Reyn tensed. “Why do you say that?”
George grunted as if the answer were obvious. Reyn’s thinking was on the same track, but he wanted to hear George confirm his suspicions.
“Think about it,” George growled. “She had to be protectin’ him, if she wasn’t telling who he was. He never stepped forward to claim either her or his kid. That had to be the reason why.”
“What if he lived out of town? Or went to college and she didn’t tell him?” Even as Reyn spoke, George was shaking his head.
“Naw. He was married.”
Reyn’s mind raced forward. “Gram said Mom was ready to tell. She was going to confront my father, and tell me about him but that she died before she could. Gram thinks whoever he is, that he killed Mom to keep her quiet. And if he was married…”
“It all fits.” Hannah nodded slowly.
“That still leaves a lot of possibilities. Are you sure you don’t have any idea who—”
“I never said I didn’t know who he was. Just that she never told me. I figured it out. When he started killin’ people—your mom, the sheriff—”
“The sheriff?” Adrenaline shot through Reyn’s veins. “Olivia’s father?”
George nodded. “Made it look like a hunting accident, just like he burned your house to cover your mother’s murder. But Crenshaw was onto him, so he killed the sheriff before his investigation could uncover the evidence needed to make an arrest.”
A moment passed before Reyn broke the silence. “Who? Who is my father? Who killed my mother?”
“Horton.” George grimaced. “I know I should’ve said something when I figured out it was him but, hell…he’d already killed twice, and I had a family to protect. So I kept quiet.”
An odd combination of icy grief and blazing fury tangled inside Reyn.
“George,” Hannah whispered, her eyes wide and full of tears.
The older man turned to her now. “I’m going to turn myself in, Hannah. I can’t live with the guilt anymore. He’s gotta be stopped.” George pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll try to make a deal with the D.A., but I might have to do time, even with my testimony. I hid knowledge of two murders.”
Hannah bent her head, and her shoulders shook as she cried.
Reyn’s chest squeezed. Logically, he knew he wasn’t responsible for Hannah’s grief, yet he still felt the pull of guilt for having stirred up this hornet’s nest.
“Hannah, Reyn saved our little girl. I owe him this.” George Russell’s voice broke, and Reyn glanced away, struggling to keep his own composure.
“When you and Crenshaw’s daughter started askin’ questions, I tried to warn you things could get nasty. Knew you were pokin’ into somethin’ that could get you killed, but you wouldn’t let it rest.”
“He killed Olivia’s father too. She deserves to know.”
George nodded. “On my way to the sheriff’s office, I’ll stop by her place and tell her.”
“No, I will.” Reyn stood and started for the door. He stopped with his hand on the knob. “Thank you. For telling me the truth.”
Russell shook his head and looked at the little girl asleep on the bed. “No, thank you.”
As Reyn cracked open the motel room door, George’s fire department pager started beeping. He sighed. “Duty calls.”
Olivia jolted when Hank’s pager went off on the kitchen counter behind her.
Katy giggled at her sister’s nervous gasp. “It’s just Daddy’s beeper, silly.”
She forced a grin for Katy’s sake as she scooted her chair back and headed from the kitchen to find Hank. “Yeah, silly me. Finish your breakfast, squirt. Gloria will be here soon.”
Silly me, thinking I could save Reyn from his ghosts. Silly me, thinking my love was enough for him to open his heart or that he’d care about his own child. Silly, stupid me.
Olivia blinked back the moisture creeping into her eyes and swallowed hard to wash away the ache of tears rising in her throat. She knocked on Hank’s bedroom door but got no answer. Hearing the shower running, she let herself in and went to the bathroom door. “Hank?” she called in through the tiny gap that she opened the door. “Hank, your beeper went off. You’ve gotta go on a call.”
“My beeper?” he answered over the whoosh of water then added an expletive. “All right. Thanks, Liv. Oh, and when I get back, we’re gonna talk about where you were all night.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, we’re not. I’m an adult, Hank. I don’t answer to you anymore.”
