If You Ever Tell

by Carlene Thompson

  Mac paused. “Marielle came to the house that day. She was under court order not to come near you unsupervised, but she did anyway and Mom arranged for you two to meet at the side of the house, where she thought Wendy couldn’t see you. But Wendy had seen Mom talking to Marielle at the door. Wendy watched you meet with your mother.”

  “Wendy didn’t miss much of anything,” Teresa said stiffly. “She seemed to have eyes in the back of her head.”

  “It’s not Wendy seeing you that has me so dumbfounded. It’s the fact that you never told me you saw your mother the day of the murders. You withheld the truth from me. Why?”

  By this time, Teresa had grown rigid with a mixture of agitation and anger. “I didn’t realize I was under an obligation to tell you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” she snapped.

  Mac closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked so deeply into hers she felt as if he could see to her very soul. “Teri, I know you were only seventeen, but I thought we were in love. Real love, not puppy love, not infatuation. People in love tell each other important things. I consider it fairly important that your mother actually came alone to the Farr home the day they were killed, something you’d consider important enough to tell me.” Teri remained stubbornly silent. “You knew Beulah wasn’t watching your mother’s every move, didn’t you?” Mac asked.

  Teri looked at him defiantly, lifting her chin a bit. “Beulah could have done a better job, but it’s not as if my mother was gadding around the state without supervision.”

  “But she wasn’t supposed to go anywhere without supervision, especially not the home of her ex-husband and his pregnant new wife.”

  “All right!” Teri blazed at him. “My mother came to the house the day of the murders. So what?”

  “So what?” Mac said incredulously. “So her coming caused a huge fight, that’s so what. It caused Wendy to tattle to Hugh and Hugh to come home and start screaming at my mother. When he looked like he was going to get physical with her, you intervened. That day he smacked the hell out of you, not once but twice! No wonder you wouldn’t see me that evening or the next day. You had a split lip you couldn’t hide!”

  “Yes, I did. I went for a very long walk by myself that night. No one believed I wasn’t with you—no one except you—but I was alone. I didn’t want anyone to see me. I didn’t want anyone even to guess what my father had done to me. It was so disgraceful. Besides…”

  “Besides what?”

  “Besides, I didn’t want people to know what had made him so mad at me. It wasn’t just that I interrupted the tirade he was directing at your poor mother; it was also that my mother had come to the house. He was going to report her to the police. Wendy managed to keep him in check that day by telling him negative publicity about Mom would overshadow her party announcing the fact that she was pregnant. But I knew Dad would do it the next day—he couldn’t control himself for long, even to please Wendy. He said he was going to report my mother for breaking her ‘probation.’” She paused. “He also said he was going to report that you attacked me. He told me he’d claim you had given me that split lip, not him, and he said the police would take his word against yours any day, especially with Wendy backing up his story, which he knew she would.”

  Teresa took a long, shuddering breath. “But he didn’t get a chance to report my mother’s visit or make his accusation against you because he was murdered that night.” She gave Mac a long look that both pleaded for his understanding and hinted at fury if he refused to give it. “Mac, don’t you see why I couldn’t tell anyone about Mom’s visit? I also lied to the police about my lip—I said I tripped and fell, hitting it on the corner of my dresser. I didn’t want them to know Dad had struck me. They would have thought his striking me gave me even more motive to kill him. Finally, I didn’t want them to know about his threat against you. Any of those things could have given both me, my mother, and you even stronger motives for murdering him and Wendy right at that time. I was trying to protect all of us.”

  “You were also trying to protect someone else.” Teresa’s eyes flashed at him. “Teri, my mother was terribly upset over what happened that day.” He fell silent and Teri sensed he was thinking about something his mother had said today—something he didn’t intend to tell even Teresa. “Teri, did you ever see Mom between the time your father fired her and the time of the murders?”

  “See her?” Teri asked in surprise. “No. She was a wreck. I’m sure she went straight home and wouldn’t have dared come back. A few days after the murders, she came to Carmen’s, where I was staying, but I had Carmen send her away.”

  “You had her sent away? God, you sound like Wendy.”

  “Don’t you ever compare me to Wendy again!” Teresa flared, then, seeing the anger in his eyes, realized how haughty she’d sounded, especially to a man who’d had a lifetime of being sent away because he wasn’t considered good enough to socialize with the town’s “upper class.” “I asked Carmen to send your mother away because I didn’t think she should be associated with me at that time,” Teri said softly. “Emma wasn’t in good health and I was the prime suspect in a murder case. I didn’t want to do anything that might draw her deeper into that horrible mess.”

  Mac’s gaze softened; he sighed and finally leaned back in his chair as he slowly shook his head. “Poor little Teri,” he said with what sounded like genuine compassion. “I knew you were suffering during that time, but I didn’t realize how much. Good Lord, you weren’t just protecting Marielle and yourself; you were also protecting Mom and especially me.” He paused and said in a soft, warm voice, “You were quite a girl, Teresa Farr. You still are.”

  Teresa glanced down, unwilling to meet Mac’s eyes, which had grown kind, grateful, admiring, even a bit intimate. She didn’t want him to feel indebted to her. She didn’t want him to think he could use compliments, warm gazes, and a deep, sonorous voice to win her back for what would just be another fling for him but much more for her. So much more for her. She could already feel the wall of ice she’d so arduously erected toward him melting within her. At this moment, Teresa wanted little more than to open her arms, to pull Mac close to her, to feel his skin against hers, his lips pressing upon her own—

  Teresa jerked almost as if she’d been struck. What was she thinking? Was she about to let Mac insinuate himself into her life with a few kind words, a smoldering gaze, a nearly irresistible smile? Did Mac think that in spite of their past, she was so weak at this moment she couldn’t stand up against his well-practiced charm? He once knew that for her he was like a flame is to a moth. But that was in the past. Now he was in for a surprise, she thought with almost frightening vehemence. She would not let Mac MacKenzie devastate her world again. She wouldn’t even give him the slightest hope that he still meant anything to her, even if she had to be cruel.

  Determination built of her old and new fear allowed Teresa to raise her gaze to meet Mac’s and to let her own ebony eyes grow narrow, their expression harder. She leaned closer to him, her face grim, and said in a slow, definite voice, “I didn’t lie just to protect you, Mac. I lied mostly because about an hour after the fight, your mother called me and begged me not to tell you what had happened. She was terrified of your reaction to her being mistreated by Dad and of him threatening to go to the police and accuse you of attacking me. She said she was terribly afraid of what you might do if you knew the whole truth about everything that had happened that day.

  “I can tell by your expression that she left out that part of her confession today. But it’s true and you should know I didn’t keep quiet just for you. I kept quiet mainly for Emma, because I loved her.” Teresa leaned even closer to Mac and said with soft malevolence, “But I realized with a shock, Mac, that even your own mother thought you were capable of violence.”

  Mac stared at Teresa for almost a full minute after she’d told him about his mother’s call to her the night of the murders. Then he stood up, said, “Thank you for the lemo
nade,” and slammed out the front door. In a moment, she heard his car roar to life and speed down the road from her house to the highway.

  “There’s no way people can say we don’t know how to treat guests well,” Teri said cheerfully to Sierra, who had leaped up and barked when Mac slammed the front door. “Don’t worry about him, girl. I don’t think he’ll be coming back for a visit, and dear God, am I glad.”

  Sierra sat on the floor, tilting her head and looking at Teri intently. She smiled at the dog again, started to say something else silly and jovial, and immediately burst into tears. Within a minute, she was sitting on the floor sobbing as Sierra clambered all over her, whining and burying her face against Teri’s neck.

  2

  The hours after Mac left seemed interminable to Teresa. She was glad she’d sent him on his way. She hated herself for her brutal dismissal of him. She was glad he was gone, hopefully forever. She was bereft that he was gone and she might never see him again.

