“Depends on how you define ‘in touch.’ I text her. She doesn’t answer.”
“How long has it been since she answered?”
“Since the night I asked her to marry me. More than a month ago.”
“You think she’s holding out, hoping you’ll miss her enough to come home?”
“Nope. She was seeing someone else before I even decided I was for sure coming to Shelter Valley.”
“You don’t sound broken up about that.”
“What’s the point? If she wants someone else, she wants someone else. Not her fault. And there’s not anything I can do to stop it, either.”
“Maybe if you told her you loved her...”
“Then I wouldn’t be being me, and she’d know that, too.”
“But you still text her.”
“It’s the right thing to do.”
“Why?”
“Because I told her that I wasn’t going to desert her.”
She nodded and shifted against the door as though she was only halfway in the conversation. As though, at any minute, she could step back inside, close the door and sever their connection. “I’m just trying to understand,” she said. “You propose. The woman not only turns you down, she breaks up with you. She’s seeing someone else. And you’re still planning to be available to her because you told her you wouldn’t desert her. Am I right so far?”
“Pretty much.”
“Most guys I’ve known would have moved on.”
“I’m moving on.”
“So the not deserting her...that’s as in friends? You’re going to stay friends with her?”
She was asking questions he didn’t have answers for. Questions he hadn’t asked himself. “Ella and I... We’ve been a couple for a long time.” He had no idea why he was answering her. Or even thinking about the question. “I don’t think of myself as free. At the same time, I don’t find it wrong that she’s seeing someone else. I don’t expect her to remain true to me. She told me point-blank that she wasn’t going to. She doesn’t just want to get married, she wants to have babies right away.”
“And you don’t?” There was no judgment in her tone.
“Not right now, I don’t. I can’t speak to the future. I just don’t know.”
“You’ve got a lot on your plate. With school. Your grandmother. Work...”
What was it with the women in his life always trying to do his thinking for him?
“Life in Shelter Valley is temporary. My time here is limited. I won’t take on fatherhood until I’m in a position to be a father.”
Some things he just didn’t question.
* * *
ADDY WAS ON her way home from the store Friday afternoon when she saw the red lights in her rearview mirror. And recognized the man driving the police cruiser behind her. Pulling to the side of the road, she waited.
“At least you didn’t use the siren,” she greeted as Greg Richards approached her car.
“I didn’t stop you on your own street, either,” the forty-seven-year-old sheriff said, coming up to her door with his pad in hand.
“I appreciate that, but you could have just called my prepaid cell.”
“I didn’t want to take a chance that you’d be with someone who might ask who’d called. Or overhear our conversation. I’d rather we appear to be complete strangers until we know who’s behind the threats. I don’t want to give anyone any cause to suspect you’re anything but what you say you are.”
The last time she’d seen the sheriff, when he and Will had met her at her Phoenix hotel right after she’d arrived from Denver, he’d been driving a ten-year-old Ford pickup and wearing jeans and a polo shirt.
“Do you really think someone is out to hurt Will?” she asked. “Maybe this was just a random act from a coward who was unhappy with a grade or something.” A drastic way to express disappointment, to be sure, but it would let her off the hook so she could get the hell out of Dodge.
“We’ve had another letter. That’s why I stopped you. I wanted you to know.” With a uniformed arm on the top of her opened window, he leaned in toward her, and the intensity in his green-eyed gaze made her aware of the seriousness of the situation.
“It was left under the door of Will’s office again. Same type of envelope. Ordinary copy paper from a common ink jet printer. It warned Will that he should be making plans to get a sum of money together.”
A car passed. And then another. She’d been on her way home from the big-box store outside of town and hadn’t yet reached city limits so they were surrounded by open desert, devoid of curious onlookers.
“Weren’t the first threats against Will and Montford?” They’d shown her the letters. She didn’t have copies. Her job didn’t require it and she didn’t want this initial review tainted with too many suppositions. Didn’t want to go back to the letters, look for clues there. She had to keep her mind open to every possibility so she didn’t overlook some instance, occurrence or behavior that could open Will up to a lawsuit because she’d been focusing somewhere else.
“They were vague, but yes, the implications included Montford. And this one could, too. It doesn’t say how much money. Or from where.”
“What does Will think?”
“His first instinct was to resign immediately rather than put the school in jeopardy.”
Addy shook her head. “That’s wrong on so many levels. You can’t let a bully win, just in principle.” Unless Will was guilty of the charges. “Second, his resignation in no way stops the perpetrator from suing him personally or going after the school if he or she really believes they have a case. In fact, his resignation would most likely make him look more guilty in the eyes of the court or a jury.”
