The Truth About Jane Doe

by Linda Warren

  “Agreed Victoria will bring money to office. Leave so Emma can find.”

  That’s where the money came from, he told himself, then read on. There were several more entries about Victoria, followed by: “C.J. graduated with honors. Took her out to lunch. Should have asked Belle. Too risky. Can’t get her involved. She’s too perceptive. Would guess truth.”

  That was it. His dad didn’t want his mom too close to C.J. in case she recognized some familiar traits. Whose?

  “Saw Victoria today. Upset. Wants new will. Advised her to see Reed in Austin. Disinterested party. Less chance of breaking it.”

  Another will? Where was it? What was in it? Questions zipped through Matthew’s mind and he swiftly turned the page.

  “C.J. stopped by today. Breaks my heart every time I see her. Wish I could tell her, but I’m honor bound.”

  Tell her what, Dad? Matthew’s eye found another note:

  “Belle’s upset about C.J. again. Light of my life, try to understand. Can’t share things that are not mine to share. Maybe Matthew will call. Always perks her up.”

  He stared at his father’s writing, feeling the love his parents had shared. A love like that was so rare. Slowly he turned the page.

  “Victoria looks bad. Worried. Something wrong. Wish she’d talk to Martha and resolve things. So much anger between them. V. can’t go on like this.”

  Matthew kept reading. “Saw Victoria. Weak. Troubled.”

  Then: “Coberville lost its finest citizen. Sad day. Why did it have to end this way?

  “Victoria’s old will the only one at bank. Shocked. Where’s new will? Need to do some checking.”

  A later entry: “Townsends furious. Want will broken. Have to stall for time. Reed out of country.”

  So his father had been stalling for time. That was the reason he hadn’t mentioned the date on the old will, the reason he’d been dragging his heels. He knew there was another will.

  “Feel tired. Weak. Have to get will settled. Promised Victoria. Maybe I should call Matthew.”

  Another page: “So tired. Can’t breathe. Reed will be back soon.”

  Then: “Should call Matthew. He’s so busy. Maybe tomorrow.”

  Two weeks after the last entry his father died. Closing the book, Matthew sat gazing off into space, feeling a mountain of guilt. Why hadn’t his father called him? Was his life so busy that he didn’t have time for his parents? God, he should have been here. His father had needed him. Matthew sighed deeply. Guilt wasn’t going to help the situation. Anyway, he was here now—that was what mattered.

  Matthew fingered the pages of the book. What exactly was the secret his father and Victoria Townsend had shared? Was it about Martha Cober? Was Victoria trying to force her hand, make her take responsibility for her actions? Could that be the answer to the mystery that hung over this town?

  He read through the scribblings again, making sure he hadn’t missed anything. There was nothing here that could really help him, except the mention of a new will. That was crucial.

  Reed? A first or last name? He had to find out. He had to find the will. Maybe the reason someone was trying to kill C.J. had something to do with Victoria’s secret will.

  HE HAD JUST put the briefcase away when C.J. came in. As always she looked great in a green T-shirt and jeans. Her long hair was braided and hung down her back.

  “Hi.” She smiled and kissed him slowly.

  His body tightened with desire and he wondered if it was always going to be this way.

  “Hi,” he said, short of breath. “How’d it go with the sheriff?”

  “Got Harry out without paying a dime.”

  “How’d you manage that?”

  “Cashed in on some old lies.”

  “Somehow I knew you would,” he murmured, and bent his head for another kiss. But she noticed something on the desk and pulled away. She picked up the pad he’d been scribbling on while talking to Mrs. Jones.

  He tried to take it from her, but she jerked away, reading. God, why hadn’t he torn it up? He didn’t want her to read it until he had more facts. She’d been upset enough about the dead end with Joyce and Clare. He didn’t want to disillusion her again.

  Staring at him with huge eyes, she asked, “What does this mean, Matthew? ‘Martha Cober. Clare’s mother.’”

