Tin God (16 page)

“Eli. It’s so good to see you.”

He looked up at her, dark curls matted to his head. His cheeks were flushed and his skin was damp with sweat.

“You were supposed to come babysit me, Aunt Jaymee.” He pointed an accusing finger at her.

“I know. And I will, soon as your mom and dad need me to.” She smiled at her sister-in-law. Quiet and reserved, Mary reminded Jaymee of her own mother–without the tyrant husband. She stayed at home with Eli and reveled in being a homemaker, but she also had her own life and opinions.

“It’s good to see you.” Mary covered her son’s ears. “I heard about Crystal. I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

Jaymee nodded. “I’m getting by, thanks.”

“You’re not staying in your trailer right now, are you? I can’t imagine it’s safe.”

“I’m staying with Lorelai and Oren Foster.”

“Good.” Mary’s hand fluttered to her heart. “I hate the idea of your being at Ravenna alone. I was going to offer for you to stay with us.”

Jaymee smiled gratefully. Mary never acknowledged the family divide. She always spoke as though Jaymee were just extremely busy and unable to visit. “Thank you. But I’m good.”

“Guess what?” Eli pulled at her apron. “Guess what we’re doing tonight?”

“What?” Jaymee clutched his sticky fingers with pretend excitement. “Let me guess. You’re going bowling. Or maybe Daddy’s taking you to the putt-putt course.”

“Even better.” His eyes widened into saucers. “We get to go to Grandma and Grandpa’s, cause guess why?”

“Why?”

“Uncle Holden is visiting.” Eli jumped up and down as though he’d just delivered the most exciting news in the world and waited for Jaymee to agree.

Ice formed in her veins and stilled her heart. Eli’s face blurred into a myriad of colors, and her hearing dulled. A thousand thoughts rushed through her brain, but she couldn’t make sense of any of them.

“Jaymee?” Mary spoke from far off. “Are you all right?”

The ice began to crack. She blinked, took a deep breath. The dullness in her ears switched to furious roaring. Her lips were numb, her cheeks ached. Had she been clenching her jaw?

“I’m fine,” she heard herself say. “Just a headache.”

“We’ll leave you be,” Mary said. “We just stopped in to pick up an apple pie. I know Holden loves those.” She lowered her voice. “You really should stop by. He’ll want to see you, and your father won’t fuss in front of him.”

Jaymee’s focus snapped into place. This was the closest Mary had ever come to mentioning the hatred between Jaymee and her father. Of course she would stop by. She wasn’t going to hide from Holden anymore. But he couldn’t know that. He’d be prepared, have the control.

“No,” she said. “I don’t want to ruin the visit.”

“How could you do that, Aunt Jaymee?” Eli asked.

She ruffled his curls. “Because I’m tired and cranky. You go see Uncle Holden and have fun.”

Jaymee blew kisses to Eli when they left, a plan already taking shape. She should call Cage or Nick. Even Oren. