The Return of Connor Mansfield

by Beth Cornelison

  Pulling herself off the floor of the backseat, she glanced through the car window toward her front door. She hadn’t heard any noise from the house in several minutes. Did she dare go back inside? Why hadn’t Marshal Jones come out to get her? What if the intruder had killed Marshal Jones and escaped out the back of the house?

  Wiping her palms on her pants, Darby unlocked the car door and headed back to the house. She paused at the front door, peering inside and calling, “Marshal Jones?”

  She found a pair of garden shoes by the door and jammed them on her feet. If she had to flee the house again, she didn’t want to do it barefooted. “Marshal Jones?”

  She heard the low drone of a male voice in conversation and hesitated only a moment before creeping cautiously back down the hall toward her bedroom and peering inside. Marshal Jones, a phone to his ear, stood over the still form of the man who’d fired at her. A long, hideous streak of blood smeared the wall behind where the gunman had stood. Acid collected in her gut as she crept into the room and found that a red puddle was soaking into her carpet beneath the dead man’s head. She gasped and choked back the surge of bile that rose in her throat.

  Spinning to face her, Marshal Jones scowled. “What are you doing in here? I told you to get out of the house.”

  “I did get out. But...I came back,” she said numbly, stating the obvious.

  “Let me call you back. Meanwhile, work on getting a team out here.” Jones disconnected his call and narrowed his eyes on her. “You shouldn’t be in here.” He stalked toward her, taking her arm and steering her out to the hall.

  “It’s my house,” she said inanely, simply because she was getting sick of being ordered about, literally pushed around. “Was that the police you were talking to?”

  “No. It was the marshals’ office in Shreveport.” He hustled her into the kitchen and pulled a chair out from the table. “I don’t want the cops here yet.”

  She pulled her arm free of his grip and refused to sit. “Why not?”

  “I want our people to view the scene and start working on an ID of the guy before some rookie local uniform contaminates the scene.”

  “You don’t think very highly of the Lagniappe PD.”

  Jones gave a small shrug. “Nothing against your locals, per se. Let’s just say I’ve seen it happen before. Too often.” He gave her a considering glance. “I don’t care whether you sit or not, but stay out of the bedroom. It’s a crime scene.” He pulled his phone back out and divided his attention between her and dialing. “I need to let Raleigh know what happened and have him get Sam out of—”

  “No!” She grabbed his wrist when he would have lifted the phone to his ear.

  “Pardon?” He arched an ebony eyebrow.

  “Connor needs to stay with Savannah. If the doctor won’t let me be there, she needs him with her.”

  He gave her an impatient sigh and twisted his mouth as if to say she was being ridiculous. “She has other members of your family. Not to mention the staff at the hospital.”

  “But...” She knew what he’d said was true, but somehow pulling Connor away from the hospital when Savannah was undergoing the radical chemo seemed wrong. Frightening. “What purpose does it serve to pull Connor away from the hospital?”

  Jones opened his mouth to answer, then closed it with a sigh, even as Raleigh’s voice came on the line through his phone. Though turning his attention to the call, Jones kept his gaze on Darby. He explained to Raleigh what had transpired, then listened a minute and said, “No. Don’t tell him yet. She’s unharmed, and he doesn’t need to be worried about this mess while his little girl’s in treatment.”

  Darby released the breath she’d been holding and sank onto the chair Jones had pulled out earlier, suddenly too tired to stand.

  “I’ll arrange for more men to be sent to the hospital to back you up. As a precaution.” Jones rubbed the back of his neck as he listened to Raleigh. “I agree. I’ll ask the Shreveport office to start working on it.” He disconnected without further comment and shot a glance at her. “Happy?”

  “Hardly. A man just shot at me, and my daughter is in the hospital.” She pulled her shoulders back. “But I do appreciate your concessions so that Connor can stay at the hospital and not be distracted by this mess until later.”

  “Raleigh and I want to move Sam—”

  “Connor,” she corrected.

  “To a safe house,” he continued, ignoring her. “Until our people find a suitable property, be prepared for changes around here. More safety measures.”

  She gritted her back teeth. As much as she appreciated the protection the marshals were providing—Jones probably saved her life today—the thought of more changes, more disruption to her life, more being told what to do, chafed.

  Jones’s phone trilled, and he took the call as he headed out of the kitchen. Darby stared at the table, stewing for several minutes before getting up to fix herself a glass of iced tea. She needed something to calm her nerves and soothe her throat, and it was too early in the day for liquor. Especially if she wanted to put her own plan into action. She only debated her options for a minute or two. The need to find some resolution to the danger hanging over her family compelled her to act. The need to take charge of her life, to be proactive rather than a pawn, sharpened her focus to a fine point. She had to be the one calling the shots in some area of her life, take back some control.

  Ever since her father left her family, she’d felt pushed aside, overlooked, ignored. Learning that Connor had chosen WitSec without consulting her had only deepened that sense. Shoving down the twinge of fear and doubt that tickled her brain, Darby channeled the determination to take the initiative, be on offense rather than reacting to life as it swung at her.

