Deadly Competition (Without a Trace)

by Roxanne Rustand

  An envelope propped against the candle on the kitchen table read Mandy—but open me later written on it. Her last paycheck, probably. She tucked it into her purse. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough, because the thought of leaving here filled her heart with unspeakable sorrow. The sooner she got past the goodbyes, the better.

  Even though Dean could no long pursue her, she’d seen the distant expression in Clint’s eyes and knew that any chances for a relationship were over…if they’d ever existed at all.

  Mandy winced as she awkwardly shouldered her backpack and pulled her suitcase out onto Shelby’s porch. Shelby had already left for work, so Mandy locked the door and dropped the key in the mail slot.

  Everything seemed so final this morning.

  This was the last time she would awaken in Loomis. The last time she would see Shelby, or Clint, or Sarah.

  Clint was waiting on the porch.

  “I guess I’m ready,” she said. “The bus heading back to Atlanta leaves in an hour, and they’ll honor my other ticket.”

  Clint lifted the backpack from her shoulder. “You need more time to heal. Sarah and I can help.”

  “That’s so kind. Really. But…” She took a steadying breath, wishing each of these last minutes were an hour. A day. A year. “Now that Dean is behind bars, hopefully for good, I can go back and take care of some unfinished business. Once I get things straightened out, I can decide if I want to stay or if I still want to try something new.”

  Clint had seemed distracted and withdrawn since yesterday, yet she could hardly fault him for that. He’d remained unfailingly polite, but he had to be horrified that he’d allowed a stranger to lie her way into his life, and to potentially pose a threat to his niece’s welfare.

  “That’s understandable,” he said finally. He turned and called to Sarah, who was sniffing the flowers in planters along Shelby’s sidewalk.

  As he drove Mandy across town to the bus stop, he drummed his fingers lightly on the steering wheel. “I heard from Sam Pierce last night, and Reed just gave me a few more details.”

  “About Leah? Is there news?”

  “Nothing good, but I thought you’d want to know.”

  “Oh, Clint.” Mandy steeled herself, praying for a young woman she’d never met.

  “Based on the blood samples from Sarah and me, there’s a 99.9 percent chance that all of that blood on the tarp was Leah’s. The flow pattern trails off the edge of the tarp, so the actual amount is impossible to judge, but there was a lot.” His voice shook, but he took a steadying breath and continued. “Whether or not she could’ve survived those injuries is just a guess. The forensics experts voted no.”

  “I am so, so sorry.”

  “The other news is that DNA proved Earl wasn’t Sarah’s biological father. It was Dylan Renault.” Clint slowly shook his head. “Shelby told me all along that Leah had been in a date-rape situation. I guess I just didn’t want to believe it.”

  The pieces fell into place, one by one. “Which means that your sister is probably dead…”

  “And that she had the perfect motive for two murders—the husband who found out and the man who ruined her life. If she is alive and ever shows up, she’ll likely be facing the death penalty. Either way, her life is over.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Clint knew Mandy had to be at the breaking point emotionally. She had to be in a great deal of physical pain from the bruises and lacerations she’d suffered. With the fractured rib, it had to be painful to even draw breath.

  He wanted to draw her into an embrace and never let her go. He wanted to find a way to convince her to stay, no matter what it took.

  But he had to let her go.

  He had to let her build her shattered life back home and move on, just as she wished. Loomis, and the memories of Dean’s vicious attack, were probably a nightmare she wanted to forget.

  Clint managed to give her a brief hug and then stand back as she gave Sarah a final hug, too.

  “Are you ready, ma’am?” The bus driver peered out the open door of the bus. “I’m running late, here.”

  “I’d still be happy to put you on a plane,” Clint said. “You’d be a lot more comfortable.”

  She smiled in thanks, but shook her head. “I already have the ticket. On a plane, I’d have two connections and five hours in airports, so I think this way is just less stressful all around.”

