***
Instead of doing the smart thing and sneaking off into the night, Logan, his destructive activity now entirely forgotten, drove toward Julie’s house. Bouts of rage eroding his thought processes to little more than instinct were coming more often now; the moments between them becoming less lucid every day.
Something inside kept driving him, even if he tried to fight it. Something that felt part of him, yet somehow alien.
Truth be told, he mostly embraced the feeling; the power of it was heady, enticing—even when the voice told him to do something evil. Like now; it was telling him to burn it. Burn it all.
He parked the car and looked for something he could start a fire with. After his last experience of trying to break in here, he was loathe to run into Lola again. He could hear her barking from inside.
Wherever the voice in his head was coming from, it kept screaming, “Burn it. Burn it. Burn it down,” until he couldn’t hear anything else. Tearing through his car, he found nothing combustible, nothing that would burn strongly enough to set the house on fire.
Unable to satisfy the screaming voice, he picked up a rock and hurled it toward the house. It was just his bad luck that the rock broke a window, setting off the alarm.
The shrill noise pierced the veil and brought him back to himself. What was he doing here? This was a bad idea. He raced to his car, reversed, and shot down the drive knowing full well that he had a very limited window of time to get away.
There was a turnoff a mile past the end of Julie’s drive. If he could reach that, he could hide there until the cops went by, then get behind them and make his way out of town.
In the country darkness, he could hear the sirens getting closer as he rounded the last corner. It was a race he planned to win, so he clicked off his headlights driving in the near darkness until he saw the turnoff ahead and reversed into it. It was going to be tricky timing his escape.
As soon as the flashing lights passed out of sight, he pulled out and hightailed it toward town. His luck held, and he pulled into the municipal parking lot finding an empty space in a darkened corner. He reached in the back seat and rifled through the options there for disguise, finally choosing a ball cap and a pair of heavy rimmed glasses.
Affecting an exaggerated limp, he took a seat at a recently vacated table in front of the pub, sat listening intently to the chatter around him. This was the best way to get Intel, and before long he heard his name mentioned. They were saying he’d vandalized Gustavia’s car and that there had been a road block set up on every road leaving town. They knew the make and model of the car he was driving so that was a complication.
Best thing to do was ditch the car and hide out until the heat died down.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Gustavia reluctantly dragged herself out of bed. It had been a late night after the manhunt was finally called off. That Logan was one slippery character; and, once again, he’d managed to get away clean. Well, not quite clean, she amended. Thanks to Tamara, they had visible proof he had expanded his vendetta. Now, both she and Julie had to be careful.
Not that she’d needed confirmation, but it didn’t hurt to have it anyway.
When she walked into the living room, Zack was already up and working. It still felt weird to have him around, but he’d insisted he wanted to stay, that she not be alone. Even with the alarm system, he wasn’t taking any chances.
Smiling to herself, she listened to him muttering imprecations in a low-pitched voice while he alternatively chugged a cup of coffee and leafed through the files and folders spread out on her coffee table.
“Come here; take a look at this.” He invited her to sit. “I’m pretty sure this is how he got past us. There’s an old access road for those camps down on the point. It used to be connected on both ends until the county took it over and they discontinued the lower end. It’s not passable by car, but hikers still use it.”
“How did he find it? Never pegged him for being a hiker.”
“Online aerial maps.” He flipped his laptop around so she could see. “The forest hasn’t fully reclaimed the old road, so it’s plainly visible from the air. The hikers have kept it clear enough to be an easy hike. Still, going through there at night shows he’s desperate.”
“How far away could he get on foot? Seems like you’d have picked him up by now.”
“And so we would; but, once he got past the blocks, he hitched a ride with an early morning delivery truck. Driver called it in after he saw the photo on the news.”
“So, we’re back to square one. Again.”
“No, we have more evidence; and now that his face is splashed all over the TV, it’s only a matter of time.”
Now he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “There’s more.”
“What? Did he do more than vandalize my car?”
“No, I did something you probably won’t like.”
Remembering how little time had passed since he decided he cared what she might or might not like, she smiled. At his next words, the smile evaporated. “I called Mom and Dad.”
“You did what?”
Just what she didn’t need; more ultimatums, more awkward moments.
“Did you know he threatened to cut off my trust fund if I didn’t pack up and go home with them? Does he think I’m still the child he threw away? Or that I would ever touch that money?”
“No, I didn’t know, and don’t look at me like that,” he said as her expressively quirked eyebrow plainly said she didn’t believe him. “Dad can be a bit heavy-handed at times. I assume you set him straight.”
“Undoubtedly. He had no idea; all this time he thought I was living off his money. I take care of myself, always have.”
“I’m not going to defend him--them. But I am going to ask you to keep an open mind. I know Mom wants a second chance. We’ve talked about you.” She shot him another withering look. “I know, I know, and I’m sorry. She’s changed; she’s softer. The past two years--I’m not sure what happened, but she’s different. It’s your choice, though, what to do about them.”
