Sandy glanced up and gave him a faint smile. “Good evening, Tom."
He surveyed her face for some hint of how she was feeling, but saw nothing. Her eyes looked glazed and her face reminded him of a glass-faced doll with a frozen expression. She appeared on the verge of collapse. He wondered if Angie had noticed and decided he'd mention it to her later. He clapped his hands together. “Have you ladies had dinner?"
Angie shook her head. “No. Marty is preparing it now."
“Damn.” He snapped his fingers. “I should have called. I'm sure you'd have enjoyed getting out of the confines of your luxurious prison for awhile."
Sandy shot him a look of fear. “No, we're fine. It's wonderful here."
Tom shrugged and glanced at Angie. She patted him on the back. “We'll get together another evening. You join us tonight."
He grinned, thinking of Marty's delicious cooking. “I'd love to, but are you sure Marty's prepared for a guest?"
“I'll check.” She quickly excused herself and headed for the kitchen, then returned within a few seconds. “No problem, she said. Especially since it's that nice Mr. Hoffman."
Tom rubbed his hands together in anticipation and went to the bar. “Okay, ladies. What can I fix you?"
Angie worked a loose wisp of hair back into her braid. “Before we indulge, I need to speak with you privately for a few minutes. Let's go into the living room."
Tom followed her, and when she spilled the story of the report from Dr. Parker about Melinda not being Bud's daughter, he understood the tension he felt in the household. She also related how she'd told Sandy that Melinda could well be Ken Weber's daughter.
“How'd she take it?"
She shook her head slowly. “Not well. I debated about telling her, but couldn't stand the thought of her hearing it from some stranger."
“Did you talk to Marty too?"
“Yes. She also took it rather hard. I told her I never wanted Melinda on the premises again."
After dinner, the three went into the study for an after-dinner drink. Sandy had remained silent through most of the dinner. She headed for the couch, which Tom figured must be her regular spot. He took the large leather chair across the room, so he could watch her face.
“Sandy, I know you're concerned and worried. If you'll let me, maybe I can help.” He noticed that she had such a grip on her glass that her knuckles had turned white.
“My girls keep calling and asking me lots of questions."
“For instance?"
“Why I'm at the Nevers’ and not home with Dad."
“So what do you tell them?"
Angie slipped quietly into a chair between them.
“I said their dad and I had an argument and I'm staying with Angie for a while."
“Your daughters are eighteen years old. Don't you think you should tell them the truth?"
“She jerked her head up and stared at him. “No! They couldn't handle it."
“I think you're underestimating them. What's going to happen if they find out from a stranger that their father is involved in a murder investigation and possibly has a grown daughter?"
Sandy's hand shook so hard that Angie reached over and removed the glass from between her fingers. “Tom's right. You should tell the girls the truth, before someone else does."
Dark streaks of mascara, blended with tears, slid down Sandy's cheeks. “I'm so ashamed. I can't.” She glanced up at Angie with a ray of hope in her eyes. “Will you tell them?"
Angie knelt beside the sobbing woman. “Sandy, you're their mother. They need to hear it from you. It will be an embarrassing situation for you and the girls, but there's nothing for you to be ashamed about. Let the twins know how you feel. It will only help them realize the seriousness of the problem."
“No! No!” she cried. “It will hurt them too much."
Angie put an arm around her shoulders. “Don't blame yourself for Ken's behavior. He's a grown man. What he did is his own fault, not yours, nor the girls'."
“He's destroyed our family. Why did he do this?” she moaned.
Tom took advantage of the moment. “Sandy, why would Ken need money?"
She dabbed her eyes and glanced at him, puzzled. “Everything else has gone to hell, but financially, we're doing fine. Why do you ask such a question?"
“The company's accounting books show someone's been skimming off the top. They're in the hands of an auditor right now. Can you think of any reason why Ken would take money from the company?"