  She hesitated, then rose up on her tiptoes and brushed a swift kiss against his cheek. “Thanks so much for everything, Clint. I—I’ll never forget you.”

  Then she was gone, and Sarah started to cry.

  Clint rubbed his eyes then swept his niece up in his arms. “I need to stop at the pawnshop for a few minutes—I never got to see that secret door of yours. Should we take a peek? Then we’ll get ice cream at Bitsy’s. Deal?”

  Sarah laid her head against his shoulder and sniffled. “She left like my momma. Can we get her back?”

  His thoughts exactly.

  It sounded so easy, coming from a three-year-old, but life was never that simple. People came into your life, and they left, and it would only be selfish for him to try to change that fact when Mandy so clearly wanted to leave.

  Mandy leaned her head against the bus window and closed her eyes. She was doing the right thing. Picking up the pieces of her life. Making logical, mature decisions after being ruled by fear during the time she’d been on the run.

  Given her subterfuge, the entire town of Loomis would probably never again believe a word she said, and Clint certainly wouldn’t trust her. A relationship built on such slippery sand would never have a strong foundation of trust.

  He certainly hadn’t tried to convince her to stay.

  So she’d gracefully helped him avoid any awkward scenes by simply fading out of the picture, as an act of kindness.

  Or had it been cowardice? The fear that he’d reject her if she told him how she really felt?

  It didn’t matter. Did it, God?

  It didn’t matter.

  It really didn’t matter.

  She would find a job—hopefully one with benefits—and would need to find a decent place to stay…in her hometown, or someplace else.

  So why, when she was planning all of these good things, did they feel so wrong? God—tell me what to do, here.

  She fumbled through her purse for a mint, and her fingers brushed the envelope Clint had left for her. Sliding a fingernail under the flap, she expected to see just a paycheck. Instead, it held a folded piece of paper with a note in Clint’s handwriting.

  Dear Katherine “Mandy,”

  You’ll be long gone by the time you read this. I know these past weeks have been really tough, so I just wanted to share what I wrote about you for the pageant. I want you to know how much you did for us, and how much we appreciate it. You’ll always be special to me. Please keep in touch, and know that if you ever need help, I’ll come running.

  Love always,

  Clint.

  She blinked back the burning sensation in her eyes, then unfolded the other sheet of paper and began to read.

  Clint took Sarah to the library, hoping that a stack of books and seeing Shelby would make Sarah feel better. But Shelby was out at an appointment and Sarah was too listless to look at the books, so next he took her to the park so she could play on the swings.

  Keeping one eye on her, he flipped through his mail. Advertising circulars. Bills. Junk mail on spa weekends and credit-card applications and house siding.

  At the bottom of the stack, he flipped past a plain white envelope marked Confidential, and started to stuff everything back into his pocket. Look again, a small voice whispered. Look again.

  He slid a fingernail under the flap of the plain white envelope, expecting yet another “personal” invitation to apply for a credit card….

  But the letter inside was typed on hospital-letterhead stationery, and with it was a lab report. He stared at it, his heart beating faster, the words swimming on the paper. And
then they coalesced into a statement of fact that he’d still hoped was wrong.

  The lab results confirmed what he’d already learned from Sam Pierce: there was more than a 99.9 percent chance that Sarah Elisabeth Farley was the daughter of Dylan Renault.

  He lifted his gaze to the play equipment, where Sarah had put her doll in a baby seat and was swinging her back and forth while singing “Rock-a-Bye Baby” in a high, childish voice.

  Oh, sweetheart. What is this going to mean to you? He swallowed hard, emotion clogging his throat.

  And poor Leah—what had it been like for her, trying to keep the truth hidden? Worse, did this have anything to do with her disappearance? The facts that Dylan was dead and she was missing were too coincidental to ignore. And what about Earl—had he known the truth?

  Clint closed his eyes and leaned against the rough bark of an ancient live oak. Now that the DNA had been confirmed by two sources, Charla deserved to know. He had to call her. But she was an unpredictable, powerful woman, and Dylan’s little daughter would now be her last remaining link to her beloved son. Would she fight for custody and turn Sarah’s life into a nightmare?

