The last few months of her mother’s life had been a nightmare. She was in and out of hospitals, in so much pain. Death came finally, an act of mercy from God. Then when the life insurance came, William showed his true colors. She narrowed her eyes. I hope he burns forever for what he did.
A loud knock on the front door startled her. She padded across the hard wood floor in her stocking feet. Two police officers stood on the stoop.
One of them shifted his weight and cleared his throat. “Samantha Armstead?”
Fear struck through her, and she clutched the door frame. “Yes?”
“We need you to come with us down to the station. Detective Reed would like to have a few words with you.”
She forced her face to stay blank. “What is this about?”
“He has some questions about your relationship with William Grant.” The officers peered at her, stone-faced.
“All right.” She slipped on her shoes and coat, grabbed her purse, and headed out the door. She glanced down the street, hoping the neighbors wouldn’t see her getting into the police car. Luckily, it looked like Ruth Anne was not home. Nothing happened on the block without her knowing it.
The ride to the station gave her enough time to feel sick to her stomach. When she got out of the squad car, a few people on the sidewalk turned to look at her. Her cheeks burned, even with the sting of cold air hitting them.
The interrogation room was small, making her feel claustrophobic. She wiped her palms on her jeans, hoping that Detective Reed didn’t notice.
“I just have a few questions for you.” Detective Reed adjusted his glasses and peered down at the file in front of him. “You told the police that William had loaned you ten thousand dollars, and you were repaying him.”
Her sweater felt tight on her neck. She tugged at it while staring at the table. “Yes, that’s right.”
“What did you need the money for?”
She felt his eyes bore into her. “My mother was very ill. I needed to pay some medical bills or we would have lost the house.”
He rummaged through his papers, pulling out two and setting them in front of her. “If William gave you ten thousand dollars, then why were you skimming profits from Grant Automotive where you worked at the time?”
She stared at the papers, her pulse quickening. They had proof. A trickle of sweat ran down her back.
Detective Reed didn’t wait for her to answer. He placed another piece of paper on the table. “And why does this show that William repaid the two thousand dollars you embezzled?”
A lump formed in her throat. Guilt overwhelmed her, and she blinked back tears.
Detective Reed stood up, and paced around the table. “You know what I think, Samantha? I think William caught you stealing from his father’s car lot. Instead of reporting it, he helped you cover it up. Then at some point, maybe after you broke up with him, he decided to blackmail you. After years of this, you finally had enough. You went to his house, and when he wouldn’t agree to stop, you lost your temper.” He stopped, and put his hands on the table in front of her, peering into her face. He lowered his voice and said, “It’s time to tell the truth, Samantha.”
She opened her mouth, but no words would come out.
“Did William blackmail you, Samantha?” His eyes were sympathetic.
There was no use in lying anymore. They could prove it. She would go to jail for what she did. She whispered, “Yes.” As soon as the word left her mouth, a great relief fell over her. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She had been carrying this around for a long time.
The detective sat back down. He continued in a soft voice. “And you were at William’s house the day he died, not once but twice, am I right?” He peered at her over his glasses.
“Yes.” Inevitably, the whole story would soon come out. She closed her eyes, wondering what everyone would think of her when they found out what she did.
******
“What?” Emily’s grip on the phone tightened.
Michael’s voice came through the earpiece. “Samantha Armstead has been arrested for suspicion of murder. She’s confessed to being at your house the afternoon William died. She’s also being arrested for embezzlement. Apparently William knew about the embezzlement and that’s why he was blackmailing her.”
Her hands began to shake. “Does that mean they’re dropping the charges against me?”
Michael cleared his throat. “They have not been dropped yet, but it’s more of a possibility now than ever.”
Exhaling, she pressed her hand to her forehead. “That’s such good news. Thank you, Michael.”
Vincent came up behind her as she was hanging up the phone. “Was that your attorney?”
“Yes. They’ve arrested Samantha, and he thinks they might drop the charges against me.”
“That’s fantastic.” He pulled her into his arms. “I’m so happy for you, Emily.”
The door bell rang. Emily jumped back. “That’s probably Steven.” She brushed past Vincent to answer the door.
Steven leaned against the door frame, his posture relaxed, but his face pinched and worried. Her heart jumped when his eyes met hers. “Emily, I’m so glad you’re all right. Has Richard been caught?”
She stepped back so he could enter. “No. But I did get some good news from Michael. Samantha has been arrested for William’s murder, and Michael thinks they will drop the charges against me.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Really? Can they prove it was Samantha?” They sat down on the leather couch.
Emily twisted her hands together. “No, I don’t think so, but Samantha has confessed to being at the house, so they can place her there at the scene. There’s also her footprint, and they found out she had embezzled money, and that’s what William was blackmailing her for.”
Surprise registered on his face for a brief second. He smiled and put his hand on her knee. The warmth of his touch spread through her. “That’s very good news. I will feel a lot better with Richard behind bars, though.”
Vincent wandered into the room. “So will I.”
Steven stood up and extended his hand. “Vincent, thanks for taking care of Emily while I was out of town.”
