by Dianne Miley
Lilacs For Laura
Lilacs For Laura
Chapter 23—Confession
Brett’s heart turned to stone. She loved him more than anything but she couldn’t stay. What cruel game was she playing?
Laura’s face scrunched up. “The police still haven’t finished the investigation. I was supposed to notify them if I left town, but guess what? I forgot.” She thumped down in a chair. “I’m probably on America’s Most Wanted by now.”
He laughed, harder than was safe in his condition. His collarbone, his ribs, and his chest screamed with pain but he didn’t care. Nothing hurt as much as thinking he’d lost her again.
“Oh, you think that’s funny?” She wasn’t laughing, but did crack a smile.
“Honey, I’m just relieved. I...I thought you were going to say your family needed you, or your business needed you.”
“They do.”
He held his breath. No. Not this again.
“But I need you. I love my family and my job, but I love you more.” She searched his eyes.
Joy flooded his soul. He touched her face. “Laura, I love you. I’ve been miserable without you.”
“Me too!” A smile brightened her face. “ Rosebuds, Crystal Falls, and even my family can never make me as happy as being with you. Despite everything that’s going on, even knowing I have to go back and face the police, being with you makes me happy.”
He didn’t want to think about the police. But she could go to jail and he knew she didn’t do it. “Are there any leads yet?”
“Mr. Calvin may have seen something, but he had a stroke.” Something fearful crossed her features. “But what if he saw me shooting at coons, and he thinks I did it?”
“Baldy knows you’re not a killer. And so does Hunter.”
“What if I shot Jake by accident?” She shuddered.
“Then it was an accident. But I don’t believe it.” He stroked her hair. “Someone else fired that third shot.”
Did she know Chad and her father were both out there? Yet there was no way they’d let her take the blame. Would they?
“Someone in Crystal Falls wanted Jake dead,” he assured her. “And somehow, some way, the truth will come out.”
“Thanks for believing in me.” Tears filled her blue eyes and she drew in a ragged breath. “It’s been rough at home, but I’ll always love it there.”
He clenched his teeth.
“Yet I’d rather be with you.” The tiniest smile graced her lips, and her eyes turned violet, quick and deep. “NASCAR is your dream—the chance of a lifetime. You can’t give that up.”
His heart hammered. So much to say, yet words eluded him.
“I’ve had a wonderful life,” she continued. “Now it’s your turn, and I want to share my life with you. Crystal Falls and my family will always be there. This opportunity won’t.”
“Come here.” He reached for her, ignoring the pain, and hugged her to him. The comfort of her presence, her love, and her willing sacrifice drugged him better than any anesthetic.
Laura loved him. More than her family, more than Rosebuds , more than Crystal Falls. She came to him, right here in Charlotte. Then reality muted his joy.
She couldn’t stay.
****
In her hotel room, Laura curled up in bed with the desk phone on her lap. If only she could afford a cell phone. When Rosebuds was making profit again, she’d move out on her own and...Her thought stopped short.
Either she was moving here with Brett...Or she was going to jail. Her life at Rosebuds was over.
Grief overwhelmed her. But Brett made it all worthwhile. Otherwise, the loss would be unbearable.
She shook off her thoughts and dialed her parents’ number. She’d be staying in Charlotte for a while. Chief Hunter needed to be notified.
Right after hello, Emily cried, “You’ve got to come back.”
“Mama, what’s wrong?” Laura sat straight up on the bed.
“Laura.” Fear in her mother’s voice carried through the phone lines. “Chief Hunter came to question you.”
“Did he find something?” She braced herself.
“I don’t know, honey. But he was awful upset about you leaving town.”
“He thinks I’m a murderer!”
“No, Laura. But running off to Charlotte doesn’t look good. You never notified the chief. He needs to see you right away.”
“Oh, no. I forgot. I’ll leave...” Her voice shook.
“In the morning.” Emily finished. “You need some sleep.”
Not that she’d get any. But Laura relished her mother’s protectiveness, missing the accompanying hug. Funny, how the distance changed her perspective. Why did she have to lose something to appreciate it?
