EMBELLISHED TO DEATH (23 page)

But I could? I pressed my forehead to my knees.

“Griffin doesn't like ugly out in the open so he hired me to make sure Morgan didn't hurt you,” Violet said. “And to ensure you didn't hurt Steve.”

Me hurt Steve? He hurt me. Wounded me.

Everything I knew about Steve was a lie. Everything I knew about me and Steve was a lie.

No. He loves you. That's not a lie.

I covered my ears with my hands. A knot formed in the center of my chest.

Someone touched my shoulder. I jerked away.

“Faith, please,” Steve said.

“Go away.” I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping it shut up all the thoughts swirling in my head, some conjuring up a hope of there still being a beginning of a happily-ever-after for me and Steve, and others proclaiming the sad end of our relationship.

The man of my dreams and the man of my nightmares came from the same family. How could I have a future with Steve knowing Adam would always lurk in my life? He'd be family. Still. I shuddered.

“I can't. I won't.” Steve knelt down beside me.

My heart asked if it really was such a bad thing? Steve knew. Always had known and had believed me. My brain said yes. He kept the truth from me even as he vented about me doing it to him. He knew I was in danger and didn't tell me. Well, at least I could stop obsessing about the secret I hid from Steve. I choked out a laugh. Too think of all the time I wasted worrying about him finding out. And caring about it.

“I think we should talk.” He sat beside me on the cooling concrete.

‘You're drawing an audience,” Violet said. “You might want to leave her alone.”

“You can leave. Get away from Faith and this resort. You're not needed here,” Steve said.

“You're not the one who hired me for this weekend.” Violet stared down at us.

“Faith, please look at me.”

“I don't want to talk about this. Not now. Later.”

“Later won't help us. I'm sorry I didn't tell you I knew about Adam. I didn't know how to bring it up. I was waiting for you to.” Steve attempted to take my hands into his.

Violet walked away.

I folded my arms against my chest. “I considered myself a failure and a shame to my family. I didn't want anyone to think bad about my grandmothers. I left West Virginia determined to make it alone in the world. During basic training I realized I was a joke—the hillbilly. My first duty station in Germany wasn't much better. When some people find out you're from West Virginia, they automatically think you're an illiterate whose parents were related. Adam was the first person I met who respected me…or at least he acted that way. I let my need to be loved and belong overshadow everything. I didn't want anyone to know how far I fell.”

“When someone pushes you, I don't think you should call yourself clumsy if you trip.” Steve rubbed my back.

Again I pulled away, tucking my arms and legs as close to my body as I could.

“I'm so sorry, Faith. I didn't want to lose you. I wanted time for you to know I wasn't like Adam. I fell in love with you. Your loyalty. Your drive to see right done. The love you have for your grandmothers. Where do we go from here? Please tell me there's hope for us beyond this.”

Tears skimmed my cheeks and splattered onto my legs. I swiped them away. “I don't know. I feel off-balance right now. I don't know what to do or feel. I'm scared my life is going to be torn apart again.”

Steve wrapped his arms around me, drawing me against his chest. “I won't let them hurt you. I promise. And that one I will keep.”

I pushed him away and stood. “People I called friends didn't just turn away from me but gossiped about me even when I was proven innocent. I became the example of the holier-than-thou girl who got what she deserved. When my world fell apart, it filled them with so much happiness. It broke my heart even more than what Adam did to me. He was evil, but these were people who were well-respected and good.”

“I'm not them, Faith. Neither are your grandmothers or your friends. Eden will stick by you. I know what it's like to make decisions you regret.” Steve remained seated. “In my case, it was all my choice. I allowed anger to control me and placed myself in a situation I don't think I can ever correct. Now, I find myself in the same situation again, I want to correct this one. Us. When I realized you weren't going to confide in me, I was upset and angry that you still didn't fully trust me. But I was also amazed by you.”

I looked down at him. “Amazed?”

“You would do anything in your power not to hurt the people you love, even if it meant hurting yourself.”

“I didn't hurt myself.”

“You kept yourself closed off from everyone for so long.”

“It's the only way I knew how to survive at the time. I changed my mind because of you. And now, I don't know if you're really that person.” I craved distance from him.

Pain flashed across his face. “I am the same person and I understand what you're going through, because I've done it to myself. I'm not the untarnished hero everyone in town, especially your grandmothers, have labeled me. I'm also worried about what will happen when the truth comes out. But, we have to tell them. It won't hold any power over you. No one will be able to hurt you once you take this weapon away from them.”

The truth was a powerful thing; it could set a person free or trap them in a life they never wanted. Right now, I wasn't sure what the truth being finally released would do for me. Or Steve. Or our relationship. I didn't even know what I wanted.

