Blood Kin

by Judith E. French

  “And word is, he wouldn’t be your first.”

  “That was different.”

  “It always is.”

  The waitress, balancing a full tray, came toward the table. “Need a refill?”

  Daniel shook his head. “Later, maybe.”

  She removed the basket of shrimp shells, the remainder of the cocktail sauce, and the crumpled napkins, and scooped up the twenty. “I’ll be back with your change—”

  “Keep it.”

  “We were talking about what happened in Afghanistan,” Lucas said when the waitress was out of earshot.

  Daniel stiffened. “No, we were talking about old Joe.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “The man was a royal bastard. Whoever killed him should get a medal. What’s your point?”

  “Odd how you up and quit last fall.” Lucas sipped at his beer and made a face. “How can you drink this stuff?”

  “I don’t, usually. I ordered it special for you.”

  “One of these days I’ll return the favor.”

  “It wasn’t me.”

  “I never said it was.”

  “Cut the bullshit,” Daniel said. “I’m out of all this.” But even as he said it, he didn’t believe it. He might not know as many names as the agency suspected he did, but enough to get him killed—or to send a lot of rats scurrying for their holes when the dominoes started falling.

  “Not unless we’re satisfied that we have a clear picture of what happened and why.” Lucas tapped two fingers on the tabletop impatiently.

  “Joe wouldn’t be the first hunter to be mistaken for a duck.”

  “No? Funny how bad luck settles over a place. You had another accident there a few days back, didn’t you? A fire? Or was that a murder-suicide?” Lucas smiled. “And I understand you had the misfortune to discover those bodies as well.”

  “Creed Somers was a drunk who lived in a firetrap. It was bound to happen.”

  “Someone got axed. Not too common an occurrence, even for a backwater like Tawes.”

  “What reason would I have for killing Somers and his girlfriend?”

  Lucas toyed with his napkin. “No need to jump to conclusions, buddy. Did I say you were a suspect?”

  “Take this message back to the agency: I don’t work for them anymore. I didn’t have anything to do with Marshall’s death or Somers’s. And if they expect me to dig up evidence on the senator’s shooting, they can wait until hell freezes over.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  In the week that followed, Bailey fell into a routine of teaching in the morning, and spending afternoons with Will and evenings with Emma and Daniel. The work at the school was challenging, something she looked forward to. One by one she got to know her students, learning about their strengths and weaknesses, their siblings, and their extended families. And every day the friendship she and Cathy shared strengthened.

  Twice Forest contacted her, once by phone and again by note from his Annapolis office to let her know that he’d made progress on securing the deed to Elizabeth’s farm. Settling the estate would mean a lot for Bailey’s future, but it was no longer the most important reason for her remaining on Tawes. Two men had somehow taken center stage in her life—Will Tawes and Daniel Catlin.

  The time spent with her grandfather seemed a gift beyond anything an inheritance could buy. Neither of them wanted to risk opening completely to the other, but hour by hour she found the walls between them crumbling. Often she sat without speaking a word for an hour or more in his studio, watching him carve a fox from a section of seasoned cherry or paint the feathers of an osprey, one by one.

  Once Will took her with him deep into the woods, where they lay motionless on a carpet of moss and watched as a mother fox and her kits came to a stream to drink. The vixen curled up in a patch of sunlight and dozed while the four little ones chased each other, tumbled, and played like puppies.

  Will had brought a camera to take pictures of the wildlife, but he didn’t snap a single shot, fearing that the sound would frighten them away. She sensed that here was a man who had shut himself off from the human world for decades and had turned all his attention to his art. With Bailey, Will was terse of speech but never distant. At his side she found a quiet sense of acceptance and belonging that had always been absent from her life.

  As for Daniel, she found him both intriguing and perplexing. He acted as though he was as attracted to her as she was to him, but he’d made no step toward taking things further than friendship between them. Often, despite Will’s warning to be wary of Daniel, Bailey would stop at the farm to see the progress he was making on the repairs. They’d talk and laugh together, but despite the look in his eye, he hadn’t even tried to kiss her.

