As LaShae made her way up the staircase to the second floor, she sighed deeply, weary from a long day at the station, and then dinner with her husband to discuss the terms of their legal separation. Rodney had moved out only a week ago, after another of their heated arguments. Neither of them wanted to rush into a divorce. For many reasons, they wanted to try to make their marriage work. Martin being the main reason. They both adored their son. Another reason was because Rodney had plans to run for state senator. He understood
that a family would be a benefit for him in any election. And LaShae had her own selfish reasons for wanting to remain Mrs. Rodney Goodloe. Her husband was quite wealthy and she enjoyed the lifestyle they shared. Although her local TV show was fairly popular, she had no false hopes of ever hitting the big time, of becoming the next Oprah Winfrey. No, she was lucky just to be doing local TV in a big city like Birmingham and she knew it.
As she passed Martin’s open bedroom door, she paused and glanced inside. Her four year old slept soundly in the antique spindle bed that had been his grandfather Goodloe’s. LaShae wasn’t all that fond of antiques, but Rodney loved them. One of their many differences. Differences that seemed unimportant five years ago when they married, but now those tiny molehills had become mountains.
LaShae tiptoed into her son’s room and paused by his bed. Looking down at him, she smiled. He was such a beautiful child. Long, lean, and sturdy, his body build a great deal like hers. His black hair was thick and coarse like Rodney’s, and his face round, his cheeks full like his father’s.
She wanted to wake him, lift him into her arms and hug him. She had never realized she could love anyone so much, not until she’d given birth to this perfect little boy. Another thing she could thank Rodney for. He’d given her so much. She should love him.
She did love him. Just not as much as she should. Not in the way she should.
What will it do to you, sweet baby, if your daddy and I get a divorce?
Lying there in innocent bliss, he knew nothing about his parents’ marital problems. When Rodney moved out, they’d told Martin that Daddy had to work at night for a while. Being a partner in one of Birmingham’s most prestigious law firms was time-consuming for Rodney and occasionally she felt that he neglected Martin as much as he neglected her.
“I won’t make a selfish decision,” she whispered to her son. “I promise I’ll do what I think is best for all of us, but especially for you.”
As she crept silently out of the room, she didn’t hear her aunt Carol approaching. When she came face-to-face with her mother’s sister, she gasped.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, child.”
“You didn’t,” LaShae said. “You just startled me.”
Her aunt, now nearly seventy, had moved in with them shortly after Martin was born. Neither LaShae nor Rodney had wanted to put their child in daycare or allow a stranger to come into their home to raise him. Having Auntie Carol as Martin’s nanny had been a godsend for the entire family.
“Did you and Rodney have a nice dinner?” Aunt Carol asked.
Towering over her by a good seven inches, LaShae put her arm around her five-two aunt. “Dinner was very nice. But before you say anything else—no, we are not going to get a divorce. And yes, we are going to try a trial separation.”
“Separations ain’t no good. His eye will start wandering and before you know it, he’ll take up with another woman.”
LaShae smiled indulgently. She could hardly tell her aunt that it wasn’t Rodney who had a wandering eye. She was the one who had had an affair. The sexual attraction between her and the morning-and-noon news anchor at WBNN, Ben Thompson, had exploded a couple of months ago.
Frustrated to the breaking point, Ben had put out feelers about a job at other stations: In Nashville, Knoxville, Mobile, and even in Louisville.
Walking her aunt to her room, LaShae said, “Don’t worry so much about Rodney and me. We just need some time apart. We both need to reevaluate our marriage, our careers, and decide what is best for everyone involved.”
“Staying married is what’s best for all of you, especially little Martin. Babies need their mama and daddy together. Think about your own dear mama and your good daddy.”
After stopping at her aunt’s bedroom door, LaShae leaned down and kissed her on both cheeks. “Have I told you lately how much I love you, Auntie?”
Grinning broadly, her aunt gave her a big hug. “I love you, too, child. Like you was my own.”
After saying good night, LaShae walked down the hall and entered the master suite, an eighteen-by-twenty-five foot room that boasted a king-size mahogany bed with matching chest and dresser on one side and a sitting area on the other. She had decorated this room herself, without the assistance of the interior designer Rodney had hired. She had wanted their personal retreat to reflect her own personality.
LaShae removed her jacket and unzipped her dress, then kicked off her heels. Just as she lifted her dress up and over her head, the phone rang. Tossing her dress on the bed, she checked the caller ID on the bedside telephone.
Her heart lurched to her throat. She picked up the receiver. “Hello, Ben.”
“How are you?”
She loved the sound of his voice.
“I’m okay. You?”
Silence.
“Ben?”
“I … uh … I’ve been offered a job as evening news anchor at WMMJ in Mobile.”
“Oh. Are you going to—?”
“Cherie and I talked it over and we decided that if we’re going to make a move, now is the time. While the girls are still in preschool.”
“When?”
“I’m going to hand in my notice Monday, after I call and accept the offer.”
Silence.
“LaShae?”
