Storming Whitehorn

by Christine Scott

  With shaking hands, Celeste reached into the pocket of her terry-cloth robe and withdrew a gun. Taking a deep breath, she placed it in the center of the table.

  Though she knew little about guns, Jasmine saw the markings identifying it as a Colt .45. She felt her heart thud against her chest.

  Beside her, David stiffened. He took a step toward the table, then stopped. Standing uneasily, a deep frown of concern furrowed his brow.

  Cleo and Summer looked helplessly at each other, confusion obvious in their eyes.

  Yvette shrank back in her chair. Edward’s arm went around her in a gesture of support. Encouraged, Yvette was the first to speak. “What’s this all about, Celeste? This was Jeremiah’s gun. What are you doing with it?”

  “I’ve had it for years, thirty years to be exact. I’ve kept it so well hidden I nearly forgot about it myself.” Celeste swayed unsteadily on her feet. Grasping the back of a nearby chair, she closed her eyes, as though trying to gather her strength. Then, opening them, she slowly glanced at each of them, her gaze regretful.

  “I’ve asked each of you to come here to tell you…”

  Her voice trembled and broke with emotion. With a sigh she cast her eyes downward. Then, the words so soft they had to strain to hear her, she said, “It was me…. I killed him. I killed Raven Hunter.”

  Chapter Ten

  Jasmine stood motionless, feeling as though the bottom had just dropped out of her world. She couldn’t believe her own ears. Her kind and gentle mother, a woman who’d lived her life in the pursuit of spiritual peace and harmony, had just confessed to a murder.

  It wasn’t possible.

  The whole idea was absurd.

  Despite her own denials, Jasmine’s vision blurred as a picture of Storm’s pain-lined face cropped up in her mind. She closed her eyes against the sting of tears, unable to bear the image. Her mother’s uncharacteristic objections to her seeing Storm echoed in her mind. No wonder Celeste didn’t want her to be with him. She’d been afraid of what might be revealed. All this time Jasmine had been helping Storm look for the murderer of his brother and the truth was right in front of her, in the fold of her own family.

  No! With a jerk, Jasmine opened her eyes. She forced herself to look at her mother, to see her as she really was, frightened and more fragile than ever before. She shook her head. No, it couldn’t be true. Her mother wouldn’t have deceived her all this time. She wouldn’t have lied to her own daughter.

  “Celeste,” David said, the first to break the spell of silence that had held the room. His gentle voice jarred Jasmine from her trance of disbelief. “Raven Hunter has been dead for thirty years. If you killed him, why haven’t you told anyone before now?”

  Celeste looked at him, a plea for understanding in her tired expression. “Because I didn’t know for sure.”

  “But you’re sure now,” David said, keeping his voice even, with no hint of censure.

  “Tonight I had another dream,” Celeste said, her voice distant and hollow. She stared straight ahead at a spot on the kitchen wall, her eyes glazed and unfocused. It was as though she were reliving a memory, and not truly aware of what was happening here and now.

  “A dream,” David coaxed, gently prodding her to continue. “What sort of dream?”

  “A dream that isn’t really a dream.” Blinking away the stupor, Celeste sighed. Wearily she took a seat at the kitchen table. Unable to face them, she studied her hands that she held tightly clasped in her lap. “It was a vision from the past. A memory that I’ve spent thirty years trying to forget. But now I know the truth. I finally know what happened on the night Raven Hunter died.”

  Yvette scooted her chair next to Celeste’s. Wrapping an arm around her sister’s shoulder, she said, “We all love you, Celeste. No matter what, you know that we’ll always support you. Please don’t be afraid to tell us what happened.”

  Murmurs of agreement sounded through out the room.

  Still too stunned to speak, Jasmine remained unforgivably silent.

  With her eyes still downcast, Celeste began to speak, spilling out the guilty memory that had haunted her dreams for almost thirty years. “It all started when Jeremiah discovered Blanche’s pregnancy. When she admitted that Raven Hunter was the father, Jeremiah nearly went insane. I—I’d never seen him so angry before. He looked wild, and filled with hatred. I thought for sure he’d do something to Raven…to hurt him in some way.”