Vincent seemed a bit uncomfortable shaking Steven’s hand. “Not a problem.”
Steven sat back down, and put his arm on the back of the couch. His fingertips brushed against her shoulder sending shivers of energy through her.
He glanced in her direction. “It will be nice if they can drop the charges before Christmas. You and Connor deserve a good holiday.”
Christmas. She had forgotten all about it. She hadn’t had a nice Christmas in years. She looked down at the carpet. “I wish I could spend Christmas with Rose.”
“That’s a great idea. Rose would be thrilled if you spent the holidays with her and Frank.” He put his hand on her knee again for a moment, then shifted uncomfortably and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked like he wanted to say something else to her, but he turned toward Vincent instead. “So, do you have family around here, Vincent?”
“No, it’s just me. But Edna always invites me to her house for the holidays. It’s become tradition since my mother passed away.”
Emily startled. “I didn’t know your mother passed away. I’m so sorry, Vincent. When did this happen?”
He put his hands deep into his pockets. “Four years ago. She had a genetic heart defect. It was a miracle she lived as long as she did.”
Emily’s mouth dropped. “I had no idea. She always seemed so healthy. Have you been tested for the defect?”
Vincent shrugged. “No need to. I was adopted.”
Chapter Thirty Two
Richard crossed the Iowa state border as the sun slipped behind the snow-laden trees. He took a long drag on his cigarette and mashed it into the ashtray. Tracing the steering wheel with his fingers, he took in his surroundings. This car was nice. Nicer than any car he’d had in years. He flipped open the glove compartment and rummag
ed through it. The only music he found was an old Johnny Cash CD. He rolled his eyes and shut the door. Stealing this car had been a breeze.
When they find my black car outside of Stapleton they will assume I’m on the run. After they find this one in Des Moines, it will confirm their suspicions. Once Emily thinks I’m gone, I can go back to Stapleton to get her.
******
Emily added the last of the chopped celery to the pot. Steven stood at the sink, peeling carrots, rinsing them, and stacking them on a plastic cutting board. He wore a dark green turtleneck and khaki pants, a look that suited him.
She peered at the stack of carrots, sizing them up. “That’ll be enough, I think.”
Steven rinsed the peeler and set it on the counter. “Do you want me to put the rolls in the oven?”
Emily grinned and batted her eyes. “I think I’m in love.” The second the words were out she wished she could take them back. Her cheeks warmed, and she felt her heart pound against her ribs. What am I doing? Flirting with him? Geesh, I’m an idiot.
Steven stared at her, a slight grin on his face, as he dried his hands on the towel. “I think I am too.”
Her heart stopped. Surely he was joking. She let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, right. I’m perfect for you.” She thought about the times that she and Connor had waited in the car while Richard pawned his stolen merchandise. Wouldn’t the media love that one? She rolled her eyes.
From the look on Steven’s face he had not expected that reaction from her. He frowned, picked up the baking sheet covered in dinner rolls, and slid them into the oven.
After several minutes of awkward silence, Vincent popped his head around the corner. “Connor and I are going upstairs. I think I still have an old train set of mine in a box up in the attic.”
Feeling a bit desperate at being left alone with Steven, but not knowing what else to do about it, she smiled feebly. “Okay. I’ll let you know when it’s time to eat.”
As it turned out, she needn’t have worried. Steven kept his distance, as if sensing her discomfort. He was even unusually quiet through dinner. Connor, on the other hand, couldn’t stop talking about the train set.
“And it’s got coal cars, and a caboose. And it lights up too.”
Emily steadied Connor’s hand. “Please don’t spill stew on the table, dear.” She caught a hint of a smile flash across Steven’s face.
Vincent chuckled. “There’s nothing Connor could spill on this table that hasn’t been slopped all over it before.”
Emily frowned, hoping he gathered that wasn’t the point. From the large grin on his face, he hadn’t gathered. She turned back to Connor. “Please watch your table manners, Connor.”
His large grey eyes stared up at her. “Yes, Mommy.”
Vincent tore into a roll. “The little man and I are about to hook up the controls, right buddy?” Bits of food came out as he spoke. Connor nodded, and Emily threw Vincent another look that went unnoticed.
After supper, Connor grabbed Vincent and dragged him off to build the rest of the train set. Steven slipped his coat on, zipped it up and wrapped his scarf around his neck. Relief flooded through her. Maybe things would return to normal between them tomorrow.
“Thank you for helping with dinner.” Emily followed him to the entry hall.
“My pleasure.” He turned and stared at her. She could tell he was struggling with something he wanted to say. Her stomach squirmed.
His eyes searched her face, and he moved toward her. Coming a little too close for her comfort, she backed up and tripped over her own feet.
“Whoa, are you okay?” Steven reached out to steady her.
She felt heat rush to her cheeks. “I’m fine.” But now she was backed up against the wall, with his hands on either side of her. She stiffened.
He stepped back, his hands up as if in surrender, then they fell to his sides. “Emily, we need to talk.”
She closed her eyes. “Steven, please, can’t we just –”
“No, I’m sorry. I can’t anymore. I have feelings for you. I think you already know that. But I can’t keep seeing you, not knowing if you will ever be able to return those feelings for me.”
