Confessing to the Cowboy

by Carla Cassidy

  She paused, her body and mind remembering the simmering terror of those days and nights. As perverse as it seemed, she’d almost wished for a beating that would relieve the stress of the anxiety of waiting for it to happen.

  She splayed her hands on the top of the table, palms down to assure that the trembling would halt. “The explosion came when Mike was almost two years old.” Her mind filled with the memory of Jason’s face, his dark eyes flat and cold as a snake and his mouth compressed together in a tight line that always portended imminent danger.

  “We were all in the den supposedly enjoying quality family time. Jason had been knocking back drinks while I chased Mike around to keep him entertained. The backhand across my face came out of nowhere and the force of it threw me to the floor. I instantly curled up into a fetal ball as Jason began to kick me over and over again. And with each kick a rage began to form inside me. I knew before morning came, I’d take Mike and leave...if I lived through the beating.”

  Cameron’s hands on the top of the table had curled into fists, as if he wished Jason were here in the room with them and he could mete out a bit of macho justice of his own.

  “He finally stopped kicking me, but he wasn’t finished yet. He walked over to where Mike stood crying and viciously shoved him down. He pulled back his arm with his hand fisted and I knew he intended to punch Mike. That’s when I got the fire poker.”

  Her heart raced inside her chest, threatening to erupt from her skin just as it had on that fateful night. She was grateful that Cameron said nothing to stop the story from spilling out of her.

  She had to finish it. She would be destroyed, but she might save lives. She had to do the right thing and that meant telling Cameron what she’d done so many years ago.

  She unclasped her hands and sat up straighter in her chair, holding Cameron’s gaze intently, expecting that with her next words the softness in his eyes would transform into something much different. She got up from the table, unable to sit as she finished her tale.

  She took several steps away from the table and then turned back to look at Cameron. “He was just about to hit Mike when I slammed him over the head with the poker. It was one thing for him to abuse me, but there was no way I was going to allow him to hurt my child. That first blow sent Jason to the ground on his belly and then something snapped inside me and I hit him again...and again. I couldn’t stop hitting him. I killed him, Cameron. Nine years ago I killed my husband and then I took Mike and we went on the run.”

  Chapter 7

  She trembled from head to toe as he tried to process what he’d just heard. He wasn’t sure at what point he felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut, but he was half-breathless with shock, trying to process what she’d just told him.

  In essence she’d just confessed to a murder. What he didn’t understand was why she thought this information might help him with this particular investigation. If her husband was dead, then he couldn’t be here now killing women. This revelation didn’t do much to move his current case forward, but she’d put herself...and him...in a bad situation.

  “Are you going to arrest me?” She held her hands out as if expecting him to slap on handcuffs immediately.

  “Right now what I’d like for you to do is sit back down. I have some questions for you.”

  She nodded and slid back into her chair. “Before you start asking me questions, I have one for you.” Her blue eyes suddenly swam with tears. “I know it’s a lot to ask and I have no right even to consider it, but if I’m charged with Jason’s murder and I end up going to jail would you take care of Matt? He cares about you so much and you’re the only male constant that has been in his life. I know how good you’d be to him and at least I wouldn’t have to worry about his well-being.”

  Cameron held up a hand to halt her, the request squeezing tight in his chest. “Mary, you’re getting ahead of yourself here.” He leaned back in his chair and swiped a hand through his hair, still trying to digest what he’d just learned.

  “Why do you think what happened nine years ago has anything to do with what’s happening to the waitresses here and now in Grady Gulch?”

  As she told him about the anniversary card she’d received and the stuffed frog that had come for Matt, Cameron’s stomach clenched tighter and tighter.

  “Don’t you see? It has to be somebody from my past...a friend of Jason’s who knows what I did, somebody who hates me and has decided to hunt me down to punish me, to make me pay.”

  “Now? After all these years?” A headache began to pound at Cameron’s temples. “Let’s back up,” he said, needing to know what happened between the moment she’d killed her husband and now. “You beat your husband with the fire poker and then what?”

  She frowned, obviously not wanting to go back to that place and time, but knowing she needed to answer his questions. “I finally dropped the poker and realized what I’d done.”

  Swallowing visibly, she stared at the wall just over his shoulder. “I was in a panic. I knew that if I called the police and tried to explain what had happened, if I told anyone about the years of abuse nobody would believe me. There were no hospital records to back up my claims. No police had ever been called to our house. I also knew that Jason had important friends who would see to it that I got the death penalty. So, I packed up a suitcase with a few things for myself and Mike. Thankfully Jason kept fairly large amounts of cash in his wallet, so I took that and left. I picked Mike up in my arms and took the suitcase and we walked for what felt like miles before I felt safe enough to get on a bus.”

  “To where?” he asked.

  “To anywhere. Just away from there, from the death and the thoughts of what I’d done. We wound up in Arizona and stayed there almost a month in a ratty motel room. Every minute of every day I waited for a knock on the door that would be the police to arrest me. I decided it was time to move on and from there got on another bus that took us to Texas. It was in Dallas that I met some street people who got us fake identifications and that’s when I became Mary Mathis and Mike became Matt Mathis.”

