Linda Castle (20 page)

“Marydyth, honey, don’t put yourself through this.” Flynn felt helpless watching her suffer and knowing there was nothing he could do to help.

“I have to—I can’t live with the ghosts any longer.”

“Marydyth.” He said just her name but she inhaled deeply and smiled.

“I was young, inexperienced. I knew nothing of men and women. I was frightened of what was going to happen. Andre didn’t care. I tried to explain but he became furious. He hit me and he forced me to—to—do things.”

Flynn tasted bile in his throat. He clenched his hands tighter, wishing he could have been there—wishing there were some way he could turn back the clock and reckon with the bastards who had mistreated her.

“I—I—was crying and then he—he—he hurt me.”

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were wide and haunted. With a tenderness he didn’t know he possessed he pushed back a cluster of yellow curls and stroked her face.

“It’s over now, honey. You told me. Now you don’t have to think of it again.”

“No. No.” She shook her head from side to side. “That is not the worst part.” She shoved him back, dislodging his hand. “You don’t understand. He was going to—to…do it again. He was coming at me and I was so
sc-sc-scared. I picked up the lamp and I hit him. I hit him, and then I ran.” She was near hysterics.

Flynn grasped her shoulders, trying to calm her. “Honey, it’s all right.”

“I ran and I ran. Blaine told me that I should. I worked hard, got on my feet. But then each time I would try to forget and start a new life, Blaine would come, wanting money.” She was trembling. “I would have to run again.”

“Why didn’t you just stop, honey? Why didn’t you tell Blaine to go to hell?”

“I believed it was God’s punishment. He was judging me since man couldn’t. I deserved to be punished. Don’t you see? I deserved to be punished for what I did.” Her eyes were wet with tears. She was sobbing and clutching at Flynn.

“No, honey, you didn’t deserve to be punished.”

“I did. And when—when J.C. was murdered, I thought—I thought that was God’s way of seeing that I was punished.”

Flynn frowned at her. “Do you mean you didn’t defend yourself during the trial because you thought God was punishing you?”

“Yes! He was. Don’t you see? I had gotten away with murder before but he made sure that I paid for my sins.”

Flynn frowned at her, trying to make sense of what she was saying. A hard knot formed in the pit of his stomach as he started to understand. “Marydyth, honey? Do you believe that you killed Andre Levesque?”

“Yes, yes, yes. I killed him. I murdered Andre. Dear God, I murdered him.” Her voice was high and tight with horror. “And when I was sent to Yuma…the nightmares began.”

Flynn’s mind was racing. Blaine was real. Blaine had
written the letter. Blaine confessed to killing Andre and robbing him. But Marydyth didn’t know that? Marydyth really thought she had killed her first husband? How could she have not known that Blaine did the killing? Unless. With a jolt, Flynn realized Marydyth knew nothing about the letter.

“Marydyth, listen to me. You did not kill Andre.”

“I did—that was why my face was on the Wanted posters. I killed him and I ran, but Blaine followed me wherever I went—even after J.C. married me.”

“No, Marydyth. Blaine killed Andre,” he said gently.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She was shaking her head; her golden curls were flying. “I

did it.” Her voice was high and tight with misery. “I did it, God forgive me, please, I did it.”

“Marydyth, listen to me. Blaine did it—he confessed.”

Her eyes grew wide and round. She stared at Flynn and he wasn’t sure if she had drunk so much brandy that her thinking was fuzzy or if she simply could not believe it. “What?”

“Marydyth, it’s time you learned the truth about what happened,” Flynn said as he picked her up and folded her into his arms. “There are things you don’t know about your past—things it seems that only I can tell you.”

H
e folded himself into the chair with her in his arms. “Haven’t you wondered how you got released from Yuma?”

“I didn’t care. I was free to be with Rachel.”

He smiled at that and pushed one strand of hair back from her forehead. “Marydyth, I received a letter.”

Flynn looked at the crumpled paper lying on the side table. With one hand he reached out and snatched it up. He smoothed it out as best he could and handed it to Marydyth.

