by C. B. Clark
She’d stayed with Bonnie at her hospital bedside all night, watching every breath, every twitch of her daughter’s eyelids. They’d released Bonnie this morning, and now she rested upstairs in her room. Vivian had offered to sit with her, giving Carrie Ann the first opportunity since the night before to talk to Leland and find out what was happening with Declan. “I still don’t understand,” she said. “Why is the sheriff so certain Declan did this?”
Leland exhaled a cloud of smoke. “How can you ask such a question? You saw the piece of scarf they found in McAllister’s pocket.”
“I explained all that to the sheriff. Why won’t anyone listen?” Tears of frustration filled her eyes. How many times did she have to say this? “I found that cloth on the seat of my car where someone placed it when I was out at Rankin’s Farm, before the SUV crashed into me. Declan had nothing to do with it.”
He smirked. “So you say.”
“It’s true.” She rubbed her aching temples. “I know I should have told the sheriff about the cloth sooner, but—”
He raised his hand, stopping her. “It’s time you quit defending him. Time you faced the truth.” His gaze pinned her to her chair. “As sure as I’m sitting here, McAllister is guilty.” He sat back, a smug expression on his face, and crossed one leg over the other and sucked on his pipe. “Besides, there’s more. After the phone call from the witness to the kidnapping, the sheriff sent a deputy to McAllister’s motel room. They found some very incriminating evidence.”
“What did they find?” She couldn’t imagine Declan possessing anything to connect him to Skye’s murder or Bonnie’s kidnapping.
“Another piece of the scarf Skye Lawrence was wearing the night she was killed.”
She gaped, her mouth opening and closing, as Leland’s shocking announcement sank in.
“It was hidden under a loose section of carpet in his motel room.”
“I don’t understand. Declan gave the cloth he found in the old barn to Jessup Caruthers, and Jessup turned it into the sheriff. The sheriff has the one from my car.”
“The deputy found another piece.”
“But that’s ridiculous. Why would Declan have another piece of her scarf?” She held her breath, afraid of his answer, afraid what it would mean, especially now, when she and Declan seemed to be… Seemed to be what? A memory of how his stern features had softened, and his eyes had turned to molten chocolate when they found Bonnie safe in the barn flashed before her.
Leland pinned her with a hard gaze. “Think about it. Only the murderer would have had access to a section of Skye’s scarf. McAllister’s been found with three pieces.”
Murderer. She reeled back as if he’d slapped her. Had she been wrong all these years? Was Declan a murderer? Could the father of her child be a cold-blooded killer? Again an image of Declan watching Bonnie in the barn rose before her, and with the image, a certainty arose within her. No matter what had happened in the past, one truth stood out—Declan loved Bonnie. She knew in her heart and soul his love for his daughter was strong. He’d never do anything to harm her. Carrie Ann had abandoned him once; she wouldn’t desert him again.
Jumping up from the couch, she planted her hands on her hips and faced Leland. “Anyone could have put the piece of Skye’s scarf in Declan’s motel room.” Her voice grew stronger with the certainty she was right. “The whole town knows he’s staying at the Blue Horizon Motel. It’s an old motel. I bet the locks are flimsy, if they even work at all.”
“True,” said Leland. “But the question is why would someone go to all the trouble?”
“I don’t know.” She closed her eyes to the image of Declan’s haunted face as he was hauled away in handcuffs. His eyes had been flat and cold. She’d tried to talk to him, to tell him she’d help, but there’d been too many people, too much noise, and she had Bonnie to think of. “Is there any evidence to indicate Declan was involved in Bonnie’s kidnapping?”
“I told you. The sheriff received a tip from someone who said they saw Declan put Bonnie in his car.”
“Someone’s trying to frame him like they did twelve years ago.”
“One thing I’ve learned in my years in the legal field is you never really know someone. You don’t know what darkness lurks inside a man, what he’s capable of.”
“I know Declan. I know he’s innocent.”
