by Sharon Sala
Then Fiona came running in unannounced with a look of horror on her face, and Nita froze.
“I’ll have to call you back,” she said quickly, and disconnected. “Fee, what the hell is going on?”
“They’re talking indictments. They’re saying we all share the guilt because we’re sharing the profits. They said money is missing, and they’re talking fraud and embezzlement and even issues with the FDIC because of a lending company we own.”
“Who’s ‘they’?” Nita cried.
“It’s all over the news,” Fiona said, ignoring the question, and sank into a chair and started to weep. “We’re ruined. We’ll never recover from this.”
Nita glanced out the window, absently noting a contrail in the sky as a chill rolled through her. She stood, the tears so close to falling that she couldn’t see, and then turned to face her sister. “She did it.”
Fiona blew her nose and then reached for another tissue. “Who did what?” she muttered.
“Leigh. She told us what she’d do if anyone else messed with her family, and what Justin did lit her fuse.”
“But we’re her family, too,” Fiona said.
Nita laughed, and it was not a pretty sound.
“Like hell. We wrote her off nearly thirty years ago. We forgot she even existed, and then Justin killed her man and tried to kill one of her sons, and now she’s schooled us on what it means to keep your word.”
“What are we going to do?” Fiona asked.
“Make sure our trust funds are intact. Call our law firm to make sure you and I don’t wind up included in any of these charges, and find out if we’re ever allowed to leave the country.”
Fiona’s eyes were awash with tears, and when she nodded in agreement, they spilled over.
“I’m sorry I’ve been mean. Will you take me with you when you go?”
Nita sighed and, in a rare moment of emotion, hugged her sister.
“Of course, Fee. We have to stick together in this mess.”
* * *
Andrew Bingham had gone straight to Charleston. The state capitol of West Virginia had its own kind of elegance, which he preferred. He had taken up temporary residence in one of the finer old hotels and spent the last few days resting, working out and going through the video files he’d recovered from the lake house.
It was a somewhat boring task for him, because everything he did was routine and precise, calculated for a client’s greatest satisfaction, but as he watched, he realized there were a few things he should probably switch up. Being repetitive was the kiss of death to someone with his job skills, so he took time to watch all the recordings, deciding which ones he would keep. Those he cataloged and stored, while the others he set aside to be erased. He had to take stock of how much money he’d banked during his stint in Eden, then tie up loose ends before he moved on, preferably out of the country for a while. It would be great if the next job he landed was in Paris, but that wasn’t going to happen unless he made himself available there.
He’d finished most of his lunch from room service and was down to the last five recorded sessions when he happened to look up and catch sight of Nita Wayne’s face on TV. To say he was startled would have been putting it mildly. He upped the volume to hear what was going on and, as the story unfolded, began to realize how fortunate he’d been in leaving Eden before this broke.
He watched the piece all the way through, then turned off the TV and got up to refill his wineglass. Now that he knew what was happening with the Waynes, he was even more eager to get out of the country.
He grabbed a piece of Godiva chocolate from a dish beside the wine decanter, then settled in to view the remaining discs.
The next one he saw was of no importance, so he set it aside to erase and popped in the next. He noted the date and time as he hit Play, expecting to watch yet another episode of sexual antics that went along with the role-playing Charles liked.
To his surprise, the image that popped up was neither Charles nor himself, but another member of the family. He was thinking how easily he and Charles could have been compromised even earlier, and was glad it had been Nita who found them.
But then it dawned on him that the man on screen wasn’t exhibiting his usual emotional control. Andrew watched him run across the room to the gun cabinet, take out a rifle, check to see if it was loaded, then run out of view, the skin crawled on the back of his neck.
The video timed out after no further movement. As Andrew made a note of the date and time, it dawned on him that this was the day of the murder.
“Oh my God! It was you,” he mumbled.
Then he quickly made note of the date and time when the next recording on the disc was made, noting that it occurred about forty-five minutes after the first. He wasn’t surprised when he saw it was the same man with the same rifle, this time racing frantically from one place to another, gathering objects, before he sat down and began to break down the rifle.
When the man began to clean the gun, Andrew realized he was cleaning the murder weapon.
“You sorry-ass bastard,” Andrew said.
His heart was pounding as he watched the man clean every aspect of the rifle, put it back together, wipe it completely of prints, then return it to the gun case in plain view of the camera.
“Despite all your indignation, you actually did it.”
The moment he knew what he had, he never had the impulse not to turn it over to the police. However, he sat for a moment thinking about what he needed to do first. He decided to burn a copy of the disc for safekeeping before slipping the original into a protective sleeve. He wrote the words Lake House, the date and time of the recording, and the word KILLER in caps, and put it in his suitcase, separate from all the others.
The bummer was that he was going to have to take a trip back to Eden. He didn’t want to go, but considering the news report he’d just seen, this was too volatile and too important to trust to the US mail.