“I’ll tell the chief to expect you late in the day. Daddy’s expecting a report as soon as you’re done.”
“Okay. That’s a promise.”
“See you then.” Despair filled her mother’s pause. “I love you, honey.”
“I love you too, Mama. Good night.” Laura dropped the phone in its cradle. Within 24 hours, she had driven to Charlotte and had to drive back.
Brett would be devastated. But he’d be better off without her. She’d never get out of this.
****
Colorful flying leaves and cooler temperatures greeted Laura as she drove across the Crystal Falls line on Monday afternoon. The damp chill soaked into her bones and her very soul. She missed Brett already, and she wondered what was going on in her quiet little town.
Physical and emotional exhaustion overtook her. At five A.M., she’d given up trying to sleep and began the long trip home. After eight hours on the road and very little to eat over the last twenty-four, she climbed down antiquated stairs into the basement of the town hall.
The Crystal Falls Police Department consisted of two desks and four filing cabinets. She heard a hullabaloo from somewhere down an empty hallway. With drunken ramblings, the clatter echoed like a metal cup banging against iron bars. She shivered.
“Don’t pay no mind to that,” Chief Hunter advised. She caught a whiff of his signature cigar breath as he stamped out a smoking cigar and stood to close the heavy door, muffling the noise.
She saw visions of herself behind those bars. The chief thought she and Rachel were in on this together. Little did he know, her sister wouldn’t even speak to her. Still, she’d keep the secret to protect Rachel, but how would she protect herself?
Back at his desk, Hunter took out a report and turned on his tiny tape recorder. He looked at her with solemn sternness. “Sarita Santos was in a car accident.”
Laura gasped. This couldn’t be happening. Her head spun.
“Is she all right?”
“She’s pretty banged up, but the doctors sent her home.”
“Thank God.” Would she lose the baby?
“Ms. Santos’ brake lines were cut the same way Ms. Gallagher’s were.” Seeming to struggle with his words and their implications, he watched her reaction. “And Jake Santos is dead this time.”
Her stomach knotted as realization dawned. She shook her head violently. “I had nothing to do with it!” With white knuckles, she gripped the purse in her lap and averted his worried brown eyes.
“Someone is systematically killing off the undesirable population. I can’t tolerate vigilantes. And so far every victim is linked to you and your sister, Rachel.” He paused, searching her face. “Why were you at Sarita’s apartment?”
Stunned, she had no argument, no explanation why she’d been there. Nothing she said would make her look any less guilty.
“I took her a bouquet of roses. In sympathy for Jake’s death.” The excuse sounded lame even to her own ears.
After the interview, she dragged herself from the metal chair and up the dreary staircase. She wanted nothing but to run home to bed, crawl under the covers, and hide forever. But she’d promised her father a report. So she drove to Rosebuds and parked behind the building next to his delivery van. He appeared at
the back door, carrying a tray of flower arrangements. Apprehensively, she climbed from her car.
John looked agitated already. He stopped on the first of four steps. “What’d the chief say?”
“Why don’t you sit down?”
“Give it to me straight, Laura!” He shifted the flower carrier beneath one arm to rest on his hip. Black-eyed susans, daisies, bright yellow mums, and pink snapdragons peeked over the top.
“Sarita Santos was in a car accident. Her brake lines were cut, just like Layla Gallagher’s.”
John narrowed his eyes. “Did he blame you?”
She squirmed. No more lies. “Me and Rachel both.”
“Dadgummit!” He pounded a fist on the railing. The tray of flowers teetered. He jerked to steady them, and the box slid from his hip. In slow motion, he flailed to catch the flowers and lost his balance.
Laura ran toward him, knowing she was too late.
Her father tumbled down the brick steps and landed in a heap on the asphalt below.
Curled into a ball of pain, he cried out, “My knee!”
****
Tuesday evening, with a brace on his neck and his arm in a sling, Brett drove north. He didn’t stop in Crystal Falls, but headed for Springfield Hospital.
In the physical therapy division, he halted in the doorway of Room 232. Certain the occupants hadn’t seen him, he moved behind the wall and peeked in.
