Kelly winced, and his face went rigid. “Wanna talk ladies?” The rasp in his voice chilled. “If you want to see Vera again, let me go. She’s with my men, but I’d have to hurry. They’ve got orders to dispose of her.”
First, Shultz had used money, and now Kelly tried to use Vera as a bargaining chip. Heat ripped across Mick’s chest. He grabbed fistfuls of Kelly’s lapel, pulling him to his knees.
Kelly returned Mick’s glare. “So what is it? Send me to the chair or get your girlfriend back?”
“Nice racket.” As his favorite girl would say. “But Vera’s safe.” He let go of the shirt with a shove and watched the realization hit Kelly like a blow to the gut. “And your men are in custody. If you come across Vinelli, thank him for me. All his information came in handy.”
Kelly cussed.
Voices sounded from inside the tunnel. “Looks like my men are collecting Ward Voss. I’d hate for him to miss out on the party.” Of all the assignments, this one was the most satisfying. One he’d have the privilege of telling his children and grandchildren. “Carson Kelly, you’re under arrest for the suspicion of murder and for the fraudulent manufacturing of government notes.”
CHAPTER 37
Morning sun danced over the emerald treetops. Dew hung from thick blades of grass, sparkling like crystals in the light. Vera pressed her finger to the page of Lacey’s Bible, keeping the breeze from lifting it.
Three weeks at Lacey’s and no news of anything. Just that Carson had been apprehended, but no savory details. No word about anyone, namely Mick.
“You’re up early, sugar.” Lacey shuffled onto the back porch, armed with a coffee pot. “Thought you might like some now that you’re feeling better. It’s freshly brewed.”
“No, thanks.” She stared at the steam twisting up from the pot, unable to suppress the remembrance curling around her heart. The morning Mick had handed her a mug of coffee, the last time she’d spoken to him—while she was coherent, anyway. She tried to throw the memory like a stone in the ocean of forgetfulness, but it kept resurfacing as though it was made of cork.
And her walking around with his blood in her surely hadn’t helped any. It was a steady reminder, keeping as close as her heartbeat.
Had Mick moved on? Was he back in his routine, glad to be rid of her? “Thank you for letting me use your Bible.” She closed the pages, letting the book rest in her lap. Someday, she’d get around to buying her own. Whenever she found a job. A place to live. An existence beyond Mick and memories. A thorny pain gathered in the back of her throat. “How were the fireworks last night?”
“Splendid.” Lacey set the pot on the metal table and reclined in the chair next to Vera. “I had a great spot on the church lawn with my lady friends. Fourth of July is one of my favorite holidays.” She tipped her head to the side, a smile brightening her aged face. “Wish you would’ve come.”
Vera had experienced enough fireworks in her own life these past few weeks, making the idea of explosives for entertainment unappealing. She’d been pain-free for four days now, and nothing could persuade her to risk a relapse just to hear a few kabooms and gawk at a colorful sky.
“You doing okay?”
“Yeah. No dizziness or nausea.” An excellent thing, considering the first week she’d contemplated ripping her head off. She ran a hand over the scab on the crown of her head where the stitches had been removed.
“That’s not what I mean.” Lacey scooted her chair closer. “I want to know if your heart is okay. I’ve seen with my own eyes the transformation between you and Mick. There’s no denying what you two share. You shouldn’t run from that, or from anything in life.”
Who was running? And what did they share? Not the same feelings. He was the one who’d agreed not to see her at the hospital. And that silent treatment had continued after her release. Lacey’s phone had been quieter than a mime convention. “I have run, Lace, but not this time.” She’d run from every problem, ranging from severe hardships to trifling arguments. Her heart had beat to a retreating drum all her life. “This situation is different. I can’t stop thinking of him. Especially here. Too many memories.” There, she’d said it. Didn’t help her feel any better, but at least Lacey could sympathize.
“Well, someone’s coming that’s gonna cheer you up.” Her face puckered in a conspiratorial smile. “Should be here any minute. I actually expected him sooner.”
