Confessing to the Cowboy (10 page)

At least she had Cameron’s promise that Matt would be okay. Mary might not be around to watch him grow up, but she knew without a doubt that Cameron would see to it that he grew to be the kind of man who would make Mary proud.

Myriad thoughts—of not seeing Matt grow to a man, of missing him learning to drive, his first girlfriend or his prom, of not seeing him married, not enjoying grandchildren—nearly cast her to her knees with a keening grief.

“Are you okay?” Lynette asked her at closing time.

“I’m fine. Why?” Mary looked at the pretty waitress who had been practically dancing through her duties all evening.

“You just seem kind of withdrawn...quiet,” Lynette replied.

“And you seem unusually happy,” Mary countered, not wanting to think or talk about her own somber mood and the reasons for it.

Lynette smiled. “Denver was in earlier to eat. We went out last night and had such a good time together that he’s taking me into Evanston for dinner tomorrow night.” Her smile faltered slightly. “And Maddy came in after he left and spent her whole time eating and shooting me looks to kill.”

“So, she doesn’t want Denver, but she also doesn’t want anyone else to have him, either,” Mary said.

“Apparently,” Lynette replied drily. “But Denver told me he was the one who broke up with her, that he was finally done with her for good and he doesn’t need her money or anything else from her anymore. He’s ready to move on and find somebody who can really be his soul mate.”

“Just take it slow. Denver has a history of dating somebody new but also going back to Maddy,” Mary replied. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Lynette flashed her a bright smile, her eyes gleaming with a touch of cynicism and intelligence. “Don’t you worry about me, Mary. I’m not about to let some sweet-talking, sexy cowboy break my heart. It’s more likely that Maddy will come in here and stab me with a fork.”

Lynette laughed and shook her head. “At the very least I wouldn’t be surprised if she keyed my car or tried to poison my cat.”

“She is a nasty piece of work,” Mary agreed, thinking of the pretty blonde who had been given too much by overindulgent parents and now considered whatever she wanted her due.

Minutes later, with the café empty and Mary all alone, she hesitated before turning the Open sign to Closed and missed the fact that she knew Cameron wouldn’t appear at the door for a last cup of coffee of the night.

But why would he come back here tonight or any night for a bit of alone time with her? He probably felt nothing but disgust for her now.

She was a criminal, somebody who had run from the law. She was a killer, for God’s sake, and he was sworn to uphold the law.

The spark of chemistry she’d always felt whispering between them would now be gone. He would never look at her the same way again.

But maybe, just maybe, by coming clean to Cameron he might find a lead that would stop the killing of the innocent women who worked for her. Maybe the ultimate sacrifice she felt she’d made in telling Cameron her secret would count for something and the killer would be caught.

She double-checked to make sure all the doors were locked before heading to her own quarters. If what she believed was true, then somebody from her past was in town killing waitresses in a misguided, sick effort to punish her.

And sooner or later that same person would probably tire of killing surrogates and would eventually come after her. She checked on Matt, who was peacefully sleeping with Twinkie curled up at his feet and then she went into her own room to get out of her clothes and into the oversize T-shirt that she slept in.

Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. Maybe the card and the frog had simply been weird coincidences. Maybe there was nobody from her past seeking retribution after all these years.

If it wasn’t coincidence, then she hoped Cameron could use the information to find the killer that had followed her from her former life before he killed again.

However, she also realized that if the murders were happening for another reason then she had completely destroyed her life by confiding in Cameron.

* * *

He stood in the shadowed darkness by one of the cabins behind the café, his eyes narrowed as he saw the last light go off in Mary’s living quarters.

He knew that the sheriff had been there for part of the morning and wondered what, if anything, Mary had told him about her marriage. By now she had to have known that she hadn’t outrun her past. The anniversary card and the stuffed frog should let her know that she hadn’t run far enough to escape retribution.

Action—reaction. There were always consequences for your actions and he was here in Grady Gulch to remind her of that fact.

It had felt good to kill Candy Bailey and Shirley Cook. He’d taken great pleasure when he’d sliced Dorothy Blake’s throat, knowing that he was taking away from Mary, destroying the people who worked for her, the people she loved.

But the thrill of the kills were beginning to wear thin, like an endless preshow before the main event. Impatience tapped through his veins. He’d like to sneak into her room right now and end this...end her.