He called the front desk and asked them to prepare his bill, then began packing. If he didn’t hit a lot of traffic, he would be back in Eden before dark.
* * *
A calm settled over Leigh once she knew the story was finally out. She heard Bowie on the phone discussing the news with his brothers, and while she had no regrets, she was surprised to find she felt no sense of satisfaction, either. Stanton was still gone, and no amount of legal retribution would change that.
When Constable Riordan called her later to tell her Stanton’s body was finally being released to the family and that he was also releasing the pickup Bowie had been driving, it felt like the past days of tragedy were finally coming to an end.
“I thank you for the courtesy of your call. I’ll have a wrecker pick up the truck and bring it into Eden for repair, and I’ll notify the funeral home. Do I have to sign anything before they can pick him up?” she asked.
“Which one do you intend to use?” Riordan asked.
She told him.
“I’ll make a note. They know what to do.”
“Thank you,” Leigh said.
She heard him disconnect and then laid the phone on the table. The walls of this house were closing in. She could see thousands of lonely hours ahead of her, and in a moment of panic she turned and rushed outside to the back porch.
Hit by the sunlight and the scent of pine, her panic subsided almost instantly. With a slow, shaky breath, she sat down in the porch swing and pushed off with her toes, remembering the day she and Stanton had hung this swing and all the time they’d spent in it over the years, making plans for the next day’s work.
She heard a soft cluck, cluck, and made herself focus on the present and what was in front of her, rather than what might be still to come.
The chickens were out of the coop, meandering about the backyard, searching the grass for b
ugs and seeds, and registering their disapproval with a squawk if another chicken got too close.
The faint breeze coming down the mountain cooled the beads of sweat on her forehead. She looked up at the infinite sky peppered with small white clouds and swallowed past the knot in her throat.
“So now I have to bury you. I hope you’ve mentioned to God, Whose infinite wisdom has often confounded me, that I completely disagree with you having to die.”
A hen squawked loud and long.
“My sentiments exactly,” she muttered, and pushed off in the swing again, giving way to the tears.
Eighteen
Talia’s first night at the Youngblood home was hectic and noisy, but after so many years of enforced solitude she was savoring every moment.
Baby Johnny still had tiny stitches in his lip and was soaking up every ounce of attention he was given with giggles and squeals.
“He’s a handful,” Bowie said, laughing at Johnny’s latest antic.
“He’s adorable,” Talia said.
“Until you’re the one chasing him down,” Leslie countered.
“When they’re your own, somehow the trouble doesn’t seem as big,” Leigh added.
Talia laughed with Leslie, but the sadness in Leigh’s voice was impossible to miss. Jesse was down on all fours, and the baby was crawling under him. Bella and Maura were in the kitchen, quietly finishing up the supper dishes, doing what Leigh couldn’t focus enough to do. Talia grieved Stanton’s loss along with them, but she grieved more for Leigh, because she knew what it felt like to lose the only man you would ever love. She viewed the fact that she’d been given a second chance with Bowie as nothing short of a miracle.
Leigh seemed to be participating in all the post-dinner socializing, but in reality Talia knew she’d checked out. More than once she noticed Leigh’s focus shift to a picture on the wall or the floor at her feet, and her behavior didn’t change until Aidan brought up the story about Wayne Industries being under investigation, which sparked a whole new conversation.
“Yes, how the mighty have fallen,” Bella said, coming in from the kitchen. “The charges against them seem overwhelming. How do you get out from under any of that without going to prison?”
“What I can’t figure out is how some journalist in Chicago latched on to the story,” Samuel said.
“I told him,” Leigh said.
A shocked silence followed, then everyone began talking at once.
“How did you know to call him?” Bowie asked.
“He’s one of our brokerage clients...and he liked Stanton,” Leigh answered.
“Oh, wow, Mama, that’s amazing,” Michael said.
Leigh’s expression darkened.
“What’s amazing to me is that my brothers and sisters didn’t take me seriously from the first.”
The anger in her voice was unmistakable. Another moment of silence followed, and then Leigh took a deep breath and turned her hands palms up, as if physically handing her children more information.
“So, there’s more stuff you need to know,” she said. “Constable Riordan has released your daddy’s body. He’s already at the funeral home. I’ll take clothes down tomorrow for them to dress him, but we will not be having an open casket funeral. It’s been too many days. We will have a family viewing only, and then the casket will be closed. Riordan also released Stanton’s truck. I sent a tow truck to take it back to Eden for repair.”
“When are we having the services?” Bowie asked.
“This coming Friday at 10:00 a.m.,” Leigh said. “I’ve already talked to our preacher. Services will be at our church on the mountain, but I’m burying him in the family cemetery here on the property. The Pharaoh twins will be here sometime in the next day or so to dig the grave.”
“And the family dinner afterward?” Leslie asked.
