The Stranger's Sin

by Darlene Gardner

  She sighed. “Then what about a lie to protect the innocent?”

  He gave a quick shake of his head. “I’m not following.”

  Like him, she didn’t touch her food. She was too busy concentrating on a way to sway Chase from his rigid view of the world. She slowly came up with a scenario to illustrate her point. “What if your dad was arrested for murder?”

  “Never happen,” he said quickly. “My dad’s not capable of hurting anyone.”

  “You’re sure of that?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Positive.”

  “Then what if it was a case of mistaken identity? Your dad tells the cops he’s innocent, but they insist they have the right guy.” She kept on, even though the situation was uncomfortably close to her personal catastrophe, hoping to get Chase to see things in a different light. “If you say your dad was with you at the time of the murder, he goes free and nobody knows you lied.”

  “I’d know.”

  She felt her jaw drop. “You’d let your dad go to prison?”

  “I’d tell the truth and then try like hell to dig up proof that he was innocent.”

  Chase had far too much faith in the truth. The facts hadn’t kept Kelly out of jail. “In my world, everything isn’t so clear cut. Sometimes lying is a necessary evil.”

  He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Like when you’re looking for a woman who owes you money?”

  No! she wanted to shout. When you’re running out of leads in a desperate search to locate the only woman who can keep you out of prison.

  How, she wondered, could she make him understand? She’d have to try another approach: The truth.

  “I was on my sixth elementary school by the time I was twelve years old,” she blurted. “I lost count of how many times I was the new kid. It wasn’t easy to fit in, especially if the other kids found out I was a foster child.”

  She seldom revealed the way she’d grown up to anybody, even now. She hesitated, not ready to share the whole story of how her mother’s arrest for murder and subsequent sentence to life without parole had landed her in the foster-care system as a frightened eight year old. But she wanted to tell him at least part of it.

  “Sometimes I said my mother was a doctor and my father was a lawyer. Other times they were both architects who designed fabulous buildings. Once I said they were independently wealthy so they both just stayed home and took care of me.”

  He said nothing, but uncrossed his arms from his chest and leaned slightly forward, regarding her with interest rather than his previous apprehension.

  “Eventually somebody always found out I was lying but by then I was already leaving, off to another foster family, another school,” she said.

  More and more people were stopping for lunch, filling the tables around them, their chatter growing louder and louder. Kelly barely noticed any of the commotion, so focused was she on her past.

  “Did you move around from family to family your entire childhood?” he asked.

  “Oh, no.” She shook her head for emphasis. “I landed with Mama Rosa when I was thirteen and that’s where I stayed, thank God.”

  “Mama Rosa?” Chase prodded.

  “My foster mother. She was at least six feet tall, with deep lines on her face and this loud, gruff voice.” Kelly’s mind rewound to the first time she’d gazed up at the big, tough woman. “She told me right off the bat we’d be fine as long as I was straight with her. She scared me half to death, to tell you the truth.”

  “Did you lie to her, too?”

  “At first, mostly so she wouldn’t find out I didn’t measure up.” She’d lied about whether she’d finished her homework, the grades she’d made on her tests, if she’d done her chores. “Then one day, a couple of us were horsing around in the house. Mama Rosa had this beautiful heirloom lamp. I tripped and knocked it over. It broke into a hundred pieces.”

  She pressed her lips together, remembering how much her foster mother had loved the lamp and how afraid Kelly had been for her to discover who’d broken it.

  “She asked who did it. I said it wasn’t me. She got quiet, then this big tear dripped down her cheek. I’d never seen her cry before. I couldn’t stand how much it hurt for her to lose the lamp, so I confessed.” She blew out a breath. “It turned out she wasn’t crying because of the broken lamp. She was crying because I’d lied to her. Again.”

  A man walking by their table bumped Chase’s chair and apologized. He barely seemed to notice.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “Nothing. She was true to her word. I’d told the truth, so I didn’t get grounded.” She stared down at her hands. “I never lied to her again.”

