Emily reeled. Once she had found out the student had been sleeping with Jean-Marc, she’d been furious. She hadn’t wanted to have anything to do with the woman she had privately called everything from a slut to a witch. But a suicide attempt? The poor girl.
There had to have been some imbalance there. Either that or she had truly believed herself in love.
Something had to be done. Jean-Marc couldn’t go on hurting women, chewing them up and then discarding them as though they were apple cores.
Something had to be done. Something...
She couldn’t leave this alone.
The scene in the sheriff’s office the other morning flashed. She thought of all of those young girls fighting back, of the courage they’d shown, especially Iris.
No way was she asking Penny to take care of this.
Emily would take care of it herself, would pay Jean-Marc back for all of those years he had treated her badly.
She was going to have to go back to the Sudan, to Jean-Marc, the last person on this earth she ever wanted to see again.
“Good news?” Laura asked.
“The best.” It really was. Look at the positive. She had a chance to right years’ worth of wrongs, and stop a man from hurting anyone else—just as they’d done with Justin—and she would take it. But, first, she had to finish rescuing the man she loved.
* * *
EARLY THURSDAY MORNING, Emily went to visit Salem. She’d been bothered by something her dad had said. It had eaten away at her, rubbing like a stone in her shoe.
“Emily.” Salem stood when he saw her. He was clean, his hair glossy, combed and braided. He wore the fresh clothes Emily had delivered for court, black dress pants and a white dress shirt. She drank in every detail.
“How did you manage to wash your hair in that tiny sink?”
He approached the bars and curled his fingers around hers. “I didn’t. John Spade finagled it so Deputy Breslin could take me to the B and B and supervise while I showered.”
“Ew. Matt had to watch while you showered?”
“No. John paid for the top-floor suite. Breslin sat in the bedroom while I showered. The window was too small for me to climb through and the ground too far below for me to jump. Not that I would have. And not that Matt thought I would. Sheriff White was just covering his ass.”
“We need to talk.” Emily lowered her voice. The last thing she wanted was for White to hear this conversation. “What are you hiding? Why didn’t you want my dad to hire an investigator?”
Salem swung away, leaning his hands against the cement wall. “We’re back to that? For God’s sake, Emily, let it go.”
“I can’t. What do you know?”
“Nothing.”
She thought of her dad’s suspicion. “Do you know who did it?”
His flinch was so subtle she almost missed it.
“You do know,” she hissed. “And you’re not telling?”
He came back to her. “I don’t know. I’m only guessing.”
“Is it a likelihood? An educated guess?”
He shrugged.
“Ooh, don’t do that. Don’t do that sphinx thing again. Not now. If these bars weren’t in my way, I’d wring your neck.”
“I’ve told you all I’m going to.”
“Then I’ll have to find out on my own, and then I’m going to tell the sheriff my suspicions. Do you know why?”
Salem looked as if he’d bitten into something sour. “Why?”
“Because I can’t stand to see you in here. Because it’s tearing me apart.” Her voice had risen and she tempered her tone. “Because it’s the right thing to do, just as telling Sheriff White about his son was the right thing for Aiyana to do. She showed real courage, Salem, on your behalf. She deserves to see you set free. I’m going to find out who did this.”
“Don’t.”
She walked away. Outside, she called her dad.
“He knows who did it and won’t say.” Her voice caught. Damn the man. She loved Salem and she wanted to rescue him, but how could she when the darn man wouldn’t allow himself to be rescued? She paced the sidewalk in front of the sheriff’s office. “How is the P.I. doing? Any leads?”
“He thinks he has an idea, but won’t name names without proof. He’s still working on it.”
“Okay, thanks, Dad.”
She didn’t want to lose Salem’s respect over this, but it was a chance she would have to take. The true criminal needed to be behind bars instead of the man she loved.
* * *
EMILY CHECKED THE driveway again for the fortieth time since Aiyana and Mika had come home from school, hoping that John Spade might drop Salem off. The bail hearing had been today and Emily had still heard nothing. On tenterhooks and afraid to hope, she’d called Spade’s cell a dozen times and left messages because the blasted man wasn’t picking up.
Why hadn’t he called her back? Did that mean they were still in court? What if the judge denied bail? Was Salem back in jail? What if bail was set so high Salem couldn’t afford it? Should she call her dad?
“Emily?” Aiyana and Mika sat on the sofa side by side.
“Yes, Aiyana?”
“Can you stop pacing? I’m getting dizzy watching you.”
The girls had gone to school, but Aiyana had called Emily between classes to find out if her father was home.
Emily fell into an armchair. “What do you two want for dinner?” She had no desire to cook or to eat, but she had to make an effort for the girls.
They shrugged, looking as anxious as Emily felt. They weren’t interested in food, either.
The front door opened. Had Mr. Pearce finally come home from the reservation?
They heard footsteps in the foyer and then Salem stepped into the living room with a mile-wide grin on his face.
