Colder Than Ice (17 page)

“And what was the basis of this falling out you and she had?” She was standing by the fireplace now, but she never took her eyes off him. God, those eyes. Huge and green and searching. They were hungry, her eyes. Longing for something he couldn't have named.

He swallowed hard. “My divorce. Maude thought I should try to work things out with Kathy.”

“But you told me you were divorced when Bryan was still a baby.”

He nodded. “That's true. But Maude didn't cut me off entirely until my ex-wife remarried. It was only then she realized a reconciliation wasn't going to happen. And she blamed me for Bryan being moved so far away she couldn't see him anymore.”

Beth nodded slowly. He thought she was buying his story—so far. “She wouldn't have cut Bryan out of her life just because she was angry with you, though.”

“No, of course not. Bryan was cut out of her life by distance. Maude wasn't in any position to travel out there.”

She watched him as he spoke—so intently his flesh heated.
She watched his eyes, the movement of his mouth as he formed words. She watched him the way a hawk watches a wounded rabbit. One slip, and she would swoop in for the kill, and his cover would be her prey.

“Maude's more stubborn than that,” she said. “She wouldn't have just let go.”

“Well, they kept in touch. Letters, phone calls.”

She nodded. “Then why are there no photos of Bryan?”

“I'm sorry?”

“Where are the school pictures, the holiday photos? Where are Bryan's letters? Shouldn't they be all wrapped up in a ribbon and tucked in a candy box somewhere? I went all through this place this morning, Josh, and I didn't find a thing. Not a hint of Bryan or a hint of you.”

He lowered his head, unable to withstand the power of her probing stare. “Maybe she was angrier than I thought.”

“‘Life's too short to waste time on a nasty thing like anger,'” she said. “That was one of her favorite sayings.” She shook her head slowly. “I can't imagine Maude holding a grudge like that.”

“Well, I've known her a lot longer than you have.”

“Yeah. That's true.” She wandered through the dining room and into the kitchen.

Josh followed. “Maybe she just couldn't bear to have the photos around. Maybe they were too painful. Then again, this house is huge. Maybe you just haven't looked in the right places yet.”

That was the easiest one for her to swallow. He could tell by the pause in her steps as she crossed the kitchen.

“Were you as close to Sam?” she asked.

Sam, Sam. Who the hell was—right, Maude's husband. He dug into his brain for the conversations he'd had with the old
woman. She'd filled him in on so many things, given him all sorts of personal details he could use to convince Beth he really was who he said he was. And then he remembered what she had told him about Sam.

“Sam…wasn't as fond of kids as Maude was. I think that made me less fond of him.” He paced to the counter, poured himself a cup of the fresh coffee and sat at the table. “That's why they never had children, you know. Sam didn't want any.”

Beth blinked at him. “I didn't think anyone knew that but me,” she said softly.

“I knew,” Joshua said. And it was the truth. Maude had told him. “And I think I always kind of resented him for it. She would have been a great mom.”

That did it. He had her. She believed him; it was all over her face. Thank God.

“Are you going to read that letter she left for you with her lawyer?” he asked.

Beth blinked, maybe surprised by the change of subject. She took the letter from the pocket of her jacket, slid her fingers along its edge. “I'm almost afraid to.”

“Go on. Read it.”

Licking her lips, she sank into a chair beside his, set the envelope on the table and slid it across to him. “You do it.”

“You sure?”

She nodded.

“All right.” Josh tried to hide his relief that the subject of his relationship with Maude had been successfully sidetracked and gently opened the envelope. He tugged the handwritten sheets from it and unfolded them. And then he read aloud. “‘Dear Beth, if you're reading this, then I must be gone. On my way to some great adventure. And you probably know that my
house, the place that has been my haven for more years than I can count, is yours. It's my fondest wish that it will shelter and protect you as it has always done for me. A house isn't just a pile of boards and nails, you know. Mine isn't, at least. It has a soul, a life all its own. A life I'm entrusting to you.'” Josh looked up to see Beth wiping a tear from her eye. “You okay? Should I keep going?”

She sniffled, nodded.

