On the Rebound 2

by Brenda Barrett

  It wouldn't be fair to Jorja, who obviously needed guidance. He couldn't offer her the guidance and support she needed when he was so caught up in his own situation. He had already failed in his relationship with her.

  He would confess to both Jorja and Ashley and then he would call the conference. He got up and stretched and inhaled the faint tinge of orange blossom in the air.

  He then went inside and headed to Jorja's room door. He knocked softly but didn't get a response. He turned the doorknob and was surprised to see that it wasn't locked. She had done her fair share of locking him out these past couple of days.

  He walked toward her bed. She was snoring lightly, her mouth half opened. The sheets were tangled and hanging half off the bed.

  The fan made a rattling groan in the corner of the room. His little girl. Ruel felt a surge of regret; he had not shaped up to be the best father in the world, had he?

  He sat beside her bed and pulled one of her braids from her face.

  She stirred and snuffled but didn't wake up. He saw a book marked ‘diary’ on her side table. And his hand itched to pick it up.

  And he did. Her penmanship was atrocious. The book opened up on August 12th, yesterday. Ruel read the entry in the book and then put it back down, his heart pounding in weird staccato beats.

  He inhaled shakily and then exhaled in a huge plunge of air.

  Jorja woke up. "Dad?" She blinked at him blearily.

  "Yes, it's me." Ruel sighed. "I wanted to talk."

  "Not about my pregnancy," Jorja groaned and turned her head away.

  "No." Ruel sighed. "I want to talk about your mother... and then, about your pregnancy."

  Jorja turned over and looked at him. "Okay."

  *****

  King had to admit that when he met up with Clarke he was no longer interested in Lyn Skinner. He waited at the entrance to the Skinner home impatiently. He was more interested in Jack Kincaid right now, Norma Kincaid's little handyman. She must have sent him to kill Regina. His instructions would be simple. Feed Regina the peanut milk and don't leave until she stops breathing.

  That woman had a lot to answer for. His resentment boiled over. He didn't want to acknowledge that he had a personal vendetta against Norma Kincaid. He couldn't tell anybody that. He hadn't wanted to let Regina know that he had only taken her case when he heard where she was staying and that Norma Kincaid was involved.

  He had a personal desire to see Norma Kincaid fall flat on her face.

  Back when he was a young man of twenty-five and couldn't read or decipher a word of English, he had gone to an adult learning class at the local church school in May Pen. His teacher was Norma Landis, a twenty-year-old girl who had volunteered to teach them for two weeks.

  He had attended because it was free. Norma had done it because she was broke but she could read really fluently. She had no teacher training, nor tact or diplomacy. She had looked him in the eye one night after he struggled with his vowels and told him that he wouldn't amount to anything. She had sneered at him and called him dunce.

  He had never forgotten it. Her words had hurt but that sneer had dwelt with him for thirty years and ever since then he had been interested to see when she was going to fall.

  Today was the day. He almost rubbed his hands in glee.

  "What are you looking so pleased about?" Clarke asked curiously.

  "I have a lead." King could barely contain his pleasure.

  "Oh." Clarke nodded. "No need to cast lots then?"

  "No need."

  "You are good." Clarke whistled. "It usually takes us weeks to find a reliable lead."

  King grunted. He swallowed the insult he had for the police force. He had once been a member and he had had a fruitless twenty years.

  Since he prematurely retired and started his own investigation business, he was just beginning to see results. He preferred this to the endless bureaucracy and unsolved cases.

  He still needed the law though, because he could see in his mind’s eye Clarke slapping the handcuffs on Norma Kincaid and her whole family.

  Lyn Skinner walked up the road and spotted them. They met her at the gate.

  "How are you, Miss Skinner?" Clarke asked amiably.

  "Fine and a bit sad. I didn't know her that well but what I knew I liked. Regina was a tough bird," Lyn whispered. Her voice was hoarse and low. "I broke my voice screaming out on Sunday. I didn't expect to see her in the house, you know. She said she had a yacht party that she needed to go to from Saturday night and then to see that she was dead…"

  King nodded. "The place was not broken into so whoever Regina let into the house was someone she knew."