“Dad!” Aiyana and Mika screamed and converged on him. They hugged and kissed their dad, and laughed.
“Salem.” Now that he was here in all his handsome, quiet glory, Emily’s brain flat-out stopped working.
“How did this happen?” Emily absorbed the happiness around her. Salem’s face glowed while he held his girls. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply as though inhaling the essence of his family. “Why didn’t John call?”
“I asked him not to. I wanted to surprise all of you.” When he stared at her over his daughters’ heads, there was no sign of the sphinx, only his intense smoldering. It would have to wait for later when they had a private moment, or two, or a million.
“When is the trial set to start?”
“Not until August, so I have time to mount a defense.”
“I’m so happy you’re here, Dad.” Aiyana curled her arms around him. “We’ll worry about the future later. Tonight, we need to celebrate your freedom and have fun.”
Mika ran to get her camera and Salem held open one arm. Emily stepped into his embrace, crowding Aiyana to touch as much of him as she could. She sensed the camera’s flash going off, but wouldn’t let go of the man she loved. Come hell or high water, he was just going to have to accept that he was hers. He might smolder and they might make love—they would make love—but he had to also understand that he could trust her when she said she would never leave him again.
Mika jumped onto Salem’s back. He pretended to stagger under her weight.
Aiyana released him. “Are you hungry, Dad?”
“Yes, starving, but more for your company than for food. I should eat at some point, though.”
They agreed, but no one stopped hugging him, as though terrified he would disappear from their lives again if they didn’t hold him tightly enough. Emily certainly didn’t want to break contact, not after all the time Salem had been out of her reach and under Sheriff White’s miserable watchful eye.
>
Salem kissed his daughters’ foreheads. “I missed you so much.”
Reaching for Emily, he embraced her and whispered, “Later.”
What he meant by that, Emily wasn’t sure, but she was open to anything, everything, with this man. She had her own plans for later, and Salem was just going to have to fall in line.
He looked different. Emily wasn’t sure how, but the experience had changed him.
He frowned. “Why is it so quiet in here? Where’s that machine Emily bought?”
She moved away and fussed with the karaoke machine.
“Put in the ’50s CD.” Salem hovered near her shoulder.
She did.
“Do you want us to sing? Come on, girls.”
“No!” he shouted then continued at a lower volume. “Sit down. All of you on the sofa. I have something to share with you.”
He hit a button and Elvis Presley’s signature drum opening of “Jailhouse Rock” erupted. Emily and the girls exchanged puzzled glances. Their dad was going to sing Elvis?
Then he broke into song and their mouths dropped open.
Salem sang with authority and a sexy rasp, and...holy relics...could he move his hips!
They screamed and jumped up to join him, bopping about like maniacs while Salem killed the song. Absolutely killed it.
When he finished, Mika and Aiyana flung themselves at him.
“You never told us you could sing.”
“How could you keep this from us?”
“More, Dad.”
“Sing something else.”
He ran through a repertoire of ’50s and ’60s rock. Feeling high and happier than she’d ever been, Emily was the only one who heard the front door open and saw Mr. Pearce enter the house, expression solemn.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE MUSIC STOPPED abruptly and they came to a halt, their dancing interrupted by the sudden silence.
Mr. Pearce stood beside the karaoke machine. He’d turned off the music. A movement at the doorway to the hall alerted Emily to the presence of two men she didn’t recognize.
“Grandpa, you’re home.” Mika threw her arms around her grandfather, oblivious to the other two men in the room, and the tension emanating from her father, the happy ease of the past twenty minutes dissipating like steam.
Emily, on the other hand, along with Salem, knew something big was going on. One of the men was tall and confident. Despite jeans, a cowboy shirt and cowboy boots, this man meant business. He might resemble a good old boy with his mustache and cowboy hat pushed to the back of his head, but he was dead serious about something. Her father’s private investigator, Emily guessed.
The other man, quiet and at least a foot shorter, had lived many years. His shoulders hunched forward and his gnarled hands curled in on themselves, the arthritic knuckles swollen and misshapen. The bones of his Native American heritage lurked beneath a dried apple face.
Emily knew. “It’s him, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” That one word came out of Salem with difficulty, the admission dragged out of him like a deep-rooted molar unwilling to give up the fight.
Good, Emily thought. “It’s time to put an end to this misunderstanding.”
Salem didn’t respond.
“Who is he?” Emily asked, because everyone was waiting for Salem to move on this and he wasn’t. Emily wanted him absolved now.
“Annie’s father.” Salem stepped toward the old man.
“He looks more like her grandfather.”
“She was the late child of his second wife.”
Mika and Aiyana had been standing silently, but approached their maternal grandfather. The sense Emily was picking up was that they didn’t know him as well, but the affection was there. They moved easily into his arms.
“Hello, granddaughters. Have you been good girls?”
Mr. Pearce introduced both men to Emily and the P.I. to Salem. “Do you know why I brought them here, Salem?”
“I can guess, Dad.”