  At last, exhausted by trying to analyze her feelings, Teri had decided to let the matter drop and busy her mind with something besides Mac MacKenzie. She tried to read but couldn’t concentrate. She tried to watch television but kept finding channels running the Byrnes story. She couldn’t think of one thing that sounded good for dinner, so she decided to skip it, although the rough day had not affected Sierra’s appetite in the least. Finally, Teresa poured a glass of Chablis, put an Ivy CD on the stereo, and sat in near darkness, floating along with the music until nearly ten o’clock. Half-asleep and on her second glass of wine, she jumped when the phone rang. Teri reached for the handset on the end table beside her chair. “Hello?” she mumbled cautiously, expecting a prank call.

  “I hear that old rascal Roscoe Lee Byrnes is back in the news.”

  Carmen. Teresa let out her breath, until that moment unaware she’d been holding it. “I wondered why I hadn’t heard from you today.”

  “I’ve been running all over town spreading the word that Roscoe didn’t really kill Wendy and Hugh. This seems like a small town until you’ve visited every house in the area.”

  “Carmen, this is not a joking matter,” Teresa said sternly, although she couldn’t stop the smile creeping to her lips. Maybe Sharon and Kent didn’t appreciate Carmen’s offbeat humor, but the woman usually managed to get a grin out of Teri by not acting like life was a minefield full of danger or, even worse, social disaster.

  “Look, kiddo, I know this must seem like the end of the world to you, but it isn’t.” Carmen’s voice was smooth and calm, as if she were discussing any everyday matter. “Roscoe has decided to make himself a star and he will get a couple of days of publicity, but that’s it. I’ve seen the videotape of his heartrending confession that he didn’t kill Wendy and Hugh. Believe me, he lacks the charisma of Ted Bundy. He looks like a murderer. He sounds like a murderer, and a dumb one at that. Nobody is going to believe him.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that, Carmen.”

  “Well, I do. People aren’t buying it, Teri.”

  Teresa sat up straighter. “Carmen Norris, did you really spend the whole day running around discussing Roscoe Lee Byrnes with anyone you could find?”

  “Only a few people whose opinion I value.”

  “Oh no. If you mentioned it to anyone, Kent won’t ever speak to you again.”

  Carmen laughed. “I’m not concerned with Kent’s opinion of me, Teri. It couldn’t be much worse than it already is, although I don’t know what I ever did to offend him. Has he ever told you?”

  Teresa had a hard time jerking her thoughts from Roscoe Byrnes to Kent’s apparent distaste for Carmen. “I believe Kent just thinks all women, especially those over thirty, should be sitting home baking or something.”

  “Very tactful. And very evasive. But you’re not one to pass along insults.” For some reason, Carmen’s voice sounded lighter. “How’s Mac?”

  “Mac? How did you know he’d been here?”

  “I didn’t. It was a guess you just confirmed.” Teresa could have immediately bitten her tongue. “Did he offer sympathy and support?”

  “Yes, at first, but I handled things all wrong.”

  “Oh, Teri,” Carmen moaned. “Please tell me you didn’t throw yourself into his arms and tell him you love him.”

  “Of course I didn’t!” Teresa was indignant. “And I don’t love him!”

  “So you say.” Carmen suddenly sounded serious. “Teri, I’m not your mother and you’re an adult, but you can’t leave yourself open to this man. You know what happened the last time—”

  “Yes, I know what happened, Carmen. For heaven’s sake, you’re the one who dragged me to Club Rendezvous—”

  “Only to see the club. Not to be with Mac.”

  “And I didn’t invite him here today,” Teresa plowed on. “I couldn’t help it if he stopped by. What did you want me to do when he came to the door? Hide?”

  Teresa took another sip of wine, waiting for Carmen to keep haranguing. Instead, Carmen said mildly, “Well, I don’t hear that lilt in your voice you used to get every time you talked about him. You said you handled things wrong. What did you do?”

  “You said I wasn’t one to pass along insults. You were wrong. Can we just leave it at that?”

  “I don’t get any details?”

  “Not tonight.” Teri still couldn’t bear to think of the merciless things she’d said to Mac, even if she felt she had good reason to discourage any further attempts of his to see her. “I’m too tired to talk about Mac’s very short visit. It’s been an incredibly long, depressing day what with Byrnes and all…,” she ended vaguely.