But he’d been so careful so far, and he knew impatience and impulse made mistakes. That’s how others had been caught before and he had no intention of ever being caught.

With Mary Mathis’s death, the reign of terror in Grady Gulch would come to an end, but it would take years before people stopped talking about the time when good women, when hardworking waitresses from the Cowboy Café were murdered in their beds. It would take years before they stopped talking about him.

Chapter 8

I
t was just after midnight when Cameron reared back in his chair and rubbed his tired, gritty eyes. He’d been on the internet for so long the words now swam before his strained eyes, but he’d wanted to be thorough.

And what he’d discovered didn’t jibe in any way with the story Mary had told him earlier in the day. Something wasn’t right and he was determined to get to the bottom of it. But it was too late tonight to contact Mary.

He powered down his computer, a deep weariness stabbing his back between his shoulder blades. He stood and stretched, working out the kinks that were a result of sitting too long in front of the monitor.

Once fully stretched out, he walked over to the printer and grabbed the pile of items he’d printed off throughout the evening in his research. He’d not only spent the afternoon and evening on the computer but had also made dozens of phone calls to California in an attempt to confirm Mary’s story.

He hadn’t told any of his other deputies what Mary had confided in him. He’d wanted to have all his ducks in a row before executing an old arrest warrant or instructing his men to investigate further, but his research had only made things muddier.

Crazy. Either she was crazy or there had been a cover-up of massive proportions. In any case, none of it made any sense.

With it being too late to confront Mary on everything he’d learned, he headed home. As he drove he found himself replaying the kiss he and Mary had shared. There was no question that it had stirred up a wild desire inside him, but he wasn’t sure whether she had kissed him with her own desire or with a form of unconscious manipulation in mind.

She’d been desperate not to be arrested, half-hysterical with the need for him to agree to take care of Matt should things go bad and she be sent away. It was possible all of that had combined to allow her to not only eagerly accept but also reciprocate his kiss.

When he reached home, still too wound up to go to bed, he made himself a ham-and-cheese sandwich and sat at the large kitchen table, remembering when the kitchen had been filled with Mary’s and Matt’s laughter. He almost wished Twinkie were here to break the empty silence of the house that surrounded him.

While he’d always had more than a little bit of a crush on Mary, he’d never really followed through with it by asking her out or attempting to create a real relationship with her. And he knew that for a long time part of the reason had been Bobby.

Bobby’s untimely death had nearly broken Cameron. He’d loved his brother like he’d never loved another human being. He’d always known he’d been a disappointment to his parents, but Bobby had made him feel like he was the greatest, like Cameron could do or be anything he wanted.

They had been best friends as children and had remained so until Bobby’s death. That death had made Cameron leery of relationships, fearful of loving and losing.

As much as he’d fantasized about having Mary and Matt here permanently, about having them in his life forever, the idea scared him just a little bit. Forever hadn’t lasted with Bobby. Forever hadn’t lasted for Candy, Shirley or Dorothy. Bad things happened and people disappeared.

Yet he couldn’t deny that Mary pulled him in, made him wish for things that both excited and frightened him. It had been her strength that had become his own after Bobby’s death when he’d plunged into a depression that had nearly overwhelmed him. She’d helped him through it and he’d come out whole on the other side, even more drawn to Mary than he’d been before.

He finished his sandwich, took a fast shower and then headed to bed, knowing that sleep would be a long time coming.

Surprisingly sleep must have come immediately for the next time he opened his eyes, it was to the early-morning light just beginning to streak bright pinks and oranges across the eastern horizon.

He didn’t linger in bed, but instead dressed quickly and headed out to his parents’ place. It was too early to do much of anything else but he knew his mother and father would be up. Despite their advanced age, they were ranchers, up before dawn and in bed just after dusk.

It was time for him to stop by for a quick visit even though the visits were rarely happy ones. Cameron always had the feeling that his parents believed the wrong son had died, that if given the opportunity they would easily sacrifice Cameron to have their precious Bobby back.

As he pulled up he was surprised to see Kevin Naperson, the young man who had initially been a suspect in the murders, coming out of the barn with a shovel in his hand.