  Please, God—tell me what to do. Tell me what’s right and fair and best for everyone.

  But he didn’t need to ask, because God had already placed the answer in his heart.

  He tapped 411 onto his cell phone on the chance Charla was listed with directory assistance, though when the call went through he found himself hoping she wouldn’t answer.

  She answered on the second ring and didn’t sound pleased, so she’d probably seen his name come up on her caller ID. The wonder was that she’d answered at all. “Yes?”

  “I just received the results of some lab work, Charla. I thought you should be the first to know.”

  “I can’t imagine being interested in your health, Herald. For the past year, the rumors flying around town about my son and that—that sister of yours have been incredibly painful. I no longer have anything to say to you, or to anyone else in your family. Good day.”

  “Wait—it’s about DNA. About your son.”

  After a pause, she apparently lifted the phone back to her ear. “If you’re claiming that my son ever had anything to do with a woman like Leah—”

  “I’m not claiming anything. I’ve got the lab reports right here. There’s a 99.9 percent chance that he was Sarah’s father. If you want, I can fax the report to you.”

  An icy silence lengthened, until he wondered if she’d quietly hung up.

  And then she sniffed. “This is about trying to come after our money, isn’t it? You think you can play me with some sort of evidence—very likely tampered with, or contaminated—and then make a cozy life for yourself.”

  He reined in his rising anger. “I have no need of your money, and neither does Sarah. I just thought you’d like to know that Dylan had a daughter. And I thought you might like the chance to know her as your granddaughter.”

  “And I, young man, have no doubt that your sister slept around. That child could be the spawn of her husband, or any number of other men in this county. If you choose to start any gossip that reflects badly on my son, you’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

  He stared at his phone long after Charla ended the connection, still not believing what he’d heard.

  “Can we throw rocks, Unca Clint?”

  Startled by the irony of her words, he looked down into Sarah’s sweet face. “Do you mean skipping stones?”

  She nodded her head vigorously. “My baby wants to see.”

  He walked hand in hand with her out to the old pier, where they skipped a few stones down the narrow channel of open water that led into the bayou, then sat down to watch the ducks and egrets feeding near the reeds.

  The emptiness in his heart over Mandy’s departure, followed by Charla’s stiff dismissal of the DNA results, still gnawed at him. How could that old woman deny her flesh and blood?

  Sarah would have a safe, loving home with him forever if Leah never returned. But how was he going to survive without Mandy in his life?

  God, I need some help here…everything is going wrong. I know I need to step back and let you take care of things in the way you know best. But it’s hard…so hard.

  “I want Mandy back,” Sarah insisted for the hundredth time when he offered to take her out on the boat. “Can we go get her?”

  He looked out over the bayou, feeling lonelier that he’d ever felt in his life. “I’d love to, honey. But she has lots of other things she has to do, and she has to be far away. She’ll be really busy for a long, long time.”

  “No, she won’t.”

  At the sound of Mandy’s voice, Clint’s heart lodged in his throat. He turned slowly, not quite believing she was there, but Sarah whirled around and flung herself into Mandy’s open arms.

  “You left.”

  “And I came back.”

  She smiled at him, but he could see the uncertainty in her eyes. “You forgot something?”

  She nodded, snuggling Sarah close. “I forgot about what was most important. And when I read your essay on the bus, I remembered.”

  An ember of joy and hope started to flicker in his chest, and he knew without a doubt how much he loved her. “Seeing you leave was like losing everything I’ve ever dreamed of. I just didn’t want to stand in your way, if it was what you truly wanted.”

  “I didn’t dare try for it until it was almost too late.” She stepped into his arms and looked up to meet his eyes. “So many things in my life have turned out wrong. I was sure that even God didn’t care what happened to me anymore. And yet, I came here and it seemed like I’d come home…it was like He was answering a prayer that I’d been afraid to ask. I guess I just had to open my heart.”

