Lady of Light (38 page)

Claire nodded her agreement. “He’s so full of hate, I can’t see how he can stand himself. One would think he finds all his pleasure in other folk’s misfortunes, but I can’t say that I could imagine him truly happy about aught.”

“He isn’t,” Hannah said. “I think his heart’s so wounded he may never find happiness. I keep Brody in my prayers, though. Even if no one has ever been able to touch his heart, I still hold out the hope that God finally will.”

Claire stared at her in amazement. She had heard of Hannah’s past life from Evan, and the cruel role Brody Gerard had played in it even before Hannah had finally run away to the sanctuary of Culdee Creek. Vicious beatings when she failed to earn enough money some nights, forcing himself on her, and then that first time she had run away and been caught and brought back to the bordello … His brutal treatment, when he had later kidnapped Hannah, paled in comparison!

It shamed Claire that she still held such a grudge against Mary Sue Edgerton, who had only harmed her with gossip, while Hannah had not only forgiven a man who had both mentally and physically brutalized her, but now even prayed for his redemption. She still had a very long journey ahead of her, Claire realized, if she were ever to follow the Lord like Hannah already did.

Right now, though, there wasn’t time to dwell on the Lord or His ways. All she could deal with was the moment. Nothing else mattered but the growing fear that she would soon lose her brother and, in the process, irreparably imperil her marriage.

“Well, I can’t say,” Claire muttered, “that I feel any great sense of pity for the man’s plight. If it hadn’t been for him, Evan wouldn’t have found out about Ian and Beth, and I might still have been able—”

The front door slammed open. “Claire, come here,” her husband called. “Now!”

Claire and Hannah exchanged a startled look, then rose and hurried into the parlor. Evan, Devlin, and Sheriff Jake Whitmore stood there, troubled expressions on their faces.

“What is it, Evan?” Claire halted before them. “What do you want?”

Evan met her gaze with an unflinching one of his own. “Brody Gerard was killed last night,” he informed her, “shot dead while he slept—shot through his jail cell window.”

Hannah moved up to grasp Claire’s arm. “Dear Lord,” she whispered. “Dear Lord.”

“That’s not the worst of it, Hannah,” Evan said. “After the way Ian threatened Gerard last night in front of half the town, he’s one of the prime suspects.”

The bottom fell from Claire’s stomach. The room whirled crazily. She swayed. If not for Hannah’s hand on her arm, she knew she would’ve lost her balance and fallen.

“Come on, Claire.” Her friend’s voice sounded as if it came from some place far away. “Let’s sit you down. Evan, help me, will you?”

The next thing Claire knew, she was seated on the sofa, her head tucked between her knees. Someone was fanning her, and a glass of cool water was soon pressed to her lips.

“Take a sip,” Hannah urged. “Breathe deeply and the dizziness will pass.”

Claire did as ordered. Eventually, she began to feel better. Still, when she looked up at the three men standing before her, the same, sick sensation immediately returned. With it this time, though, came the horrible memories.

Ian … Ian accused of murder. It was a nightmare.

“Evan’s a suspect, too,” the sheriff said, squatting beside her. “He says you can vouch for his presence here all night, though.”

Her glance met Evan’s. His expression was flat, unreadable. He wasn’t about, Claire realized, to help her in this.

“Someone left the house last night,” she said slowly, her own words sounding strangely muffled. “I can’t say who it was, but it was a male. I don’t know what time it was, just that it was verra late.”

“But surely you would’ve known if it was Evan or not. He’s your husband, after all.”

She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. “We weren’t sleeping together, if that’s what you’re getting at. I slept downstairs last night in the parlor.”

Jake colored in embarrassment. “Oh, I see.” He turned to Evan, who stood there, his expression still impassive. “Well, Evan? Did you go somewhere last night?”

“I already told you I never left Culdee Creek after we got home. If Claire heard someone leave the house, it must have been Ian.”

The sheriff turned back to Claire. “Well, maybe we need to have a talk with Ian then. Find out why he left the house last night.”

Somehow, she had known that would be where the sheriff headed next. The dizziness struck her anew but, this time, Claire fiercely shook it away. This time, she needed a clear head and steady nerves. She needed to be able to think things through and decide what she would next say.

Whoever had left the house last night, there was no reason to assume he had ridden back to Grand View. She cursed herself now for not going after him. At least she would’ve known who it was and what he was planning to do. But now … now she didn’t know and couldn’t protect either one of them.

The recollection of Evan’s words last night came back to haunt her. Words about dealing with a vulture by shooting him clean out of the sky. Words about not giving Gerard anymore chances.

Still, it made no sense that Evan would murder Brody Gerard. Evan wasn’t that kind of a man. She
had
to believe that. She just had to.

But Ian … What if her volatile brother
had
killed Brody Gerard in a misguided fit of temper, after hearing that Evan planned on sending him away? It made no sense to take it out on Gerard, no matter how low-down mean the man was, but her brother’s emotions had been running pretty high last night. He might have been so angry and confused that he wasn’t—

With an angry, mental slash, Claire cut off her thoughts in midsentence. No matter how upset he might have been, Ian was no cold-blooded killer either. And all this second-guessing about Evan and Ian wasn’t getting her anywhere at any rate. What she
did
need to do, though, was say something, and soon, or incriminate Ian just by her silence.