“Which is what I told him.”
“Until formal charges are brought there’s nothing he can do but continue on with his daily activities as though nothing is wrong. The less guilty he acts, the less confident his accuser will be. And the less chance they’ll have some questionable behavior to report as evidence against him in court.”
Nodding, Greg said, “I’ll pass that on to him.”
“And in the meantime, I keep looking. The first thing to do after receiving a hint of a threat is to get legal counsel. He’s done that, albeit unofficially. The most we can do at this point is to be prepared.”
“And find whoever the hell is behind this. That’s my job.”
“That, too. Because whoever this is, is now a criminal,” Addy said. “It’s officially become blackmail since the mention of money is actually attached to the threat.”
“I don’t expect it to end there, do you?”
Addy was naturally mistrusting. She knew that. It made her good at her job—kept her mind open to assessing both sides, always. She had to be able to jump into her opponent’s mind-set if she was going to beat him.
And to see the facts clearly in order to ascertain if her client was guilty. She could only defend those she truly believed were innocent.
“Adrianna?” The sheriff shifted his weight on the edge of her car as a truck drove by, showering them with a burst of dusty air.
“If whoever is behind this has no real basis for the threats,” he continued, “if Will is completely innocent, then I would expect the ultimate goal here would be money. It’s no secret the Parsonses are a wealthy family.”
“And Will’s stellar reputation can work against him. Anyone who knows him knows that he’d sacrifice himself, or pay any price, to protect t
hose he loves. Those he considers his own. He considers every single student at Montford one of his own.”
“My theory is that whoever is behind this knows Will personally, or at least has personal knowledge of him. This probably isn’t someone from somewhere else who tried to get into Montford and didn’t make it and was left with sour grapes.”
“I agree, in theory. At this point the vendetta appears to be personal as opposed to something being enacted by a stranger just looking for a way in to the Parsons fortune. I’m assuming there were no fingerprints on the third letter, either?”
“One. It wasn’t in any database.”
Arizona’s vibrant afternoon sun was behind them. Addy longed for its warmth.
“Have you looked into the possibility that someone is vying for Will’s job? Is there someone who would be next in line? Someone with a grudge who would use Will’s goodness against him to get him to step down, leaving an opening for his job?”
“We’ve talked about that. I’ve done some quiet checking. We can’t rule anything out at this point, but I’m not finding any likely candidates to fit that scenario.”
“So the most obvious conclusions are that either someone is out for money...or Will did something that someone really believes was wrong, and this person is looking for justice in the form of monetary compensation.”
“Wouldn’t you think, if there was some real incident or incidents attached to this that the letter writer would give some indication as to the actual alleged wrongdoing?”
“Possibly. Unless whoever we’re dealing with has more than a layperson’s knowledge of the law. He’s being very careful not to reveal his evidence, thus not allowing Will to build any kind of defense against the charges, either physically or emotionally. It’s the strategy I would recommend, though not for purposes of blackmail, of course. If this guy is really intending to press charges, the less he says at this point, the better. Of course, if he’s intending to press charges, he’s making a grave error with this blackmail attempt.”
“We knew we were dealing with someone making a grave error the moment the first letter arrived,” Greg said, straightening. A black town car passed and he watched it drive all the way down the road.
“You know them?” Addy asked.
“No. Which is why I’m watching them.” Greg grinned. “I want to know when I’ve got a stranger in town.”
“Because of the threats against Will?”
“Because I take my job to protect the people of Shelter Valley very seriously. Don’t get me wrong, we welcome strangers. With open arms and open doors. Ask my wife, Beth, about that. Or any number of our other citizens. We just like to know who’s in our midst.”
Had Greg known the fire marshal who’d covered up her dad’s hideous crime? Not that making what he’d done public would have brought any justice. James Keller had died in the fire. There’d been no one to arrest for arson.
Only a little girl’s life to try to preserve.
But the exposure of an insurance settlement erroneously paid could create a mess she didn’t need. She hadn’t had any culpability in the situation, but she’d benefited from it.
Greg watched another car go by and turned to wave. The sheriff had probably still been in high school when her house burned down.
What would any of them, the Parsons family included, think of her if they knew the truth? That she was the daughter of a murderer? Of a man so unstable he’d lost all sight of right and wrong.
Would they understand and agree with the fire marshal who’d taken fate into his hands for the greater good?
Would they be willing to bury wrongdoing if it served their purpose?
“What do you know about Tory Evans?” Addy couldn’t let Greg Richards walk away without expressing her concerns. They’d hired her to do a job. She had to do it. She hoped, for Will’s sake, that the sheriff knew more than she did about the Evans situation.