“The evidence suggests otherwise.”
She rubbed her hands over her face. The nightmare was happening all over again—Declan accused of murder, everyone certain of his guilt. And now a kidnapping charge. She’d left him to face the accusations alone once before. Not this time. “I thought a person was innocent until proven guilty.”
“The piece of Skye’s scarf found in his motel room is the third section of scarf connected to McAllister. It can’t be a coincidence.” Leland tamped out the ash from the bowl of his pipe and set his pipe in the ashtray. “You and Bonnie should return to Seattle and leave this sordid business behind. Get on with your life.”
Carrie Ann’s heart sank. Leland thought Declan was guilty. Everyone in town thought he was. Declan was alone.
“Bonnie’s asking for you.” Vivian stood in the doorway, her face white, lines of exhaustion carved deep across her cheeks. Bonnie’s kidnapping had taken a toll on her. She’d stayed at the hospital all night, offering silent support by her calm presence.
“Thanks for being here for me and Bonnie,” Carrie Ann said. “Having your support at a time like this helps.”
Vivian’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “You’re my niece. Bonnie’s my great-niece. Family supports each other. I should have been there for you years ago. I let you down when you needed me the most; something I’ll regret for the rest of my life.”
Carrie Ann swallowed over the lump in her throat and walked out of the room and up the stairs to Bonnie’s room.
****
Putting down the book she’d been reading to Bonnie, Carrie Ann studied her daughter. The child’s face was pale. The doctor had warned Carrie Ann to watch for signs Bonnie was having difficulty breathing, one of many possible side effects of the drug with which she’d been injected. But Bonnie seemed fine. Thank goodness for the resilience of youth. “How are you feeling?”
Bonnie rolled her eyes. “You asked me the same thing a minute ago. I told you, I’m okay.”
“I’m worried about you.”
“I know, but I’m fine, Mom. Really.”
“Good to hear, young lady,” said a deep voice.
Carrie Ann glanced over her shoulder.
Sheriff Atkins stood in the doorway, twisting the brim of his peaked, felt hat in his big hands. He directed his comment at Carrie Ann as he strode toward the bed. “Your aunt let me in.” His hard-eyed gaze softened as he studied Bonnie. “I’m glad you’re doing all right, Bonnie. You gave us quite a scare last night.”
Bonnie picked up her stuffed frog and clutched it to her chest. “I was scared too.” Her young voice was barely above a whisper.
“We all were.” Carrie Ann patted her daughter’s shoulder. “But you’re safe now, honey. You don’t have to worry.”
The sheriff picked up a wooden chair from the far side of the room and set it beside the bed before sitting down. “Are you up to answering a few questions, Bonnie?”
Bonnie bit her bottom lip and slid her gaze to Carrie Ann.
“It’s okay, honey. I’m right here. The sheriff needs to know what happened last night.”
“Why did you leave the house yesterday afternoon without telling anyone?” he asked.
“I was mad at Mom, and I wanted to get away to think.”
Carrie Ann took Bonnie’s hand in hers, holding her much smaller hand tight. “It’s okay. You can tell the sheriff anything.”
“Mom told me Declan’s my dad, and I was upset.”
The sheriff’s thick, gray brows rose. “So you decided to run away.”
She shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing. “It wasn’t like that. I wanted t
o be alone.” Her lower lip trembled. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
“It’s okay, honey.”
“Why did you follow the path along the river?” Sheriff Atkins asked.
“I saw Mom and Declan go on the trail. I wanted to see where they’d gone. I know I shouldn’t have, not without telling someone, but I was all mixed up inside.”
“What happened next?”
Her fingers dug into the soft fur of her stuffed toy. “I was walking along the path. You know, not paying attention to anything. Then…” Tears filled her eyes.
Carrie Ann ached for her daughter. She wanted to tell the sheriff to leave Bonnie alone, but she knew she couldn’t. Bonnie had to tell what she knew so they’d catch the person responsible for kidnapping her. “Go on,” she urged. “What happened next?”