With her back to the door, Myrtle Winthrop bent over Mr. Calvin with a plate of homemade cookies.
Myrtle baked cookies? Brett stepped back from the doorway, acting nonchalant as he loitered in the hallway, listening.
“Don’t worry about the hospital bills,” she said. “It’ll be our little secret.”
Baking cookies and paying hospital bills? That wasn’t like her at all. Her tone sounded like she was preparing to leave, so he scurried down the hall and ducked into a lounge. He sank into a chair with a view of the elevators and hid behind a newspaper.
Myrtle wasn’t generous to anyone, let alone crotchety Mr. Calvin. So what was in it for her? Brett remembered her strange behavior in the hardware store, buying tin snips and shotgun shells. Her remarks about Layla Gallagher played through his mind. ‘The police ought to run that riff-raff out of town.’
That wicked witch wanted Calvin to keep his mouth shut.
****
Laura rubbed her temples as the doctor left her father’s hospital room. He recommended knee replacement surgery, just as they’d feared. Another brick in the foundation of her life crumbled. She had to restore her security.
John shifted in the bed, grimacing at his leg. Woozy with drugs, he slurred, “I thought with Jake dead our troubles would be over.”
Angry tears pooling in her eyes, Rachel shot her sister an accusing glance and left the room in a huff. She hadn’t spoken to Laura since the day she’d slapped her.
“Now, John.” Emily shushed him, straightening his blanket. He batted her hand away, totally unlike himself. But he’d been acting strangely since before the Demerol.
Chad squeezed his mother’s shoulder with reassurance and then chased after Rachel.
Since Jake was shot, John had been agitated, making outlandish comments. And he claimed Chief Hunter would clear her, he’d see to that. How on earth would he “see to that?”
“I can’t afford a knee replacement,” he bemoaned. “We drained our savings for the last surgery. Our co-pay alone was astra...astro...onomical,” he stammered, dragging his hands over his face. “I...I...I cancelled our health insurance.”
“What?” Laura exploded. Her mother issued a warning look. She clamped her mouth and fumed silently.
“Now, John, we’ll work it out somehow,” Emily consoled.
“How?” he growled. “You heard what the doc said. Months of recovery. No field work. No driving. Who’s gonna make deliveries? We can’t afford to hire someone, Em.”
“Don’t get yourself all worked up, honey,” Emily soothed.
Laura squeezed her eyes shut, but her head spun. Her eyes shot open and she gripped a chair for balance. Unable to stomach her father’s vulnerability, she wandered into the hall.
Mama couldn’t run Rosebuds alone. No florist worth her salt would work for the pay Laura accepted. She was dedicated to growing the business and keeping their family heritage alive. And she had free room and board.
Even if Chief Hunter cleared her, how could she leave her parents now? How would she keep her promise to Brett?
Roaming the empty corridor aimlessly, she heard her name.
“Laura?” Her name came from nowhere.
Great—now she was imagining things!
“Laura!” Low but urgent, the familiar male voice felt like balm to her soul. Her heart raced as she froze.
From a doorway she’d passed, he rushed toward her, neck brace, sling and all.
“Brett!” Her heart melted on the spot. She ran into his arms and he returned her hug with his good arm before abruptly pulling her back into the lounge.
“Wow. I guess you’re glad to see me,” he said quietly.
Pulling back, she caught his gleaming grin and those adorable dimples. “I tried to call you. What are you doing here?”
He put a shooshing finger to her lips. “Just here to rescue my girl,” he whispered.
“Boy, I wish,” she murmured. The gravity of her situation hit hard. Surely he didn’t know about her father yet.
“So what are you doing here?” he asked.
She frowned. “Daddy fell and hurt his knee again.”
“Will he be okay?” His voice held caring concern.
“He needs surgery again,” she said with a shrug, not wanting to talk about it. She burrowed into his warm embrace and tried to forget that she couldn’t be with him forever. “So why are we whispering?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he pulled back to catch her eye and waggled his eyebrows.