  He couldn’t lie to her. “Sit down and I’ll explain.”

  When she handed him the pad, he tore the sheet off, crumpled it into a ball and threw it in the trash. She took a chair and watched him with a perplexed expression on her face.

  He told her about Martha and Clare. “It’s critical to keep this information confidential. If it got back to Clare, it could hurt her deeply.”

  “I would never tell anyone,” C.J. said quietly. “But—” she frowned, her gaze holding his “—you wrote something else. ‘Fifty years old. Menopause. C.J.’ What does that mean?”

  “Nothing,” he said immediately. “Just rambling. Doesn’t mean a thing.”

  “I think it does.”

  “Just leave it, C.J.”

  “No.” She stood up, her eyes narrowed. “You think Martha Cober could be my mother, too. Don’t you?”

  He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

  “You think she got pregnant during menopause, and this time her sister wouldn’t help her out, so she left the baby on Pete and Maggie’s doorstep.”

  “C.J., stop this! I was doodling my thoughts and you should never have seen that.”

  “But it makes sense.” Her eyes grew troubled. “That’s why Mrs. Townsend left me the land and the money. Because she knew her sister would never acknowledge me, and as a Cober I had a right to at least something. I let her down.” Her voice deepened with anguish. “I gave it all back. Dear God, how could I have been so foolish? I wasn’t a Townsend, but a Cober.”

  He caught her by the forearms. “C.J., listen to me. I want you to put this out of your head. We have no proof—it’s all just guesses. The woman was in her fifties, for God’s sake, remember that.”

  “I hope she’s not my mother,” C.J. said weakly. “I know it’s terrible to say that, but Martha Cober makes me uneasy. She looks at me with such cold eyes and she never seems to see me. She looks right through me. It’s eerie.”

  “Try not to think about her.” Matthew softened his tone. “It’s very unlikely she’s your mother.”

  “Maybe,” she mumbled, then asked, “What do we do now?”

  “Gather more information. Get some facts, then—”

  “You and your facts.” She rolled her eyes. “I want to do something. I want to—”

  His lips curved into a smile.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  “Because you’re the most hardheaded impulsive wonderful woman.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”

  His gaze was warm. “It is.”

  When he looked at her like that, she couldn’t think. She could only feel—delicious sensual feelings.

  She swallowed and asked, “So how do we get those facts?”

  “I’ve got to think about our next move.”

  “Fine. I’ll be back later.” She turned toward the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “My Camaro’s still at the sheriff’s office where Beal left it. Since I got my truck back, I haven’t needed it. I told the sheriff I’d drive it home, then we promised Mr. McIntosh we’d haul his calves to the auction.”

  “I don’t think it’s wise to be out so much.”

  “Pete and Harry are always with me. So stop worrying.” She blew him a kiss and headed for the door.

  “C.J.”

  “Yes?” She looked back.

  “Try not to think about Martha Cober.”

  “I’ll try, but it won’t be easy.”

  Matthew went back to his desk and sat down, cursing himself. How could he have been so careless? He tended to scribble notes, just like his father, but he always tore them up or put them away. He didn’t li
ke C.J. being upset, and he knew his feelings for her went deep—very deep. She consumed his heart, his body, his soul, and New York seemed a lifetime away.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE ODDS OF MARTHA COBER being C.J.’s mother were very slim, he knew. But he had to get to work finding proof if he wanted to relieve C.J. of her fears. Martha’s medical history was the place to start, and Dr. Haslow could help him with that. He reached for the phone, only to discover that Doc was on a house call. Damn.

  To allay his frustration he tried to remember all he knew about Martha Cober. There wasn’t much. She was Victoria Townsend’s sister and she stayed pretty much in the background.

  Where could he learn more? Just as the question crossed his mind, his mother walked into the office. He grinned. He had the best source right here, right now. His mother had grown up with the Cober sisters.

  He got up and walked around the desk to kiss her cheek. “Just the person I want to see. You can help me with something.”