Sandy flopped back against the couch, her eyes searching the ceiling. “Oh dear God, now he's an embezzler? Next, they'll find out he murdered Bud and Ryan Conners."
Angie gasped and jumped up, her hand at her throat. “Don't say such a thing."
Sandy grabbed Angie's hands and wailed. “It's gone through my head. Ken's changed so much. The man I once loved and married has turned into a monster. I'm so frightened."
Angie pulled away and stepped back, staring at her.
Tom hurried across the room and guided Angie to a chair. He felt a bit uncomfortable with two emotional women. How did he reassure them when that accusation had been circulating around the station? He didn't want to lie, but he wasn't about to tell them of the police's suspicions. “Look, we have no evidence leading to Ken as a suspect in the murders."
Suddenly, Sandy's eyes narrowed and bored into Tom's. “Do you even have a suspect?"
Tom shrugged. “Well, no. Not at the moment.” He felt a stab of uneasiness as both women turned their gaze on him.
Sandy rose unsteadily from her seat. “I think I'll call it a night.” She extended her hand to Tom. “Strange. I feel better than I've felt in days. At least I've said all the horrible things that have been going through my mind. I feel like a huge burden's been lifted from my shoulders.” She put her hand out to Tom. “Thanks for letting me say them."
He squeezed her hand. “You're going to get through this. Have a good night's rest."
She actually smiled, then reached up and kissed him on the cheek.
After Sandy left the room, Tom went to the bar, mixed himself a stiff drink, then, putting his arm across his waist, made a stiff bow toward Angie. “Can I fix you something, Madame?"
She walked over to bar and pointed at the gin. “Yes sir. My favorite, please.” Leaning on the bar, she watched as Tom mixed the drink. “Do you really think she believes Ken killed Bud and Ryan Conners?"
He handed her the glass. When her fingers grazed his, a sensation like an electric shock went up his arm. He quickly picked up his own drink, hoping she didn't notice any reaction. “She's very distraught,” he said. “I can just imagine the things going through her head."
Angie nodded, closed the study door, then sauntered over to the couch.
Tom joined her. “So how are you doing? You've hardly had time to grieve."
“I'm doing fine. I am a bit concerned how Melinda will take the news that Bud isn't her dad."
Tom got up and paced the room, rubbing the back of his neck. “Every time you tell me about this Melinda, I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach."
“You don't have to tell me that,” she said. “I know the feeling."
“Do you think Marty will tell her before you have the chance?"
She shrugged. “I don't know. I indicated to Marty that I want nothing more to do with the girl."
“Even though you feel pretty certain she won't let her in the gate, Marty is her mother and she'll more than likely talk to her over the phone.
“What types of communication she works out with her daughter is none of my business. As long as I don't have to deal with her."
Tom scratched his sideburn. “I wonder how much contact Bud had with the girl?"
“I can't answer that one.” She shook her head. “Except that Melinda didn't know she had a father in the area until recently. Marty always referred to him as her benefactor until just a short time ago when she finally disclosed his name to Melinda. So, it doesn't sound l
ike the girl knew him at all."
Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out the pictures he'd removed from the album. Angie watched him with curiosity
“However, that doesn't mean Bud didn't keep an eye on her from a distance throughout the years.” He explained where the pictures had come from, before sitting down beside her.
Her eyes grew misty as she fingered each photo. “What a beautiful child,” she whispered. “And to think all these years he thought she was his.” When she finished going through the photos, she leaned back against the couch and dabbed at her eyes. “How I would have loved to raise her."
“Where do you think Bud got these pictures? Do you think he took them himself?"
She handed them back. “Oh, I doubt it. More than likely Marty gave him snapshots each year. If for no other reason than to prove she was using the money wisely."
“You don't think he hired someone to take them?"
“Why should he when he had the mother right here on the premises?"
He nodded. “You've got a point. So the secret's kept safe."
She turned and looked at him. “Except for Ken Weber."
Tom frowned. “How would he know unless Bud told him? Marty certainly wouldn't have disclosed anything, especially with Bud paying the bills."
“Ken told me he'd known since the day Marty discovered her pregnancy. But he never told Sandy until I asked him about Melinda."
Tom remained silent for a few moments, then asked, “When Bud told you there were problems at work, did he ever give you the impression that he didn't trust Ken?"
Angie waved a hand in the air. “Never."
* * *
Chapter Twenty-two
Sometime during the still dark hours of the early morning, Angie awoke with a start. She lay quietly, listening to the sounds of the house. What had awakened her? It sounded like a door slamming. Suddenly, she heard a car engine revving. Jumping out of bed, she rushed to the window and peered out.
Frantically, she waved her arms and screamed. “Sandy. No!” Throwing on her robe, she raced down the stairs and out the front door. Hugging the porch post, she watched the car crest the hill and disappear.
She dashed back inside and called the gate, but the officer informed her that the car had already driven through. Trembling, she keyed in the number of Tom's cell phone. A sleepy voice came over the line.
“Yeah."
“Tom, this is Angie. Sandy just left in her car."
He suddenly sounded more alert. “When?"
“Just now. I didn't wake up in time to stop her."
“I was afraid she'd do something like this after seeing her last night. She's teetering on the edge."
Angie shoved wisps of hair out of her face. “We've got to find her before Ken does."
“Did she leave a note?"
Glancing at the stairwell, her gaze traveled toward the guest room. “I don't know. Hold on.” She dashed up the stairs two at a time. When she reached the room and flung open the door, she gasped. Everything had been left in perfect order. With the room right next to hers, how could she not have heard Sandy moving about?
A white sheet of paper propped against a perfume bottle on the dresser caught her eye. She snatched it up and read aloud as she hurried down the stairs.
Dear Angie,
I've worn out my welcome. It's time for me to leave so you'll have time to handle your own problems. You don't need me to add to that burden. I'll be all right. Thank you so much for all you've done.
Love, Sandy
She grabbed the phone and read the note to Tom. “What are we going to do?"
“It doesn't give a clue where she's headed."
“Maybe she went to her mother's."
“I'd like to believe that. But I'm afraid she's gone to confront Ken. And that could be dangerous."
Angie leaned her forehead on her hand. “Don't you think she'd be afraid to go back home?"
“She's not thinking rationally. Unfortunately, at this point in time, she wants to satisfy herself by finding out the truth."
“But Ken could kill her."
“I want you to stay by the phone in case she tries to call. I'll get in touch with you later."
“Tom, wait.” She grabbed the edge of the counter. “What are you going to do?"
“I'm going to see if I can find her."
The line went dead. Angie dropped the receiver back on the cradle. Her gaze drifted upward to the large photo adorning the wall. She'd always loved that picture of her, Bud, Ken and Sandy, standing in front of the new Nevers building. They all had their hands on the huge pair of scissors that cut the ribbon, celebrating the opening of the new building. That was ten years ago. Bud had his arm tightly around her with an ecstatic expression on his face. His dream had finally come true.
Tears clouded her sight and her chest tightened as the memories flooded her mind. At that instant, the phone rang. Her senses jerked back to the present and she grabbed the receiver. “Sandy!"
“No, it's Tom. I've just circled the Weber house. No sign of her. Is she still driving that dark green BMW?"
“Yes."
“Can you think of anywhere else she might go at this time?"
Angie rubbed her temple and glanced up at the clock. “Not at five thirty in the morning."
Tom's voice dropped. “Hold on. There's a car coming down the road. I think it's Sandy. It is. I'll talk to you later."
The phone clicked, then a dial tone droned. “Tom! Hello. Don't hang up. Damn!” Exhaling loudly, she dropped the phone, ran upstairs and hurriedly dressed.
