by Jan Coffey
“Then you’d better put your seatbelt on. I’m having a little difficulty focusing on the road.”
Léa buckled on the seat belt and returned to where she had left off. “So where were we?”
“You were working on getting us arrested.”
“Oh, yes.” She slid her hand down his stomach and felt every muscle contract. “You do have your hands tight on the wheel, don’t you?”
“Uh, yes I do.” His knuckles were white.
“Good, because there are few things I’ve been dying to tell you, too.” She kissed his jaw. “You are the sexiest man alive.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but Léa ran her fingers down over the front of his jeans. A growl was the only thing that left his throat.
“And the most giving.”
She undid his belt.
“And the most considerate.”
She lowered the zipper.
“And the most loving.”
She slipped her hand into his jeans.
“And I love you.”
The truck bounced as Mick steered off the main highway and down a dirt road into the woods.
“Where are you going?”
“Somewhere that we won’t get arrested—at least not right away.” The truck came to a stop by a pasture fence.
The black and white cows in the field were moderately interested, but Léa didn’t care. As she was undoing her seatbelt, Mick tugged down her shorts. She only had time to kick off one sneaker and get one leg out before he slid across to her. In an instant, she was straddling him on the seat.
Léa lowered herself onto him, taking him in deeply. They writhed together like starved lovers. Neither had patience to go slow, and Léa rode him hard as he lifted her T-shirt and bra out of the way of his mouth.
Their bodies rocked together in a wild and rhythmic dance of love. A fever took hold of her, filling her with pleasure. Then, when Léa thought she could take no more, the truck and the pasture and the golden summer afternoon all disappeared as they exploded together in a tumult of passion.
They clung together, breathless in the aftermath.
“We didn’t use a condom again,” he whispered in her ear.
Léa felt a giggle rise up in her chest. “Well, if I ever do get pregnant, we have a wide range of names we can call her or him.”
“That right?”
“Westinghouse…or GE...or Amana…or Ford…”
“I went to college with a guy with a first name of Ford. We called him Fordie.”
“Well, now you know where he got the name.”
“Never mind about him. Just think, we can go to the World Appliance Home Show for our honeymoon.”
Léa kissed him. “You are the most romantic man in the world.”
“I’m very glad you appreciate me.”
Mick’s cell phone rang. He grumbled and looked up the number. “It’s Heather.”
Léa worked her way off his lap as he answered the phone.
“We’re on our way home.” He handed Léa her sneaker. “Where are we? I don’t know. All I see are fields. We’ll be home in about ten or fifteen minutes.”
“Is she okay?” Léa asked as soon as he hung up.
“Yes. She’s fine. She’s back at the house.”
“We should hurry.” Léa said. “She shouldn’t be there alone.”
Mick kissed her and there was a smile tugging at his lips when he pulled back.
“She’ll be okay,” he said, reassuring her.
Léa found herself drifting in a haze of blissful pleasure for the rest of the ride home. When Mick pulled into Poplar Street, she was surprised to see all the lights on in her house.
“I hope Heather didn’t come here to work alone again.” She got out of the car and climbed up the broken steps. Through the open windows on the porch, she heard voices coming from inside. She glanced over her shoulder and found Mick standing behind her.
“Go in.” He shrugged. “I think she’s left it unlocked.”
Léa’s hand was shaking when she pushed the door open.
She stood gaping at the number of people inside. Some wore tool belts, others wore old work clothes spattered with paint. A man and a woman were coming down the stairs, paint brushes and rollers in hand. Some of the smiling faces were familiar, others were just friendly strangers. She was dumbfounded.
Heather came out from the back of the house. Joanna was right behind her.
Léa heard Andrew Rice’s voice from the sidewalk. “Am I too late for the work party?”
“For the work part, yes,” Joanna called to him. “For the party part, you’re just in time.”
Heather gave Léa a big hug. “Come on, we have so much to show you.”
As the teenager started pulling her into the house, Léa turned and reached for Mick. He took her hand.
“Did you plan this?”
“Everyone did. We want you to stay, Léa.” He smiled at her. “We all do.”
~~~~
Stephanie put the phone down.
With a trembling hand, she picked up her glass of iced tea. The ice cubes rattled. The liquid sloshed over the rim onto her dress. There was moisture on the glass, and before she could get a good grip, it slipped through her fingers and crashed on the tile floor. Splinters of glass flew in every direction.
“Wh-what Rich w-wanted?”
She stared down at the jagged pieces scattered across the kitchen floor. Bob had been watching her when she was on the phone. He was always watching her. She raised her eyes and looked at the wheel chair. At his partially paralyzed body. At the face that had once been handsome. And caring.
He was still caring. He always looked after her.
“There’s been a fire on the mill property. Rich called to let me know.” Stephanie tore few sheets of paper towel off the roll and knelt down on the floor, soaking up the liquid.
“N-no one h-hurt?”
Her hand passed over a jagged piece of glass. Blood streamed out of a cut onto the paper towel. With no regard for it, she continued to wipe the floor.
“Yes, it seems the fire started in Dusty’s trailer. There is a burned body. They suspect it might be him.”