  Celeste stopped and shuddered at the thought.

  Yvette squeezed her shoulder, silently giving her encouragement.

  Celeste covered her sister’s hand with hers, clinging to it, then continued, “Instead of lashing out at him, Jeremiah paid Raven to leave town. No one expected Raven to accept the money. But when he did, Jeremiah made sure everyone knew, including Blanche. It nearly killed Blanche to hear the news. Something died in her after that. The disappointment she must have felt—”

  Her voice broke. Tears filled her eyes. Celeste blinked rapidly, allowing a single drop to cascade down her pale cheek. The words thick with emotion, she said, “I never believed Raven would leave Blanche. I knew he would change his mind. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that he’d come back to the ranch.”

  Celeste looked directly at Summer, her gaze fierce and determined. “Raven was a good man. He wouldn’t have abandoned Blanche or you, Summer. I’m sure the reason he returned was to give Jeremiah back the money.”

  Summer nodded her understanding, her smile hesitant.

  Celeste looked at the gun she’d placed on the kitchen table. Her gaze terrified, she said, “I was in bed, trying to sleep. But there was a terrible thunder-storm that night and I couldn’t relax. That was when I heard the shouts, the angry voices coming from the study. I didn’t know who was downstairs, or what was happening. I recognized Jeremiah’s voice, but no one else’s. I was frightened and not sure what to do. I knew Jeremiah kept a gun in his dresser drawer. So I went to his room and got out the Colt.

  “When I went downstairs, I only saw the back of a man’s head. He’d pinned Jeremiah to the floor, and he was beating him with his fists.”

  Celeste choked back a sob. She lifted a hand to her mouth and closed her eyes, struggling for control.

  Yvette and Summer both looked close to tears. Cleo looked shocked, devastated by the events unfolding in front of her. David and Edward wore looks of resignation and utter sympathy.

  Pain knifed Jasmine’s heart as she shared her mother’s distress. She wanted to go to her, to comfort her, to stop this tragic testimony. But something held her back. She needed to know the truth, once and for all.

  Regaining her composure, Celeste opened her eyes. “I couldn’t see the man’s face. I only heard an angry voice shouting…’if you get in our way again, I’ll kill you, old man.’ I—I was so afraid that whoever was attacking Jeremiah meant those words. I tried to stop him. I called out, begging the man to let Jeremiah go. But he wouldn’t listen. I don’t think he even heard me. He was so intent on hurting Jeremiah, I knew I had no choice—”

  Celeste lifted her trembling hands and stared at them. “My hands were shaking so badly, I don’t know how I was able to hold the gun straight. But I knew I had to do something, before Jeremiah was killed. So I closed my eyes, and I pulled the trigger on the Colt.” Tears poured down her face. “At the same time, th-there was a clap of thunder outside. It shook the house, and scared me so. I thought it was God’s way of condemning me. Then I smelled smoke, coming from the gun in my hand…it was so strong and bitter, it made me sick to my stomach. I opened my eyes and dropped the Colt on the floor, appalled by what I’d done. That was when the intruder slumped to the floor and I finally saw his face. Jeremiah was safe, but I had killed Raven Hunter.”

  Summer looked away, seeming unwilling to let Celeste see the tears filling her eyes. Though Jasmine’s own eyes remained dry, they burned with unshed emotion.

  “Somehow, Jeremiah got to his feet. He told me to stay put while he examined Raven�
�s body,” Celeste said. She shook her head, giving a quick bitter-sounding laugh. “I was so shocked by what had just happened, I couldn’t have moved even if I’d wanted to. When Jeremiah told me Raven was dead, I lost what little control I had and became hysterical. I never meant for anything like that to happen. Jeremiah tried to calm me, he told me he’d take care of everything. He said it would be our little secret, that no one would ever find out that I’d killed Raven.”

  Her shoulders slumped as she heaved a defeated sigh. “I never knew what he’d done with the body. I did know what I had done was wrong, but I tried to push the memory of that night from my mind. Over time, I succeeded. It wasn’t until Raven’s remains were found that I began to remember that night.”