The seconds ticked by. Guilt washed over her. How could he have feelings for her after all she’d done to him? And how could she ever be with him, living in his world, knowing the kinds of things reporters would say about her?
She shook her head. “Steven, you have done so much for me. Words cannot express my gratitude to you. I could never in a million years repay you for the kindness you have shown me and my son.” She took a deep breath. If only she could take back everything, start all over again. But that was impossible. And if she allowed this relationship to happen, Steven would end up getting hurt. His business might fail. He could lose so much. She stared at the floor, and her voice came out in a whisper. “I’m sorry. I don’t feel the same way about you.”
Silence filled the hallway. Emily wondered if Steven was going to get mad. He didn't look mad. She searched his face for some kind of reaction. Without warning, he leaned over and pressed his lips against hers. Warmth spread through her, his lips moving against her own. She couldn't think anymore. He pulled her close, and she found herself getting lost in the kiss. An eternity passed before he broke away. When he spoke his voice was calm and soft.
“Look me in the eyes, and tell me that you don’t have feelings for me, and I won’t bother you again.”
Her heart hammered against her chest, and her head reeled. This couldn't happen. She would ruin him. She clenched her hands and forced herself to look him in the eyes. He looked so vulnerable, so open to her. Pain stabbed at her stomach. She had to let him go. “I’m sorry, you’re a wonderful person, but I—” Her voice caught in her throat. She couldn't say the words. She took a deep breath and let it out. “I don't feel that way about you.”
Steven worked his jaw muscles while he seemed to assess the situation. Then he pinched his lips together and slipped his gloves on. “Goodbye, Emily.” He turned and went out the door.
******
Rose checked the timer on the oven. Two minutes left and the pumpkin pie would be done. She pulled the recipe box down from the cupboard and thumbed through to the back, pulling out the one marked ‘Candy Cane Cookies’. The grandkids would be coming in just a few days. There was still so much to be done. But it was nice to have the house smelling like the holidays again.
The knock at the kitchen door didn’t startle her; she was waiting for it. She went to let Steven in.
“Come on in, dear. Let me take your coat.” Rose fussed for a minute or two as she got Steven situated in the kitchen with a mug of hot cider. “I’ll go tell Frank you’ve arrived. He’s probably fallen asleep in his chair.”
Steven held up a hand. “No, don’t wake him on my account. I’ll still be here when he’s done napping.”
Rose smiled. That was just like him, always considerate of others. She hated to see him hurt. “Tell me, what happened between you and Emily?”
He rubbed his temples. “Nothing really. The more time I spent with her, the more I fell in love with her. But every time I would come near, she would pull back. I don’t know if it was because of the abuse in her past, or if it was just me, but I could feel this wall go up every time I got close to her.” He picked up his cup, swirling the hot liquid, his eyes following the steam as it rose into the air.
A dull ache formed in her chest. She waited for him to continue.
“Last night I told her how I felt.” He took a sip and set his cup down. “She told me she doesn’t feel the same.”
“I’m so sorry, Steven.” She reached across the table, and patted his hand. Any words that came to her mind felt weak and meaningless, so she stayed silent. After a while, he began to talk about Emily’s past, and what they had been through since they left. He explained everything to her.
“Sounds like you think it was Richard who killed William, not Samantha.” Rose leaned forward.
Steven shrugged. “Yes, I suppose I do think it was Richard. He’s the one with the violent temper, and he’s got this obsession with Emily, but the police have enough evidence against Samantha to arrest her. However, they also arrested Emily.” He rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair. “Shows how much they know. ”
Rose glanced at the clock. “Well, I’d better go wake up Frank. He’s been sleeping far too long in that chair. He’s going to get a kink in his neck.”
She bustled over to the sink, depositing the empty mugs in the bottom. Then leaving Steven at the table, she went to go give Frank a piece of her mind for not coming out to say hello to their guest.
All thoughts of annoyance left when she saw him. He sat in his chair as if sleeping, but his pale face told her otherwise. She ran to him and touched his hand. It was cold. Her husband was dead.
Chapter Thirty Three
Wisps of hair hung in Samantha’s face as she stared at the table. “I did not kill William.”
Detective Reed tapped his fingers on the wooden surface, as if patiently waiting for her to admit her guilt. “What did you do at his house that day?”
Her rear end felt like it was going to fall asleep if she didn’t stand up from the hard chair. She shifted her weight. “I told you. I rang the doorbell several times, and when no one answered, I got angry. His truck was in the driveway for heaven’s sake. I knew he was there, so I opened the door. I saw him lying on the floor. I freaked out and ran.”
The detective sighed and sat back in his chair. “We found your footprint in William’s blood. How do you explain that?”
His words sent shivers of fear through her.
Why am I lying? They already have enough evidence to put me in jail. I should just admit the truth.
She couldn’t bring herself to speak.
He must have sensed that he hit a nerve, so he continued. “You said you didn’t enter the house. How could you have made that bloody footprint if you hadn’t entered the house?”
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