He kept reading. “‘You have to live your life the way you see fit, I'm not such an old fool that I don't know that. But I can tell you what I wish for more than anything else. I wish for you to return the gift I've given you by giving one to me. Fix the place up, Beth. Repaint the sign that hangs on the lawn and reopen the Blackberry Inn. Give life back to the old place and it will return the favor a thousand times. I guarantee it. It will breathe new life into you, too, Beth. Stop hiding from your past, and instead, look forward with open arms to your future. Open your heart again. You'll never regret it. And know that I will always be grateful that you came into my life, and that if there's a way, I will watch over you always. All my love, Maude.'”

Josh felt his own throat getting tight on those last words. He refolded the note, replaced it in the envelope and slid it back across the table to her.

Beth's tears were flowing freely now. “She had a way of imposing her will on everyone. She really did it this time, waiting until I couldn't argue with her.”

“She sure did.” He was uncomfortable with her weeping. He wanted to take away her pain. He got out of his chair, went around the table, put his hands on her shoulders. “Think you can do what she wants?”

She let her breath out in a rush—in response to his hands on her, he thought. “The furnace has to be replaced. It broke down three times last winter. The floorboards on the front porch, too. The whole place needs to be painted, missing shutters replaced, woodwork restained.” She shook her head slowly. “I could do it. It would take every bit of my savings and maybe a small loan to boot, but I could do it.”

“Will you?”

She closed her eyes. “I can't even think about that until this thing with Mordecai is settled.”

“I don't think you should wait. I think you should do what Maude said, stop running from the past, embrace the future instead. If you want this—stay and fight for it.”

She nodded slowly.

“What will you live on, if you drain your savings?”

“My tutoring provides a steady income. Not a lot. But I could take on more.”

He sighed. “I wish I could make this better.”

“You can't.”

He swallowed hard, thinking the decent thing to do would be to offer to take his son and leave. It was her house now; they'd been Maude's guests. Only they hadn't
really
been her guests at all. She'd let them in only because he had convinced her Beth was in danger. Their presence here might have gotten the old woman killed. God, it knotted his insides to know that. If he offered to leave now, he was afraid Beth would take him up on it and end up the same way. He couldn't risk that.

He had to save her.

“I have to call the funeral home. Chief Frankie said Maude made her own arrangements, but still—”

“I can do that for you,” he offered.

“I should order flowers.”

“I can do that, too. Right after I finish with the funeral home. Just tell me what kind she would have wanted, and what you want on the card.” He was massaging her shoulders now, feeling like a trainer in a battered boxer's corner.

She lifted her head, looking over her shoulder at him. “Maybe we could do it together.”

“Okay.”

“She liked daisies,” she said. “Those gaudy Shasta daisies in the bright, unnatural colors. I wonder if we can get them.”

“We can get whatever you need. If they don't have them here, I'll call someone in Manhattan and have them sent out here.”

She sighed, giving in to the pressure of his hands, and let her head fall forward. “I'm not used to accepting help like this. I'm not very good at it. And I'm not comfortable with it.”

“Yeah, well, I'm not asking permission to help you through this. I'm just doing it. So don't start thinking you've got a choice in the matter.”

“I hope you are what you say you are, Josh.”

“That's exactly what I am. Now, why don't you go on upstairs, get showered up and changed? While you're doing that, I'll call the funeral parlor, and when you're ready, I'll drive you into town and we can go to the florist.”

“All right.” She got up from her chair, but faltered a little, gripping the back of it as if her knees were weak.

Josh closed his hands on her shoulders, and then, before he thought better of it, pulled her close, let her rest against him. She stiffened at first, but just when he was thinking this was a very bad idea, she relaxed and lowered her head to his chest, even, timidly, slid her arms around his waist. He closed his eyes against the feel of it even as he held her a little tighter. So small,
so fragile in his arms. Amazing that this woman had survived that raid and a bullet from a high-powered rifle tearing through her. It should have ripped her in half. Should have killed her.

He had believed it had—believed he had snuffed out the very life he now held in his arms. That must be why it felt so good to hold her. It reaffirmed to him that she was alive when he could feel her, warm and breathing, her heart thudding strong and steady against his chest.

“I think I'm more afraid of you than I am of Mordecai,” she whispered.

The words hurt more than they ought to.

“Ridiculous, isn't it?”

“Beyond ridiculous, Beth. If you haven't figured it out yet, I, uh…I like you quite a lot.”