“Come on, I’ve had enough drama to last a lifetime.”
“Okay,” he said with a quiet laugh. “Guess who I just saw in Mr. Calvin’s room?”
She cringed. “You talked to Mr. Calvin?”
“Nope, but I’m going to. Right now he’s busy with Myrtle Winthrop. The old bat baked him cookies!”
“Myrtle is no Suzie Homemaker,” she said with confusion. “She does not bake cookies.”
He shrugged. “Okay, maybe they’re from the bakery.” He explained what he heard, both here and in the hardware store. “Once she leaves, I’m going to get the truth out of Calvin.”
But even if Brett was right, would Mr. Calvin side with Laura over Myrtle’s money and buttering up? That was a tall order for a poor, lonely old man. Worse, what if he saw her shooting at coons and stacked more evidence against her? Did Laura trust Brett’s instinct enough to risk it?
It all boiled down to her trust and faith in Brett.
He silently motioned to the hallway.
Head high, Myrtle punched the elevator button. The doors immediately opened, as if even they honored her highness. She stepped inside and the doors swallowed her up. If only.
“Let’s go,” Brett urged before she could decide whether or not this was a good idea.
“I don’t know what to say,” she fretted.
“Don’t worry. I’ll do the talking. You just stand there and look pretty.” He kissed her cheek and pulled her into the hall.
His confidence buoyed her. She trusted him. If Calvin saw her shooting, it was an accident. But what if he implicated Rachel?
She had to face the truth no matter what Mr. Calvin revealed. Laura whispered a silent prayer. If ever she needed to trust in God, it was now.
Mr. Calvin munched cookies in bed. An IV drained into his arm, and a monitor hummed beside him. The red line jumped steadily with his heartbeat. It spiked when he saw them. His pale blue eyes narrowed, deepening the wrinkles in his face.
“What you want?” he barked with broken speech.
Taking that as an invitatio
n, Brett entered the room. “Hi, Mr. Calvin. I’m Brett Mitchell, Wayne’s son.”
“I kn...kn...know who y...you are,” he sputtered.
Laura joined them. “Hi, Mr. Calvin.”
“Ha! Making a s...social call?” A frail arm lifted to scratch his shiny scalp. “Come to s...see the old h...hermit with no family?” He collected his voice. “I don’t need yer pity.”
His tone irritated Laura. Apparently Myrtle’s visit hadn’t improved his perpetual grumpy mood.
“No sir, it’s not a social call.” Brett sounded anxious to play hardball. “I’ve come to ask if you saw who murdered Jake Santos behind your orchard.”
“Like I told the cops, boy, I d...didn’t see nuttin’.” He glared at Brett, waving an arm toward the door. “Now get out and leave me alone to d...die.” He leaned back on the pillows and stared out the window.
“If that monitor is any indication, it looks like your heart’s gonna be ticking for a while,” Brett said. “Maybe you’ll even get home in time to see Laura carted off to prison.”
Baldy’s head snapped toward her. “What’s he talking ‘bout?”
“I’m the prime suspect,” she replied. “Jake threatened me. The cops know that, and I don’t have an alibi.”
His bushy eyebrows shot up an inch and his face turned ashen. The monitor’s red line made a jump shot too. “They have no p…proof you did it.” He crossed his arms over his chest and turned back to the window with a stoic stare. “You ain’t g…going to j…jail.” He clammed up then, seeming sorry he’d spoken. He obviously knew something.
“What makes you so sure?” Laura asked.
The old man’s eye twitched and his fingers dug white dents into his arms. He sat still as a statue other than that twitching eye. His jaw clenched shut.
They needed to make that jaw drop and get it flapping.
“You know who shot Jake,” Brett said confidently, menacingly. “You’ll never sleep another night of your life if you let this innocent woman go to prison.”
Baldy stared out the window. A tear trickled down the crease of his cheek. He scrubbed a hand over the white stubble on his trembling chin.
“I didn’t know those s...stupid cops were b...blaming her,” he stuttered. “Old Man G...Gallagher was the one threatenin’ revenge.” Agitated, he shifted in the bed.