“Him?” Was Lacey referring to Mick? Vera’s heart did a fevered version of the foxtrot against her ribs.
“My brother’s at his cabin this weekend. He arrived late last night.” Her blue eyes brightened. “He promised to take us to lunch in town today if you’re up for it.”
“Sounds swell.” She forced a chipper tone, hoping to mask her disappointment. As much as Vera adored Pops, the captain would only remind her of his sergeant. Maybe the time had come for Vera to move forward. Her health wasn’t at risk anymore, and her help was no longer needed on the solved case. Perhaps the only way to emotionally heal was to remove herself from this place.
The muted roar of an engine broke into her thoughts.
Lacey stood and smoothed the creases in her apron. “That must be him.”
Vera followed her friend around the house to the front yard.
A beige Model A Ford pulled up the lane, the sun bouncing off the windshield, forbidding her a glance at the driver. The automobile slowed to a stop, and a stout figure emerged.
“Andy!” Lacey shuffled to her brother’s side and pecked a kiss to his aged cheek.
“Hiya, Pops.” Vera shielded the sun from her eyes with one hand and waved with the other.
“Good to see you both.” He offered a warm smile. “Lacey, could I trouble you for some of that tasty lemonade you always have chilled?” He patted his pocket—from which an envelope peeked out—and directed his attention to Vera. “I have something important to discuss with this young lady.” His mouth turned down at the edges, and her heart squeezed in her chest.
A few minutes later, Pops was settled in the kitchen with Vera across from him. Lacey busied herself in the other room with her latest needlework.
The stark white envelope teased Vera from its spot on the table, daring her to snatch it up and get this over with.
“Open it.” The captain sipped his lemonade as if he wasn’t aware that Vera’s future was tucked inside a paper rectangle with bent corners.
The envelope no doubt contained a farewell message from Mick, probably written on the same letterhead as the note he’d given her on her birthday, his masculine scrawl telling her politely—but plainly—to have a nice life. Vera should be happy. This was exactly what she needed to help push her into the next phase.
“I want your opinion.” Eyes half-lidded, the captain cupped his elbow with one hand and tapped his chin with the other.
She wet her lips and scooped it up. Surely, Pops wouldn’t want to discuss Vera and Mick’s non-existent love affair. Maybe the man was as nosey as his dear sister. Her foot jittering against the table leg, she untucked the flap. Abraham Lincoln stared at her from inside. “It’s a five-spot.” Her shoulders lowered with a shaky exhale. It wasn’t a Goodbye, Vera letter.
“Take it out.” He leaned back in his chair. “Examine it.”
She withdrew the bill, turning it over and then tossing it onto the table. “Looks fine to me.”
“Kelly does good work, doesn’t he?”
She stiffened. “You mean that baby’s a fake?”
“Uh-huh. A genuine phony.” He smiled, the lines crinkling around his eyes. “Looks like Mr. Kelly had an operation bigger than we thought. With the club located on the river, he could disperse these babies across several states.”
Vera blew out her cheeks. “The big boy’s in some deep trouble. But why counterfeit five-dollar bills? You’d think he’d be rolling out the fifties and hundreds.”
The captain leaned forward and stuffed the fake back into the envelope. “Fives and tens can circulate without dra
wing attention. Kelly printed larger bills, but those went to the underground gambling joints. The unsuspecting customers would play the tables with their money, and if they won, the card sharks would pay out fakes. Brilliant plan, really. Because even if anyone found out, they couldn’t report it without getting themselves incriminated. You see?”
“To think, it’s all been under my shoes for years.” She clucked her tongue. “And you, my man, must have gotten a big slap on your back by your superiors.”
“All except the D.A. He got slapped with handcuffs for being Kelly and Voss’ silent third partner.”
Her jaw about fell onto her lap. “The D.A.? He was in on it?”
“Yeah, we’d had suspicions for a while that a counterfeiting syndicate was running rampant.” He grimaced, disappointment shadowing his eyes. “But when the letter went missing, I—”
“Letter?”