“So did he.”

He lifted his head, stared down into her eyes.

“But at least with Mordecai I always knew exactly what he was. Dangerous. Insane. With you—I get the feeling I don't even have the first clue.”

“What can I do to make things easier?”

She lifted her head, stared into his eyes, and he could see her answer there. She was pleading without a word.
Just tell me the truth.
Her eyes were so needy he couldn't help himself. He lowered his head and kissed her, deeply, slowly, and more tenderly than he could remember ever kissing anyone in his life. She tasted of grief and teardrops and fear. And she trembled in his arms.

When he lifted his head away, she said nothing, just stared up at him, her eyes probing for a long moment. Then she turned and hurried away from him, through the doorway into
the dining room, beyond it to the living room. He heard her footsteps retreating up the stairs and the closing of her bedroom door, and he knew damn good and well he hadn't given her the answer she wanted. The answer she needed.

He lifted a fist to slam it into the wall and just barely stopped himself before bringing it down. He hated lying to her. Hated it.

He lowered his hand, shook his head and reminded himself that he was only doing what he had to do. He'd destroyed this woman's life once. This time he was here to protect her. It looked as if he might have to break her heart to do that, but that was a small price to pay for keeping her alive.

Hell, why couldn't anything ever be simple?

He was distracted by a knock on the front door. He went to it to find Chief Frankie and one of her officers, each carrying a box. Other boxes were in the open trunk of Frankie's car. The boxes held Beth's belongings, he realized. All she had left from the wreckage of her house. The wreckage of her life.

B
eth turned on the shower but didn't get in. Instead, she tiptoed down the hall and, giving a quick glance down the stairs, caught a glimpse of Josh with the telephone in one hand and the Blackberry-Pinedale telephone directory in the other. Swallowing her fear, she kept moving along the hall to the room he was using and quickly slipped inside.

His bed was made. Not neatly, but made. Maude's quilt, patterned with little patchwork houses, was spread over the pine four-poster bed. Knotty pine dresser, matching rocker. Brown carpeting. She went to the dresser and slid open the top drawer, pawed through the socks and underwear there. The next drawer held shirts, and the third one jeans. She went to the closet and searched that. Two suits, some dress shirts, a couple of ties, shiny black shoes standing toe-to-toe with brown leather Timberland work boots. Frowning, she looked closer. Hell, those were not
cheap suits. Maybe he'd underplayed the size of his consulting business.

Interesting.

There was a briefcase on the overhead shelf in the closet. She pulled it down and pressed the button, but it didn't open. Locked. Dammit. And not a key in sight. It was as she was putting it back that she bumped against one of the suits and was surprised by the weighty object that bumped back. Frowning, Beth set the briefcase carefully in its spot and ran her hands over the suit, then realized something was inside it. She released the jacket's button, opened it to see the trousers, neatly pressed and suspended from an inner hanger. But that wasn't alarming at all. What
was
alarming, was the gun. Its holster was suspended from the coat's hanger by a long leather strap. The gun it held was large and black.

“What the hell are you doing with a gun, Joshua Kendall?” she whispered. A lot of people had guns, she reasoned. Shotguns, rifles. Few people saw the need to own a handgun. She'd had handguns. But she also had damn good reasons. What reasons did Joshua have?

Josh's footsteps came quickly up the stairs, and her blood rushed to her feet.

“Hell.” She closed the closet door fast, then darted into the adjoining bathroom and closed the door loosely. Then she hurried to the other side of the bathroom and opened the other door off it, stepping into Bryan's room. Thank God the boy was out.

She closed his door behind her just as she heard Josh entering his bedroom. Then she slipped through Bryan's room toward the door and the hallway beyond it. But she stopped short when she saw the item on the floor, a white strap just
peeking out from beneath the bed. If she didn't know better she would think that was a…

She bent and picked it up.

“Bra strap,” she muttered, as she pulled the white bra from under the bed. “Oh, my God.”

Licking her lips, she glanced nervously toward Josh's room, could hear him moving around in there. Telling him was out of the question, at least until she could be sure just what was going on with Bryan and how Joshua would react.

A voice in her head told her that just because he had a gun, it didn't necessarily mean he was dangerous.