Hands on her hips, she blew out a breath. “So you called them? And now what? Are they coming here? They’re not coming here, right?”
The look on his face was all the answer she needed.
“When?”
He looked at his watch.
“You probably have a few minutes or so, enough time to get dressed.”
“Thin ice, Roman. You’re on very thin ice.” She hadn’t asked him about Valerie, hadn’t asked if he’d known about his great aunt. If her parents were on the way, they needed to talk about how this family had a habit of throwing people away. She just wasn’t sure where to start. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” The fierce expression made him feel a bit wary.
“Do you know about Valerie?”
“Valerie?” She could tell he’d drawn a total blank. Oh, God, he didn’t know. Well, at least she wasn’t the only one for once.
“Vivian wasn’t an only child. There was a younger sister, Valerie. I met her purely by accident, or fate stepped in depending on how you look at it.”
At his stunned expression, she reached out, gave his hand a squeeze. “Vivian didn’t care for the man Valerie married, so she hounded her parents until they disowned her sister. Valerie was never allowed to associate with the family. I found her working in a clothes shop in the city. She looks just like Vivian except she has smile lines around her eyes, and they’re kind eyes, gentle. And why didn’t we know about her?” She didn’t realize she was crying until he brushed a tear from her cheek.
From the expression on his face, she could tell he was wondering the same thing.
“So what are you going to say to them when they get here?”
“You mean what are we going to say to them? You didn’t think you were skipping out on this. Because you are staying right here, pal. This was your big idea. In fact, I ought to leave and let you handle them. Th
ey like you.”
“I’ll stay but you have to hear them out. Give them a chance. I know you don’t think they deserve one, and you might be right; I won’t argue the point, but I’m asking you to be the bigger person.”
“Is there more of that coffee? I need something stronger than tea this morning.”
“There’s half a pot left, but don’t you think you ought to get dressed?” He turned back to his work and didn’t see his sister make a series of sneering faces accompanied by several rude hand gestures before she went back to her room to pick out something to wear.
Because she needed to feel fully comfortable and firmly rooted in her own personality, she chose carefully. One of her favorite tie-dyed skirts, one of her new, more conservative tops. No scarves, minimal jewelry—only a couple strings of beads, rings on all fingers and toes—and then, just because she wanted to, she quickly wove ten thin braids into her hair then hung them with a series of oddly-shaped, colored paper clips. Triangles and spirals mostly.
When she heard the doorbell ring, she raised her chin and prepared for the fight; the paper clips making a soft tingling sound that she imagined was the chain mail of her armor.
The three of them looked like a perfect family; Zack stood next to his mother, her hand on his arm, his head bowed low in order to listen attentively to what she had to say. Looking at the tableau, Gustavia knew she didn’t fit, and it didn’t matter what she was wearing or how her hair was styled. Their differences went so much deeper and acceptance was scarce.
These people might, in their own way, care about her; but none of them could understand the bone-deep loneliness that stemmed from not being included. From being deemed not good enough to keep, from being sent away.
No way was this a good idea, she thought. I’m just letting myself in for more pain. I can’t do it. But, as she turned to escape back into her room, the jingling paper clips betrayed her presence.
Zack was instantly at her side, taking her arm and leading her closer to the family circle, one she knew was closed to her and would remain so.
Still, she had told Zack she would listen to what they had to say. So she waited for them to speak.
Her mother poked an elbow in her father’s ribcage making him jump. Peter cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak while his daughter waited expectantly. “I guess I owe you an apology,” he said.
“Yes,” she agreed, and then Gustavia waited for the actual apology while he assumed his statement qualified as one.
He got another vicious poke in the ribs for his trouble. “I’m sorry. I was out of line the last time we spoke.” It was not nearly enough, but it was a start. Taking a deeper breath, Gustavia waited to see what would happen next.
Janine was overwhelmed with the need to touch her daughter. It had never been her idea for Eloise to live with Vivian; but when her mother-in-law pushed, Peter had given in without a fight. At first, she’d thought Peter would come to his senses quickly, but it hadn’t happened. Conditioned well, he always deferred to his overbearing mother.
He’d let his mother step in, make all the decisions; and Janine had lost her daughter, maybe forever.
A logical woman at the top of her field, well respected and considered an authority, she’d allowed her own child to be taken from her without a fight. What did that say about her? What kind of mother refuses to fight for her family?
If Gustavia never spoke to her again, it would be no less than she deserved.
In despair, she knew she had to try. Stepping forward, Janine said, “You’ve cut your hair. It looks very nice.”
A week ago, Janine’s statement might have sent her daughter into another spiral of self-doubt and pity; but, today, Gustavia only said, “Thank you.”
Then, she fell silent again.
Now it was Janine’s turn to search for words. “May we sit down? This might take some time.”
“Of course; I’m sorry. Would you like something to drink? I could make tea or I have some fresh lemonade.”
“Thank you, that would be lovely.” Janine thought they all needed a moment to pull their thoughts together.
