echoing with disbelief as he unlocked the door. “Mind you, the FBI will be arriving soon and they want to question you
both,” he said before shuffling away.
Grateful to be free, Leah slipped into Roman’s embrace. “Thank you.”
His expression softened. “You’re welcome. Let’s get out of here,” Roman said, and steered her toward the exit.
Clint stepped close and touched Leah’s hand. She curled her fingers around his, thankful for his support even if she didn’t remember him.
A few feet from the exit, Charla Renault’s strident voice stopped them in their tracks.
“What do you mean, you’ve let her go! How dare you! I’ll have your job for this, Bradford!”
“I suggest we hurry before she notices us,” Clint stated dryly.
The three nodded in agreement and pushed through the station door. Once outside, Roman led them across the street into the park and stopped at a picnic table.
The lush green lawn that made up the majority of the park was full of children out of school for the summer. The merry laughter filled the air and lessened the tenseness of Leah’s nerves.
Clint ran a hand through his hair as he stood by the table. “Help me understand what’s happened.”
Roman made a gesture for Leah to talk. She sat on the top of the table and planted her feet on the bench. “Last January I awoke in a ditch about an hour’s distance outside of town with no memory of who I was or how I got there.”
“Where have you been living?”
She told him of the woman who’d given her food and shelter for the past six months and of how much Colleen had come to mean to her.
“I will be glad to meet this woman and tell her thank you,” Clint said.
“You said Sarah was safe, but how is she?” Leah asked.
“Coping as best a three-year-old can considering her mother disappeared and someone tried to kidnap her,” he replied, and met her gaze.
Guilt and grief that her poor innocent child had become a pawn in this horrible mess grabbed a choke hold on Leah’s throat and squeezed. Leah tried not to cry.
“We heard about the incident, but the papers didn’t have much coverage,” Roman said.