“I don’t know. One minute I was alone, and the next someone grabbed me from behind. I fought. I kicked him, but he jabbed me in the arm with something sharp. It really stung. The next thing I knew, Mom and Declan were there.”
“Did you see his face?” the sheriff asked.
Bonnie shook her head. “I didn’t see anything.”
“Are you sure? You must have seen something.” He shifted forward on the chair. “Was your father there? Did Declan McAllister kidnap you?”
Bonnie shook her head and burrowed her head beneath the blankets. “I told you. I didn’t see anything.”
Carrie Ann jumped to her feet and faced Sheriff Atkins. “I think you’ve asked enough questions, Sheriff. It’s time you left.”
He hesitated, clearly wanting to press for more information, but he nodded and lumbered to his feet. “Okay, but she’ll have to give an official statement later.”
“I’ll bring her to the station when she’s ready.”
“He smelled sweet.” Bonnie’s small voice piped from under the blankets.
“Sweet, like what, Bonnie?” the sheriff asked, his gaze focused on the lump in the bed.
“Cherries, maybe?”
His gaze met Carrie Ann’s.
She shrugged.
“That’s good, Bonnie, real good. If you think of anything else, tell your mom, okay?” He nodded at Carrie Ann and walked out of the room.
She hurried after him, catching him in the hall. “She doesn’t remember much of what happened for a reason.”
“And why is that?”
“The doctor told me the drug she was injected with can cause loss of memory.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I don’t need her to ID the perp. We already know who the guilty person is. I hoped she’d give me the nails to pound in his coffin and seal the deal.”
“You’re wrong, you know.” She braced her hands on her hips and stepped into his space. “Declan didn’t do this.”
“I understand why you’d say he’s innocent, ma’am, him being your lover and all, and the father of your illegitimate daughter, but you’re the one who’s mistaken. We have McAllister right where we want him. I’ve already asked the DA’s office to go ahead with the conviction process.”
“But he’s innocent, don’t you understand? He didn’t do anything wrong.”
He studied her for a long minute and shook his head. “You’re a piece of work, lady. It amazes me a mother would choose her lover over her daughter’s safety.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but stopped. He wouldn’t listen. He was so certain Declan was guilty, he refused to consider any other suspects.
With a final sneer in her direction, he turned and stomped away.
She sagged against the wall, overwhelmed by all the events of the past few hours.
Bonnie called, and she blinked back her tears and returned to her daughter.
Chapter 28
The basement of the Cooper’s Ridge Sheriff’s Office contained two jail cells. Declan was the sole occupant. He paced the width of the small holding cell, counting each step. Ten. Turning, he walked the length of the cell. Eleven steps. Almost a perfect square. He was locked in a ten-by-eleven-foot box, a cage complete with a tiny, wire-meshed vent up by the ceiling blowing a steady stream of frigid air, and a row of floor-to-ceiling, thick, steel bars spanning the front. He bunched his hands, squeezing until they ached, anything to stop from smashing his fist into the graffiti-marked, pitted, cement wall.
As far as this damn town was concerned he was guilty as sin. Eighty years ago, they’d already be building the scaffold. Crowds would be gathering to watch the hanging. Hell, for all he knew, they were.
Last night was a blur. The squad car he’d been shoved into had raced back to town, lights flashing, siren blaring, squealing to a stop before the Sheriff’s Office. Two deputies had dragged him out of the back seat and escorted him up the steps into the station. They’d read him his Miranda rights, fingerprinted him, and taken his picture. He was marched downstairs to this cell and locked inside. And here he’d stay, they told him, until the paperwork to have him transferred to the county jail in Morganville was complete.