“I’m here.”
“This is the best thing for both of us. You know that, don’t you?”
She swallowed the lump of tears lodged in her throat. “Yes, I know.”
“I wish things were different.”
“You know what Auntie Carol says—wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up the quickest.”
He chuckled softly, then sighed and said, “I love you.”
Tears gathered in her eyes. Oh, God, she was going to cry like a baby if she didn’t end this conversation now.
“I love you, too,” she told him, then hung up.
The morning after Gale Ann Cain’s funeral, Judd left the house at dawn. He hadn’t gotten more than three hours sleep last night and felt like total crap. As he’d tumbled about restlessly during the night, he’d told himself that he shouldn’t have gone to the funeral, that it had dredged up too many memories of Jenny’s funeral. But that was a lie. He couldn’t remember a great deal about his wife’s funeral and what he did recall stayed with him all the time and resurfaced without the least provocation. He hadn’t needed Gale Ann’s services to remind him of what he’d lost.
As he jogged along the endless trails at Griffin’s Rest, Judd tried to block out the memories, even the happy ones. But Jenny’s laughter echoed inside his head.
She’d been such an exuberant person, so bubbly and energetic. A true extrovert. He had loved just being with her, watching her, listening to her.
But sometimes all that effervescent vitality had gone too far.
Don’t think about it!
Why not? Jennifer wasn’t a saint. She made mistakes. She was human.
It wasn’t her fault. It was never her fault. She couldn’t help herself, the way she flirted, the way men were always coming on to her.
But she enjoyed it. You know she did.
Judd’s lungs burned with exhaustion. He had no idea how many miles he had run. Two? Five? More?
Unfortunately, no matter how many miles he ran, how far or fast, he could never escape the past. All those walks and jogs he’d taken at home, at the hunting lodge, had accomplished little more than to make him so tired he’d been able to sleep for a fe
w hours at a time.
Stopping by the boathouse he’d first seen with Lindsay, Judd slumped down on a nearby tree stump, dropped his hands between his knees and stared at the dead leaves beneath his feet. Sunlight flickered softly through the towering trees, creating a patchwork of light and dark over the ground.
Despite the wintry chill, perspiration moistened Judd’s forehead. He gulped in air, filling his aching lungs. As he sat and rested, his breathing gradually returned to normal and his mind cleared. He forced himself to concentrate on the moment, on appreciating the solitude, the brilliant sunlight, the still waters of the lake.
How long had it been since he’d allowed himself to enjoy something as simple as feeling the sun on his face?
The crunching of dried leaves alerted him that someone or something was approaching. Lindsay? She had probably followed him to make sure he was all right. How many times did he have to tell her to stop worrying about him?
He wished she’d leave him alone.
No, you don’t.
He looked over his shoulder, expecting to see Lindsay, but instead Yvette Meng walked toward him. She was a beautiful woman: Exotic and alluring. The heavy moss green sweat pants and matching fleece-lined jacket hid her sensuous curves.
Looking back at the ground, he waited for her to speak first.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Morning.”
“You were expecting someone else.” A statement of fact, not a question.
“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” he said. “I just heard a noise and turned to see what it was.”
“Do you lie to yourself all the time?”
He looked up at her then, into her dazzling black eyes, and felt as if she could see through him, that she was probing inside his mind. The thought unnerved him.
“As a general rule, I try not to be judgmental,” she told him.
Wanting to change the subject he said, “You’re out and about awfully early.”
She smiled, her mouth closed, the corners of her lips lifting delicately. “I saw you leave and followed you.”
He rose from the stump and turned to face her. “Dare I ask why?”
“I thought perhaps, after yesterday, you might need some one to talk to about—”
“Which one of them sent you after me—Griff or Lindsay?”
“I haven’t seen either of them this morning. The decision to find you and offer my help was my own idea.”
He eyed her skeptically.
“I have no reason to lie to you.”
He studied her face for a couple of minutes, then nodded. “Sure. Fine.”
“Griffin has a beautiful estate.”
“Yeah, he sure does.” Now what? Idle chitchat? Lulling him into a false sense of ease?
“You are a very wealthy man, also.”
He grunted. “Old money. Generations of millionaires.”
“What do you do with your money?”
“Pardon?”
“Do you share your wealth? Do good deeds with it? Give to charity?”
“Oh, I see. No, I don’t personally do anything with it. I haven’t in quite some time. I have lawyers and accountants and administrators who have been handling all the Walker family business for me.”
“Since your wife died?”
“Yeah, since Jennifer was murdered.”
“I’ve seen photographs of your wife. She was lovely. And I understand she was also a very talented pianist.”
“Is this our first session, Dr. Meng?”
She took several steps away from him, toward the lake, her gaze focused on the gently rippling surface of the water as the morning breeze danced lightly over it. “If you’d like for it to be.”
He closed his eyes to shut her out, to close himself off, trying to sidestep the truth. Why he was tempted to take her up on her offer, he didn’t know.
“How about a trial run?” he asked.