But to all but point an accusing finger at her own brother … Claire’s stomach clenched, then twisted painfully. For a fleeting moment, she thought she might be sick. Then Evan’s words last night filled her head.

Maybe that’s been the problem all along, Claire,
he had said.
You keep making excuses for Ian, trying to solve his problems for him, and he’s never had to take responsibility for his own actions.

Aye, she thought, mayhap she
had
tried too hard all these years to solve his problems, and never given him the chance to do so. But now was certainly not the time to begin. She couldn’t—
wouldn’t
—betray her brother in such a dastardly manner.

“Aye, Sheriff, mayhap you
should
talk with Ian.” Claire forced herself to meet her husband’s steely gaze. “But then, exactly what
will
you do, if he, too, claims he wasn’t the one who left the house last night?”

21

Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee.

Psalm 55:22

Ian flatly denied ever leaving the house after going to bed. To his credit, Jake Whitmore handled the situation well, neither accusing nor discounting either Evan or Ian. He finally looked to Claire, shook his head, and sighed.

“Well, reckon I’d best be heading on back. Considering there wasn’t much love lost between Brody Gerard and the town of Grand View, I’ve got a passel of other suspects to question.” The sheriff shoved his hat on his head, then paused. “I reckon I don’t have to advise either of you”—he looked from Evan to Ian—“not to leave the area until the case is closed or someone’s formally charged, do I?”

“I think you’ve made things clear enough,” Evan growled, unable to keep from directing a seething glance at Ian. “Neither of us will be going anywhere. You have my word on it.”

“Well, that’s good enough for me.”

Evan saw Jake Whitmore to the door and stood there, shoulders stiff, stance rigid, until he had ridden off. Then, he turned slowly to face Ian. “Where do you get off, boy, lying to the sheriff like that?” he demanded, his voice gone low and harsh. “You and I both know it wasn’t me who left the house last night. And, since Claire would rather die than falsely implicate either one of us, I trust her story that she heard
someone
leave.”

“Evan,” Claire began, stepping forward, “before you start on Ian, permit me a few minutes to talk with him alone. No good will be served—”

“No. It’s past time we deal with Ian together, or not at all.” Evan clamped down hard on his fury, knowing that if there was to be any hope of getting through to the boy, he needed Claire on his side. “Can’t you see what he’s been doing, trying to play us against each other? Well, it’s got to stop, Claire, or he’ll tear us apart!”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Ian burst out, his face livid. “To win Claire to your side against me? It’s what you’ve been trying to do since the first day you met her, wooing her with your fine words and smooth ways. Never once have you thought of me or my needs.”

“That’s not true, and you know it!” Evan snapped, rounding back on him. “I’ve tried to be your friend, to encourage you to come to me when you had a problem or needed something. But, for some reason I can’t figure, you persist in seeing me as your enemy.” He expelled a long, defeated breath. “Well, I’m tired of it, Ian. And I’m tired of your lying and sneaking around behind my back, too.”

“I-I didn’t lie. I never rode to Grand View or killed Brody Gerard. I swear it!”

Evan shook his head and held up a warning hand. “Save it for someone who doesn’t know you, boy. If you weren’t Claire’s brother, I wouldn’t care what you did, or how much trouble you got into. But you’re treading on thin ice when you start dragging the MacKay name through the dirt. Today, you’ve finally gone too far. Not only have you managed to get yourself implicated in a murder, but you’ve pulled me into it as well.”

“You’re only there because you’ve got reason to be!” Ian taunted. “After all, I don’t even know how to use a gun, but I know you do. So who’s a more likely suspect because of that, do you think?”

He wasn’t getting anywhere with the boy. Evan could see that plainly enough. Indeed, Ian looked almost as if he relished the battle. But, as she had stood there watching them, Claire’s face had gone increasingly paler, until she looked as white as a sheet. For her sake, if for nothing else, it was time to put an end to this pointless argument.

“Just go on up to your room, Ian,” Evan muttered in disgust. “This is obviously not the time to continue this discussion.”

“And what if I don’t want to go to my room?” the boy demanded. “What will you do then?”

Had it come to that, then, Evan thought, his fury rising, that now he must be goaded into using physical force? Well, if that cocky kid thought to defy him in his own house—

In a swift move, Claire stepped between him and her brother. “Go to your room, Ian Sutherland,” she hissed, rearing up full into her brother’s face. “Now!”

The boy stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged. “Fine,” he spat. “I’ll do that. But only”—he shot Evan a defiant glare—“because you’re asking, Claire.” With that Ian turned on his heel, stomped from the parlor, and pounded up the stairs.

It took a time for Evan’s anger to cool. Finally, however, he found words that were calmer and more considered. “I’m sorry about that, Claire,” he said. “I know how it hurts you when Ian and I fight. But I just can’t figure out what to do about that boy anymore.”

“I know, Evan,” was her choked reply. And then, without another word, Claire walked from the room.

That day, Claire moved Ian’s and her belongings into the bunkhouse. Though it tore at her heart to put such a physical as well as emotional distance between her and her husband, she didn’t know what else to do. Both Evan and Ian desperately required some time apart. Of the two, she knew Ian needed the comfort of her presence more than Evan did. Or, leastwise, Evan could handle it better.