He froze at the sight of Cameron’s official car, his breath visible in frosty puffs in the frigid morning air. He didn’t move as Cameron parked and got out of the car.

“I’m not doing anything wrong. Your dad hired me as a handyman around the place,” Kevin said before Cameron could say a word. Kevin raised his chin slightly, as if anticipating trouble.

Cameron had been all over Kevin’s ass when his girlfriend, Candy, had been found murdered, but with each subsequent murder and now with the information he’d gained from Mary he had little reason to believe Kevin had anything to do with any of the crimes.

“I’m sure Dad could use some extra help around here,” Cameron replied and then headed toward the front door, aware of Kevin staring after him.

As he stepped inside the house he was greeted by the scent of freshly baked biscuits and fried sausage mingling with lemon polish and lavender. It was a familiar scent, but he didn’t feel at ease. He walked through the living room that had once smelled like home, but that had been before Bobby’s death.

He entered the kitchen to find his father at the round oak table, a plate of biscuits and gravy before him. His mother hovered nearby, her face wreathing into a gentle smile as she saw Cameron.

She wiped her hands on the checkered apron she’d worn for breakfast-making for as long as Cameron could remember. “I knew there was a reason I made extra sausage gravy this morning. Sit.” She gestured him to an empty chair at the table. “You know how much you love my sausage gravy.”

Cameron sat at the table and smiled even though it had been Bobby who’d always loved their mother’s gravy. “Thanks,” he said as his mother put a cup of coffee at his elbow.

“Saw Kevin Naperson outside,” he said to his father, who hadn’t looked up from his plate since Cameron came into the kitchen.

“Things were getting away from me. Without Bobby around it was way past time that I hired on somebody to help with the chores and livestock around here.” Jim Evans finally looked up at his son, his weathered features expressionless.

“I can’t depend on you being around here to help out at all considering what’s going on in town. It sounds to me like you got your hands full with your own problems.” He focused back on his plate.

“Those poor women,” Edna exclaimed as she placed a plate of biscuits covered in steaming gravy in front of Cameron. “Do you have any clues?”

“Not many,” Cameron admitted.

“Sounds to me like you’re no better at sheriffing than you were at ranching,” Jim replied.

The arrow of pain that shot through Cameron wasn’t quite unexpected. He was finally becoming accustomed to his father’s hurtful quips...almost but not quite.

“I’m doing the best I can and that’s all I can do,” Cameron replied. The rest of the breakfast was filled with conversation between Cameron and his mother, who told him about everything that had happened with the neighbors, her best friend’s newest grandchild and how the forecast called for snow in the next week.

Halfway through the conversation Jim finished his breakfast and left the room without a parting word. A few minutes later Cameron heard the slam of the front door and knew that his father had left the house.

Edna sank down next to Cameron and covered his hand with hers. “Try not to let him bother you too much,” she said softly. “He’s a bitter old man and he talks mean to almost everyone these days. Bobby’s death broke something inside him and I don’t think he’s ever going to get fixed.”

“I know. It’s all right,” Cameron replied, but his mother’s words didn’t take away the fact that Bobby’s loss had forever transformed Cameron’s tenuous relationship with his father into something much worse.

After finishing his breakfast Cameron left his parents’ house and headed toward the Cowboy Café. It was late enough now that Mary would be open and he had important issues to discuss with her.

The café offered up warmth and savory scents, and as usual George Wilton sat at the counter, a cup of coffee between his wrinkled hands and a frown on his grizzly features.

“I’m telling you, Mary, the coffee is too weak. You need to use another scoop or something. Hell, I might just as well stay home and make my own damn nasty coffee if yours isn’t going to get any better than this.”

Mary nodded to Cameron and smiled at George. “I’ll try to remember to add an extra scoop when I make the next pot,” she replied. She left the old man and gestured for Ginger, one of the other waitresses working, to take her place.

As she approached Cameron, her gaze shot to the manila folder he carried and the smile that had curved her lips slowly faded.

“Can we talk privately?” he asked.

He saw her inhale a deep inward breath as if for courage and then she nodded and motioned him toward her back quarters. Thankfully Cameron knew Matt would have already left for school and they would be alone for this discussion.

Everything he had learned from the internet and by talking to the authorities in California the day before had created numerous questions that needed answers. Somehow he had to sort out the confusing mess she’d handed to him when she’d confessed to her husband’s murder.