He stopped pacing and sat on the narrow, steel-framed bed bolted to the wall. Other than a rudimentary, stainless steel toilet and sink combination in the corner, the cot was the only place to sit. A plastic tray with a plastic plate piled with food and a plastic glass filled with water, sat on the cracked, cement floor. The food was cold, and if possible, looked even more unappetizing than when the deputy had delivered the tray earlier this morning. The thought of eating it, or any food at all, made him ill.
His mouth twisted at the acrid taste of bile filling his throat. For a brief moment last night after he and Carrie Ann had found Bonnie, he’d felt hope; hope for a future with Carrie Ann and their daughter; hope they could move past the anger and hurt and become a family. He pounded his fist into the thin, stained mattress, raising a fetid cloud of dust.
Last night, he’d demanded to see a lawyer, but so far no one had appeared. What did it matter? Sheriff Atkins had been smug as hell when he’d confronted him and read out the charges. Declan didn’t blame him. Hell, even he saw how that piece of Skye’s scarf in his pocket made him look. Why the hell hadn’t he turned it in earlier? He scowled. He knew why. As soon as Bonnie appeared, and he’d found out he was a father, all other thoughts vanished. He punched the mattress again.
At least she was safe. How could the sheriff think he’d kidnapped Bonnie, drugged her, and left her in the derelict barn? He’d never harm her. She was his daughter, for God’s sake.
He rubbed his aching eyes. He hadn’t slept last night. How could he when he’d spent the unending hours since they’d stuck him in here pacing the damn floor of his cell?
A door at the end of the short corridor outside his cell opened with an earsplitting squeal. Heavy footsteps approached.
Assuming it was the sheriff, or one of the deputies coming to gloat, Declan didn’t bother to lift his head.
“You’re in a bit of a mess.”
He jumped at the sound of Jessup Caruthers’ gravelly voice.
The private investigator stood in the narrow hallway outside Declan’s cell.
The fat deputy who’d given Declan his breakfast stood beside him, his hand resting on the gun holstered at his thick waist, as if he feared Declan would lunge through the bars and attack. When Declan didn’t move, the deputy withdrew a plastic key card from a chain hooked to his belt and inserted the card in the door lock. The heavy door slid open with a loud click and the grinding of metal on metal. “You have fifteen minutes,” he said.
Jessup stepped into the cell, his big body filling the cramped space.
The deputy closed and locked the door behind him, walked several steps down the corridor and leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his burly chest.
Jessup’s piercing gaze fixed on Declan. “You look like hell.”
“What are you doing here?” He couldn’t believe the guy was still around.
“You hired me to do a job. The job’s not done.” Jessup scanned the cell. “Nice digs.”
Declan s
norted.
“The sheriff thinks you killed Skye Lawrence.”
“What’s new? He’s thought the same thing for the past twelve years.”
“He also thinks you kidnapped Bonnie McAllister.”
“That’s what they’re saying.”
“Did you?”
Declan leaped to his feet, grabbed Caruthers by the collar and drew back his fist, ready to drive it deep into his face. His muscles bunched, but then he lowered his arm and released his grip. What the hell? This wasn’t Caruthers’ fault. He wiped a shaking hand over his mouth. “Get out of here,” he muttered. “Leave me the hell alone.”
Caruthers didn’t blink. “Feel better?”
Declan wiped the sweat beading his brow. “Look, I’m sorry.”
“You need to take it easy.”
All his anger and frustration exploded out of him. “Easy? They think I’m a beast who murders women and kidnaps children. How the hell can I take it easy?”
“You’re pissed. I get it. You have every right to be, but you have to calm down. Anger won’t get you out of here.”
Declan met his gaze. “Do you believe I did all those terrible things?”
Caruthers shook his head.
A wave of relief washed over him, and he sank onto the rumpled cot. “How do we prove I’m innocent?”
“I called your lawyer. He’s working on having you released on bail. I’m not going to lie to you. The local authorities don’t want to release you. They’re afraid you’re a danger to their fine community.”
“Last night, when they arrested me, the sheriff said he had solid evidence against me. Do you know what he has?”