  She stopped short of telling him she hadn’t entirely given up the behavior. Oh, she’d never cheat on her income tax or tell a lie that would hurt anybody, but she usually claimed her mother was dead. Neither was she above telling the occasional white lie. More than once, she’d claimed to have a boyfriend when someone asked her out.

  “Your foster mother sounds like a remarkable woman.”

  “She was. After I moved in with her, she got licensed for short-term emergency care. Most of the time, there were five or six other kids living with us. It was like a revolving door.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “She died of a brain aneurysm when I was a freshman in college.” Pain lanced through her even though Mama Rosa had been dead going on six years. “One day she was fine, and the next she was gone.”

  He reached across the table and covered her hand with his, understanding glowing in the depths of his eyes. She realized she’d also described what happened to his mother.

  “It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to,” she told him. “She’d want me to be happy she lived instead of sad that she’s no longer here. She taught me so much I feel a part of her lives on in me.”

  “She taught you it’s wrong to lie,” he stated.

  “Yeah. She wouldn’t have approved of what I told Helene Heffinger today.” She voiced her conclusion aloud. “Which means you were right. I shouldn’t have lied to her.”

  “We all do things we shouldn’t,” he said. “But not everybody admits it when they make a mistake.”

  Chase would own up to his miscues. He was a stand-up guy, a do-the-right-thing kind of guy. He wasn’t the sort of guy who deserved to be lied to.

  The cell phone clipped to Chase’s belt rang, interrupting them. She listened to his end of the conversation, figuring there was some problem with Teresa.

  “Just do what you need to do and don’t worry about it,” he said in a calm, sure voice. “I’ll manage.”

  Chase finished the call, then swore under his breath.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  “Not really. Teresa’s daughter called from the emergency room in Philly. Her three year old fell and hit her head. Her husband’s out of town so she left the two year old with a neighbor. She asked if Teresa could come right away.”

  “What about Toby?”

  “That’s why Teresa called. Her neighbor will watch him until we get back to town, but then I need to find a babysitter for the rest of the day.”

  “I’ll do it,” Kelly offered instantly.

  “Are you sure?” he said. “It’s going to be crazy tonight because of the holiday. I’ll probably help the police patrol for DUIs after the sun goes down so it could be a late night.”

  “Then I’ll stay the night at your place,” she said. “You’d be doing me a favor, too. The B and B is booked for the weekend so it would save me finding another hotel.”

  “I wasn’t sure you were staying in town.”

  She couldn’t go back to Wenona. Not yet. Not when she wasn’t much closer to locating Mandy than she had been when she left. “For the time being.”

  “How much did Mandy steal from you anyway?” he asked, his expression curious.

  My good name and possibly my freedom, Kelly thought.

  “A good deal,” she said, skirting an untru
th. “Let me do this, Chase. I’d like to help you.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Thanks. This is perfect. You can sleep in Mandy’s room.”

  “Mandy’s room?” Kelly parroted, tact forgotten.

  “That’s right,” he said. “She had her own room.”

  Kelly longed to know why they hadn’t shared a room, but it wasn’t any of her business. She should be thanking him instead of questioning him, especially because she might find a clue as to where Mandy had gone in the house. “That’d be great.”

  “Then it’s settled.” He smiled at her, obviously not having taken offense at her question. Her stomach lurched.

  She’d told him the story about growing up in foster care to explain why she sometimes felt it necessary to lie, but then they’d gotten on the tangent of Mama Rosa. It seemed she’d inadvertently convinced him she was inherently trustworthy.

  She meant to try her best to be truthful from here on out, but she couldn’t take back the lies she’d already told. Not until they found Mandy.

  She felt a stab in the region of her heart, but it was neither a heart attack or heartburn. It was despair.

  Because, considering the sort of man he was, by then he’d probably never forgive her.