I felt drained, and like I tore my soul out and tossed it outside of me. I didn't want to spill everything out, especially to a man who hadn't acted like he wanted to stand by me moments ago. But I was tired, and Steve wanted the truth. So, I'd given him what he wanted, and I hoped, unlike Adam, he didn't use it against me and to his advantage.

“When push comes to shove others doubt me because of it. That's why I didn't want to tell anyone. Because no matter the outcome, no matter the truth, it left a mark on my past. It's a ‘what really happened' question that no one but me, Adam, and the man who was killed will ever truly know the truth about. I didn't want my grandmothers going through wagging-tongues again. You've seen the good side of Eden. You haven't seen the dark side. As my grandparents grieved for their children, and raised their infant granddaughter, gossip spread. Did Charity and Randall die or did they abandon their baby, and pure-as-the-driven snow Hope and hoity-toity Cheryl want to keep it hushed? Even six years after my parents' were buried, the room moms in elementary school liked to point me out and whisper. Look at that poor orphan, good thing her parents died so she didn't have to live with being thrown aside.”

Steve looked horrified.

I scrubbed the tears from my face with the hem of my shirt and ran my fingers through my hair. I wanted to look presentable even though I felt ragged inside. “I left to prove I was someone and returned home knowing I was nothing. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to be more than what others claimed I did, in the end those false charges define me more than anything I've ever done in my life.”

“Faith—” Steve reached for my hand.

I did an about-face, avoided knocking into the bench, and marched myself back into the crop. A sharp pain squeezed my heart. I reached back into my arsenal of coping mechanisms and pulled out the well-worn and much loved decision of solitude.

I should've continued with my vow of singlehood. Being content was good. Reaching for happiness was overrated. If I hadn't, Steve and I would still be friends. We'd still flirt. Even sneak in a couple of a kisses. I'd have a content, stress-free life, even if it wasn't full.

I wouldn't hurt. Steve wouldn't hurt.

And I'd never have known that Adam Westcott and revenge had brought Steve into my life.

TWENTY

  

I stalked back into the crop room. Laughter, electronic cutters, and bits of various music styles filled the air. Everywhere around me was happiness. Two women sat with their heads bent toward each other, flipping through a scrapbook. From their oohs and aahs, I gathered they were re-living a cherished moment. Sharing.

I shuddered. I'd have some sharing…or confessing…to do soon. What would my grandmothers say? I sighed. I knew what Hope and Cheryl would say. They'd want to know why I didn't confide in them earlier, and then commiserate with each other for not pushing me to spill the truth sooner. There would be some lectures about pretending, not trusting them, and also why I, of all people, should've known investigating murders wasn't such a good idea. I knew it wouldn't be all rainbows, chocolate, and ponies but it also wouldn't be the sinking-of-the-Titanic ending to our relationship I envisioned.

It was easier to keep the truth hidden when I convinced myself the direst situation would happen. It was the real reason I joined the Army and “ran away” from home. I didn't want to transition into the life without my grandpas. If I left, I could pretend they were still alive and I'd see them soon. Living without them day-to-day would make that impossible.

I bailed on my grandmothers when they needed me most. That was what my guilt was really born from, not falling for Adam's con and being used. Not for ignoring signs. Not for being charged with murder. It was from giving control to selfishness and fear. I wanted a pretend life so I could hide from the pain of my grandfathers' deaths, and I got it with Adam and found a harsh reality hidden in the fantasy I created.

“You okay?” Darlene's voice drew me from myself.

“I will be eventually,” I said. “Let's just say what I've been running from has finally caught up to me.”

“That's not ever pretty.”

“Even worse when you realize there was no reason to be running.”

Darlene shook her head and patted my arm. “Sometimes useless running gets us in shape for a marathon we're going to end up competing in.”

I hoped not. “Thanks for the advice. If you don't mind, I'm going to take a break in the foyer.”

“Sounds like a good idea. Download a fun, light-hearted book onto your tablet. Nothing like a good laugh to pick up the spirits.”

“I'll do that.” I smiled my thanks and headed into the foyer.

I had left my tablet upstairs, so I needed to make a quick detour first. Reading in the foyer sounded like a perfect idea. I needed space but not complete aloneness. This way I could still be a part of the retreat without having my melancholy mood bring anyone else down.