  “That was why you could never say no to Jeremiah,” Yvette said softly, shaking her head. “Why you never could stand up to him when he tried to control your life.”

  “He held all the cards,” Celeste admitted. “He knew the worst secret in the world. If I didn’t do what he wanted, I knew he could ruin me. That was why, when Ty Monroe came to town and asked me to marry him, I agreed. The thought of moving as far away as Baton Rouge was like a dream come true. At that point, I’d have done anything to get away from Jeremiah.”

  Celeste looked anxiously at each of her daughters. “Don’t misunderstand me. In my own way I loved your father. He was a good man. Being with him saved my sanity.”

  At last Jasmine’s tears found release. Tear drops fell unchecked down her cheeks. The last of the puzzle had fallen into place. She now understood her mother’s fascination with the spiritual here after, her frantic pursuit of peace and solace. All these years she’d repressed a traumatic event. But the tragedy had never completely disappeared. What had occurred in the study that night had haunted Celeste’s dreams and her subconscious every day of her life. It wasn’t any wonder that she’d sought alternate means to find absolution.

  “What happens now?” Yvette asked, looking to her son for an answer.

  David made his way to Celeste’s side. Crouching on a bent knee, he looked her in the eye and said, “We’ll need to make a report. The police will have to be notified.”

  Celeste nodded. “I know. That’s what I want. I’ve lived too many years with this secret. It’s time to tell the truth.”

  “Then I’ll go with you.” David clasped her hands in his. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

  “So will I,” Yvette said, a determined look on her face. “You’ll always have my support.”

  Edward nodded. Cleo and Summer murmured their own agreements. Everyone stood, voicing their opinions, making suggestions on the best way to handle the tenuous situation.

  Jasmine remained motionless at the kitchen counter, unable to join her family, torn between her loyalty to her mother and her newfound feelings for Storm. She knew Storm would be shocked by the news. He would be angry and upset, and rightly so. How could she ever convince him that she hadn’t intentionally kept the truth from him?

  But if he didn’t believe her, the fragile bond they’d built between them would be destroyed.

  Jasmine felt over whelmed by what might be lost. Before she’d met Storm, she’d dated many different men. But no one had ever caught her heart. No one she could say that’s him, he’s the one she’d spend her life with. She’d watched with an envious eye as others in her family had found happiness with their one true love. All the while, wondering when it would be her turn.

  Then Storm had come crashing into her world and she knew something special was about to happen. He’d given her life meaning, a new purpose. She finally understood what it meant to care about someone so deeply that nothing else in the world mattered but him.

  For her, it was love at first sight. From the moment they’d first met, she’d had no doubt that they were meant to be together.

  But fate seemed to be working against them.

  Knowing she had no other choice, Jasmine pushed herself from the kitchen counter. Slowly she made her way to her mother’s side. Sensing her presence, Celeste turned to face her. Jasmine saw the painful glimmer of remorse in her mother’s eyes and the heart-wrenching plea for understanding.

  No one but Celeste would know the effect her confession would have on Jasmine’s life. Her voice trembling, she said, “I’m so sorry, Jasmine.”

  “I know, I know…” Jasmine folded her mother into an embrace. “It’ll be all right, Mother,” she whispered. “We’ll work this out together. Everything will be fine.”

  Jasmine wished she believed the words to be true in her own heart.

  Shortly afternoon, Storm felt the first inkling of unease. Jasmine had told him that she had to work in the morning, that she couldn’t see him until that afternoon. He took a steadying breath, struggling to get a hold on his impatience. It was still early, he told himself.

  There was no need to start worrying yet.

  When one o’clock came and went, he knew something was wrong. For the past thirty minutes he’d been pacing the floor, trying not to let his imagination run away from him. Jasmine should have called or stopped in by now. She was too honest and open. It wasn’t like her not to let him know that her plans had changed.

  Unless her family’s objections had finally gotten to her. Unless she’d decided she couldn’t see him again, after all.