“Y-you’re b-bleed-ding.”
“I am not.”
“S-Steph…”
“I wanted him to die. I never wanted him to come back from the army. We were finished.” The wet towel was red with blood. “Finished. But he came back anyway. Of course, everyone felt sorry for him. He was broken. Lost. No mind left. It was the war. He was harmless. Even I was fooled. I was…fooled.”
A few tears fell on her bleeding hand. She stared at them for a moment and then wiped her cheek with the towel, leaving a scratch and a smudge of blood just below her eye. She dropped the towel on the floor
“I didn’t realize…he was full of hate. He was evil. Crazy evil. Just loved to punish me. He did it…through Marilyn.”
The shards of glass were sharp, piercing the skin of her fingers and the palms of her bare hands as Stephanie swept the glass into a pile.
“He told her. Dusty told her when he was ready. She was not even a teenager. He waited and then told her when he was ready, that he was her father. That I had betrayed him. Him and his love for me. That I married for money. That I betrayed him. Can you imagine?”
Another needle of glass stabbed her. She didn’t even wince from the pain. She looked curiously at the long sliver protruding from her skin before picking up the paper towel again.
“His methods worked. And she was just like him. In every way she was like him. Punishing me. But then that wasn’t enough. She was never happy. Everyone had to suffer.”
Stephanie sat back on her heels and looked out into space.
“She went after Charlie when she was still in school. As far as everyone knew, he was her father. But that didn’t stop her. I think…no, I know she made sure that I saw them. Walked in on them. The two of them. She made sure I saw.” She looked at Bob. “And she did the same thi
ng to you. And to me…again.”
More tears rolled down her face. Her hands squeezed the paper towel. The blood and spilled drink dripped out of it onto her dress.
“I learned to hate her as much as I hated Dusty. I wanted to see her dead. My own daughter. She was part of me, and yet I wanted to wrap my hands around her throat and watch her gasping for breath.”
Stephanie tore the paper towel in two and laid the pieces down, side by side like two paper dolls. But these were red with blood and glistening with the shards of splintered glass. She touched each one tenderly.
“But Ted shouldn’t have done it. He was good. The girls had a chance for a life with him. They were a family. My family. My babies. He should not have taken them away from me.”
She rocked on her heels. The pain lay all around her like a bloody mist. The grief was taking her under again. She closed her eyes and a sob wracked her body.
“I didn’t see the evil in him. He betrayed me, too. He lied. Like Dusty. Like Marilyn. He waited like some monster and then killed them. He stole the only two good things in my life.”
“He d-didn’t.”
Stephanie continued to rock. The tears wouldn’t stop, squeezing through her closed eyelids.
“Ted d-didn’t kill.”
She opened her eyes and saw Bob through a haze of tears.
“I got th-there f-first. House was on f-fire. I d-didn’t go in. Ted c-came af-fter. He pulled in af-after. I saw him go c-crazy…t-trying to g-get in.”
Stephanie’s body was shaking violently when she tried to push herself to her feet. She held on to the counter to steady herself. Bob’s face was wet with tears. He looked a hundred years old.
“I went th-there, because she’d sent th-the pictures in the m-mail…th-that day. But I didn’t k-kill her. I got th-there after…and Ted…t-too…got th-there after.”
“Why?” she breathed in disbelief. “Why didn’t you say any of this sooner? Why not two years ago?”
“I was af-fraid th-they’ll arrest me. I th-thought you d-didn’t know about Maril-lyn and m-me. I was mad…c-crazy m-mad. Enough to k-kill her. I c-could have…”
As she stood up, broken glass stabbed into her feet.
“S-so…s-sorry. Forg-give me. I love you, S-steph.”
She reached for the phone on the counter and handed it to him.
“Show me.”
Chapter 30
“I don’t have any way of getting up to the cabin. My car’s at the garage, and they’re closed today,” Chris complained into the phone. “And besides, you’ve taken my keys away. Remember?”
“Where’s your mother?” Reverend Webster asked shortly at the other end.
“Out at some charity breakfast. And I don’t know when she’s coming back.” The teenager paced back and forth in the kitchen.
“Well, I still want you to get up there. You’re the only one who’s been using the cabin this spring, and I want you there to let them in.”
Chris took the lid off Patricia’s cash cookie jar and took out the three twenty dollar bills, stuffing them deep in his pocket.
“You be ready,” his father continued. “I’ll call Chief Weir and ask him to send one of his patrol cars to pick you up on their way to the lake. If he wants to go through my cabin so badly he’s not waiting for a warrant, I don’t think he’ll balked at giving you a ride out there.”
~~~~
“I’ll be waiting by the phone. Thank you, Sarah, for everything.”
Léa didn’t know how to contain her emotions as she hung up the phone. She turned to Mick and hugged him hard in the middle of the kitchen. “I can’t believe it. God, I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Good news?”
“There is a new development. A witness has voluntarily stepped forward to testify on Ted’s behalf. It’s too early to tell if there is a need for a retrial, but she is pushing to get a hearing right away. Everything is shut down today, but she thinks maybe tomorrow.” Reining in her exultation, she kissed him. “Did you have something to do with this, too?”