“You can’t take responsibility for a crime you didn’t commit.”
“But we can’t send Ansel to jail.”
Emily moved to stand in front of him. “Salem, if he committed the crime, he needs to face the consequences.”
“Listen to your woman.” The man’s voice was as thin and creaky as his body. “This is right. Your father came to me at the reservation. He told me they arrested you. That is wrong.”
“But—”
“Salem, Annie was my child. It was my responsibility to teach her to protect herself. To make the right decisions in life. I failed her. Getting rid of that pestilence, Caleb, was the only way to avenge my daughter’s dignity. He killed my child. I killed him. Now I will go to the police.”
The pain on Salem’s face became Emily’s. He loved this old man. Further, it was obvious he respected him, even knowing that he’d committed murder.
“Stop protecting me, Salem.” Ansel rested his ancient hands on his son-in-law’s shoulders. “Stop feeling guilty. Annie’s death was not your fault. I saw how you treated my daughter with respect. I saw how you raised her daughters with love. I honor you.”
To the private investigator, he said, “Let’s go. I’m tired. I need to get to that jail cell to lie down.”
Before he left, he turned to Salem. “Make peace with your woman here. She wants only what’s best for you. She is right. You don’t belong in jail. I do.” He included the rest of the room in his next statement. “I have lived a good life, long and happy. I’m near the end. This will not hurt me. Nothing can hurt me more than Annie’s death. Be at peace. I am. I will see her soon with my two wives.”
At the front door, he turned back to Salem. “Tomorrow morning, you come to the jail and bring me those cinnamon buns you always brought to the reservation. That will make me happy.”
“Yes, I can do that.” Salem’s voice trembled, but he managed to smile.
After the private investigator drove off with Ansel, presumably heading to the sheriff’s office, Mr. Pearce said, “This is a bittersweet moment. I’m sorry Ansel will end his life in this way, but he committed a serious crime. We heard what he said and we must respect it. He is at peace.”
He gestured to Aiyana. “Give me your phone, eh? We’re ordering pizza. Tonight, we celebrate.”
Salem stared out of the window long after Emily knew the car was gone. “Dad, I don’t know if I can celebrate right now.”
“I had many discussions with Ansel. Don’t worry on his account. He is at peace.” He stood beside his son. “Take it from me. He won’t suffer long in that jail. I don’t think he’ll last until any court dates they set.”
“I sensed something. What is it? Cancer?”
“Yes. He’s eighty-nine. He’s in pain. He’s happy to go. We’ll celebrate his life, eh?”
* * *
“WHERE DID YOU learn all of those songs?” Emily asked as she walked to her car beside Salem. He finally had her alone and wrapped his arm around her. He’d been like this all evening, touching her at every opportunity, just to experience the pure pleasure of having the freedom to do so.
Aiyana and Mika had already gone to bed with smiles on their faces, happy to have him home again. His dad was right. Tonight was for celebration. Soon enough, they would grieve at a funeral.
“That music was decades before our time,” Emily said.
“My mom loved it. She used to play it and dance around the house while she was supposed to be doing laundry or cooking dinner. I guess I absorbed it by osmosis.”
The night around them shimmered with moonlight, and Salem was free for good. The air smelled sweeter, the stars shone more brightly than he remembered. He thought about Emily’s fiercely whispered promise when he was in jail. I’m never leaving
you again. How’s that for a commitment?
He held her close in his strong grip, and all was right in his world.
“While I lay in that jail cell, I thought of my mother a lot.” Salem’s voice carried on the quiet air. “I had time for thinking. I wondered if her marriage felt like a prison to her, if motherhood made her feel trapped. Maybe that was why she left.”
“She did? I never knew that. Tell me about her.”
“She was so many things,” he said, dredging up memories that might have been better left buried, but he’d learned that nothing good came of hiding things. “You know how sometimes you’re not crazy about a person, you think you have every right to really dislike them, and then they do something so sweet it takes your breath away?”
She nodded.
“That was my mom. She wasn’t like other mothers. Most days I wished she was.” He leaned back against the Jeep and shifted her into his arms, pulling her back against his chest. “She was complicated, but what she was the most was unpredictable. Quicksilver. Some days there would be no dinner on the table because she’d felt like dancing to music all day.
“Then there were all the times she missed my school events—musicals, parent-teacher meetings, assemblies—because she forgot or didn’t feel like it or just had something better to do. The other kids would have their mothers there with them, but not me. Dad would come to the evening things, but often Mom would miss those, too.”
“I had no idea.”
“Why would you know any of this? She died when I was twelve, long before you came to town, but she left us even before that.”
“How did she die?”
“Car accident. She was driving. It was her fault. Thank God she was the only victim.” He cleared clogged emotions from his throat, ancient resentment and anger blocking his development like phlegm. It was time to get rid of it, to acknowledge the bad memories and then move on to revel in the good. “She wasn’t drunk or anything bad. She wasn’t like that. She was probably just not paying attention, just lost in her own world.”
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