  "Or the door was opened," Lyn said. "She was leaving; she just said that she was going to get her bag. Maybe if I had just come to check that she was really gone then she could have gotten help before she passed out. The last time she had an allergy it took her nearly an hour to be swollen and rashy. What I can't understand is why would she drink something that she is allergic to?"

  "Maybe somebody wanted her gone." King pushed his hand in his pocket and rocked back on his heels.

  Lyn Skinner nodded. "She really went ham on them at church. She told me before that she had had it and she would have nothing more to do with Primrose Hill. I was even telling her some rumors about the pastor's girl but she said she didn't want to hear it. Next thing I know she met Norma Kincaid on the step and all hell broke loose."

  "You heard the whole thing?" King asked.

  "Well, close enough," Lyn said. "I was sitting on the very back of the church bench to the right near the door, and Regina was not subtle at all."

  "You were the Kincaid's housekeeper for years. How would you say they are?"

  Lyn sighed. "They are good people. I was jealous and wrong and frustrated with my lot in life and I stole from them. If I hadn't met Regina and poured out my bitterness to her, she wouldn't have wanted to stay. This is a wake-up call detectives. I have stopped gossiping and pointing fingers. Regina's death was a sign for me to stop."

  "Ridiculous," King snorted when Lyn Skinner turned toward the house.

  "Death and life are in the power of the tongue," Clarke said softly. "She's right. She may have started a chain of events that did not have to happen."

  "But calling the Kincaids good just because she has come to some awareness is ridiculous." King sputtered. "By the way, that's where we are going next. A witness said their boy, Jack Kincaid, was loitering around here the evening of her death."

  Chapter Twenty

  Ruel left Jorja in her room sobbing and he rubbed his trembling arms across his face. Next stop Ashley.

  After that the Cokes’ hydroponics farm.

  After that he didn't know what else. Maybe a long fasting and prayer session where he would, like David, his favorite character in the Bible, ask the Lord to cleanse him with hyssop and make him clean again. He knew one thing for certain; he would probably not go back into the ministry in a formal position. He would probably teach; after all, he had a degree in education.

  Ashley was asleep when he pushed the door and went into the room. It was quite unusual for her to be asleep at this hour, but he didn't move any farther into the room to wake her up. There was time enough for that. He went back to the living room, grabbed his Bible and tightly closed his eyes. Lord, give me strength, please.

  "Oh my, look at the time!" Ashley came out to the living room a half hour later, looking frazzled. "Why didn’t you wake me up, Ruel? It’s nine o’clock!"

  Ruel looked at her, a misty smile on his face. "You needed the rest."

  Ashley was in one of those slip-looking nightdresses that rode up on her legs when she lifted her hands.

  He drank her in; he might never see her like this again.

  "I need to talk to you."

  She looked at him and blinked. "I am not seeing straight and I need to brush my teeth. Give me five minutes."

  "Sure." Ruel smiled calmly at her but inside he was quaking. The threat
of imminent loss overtook him and when she came back and sat across from him, folding her legs beneath her, and looked at him with her beautiful limpid eyes, the words had fled.

  "I didn't kill Rosalie."

  Ashley smiled gently. "Ruel, you've said it so many times. I believe you. I know Regina had her theories."

  "I didn't kill her because she is not dead."

  He waited for that news to sink in.

  "Explain." Ashley's lips trembled. "I don't get it."

  Ruel grimaced. "We were supposed to go to Florida on vacation. Well, not really vacation. I wanted a second opinion about her mental condition because she was not getting better and I heard about this doctor there who was good with people like Rosalie. Before we could board the plane Rosalie attacked one of the security officials. The metal detector went off and she was patted down and that triggered one of her rages. They couldn't calm her down. It was chaos. Instead of jail she was taken to the mental hospital at Bellevue."