“Yes ma’am. We’d received a letter the week of the Kelly Club shooting, inferring some wrongdoings over there. It was anonymous, but the letter was postmarked from Steubenville.”
His words triggered the trap door in Vera’s memory. She shot straight in her seat. “He said that. He said that.”
“Who? What?” The captain jolted from his chair—quite spry for a man over twice her age—and grabbed a notepad and pen from Lacey’s drawer. He returned to his seat and poised his hand to write. “Go ahead, darlin’, and say it slowly.”
“Right before Artie got shot, Carson said I know about Steubenville.”
The captain scribbled something, then looked up, his glasses lower on his nose. “Shultz must’ve told Kelly, and he put two and two together.” He sighed. “Then put a bullet into Cavenhalt.”
Poor Artie. The lump in her throat crumbled into her heart. Maybe Millie would have some closure now. Vera would be sure to include both mother and daughter in her nightly prayers.
“Well.” He folded up the paper and slipped it into his front pocket. “Enough about this business. How about I take you and Lacey to an early lunch? My treat.”
“As long as you’re not paying with this Lincoln, then you’re on.” Vera gave him a cheeky smile.
Man, she was going to miss Pops. And Lacey. Her gaze strayed out the window at the tall pines. She could travel a million miles from this sap-laced forest, but it would never leave her.
CHAPTER 38
“Do you mind if we stop by my cabin for a minute?” The captain glanced at Vera in the rearview mirror.
She clutched her cross, her belly shrinking. She’d never been there without Mick.
“Won’t be too much of a delay,” Lacey put in. “Might be good for you, sugar, to see the place. Considering what you told me this morning.”
Could she visit the Boone cabin? Face the hurt?
Vera tapped her fingernails on the dark seat cushion in a spastic rhythm. Why was she jittery? It was just a house. Wood and nails. Forget it was the place she’d fallen in love. Her breath burrowed in her lungs and stayed there. Well, since she was in the neighborhood, she could pick up the heart she’d left behind.
Every jostle on the uneven road shook out more remembrances of her car rides with Mick. The way the gentle wind had played in his wavy hair. How he’d hang his hand out the window between downshifts. She dabbed the corner of her eye, hoping Pops didn’t catch her movement in the mirror.
The captain turned onto the drive leading up the hill. Everything looked the same except for the overgrown grass. The timbers stood tall, and their branches waved at her with the help of the summer breeze. Instead of driving farther to the cabin, Pops braked halfway up the incline.
“There it is, young lady. Just for you.”
Vera leaned forward and followed Pops’ gaze, directed at the line of pine trees. A wooden stool sat beneath the canopy of branches. A guitar—Mick’s Gibson—propped against the leg of the stool, and her breath squeezed from her chest. “I don’t understand.”
“Just go on, Vera.” Lacey’s gaze toggled between Vera and the scene outside. “And see for yourself.”
With a shaky hand, she opened the door and stepped out, her heels slightly sinking into the soft ground. The Gibson shouldn’t be resting in the damp grass. She moved swifter to retrieve it when Mick emerged from behind one of the pines.
Her breath went thin and patchy, a feverish fluttering in her chest.
The look of longing in his jade eyes was enough to whittle the strength from her. A million questions surfaced, but she couldn’t voice a single one.
A car rumbled behind her, and Vera glanced over her shoulder in time to see the sneaky duo of brother and sister make their escape down the hill.
She returned her attention to Mick, who now sat on the stool, his Gibson perched on his right thigh. With the tall pines as a backdrop, he locked her in his warm gaze and strummed.
“Though worlds apart …”
Oh mercy. She pressed a hand to her cheek. He was singing.
“Two hearts met under heaven’s stars.” His low baritone timbre filtered through her ears and seeped into her soul, luring her another step closer. “And for a moment, you were mine. When we danced beneath the whispering pines.”
The dance. He’d remembered. Tears beckoned, but she blinked them back. With each step, a chain around her heart snapped, falling to the wayside, allowing the gates to burst wide. Her pulse throbbing wildly, she stood exposed, but safe before the only man she’d loved.