She was still trembling, shaking like a leaf in his arms. “This is Blaine’s handwriting.”

“Uh-huh. I think it was written some time ago by the look of it, but I only got it this spring,” Flynn explained.

She searched his face and then she lowered her eyes and read. All the color drained from her face. “Oh, my God. Could it be true?” she whispered. “All those years of running.”

“You didn’t do it, sweetheart.” All Flynn wanted to do now was free Marydyth from the ghosts that haunted her. “There is no reason for you to keep hating yourself. You didn’t do it.”

“But—but Blaine told me I killed Andre. He found me when I was headed back to my cabin. He told me Andre was dead. He helped me get off the riverboat.” She clung to the page.

“I’d guess that Blaine found Andre after you left. They probably got into a fight—maybe over the way Andre had treated you.”

“More likely it would’ve been over money,” she whispered. “It was always money.” She shivered, as if the truth were still too hard to comprehend.

“If I ever get my hands on Blaine.” Flynn swore.

“My whole life—my entire life—has been based on lies. I have been running from my guilt, thinking I didn’t deserve happiness. How could my own flesh and blood let me suffer like that?”

“I don’t know, honey. If only he had come forward during the trial here.”

“But then he would have had to face a jury for J.C.’s murder. I guess he didn’t have that kind of courage.”

Flynn remembered how Marydyth had sat in stony silence throughout the proceedings, saying only that she was innocent of killing J.C. and nothing more. He had wondered at the time. Now he understood. She had a deep sense of morality and justice. A part of her felt as if she had gotten away with murder after Andre’s death. A part of her wanted to be punished for that crime.

“Flynn?”

He rubbed his chin on the top of her head. “Yes, honey?”

“There’s something wrong with this confession.” Marydyth frowned and read the paper again.

“What?” Flynn squinted and followed the line of her vision.

“Blaine admits to killing Andre—but J.C.…”
“Yes?”

“He doesn’t actually say he stabbed J.C.”

“It doesn’t matter now, sweetheart.” Flynn had been haunted by that question for months, but now it just didn’t matter. He was sure she was innocent.

“I don’t want you to have any more doubts.”

“I believe you, Marydyth. I believe
in
you.”

“But Blaine should have admitted it. It doesn’t make any sense, Flynn. If he was driven to write this because of his conscience, then why didn’t he confess to J.C.’s murder?”

“I don’t know, honey.” Flynn reluctantly allowed himself to wonder also. It didn’t make any sense. A man driven to confess one bad deed would not omit the other.

Unless he didn’t do the killing.

A chill ran up Flynn’s spine. His old instincts prickled.

If Blaine hadn’t done the killing, then a murderer had gotten away. A murderer who might still be in Hollenbeck Corners.

“We’ve got to do something.” Marydyth drew herself up. Her eyes were wide. “We have to investigate and find proof.”

“No!” The sharpness of Flynn’s voice shocked them both. “We aren’t going to do a damned thing, Marydyth.”

“But the truth. J.C.’s killer…”

“Leave it alone, Marydyth, just leave it the hell alone. I don’t want you doing anything that will put you in danger.”

Flynn was sprawled in a big leather chair in the library, sipping a whiskey. Worry and fear had been two emotions he had little experience with.

Until now. Now he was paralyzed with fear for Marydyth.

The notion of Marydyth stirring up the past terrified him. If she brought attention to the confession, the one that Flynn had used to get the governor to release her, it might get the wrong kind of attention.

There was a chance she might end up back in Yuma.

“Rachel couldn’t survive that.and neither could I,” he admitted to the darkness surrounding him.

He didn’t want to worry Marydyth with his suspicions, but now Flynn saw some things clearly that he had never noticed before. He intended to find the killer, but he was going to do it his way. And unfortunately that meant keeping Marydyth out of it for her own safety.

Marydyth was innocent. Of that he had no doubt. And, like her, he didn’t believe that Blaine would confess to one murder and deny another. The only thing that made any sense was that somebody else had killed J.C. That led Flynn down a frightening path because the murderer might be among them.

