“Do you think Dillon is dead?” Marissa finally asked gently.
Tonya blinked twice, then seemed to shake herself back into the moment and began speaking with airy unconcern: “Oh, I have no idea. Andrew hasn’t heard from him since Dillon left town, but of course he wouldn’t. Dillon used to make fun of Andrew for being such a straight arrow, and he is.”
“Does Andrew think Dillon caused Gretchen’s death?”
“He refuses to talk about that subject. He talks about Dillon sometimes—how mean their father was to both of them but especially Dillon, how much worse things got after their mother died, the good times they had on the Annemarie. He mentions how much they both liked Mitch Farrell playing ‘big brother’ to them, taking them places occasionally, showing them how to do some woodworking. You remember Sheriff Farrell had that whole building full of woodworking equipment. He made all kinds of stuff like cedar chests and…oh, I don’t know what all.
“Old Mr. Archer probably wouldn’t have let anyone else take the boys places, but Sheriff Farrell could be intimidating. And he could have put the word out and ruined Archer Auto Repair.” Tonya’s voice had grown vague, almost maundering. “Old Mr. Archer was furious when Andrew left for college. Andrew worked his way through school.”
“I know, Tonya. He’d already graduated summa cum laude when I went to Chicago.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Tonya waved her hand absently. “I’m getting time mixed up. Andrew loved college. Can you imagine loving college? I knew it wasn’t for me. I know Catherine really loved it. How about you?”
“It was all right,” Marissa answered tersely. She didn’t want to say anything that would disrupt Tonya’s train of thought and possibly reveal something about her state of mind, because at the moment she was still trying to get a fix on the woman sitting across from her, a Tonya whom Marissa felt she’d never met.
Tonya seemed to be rambling as she gazed into the fire: “I was friendly with Dillon when I was around seventeen. We were friends, that’s all, but Andrew doesn’t want to hear a word about it, not that there’s anything to tell. He always felt inferior to Dillon and I guess he had a crush on me even back then, but I didn’t know it. I’m glad I didn’t, because I thought he definitely wasn’t for me and I might have tried to discourage him by saying something to hurt his feelings.” She drew a deep breath and continued, “So I don’t know a thing about Dillon. I never want to see him again. He’s Trouble with a capital T.”
“I’m sure Andrew understands you were friendly to Dillon—you were friendly to everybody.” Tonya’s gaze jerked from the fire to Marissa. “When I said you were friendly to everyone, I just meant you were always pleasant, not flirtatious, with every guy in school, Tonya.”
“Some men can’t differentiate between pleasant and flirtatious. That was the problem.”
Marissa glanced at Tonya, who seemed to be growing stiffer by the moment. Marissa decided to keep babbling. “Frankly, I didn’t think about Dillon much during the years I was gone. School kept me busy and I thought I’d be getting married when I graduated. Then things changed and I went to Chicago instead of getting married. But the last month, Dillon has been on my mind. I suppose it’s just natural to wonder where he is after almost five years.”
Tonya’s voice suddenly hardened. “Look, Marissa, I know you’re trying to patch up things with Eric, and maybe you think feeding him information about Dillon will help, but you might as well stop questioning me. I don’t have any information about Dillon.”
Surprise overtook Marissa, and for a moment she could think of nothing to say. Finally, she came out with, “What makes you think I’m trying to patch up things with Eric?”
“I think half the town has heard about him coming here after your wreck and you going to see him two days later—”
“I had to give a statement, Tonya.”
“He’s been here quite a bit.”
“He has not! I don’t know who’s been telling you all of this, but your source is unreliable. He hasn’t ‘been here quite a bit,’ as you put it. There is nothing between Eric and me.”
“I guess that’s why you’re getting so snippy with me.”
“I’m not—”
“You are and I think it’s time for me to go.” Tonya stood, her hair shining like copper in the light of the fire. “I hope we can renew our friendship, Marissa, but I can see it’s going to take some time. And I have no interest in whether or not you’re seeing Eric again. I don’t know why you got so upset when I brought up the subject.”
“I didn’t get upset.”