  “Really?” Her eyes were suspicious. “I came over to see if I could get you to have lunch with me.”

  Giving her another kiss, he went back to his desk. “Not today, Mom. I’m too busy.”

  She sat down, smoothing her dress over her knees. Her salt-and-pepper hair was naturally curly and she wore it in a short neat style. Matthew thought how young she looked. In her seventies, she looked much the same as she had when he was a boy.

  “You’re working very hard to find C.J.’s parents,” she commented.

  “It’s the only way I can think of to free her from this nightmare.”

  “I get the feeling it’s more than that….” The words hung between them and he knew she was asking him a question, but it was a question he wasn’t ready to answer. He couldn’t help contrasting the difference in her attitude toward C.J. now with that earlier reaction. He thought of showing her the book, but felt it wasn’t the right time.

  “Don’t play matchmaker, Mom,” was all he said.

  “I don’t think I have to,” she answered smugly.

  Matthew didn’t want to discuss this right now. “I need your help,” he said urgently.

  “So you mentioned.” Her eyes narrowed. “With what?”

  “Martha Cober. Tell me everything you know about her.”

  “Martha Cober?” She frowned. “Why in the world would you want to know about Martha?”

  “In the search for C.J.’s parents, everything leads back to the Townsends. I’m checking out every one of them, but I know very little about Martha. Since you went to school with her, I’m sure you know something about her personality, her childhood, her life.”

  A puzzled expression settled on her face. “I’ll tell you all I know, but for the life of me I can’t imagine what Martha has to do with C.J.’s parents.”

  “I’m just looking for clues,” he told her.

  “Well, let’s see,” she started thoughtfully. “Martha is the oldest of William Cober’s three children. Martha and Will, Jr., were from his first marriage.”

  “William Cober was married twice?” he asked, surprised. When he’d been at the ranch, he had seen a painting of only one wife. “I’ve never heard that before.”

  “It was a short marriage. His first wife died when Will, Jr., was about a month old. Within six months William Cober had remarried, and Victoria was born nine months later.”

  “What happened to his second wife?”

  “She died giving birth to their next child. A little boy. He died, too.”

  “Really,” Matthew murmured. “I don’t believe there’s a painting of her at the ranch.”

  “I’ve never seen a picture of her. But they say when his first wife died, he didn’t shed a tear, but when his second wife died, he cried like a baby.”

  Matthew realized they were getting offtrack and started to veer the conversation back to Martha, but his mother began speaking again. “When Will, Jr., was killed at twenty-one in a riding accident, old Will took to his bed. No one could comfort him, not even Victoria, the child he worshiped. Martha took over the running of the estate. She made a lot of bad business decisions with the Cober newspapers and banks. The Cober empire was crumbling fast. The impending demise of the Cober estate brought old Will out of his bed. He took over the reins again, and with Victoria’s help he made the Cober empire what it is today.”

  “I don’t remember much about this.”

  “It’s not common knowledge, but Matt and I were close to Victoria and she shared a lot of her problems.”

  “What happened next?”

  She paused a moment, then continued, “Martha hated the thought of her younger sister succeeding where she’d failed. She took to drinking and gambling. She spent a lot of time in Vegas and Atlantic City. She’d stay away for months at a time, and when she came home, she’d always have some man in tow, trying to impress her father. That’s how John Townsend came to be part of the Cober family. Martha brought him home one weekend, but the moment he set eyes on Victoria, he never looked at Martha again.”

  “John Townsend was Martha’s boyfriend?”

  “Yes, and Martha never forgave Victoria for taking him from her. After Victoria and John were married, Martha left home and didn’t come back until old Will died, but she got a big shock at the reading of the will. Victoria was named executor and had control over everything. Even Will, Jr.’s share was left to Victoria. Martha was so furious she vowed never to come back to Coberville.”

  “But she did come back.”

