Secrets Rising (19 page)

When Jake entered his room, he noticed the red message light on his phone blinking. He hesitated, torn between wanting to get out of his wet clothes and take a shower or find out who might have called, what he and Rebecca might have flushed out with their investigations.

The line was silent for a moment, then the voice of an elderly man came on. "Wilbur Caswell. We got a problem here, Mr. Thornton. We got people coming in tomorrow that have your room and Ms. Patterson's reserved."

A long silence followed as if Wilbur hadn't been prepared for that question. "No," he finally said, "I'm all booked up for the next month."

Jake hung up the phone and stared at it. He'd flushed out something all right. Flushed Rebecca and him right out of their rooms. At least she wouldn't have to be concerned with this ratty place anymore. They might be sleeping in the streets, but they wouldn't be coming back here.

A rapid knocking sounded at the door.

What now?

He opened the door to see Rebecca huddled there, her eyes wide with fear and sadness though she was making an obvious effort not to let him see it.

She pushed her damp hair off her face and he saw that her hand was trembling.

Only by clenching his fists was he able to stop himself from reaching for her, from pulling her into his arms and trying to right whatever was wrong.

"Did you talk to the front desk, too?" he asked.

"Front desk?" She shook her head. "No." She swallowed hard. "I was going to take a shower but there's a snake in my tub."

She stood outside the bathroom, hugging herself and watching him with that defenseless expression. "Jake, what's going on?"

"Be damned if I know, but you haven't heard the latest. I just talked to the office, and we've lost our rooms."

"What?"

"They claim they're all booked up for a month starting tomorrow. Somebody wants us out of town real bad." He looked back to the snake, black and menacing against the white porcelain, but essentially harmless. "We're getting into overkill here. With the manager kicking us out, we don't have any choice except to leave. So why the snake? What purpose does it serve if we're already on our way out the door?"

"To frighten me. To make us stop looking for my mother. To make us leave town for good, not just find another motel and commute."

"Maybe. But it almost seems like we're battling more than one person.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure. It just seems to me that we're dealing with two different approaches here. One is powerful and intimidating, sending the mayor to talk to us, the Chief of Police to break my headlight, influencing the motel owner to kick us out. The other is quieter, makes a late night phone call, writes a note, steals a dress and leaves a harmless snake. They're both trying to run us out of town, but the methods are worlds apart."

Rebecca gave a short, brave bark of a laugh and rubbed her arms. "So what are you saying? You think my mother and my father are working separately to get rid of me? How can they hate me so much when they don't even know me?"

He could feel the sadness emanating from her, and he wanted to reassure her. But he'd be lying. He'd tried to warn her from the beginning that things could turn out this way. Eventually she'd have to face reality. She could postpone it but not avoid it. Her mother, her father, the family of one of her parents...those were the only logical people who could be doing these things.

She was tough. He had to give her that. A spine of tempered steel that kept her going in spite of the broken spirit that showed in her eyes.

Chapter 15

November 5, 1979, Cottonwood Bend, Texas

Mary dried the last skillet from breakfast and put it in the cupboard.

"It's a perfect morning," Paula said, looking out the window as the dish water gurgled down the drain. "What do you say we grab a second cup of coffee and go sit on the porch a while?"

"Sounds good to me." Mary shook out the dish towel and hung it on the rack to dry then reached down to Paula's eight-month old baby playing contentedly on the vinyl floor. "If you get the coffee, I'll get the little trouble maker here." The infant cooed and clapped her tiny hands as Mary lifted her. "Oh, you love your Aunt Mary, don't you, sweet thing?"

"That she does." Paula poured two cups of coffee, added cream and sugar, and led the way through her house to the front porch.

The green metal of the lawn chair was a little cold as Mary sat down, but it felt good after the stuffy warmth of the kitchen. She settled in beside her friend and arranged the baby, Cindy, in her lap.

It was, indeed, a perfect morning. A cloudless blue sky rode high overhead with a bright yellow sun that gave off warmth but lacked the scorching heat of summer. Several trees were vibrant with the red and gold leaves of fall while others, like the live oaks and magnolias, would wear their shiny green all winter.

A dirt road led away from the house and down to the main road five miles away. The place was secluded. Safe. So why couldn't she stop worrying?

"This is my favorite time of the year," Paula said, handing Mary a coffee. "The garden's in, the canning's done, all those jars lined up in the cellar to keep us fed this winter, but it's still warm enough to get outside."

"It's beautiful," Mary agreed.

"In a few years, Nick and I will have a small herd of cattle out here that will, we hope, grow into a big herd. That's what he's always wanted to do. Have a big herd of cattle and a small herd of kids."