The shower cut off. “Olivia.”
She didn’t respond. She didn’t want to talk about last night to anyone. She didn’t want to think about the colossal mistake she’d made, Reyn’s cold rejection of her, the deceptive warmth in his eyes last night when they’d made love. No. Had sex. It was just sex to Reyn.
A fist of despair clutched at her lungs. Who was she kidding? She’d been making love. She loved Reyn. She couldn’t imagine her life without him. But she had to go on without him. He’d made that perfectly clear. On shaky legs, she headed to her room where she sat on her bed, staring blankly at the firemen’s calendar on the opposite wall. She felt sick. Sick with disappointment in herself. Sick with the possibility of facing motherhood alone. Sick with bitter pain for the loss of what she’d believed she had.
I can’t be what you need me to be, Olivia.
Rising on trembling legs, she began changing clothes for work. While she stared into her mirror, absently brushing her hair and remembering Reyn’s avid passion as he joined their bodies, Hank pounded on her door.
“I’m gone on a call, and Katy’s yelling for you. She can’t find her other shoe.”
Olivia sighed. “Okay. Be right there.”
“You all right, Jelly Bean? I was worried about you last night.”
“I’m fine,” she lied. In truth, she was bone tired and heartsick, but her family needed her. She couldn’t let them down. Jamming her feet in a pair of sneakers, she headed out to the living room to look for Katy’s missing shoe. “Where’d you leave it, squirt?”
“I don’t know.” Katy gave her a dramatic shrug and turned her hands palms up.
The doorbell rang, and Olivia groaned. “Coming.” To Katy she said, “Try the laundry room.”
Katy lumbered toward the back room, calling, “Here, shoe.”
Trudging over to the door, Olivia glanced at her watch. She had to get the lead out if she wanted to be on time to work. When she opened the door, she blinked her surprise at finding Vance Horton on her porch. “Mr. Horton? What—”
“Is Hank here?” the man interrupted. He seemed agitated. Could it be about the call that came in on Hank’s beeper? Horton should have been paged too.
“He just left on a fire department call. Why aren’t you—”
“Good.” Horton gave her a strange, crooked smirk.
“Is something wrong, Mr. H—”
He grabbed her arm and yanked her outside.
“What are you doing?”
He dragged her behind him as he lurched down the front porch steps. Her pack of strays jumped to their feet and barked at the visitor. “We have some unfinished business, Claire.”
Olivia stumbled along behind him, splashing through large puddles and trying to free her arm from his vise-like grip. His strange behavior puzzled her. “Claire? My name’s Olivia. I—”
Then it clicked. Olivia’s heart rose to her throat. Ice sluiced through her veins. Unfinished business. Claire.
“You killed Reyn’s mother! You think I’m…” Panic swelled in her chest, and she fought wildly for release. “No!”
“Shut up.” He jerked hard on her arm, almost pulling it from the socket. “I won’t let you tell the world our secret. You’ve been nothing but trouble from the day I laid eyes on you, you Jezebel.”
They were at the door of a white sedan now.
Just like the one that had run her off the road last night.
The dogs, reacting to her distress, were in
a frenzy, nipping at Horton’s heels and barking wildly. Rain poured from the dark clouds, soaking her clothes and chilling her to the bone. Terror washed through her as she met Horton’s cold gaze.
“Get in. We’re going for a little ride.” Horton’s face was a hard mask of hostility.
“Stop!” Olivia screamed as she fought him.
He shoved her into the front seat with a hard thrust and followed her inside the car. He held her arm as he pushed her into the passenger seat. Olivia tried to open the passenger-side door. It was locked, and the lock release button by the window was broken off. Her mind scrambled for another means of escape.
But before she could do more than say a silent prayer, Horton threw the car in gear and raced out of the driveway, spraying gravel behind them.
Chapter Fifteen
Vance Horton was his father.
Reyn squeezed the steering wheel as he drove his truck over the rain-drenched roads toward Olivia’s house. Knowing the truth should make him feel something, yet he was numb. Stunned. Too busy examining all the angles and implications as the pieces of his history fell into place.