Darlene was turning into a better friend than I'd ever had imagined. That was the main problem in my life; I spent more time wondering, thinking, and trying to sort issues and people out in my head than living in the here and now. Darlene and I had gotten off to a bumpy start when I first moved home to Eden. She liked bossing people around and being treated like the expert-of-all-scrapbooking. And I hated being told what to do by a know-it-all. It was the same quality that had started to emerge from Adam in the last two months of our marriage. After that, our marriage and my life went downhill quick and fast, and plunged right off a cliff.

Of course, our marriage had never been on a solid foundation. I had hints in the beginning but liked how Adam wanted to “protect” me as if I was fragile and could break at any minute. Feeling tender about those moments didn't last long. My opinion never mattered to him. Matter-of-fact, he never wanted it voiced. Shut up and obey was Adam's motto. And when I didn't—

I slammed the memory down. I didn't want to go there. It brought fear and mistrust back into my life and for once, I truly needed to live past it as I've told myself I've been doing for the last seven years.

Darlene wasn't trying to hurt me or control me. She just wanted a place in the community where she fit best…scrapbooking. Darlene was talented, but her abrasive personality and determination to prove how good she was pushed people away. Maybe the real reason Darlene and I rubbed each other the wrong way was because we were so much alike. I knew what drove my need to prove myself. She might have some deep, silent pain driving her.

I got into the elevator and went to the third floor. The hallway was empty. I heard running water coming from a few rooms, and the sound of a television set came from a room down the hall. In another hour or two, the exodus from the crop area back to bedrooms would begin. Not to call it a night, but for croppers to change into pajamas and also pick up their adult beverages stored in the room refrigerators.

Hopefully it didn't get as rowdy as last night. I opened the door, then wished I had decided to push through my issue and work instead of taking a break.

Clothes were strewn onto the chair and both beds. T-shirts, shorts, pants and nightwear belonging to Steve and me intermingled across the room. At least our articles of clothing were getting along. I snagged some of my undergarments and stuffed them in a dresser drawer. My face heated. How humiliating.

My make-up bag was unzipped and stretched across the bed closest to the door. All of the items were dumped to create a small molehill. The least Steve and Detective Bell could've done was put everything into a drawer, or back into the bag it came from. I sat on the bed and placed my items back into the proper compartments.

Forget it. I came up here to get my tablet. I wanted to relax not get myself more irritated. I opened the nightstand drawer and took out my tablet which was right beside the Bible where I left it. At least, Steve and Bell put the valuables away.

I locked up tight and headed back down to the first floor. Two giggling women stepped into the elevator as I tried maneuvering myself out. They leaned into each other, arms wrapped around shoulders as they swayed. It looks like some croppers got into the adult beverages a little early.

I settled into one of the mauve chairs, tucking my feet underneath me, and turned on the tablet. I tried reading a romantic comedy but my mind wouldn't let me into the story's world. I just couldn't let go of my own world, and the mess I found myself in.

I exited the book and went onto the web. Even though I was furious at Steve, I couldn't let Bell ruin Steve's life by labeling him a murderer. I knew just one step above nothing about Steve's family. Were Adam's parents the type to seek revenge against those who believe the worst about their son? And if so, had they added Steve onto the list or was he an unintended casualty? If Steve's dad was worried about his son, why didn't he offer his help when asked?

If Violet had checked the hotel registration, she'd have seen that Steve and I had separate rooms. Had something been placed in Bob's and Garrison's room?

This was getting worse and worse. I texted Bob. Wherever he was, he needed to get back here. My finger paused above Ted's name. No. If I talked to him, he'd know something was wrong, and I'd end up telling him—and fall apart. Right now, I had two jobs to do and wanted to be strong, not an emotional mess.

I started searching for female private investigators in Morgantown, West Virginia. Private investigators didn't add gender to their search terms. I clicked on a few links and held in a groan. Or pictures. What was I thinking? Of course they wouldn't add pictures to their site, they wanted to be incognito on assignments…which probably also meant using a false name.

“Can we talk?”

I glanced up, and was proud of the fact I didn't try to hide my search from Steve. “No.”

“We need to settle—”

I motioned from me to Steve then back to me. “This? Probably, but I don't think either of us is in the state of mind to do it. You got knocked in the head yesterday and didn't get a good night's sleep. I didn't get a good night's sleep and got knocked in the head today. It's best we wait.”

“What if waiting makes it worse?”

“Trust me. Waiting wouldn't be the problem today.”

Steve knelt by the chair. “Faith—”

I cut him off again. “I thought we got to an okay place last night. I don't like roller coasters. Never have. And our relationship has been a massive one with huge downs the last twelve hours. I'd rather stay off the ride right now. I don't even know what issues have been resolved, or which ones we need to work on.”

“I can name one.” Steve's voice lowered to a rumble.