Knew something that would protect Will if his blackmailer was tied to that situation.
“Tory?” Greg Richards stood with his hands on his hips, facing her. “Why do you ask?”
“Because she taught classes under an assumed identity, putting Montford in jeopardy of lawsuit, at the very least, and as far as I can see, no charges were ever pressed.”
“First, Tory is a friend. A good friend who’s had a tough life and given more to Shelter Valley than the town will ever be able to give back. Anytime anyone needs anything, Tory is quietly there, providing. Food, clothing, a helping hand...”
“I’m not out to get Tory, Sheriff,” Addy interrupted quietly. “I’m looking for possible lawsuit opportunities against Will Parsons. I read the article that was published in the newspaper regarding Tory’s...indiscretion. I’m asking you if there was more to it than what was written in that article.”
“Tory’s mother died when she was ten, leaving the girls in the custody of their stepfather. I can’t speak to all of the man’s sins, nor would I speak of Tory, period, but because you’ve been given access to records, I will tell you that Tory’s stepfather married her off at seventeen to a man with connections. Ties to the underworld. Anytime she tried to leave him, anyone she associated with was in danger. She hid her true identity more to protect those around her than to protect herself. And she didn’t steal an identity so much as accept the one given to her when she woke up in the hospital after the accident.”
“Mitigating circumstances, I understand. A grand jury might not have charged her, a jury probably wouldn’t have convicted her. I’m not questioning that. I’m questioning Will’s culpability, or apparent culpability, in the situation. As far as I can tell, he didn’t press charges or sanction her in any way. Tory is married to a Montford. She’s a close friend of Becca’s. That doesn’t look good. It looks like he played favorites.”
“She’d only been in town four months when Will made the decision not to press charges against her. And no one knew that Ben Sanders was a Montford back then. Sam Montford, his cousin, was long gone and Sam’s parents, the only other living Montfords, were in Europe for an extended stay. None of the Montfords or Sanders family had even met.”
That would help if Will were ever taken to court on discrimination charges. Help, but not necessarily exonerate him.
“Will weighed the decision heavily,” Greg said, his arm on the top of her car again as he leaned down to look her straight in the eye. “The first thing he did after Tory presented herself in his office and confessed what she’d done was arrange to have tests administered to every single student who’d taken her classes. It’s a test given to any student who believes he or she has surpassed the requirements for a given class, but who needs the credit hours for their degree. As long as they pass the test and pay for the hours, they get credit for the class. Every single one of Tory’s students passed and Will was able to award them the credit hours, which meant that, in theory, no students were hurt by her indiscretions. He visited with me and with his board and the university attorney who, by the way, doesn’t know about the current threats.
“After much discussion it was agreed that it was in Montford’s best interests not to press charges. To do so could have affected Montford’s reputation and, in a domino effect, the university’s academic rating, as well, which could then affect our alumni and the several thousand students who were currently enrolled. A diploma from Montford has external economic value....”
Greg’s tone was not quite defensive, but close. And Addy respected him that
much more for the heart he obviously put into his community.
“I know and that’s a valid argument,” Addy told the lawman. “One he could feasibly win with if it ever went to court. Still, we need to be aware that the situation exists and is potentially flammable.”
“You’re saying that thing with Tory could be a valid basis for charges against Will?”
“Yes.”
“Shit.” Sheriff Richards stood back, turned to the road and then spun around to face her again.
“We don’t know that the letter writer even knows about Tory.”
“There was an article in the university paper, as well, after the board made its decision. Will insisted on complete disclosure.”
“I know.” She’d found that article, too. “And if he has to answer to charges, that article will be to his benefit. I just wanted you to know my opinion based on what I’ve found.”
“You want me to tell Will?” Greg was to be their go-between if Will or Addy needed to relay messages to each other.
“I leave that up to you,” she said. “For now, I’m a researcher looking for possible lawsuit opportunities against Will. I can’t think beyond that.”
Adrianna Keller had always been good at emotionally compartmentalizing.
She hoped to God that Adele Kennedy was equally adept.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NONNIE WAS STILL UP, sitting at the computer, when Mark walked in the front door just after eight that evening.
“Who’s winning?” he asked. Judging by the poker hand on the screen, it wasn’t her, which was unusual.
“I’m waiting for the river.” She continued to watch the screen. “The River.” A draw card in Texas Hold ’Em, Nonnie’s current game of choice. “I’m up two tokens for the night.” She had to win ten hands to earn a token.
“Which brings your overall token account to, what, nine hundred and forty-six?”
“One thousand and sixty-two.” He could barely hear her.
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