Darker Than Desire (15 page)

Settling his weight back on his hands, David tried to decide whether or not he wanted to talk to her. He had no desire to tell her anything, but sooner or later he supposed he'd have to give them something. If he didn't, they'd just keep at it; plus, they'd also keep hassling Lana.

Lana was going to have to deal with them on some level, anyway. But if he gave them enough to satisfy them, maybe they'd leave her alone.

He'd already ruined enough of her life. Now that she was finally trying to put it back together, he sure as hell didn't want the past to interfere. Not if he could stop it.

And he didn't want it messing with Max, either.

What if they decide to mess with you
? It was a quiet voice, one that murmured from the back of his mind, but he brushed it aside. If they decided to place the blame for all of that on him, it was no more than he'd expected and far less than he deserved.

He'd deal with that when and if it came to it.

He debated a few more seconds and then shrugged. It was going to come out. Sooner or later. Much better, he figured, if he controlled the circumstances. “I was going to run away. I reckon you can imagine why.”

Something that might have been surprise briefly lit Jensen's eyes, but then it was gone. “You wanted to get away from your father.”

“Yes. It was that, or kill myself. Lana…” He paused, searching for the words. “She'd figured out what was going on. She had planned to give me money, knew of a place where I could go. We'd gone there to meet. My mother heard of it somehow and followed us. We got into a fight—physical. My mother had a gun, called my father.” His lip curled as he thought of it. “She told him there was a
problem
. She would deal with the problem, but he had to come and get me.”

He watched as Jensen reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, black notebook. She made notes as she started to fire off questions. “She had a gun? You saw it?”

“Clear as I see you now,” he said softly, the image settling in his mind. “She had it pointed at Lana.”

“Was Lana this problem?”

With a tight smile, he said, “Of a sort. Ol' Pete was coming to get
me
. She didn't call Jimmy Rossi and tell him to do something about his recalcitrant daughter. My
mother
was going to handle that particular problem.”

“What happened?”

“We tried to run.” That wasn't the exact truth. He remembered how he'd felt. The fear and how, not for the first time, it had bled into rage. Anger had grabbed him before that—grabbed him and held him in a choke hold, one that blinded him to anything and everything else. But in that moment, he'd been clearheaded. Clearheaded and ready to kill. Diane had looked at him, really
looked,
and he'd seen the shock in her eyes. It had felt good. He remembered that, too.

“What then?”

Blinking, he turned his head. The sight of Jensen standing there threw him for a moment. He'd felt lost to those memories. To
that
memory. Seeing his mother go down. Hearing the crack, the shatter of glass. He'd lunged for her and she'd brought up her feet, kicked him. He'd gone down and she'd moved, grabbed one of the shards of glass from the floor.

He could still remember how it had felt when it went in. How it had felt to look into her eyes as she did it.

It had been almost a relief.

She hadn't ever loved him, and he knew that.

But in that moment, he'd been able to let go of any idea that he should love
her
. As blood spilled out of him, he'd almost felt free. But then Diane had turned on Lana and he lunged for her.

Diane was dead.

Somebody would probably have to answer for that.

If they tried to go after Max …

No.

Decision made, he studied Jensen from under his lashes. Everything he said here could be proven in one way or the other. The scar he had was old, but it didn't look like anything he'd done shaving or working on the farm.

Lana didn't remember much and she'd been out of it after hitting her head.

And Max …

Grimly, David focused on the river.

Maybe if he did this, it would help lift some of the weight he dragged around. He felt no guilt over what had happened to his parents, didn't wonder how much his dad might have suffered before Max put him out of his misery. He didn't regret their loss at all.

But he had almost choked over the guilt about what he'd done to Lana's life. Now he had a chance to fix some of it, he hoped. By just telling the truth he'd hidden for so long.

Averting his gaze, he focused on the river, the way sun glinted off of it, so bright it almost blinded him. “She had the gun pointed at Lana. She was going to shoot her. I ran at her, knocked her down. She dropped the gun. I would have done more—attacked her, I guess. But she kicked me and I was on the ground, bleeding. There was glass—a window. I guess a window busted, a bullet went through it or something. Broken glass, everywhere. She had a big shard of it and got up, shoved it in me. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe for a minute, it hurt so bad. Then she got up, went after Lana, cut her with that glass. I was trying to get up. Lana hit her. She went down. We got out. Tried to run.”

He'd let it go at that for now. It was all the truth, and if he was going to do what he planned to do he wanted to take his time, make sure he gave everything in one piece, had it all together in his head.

Aware of the intense scrutiny, he looked up and met Jensen's eyes. One dark brow arched. “Just like that.”

“Excuse me?”

“Both of you injured, and you run. Just like that.”

“We sure as hell tried.” He shrugged easily enough, went back to studying the river. He thought of the rusted-out wreck that was still tucked in one of the barns over on Abraham's land. By now, David couldn't even get the engine to turn over. He'd tried, once, a few years ago. Out of everything he'd owned, that car was the one thing he'd valued. Because every now and then he'd thought about the freedom it offered.

Not that he'd ever thought of running—not until Lana. He'd get caught; he knew that. If he ran, they'd find him, bring him back. But there were other kinds of freedom. Taking that car, speeding down those winding roads that ran through southern Indiana. Pressing on the gas, at just the right moment. Ignoring the brakes. He could have flown. Free, for the first time in his life. And it would have all ended.

He'd never done it, of course. His sorry ass was still here.

But the car had promised freedom. Then it was a reminder.

One he hadn't been able to let go of.

The backpack and everything he had tucked in it that night were still secure in the trunk. He'd thrown the keys in the river one night, desperate, half-ready to throw himself into the water as well. But he didn't need keys to pop open a trunk.