“Let me be the one to prove, real love won’t run out on you.” His eyes glossed, and she adored him more for it. “Can I be the one to show, unending love is true?”
Did he understand what he was singing? The commitment behind the lyrics?
“Vera, will you be mine for a lifetime? Starting now, beneath the whispering pines.” He stopped, and Vera’s lungs seemed incapable of expansion. Silence hovered between them, both precious and excruciating.
“You said you needed a song.” The sides of his mouth hitched, but there was a vulnerability in his expression. “It’s all yours. And so am I.”
Her heart wobbled in her chest as every coherent thought vanished. She searched his face, as familiar as her own. “Mick, what are you saying?”
He stood and propped the guitar against the stool. “I’m saying the same thing I said in the pit of the Kelly Club.” Two of his long strides closed the gap between them. “Do you remember?” His eyes were a beautiful blend of seriousness and tenderness.
“The captain said you’d rescued me.”
“No, you rescued me.” He stroked her cheek with his knuckle. His touch awakened her, creating a thirst for more. “You were right. I couldn’t forgive myself. That’s what I wanted to tell you that morning in your apartment, but I never got a chance. I almost never had that chance again.” He moved closer, his breath fanning her cheek.
“I’m sorry I wouldn’t let you talk that morning.” She slid a lock of hair behind her ear. “I was certain you didn’t feel the same way for me as I did for you. Then when you didn’t contact me all these weeks, I—”
“The doctors insisted you needed to heal as calmly as possible. Any emotional upsets, good or bad, could delay your recovery. I’m sorry my silence hurt you.” His wounded gaze confirmed his words. “I wanted what was best for you. But believe me, I felt every second of our separation.”
She nodded and another tear escaped.
“When I was holding you in that gin joint basement, I felt myself dying with you, but God intervened.” He cupped her face, his calluses rough—but oh so perfect—against her skin. “When He saved you from dying, He saved me from having to live every day without you by my side.”
Her feet seemed to anchor into the ground. His presence so steady, so comfortable. She had no permanent residence, but he felt like … home. “You gave me your blood.” The breathy whisper escaped her heart. “How many times can one man save a girl’s life?”
A slow smile built. “If you’ll stay close for the next eighty years, we can keep a record.” He
grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers in hers. “I love you.”
The caverns of her soul stretched, and his words fell right in.
“I told you first in the Kelly Club basement, and I’ll tell you every day of my life if you’ll let me.”
“It’s true?” Vera slid her eyes shut, the realization opening like a flower after the rain.
“Oh, sweetheart. I know I lied before, but I need you to believe me.”
She wiped the tear away from her cheek just for it to be replaced by another. “I remember, Mick.” She buried her face in his shoulder. The quickened beat of his heart matched her own. “I thought I dreamt it. But it was true.” She was loved. By God. By Mick Dinelo. “You told me you loved me so much it hurt.”
“It still does.” He lifted her chin with his thumb. “That is, until you tell me that you feel the same way.”
“I love you too.”
He lowered his head, his lips hovering over hers. “May I kiss you underneath the whispering pines?”
“Yes.” If she didn’t melt into a puddle first.
Their lips met, and she swayed under the influence of his touch, pulling her in, inviting a response. Her fingers splayed on his chest, and he curled his arms around her waist. Her hands slid to his neck, the corded masculinity strong beneath her fingertips. She nestled in his embrace, savoring his love.
After years of struggling to make it through the day, she’d never looked forward to the future. Hope had become an empty word. But here, wrapped in Mick’s arms, her soul expanded to welcome tomorrow. Not only did she lean on Mick’s love, but she rested in God’s. Just like that verse said in Lacey’s kitchen—He rejoices over you with singing. She may not have always heard it, but it had been there, beckoning.
From this day on, life was in her song.
The End
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for reading The Red Canary. There are a gazillion stories out there, and so for you to give mine a chance is an honor I don’t take lightly. These notes are always a joy for me to write because it’s where I get to provide behind-the-scenes details of the book! So allow me to point out the factual from the fictional.
The Red Canary Page 27