Born Innocent (9 page)

“
You know, now you mention it, I am a little tired.” Joe gestured once more toward the open door.

“
This isn’t the end of it,” Wayne Leven said tightly. “One way or the other, it’s our job to find out who shot Alan Henson. If Ms. Snow won’t cooperate with us, then—”

“
Enough,” Sheriff Brawley said to his second-in-command. Then he spoke to Joe. “But he’s right. Chances are, we will be back.’ ’

Joe said, “I understand.”

Brawley and Leven went out the door.

When they were gone, Joe turned to Claire. “Are you okay?”

She nodded.

Her mother spoke up from right behind her. “Thank you for ending an... unpleasant interview, Joe Tally. And now my daughter and I would prefer to be alone.”

Joe looked pained. Claire knew he’d always respected her mother, though Ella invariably played the high-and-mighty lady of the manor any time he came near. “Mrs. Snow, I don’t think you realize the seriousness of this situation.”

“
Yes, I do. Of course, I do. I know exactly what’s going on here. They suspect Claire of... shooting Alan Henson. But of course, since she
didn’t
shoot him, everything will work out fine.”

“
Oh, will it?”

‘ ‘
Yes. Certainly. They will... investigate further and they’ll discover who really did this awful thing, and everything will be as it should be.”

“
I’m glad you have such confidence in the system, Mrs. Snow.”

“
Don’t be cynical with me, young man.”

“
I’m only pointing out that—”

Ella was waving her hand in that dismissive way of hers. “Never mind. We simply would like to be alone now. If you’ll just... be on your way.”

A rueful smile played on Joe’s lips. “No,” he said gently.

Ella gave a small start. “What did you say?”

“
I said no. I’m staying here. With Claire.”

“
Don’t be absurd. Claire doesn’t need you! I’ll be here.”

Joe shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Snow. But she does need me right now. I don’t think you’ve looked at all the sides of this situation. Though we all know Claire didn’t shoot Henson,
somebody
did.”

Ella was becoming indignant. “Well, of course,
somebody
did. I realize that. I’m not a fool.”

“
I just want to. ..hang around for a while, that’s all. Until we know better what’s going on.”

‘‘
There is no need for you to ‘hang around,’ ” Ella insisted. “I will be here.”

“
Mrs. Snow, in this situation, Claire could need more than her mother to watch out for her.”

“
This is ridiculous.” Ella puffed out her already considerable bosom. “I suppose I’m going to have to be blunt with you. You are not wanted here. We want you to—”

“
Mother.”

Slowly, Ella turned to look at her daughter. “What is it, Claire?”

“
Joe is staying.” The words were out almost before Claire realized she was going to say them.

“
What?”

Claire gathered herself and faced her mother. “I want him to stay.”

After all, she told herself, Joe was right. Just watching him get rid of Brawley and Leven had made her realize how much she
didn’t
know about what was happening to her. If he was willing to help her out now, she wasn’t going to turn him down.

Ella was sputtering. “B-but, Claire! You simply cannot let him—”

“
Yes, I can. I’m in trouble, Mother. The kind of trouble someone like Joe knows all about.”

“
I do not believe you’re saying this.”

“
Believe it. It’s true.”

“
I warn you, Claire. I will not stay here if he is here.”

“
I understand.”

Ella looked hurt and bewildered. She also realized she’d just trapped herself with her own ultimatum. “Well, then, I... I suppose there is nothing more to say.”

Claire reached out. “Mother, I—”

Ella jerked back. “No. Don’t try to placate me. I am firm on this.”

“
So am I.”

“
Well. Humph. That’s it, then.” Gray head high, Ella strode to the open front door. “Call me when he leaves.” And she was gone.

Claire went to the door and watched her mother until she disappeared at the turn to Sierra Street. She could hardly believe what she’d just done.

And she knew it could turn out to be a huge mistake. Her own motives were suspect. There was her own foolish love for Joe that simply refused to die—not to mention the baby he knew nothing about.

Yet he
was
her friend. He was willing to help, and he’d come to her side when she needed him—just as she had for him not too long ago.

Joe said from behind her, “She’ll be back.’ ’

“
I know.” Claire turned to face him. He had moved away, toward the couch and chairs grouped tightly on one side of the wide lobby. “What now?”

“
Got coffee?” He lifted a dark eyebrow at her. “I really didn’t go to bed last night.”

She nodded. “Come on. It’s all made.”

She led him back to her living room and got him a cup. He drank the coffee Ella had made for Sheriff Dan and Wayne Leven. Once he was on his second cup, Joe asked her to tell him the whole story of the night before.

She did, giving every last detail she could recall—until the point where she’d sent Verna home. Then she told a lie of omission, because she simply was not ready yet to tell Joe that their one night together had resulted in the most classic of consequences. She said only that she had felt cooped up in the cottage and had slipped out the back and gone for a walk in the dark, ending up at the river, where she went for a late-night swim. She told him she’d returned around one, which was the truth.

Joe watched her as she talked, and Claire couldn’t tell whether he believed her or not. Then he asked her to tell how she’d discovered the unconscious Henson in the bungalow. Once again, she went through the whole thing in
detail, from the call to Henson’s room at noon, until the ambulance arrived.

Then he asked, “What about the gun that shot him?”

Claire was puzzled. “What about it?”

“
Did they find it?”

Claire thought for a minute. “No. I didn’t see a gun when I found him. And I don’t think they found one, either.”