  On her second visit to Elizabeth’s after she’d made the breakthrough with Will, she’d summoned strength enough to return to the attic to search the trunk again. She was rewarded by the discovery of several more loose photos inside the pages of the storybooks. Two pictures were of Beth, but one was of a young man. The picture had been taken in poor light, and the boy’s face was in shadow. She’d taken the photo to her grandfather’s the following day, but he hadn’t been able to identify the boy.

  Later that night, at Emma’s, Bailey had shown the picture to the older woman, but she’d been as much at a loss as Will to name the youth. “It could be anyone,” Emma said. “Maybe one of her classmates from school.”

  “This might be Beth’s boyfriend,” Bailey suggested. “Are you certain you don’t recognize him?”

  “Nope. Wish I could help.” Emma handed the snapshot to Daniel. “Anyone you know?”

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Look at the date on the back. I was barely out of diapers when this was taken.”

  Emma removed a pork roast from the oven and set it on the stove to cool a little before slicing. “I hope you two are hungry. I think I got carried away and made enough for an army.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Have you decided what you’re going to do about the horses?”

  “Horses? What horses?” Bailey asked.

  Daniel rolled his eyes. “I guess Will didn’t tell you yet.”

  “Didn’t tell me what?”

  “Elizabeth’s riding horses,” Emma said as she carried a blue pottery bowl of coleslaw to the table. “Jim Tilghman’s older brother is interested in one of them for his girl. I don’t suppose it will be too hard to find a buyer for the other one, not if you don’t ask too much for them.”

  “Forest didn’t say anything about the horses,” Bailey exclaimed. “Will either. I saw two horses in the pasture, but—”

  “They come with the house,” Daniel said with a shrug. “Will’s been taking care of them since Elizabeth died. They were her pride and joy. She loved them like children. I guess Will wanted to take your measure before he told you that you’d inherited those as well.”

  I’ve let this go too far. Bailey is as stubborn as Beth, and as troublesome. She had her chance to leave the island, but instead she remained to pry into things that should have been left buried. I can’t wait any longer. Tawes is already crawling with police and medical investigators. Sooner or later people will begin to pry into Elizabeth’s death, as well.

  She should have known better. I warned her not to leave her farm to Beth’s brat, to let her live out her little life on the mainland, but Elizabeth was always obstinate. The house and land should have been mine. It all should have been mine.

  I went to Elizabeth that night to reason with her, to make her see that what was she was about to do was wrong, that it would only cause more heartache. I never intended that she should die, but she brought it on herself when she slapped me and ordered me to get of the house. What did she expect? That I would allow her to abuse me without striking back?

  I punched her with my fist, harder than I should have. She fell back, hitting her head against the corner of the kitchen table. The blow must have fractured her skull, but she tried to get up. I had to use the pewt
er candlestick on her. By then, I realized that I couldn’t let her live to tell anyone what I’d done.

  Dragging Elizabeth’s unconscious body to the top of the staircase and throwing her down the steps was genius on my part. She tumbled all the way to the bottom, but she always was too stubborn. She didn’t have sense enough to die. She moaned and thrashed until I finished her off with several whacks from an old flatiron.

  The bitch. How was I to know that she’d already made her bequest to Beth’s bastard? And now it’s up to me to finish what I started a long time ago, to carve away every trace of Beth’s shame and make it all right, once and for all.

  Midmorning Friday, Bailey was going over a math concept on negative numbers that several of her students had difficulty understanding when Cathy opened the classroom door and called to her. “Excuse me, but there’s someone here to see you. He says it’s important.”

  “Who is it?” Bailey asked.

  Cathy nodded. “Your Mr. Elliott. I asked him if it could wait until school was dismissed, but he insisted.”

  “All right.” Bailey turned back to her kids. “We’ll finish this Monday. In the meantime, please take out your library books and read quietly in your seats. Ashley, would you take charge for me? I’ll just be a few minutes.”

  “He’s waiting for you in the office.” Cathy rolled her eyes. “Cute, but bossy. He said he was your husband. Didn’t you tell me that you were divorced?”

  “We have been. For years. I wonder what he wants.” Bailey had given her stepmother Forest McCready’s number for use in an emergency. Surely if Dad was ill, someone would have called the attorney’s office. Tracking down Elliott’s unlisted cell number would have been difficult at best.

  She was halfway down the hall when Elliott saw her and came out of the office. “Is something wrong?” she called to him. “Is Dad—”

  “Nothing like that, but we need to talk.” He shoved a copy of a newspaper article at her. The headline read, “Jury Finds Tawes Island Man Guilty.” “This is from the trial thirty-five years ago,” Elliott said. “The great-uncle you’re so anxious to talk to . . . At best he’s an abuser, and at worst . . .”

  Bailey felt her throat and cheeks flush. “This isn’t the time or the place,” she said, fast losing patience with him. “I have class for another forty-five minutes. Go back to Emma’s and wait for me there.” She tried to give him back the paper.

  “Read it,” he insisted.

  “Later. I have fourteen children waiting for me.”

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into?” Elliott demanded as he took hold of her shoulders. “This man was convicted of beating his pregnant niece to death.”

  Bailey stepped back away from him. “Will didn’t do it,” she said sharply. “He’s innocent.”

  “And who told you that? Uncle Will?”

  Cathy opened her classroom door. “Is everything all right?”

  “Fine,” Bailey said. “Go to Emma’s, Elliott. I’ll see you there in an hour.”

  “Be there, Bails, or I’ll come looking for you.”

  The time between Elliott’s abrupt arrival at the school and Bailey’s return home did nothing for either’s mood. He met her at Emma’s gate. “I hope you told them that you’re not coming back,” he said. “I have a boat waiting for us at the dock. I’m taking you with me.”

  She stared at him as though he’d taken leave of his senses. “You can’t come here and give me orders. You didn’t have the right to do it when we were married, and you certainly don’t now.”

  She walked past him into the house and stopped just inside the doorway. Her suitcase stood at the bottom of the steps. “Elliott, have you lost your mind? What would make you think that I’d leave Tawes now? I’ve promised to help out at the school until the end of summer session and—”

  Elliott grabbed her arm. “I don’t know what spell these people have put on you, but—”

  “Let go of me!” She tried to pull free, but he held her fast. “Elliott!”

  “The lady asked you to take your hands off her.” Daniel appeared in the doorway, his tone low and deadly serious.

  “Get lost. This is none of your business,” Elliott said. “And for your information, this lady is my wife.”

  “His ex-wife.” Bailey attempted to pry his hand off her arm. “And I don’t need your help, Daniel. I can deal with this jerk on my own.”

  “I’m serious,” Elliott insisted. “You’re coming home with me.”

  “What you want doesn’t matter,” she said. “You gave up that right a long time ago.”

  Daniel advanced on them, anger contorting his face. “I’m asking you one more time,” he said. “Let go of her or—”

  “So that’s the way it is?” Elliott shouted. “Fine, if you love these yokels so much, maybe this is where you belong!” He spun around, stalked out of the house, and slammed the door behind him.

  She followed him out onto the porch. “You’re wrong about Will,” she called after him.

  Elliott stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. “Am I? Read that newspaper article and call me if you get your senses back.”

  “Pleasant man,” Daniel said, coming through the door to stand beside her.

  “He’s not usually like that,” Bailey said. She rubbed the spot on her arm where Elliott’s fingers had left a red mark. “He’s never been like that. I think he’s really afraid that I’m in danger here.”

  “Is that what your marriage was like?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “He never . . .” She hesitated. “Well, almost never. Once . . .” She shrugged. “We married young, and . . .” She looked up into his eyes. “Can we not talk about Elliott now? I appreciate your help, but . . . I think I’d like to be alone for a while.”

  “If that’s what you want. I hoped you . . .” He took a breath and started again. “Friends of mine, Paul and Janice, are getting married tonight. Over on Smith Island. I thought you might like to go with me.”

  “Tonight?”

  He nodded. “It’s informal. On the beach. I think you’d have fun.”

  “You mean . . . like a date?”

  “I think that’s what they call it. It’s an old island custom.”

  She couldn’t keep from smiling. “Isn’t this a little sudden?” He met her gaze, and she felt a flush run over her throat and up her cheeks.

  “Sudden?”

  She put her hand on the door. “What time?”

  “I thought we’d leave here at four. We’ll take Emma’s boat.”

  “All right. I’ve never been to a wedding on a beach. It does sound like fun.”

  “I know you haven’t been to a wedding like this one. Janice is due to deliver any day. They’ve been living together for four years.”

  “Obviously a man who takes his time popping the question,” she said as she reentered the house and reached for the overnight bag that Elliott had brought downstairs.

  “No, it was Janice who put the brakes on. She said she wanted to be certain this was the real thing.” Daniel’s hand covered hers. “I’ll carry this back up for you.” He grinned. “Wait until you taste the Deal Island Cake.”

  “Deal Island Cake? What makes it special?”

  “You’ll see. Another old island custom. Janice’s mother is baking this one.”

  “I see.” She stood there as the warmth of his strong fingers seeped into hers and her insides did a shivery dance. “Thanks. For before . . . with Elliott. I don’t know what got into him.”

  “It’s wrong, a man laying his hands on a woman in anger. You don’t have to take that, Bailey, not from anyone.”

  “No, I know that. I mean . . .” She pulled away, breaking the spell. “It just surprised me. He’s not the type.”

  “Any man can be the type under the right circumstances.”

  “I hope not.”

  “You still have feelings for him?”

  Daniel was standing so close it made her giddy. She
didn’t know how to react. First she’d tried to defend Will to Elliott, and now her ex to Daniel. And no matter what she said, it sounded foolish. “Not in the way you think,” she managed. “That was over between us a long time ago.”

  “He bullied you then?”

  She uttered a small sound of amusement. “Elliott? Not really. I smacked his face once. I shouldn’t have, but I was so angry. He ruined my credit rating. He was . . . is a gambler, and he ran up so many debts that it’s taken me years to work my way free of them.” She shook her head again. “Elliott and I are friends who used to be husband and wife. But the marriage was a mistake from the beginning, and I know it.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “There’s no chance in hell that it could ever be more than friendship again.”

  “Good.” Daniel brushed her chin with the pad of his thumb. “Because you don’t need friends like that.”

  “Is that all?”

  “No, it isn’t. . . .”

  The moment stretched out between them, and then, slowly, he lowered his head, and his lips brushed hers in a tender kiss so quick that it was over almost before she realized what was happening. “Oh,” she murmured.

  “Four,” he reminded her as he started up the steps. “Casual. Remember, it’s on a beach.”

  “All right,” she murmured. “Casual.”

  The wedding was fun. The bride and groom exchanged vows standing in the damp sand with a tight circle of friends and family around them. There was no minister or clerk. “They took care of the formalities in Elkton Wednesday night,” Daniel whispered.

  Janice wore pink shorts, a pink-and-white maternity top that barely stretched to cover her belly, and a wreath of honeysuckle. The groom came garbed in blue swim trunks and a flowered Hawaiian shirt. The bride’s sister played the guitar, and the groom’s nine-year-old son produced two shiny gold rings.

  “Paul’s divorced,” Daniel explained. “He’s a single dad.”

  The bride’s face glowed as Paul slipped the ring on her finger. “Thank you,” he said, “for giving me a happiness I never knew before.”

  Tears gathered in Bailey’s eyes. Daniel caught her hand and squeezed it tightly. A feeling of warm giddiness filled her as they watched Janice pledge her love to Paul and promise to be a good mother to both their children.