  She took a deep breath. “So what I’m asking is this—I want to give us a chance, with all of that other baggage behind us. What do you think?”

  She looked so uncertain, so vulnerable, that Clint gently took Sarah and put her down, then wrapped Mandy in a long embrace. “Nothing would make me happier,” he whispered, and then he kissed her. “I love you, Katherina Amanda—my Mandy. Seeing you here again has just made my world complete.”

  They went for supper at the Cajun restaurant on the bayou, the soft glow of the candles adding a touch of intimacy to the festive place. Shelby and her fiancé joined them, along with Ava and Max, who had just happened to stop at the restaurant at the same time. By eight o’clock, Sarah was yawning and it was clearly time to leave.

  Mandy and Clint walked down the cobblestone path leading out to the parking lot with Sarah dozing on his shoulder. He looked out at the forest of cypress and underbrush, now tinted gold by the lowering sun, and caught a flash of movement near the water’s edge. A deer?

  He squinted against the sunlight, and his breath caught in his chest. It was a slender woman, silhouetted by the sun, her familiar form made hazy by a mist rising off the water.

  Leah?

  He stared, his mouth dry and his heart hammering in his ribs. It was Leah—it was absolutely, undeniably her, even down to the tentative tilt of her head as she stared back at him.

  But before he could call out her name, she slipped into the shadows of the cypress trees and disappeared.

  “I know it was Leah,” Clint whispered, in case Sarah wasn’t quite asleep in her car seat. “I’d bet my life on it.”

  “Then why didn’t she come up to you? Why did she run?”

  “I don’t know. I just don’t know.” Clint drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “The footprint in the mud was about her size. I’m sure of that, too.” He glanced at the rearview mirror, then turned the truck down Main Street. “Do you mind if I run into the pawnshop for just a minute? In all the excitement recently, we never looked behind the panel Sarah showed us. Maybe Leah’s been there, too. I might see some sign of her.”

  “Of course. Since Sarah’s asleep, I’ll stay in the truck with her.”

  Clint pulled to a stop in front of
the shop, unlocked the front door and searched every room. The air was musty and stale, and there was no sign that Leah had come inside.

  With a sigh of frustration, he pulled a Phillips screwdriver from his back pocket, flipped on all the lights and knelt in front of the section of paneling in the hallway.

  The section was held by six small, tightly fastened screws. After removing the last one, he pried at the section of paneling with the screwdriver. A one-foot square section fell to the floor in a cloud of dust.

  He reached for the flashlight he’d grabbed from the counter and whipped it around the interior of the small chamber. His heart fell. Empty.

  A shadow fell across the wall above him. Clint startled, rocketed to his feet and spun around in one fluid motion.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man stood a few feet away, his features silhouetted by the bright lights of the shop behind him. In his hand, he held a small slim object that he flipped idly in the air. “Looking for this?”

  Clint blinked at the vaguely familiar voice. “Roman? Roman Black?”

  “It’s been awhile.”

  They’d been friends in high school but hadn’t seen each other since. “How did you get in here—and why?”

  Roman dangled a key from his fingertips. “Earl’s brother sent me this and told me about that place in the wall. He said Earl always used it for anything he needed to hide.”

  “Why didn’t he come himself?”

  “He hired me. I’m a bounty hunter, Clint. I’m here to find Earl’s killer and make sure she pays for her crime—and I think you and I both know exactly who that is. Your sister, Leah.”

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you’ve enjoyed spending time with Mandy, Clint and little Sarah in Deadly Competition. There’s just something special about a strong, heroic man who can take in a young child and give her a safe, loving home…and one who refuses to give up his faith in the ones he loves. Deep character goes far beyond just another handsome face. Coupling that with his faith in God, Clint has become one of my favorite heroes. And then there’s Mandy—emotionally wounded and on the run. What would it be like to be in her shoes? Finally discovering the kind of man and the life she’d only dreamed of, yet being too afraid to stay?