“And I can add a few names to that list. The search put you in a foul mood.” I placed the tablet face down on my lap. “So, let's wait until emotions settle down. I need time.”

I was proud of the adult and rational way I was handling the situation. Okay, not entirely grown-up as I chose avoidance, but a public place wasn't where I wanted to get into the nitty-gritty of our relationship problems.

“The search wasn't pleasant, especially when something came up missing.” He searched my gaze for an answer I couldn't give him.

Even though I was hurt and fighting feelings of betrayal, I still couldn't quiet the voice needing the truth. Needing justice. And needing to help the people I loved even when they hurt my heart. A group of croppers entered the foyer. I texted him one word.
Gun?

A buzz came from Steve's pocket. He pulled out his phone and shortly after rolled his eyes. “No. It was something else.”

“Maybe if you and Detective Bell had cleaned up after the search, you'd have found whatever was misplaced.”

Steve stood. “I'm going to the room.”

“Okay.” I turned my attention back to the tablet and what I found, or in actuality what I didn't find—a clue to Violet's real identity.

I decided to switch “targets” and went to find Marsha Smith, or who was the real Marsha Smith who worked with Cropportunity. There were no pictures of Marsha on the Cropportunity website or Facebook page. Approximately 30,480 and something Marsha Smith's resided in West Virginia. I didn't have enough time to look at all their profiles.

No wonder Detective Bell was showing the picture to everyone he could. Who was the real Marsha Smith who co-owned Cropportunity? Why would the mother lie?

Then again, why would Lydia Clement lie about Marsha? How could she not know who her partner was? Okay, I didn't but I was a one-time vendor. My reputation and livelihood weren't tied to Marsha. Lydia's was. You'd think she'd have done a little more research.

“You paged.” Bob placed his hands on the back of the arm chair and leaned forward.

“This case has two questions it's hinging on. Who's Marsha Smith, and who's Violet Hancock.”

“I can answer one of them.” Bob walked around and sat on the arm of the chair. “Violet Hancock is an alias being used by a private eye who works for a firm in Charleston.”

Closing my eyes, I leaned my head against the back of the chair. “I was hoping for something more...”

“Nefarious,” Bob finished the sentence for me.

“Yeah. She knows something about me and I was hoping it could be negated because she's a ne'er-do-well.”

Bob fought back a smile. “Is what she knows the truth? If not, it'll be recognized as idle gossip soon enough.”

“Unfortunately, it is true.”

Bob draped an arm around me and gave me a quick hug. “Then it can't be discounted. The most damaging thing about secrets isn't the actual what, but the lengths a person goes through to hide it. It makes people wonder why and suspect there's more to the truth than what they know.”

“Because you're afraid of being judged, and you know the information deserves someone being judgmental about you.”

“But as you've learned from dabbling in investigations, that's what this job is about. It's what those of us with untrusting natures, or jobs requiring a little cynicism do. You take the obvious explanation and dig down another layer or two. Sometimes, the top layer is all there is. Other times, there's more to it.”

“And the more a person acts like there is nothing there, the more you know something is buried.”

Bob nodded. “Especially if a person keeps finding a reason to stand in the same spot and shove everyone else away.”

I scooted as close as I could to Bob and lowered my voice. “The obvious in this case is Marsha Smith is not Marsha Smith. She's the identity thief. Detective Bell is showing a picture of a woman identified as Marsha Smith. He says her mother made the ID. Then there's the membership card I found with the creative spelling. Marcia Smyth. There was also a piece of paper with names and numbers written on it. Looked like credit card numbers. The card reader Marsha was using didn't work so I figured she wrote them down and planned on using her laptop to make the credit card payments.”

“Then I say we need to go have a little talk with Marsha. Detective Bell asked I stay out of it as my arrest more than likely put me on Marsha's radar, but Marsha is good at pinpointing the time to run. She makes stupid mistakes and just as the police get to the door, she's gone. Bell's bringing Ted onboard as Marsha doesn't know him, but I'm afraid by the time he's caught up on everything—”

“She'll be gone.”

Bob nodded. “She knows you're on to her and that means the law will soon be on her tail.”

“We have to stop her.”

“Yes.” Bob scanned the room. “If helping people obtain justice is a burning desire in you, and you're going to keep doing it, I'll train you.”

“Are you serious?” Fear and excitement tunneled through me. “Ted will not be happy.” Along with my grandmothers and Steve. Not that I really cared about what Steve thought about my decision. It was my life to live as I saw fit.

“It's not about making Ted happy, it's ensuring you have your full life back and aren't taking second-best because you don't think you can ever have the life you really wanted. Let's go make sure Marsha finally faces justice.”