“Yes, well, whatever you want to call it.” Tonya abruptly turned from annoyed to casual. “It’s been…interesting seeing you again, Marissa. Maybe the next time we talk, we can find a more cheerful topic than Dillon Archer or the love life you’re claiming you don’t have.” She was halfway to the door with Marissa trailing after her and Lindsay bringing up the rear. “Andrew told me not to ‘spring’ myself on you this way. He said you’d be defensive and it would probably be best if I just let things drift for a while. I see that he was right.”
“Tonya, I didn’t mean to upset you or make you angry or interrogate you or offend you in any way,” Marissa said as Tonya put on her coat. “I told you I’ve had a rotten day. It’s my fault tonight didn’t turn out so well. Can’t we try again?”
“Perhaps someday.” Tonya had put on a haughty air along with her coat. “I did enjoy seeing you before things got uncomfortable. And Marissa, I hope you won’t go whining to Andrew about our less-than-successful visit.”
“Whining?” Marissa’s emotions abruptly swept from regretful to indignant. “Do you think I’d run to your husband and whine like a twelve-year-old?”
Tonya gave her a long look. “Honey, I have no idea what you might do. I never did.”
2
Andrew had been right, Tonya thought as she started the drive home. He had said she shouldn’t spring a visit on Marissa. She should arrange something casual, maybe invite Marissa out to lunch and keep the conversation light before having a serious talk with her. But Andrew didn’t know all of the reasons Tonya had wanted to talk to Marissa. He didn’t know how upset she was, how sleepless, how many disastrous scenarios she’d imagined. Tonight she had gotten so agitated she’d decided time was desperately short and she needed to talk with Marissa now. So Tonya had made the mistake of going to the Grays’ house on impulse and she’d been so nervous she’d made a mess of the visit. Worse—a disaster. Marissa no doubt thought she was crazy and would start talking about Tonya to everyone she knew.
Tonya burst into tears. Dammit, she should have listened to Andrew even if he didn’t know everything about her life, she thought as she drove with extra care on streets that still bore traces of dirty snow and ice. After all, in his calm, unobtrusive way, he’d managed his own life so much better than she had her own. She loved Andrew more than she had thought herself capable of loving a man who was neither dashingly handsome nor well fixed in the money department. For years, she had pursued that kind of man—pursued and generally lost to a woman younger, prettier, or more socially superior than Tonya Ward. Acting charming in the subdued, cultured way she’d been practicing since she was an adolescent had become so tiring, she’d thought of abandoning the whole project and resigning herself to being the mistress of a man who would at least “keep” her, even if he’d never propose.
Then Andrew had asked for a date. She now blushed in shame to think she’d accepted mostly because he’d invited her to dinner at the Larke Inn, which she loved. She’d expected to enjoy getting dressed up, eating excellent food in the elegant ambience of the dining room, and perhaps catching the eye of one of the city’s prominent bachelors or ex-husbands while not having to worry about impressing Andrew.
Instead, Andrew had amazed her with his polished demeanor, perfect manners, and only slightly less than handsome looks. He’d been alternately witty, serious, genuinely interested in what she had to say, and—stun
ned as she was to admit it when she got home—he’d been the most charming man she’d gone out with for ages. Later, she’d discovered he was a better-than-average lover—slow, tender, yet passionate and definitely experienced.
Within two months, Tonya realized being with Andrew gave her a feeling of safety and stability she hadn’t known since her father had died when she was twelve. A month later, she had proposed to him. A stunned Andrew couldn’t accept fast enough, nor did he object to eloping. After all, he had no family and she had only a mother who’d lost interest in her years ago. Tonya had been unbelievably happy for five months and three days after she’d learned she was pregnant. She hadn’t told Andrew yet—she was saving it as a surprise for his birthday on Thursday. He would be thrilled.
And Tonya would be ecstatic except for one thing—Marissa Gray had come back to Aurora Falls in June and decided to stay.
When Marissa had returned to take care of her mother, Tonya had been certain she would leave for Chicago or some other big city after Annemarie Gray died. But Marissa had lingered, and in October Andrew had come home and announced that she’d decided to stay in Aurora Falls and he’d hired her. He was jubilant—he said Marissa was an excellent reporter, a natural, a wonderful addition to the Gazette.