  “And who were you before you were Mary?”

  Her blue eyes went hazy with a hint of pain, as if she didn’t want to remember who she had been before she’d become Mary Mathis...owner of the Cowboy Café. “Samantha Roberts and then I was Samantha McKnight and then for a long time I was nobody. Finally I found my identity, my true self, as Mary Mathis, owner of the Cowboy Café and productive member of the community of Grady Gulch.”

  She placed her hands back on the top of the table and he couldn’t help but notice that they still trembled. “So, what happens now?” she asked. “Are you going to take me to jail?”

  “Do you have intentions of running again?”

  “I’m finished running.” She said it with a certainty that he believed. “I’m tired of looking over my shoulders, waiting for karma or the law to catch up with me. It’s time I face the consequences of my actions.”

  “You can relax, Mary. I’m not arresting you today.” He wanted to do a little research into all this. He needed to find out if a warrant had been issued for her at the time of the incident and what the original investigation had yielded.

  The truth of the matter was, despite his professionalism, he wasn’t in a hurry to put a woman he cared about behind bars. Eventually it might come to that, but not until he had more information. For the moment she had a reprieve.

  He got up from the table, still reeling a bit from what she’d told him. “Go on about your business as usual. I’ll be in touch later and we’ll see if we can sort all this out.” He pulled on his jacket and moved toward the door to exit, but she stopped him by grabbing him by the arm.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” she said, her eyes burning with fervent need.

  He frowned, unsure what she was talking about.

  “Matt. Promise me, Cameron. Please, promise me that if something happens to me, when I have to go away, you’ll take care of him and raise him to be a good
man like you.” Tears splashed on her cheeks and even though he’d just learned that he might have to arrest her, he couldn’t help himself, he pulled her into his arms.

  She melted against him as she had so many times in his dreams, but he’d never dreamed he’d be holding her, smelling the sweet raspberry scent of her hair under these particularly strange circumstances.

  In his dreams she’d always come to him with want, not need. But it was desperate need that emanated from her now, the need to know that whatever the future held for her, her son would be safe and loved.

  “I promise,” he whispered against her ear. “I promise that Matt will be just fine.” He couldn’t promise her anything more than that. He couldn’t tell her that everything would be okay and that her life would continue as it had been.

  Things were different now. There were obviously serious issues that needed to be addressed and at this moment he had no idea what her future might hold.

  He held her tight until she finally lifted her face to look at him once again. Even with her cheeks tear-stained and her blue eyes rimmed with red, she took his breath away with her fragile beauty.

  He had no intention of kissing her, but as he stared down at her and saw the tremble of her full lower lip, without thought he leaned down and covered her mouth with his.

  She hesitated a moment and then returned the kiss, opening her mouth to his. Her arms wound tightly around his neck. It might have been wonderful if he hadn’t tasted such desperation in her kiss. It lasted only a moment and then he reluctantly stepped back from her. He wished he could hold her forever, that somehow he could unhear what she’d just told him about herself, about her past.

  But he couldn’t ignore what she’d said and he couldn’t completely dismiss the idea that somebody from her past was now making her pay for her husband’s death by killing people she cared about. He needed to get to the bottom of the murder she’d confessed to and find out if she was a wanted fugitive.

  With a murmured goodbye, he stepped out of her private quarters and into the bustling café, his head whirling with so many thoughts he felt half-nauseated.

  He spoke to nobody as he grabbed his hat, plopped it on his head and left the restaurant. It was difficult to think of the woman he’d known for the past eight years as a victim of spousal abuse or as a murderer.

  Even if she really had killed her husband, at the time she probably would have been able to make a case for self-defense, but so many years had now gone by and her actions immediately following the crime would make it extremely difficult for her to have any kind of a defense.

  Nine years. She’d carried this with her for over nine long years. If it were all true and if one of Jason McKnight’s friends were responsible for the death of the waitresses, then what had taken him so long?

  When she’d left her home that fateful night, had she covered her tracks that well? What mistake might she have made in the past couple of years or months that had given somebody the information to find her location?

  As far as he knew, in all the advertising he’d seen for the Cowboy Café, there had never been a picture of either Mary or Matt. No strangers had been in town in the years since she’d moved here asking subtle questions about her or her son.

  Or was this all some sort of a coincidence that had nothing to do with the murdered waitresses?

  He hated this.

  He hated the whole thing.

  For the first time since he’d taken his oath as the sheriff of Grady Gulch, he hated his job. He’d wanted to be the man to make a family with Mary and Matt. He definitely hadn’t wanted to be the man to arrest Mary.

  “I don’t want to be disturbed unless somebody is bleeding or has the name of the killer,” he told his secretary, Bev, as he headed for his office.

  Once inside he closed the door, sat at his desk and powered up his computer. It was probably going to take him hours, but somehow, someway, he had to go back in time and find out the truth. He had to find out what had happened to Jason McKnight and whether Mary Mathis was the warm, loving woman he’d always thought she was or a cold-blooded, cunning killer named Samantha McKnight.