* * * *
The first set of headlights flashed through Marty's bedroom, causing her to roll over and groan. But fifteen minutes later, when the second set lit up the room, she stirred from sleep. She squinted at the clock. “What the hell's going on at this ungodly hour of the morning?” she mumbled. She went to the window and parted the curtains. Seeing only the taillights of a car disappear over the hill, she shrugged into her robe while shuffling out onto the small porch. Looking toward the big house, she noticed that Mrs. Weber's car had disappeared. The light in the garage hadn't turned off yet and she could see that Mrs. Nevers’ car was also gone.
“Oh dear,” she said aloud. “Looks like there's been some sort of an emergency."
She dressed quickly and ran over to the big house where she found the kitchen ablaze with lights. Hurrying up the stairs, she discovered Angie's robe and gown on the floor. “Yep, something's happened,” she muttered, heading back down the staircase. The first thing that popped into her mind were the bits and pieces of conversation she'd picked up from the two women about Mr. Weber. She'd already figured the Webers were having marital problems, but from the tidbits of gossip she'd heard from other housekeepers, there was more. It seemed Mr. Weber had gotten himself into a heap of big trouble. What kind, she'd never understood. But something had taken place this morning, and she'd bet whatever it was, wasn't right.
While making biscuit dough, she thought about how much better she felt about her own situation than she had in months. Marty knew she had to make a very hard decision soon. Either go with her daughter and live a life of hell, or live in peace on the Nevers’ property in her beloved cottage. The latter would be her choice if Mrs. Nevers gave her the option. She'd probably lose the love of her daughter. However, she pondered if Melinda really knew what love meant? As much as she hated to believe it, her only child had turned evil.
She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the bar while the biscuits baked. Finding out that Bud wasn't Melinda's daddy shook had shaken her up a bit. Were those tests that accurate? It amazed her how technology had soared in her short time on earth. Why hadn't she observed the mean streak in Melinda earlier? Mr. Nevers wasn't mean. He wouldn't have hurt a fly.
But Ken Weber proved to be a different type of man. She'd noticed his mood swings when he visited the Nevers’ home, especially after he'd been drinking. Before Sandy came into the picture, he'd flirte
d with her several times, trying to entice her into bed. However, she knew he'd never settle for a housemaid and would only be using her for his own desires, so she turned him down.
How had Ken managed sex with her that night without her knowing? She must have been out cold with too much champagne.
Tom pulled to the side of the road about a half block from the Weber's home, where he could still see the front of the house. He turned off his lights and watched. Sandy had stopped, but not mustered up the courage to actually get out of the car. In his mind's eye, he pictured her fear. He prayed she'd chicken out.
The faint light of the dawning day made it possible for him to make out the silhouette of her head. Her gaze appeared fixed on the front door. How could he prevent her from entering her own home?
Suddenly, Angie's Cadillac screeched around the corner and came to a sudden halt behind Sandy. She jumped out and headed for the driver's side of the BMW. At the same moment, the porch light came on and Ken Weber stepped out the front door. Tom hit the gas pedal and lurched forward.
Sandy and Angie were standing outside the car on the driver's side, watching Ken as he came to the edge of the property and stopped. He folded his arms across his chest. “About time you decided to come home."
Angie gripped Sandy's arm and whispered. “You can't go into that house. You might not come out alive."
“I've got to find out the truth or I'm going to lose my mind.” She yanked away from Angie and started around the car.
Tom ran up behind her. “Just a minute, Sandy."
Ken stared at him as he put his hand out toward his wife. “Why don't you and Angie stay out of our lives?"
Tom grabbed Sandy's arm and pulled her out of Ken's reach. “There's a restraining order out on you, Mr. Weber,” he lied. “You're to stay away from your wife."
Ken's arm dropped to his side. “That's ridiculous. I don't believe it. Even if it's so, nothing says she can't come to me."
Sandy stood quietly listening.
“I think she just wants to ask you some questions. She can do that from this side of the fence.” Tom glanced at Sandy. “Wouldn't that be possible?"
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