  Pulling her smartphone from her purse, she did a search for the address of the prison where William Gale was serving his sentence. She put the address in a GPS mapping application and had driving directions within seconds. William Gale was sitting in a cell only ninety minutes from Lagniappe. She could be there and back before dinner time.

  While Jones stood over the intruder’s body and talked to his office, Darby slipped out to her car and headed south.

  * * *

  Less than two hours later, Darby pulled through the main gates at the federal prison and received her visitor’s pass. Signs directed her to the front desk, where she passed through security checks and signed in on the guest log. The guard at the front desk made a call to have William Gale brought up to the visitors’ room and buzzed open the door to the back halls.

  “This way,” the uniformed man said, motioning to her. “Visiting hours are almost over. You’ll have about twenty minutes.”

  She nodded, praying that would be enough time to convince William Gale to call off his goons. Pressing a hand to her swirling stomach, Darby followed the prison guard to the visitors’ room, trying to project the confidence and courage that had brought her here. While meeting with the head of the crime family with a bounty on Connor’s head, she knew showing her fear would be the kiss of death. Maybe coming to see William Gale was a mistake. Should she turn around now and forget her plan? Was she just poking a hornet’s nest by being here?

  Darby swallowed the doubts. She had to do this. She had to take the initiative if she wanted to turn her life around. She refused to be pushed aside, victimized or have her life dictated to her again. She wanted the power to decide her fate, to make her life what she wanted.

  “Over there,” the guard said. He pointed to an empty metal chair in a row of seats facing a thick, transparent partition. Thin privacy walls separated the long table into visiting stations without truly affording privacy to the inmates or their guests.

  Darby took a seat, clutching her purse in her lap and tugging on her blouse to adjust her collar while she waited.

  She sat straighter in the h
ard chair when, with a metallic clang, the door to the cell block opened and a guard ushered an older man in a bright orange jumpsuit into the room. The guard motioned to the station where she sat, and William Gale furrowed his brow in confusion. He said something to the attendant, and the guard nodded. Shrugging, William Gale sauntered over and sat in the chair opposite Darby.

  Lifting her chin, Darby flashed a smile, even as her gut roiled with a greasy disgust for the man responsible for trying to kill Connor. “Hello, Mr. Gale.”

  He jerked a suspicious nod. “Have we met? I’d like to think I’d remember a pretty gal like you, but I’m afraid I can’t place you.”

  “No, sir,” she said almost choking on the courtesy title. But the man was old enough to be her father, and some habits were ingrained. “We haven’t met. My name is Darby Kent.” She took a deep breath for courage. “Five years ago, when you were convicted, I was engaged to Connor Mansfield.”

  She knew the instant the name registered, because William’s eyes grew flinty and his mouth firmed. Just as quickly, though, he schooled his features. His expression became almost placid, but a tiny tic in his jaw told Darby he was calculating, sizing her up, mentally reviewing his grievances against Connor. When he spoke, his words startled her.

  “I understand Connor Mansfield was killed in an unfortunate accident soon after my trial ended.” He inclined his head slightly. “My condolences, Ms. Kent. While I don’t grieve the lost of Mr. Mansfield, seeing as he was largely responsible for putting me here—” he raised a hand to indicate the prison “—I’m not unsympathetic to your pain.”

  Darby blinked, startled as much by the man’s condolences as by the notion that William Gale could be unaware that Connor was still alive. Had his sons not informed him of Connor’s return from the dead? Was it possible the Gale brothers didn’t know Connor was back in town? Unlikely, considering the dead man in her bedroom. She worked hard to school her face, not give away anything before she decided how to proceed. “Thank you.”

  William leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. His eyes were a cool gray, his gaze keen and cunning. “So what brings you here today, Ms. Kent? I can’t imagine this is a social call.”

  For the briefest moment, Darby considered lying, telling him she was there about some bogus legal matter. A little warning bell inside her stanched that impulse like a cigarette under a boot heel. If William Gale was playing her, testing her to see if she’d confess that Connor was alive, her honesty might win points with him. If he didn’t know the truth, perhaps her candor would still give her credence with the man. Either way, being caught in a lie wouldn’t go over well down the road, she felt sure. She’d come to negotiate a cease-fire, and that’s what she would do. Be bold. Be proactive. Take your life back.

  “Mr. Gale, the thing is...” She filled her lungs, squared her shoulders and bolstered her bravado. “Connor is still alive.”

  One graying eyebrow lifted, but he showed no other reaction to the news.

  “I only learned the truth in the past several days myself. I truly believed my fiancé was dead.” She held her breath for a moment, watching him, but he remained still, stoic. “Connor faked his death because he believed your sons had a contract out on him. Whether by your authority or not, I don’t know.”

  She hesitated, her heartbeat thundering so loudly in her ears, she could barely hear herself speaking. Surreptitiously, she wiped her hands on the legs of her pants. “He left WitSec and came back to town because...we have a daughter together. A daughter he only recently learned of.”

  He nodded once. “Savannah.”

  A chill rippled through her, and she could do nothing to hide her shock and dismay. “Y-you know about her...know her name?”

  He flashed an indulgent smile. “You’re surprised? Ms. Kent, in my business, it’s prudent to know all you can about your enemies.”