“I think I want it here,” Leigh said. “We can put the tables outside and set the food out all over the kitchen. People will come and go. It will be fine.”
“You could have it at the church and skip all the mess,” Samuel said.
“I know, but considering the fact that I’m going to bury my husband on this land that morning, I don’t want to go off and leave him alone. At least not so soon.”
The image of a new grave in the old cemetery hit all of them hard, and the silence that ensued was uneasy, except for Talia. She knew exactly what Leigh meant.
Talia had gone off and left her daddy at rest beside her mother only to come close to joining them hours later, and there was something she hadn’t told Bowie and probably never would. All during her drug-filled days and nights of sleep, her daddy had been with her in her dreams. A part of her attributed that to his recent passing, but there was also a part of her that wanted to believe his spirit had stayed behind with her, just like she’d stayed behind with him.
“Then we’ll have it here,” Bowie said. “Don’t worry about the logistics, Mama. We’ll make it happen.”
Leigh nodded without speaking, settling instead for looking at the beloved faces of the family she and Stanton had made.
We did good, she thought, and when Johnny toddled toward her begging to be picked up, she pulled him into her lap, buried her face in his soft baby curls and held him close.
Bowie kept a close eye on his mother, and one on his woman, as well. When he saw her put a hand on her ribs and wince, he knew she was hurting.
“Where are your pain pills?” he whispered.
“On the bedside table, and thank you.”
“Be right back,” he said, and kissed the side of her cheek.
Talia watched the sway of that long black braid against his back as he strode out of the room and wished they were in a bed somewhere making love.
He came back with a glass of iced tea and the pills, then sat back down before he handed them to her.
“Here you go, baby,” he said. “And whenever this all gets to be too much, just say the word and I’ll take you back to bed.”
She swallowed the pills with a sip of tea, and then handed him the glass. He took a drink, then set it aside and pulled her close.
It wasn’t long before Bowie noticed she was nodding. The pain pills were working. While everyone else was still talking, he picked her up and carried her out of the room.
As broken as Leigh felt about her life, there were no words for how happy she was for them. His absence from their family and the solitude of his single life had bothered her, but no longer.
When he came back, he stopped beside Leigh’s chair and laid a hand on her shoulder.
Both the span of his hand and the gentleness in his touch reminded her of Stanton. She looked up.
“Can I get you anything, Mama?” Bowie said.
“No, but thank you for asking.”
He picked up the tea glass and carried it back into the kitchen. The dishwasher was already running, so he rinsed it and set it aside. After a quick glance into the living room, he slipped out onto the back porch. Like Talia, he was weary of the day.
The drama that had ensued here after they’d seen the report had been its own storm. He’d seen shock, then resolution, on his mother’s face as they’d watched that first news report together. Only now, after learning about her part in it, did he fully understand what had led to those emotions.
He walked off the porch and out into the yard, then looked up. The sky was black, the stars brilliant points of light so very far away. Rationally he knew what he was looking at was little more than an echo of what had been, that the brilliance he was seeing was no longer a living fire, but tonight he accepted the heavenly light in simpler terms.
He remembered another night like this when he and his brothers were all little. They’d begged and begged to sleep out under the stars, until finally their mother relented. T
hen they spent hours making their camp, carrying quilts and pillows, dragging food, flashlights and finally a weapon apiece to fight off wild animals. He’d chosen a baseball bat, and then Jesse had cried because he didn’t have a weapon. Their mother had soothed the tears and given her baby the pick of anything from her drawer of spoons and spatulas. He’d chosen a little spatula she often used to fry eggs and come out ready for battle. They’d played until dark, eaten all their food, made countless trips back in the house to tell Mama and Daddy good-night and then, when all was said and done, had been too afraid to stay outside to sleep.
Looking back, he was certain his parents had been keeping a close eye on all five of them, because when Jesse and Aidan ran inside crying that a bear was going to eat them, their dad had been ready with his own sleeping bag and a gun.
He’d taken the two little ones back outside, moved all five bedrolls into a circle so that their heads would be touching in the middle, and tucked them all in. Then he’d unrolled his own sleeping bag, positioning it so that the boys were between him and the house. They slept then, confident that nothing could hurt them with Daddy on guard.
By daybreak they were up and running wild, filled with the elation of having slept the whole night outside. He remembered the fried ham and biscuits their mama made for breakfast that morning, giving them one last camp meal to end their adventure. They ate sitting in a circle, listening to Daddy spinning tales about the wild animals he’d fought off while they slept.
His heart hurt. He was struggling to find a new level in the family without his father’s presence, and he knew his mother’s pain was so much worse.
And yet, in all that loss and pain, knowing Talia was sleeping in his bed felt like a gift from God. He kept remembering something his Grandma Youngblood used to say about the Lord giving and the Lord taking away. It was the Universal search for balance, always in motion as it attempted to reach equilibrium.
The back door opened. He turned toward the house and saw all his brothers coming toward him.