Tonya felt as if a storm had shattered the summer sky when she learned blond-haired, confident, inflexible Marissa Gray had invaded the beautiful life she’d built for herself. Marissa knew too much about her—things she could bring to light or begin harping about, like Gretchen’s death. Things that could humiliate both Tonya and Andrew—maybe even make Andrew realize what a mistake he’d made in marrying her. And now, after the picture of her and Andrew decorating the tree had arrived, Tonya feared Dillon was back in town. He’d been Tonya’s friend, or so she’d thought, but she now believed Dillon was far from being a friend—she feared he was dangerous and maybe even insane. As soon as Tonya learned she was pregnant, she knew she had to start fervently protecting her world. First, she had to know if Dillon really had come back to Aurora Falls. Her next step was to find out how much Marissa knew about Tonya’s past. The last was to rebuild her friendship with Marissa, who could destroy all Tonya had accomplished.
Distracted, Tonya had taken a left turn instead of a right, sending her down the less-populated Harper Street rather than the road leading back to the highway. She hadn’t driven on Harper Street for years and couldn’t help looking at the modest home now painted soft blue with white shutters, much more tasteful than when it had been yellow-green and brown and belonged to Edgar Blume.
Edgar Blume was a name that drifted through her mind at least once a day and always produced a chill. She hadn’t seen him for ten years, yet with sickening clarity she recalled his small, seeking eyes, the greasy hair combed across his bald spot, his foul breath when he so often leaned over her desk to “help” her with a math problem, his ever-present body odor, and his perpetual look of superiority.
Back in high school she’d managed to dodge him fairly well until she’d brought calamity down on herself by cheating on an algebra test in his class. She remembered running to the bathroom after the class and crying stormily. Marissa had followed her and she’d blurted out what she’d done. Marissa had been sympathetic but couldn’t help her. The next day Blume had confronted Tonya and threatened to report her for cheating to the principal, a report that would end up with her being expelled and humiliated, a report he’d told her would not happen if they could “talk” about the matter, Only Blume was using talk as a euphemism.
Tonya had thought of turning the tables and reporting Edgar Blume to the principal for sexual harassment, but her female English teacher had lodged a similar complaint against her a year earlier and another incident had occurred two months ago, when the principal had warned Tonya if this happened again he would expel her. She knew that if she got herself kicked out of an ordinary public school she would never win the attention of the guy on whom she’d set her sights: Will Addison—good-looking and son of the prosperous and socially prominent mayor. Even if things didn’t work out with Will, the humiliation of the expulsion would follow her for years.
Tonya had been certain she could bear Edgar Blume for one brief encounter—after all, she’d endured a repulsive stepfather for almost a year—but Tonya knew her attractions. One sweaty rendezvous would not satisfy Blume. He would want more and more and eventually he would get careless or brag and then everyone would know. Tonya had felt as if she’d rather die.
Tonya pulled herself back to the present when, with relief, she made another right turn and got herself on the road leading to the highway. What a stupid mistake to turn onto the street where Blume had lived, she thought. She’d traveled these roads a hundred times. She was so edgy, so frightened, she felt as if he’d somehow drawn her there to remind her of him, of everything that had sprung from her hideous evening with him, of everything she now could lose.
The wind suddenly picked up and the limbs of a thick evergreen near the street swayed as if the whole tree was going to blow in front of her. She slammed on her brakes, cringing as the seat belt tightened on her abdomen. Tonya feared the strap had hurt the baby and felt on the verge of tears again. Ten minutes, she thought. If she could keep her wits, she could be home in just ten minutes, but even that seemed like an eternity.
Nausea sprouted and grew in Tonya’s body. She rolled down a window and took a deep breath of sharp, icy air. Then another. A deep coldness settled in her body and she quickly closed the window and turned up the car heater. Already she was experiencing morning sickness and she felt as if she might have to stop by the side of the road and throw up, but it wasn’t morning. “Be sensible, Tonya,” she said aloud. “The baby isn’t making you sick, thinking about Blume is, so stop it. Immediately!” God. She’d sounded just like him. Immediately had seemed to be his favorite word.