  “I’m sure it has been. Hearing him trying to clear himself of the Farr murders must have been a surprising, not to mention crushing, blow just when you thought the mess was about over—finally. How are you holding up?”

  “Okay, considering. I certainly hadn’t expected him to put on a show so close to his execution. I guess he wanted to create a sensation before he leaves this life.”

  Teresa drained her wineglass, glanced up, and let out a small, choked cry when she saw a pale face staring at her through her living-room window. Her gaze locked for a second with that of the intruder’s overly large, shadowed eyes. Then Teresa blinked and the face disappeared.

  “Teri, are you all right?” Carmen’s voice grew louder over the phone. “Teri, what the hell is wrong?”

  Teresa’s voice emerged scratchily around the wine that refused to make its way down her throat. “I saw a face at the front window.”

  “Was it one of those Gibbs men who work for you?”

  “No.”

  “You said you only caught a glimpse. And you’ve been drinking.”

  “I’ve had two glasses of wine in the last two hours!” Teri replied hotly. “I forgot to turn on the porch lights. I’m going to the door and look outside.”

  “Teri, no!” Carmen almost shouted. “Have you taken leave of your senses? What if there’s a killer outside? Are you just going to open the door and invite him in?”

  “A killer? That’s—” Teri broke off, realizing that opening the door was an impulsively stupid, dangerous idea. Maybe she was drunk, she thought. Carmen was still shouting on the phone. “Carmen, stop yelling at me. I’m not going to the door. I don’t know what I was thinking. But I am going to look out the window.”

  “Teri, I’m going to call nine-one-one.”

  “Not yet! Hang on a minute.”

  Teresa usually closed the living-room drapes at night, but this evening she’d forgotten them. She’d remembered to lock the door. At least she hoped she had.

  Panic seized her as she dashed across the room, twisted at an unmoving doorknob, meaning it was locked. “Thank God,” she muttered as Sierra, alarmed by Teresa’s obvious fear, stood behind her barking frantically.

  “Be quiet!” Teri hissed at the dog nearly roaring at the front window. Teri dropped to her knees and crawled beneath the window—a trick she’d seen on television when
a character didn’t want to make a perfect target of himself—raised her head slightly, and peered into an indigo night lacking a moon and at least half of its stars.

  Teresa thought she heard a man’s voice. Suddenly, a blinding light flashed just above her head. She shrieked and fell backward, her heart pounding painfully, her breath gone, Sierra running in circles around her barking fiercely. The light continued to shine, bouncing around the semi-dark room, blazing over furniture, shining hardwood flooring, the telephone where even above Sierra’s racket Teresa could hear Carmen screaming, “Teri! Teri!”

  Still huddled on the floor, Teresa grabbed at the dog, which leaped repeatedly at the window, spattering saliva on the glass. Teresa had finally managed to get her arms around the dog’s muscular body when again she heard a man’s voice, this time loud enough to rise above the din in the house. “Miss Farr, are you all right?” Teresa huddled on the floor, shaken by an abrupt, profound panic. “Miss Farr, it’s Josh Gibbs! It’s Josh! Miss Farr!”

  Teresa felt as if she was going to pass out in relief. No one was aiming at her with a gun. Joshua Gibbs stood on her porch sending the powerful beam of their large flashlight into her house. “Josh?” she yelled. She needed to hear his voice one more time to reassure herself of his identity. “Is it you and your dad?”

  “Just me, ma’am,” Josh shouted back. “You okay in there?”

  “Yes, but there was someone at the window—”

  “I was driving down the hill, comin’ back from a friend’s, and I saw him. Your porch lights aren’t on, but I caught him in the headlights. I drove straight on up the knoll to your house, but he still got away from me. He took off for the woods. You want me to go after him?”

  “No, don’t bother.” Teresa’s voice cracked and she realized how ridiculous it was for her to stay huddled on the floor with the two of them shouting back and forth. “I’m sure he’s long gone,” she yelled, slowly getting up. “I’m coming to the door.”