“Yeah,” he murmured, half lost in the memories. “I would have run. Just like that. I had my car, had the money. Thought of finding a hotel. But Lana was hurt. I was hurt. We needed to find help. Get off the road.”

“This isn't coming together for me,” Jensen mused, tapping her pen on the notebook. “Didn't the judge hear any of that noise?”

“You'd have to ask him,” David said levelly.

“He never said anything to you?” She shook her head. “That's another thing that's not coming together. I think there's something between the two of you. Seeing as how you're here, at his place.”

Something between the two of you …
David narrowed his eyes. The chief hadn't told her. “Meaning…?”

“You get my meaning. You and the judge have some sort of connection. What is it? I've seen the two of you together. More than once. Seen you out here, in hundred-degree weather even, dealing with those flower beds, cutting the grass. The flower beds are a real puzzle. Both of you do it and then Miss Mary—that poor soul—she'd be out here within a week, whistling up a tune as she pulled up every single flower. Then either you or him would be planting the damn flowers all over again. Sometimes it was almost a race to see who'd do it first. I always passed it off as a kindness on your part, but then … well. If you have a kind bone in you, you hide it. It goes deeper than that. What is it, David?”

“Maybe I just have a green thumb.” David bared his teeth in a mockery of his old friendly smile.

“Now you see, I'd like to buy that. But I can't. You two have a history and I'm thinking it's a long one. Like twenty years long.” She ran her tongue across her teeth, her brows drawn low over her eyes. “I think he knew. About that night. About your mother—was she—”

Her phone rang. She pulled it from the case at her belt and gave it a distracted look, her gaze coming back to him for only a second before it went back. She frowned and took the call.

As she answered, he heard a phone inside the house ringing. Frowning, he turned his head, looked over his shoulder. Now who in the hell was calling—

“Sir, what did you say—” She cut the words off abruptly, but her tone sent an icy shiver down David's spine and he slid his gaze to her. She was staring at him, her expression oddly stiff and her eyes flat.

Noises, chaos, rose in his head. Climbing to his feet, he turned and headed into the house.

“A minute, sir,” she said.

David heard her dimly over that noise, but it was disconnected.

“David, just a minute, okay? Something has—”

He reached out a hand, closed it over the handset of the old-fashioned phone, thought about how many times Judge Max—his grandfather, all the decency he'd ever seen in his family—must have picked up this phone. He thought about Miss Mary, that sweet old lady, and how many times he'd wished
she
had been his family.

A kindness?
Jensen thought he'd been here out of kindness.

No.
It was because it was one of the few
connections
he was capable of feeling. One of the few he'd allow himself.

Everything slid into slow motion as he lifted the phone to his ear. He didn't say anything. He just held it there and waited.

“Ca—Sorry. David, are you there?” Noah asked, his voice agitated.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Max,” Noah said softly.

David closed his eyes before the red rush of rage descended on him. “Tell me.”

“I don't know,” Noah said. “I just heard he was found dead. I …
damn
it, I'm sorry. I don't know what's going on, but I didn't want you to hear it, be unprepared.”

Slowly, while Noah was still talking, David lowered the phone down in the cradle and lifted his head, staring at the picture in front of him. That picture was the one he'd seen when he'd figured it out. Carefully, he took it down and because he could look at Max and Mary's face, because he could
see
that connection, he placed the portrait facedown on the table and then he turned and looked at Jensen.

Her face was pale, tight with strain.

“What happened?” he said gently.

“I don't know.”

Without looking away, he grabbed the phone, yanked it out of the wall and hurled it. It crashed into the mirror on the far wall, shattering glass. As mirrored shards rained down onto the floor, he asked again. “What happened?”

*   *   *

“Look, big guy, you can throw things around all you want, but it's not going to turn me into a mind reader.” Jensen's instincts screamed for her to draw her weapon. Everything inside her was telling her one crucial fact—the man in front of her was dangerous, and he was this close to slipping over an edge.

His eyes were half-wild. There was rage, yes. But there was more grief than she'd ever seen in a man before.

She was no stranger to grief. She'd experienced more than her share. Her lover had lost a child. She'd watched her father, her brother and sister, slowly come apart after Mom had disappeared.

She knew grief.

But she'd never seen anything like she saw in David's eyes. She thought maybe this was what a man looked like when you ripped away the one and only thing he'd ever cared about.

Then, just like that, it was gone.

He looked down. Wide shoulders rose and fell on a sigh, and when he looked up his face was smooth and blank. His blue eyes were clear, empty. It was like gazing out over the unbroken surface of a lake. She saw nothing.

It was just about one of the freakiest things she'd ever seen.

“I'm going to the hospital,” he said, his voice stark.

“I can't stop you.” She had a feeling it would be like trying to hold back a tank. “But you have to understand, you're not family. There's nothing they'll be able to tell you.”

He paused, reached over and picked up the picture he'd taken from the wall.

On his way out the door, he shoved the picture at her.

Jensen recognized the judge. Not because he looked the same, but because of those eyes. Piercing eyes. Penetrating eyes. He stood with his Mary, in front of this very house, his arm around her, a smile on his normally stern face.

But for the first time Jensen saw something else, and it was a punch in the gut.

That face … it wasn't identical, but whoa.

“Son of a bitch,” she breathed out, turning to look at David's broad back.

Pieces of a puzzle started to settle into places, bumping into an uncomfortable fit. She didn't like the overall picture, but it made an awful, beautiful sort of sense.

That realization frightened her, more than a little.

Just what did you say to a man who'd just lost the only real connection he had to a world he had every reason to hate?

 

CHAPTER NINE

Sometimes her gut told her things she just didn't want to hear.