  "Oh God." Ashley sank down to the bed. "What?"

  "She had to be forcibly sedated," Ruel whispered, "and then they admitted her after a battery of tests. She was deemed to be a threat to herself and others and was admitted. That was where I spent my so-called vacation," Ruel said ruefully. "It was while there that I came up with this obviously ill-thought-out idea to announce her death. You see, I reasoned that if I said she was dead then I would be free to explore the overwhelming feelings I had toward you. I knew you were going to be at the convention so I made sure that I showed up there. I knew you were divorced. I knew you had children and that they didn't live with you and that you weren't seeing anybody. I basically stalked you for months before that and when Rosalie finally snapped, I hatched a foolproof plan for us to be together."

  "Dear God." Ashley squeezed her eyes shut. "How could you be as devious as to try to cover up something like this? Did you think that this could be swept under the carpet forever? I am not really married to you, am I?"

  "No," Ruel whispered, "I am afraid not."

  "I can't process this." Ashley closed her eyes and then she started chuckling. And then the chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh that she couldn't quite stop.

  "Ashley," Ruel said softly, "please forgive me, I..."

  "No," Ashley growled, straightening up and wiping her eyes. "No sentiments please. I fully and totally understand that this is my punishment. Justice is served. I had a perfectly good husband, I cheated on him, I deceived him and I continually lied to him. I hurt him in horrible ways and now only now I understand what I did to Brandon. This is my just reward."

  "I started divorce proceedings a year ago with Rosalie. It was finalized six weeks ago, when Regina came by."

  "You started divorce proceedings when we had our bogus wedding? So many people deceived." Ashley sighed tiredly. "I would just like to go back to sleep and forget that this year happened."

  "Ashley..." Ruel wanted to plead with her to forgive him, to stay with him, to sort this madness out, to marry him for real this time, but Ashley was not really listening.

  She half-opened her eyes. "I am going to have to pack. My car is at the mechanic. How am I going to get out of here? Better yet, how am I going to forget that this happened? I am not really married. I have Dennison on all my legal documents. So many things to sort out, so many people to explain to."

  "Ash, please. We could get married for real tomorrow. I want you to know that I still love you...I really do love you..."

  "No thanks," Ashley said softly, in that half asleep quality that she had adopted. "I am going to summon the energy to pack and then I am going to leave here today. Have you told Jorja that her mother is still alive?"

  "Yes." Ruel nodded. "She took it pretty well."

  "I can't imagine how she could take that news well." Ashley got up and grimaced. "It's her mother..."

  "Her mother was not healthy and was a danger to us all. Jorja understands that."

  "There is no justification, Ruel...you think you know a person...you can't just take people at face value anymore, can you?"

  Ruel sighed. "We all have our secret dark things, even you..."

  "I thought you were different...perfect."

  "I am a man and fallible," Ruel said. "I can only be perfect through Jesus Christ and without him I am completely and spectacularly fallible, but I am coming clean and I need to know how you feel about us."

  Ashley shook her head. "I can't... this is too much."

  "I am going to the Cokes’ farm now," Ruel said gently, "do you want a lift to Kingston when I get back?"

  "No, I am sure I can manage." Ashley didn't even look at him as she headed for the room again. It was over. No fanfare. No dramatics. No feeling. And that, more than anything, was heartbreaking.

  *****

  King and Clarke drove up at the Kincaids’ house at the same time Norma was backing out her vehicle. She stopped when King alighted from the car and got out of the vehicle, looking angry.

  "You don't give up, do you?" She looked at King angrily. "What is it now?"

  "Mrs. Kincaid," King said, satisfaction lacing his voice, "I am here to see your son."

  Norma frowned, "Jack? Why?"

  "He was seen near the Skinner house at the time of Regina's unfortunate demise."

  Norma frowned fiercely. "So what?"

  King had her. She looked cornered and slightly afraid, though she was hiding it well. Her little plot was foiled.

  "May we see him, ma'am?" Clarke asked gently. "We just have some questions for him."