  “With her tail tucked between her legs, begging for Victoria’s help. They say her gambling debts were in the millions and she was in a lot of trouble. Victoria agreed to pay off her debts if Martha signed over her interest in the Cober estate. Martha did, and Victoria let her live at Seven Trees. Ever since, Martha’s been very docile, puttering in her flower garden and taking care of her horses.”

  “She never married or had children?”

  “No, John Townsend was the love of her life. She’s happy now that she can take care of him in his old age.”

  “Did she ever date anyone from Coberville?”

  “No, the men in Coberville were never good enough for Martha.”

  “Think, Mom. Even in her fifties, did you ever see her with anyone?”

  Belle shook her head. “No. After Clare was born, Martha’s life centered on her. Since Victoria was sick so much, Martha practically raised her. She worships that girl, though she smothers and dominates her at times.”

  Matthew had heard the story about Victoria being ill before, but no one had ever said from what. “What was wrong with Victoria Townsend?”

  Belle shrugged. “Don’t really know. I guess having Clare drained her of all her strength. I went to see her one time, and she was so weak she couldn’t get out of bed. She had bouts of severe stomach pains and numbness in her hands and feet. The doctors never could figure it out. She’d be real sick for a while, then suddenly she’d get better. The last bout finally killed her. I shouldn’t say that,” Belle corrected herself. “She was ill, but she managed to get out of bed during the night and fall down the stairs.”

  “Victoria Townsend died from falling down the stairs?”

  “Yes. No one ever knew what she was doing out of bed at that hour.”

  “Was there an autopsy?”

  She frowned. “An autopsy? Whatever for?”

  “To find out why she died!”

  She glanced sharply at him. “You don’t have to shout, Matthew.”

  “Sorry, Mom,” he said immediately. “This is all so frustrating. Why wouldn’t the Townsends want to know what was wrong with their mother?”

  “After her death I suppose they just wanted to let her rest in peace. After all, the doctors were never able to diagnose her problem.”

  “Maybe,” he murmured, his head filled with questions.

  “How did Victoria and Martha get along?”

  “Like cats and dogs. They argued all the time. Martha was always jealous of
Victoria. That’s why I’ve never been able to figure out why Martha loves Clare so much. But human nature is a funny thing.”

  “It sure is,” he mused, knowing exactly why Martha loved Clare. He wondered if he’d ever manage to untangle the Townsends’ lies and deceptions.

  SHERIFF WATTS PULLED UP behind the red sports car that had been driven into the ditch. He got out, drew his gun from the holster and motioned his deputy to go around to the other side. Slowly he walked to the driver’s door and peered through the shattered window. He quickly jerked back, taking several gulps of air.

  “What is it, Sheriff?” the deputy called.

  He took another deep breath and shoved his gun back in the holster. “She’s dead. Half her face is blown off. Call an ambulance and get a crew out here to check for evidence. This is clearly a homicide.”

  “A homicide,” the deputy echoed in dismay. “We haven’t had a homicide in Coberville for ages.”

  “I know,” Watts replied, walking back to his car.

  “What the hell is happening here? Who would want to kill that beautiful young woman? Such a waste. Now I have to notify the next of kin. I don’t even know who that is. And I have to call Matthew Sloan. He’s not going to like this one little bit.”

  “SHERIFF WATTS IS on the phone. Says it’s important,” reported Miss Emma through the intercom.

  Matthew grabbed the receiver. “Yes, Sheriff? Is something wrong?”

  “You could say that,” the sheriff answered. “I got a call a little while ago about a dead woman in a red sports car on Fulton Road.”

  Matthew stopped breathing and pain ripped through his chest. Oh, God, C.J.! She was driving her sports car home.

  “Matthew, are you there?”

  He swallowed the constriction in his throat, realizing the sheriff was still talking. “Yes, I’m here.”

  “I naturally thought of C.J. She left my office in her red sports car, but when I got to the scene, I found the woman was Stephanie Cox.”

  Matthew took a couple of deep breaths. “Stephanie Cox? The woman was Stephanie Cox?”