Flynn frowned and rubbed his forehead. Somebody had taken a shot at him. And somebody had started that rock slide.

Why? What did anybody have to gain by killing him?

Not a damn thing. He didn’t have anything that anybody would want.

Except control of the Hollenbeck fortune. A shiver ran through Flynn as he pondered that possibility. Because if Flynn died, the fortune remained in trust in Rachel’s name.

Unless she died, too.

If the killer was trying to get to the Hollenbeck fortune, then Flynn and Rachel were standing right in the way.

Marydyth tossed and turned, trying to understand Flynn O’Bannion. He said he trusted her. He said he believed her. But he didn’t act like it. She shoved her fist into her pillow. If he did, then he would help her find J.C.’s killer.

Flynn O’Bannion was an ex-lawman and a man who had a thirst for the truth.

So why didn’t he want to find out the truth about J.C.?

She knew the answer. Because he still had some doubts about her. Marydyth sighed. It hurt her to admit it, but it was the only possible explanation.

Yet she needed to know, to find out, for J.C. and for Rachel.

She flopped over on her back and stared up into the darkness. Her bedroom window was open. She never slept with the window shut now. After so many nights in Yuma where she couldn’t see the stars, couldn’t smell the air, having a welcome breeze wafting over her body was close to heaven.

Marydyth lay there, with only her thin cotton gown covering her body, and tried to figure out some way of getting to the truth.

She couldn’t go to Moses Pritikin. He had made it abundantly clear that he was Victoria’s man.

Wainwright Sloan might help her, she thought, picturing her lawyer’s pale face. But for this she needed a man who had the ability to ferret out things, not a greener who sneezed at a room full of dust. She needed somebody who could talk to everyone in Hollenbeck.
Ted Kelts.

Ted had. always stood beside her. Since her return he was one of the few people who even spoke to her. Yes, she decided. As soon as the sun came up, she would pay Ted a visit.

The next morning Marydyth rose early and after breakfast she dressed Rachel in her best frock of blue and green plaid. The copper curls shone like a newly minted penny as Marydyth fastened a blue bonnet over them.

“Where are you two headed?” Flynn asked over his first cup of coffee.

“I’m taking Rachel to visit with Victoria for the day.”

A slow smile bloomed across Flynn’s lean craggy face. “That’s mighty big of you, Marydyth.” He wished he were better with words so he could tell her how much he thought of her—how much he admired the way she had acted since she returned. A lot of men wouldn’t have carried off their return half so well as this little slip of a female. “It takes a big person to forgive and forget.” He wanted to tell her that he was proud of her but the words stuck in his throat. There were a dozen things he wanted to tell her but all he said was, “Have fun, you two.”

Marydyth left Rachel playing with Gertie while Victoria sat in silence watching her granddaughter. A tendril of guilt wound around her heart when she remembered how easily Flynn had accepted the lie.

But it couldn’t be helped.

The familiar chill of guilt nipped at the corners of her mind as she walked down the streets toward Ted Kelts’s home at the edge of town.

Ted’s house was not as large as Hollenbeck House, but it had traces of opulence in unexpected places. A black wrought-iron fence separated it from the street, and a matching railing ran around the entire second floor. A huge brass knocker waited to be thumped in the middle of a massive set of double doors. And wooden scrolls and curlicues decorated every square angle and window from top floor to well-tended flower gardens.

Marydyth gripped the brass and heard the hollow echo
as the knocker announced her presence. Almost instantly the door was opened by Ted himself.

“Why, Marydyth.” He leaned out to see if she was alone. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to visit,” she said, while twisting the strings of her reticule in her hand. “Is this a bad time?”

“No, not at all.” Ted was coatless, wearing a starched pale blue shirt and string tie. “Come in. I was just having a cup of coffee.”

The house was the usual Arizona Territory combination of adobe and brick. It was cool and quiet. Tall, narrow windows lined the front of the house, but Ted led her to the back and out into a Spanish-style courtyard. One cup sat on a table beside a spreading rosebush.

“Can I get you a-cup?”