  King was not into the gentle courteousness. He wanted to see Norma Kincaid knocked down a notch or two. He wanted to see her bleed. He almost growled in her face, "Get him now."

  Norma jumped but she meekly complied, hurrying toward the sprawling house as if dogs were at her heels.

  When she returned with the boy, Owen Kincaid was also with him.

  Owen greeted them cordially, King noted. He was quite the gentleman. King had to give him that. He was not as blustery and waspish as his wife.

  "Jack Kincaid," King said, observing the boy in slight disbelief. He was thin and tall and looked as if a good gust of wind could blow him away. He was also bashful. He tried to unsuccessfully hide behind his mother but he was taller than she was and his actions looked comical.

  "How old are you?" King didn't even realize that he was asking it out loud. In his imagination he pictured a young, stropping adult who was able to force Regina to drink something she was allergic to and intimidate her into staying until she suffocated to death.

  "Ma," the adult kid whined to his mother.

  "Answer." Norma looked at her son sternly.

  The boy hung his head and murmured, "Twenty-one."

  King's previous conclusions were looking very dim now. Was this man/child capable of harming anyone?

  "Why were you at the Skinner's place?" King growled and watched him flinch.

  "There is no need to speak to him like this," Norma rounded on King, defending her son. "He does not respond well to bullying and that is what you are doing, Mr. Hartley."

  King had to give a mental nod. He was being harsh but part of that was frustration. He had so wanted this kid to be the one to be culpable for the crime.

  "I followed Josiah," the kid said hesitantly. "His car was at the Skinners’ house in the morning. I... I saw him when we were heading back to church after that girl made Ma cry."

  "He doesn't need to know that," Norma said, holding her chin high. "Just stick to what you saw."

  "And in the evening, I saw him walking by. He never walks by on church day. So I followed him and I saw when he went over to the Skinners’ place. He went over to the side window and looked through."

  King’s eyes connected with Norma's and he realized that they were both thinking the same thing.

  "And then he came out of the yard. He didn't see me because he headed off down the hill. Is he going to be in trouble?"

  King and Clarke looked at each other.

&
nbsp; "We'll see," King said, feeling deflated. He had wanted it to be Norma Kincaid.

  Norma folded her arms over her chest and then she dropped them, as the haughtiness seemed as if it melted from her face. "I am sorry, Kingsley Hartley."

  "Huh?" King had turned toward the vehicle.

  "I said," Norma swallowed, "I am sorry for saying that you would not amount to much, thirty years ago. I know that it still hurts you and I am genuinely sorry for saying it."

  King couldn't believe what he was hearing.

  Norma looked at Owen and then swallowed. "I liked you, you know. I had a crush on you back then and I said the worst things to you. I don't know why, who knows why they say the things they say sometimes. I didn't mean it and I regretted it the moment I said it. I realized what a blow it was to you."

  King didn't know what to do. He was standing there like a statue.

  "And," Norma sighed, "I guess you will hear this eventually but I am not a human trafficker. I was helping the anti-human trafficking task force with getting the people from this end of the food chain. Several persons in my field have been working with them."

  "Oh." King felt foolish. Severely foolish.

  "Don't feel bad about this," Norma sighed, "it is not advertised for a reason. If everybody knew we wouldn't be able to catch the bad guys. I was hoping that Regina would have dropped the whole thing and just shut up about her theories. I am sorry for the loss of your friend."

  "Thank you," King said, his voice getting husky.

  She nodded and watched him as he got into the car with Clarke.

  "So where to now?" Clarke asked him jovially.

  "The Cokes’ Farm." King started the car. "What's it called again?"

  "Rose Hill Farms," Clarke said, "That's where my wife buys our vegetables."

  Chapter Twenty One

  Ruel drove up to Rose Hill farms. His hand was sweaty on the steering wheel and his heart was pounding like a jungle drum. When he had seen the name Coke in Jorja's diary he had blinked twice before it had sunk in what he was reading.