Mary gave the obligatory laugh though her heart ached at her friend's words. Just so confidently had she and Ben once planned their future. Now Ben had no future, and hers looked bleak except for one bright spot, the child growing quietly beneath her heart, giving her the courage to go on.

"Thank goodness Nick didn't want it the other way around," Mary said. "I think you've already got your hands full with this one." Cindy squirmed to get down, and Mary reluctantly let her slide to the porch where she held onto one finger with both hands and balanced on chubby legs. "You're soon going to be walking and then your mommy won't be able to stop you from getting into absolutely everything!"

Cindy gurgled happily in response, showing two teeth on top and two on the bottom.

"You're spoiling her rotten."

"That's okay. Isn't it, sweetie pie? That's what aunties are for." She ruffled the baby's soft blond curls, eliciting more gurgling, a couple of foot stomps and some jabbering.

"But durable." Paula set her half-full cup of coffee on the wooden porch and leaned forward intently. "What's wrong, Mary? Besides losing Ben, I mean. Oh, I know that's enough. But there's something you're not telling me. We've been friends since we were Cindy's age, and this is the first time you've kept secrets from me. What are you scared of?"

Mary shook her head, looking away from Paula's probing gaze and biting her lip. Tears, always close to the surface, threatened to spill over if she tried to talk. Not that she would talk anyway. The last person she'd confided in was dead. Ben had been murdered because she'd talked.

She ought to be safe twenty miles outside the small town of Cottonwood which was another twenty miles away from Edgewater...away from Charles.

But she'd thought she was safe with Ben looking out for her and the baby. Nobody was ever really safe, and she wasn't going to endanger her friend or her friend's baby any more than she already had by coming to them for shelter.

"I've tried not to ask questions," Paula continued. "But I can tell something's wrong, and I'm worried about you."

"Everything's fine." It was the first lie she'd ever told her best friend.

"Yeah, right. Two weeks ago you call us to come get you at a bar outside of Edgewater. We do, no questions asked. You have nothing with you but the clothes on your back, not even your purse, you beg us not to tell anybody you're here, and now you say everything's fine. I don't think so."

Mary's head jerked up. "You haven't told anyone, have you?"

"Of course we haven't. And we won't. You know you can trust me completely and you know you're welcome to stay with Nick and me for as long as you want. Forever. No explanations required. But it's breaking my heart to see you this way. You jump at every noise, every time the phone rings, every time Nick drives up in the evening. You worry about Cindy constantly. Your eyes have a haunted look, like you're being pursued by the devil himself. And you never cry even though I know your heart's broken, that you're aching inside. I want so much to help you, but I don't know what to do."

Mary nodded, drawing one finger around the rim of her cup, avoiding Paula's gaze. "I know. I'm sorry."

Her friend waited as if expecting her to continue, but Mary had nothing else she dared say. Finally Paula sighed resignedly. "I understand how much you loved Ben and how distressed you are over his death. But I don't understand why his being killed by some druggie who's long gone would make you so afraid. You're not worried the man who did it is going to find you and kill you, are you?"

Mary didn't answer. She turned away, studying the trees in the yard, the rosebushes now bereft of blooms, the faint tire tracks left by Nick's car earlier that morning. Down the road the wind stirred up a cloud of dust.

Or a car was coming.

"Why would he do that?" Paula continued. "He's a stranger. He shot Ben because he didn't want to go to jail. You're no threat to him."

But Ben's murderer thought she was. Charles thought her baby was a threat to him, and she knew she could never convince him otherwise. She squinted against the morning sun, telling herself the dust was only that, not a car, not Charles. He could never find her here.

"You're pregnant, aren't you?"

Mary gasped and turned back to Paula.

"I know the signs. I've been there." She rose from her chair and knelt in front of Mary, Cindy between them. The baby turned to her mother and lifted her arms to be held. Paula wrapped one arm around her daughter and took Mary's hand with the other. "That's another thing I don't understand. You should be thrilled. I know you've always wanted babies. You adore Cindy. And this means you still have a little bit of Ben, his child."

Tears pooled in Mary's eyes. She and Paula had always been closer than sisters. They'd shared every part of growing up from their favorite dolls through their first bras and crushes on boys. Paula cared about her and wanted to help, and Mary wanted to tell her everything, share this latest secret and depend on Paula's friendship to help her get through it.

She couldn't tell Paula anything. By her very presence, she'd put her friend in danger. Somehow she had to protect Paula and Cindy as well as her own baby.

She yanked her hand away from Paula's grasp. "Take Cindy and go in the house." The voice that came from her mouth sounded strange and coarse to her own ears.

Charles got out of the car, and Mary rose even though a few minutes ago she'd have sworn she wouldn't be able to, that her legs would never support her, that she'd faint from the sheer terror and hopelessness of it all.