When they reached her living room she turned to look at him, her blue eyes widened with obvious fear. “Mary, don’t look at me that way,” he said softly. “I’m not here to arrest you. I’m here to tell you that you didn’t kill your husband, that according to everything I’ve learned, Jason McKnight is still very much alive and well.”

Mary gasped in astonishment, her heart pounding a thousand beats a minute as she stared at Cameron in disbelief. She shook her head and back away from him. “I was there, Cameron. I saw him lying on the floor, I know how hard I hit him. Again and again I hit him with that fire poker.”

“But did you check his pulse before you ran? Did you see if he was still breathing? Or did you just assume he was dead and take off?” Cameron motioned her to the small kitchen table in the corner of the room.

She stared at him for a long moment and then moved to the table and sank down into a chair. After shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair, he sat next to her. She was acutely aware of his familiar woody-scented cologne and the body heat that radiated from him.

It was a single sensory sensation to cling to while the entire world whirled and shifted beneath her feet. Jason alive? Was it possible?

Had he still been alive when she’d packed the clothes for herself and her son? Had he still been breathing when she’d grabbed his wallet from his pants pocket and taken what money was there? Had he been conscious when she’d slammed out of the front door, running for her life and for her son’s life?

“I spent all day yesterday and most of last night on the internet and on the phone, trying to learn all that I could about the murder of Jason McKnight,” Cameron said as he placed the manila folder of papers in the center of the table. “And what I discovered is that there was no body, there was no investigation and there was no murder.”

She stared at his lips, as if afraid if she didn’t see them forming the words she wouldn’t understand what he was saying. “I...I don’t understand.”

Cameron opened the folder and pulled out what was obviously a printout from a news page from the
San Francisco Examiner
newspaper.

He shoved it toward her and she picked it up to see that it was dated on the day after she’d fled their home believing that she’d beaten Jason to death. Financial Wizard and Philanthropist Attacked in Park, the headline read.

The story indicated that Jason McKnight had been beaten and robbed in a neighborhood park near their home by an unidentified masked man. He’d sustained substantial injuries but was listed by the hospital in serious but stable condition.

Mary looked up from the article to Cameron. “But it’s a lie. He didn’t get those injuries from a robbery. I gave them to him. Why would he lie about the attack?” A million thoughts raced through her mind but the one that kept surfacing to the forefront was the utter joy in the realization that she hadn’t killed him, that she wasn’t a murderer after all.

She wasn’t going to go to jail. She wasn’t going to lose Matt. She’d be here with him to see him grow into the amazing man she knew he would be. She would be here for each and every special moment in his life.

“Maybe he lied because he didn’t want you arrested,” Cameron said, his gaze sober. “Maybe he wanted to make you pay in a way different than a jail sentence for assault.”

Mary stared at him, her joy short-lived as she realized the implications of his words. “Did you find any information about where he is now?”

Cameron shook his head. “All I know for sure is that he still owns the house in San Francisco where the two of you lived, but it’s now run by paid staff and he’s supposedly been living out of the country for years. A year after the attack he divorced you on abandonment issues.”

“Abandonment?” The entire world had gone mad and swallowed her whole. He’d divorced her on abandonment issues? At least she was no longer legally bound to the monster. “What about his business?”

“McKnight Enterprises moved to Switzerland six years ago and I had no luck finding anyone who could or would tell me Jason’s whereabouts during the last six months or so. Supposedly he’s there, but I have no proof that’s the case.”

“Then he’s here,” she said, her heart once again beating frantically.

“Would you recognize him after all this time?”

“Surely I would,” she said, her hesitation obvious in her voice. “His features are burned into my brain, at least the way he looked the last time I saw him. I’m certain I haven’t seen anyone here in Grady Gulch who even remotely resembles him. But he’s got to be behind this. He told me a hundred times when we were married that if I ever left him he’d hunt me down and kill me, that he’d make me suffer in ways I couldn’t begin to imagine.” Her voice cracked when she thought of the women who had died because of her...because of what she’d done to Jason. She’d had the temerity to stand up to him, to beat him down and leave him and she knew there would never be forgiveness or forgetfulness in his heart. And so three women were dead because she’d cared about them, because they’d worked in her café.