“Meaning?”
“Give me some advice and I’ll see if I like my advice.”
She laughed, the sound filled with good humor and … tenderness. “And if you do not like my advice?”
He shrugged. “We’ll see.”
“Very well. I advise you to do something good for someone else.”
“Anyone in particular?”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I’m not much into good deeds.”
“You asked my advice. I gave it to you. It is up to you whether or not to use it.”
He walked up beside her. “Tell me something?”
“Yes?” She continued looking at the lake.
“Is Lindsay really all right? I mean after what happened between us, what I did to her, is she okay?”
“I never discuss my client’s privileged information with anyone else.”
Before he realized her intention, Yvette reached out and laid her hand on his arm. He felt the warmth from her touch through the thickness of his jacket. Odd.
“Fair enough.”
“You are sorry that you hurt her,” Yvette said. “You care about her. You—”
Judd jerked away from Yvette and glared at her. “Haven’t you heard? I don’t give a damn about anyone or anything except finding my wife’s killer.”
“You’re lying to yourself again.”
When he stomped away from her, heading deeper into the woods, he halfway expected her to follow him.
She didn’t.
Griff had slept in this morning and was still in his robe when Sanders knocked on his bedroom door.
“Yeah, come on in. I’m awake.”
Sanders entered carrying an insulated carafe of coffee and a single china cup and saucer on a small silver tray. He placed the tray on the large leather ottoman in the sitting room.
“How is Barbara Jean this morning?” Griff asked.
“She is quite well, all things considered,” Sanders replied. “I was concerned that yesterday might have been too difficult for her, but I am learning what a remarkably strong woman she is.”
“You admire her.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And like her?”
“She is a likable person.”
“So she is.”
“Will there be anything else?”
“What effect do you think it had on Barbara Jean my telling her about the other witness?” Griff asked.
“The effect you desired. She seems quite relieved to know that someone other than she can describe the man to the authorities.”
“I prefer that she not know his description was as sketchy as hers.”
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
Sanders nodded, then walked to the door. Just as he reached the hallway, Judd spoke to him in passing as he entered Griff’s room.
“Got a minute?” Judd asked.
“Come on in. I was about to have my first cup of coffee.” Griff sat down on the sofa in the sitting area, opened the carafe, and poured the steaming black liquid into his cup.
Judd came over and sat down in the chair to the left of the sofa. “I talked to Dr. Meng this morning.”
“Hmm …”
“She’s an interesting woman.”
Griff lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. Delicious. He savored that first morning cup of coffee. He had hated coffee in his teens and early twenties, preferring colas and beer. Sanders had taught him to appreciate coffee when the drink had been a delicacy for both of them.
“Yes, Yvette is interesting, intriguing, beguiling.”
“Where did you meet her?”
“Long ago and far away,” Griff said, then took several more sips from his cup.
Judd grunted. “I guess you know that sounded like the beginning of a fairy tale.”
“Believe me, it was not a fairy tale.”
“You met her while you were out of the country, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Are you ever going to tell anyone where you were or what happened?”
�
�No.” Griff finished off his coffee, then poured a second cup.
Silence.
After several minutes, Judd said, “I’m probably going to talk to her. Just talk. See how it goes.”
Don’t react too quickly, Griff told himself. If Judd thinks you’re pushing him, he’ll balk. “Yvette’s a good listener.”
“She gave me some advice this morning.”
“Are you planning on taking it?”
“Maybe.”
Griff nodded, then started on his second cup of coffee.
“Aren’t you going to ask what advice she gave me?”
Griff shrugged. “I figured you’d tell me if you wanted me to know.”
Judd said, “She suggested that I try doing something good for someone else.”
“Got anything in mind?”
“No. I’m not even sure I want to do anything. I’m not sure I can.”
“You won’t know until you try,” Griff said. “You’re a little out of practice. But there was a time when you were a pretty decent guy.”
“Yeah, that was the other Judd Walker. The guy who thought he had the world by the tail.”
For all his money, Griff didn’t think he’d ever again be as happy as he’d been when he’d been the star quarterback for UT. Back when he’d been young and cocky and, like Judd, had thought he had the world by the tail. “Do you think we only get one chance at that?” Griff asked, dead serious.
“Probably,” Judd said.
“Yeah, that’s what I figured.”
“Whatever happened to you, you seemed to have come out of it okay.”
“Give yourself a chance and one of these days I might be saying that to you.”
“What, that I came out of it okay?”
“That you seemed to have.”
Judd narrowed his gaze and studied Griff. “Run that by me again?”
“Nothing will ever be the same again. Accept that fact. But you can recover enough to become a productive member of society. You can enjoy life again. You can learn to put the past behind you.”
“Right now, I’m not even sure I can do that.”
“At least you’re thinking about it.” Griff wanted to ask Judd why the change of heart. What had prompted him to talk to Yvette. Besides the fact that Judd would probably lie to him, Griff figured he already knew the answer.
Beverly Barton 3 Book Bundle Page 59