  The grim thought spurred him into action. He strode to the phone, picked up the receiver and started punching in the number for the B and B. The possibility of Celeste answering stopped him. The last thing he wanted was to make trouble for Jasmine. At least, no more than he’d already caused.

  Frustrated, Storm slammed the receiver back onto its cradle. He pushed the hair from his face and smacked his palm flat against the wall. The sound reverberated through out the quiet room. His hand smarted, doing little to help his foul mood. He’d been cooped up inside too long. He had to get out. He had to do something.

  He needed to find Jasmine—even if it meant climbing the walls of the bed-and-break fast to get to her.

  Grabbing his keys, he headed for the door. Just as he was about to open it, three sharp raps sounded on the other side.

  Jasmine….

  Relief poured through him, easing the tension from his muscles. He shook his head, feeling foolish for letting his insecurities get the better of him. With a sheepish smile, he opened the door.

  And was greeted by the somber face of Gretchen Neal. Behind her stood a tall, brown-haired, blue-eyed man, dressed in the uniform of a deputy sheriff.

  Storm’s smile fled. He stared at them, his heart lurching in his chest. His first thoughts were of Jasmine, that something had happened to her. She’d been hurt, injured, and the police had come to tell him the bad news.

  As soon as it surfaced, he discarded the unlikely thought. No one knew of his fledgling relationship with Jasmine. As far as the town of Whitehorn was concerned, he’d be the last person to be notified of a Kincaid’s demise.

  The police were here for a very different reason.

  Which meant only one thing—Raven.

  “What is it?” Storm demanded in lieu of a greeting.

  Gretchen Neal winced at his gruff tone. Looking as though she were struggling to control her own impatience, she inhaled a steadying breath. With a nod toward the man behind her, she said, “Mr. Hunter, this is Deputy Reed Austin. If you have a moment, we’d like to talk to you.”

  “About what?” Storm said, not budging from the doorway, his hand still clenching the doorknob in a death grip.

  “There’s been a development in your brother’s case.” She glanced up and down the hotel walkway, as though checking for eaves droppers. “Would you mind if we came inside and talked about it?”

  Storm stepped back, letting them enter the room. A development… The words brought a quivering of trepidation to the pit of his belly, making him even more keenly aware of Jasmine’s absence. He refused to consider the possibility that she could be connected to this new development in any way. All
he knew for certain was that without her at his side, he felt exposed, vulnerable to whatever news Detective Neal was about to give him.

  He wasn’t sure if he could handle this on his own.

  Refusing to give in to his fears, he said, “What sort of development?”

  Gretchen nodded toward the room’s only chair. “Would you like to sit down, Mr. Hunter?”

  Storm crossed his arms against his chest and planted his feet firmly on the carpeted floor. He looked at her, challenging her to delay the news any further.

  At his uncooperative response, Deputy Reed Austin shifted uncomfortably, one foot to the other, his gaze narrow, his stance wary. Obviously the man’s presence was a result of the confrontation between Storm and David Hannon, which had occurred when he’d first arrived in town. Storm decided the deputy must be here in a show of support to his comrade, to make sure that no harm would come to Detective Neal from a “hot headed Indian.”

  Choosing each word with care, Gretchen said, “There’s been a break in the case. We’re holding a suspect at the county jail.”

  “A suspect?” Storm frowned, unable to believe what he was hearing. All these years he’d thought Jeremiah Kincaid was the one who’d killed his brother. But Jeremiah was dead. Now this woman, this detective, was telling him that someone else committed the crime. He wasn’t sure what to think.

  “It’s a solid lead,” Gretchen said, her tone defensive, as though she’d read the doubts in his mind. “This person… They’ve confessed to the shooting.”

  Storm almost wished he’d listened to her advice and had chosen to sit, after all. His legs felt weak and wobbly. He wasn’t sure if they were strong enough to hold him. His voice sounding hoarse with suppressed emotion, he said, “Who is it? Who killed my brother?”

  Hesitating, Gretchen glanced at her partner. Deputy Austin nodded his encouragement. Turning back to Storm, she said stiffly, “Celeste Monroe came in early this morning. She’s confessed to the crime.”