“You give me way too much credit.” He laughed. “Who’s the witness?”
“She didn’t know yet, but she said she’ll call as soon as she hears something more.”
Heather appeared in the kitchen door. “Aren’t you two tired of all this hugging and kissing, yet? Christmas, I can’t turn my back on you for a minute. I hope I missed breakfast.”
Before the teenager could reach for her morning can of soda, Léa gave her a bear hug, too.
“Okay. What’s wrong with her?” She asked her father.
When Mick told Heather the news, she hooted loudly and hugged Léa back. Releasing her, the teenager paused and smacked her own forehead with her palm.
“I can’t believe I forgot to give you something, last night.” Heather searched on the countertop. She picked up an envelope. “Before we started working on the house yesterday, I found this inside the front door. It kind of looks like that other one you got.”
A brief moment of anxiety took hold of Léa as she handled the familiar white envelope. Like the last, it was addressed but not stamped. She didn’t even pause and tore it open.
I’m taking care of everything. Now you can go.
She stared at it in confusion.
“What is it?” Mick asked. “Who is it from?”
Before she could answer, Max charged at the front door, barking as he raced through the house. Mick went to see who it was, and a minute later Léa heard Rich Weir’s voice as the two men walked back toward the kitchen. The police chief had been surprisingly civil to her lately, and Léa wondered if it had something to do with Sheila’s influence.
“Sorry I didn’t get over to the house, last night. I got tied up with a few things. Sheila said you had lots of help.”
Léa was stunned that he’d even considered it. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Cup of coffee?” Mick offered
“No thanks. I’m on my way up to the lake. We’re going through some of the cottages.”
“No sign of Dusty yet?”
Rich looked at her and frowned. “I guess you haven’t heard. There was a fire at the mill yesterday afternoon.”
“I heard. One of my guys called me last night to tell me.” Mick filled his own cup. “We lease one of the buildings in the back for storage. All he said was that the fire didn’t come anywhere near the storage area.”
“No. The whole thing was pretty much contained to Dusty’s trailer. He was in it.”
“Dusty is dead?” Léa asked in shock.
“We didn’t get the final ID on the body until this morning. But it was him.”
Léa sat down on a chair. This whole thing was like some self-solving puzzle. She had a hard time believing it.
“We’re still investigating the fire scene. But there was another reason why I stopped by.” He turned to Heather. “I know today is a holiday and all that, but I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind coming up to the lake and showing us where exactly you saw Dusty. We’re trying to hammer out his movements in the investigation of Jason Shanahan’s death, and it would help us a lot to know where you saw him.”
Heather looked at the chief. “Can my dad or Léa drive me out there?”
“Absolutely.”
“When do you want her?” Mick asked.
“The sooner the better. If you can do it this morning, I’d appreciate it.”
“Why don’t you take her out there now?” Léa offered. “I’ll hang by the phone.”
Mick didn’t seem too comfortable with the idea.
“I’ll stay right here by the phone. I promise, Mick.”
“I’ll go get my shoes.” Heather ran to the front of the house, the dog on her heels.
“Miss Hardy,” Rich started as soon as Heather left the kitchen. “You should know that we’ve had some new information with regard to your brother’s case. We’re doing everything possible to pursue the matter, and the Stonybrook Police Department is a hundre
d percent behind you.”
For the second time in minutes, Rich Weir left her speechless.
~~~~
“I don’t know where the kid went, but there was nobody answering the doorbell at the rectory,” Jeff said through the open window of his patrol car.
Robin frowned at the other officer. “Tom said he’d talked to Reverend Webster and arranged it.”
“He wasn’t there. I’m telling you.”
“Well,” she said thoughtfully, looking at the Websters’ cabin. “I say we go in. We’ve got the owner’s permission and a dozen more cabins to check. What are the chances of the place having a lock on the door?”
Her partner nodded and called it in on his radio. In a minute they were crossing the leaf-strewn gravel to the cabin. A steady rain had started to fall.
The front door turned out to be locked, after all, but they circled the building, peering in and trying the windows as they went along. When they reached the back porch, Robin went up and pulled on the sliding glass door. It opened easily.
“What did I tell you?”
They called into the cabin, identifying themselves. Getting no answer, they entered. A quick look around told them that the place was empty.
The cottage was neat and tidy. Everything in its place. The furniture had that comfortable worn look that showed care, in spite of its age. The books on the shelves, a mix of mysteries and biographies, were recently dusted. The beds were covered with spreads but unmade. The refrigerator was on and the shelves were spotless. A police scanner sat unplugged on a clean counter, but there wasn’t a TV in sight. In the sitting room, cushions for the porch furniture were stacked against a wall and covered with a beach towel.
Robin had worked her way to the back door when she saw Jeff on one knee by the kitchen counter.
“What is it?” she asked, crossing the cabin and crouching beside him.
“You tell me.”
She looked at the white wood showing from the deep chip in the pine floor board. It looked like the corner of something had struck the floor, denting it and chipping the wood. She shone her flashlight on it and pointed to a spot about three feet from the mark. Two thin dark lines ran along the grooves between the floor boards for almost a foot and then stopped.