Vance Horton. The man who’d dogged him all through his years in elementary school, as if waiting for him to screw up. The man he’d watched arguing with his wife on several occasions. The man who’d come by the house the same afternoon his mother died.
It made sense now. Why hadn’t he seen it sooner? Horton had been the last one to see his mother alive. Obviously their meeting had been confrontational, between Horton’s report of Reyn’s latest infraction at school and his mother’s intention to tell the world about Horton’s paternity. And Horton, as a volunteer fireman and knowing Reyn’s penchant for playing with matches, would know just how to set a fire that would look accidental.
Finally, the numbness began to wear off, and a white-hot rage filled his veins. Horton had neglected him, his son. Horton had killed his mother. And Horton had led the campaign to drive Reyn out of town, condemning him for the fire that killed his mother. Perhaps it was just as well he hadn’t known his father growing up. Knowing how the man had rejected and hounded him cut a deep swath through his soul. How could a man spurn his own child so coldly?
Immediately he thought of his own cruel words to Olivia that morning when she’d told him she could be pregnant. But he’d been shocked, confused, wanting to push her away. Well, he’d succeeded. Too well. He’d probably lost any chance of making things up to her. But he would try. He had to try.
A large white car, weaving wildly in the oncoming lane, whizzed past him, nearly hitting him, and Reyn released his frustration and pain in a string of obscenities directed toward the reckless driver. Careless driving like that, especially in this downpour, was a surefire way to get someone killed. He’d been on the scene of too many accidents to not know that much.
Pulling into Olivia’s driveway, he tried to shake off the grip of anger. He needed to compose himself before he told Olivia his news. He had to rein in his emotions or risk losing control, breaking down in front of her. That was unthinkable.
As he approached the house, Katy clambered off the porch, lurching toward him on her tiny, braced legs. She waved her arms wildly, near hysterics. Panic grabbed him by the throat.
“Katy, what’s wrong? What are you doing out in the rain?”
“’L-livia. H-help, ’Livia.” Her teeth chattered, and her body shook. She could barely speak through the tears that racked her small body.
“What happened to Olivia?” he nearly shouted, grasping Katy’s shoulders firmly.
“Mr. Horton took her. She s-screamed.”
Dread snaked through his veins. “He took Olivia? When? Which way did they go?”
“Wh-white car. Went that way.” Katy pointed down the driveway and gulped for air between sobs.
The white car he’d seen drunkenly weaving as it raced down the road. He muttered an oath through gritted teeth.
Firmly, he turned Katy to the house and nudged her toward the door. “Go back inside. Call 911 and tell them what happened. Then lock the door and don’t let anyone in. I’ll get Olivia, Katy. I promise.”
A flash of metal caught his eye, and he stooped to pick up the object lying in the puddle near his feet. Olivia’s ladybug pendant. The hair on his nape stood on end.
His heart in his throat, he jumped into his truck. He made a sharp turn on the front lawn and wheeled out of the driveway. Fear for Olivia knotted his gut and pumped adrenaline through his body. He’d only passed that white car a couple minutes ago, but even a couple minutes could be too many. His gut told him Horton intended to kill her.
Olivia had to think of something quickly or Horton would kill her. She had no doubt. His eyes lacked the lucidity that would indicate he was thinking rationally. He’d called her Claire and that alone spoke for the man’s lost grip of reality. But if she could snap him out of the delusional state, maybe she could talk some sense into him, convince him to let her go.
“Mr. Horton, do you know who I am?” she asked, watching the man’s face.
He jerked his gaze toward her, and in doing so caused the car to swerve on the slick road. Olivia fastened her seatbelt then squeezed the armrest, holding on for dear life.
“Of course I know who you are. You’re the bimbo who’s trying to ruin me. You want to tell the town that I had sex with a student. You want to destroy my career. But I won’t let you. You want to tell everyone I’m that boy’s father and rip my marriage apart. I’ve worked hard to get where I am, and I won’t let you spoil everything for me.”