  WHAT A DIFFERENCE THIRTY-SIX hours made, Chase thought as he quietly made his way through the downstairs of the dark house Friday night.

  When he’d returned from the hospital in the wee hours of Thursday morning, he’d been anxious about his decision to leave Toby with a woman he’d just met. Earlier today, after Kelly had flip-flopped her story about why she was searching for Mandy and then lied to Helene Heffinger, he’d questioned Kelly’s credibility.

  But tonight, even though there was still much he didn’t know about Kelly, he experienced no such qualms.

  It could be because of the love and respect in her voice when she’d shared the tale about her principled foster mother. Or because of how great she was with Toby.

  He wasn’t exactly sure why, but the wall of suspicion he’d been erecting had come crumbling down.

  It had been silly but tonight, as he’d patrolled the waters and then the highways, he’d thought about going home.

  To Kelly.

  “Fool,” he called himself.

  She was passing through Indigo Springs and would soon be gone. Even if they had the sort of relationship where she’d be eagerly waiting for him to come home, it was just after midnight. She wouldn’t be waiting now.

  He flipped on the light switch, blinked, then blinked again. There at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a glass of milk, was Kelly.

  “Hey,” he said. “I didn’t see you there.”

  She grimaced. “You weren’t supposed to. That’s why I didn’t turn on the light.”

  He advanced a step. She was dressed for bed in an oversized T-shirt that he found oddly provocative, and her hair was charmingly disheveled. “Why exactly are you sitting in the dark?”

  She sighed, then held up…an Oreo?

  “I raided your cabinet. When I can’t sleep, milk and cookies are the only thing that work for me.”

  He grinned. “That’s your deep, dark secret?”

  “Don’t laugh. It’s a bad habit. Everybody knows whatever you eat before bed goes straight to your hips.”

  He imagined her hips swaying gently as she walked. “Then keep eating those Oreos because your hips are perfect.”

  Her eyes met his and she blushed before looking away quickly. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had gotten flustered when he’d delivered a compliment and found it oddly sweet. It caused her to seem younger than her years and lent her an innocence that made his previous suspicions seem crazy.

  He wondered how she’d react if he remarked on how much he liked her T-shirt but decided instead to try to put her at ease. “You might try warming up the milk and adding honey next time. It tastes awful, but it helps with insomnia.”

  She exhaled, her body visibly relaxing. She probably didn’t know that the material of the T-shirt clung to her, outlining breasts that were high, firm and just the right size.

  “I thought people with babies were so exhausted they fell asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow,” she said.

  “I’m lucky. Toby usually sleeps through the night so I’m as prone to insomnia as the next guy.” He took the chair next to her and stole her last Oreo. “Why can’t you sleep? It wasn’t Toby, was it?”

  “Oh, no. He was an angel. He went to sleep hours ago.” She held up the receiving end of Toby’s baby monitor. He could hear Toby’s deep, even breaths. “Since then, he’s been sleeping like, well, a baby.”

  She laughed, the sound low and pleasant, then asked, “Did you hear from Teresa?”

  “Yeah. Her granddaughter’s fine. She didn’t even have a concussion.”

  “That’s good. How about you? How are you doing? Was it a tough night?”

  “Tough enough,” he said. “People use the holidays as an excuse to drink too much. I hauled a couple of boaters into jail this afternoon, then had another DUI arrest tonight.”

  “I’m glad you got ’em,” she said.

  “Now are you gonna tell me why you can’t sleep?” He popped the entire Oreo into his mouth. She was right—the cookies weren’t nearly as good without milk. She pushed her glass toward him, wordlessly offering exactly what he wanted.

  “Thanks.” He guzzled some milk, finding as he swallowed that he didn’t need words to know what was on her mind, either. “It’s because of Mandy, isn’t it?”