The moment Gustavia left the room, she turned toward Peter and in a low, but emphatic, voice informed him it was time to get everything out in the open and he’d tell his daughter the truth, or else. At that moment, anyone who knew both women would have seen an obvious resemblance between mother and daughter.
Finn would have recognized it right away as Janine drilled her finger into Peter’s chest to make the point.
Well-deserved shame made Peter defensive; it was the trait his wife liked least about him.
Hearing the quiet slap of Gustavia’s sandals on the polished hardwoods, Janine settled back into her seat and fixed a smile on her face as her daughter entered the room with a tray of drinks. It was a valiant smile but didn’t quite mask the sorrow in her eyes; she deeply regretted the chasm in their relationship.
Gustavia faltered, just slightly, at the heightened level of emotion in the room coming from her mother. Zack might have been onto something with his idea that things had changed. Hope fluttered in her soul, wanted to break free and soar, but she ruthlessly tamped it down again.
Burned me before, she thought, but it won’t happen again.
Because she was watching carefully, Janine saw hope flare briefly and sent up a prayer that she could bring it back. If there was even a chance, she might just get her daughter back. Only if she could traverse the minefield of their past safely. Janine took a deep breath and plunged ahead.
“Sweetheart, we owe you an explanation. Are you willing to hear us out?”
Instinctively, Zack reached for his sister’s hand, pulled her down to sit next to him. She would need his support.
After a moment, Gustavia nodded, her expressive face set in lines of defiance tinged with a fair amount of apprehension. Torn between wanting to hear the story and being afraid of what her father had to say, Gustavia lifted both hand to press the heels of her hands hard against her eyes then squared her shoulders as if preparing to take a blow and said, “Go on, then.”
Hesitantly, Peter began to speak. “I was still a prosecuting attorney when you were a little girl. There was a case—my biggest case—against a man well on his way to establishing a syndicate. He was a murderer and an extortionist with ties to drug and prostitution rings.”
None of this was news to Gustavia. Did they think she was unaware of her own family history? That she’d never bothered to research her own father? Apparently so.
“The trial hadn’t even started when a package came to the door. It was full of pictures. Pictures of you playing outside, at school. Everywhere. There was no note but I got the idea. Unless I dropped the case, I couldn’t be assured of your safety. When we started finding dead animals on the doorstep, we knew we had to do something.”
Now that was new information.
“So you sent us to Vivian to keep us safe? How did you know they wouldn’t find us there? It wasn’t so far away.”
“She hired a security firm at considerable expense: bodyguards, alarms, the works. The case dragged on for several months, but we were able to keep our key witness protected. When the dust settled, we’d taken down the entire group. That was the case that propelled me into being elected.”
A touch of conceit tinged his words, “I could have given in to the pressure but I followed through.”
Peter would like to have ended his story there, but Gustavia asked the key question: “When it was over, Zack went home but I stayed. Why was that?”
Now her father had the decency to look uncomfortable. “Mother thought it best,” and when he didn’t immediately elaborate, Gustavia turned to Janine with a questioning look.
“Wasn’t it your place to decide what was best for me? Why couldn’t the security firm protect us in our own home? Do you have any idea what living with her was like? Nothing you’ve said seems like a good enough reason to abandon me.”
Peter cut in before
Janine could answer.
“Mother insisted. She said you were too rebellious and that your outrageous behavior would be detrimental to my image, could hurt my campaign. We argued, but I’m sorry to say that I didn’t stand up to her.” Peter at least had the decency to appear shamed at what seemed to Gustavia a flimsy excuse.
***
Until this moment, Zack had remained silent. Now, Gustavia was shocked to hear him ask, “Did you know about Valerie?” The question seemed to come out of nowhere.
“Valerie?” Peter seemed confused, “What does she have to do with anything? My aunt disgraced her family then ran away from home years and years ago.”
“Did she?” Zack asked, “What did she do to disgrace her family? Marry a man who loved her and not Vivian?”
“She got pregnant, left home to become an unwed mother when she was sixteen.”
“If that is what grandmother told you, she lied. I’m starting to think she lied about a lot of things.”
When he got upset, Peter tended to resemble his mother; his face pinched and tight, his tone condescending. “Explain yourself,” he ordered.
Zack bristled so Gustavia cut in. “Valerie was disowned by her parents after she married a man Vivian coveted. Vivian made their lives hell until they gave in to her demand and cut off a daughter who had done nothing to deserve it. Sound familiar?”
“How would you know anything about this? It all happened before I was born.”
“Because I’ve met Valerie, and she’s told me her side of the story. It does not match what Vivian has told you.”
Zack turned to Gustavia, “While you were getting dressed, I did a quick records search. The marriage certificate and her children’s birth records are a matter of public record, easily accessible.” Zack continued, his comments now directed to his father. “She had no reason to lie. Her first child was born a year and a half after her wedding; she was never an unwed mother. Never.”
Bells On Her Toes (The Psychic Seasons Series Book 2) Page 17