  “Enemies.” She swallowed hard as bile rose in her throat. “Isn’t that term a bit harsh?”

  Again he arched his eyebrow. “What term would you use for a man who turns his back on seven years of gainful employment to disclose confidential company files and send you to prison?”

  His calm demeanor, his pale-eyed stare were somehow more menacing to her than if he’d been ranting in her face and frothing at the mouth. She sat on her hands to stop them from shaking. “Connor did what he felt was right. He would have been complicit if he said nothing. It wasn’t personal.”

  William sat forward now, a bitter smile twisting his mouth. “And yet it felt so very personal to me, seeing as how his testimony stabbed me in the back and sent me here.”

  “I...I only meant—”

  “Why are you here, Ms. Kent?” Though a certain amicability had returned to his tone, she knew better than to be fooled into believing he was being polite for more than the benefit of the guards watching them.

  “Are you aware that my daughter—Connor’s daughter—is ill?”

  The older man’s forehead creased as if this were news to him.

  “Connor came back,” she continued, “despite knowing your family wanted him dead, hoping to save our daughter’s life. He’ll be donating his bone marrow soon for a transplant that we hope will put Savannah’s cancer in remission.”

  “And you’re telling me this because...?”

  “Mr. Gale, Connor has already missed out on almost four years of Savannah’s life and has been away from his family even longer.”

  “As have I, Ms. Kent. I have a family as well, and because of Mr. Mansfield’s testimony, I will miss many more years of birthdays, Christmases and new babies. What is your point?”

  She sighed. “Could you please lift the contract on Connor? Call off your men, and let Connor stay in Lagniappe with his daughter without fear of being gunned down or run off the road by one of your hit men?”

  An amused smile lit William Gale’s face without reaching his eyes. “Call off my men?”

  Darby inhaled and released a tremulous breath. “Yes, sir. I’m not above begging, if that’s what it takes.”

  “Ms. Kent, does Mr. Mansfield know you are here? Did he send you?”

  She sat straighter. “No.”

  “What do you think he’d say if he knew you were here, talking to me?”

  Darby sighed. “He wouldn’t like it. I’m sure he’ll be furious when he finds out. But I felt I had to do something. I had to at least try to convince you to cancel the contract on his life.”

  He gave her a long, silent stare for several unnerving seconds. “I’m unaware of any threat to Mr. Mansfield’s life, especially one from my family. Despite what Connor Mansfield led the jury to believe with his lies, my family and I are not criminals. Mr. Mansfield has nothing to worry about from me or my sons.”

  She opened her mouth to counter his assertions, but snapped it shut again. Did she really think he’d own up to the contract with guards in earshot? With security cameras recording their visit?

  She hesitated, deciding how to approach the issue. “Okay, let’s put it this way—will you promise me no harm will come to Connor if he stays in town with his family?”

  William Gale spread his hands and gave her a sly grin. “I’m not God, Ms. Kent. I can’t stop bad things from happening to Mr. Mansfield, even if I wanted to.”

  She wet her lips, noticing that the guards were sending other inmates back to lock up. Her time was almost up. “Mr. Gale, you’re still the head of your family. Surely you have the power, the influence with your sons to do this?” When he continued to stare at her coolly, she added, “If not for my sake or Connor’s, would you do it for Savannah’s sake? She’s just a sick little girl. She needs her father. Please, don’t take Connor from Savannah.”

  William shifted his gaze to the barred window where the Louisiana sun beat down, baking the earth without mercy, then faced her again.
“That was a very moving speech, Ms. Kent. But I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time and breath coming here. I have no knowledge of any contract out on Mr. Mansfield, and I have no control over whatever fate has in store for him.”

  She curled her fingernails into her palms in frustration. “But if you’d just speak to your family about—”

  He stood, and the guard stepped over to him. “Goodbye, Ms. Kent. I’ll say a prayer for your daughter tonight if you’d like.”

  “I...” His offer rattled her, just as she was sure it was meant to.

  He flashed a smug grin as the guard led him away, toward the cell block.

  “Mr. Gale, please! If you’d just—”

  The door slammed shut with an ominous clang, signaling a close to her best chance of saving Connor from the Gales’ threat. As she collected her purse and headed out of the prison, she couldn’t help wondering if, instead of helping, her candor with the Gale patriarch had opened a Pandora’s box of new trouble for her family.

  * * *

  “You did what?” Connor shouted, aghast at Darby’s confession. When Marshal Jones reported that she’d disappeared for long hours that afternoon, he’d been out of his mind with worry. But had he known where she was, what she’d been up to, Connor would have been apoplectic. Especially given the dead man in her bedroom and the mounting evidence the guy had worked for the Gales.

  “I thought it was worth a try,” she returned, meeting his fury with an unapologetic calm and confidence. “I couldn’t sit back and do nothing when I had strangers invading my house and trying to shoot me and the people I love.”

  If she’d been confronting anyone other than a member of the Gale family, Connor would be proud of her gumption and moxie. But she’d gone to see William freaking Gale himself. He could only pray she hadn’t woken a sleeping giant.

  “Darby, the Gales are my problem. They want me. This isn’t your battle to fight—”