Olivia’s breath backed up in her lungs. “You’re…Reyn’s father?”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t know. You know about Reyn, and you know what I did to Claire.”
Olivia stifled a gasp. “You killed her.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched, and for the first time she noticed the similarity in the hard line of his mouth and Reyn’s. “She was going to talk. Going to tell the boy everything. But then the town would find out. My wife, the school board. I had to shut her up. I never planned to kill her, but she started giving ultimatums. No one tells me what I have to do!”
Olivia tensed. If she could keep him talking, could she get enough information to have him convicted? “What did happen that day? Why did you kill her?”
He hesitated, his face grim. “She called the school. Said she had to see me. Then she started in on me about my obligations to my kid.”
Olivia noted that he referred to Claire as she, not you. Maybe he had some clarity about the situation now.
“Stupid girl thought that I’d toss my family, my job, my reputation out the window and claim her brat? Ha! What a joke.”
Horton glanced at her, drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “She called me the worst mistake she ever made. Me! I was probably the only real man she ever had, but she called me a mistake. She was the mistake. She was the Jezebel.” He huffed and gritted his teeth. “Then she said Reyn was the only good thing to come from her error in judgment.”
Error in judgment. Olivia could relate with that. But Claire had obviously never loved Reyn’s father. She, on the other hand, had fallen heartbreakingly in love with Reyn.
“She told me to do right by Reyn or else,” Horton continued to rant. “She threatened to call Helen, tell her everything, so…so I hit her. She fell against the edge of the table and didn’t get up. For a minute I thought she was dead, and I panicked. Then I realized how much easier my life would be if she was dead, so I carried her to her bed and…”
When he stopped, Olivia whispered, “Lit a candle in Reyn’s room. Held it up to the curtains.”
He didn’t deny it. She was right. Oh Reyn, all these years he’d blamed himself, wondered if he’d left the candle burning. Her heart felt heavy, and tears pricked her eyes.
“And now…you’re trying to destroy me too.” The bitterness and accusation in his tone chilled her to the bone.
Stay calm.
“No. Mr. Horton, nobody’
s trying to destroy you. If you turn yourself in, I’m sure you could get a reduced charge and—”
“Never! I’ve come this far without anyone knowing what that wench did to me, what she made me do, and I won’t go to prison for it now.” He glared at her with a wild expression, like that of a trapped animal. An animal was always the most dangerous when cornered. Fear sat like a rock in her stomach and dampened her palms. She took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind and deciding how to reason with an irrational man.
“If you let me go, it would be a sign of good faith on your part, and I’m sure the sheriff would—”
“The sheriff?” He squinted a chilling look at her. “The sheriff is dead. I made sure of that after he started poking around and asking questions.”
An icy shiver crept up her spine. “You…you killed Sheriff Anders?”
Horton scowled. “Anders? Hell, no. His name’s Crenshaw. But no one knows I did it, ’cause I made sure it looked like an accident.”
Olivia gasped. Oh, God. Her father?
The noise drew his attention, and he glared at her with dark speculation in his eyes. “He was getting too close to the truth. I had no choice.”
Horrified shock rendered her mute. Surely she’d heard him wrong.
“You should have left well enough alone, girl. Now I have to make sure you can’t talk either.”
An odd buzzing rang in her ears, and she thought she might throw up. Her father. Claire. And she would be next if she didn’t think fast. She forced her voice to work, strained though it was. “If you kill me, Reyn will figure out what happened. He’s already on to you. He’ll go to the police and—”
His bitter laugh cut her off. She felt the tires slip as he took a curve too fast, and she grabbed the door handle tighter.
“Reyn? That’s who the town will think killed you. A lovers’ spat gone bad.”
Olivia swallowed the panic that threatened to choke her. She had to stay calm if she was going to have a prayer of getting away. The man wavered between past and present, clearly confused, obviously desperate, definitely deadly.
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