She stopped at a red light, put in a CD, and tried to sing along with “Save Me” by k. d. lang. Lyrics she sang every time she drove now deserted her, though. All she could think about was walking to Edgar Blume’s house on that February evening, opening his back door, smiling as he rushed her into his darkened kitchen, grabbing for her and rubbing his hands all over her body. He’d brushed his teeth, but toothpaste couldn’t cover the putrid breath. She’d forced herself to ignore it and steer him into the living room so fast he forgot to lock the kitchen door—the door where Dillon Archer had promised her he’d enter the house within ten minutes. Dillon had been her casual, secret sex partner on and off since they’d met aboard the Annemarie and he hated Blume even more than Blume hated him.
“I brought this,” Tonya had said flatly, holding up a bottle of red wine. Dillon had given her the wine and told her not to sound happy when she presented it. Blume was supposed to get the idea she’d brought it to help numb her senses.
Blume had looked at the bottle dubiously. “Ruby port? Is that what you teenagers are drinking these days?”
“One day in class you said you liked it. I tried it. It’s heavy and sweet.”
“‘Heavy and sweet’ sounds like you’re talking about cough syrup, but at least you’re trying to please, aren’t you?” She’d shrugged. “My wife’s mother is sick and she’s with her for the night. Took the kid. But this isn’t a party, Tonya.”
Tonya had given him an icy glare. “You think this is a party for me? Pour us each a glass and I’ll be more relaxed. Or forget the wine and I’ll be more than happy to leave no matter what the consequences.”
“You aren’t going anywhere if you want to stay in school and keep a little dignity in this town. Get in the bedroom—the big one. I’ll fix the damned wine.”
The wine. To this day Tonya could not bear the sight of port wine. In fact, she rarely drank at all. Drinking loosened her tongue. What was that old saying? “Loose lips sink ships.” No truer words were ever spoken, she thought, laughed aloud, and abruptly stopped. My God, she was driving in an empty car on an icy night and laughing with an edge of hyster
ia in her voice. Was that what a visit to Marissa Gray had done to her?
No, this was what remembering that night with Edgar Blume was doing to her. After all these years, he could still make her sick, afraid, haunted.
Dillon had told her to touch as few things as possible in the bedroom and to leave as little of “herself” as possible, so she’d only stripped out of her jeans and sweater and slipped under the blanket. “Here,” Blume said harshly, handing her a glass. “Why are you still wearing a bra?”
“Can’t you give me a few minutes to loosen up? And you’ve got all your clothes on.”
He’d promptly begun to strip and Tonya could have kicked herself. She couldn’t bear to look at him. She sipped the wine she hated and told herself to think of something else. But in a moment, Blume had stood in the dim bedroom light in all his glory—sinewy, white as a corpse, and hairy. He’d gulped down his wine, made a face that indicated approval—Dillon had known not to go cheap with the evening’s refreshment—and once again told her to take off all her clothes.
“Not until I get more wine,” Tonya had said, trying to sound calm when everything inside her shook.
Blume’s small eyes had narrowed even more. “I told you we’re not having a party.”
“But we could have.” He’d looked at her, blinking rapidly. “You know I wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t forcing me, but you are forcing me and if you’re not satisfied, I stand to lose a lot. I’m not stupid…Edgar. You said your wife won’t be coming home tonight. We don’t have to hurry. I really liked that wine. It made me feel warm and sexy, but I could feel sexier, do whatever you want. See? I’ll make it good for you in bed and you’ll make things good for me at school.” She’d paused, amazed at her imitation of composure. “Get some wine for both of us. Nice big servings. I’ll give you a night you won’t forget.”
He’d looked at her dubiously for a moment as if wondering if she weren’t pushing the wine on him. She had thought her heart might beat out of her chest because that’s exactly what she had been trying to do. But apparently Blume assured himself that he had opened a new bottle of wine and that Tonya was asking him to get their second glasses.
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