But until she knew for sure…

Besides, if she told him about the bra, she would have to explain what the hell she was doing in Bryan's room in the first place. No. She wouldn't say anything just yet. There was enough strain between him and Bryan already.

She would have a chat with the boy herself. She shook her head slowly, wondering how Bryan had managed to hook up with a girl already. Had to give the kid credit, she thought. He worked fast.

She wadded the bra up in her hand and carried it with her as she slipped into the hall and back to her own room, where she tucked it into a drawer for safekeeping. Better than leaving it for Josh to find, should he happen to walk into Bryan's bedroom. Then she stepped into her own bathroom and took her time in the shower.

 

“Now remember the cover story,” Bryan said, totally ignoring the little voice in his head that was telling him he sounded just like his father. “You're just passing through town, on vacation with your family, who stopped to enjoy
the scenery and are thinking about staying for a couple of days.”

“I know, I know, and you and I just happened to meet,” she said, rolling her eyes.

He nodded in approval, choosing to ignore her sarcastic tone. “And I'm here because Maude was a relative.”

Dawn crossed her arms over her chest, tipped her head to one side. “I thought that
was
why you were here.”

“It is.”

“Then why are you rehearsing it?”

“I'm not.”

“Yes, you are. That's exactly what you're doing. You're drilling yourself as if your cover story is as bogus as mine.”

“Look, you're the one who said Beth might be in trouble. That someone might be after her. I'm just trying to help you out here.”

“And I'm glad for the help—not that I need it,” she added quickly. “But meanwhile, how do I know you're not an informant or something?”

He gaped at her, astonished he was as lousy at this spy game as he was. God, she saw through him already.

“Hey!” someone called. It was a teenage boy, one of the small group who'd been tossing a football around in the town park when Bryan and Dawn had arrived. He was heading toward them, blond and bulky, and while he offered a friendly smile, it was aimed at Dawn, not Bryan.

“Hey,” she replied.

“You new in town?”

“Just passing through. Family vacation—you know how that goes.” She shook her head and tossed her hair. The wind picked it up, adding to the magic of the action.

“Boy, do I. You here for long?”

“They're undecided on that. I'm Dawn, by the way.”

“Tim,” he replied. “This your brother?”

“No,” Bryan said before she could reply. “I'm
not
her brother.” Did that sound a little hostile? What the hell had brought that on? The guy outweighed him by twenty pounds, and his pals were heading this way now.

“Wait,” Tim said. “I've seen you around town. You're the one stayin' out at the old Bickham place.” He'd looked a little huffy at first, but that look vanished now. “I was sorry to hear about Mrs. Bickham. She was a really nice lady.”

“You knew her, huh?”

“Yeah, I shovel her driveway for her in the winter.” He smiled. “She always paid me on time and sent me home with a box of cookies or fudge or something. I really liked her.”

“Me, too,” Bryan said. And that, at least, wasn't a lie.

“You guys wanna get in on a game?”

Bryan glanced at Dawn. “Touch or tackle?” she asked.

“You're gonna say no if I say tackle, aren't you?” Tim replied with a grin.

“Not if you don't mind getting hurt.”

He laughed, nodded toward the others who'd gathered around them, two other girls and three guys. “Touch. The local girls don't trust us guys not to tackle them for the wrong reasons.”

“Hey, they know you better than I do.”

Tim laughed out loud and rattled off a pile of names that Bryan tried to commit to memory—without much luck. They played touch football in the park for the next hour and a half, and he had to admit, it was fun—except for the way the other guys were flirting with Dawn. He didn't care much for that. Not
that he had any interest in her—okay, maybe he did, but that wasn't why it bothered him. It was a matter of principle. For all these guys knew, she might be his girlfriend, but they acted as if they didn't care. Then again, the local girls didn't seem too thrilled with the situation, either.

It was after the game, when they were all sitting in the grass sipping Cokes from the cooler someone had brought, that one of the girls, Melissa, asked Bryan, “So how come you're not in school? You graduate or quit?”

“Neither. I just don't want to commit until I know how long we're gonna be here,” Bryan said, thinking his words through before speaking. “I'm taking tutoring from Beth Slocum so I won't fall too far behind.”

Shelly, the other girl, lowered her head. “She's great, isn't she? She tutored me all last summer. Got me out of summer school. I just wish my stupid mom wasn't making me drop her.”