  * * *

  Mary didn’t immediately return to the front of the café after Cameron left although she knew the lunch rush would be in full swing. She was too fragile from her confession and all the memories that had flooded through her. She was too much on edge to go out and make nice with all of her diners.

  Instead she sank back down on her sofa and tried to keep her thoughts from drifting back in time again. Unfortunately, it was impossible.

  Memories of her marriage that she’d shoved away for so many years now haunted her, pouring into her brain. She was not only sickened by the violence she’d suffered at Jason’s hands, but also by how easily she’d fallen into the domestic abuse trap.

  She’d been a perfect victim waiting to happen, without family and with only a few fellow waitress acquaintances. She’d been blinded by Jason’s overt charm, and yes, the more-than-comfortable lifestyle he offered to her had been equally appealing at the time. She’d been so alone in the world, working long hours and living in an area that hadn’t been safe.

  He’d won her over not only with roses and jewelry, but also in the way he’d looked at her as if she were the most important person in his universe.

  She’d loved him on the day they’d married and hadn’t realized how insidiously he’d slowly taken away all control she had, how slickly he’d made her feel as if she was nothing without him.

  It wasn’t until Mike’s birth that the violent incidents happened more often. Jason obviously didn’t like to share and he definitely didn’t like vying for his wife’s attention with his new little son.

  Eventually her love for Jason had turned to something deeper than terror, something harder than hatred. He was her captor, her tormentor, and the beautiful mansion where he’d brought her to live had become a prison.

  By the time of their final showdown she’d felt powerless, trapped and unable to escape. She’d almost given up on getting away, finding a better life. She’d almost lost all her hope.

  But the minute she’d realized he intended to inflict pain on her precious baby boy, she’d snapped. Even now when she thought of the violence that had erupted out of her it made her sick to her stomach.

  She’d never felt those kinds of feelings before and knew she would never feel them again in her lifetime...unless somebody threatened Matt. Only for him did a killing instinct rise up primal and strong inside of her.

  She’d already proven she’d do whatever necessary to keep her son from harm and she would go there again if she thought Matt were in danger.

  And now Cameron knew what she was capable of, what kind of a woman she had been. He knew that she’d not only killed a man, but had run away rather than stick around to face the proverbial music.

  But even in those frantic moments of half thoughts when she’d stared down at the man who had been her husband, the man she had killed with a fire poker, she’d known that there was no possibility that she’d ever get a fair trial. She’d known that she’d be tried and convicted and they’d throw away the key forever.

  As she’d grabbed up her sobbing almost two-year-old son and held him close to her chest, she’d truly believed that running had been her only option. She couldn’t fight Jason’s friends, she couldn’t stand up to his power or influence.

  And now it didn’t matter. The decisions she’d made then had now been placed with Cameron. He held her fate in his hands and she expected no succor from him. He would do what he had to do as a lawman despite any personal feelings he might have for her.

  She felt the ticking of a clock...the ticking away of time to the arrest she knew would have to come. Before that happened she had to have a talk with Matt. She had to explain to him what had happened, that the story she’d told him about a father who had died in a car accident wasn’t true.

  It would be the most painful conversation she’d ever had with any
one in her entire life, but Matt needed to hear the truth from her before Cameron acted, before Matt heard some form of the story from a classmate or an unthinking adult. It was an ugly, awful story that should come from her.

  She checked her watch. Matt wouldn’t be home from Jimmy’s until later in the day and if she sat here and thought for too long about everything that had been and everything that was about to come, she’d go completely out of her mind.

  She needed to get back to work and keep her mind busy with pleasing customers while she waited for her fate to catch up with her.

  By the time Matt came home she had changed her mind and decided to wait to talk to her son until she heard from Cameron. She had no idea what the future held, but decided she didn’t want to burden her eleven-year-old son with the baggage of her former life until absolutely necessary.

  At least she had Cameron’s promise that Matt would be okay. Mary might not be around to watch him grow up, but she knew without a doubt that Cameron would see to it that he grew to be the kind of man who would make Mary proud.

  Myriad thoughts—of not seeing Matt grow to a man, of missing him learning to drive, his first girlfriend or his prom, of not seeing him married, not enjoying grandchildren—nearly cast her to her knees with a keening grief.

  “Are you okay?” Lynette asked her at closing time.

  “I’m fine. Why?” Mary looked at the pretty waitress who had been practically dancing through her duties all evening.

  “You just seem kind of withdrawn...quiet,” Lynette replied.

  “And you seem unusually happy,” Mary countered, not wanting to think or talk about her own somber mood and the reasons for it.

  Lynette smiled. “Denver was in earlier to eat. We went out last night and had such a good time together that he’s taking me into Evanston for dinner tomorrow night.” Her smile faltered slightly. “And Maddy came in after he left and spent her whole time eating and shooting me looks to kill.”

  “So, she doesn’t want Denver, but she also doesn’t want anyone else to have him, either,” Mary said.