Joe, who’d been sitting in one of the wing chairs, stood up. Claire jumped a little at the swiftness of the movement.

“
Relax,” he soothed. “I just want to check something.”

He went out through the foyer and was back in minutes. “Where’s the .38 I made you buy, Claire?”

Claire stared up at him. A couple of years ago, there had been a rash of night robberies in the county. Joe had come in one day and insisted Claire buy a gun and learn to shoot it. He’d been so adamant that she’d done as he ordered, though she didn’t like guns at all. She kept it mounted where it was hard to see but easy to reach, beneath the counter.

She said just that. “It’s behind the counter... isn’t it?”

“
No.”

Fighting off a feeling that managed to be half numbness and half panic, Claire got up and went out to the lobby with Joe, where she saw for herself that the gun was not in its place.

“
Are you sure you didn’t move it?” he asked.

“
Yes. I’m positive. It was there...yesterday, I think.” Claire sank to the couch in the lobby. “Oh, Lord. In all the upset lately, I’m not really sure of anything. I
think
it was there yesterday....”

“
What about last night?” Joe wanted to know. “Are you sure you locked the back door when you left for your walk?”

“
Yes,” she said firmly. She did remember that. She’d had to stick her flashlight under her arm to have both hands free to engage the deadbolt. “Yes, I’m sure I locked the back door.”

“
And what about the front? Did you lock it before you went back to your own rooms?”

“
Of course I did. I
always
lock up.”

“
But what about last night specifically? Do you remember locking the front door last night?”

“
Well, I...” Claire searched her memory. Locking up was a rote series of actions. She did them every night. As a result, in her mind, one night blended into another. She must have done it, mustn’t she?

But then again, she’d been a wreck after what had happened with Henson, and the pregnancy test had been waiting. She couldn’t be absolutely sure that she hadn’t forgotten, with all that had been on her mind right then.

Joe was standing beside her. She looked up at him. “Oh, Joe. It was... a rough night.” She shook her head slowly. “I can’t be sure. Not absolutely.” A feeling of true hopelessness washed over her.

Joe sat down beside her, and took her hand. His touch felt warm and rough and good. She’d never in her life been so grateful for another person’s nearness.

She was terrified of this thing that was happening to her. It was like a nightmare, the worst kind of nightmare, one that seemed to become darker and more convoluted every minute. Right then, she longed to lean against him, to rest her head on his shoulder and drift off into forgetful sleep. She was sure that any real nightmares she might have while dreaming in Joe’s arms could never compare to what was happening in her real, waking world.

He seemed to read her mind. “Scared?”

“
God. Yes.”

He guided her head onto his shoulder. She sighed, and rested there. “Don’t be scared,” he whispered. “We’ll work this out. I swear it. It’ll be okay.”

He went on murmuring those soothing things she needed to hear, stroking her hair with one hand and holding her close with the other. His nearness was soothing for more than the soft words and the comfort of his touch. His nearness evoked memories—mostly of their one forbidden night—little, inconsequential thoughts that distracted her from her anxiety over what was going on right now.

She realized she hadn’t seen him smoke since that night they’d shared. Had he quit? She could smell the faint taint of tobacco on him, but O’Donovan’s back room was always smoky. If he’d been there all night, of course he’d smell of smoke.

“
Did you quit smoking?”

He chuckled. The sound reverberated against her ear. “Leave it to you to notice something like that.”

“
Did you?”

“
Yeah.”

“
How long ago?”

“
About six weeks.”

She smiled against his shoulder, and refused to wonder if the time coincided with their magical night together. “Good going, Tally.”

“
It was nothing, Snow.”

She was quiet. Then, “How’s your shoulder?”

“
All better.”

“
That’s good.” She closed her eyes. And on the velvet darkness of her inner lids, she saw the snowy bandage against his tanned skin, remembered the hardness of his muscles beneath her hands, the rough, strong way he’d entered her body, thrusting so deep that she’d cried out in an agony of pleasure.

She couldn’t stop her foolish heart from wondering what he would do now if she tipped her head up and begged for his kiss, if she turned enough to rub her breasts against him, if she—

Claire cut off the dangerous thoughts. Gently, so he wouldn’t suspect what had been going through her mind, she lifted her head from the cradle of his shoulder.

Their eyes met. His were amber fire. She knew that he knew exactly what she had been imagining.

But all he said was, “Feel better?”

“
Yes, thank you. Much better.”

And she realized it was true. She felt stronger just from having rested against him for a few moments. Her mind felt clearer than it had since she’d pushed open the unlatched door to Henson’s bungalow. She spoke with new spirit.

“
You know, my missing gun could be a coincidence.”

He smiled. “You’re right.” He went on to suggest, “Why don’t you call Amelia and Verna to make sure neither of them happened to move it?”

She stood up, full of fresh strength and purpose. “I will. I’ll call them right now.”

“
Good. And while you’re at it, has anyone else you can think of had the opportunity to take it?”

She thought over his question. Then, “Until yesterday, no.
”

“
Okay, then. Let’s start with first things first. Call Verna and Amelia.”

Claire followed his instructions. She was lucky to reach both of her employees at their homes. Amelia, who still sounded somewhat hysterical, said she hadn’t touched the gun, and couldn’t remember the last time she’d noticed if it was where it should be. Verna, like Claire, thought she remembered seeing the gun in its place yesterday. Like Amelia, Verna claimed she hadn’t so much as touched it.