  “It’s hard not to think about her when I’m sleeping in her room. That reminds me. I found this wadded up between the nightstand and the bed.” She unfolded a small T-shirt and held it up. It was pink with the image of a turtle standing on its hind legs, its front legs outstretched, its mouth open in glee. “Was it Mandy’s?”

  “I don’t recognize it, but probably,” he said. “Why?”

  “I guess I figured it might be a clue, but I’m grasping at straws.” She fingered the neck of the T-shirt. “It doesn’t even have a tag.”

  She looked down at the table, then up at him, her eyes troubled. “Would you mind if I asked you a question?”

  “Depends on the question,” he said, although at the moment he’d probably tell her anything.

  “Did you know what kind of person she was?”

  “You mean, did I know she was capable of stealing?” He thought of Mandy assuring him she was on the Pill, telling him she was pregnant with his baby, insisting she’d had a miscarriage. “I think Mandy is capable of a great many things.”

  “Then why were you with her?”

  There were two lights in the kitchen, but he’d only turned on the one beside the stove. Kelly was mostly in shadows, the fact that he couldn’t see her face clearly making it easier to answer. “Because she told me she was pregnant.”

  She shook her head. “No. I meant before that. Why were you two together at all?”

  “It was only for one night.”

  “Oh,” she said, as though she understood.

  He frowned. By telling her the truth, he’d misled her. “I’m not in the habit of having one-night stands. I like to get to know a woman before I jump into bed with her.”

  “Then why…” Her voice trailed off. “Never mind, it’s none of my business.”

  She was right. The reason he’d slept with Mandy mere hours after meeting her was intensely personal, something he never intended to share with another person, but he could tell her at least part of it.

  “She was fun and funny and being with her took my mind off my problems.” He kneaded his forehead. “Hell, that sounded like an excuse. I didn’t mean it to be.”

  “So when she got pregnant, you decided to marry her?”

  “Who told you that?” he asked, although he could guess the answer.

  “Your father.”

  He was glad he hadn’t told his father about Mandy faking the miscarriage. “Like I’ve said before, my fat
her talks too much. But, yeah, I would have married her. Bizarre when you realize how little I know about her.”

  “Is that why you haven’t been able to find her?”

  “That’s right. I mean, I’m in law enforcement. You’d think I could track down the woman I used to live with, but she didn’t leave a trail I can find.”

  “Your father said she wasn’t a good mother.”

  “What else did he say?”

  “That she didn’t try to make friends and that she wasn’t your type.” She wrinkled her nose. “At least I think he said she wasn’t your type, but that could be my conclusion.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He raised his eyebrows. “Suppose you tell me what my type is.”

  “Let me think about that.” A corner of her mouth quirked. It was a very pretty mouth, the lower lip slightly more lush than the upper one. “Well, she’d obviously have to love children because of Toby.”

  “Obviously,” he agreed.

  “She’d have to share your values. Truth. Justice. The American way.” She was teasing him, her eyes sparkling. “I see you with a nester. You’d never be happy with a flighty party girl.”

  “Right again. Anything else?”

  “It wouldn’t hurt if she thought your dad was funny.”

  They smiled at each other, the darkened house and the late hour causing the shared joke to seem intimate, but her assessment wasn’t far off the mark. Chase wasn’t in the market for a relationship after the mess he’d gotten into with Mandy, but if he were it would be easier if the woman got along with his father. And shared his values. And loved children.

  And turned him on even when she wasn’t trying, just by sitting in the dark, wearing a T-shirt, with a plate of Oreos and a glass of milk.

  “You know who you just described, don’t you?” he asked in a low voice.

  She shook her head.

  “You.”

  “I didn’t,” she denied.

  She polished off the rest of her milk and stood. The T-shirt fell to the middle of her thighs, leaving her legs bare. He could see the silhouette of her figure through the thin material. His mouth went dry.

  Her brow knitted and he imagined she was replaying what she’d said. “Okay, maybe I did describe myself. Then I must’ve been wrong about your type.”