“That would be nice.” She sat down and loosened the ribbon holding her bonnet. Now that she was here she didn’t know where to begin.

Ted returned with another cup and saucer. He poured coffee from a fancy silver service and sat down.

“Is this a social call or have you come to accept my offer on the Lavender Lady?” He sounded cheerful, almost expectant

Marydyth sipped the strong hot coffee and tried to organize her thoughts. “I need your help.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I want you to help me find J.C.’s murderer.”

Ted Kelts dropped his china cup on the stones of the patio. Hot coffee splashed on her skirt

“I’m sorry, Marydyth,” Ted said, as he dabbed at the stain with his clean handkerchief. “I thought you asked me to help you find J.C.’s murderer.”

“I did, Ted,” Marydyth said evenly.

“But, Marydyth…”

“I didn’t kill him, Ted, if that’s what you are thinking.”

“Never. I never thought it for a minute.” He diligently wiped at the stain and shook his head in denial.

“Well, I didn’t do it, and I thank you for believing in me. If you will help me, I’d like to find out who did.”

“But your Uncle Blaine.?”

“Didn’t do it either. I know that now.” Marydyth set her cup on the table and leaned forward. “Please, Ted, you were once J.C.’s partner. You would know if he had enemies—somebody he might’ve hurt in a business deal perhaps.”

“Yes, of course. I would know things that somebody else wouldn’t.” Ted rubbed his chin with the pad of his thumb. “What about Flynn O’Bannion?”

“I don’t want him to know anything about this.” She sat up straighter.

Ted’s smile beamed at that news. “I knew you would see the light soon enough. I have no great affection for O’Bannion, never understood why Victoria gave him control.” He frowned and grew quiet. “Sure, I’ll help you, Marydyth, and maybe when Flynn is out of the picture, you and I can come to an.understanding.”

Marydyth looked up and frowned. “I can’t think of anything right now except finding out who killed J.C.”

“I understand.” He scooted back into his chair and patted her hand. “I can be patient. When I want something I can be very patient.”

“Thanks, Ted. I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened three years ago. The strike that shut down the Lavender Lady caused a lot of hard feelings on both sides.”

Ted studied her face. “I suppose you are right.”

Marydyth sighed heavily. “Do you think I am grasping at straws?”

Ted smiled. “Not at all. Let me ask a few questions, see what I can find out. How soon do you think the Lady will be ready to open?”

“I’m not sure. Flynn takes care of all of that. Soon I

guess,” she said absently.

“Things are going that well?”

“He said he should be able to take a load of new timbers to the mine at the end of the week,” she said with a sigh. The last thing Marydyth was worried about was the Lavender Lady.

“It will be nice to have the old girl producing again—if there is any copper ore down there.”

“I suppose, but Flynn is opening it for other reasons besides copper ore,” Marydyth said without thinking.

Ted stiffened. “Is that right?”

“Yes. Well I want you to know that I appreciate your help, Ted.”

“No problem at all, Marydyth. I enjoy your company, I always have. I want you to know you can rely on me.”

Marydyth was humming when she and Rachel opened the front door and stepped inside the cool, dim mansion.

It had felt good to sit and talk with Ted. She felt a sense of relief knowing that he was going to be searching for answers on her behalf.

“Unca Flynn!” Rachel said as he stepped out of the library. She launched herself at him so quickly that Marydyth didn’t have time to deflect her momentum. Rachel hit him full force, driving the air from his body in a painful grunt.

“How’s my girl?” Flynn asked as he knelt beside her. His healing ribs would not allow him to pick her up yet.

“I had fun today, Unca Flynn,” she said as she put her hands on either side of his face.

“Really? What did you do?”

“Gertie and I made a cake and some biscuits. I pounded them all by myself.” She leaned close. “And my kitten is growing real fast”

Flynn slanted a look up at Marydyth. “And what was Mama doing all this time? Did she help make biscuits or did she visit with Grandma?”

“Oh, no. Mama wasn’t there,” Rachel said quickly.

Flynn and Marydyth locked gazes. His brows furrowed together. “No?”

“Uh-huh. Mama left.”