“All because of rumors,” Melissa put in. “I mean, God, I
know
a stoner when I see one, and Beth Slocum is no stoner.”

Bryan shot a look at Dawn. She looked angry and about to speak, so he cut her off before she could. “I gotta agree with you there. Dawn, you would, too, if you'd ever met her.” She met his eyes, got the message. She wasn't supposed to know Beth. She bit her lip. “So who says she's a stoner?” Bryan asked, returning his attention to the other two girls.

“Who the hell knows? Gossip, you know. Someone heard that someone said that someone else heard, blah blah. Grownups in this town have too much time on their hands, if you ask me.”

“The way I heard it, she was fired from her last teaching job for dealing drugs to students,” Tim said. “Weed.”

“That's what I heard, too,” another of the boys put in. Peter,
Paul, something like that. “Only I heard it was coke. They're saying that's why she's not teaching anymore.”

“Still, it's nothing but rumors. I mean, I don't know why my mom is being such a total bitch about it,” Shelly said.

“She's not the only one. From what I heard, Ms. Slocum will be lucky to have any students left by the time the week is out.”

“It's not exactly fair,” Dawn said. “I mean, if they don't even have any proof—”

“Yeah, I was saying the same thing at first,” Peter-Paul said. “But then her house got blown up, and even I started wondering what the heck was going on. I mean, they're saying it was a gas leak, but that kind of thing doesn't just happen, does it? It's more like something out of a movie. You know, like maybe she screwed her supplier or had a meth lab in there or something?”

“Oh, come on. What do you think, she's in the mob or something?” Melissa asked.

“I was in that house for tutoring,” Shelly said. “It was tiny. If there was a meth lab, I'd have seen it.”

“Me, too,” Bryan said.

The boy shrugged. The third male, Greg, had been silent up to now. He was mostly quiet, blond, skinny, glasses, totally sucked at football. But he spoke now. “I heard someone say she might have had something to do with Mrs. Bickham's death, too. Said maybe the old woman found out something, you know?”

“You have got to be kidding me!” Shelly snapped. Dawn looked ready to hit the kid. “That's the stupidest thing I ever heard. Mrs. Bickham was ninetysomething. Sheesh!”

“Seventy-eight,” the skinny one said. “And I didn't say I believed it. I just said I heard it.”

Shelly rolled her eyes. “I don't care what anyone says. I like
Beth Slocum, and I don't believe a word of it.” She pursed her lips.

“She owns the old Bickham place now,” Tim said. “That's what my dad heard, anyway. Damn lucky timing, with her own house gone.”

“Yeah, damn lucky,” Greg the Geek said.

“You and your father are still staying there, aren't you?” Tim asked Bryan.

“Yeah.”

“So what do you think?”

“I think if she found a joint in the house she'd kick ass and take names. She's straight up.”

Tim nodded, his face serious. “I don't know her, but from what I've seen, I think you're right.”

“I know I'm right.”

“She's hot,” Peter-Paul said, and when every female there turned to glare at him, he added. “For her age, I mean.”

Tim and Greg nodded in agreement. “Anything up…you know, between her and your old man?”

“Like I'd tell you guys if there was?” Bryan asked. “Sounds like she's got enough trouble with gossip already.” He got to his feet, knowing it was time to leave. He had to relay all this information to his father as soon as possible.

“Shit, you guys can be so tacky!” Melissa put a hand on Bryan's arm. “Don't leave, Bry. They're not complete jerks. Not all the time, anyway.”

Dawn cleared her throat, and Bryan looked her way, only to see her frowning at the pretty redhead with her hand on Bryan's arm. Dawn said, “We have to go anyway. I promised my mom I'd be back in an hour, and I've been gone for three. And, uh, Bryan, you did promise to walk me back.”

He blinked. Was she delivering a not so subtle message to Melissa? Hell, that made his day. “Yeah, we should go. Maybe I'll see you guys around,” he said to the others.

“You should come to school, Bryan,” Tim said. “You're no slouch on the field. We could use you on the football team.”

“I'll think about it.”

“Cool.” Bryan reached a hand down to Dawn, who was still sitting on the ground. She reached up and took it, and he went warm all over as he tugged her to her feet.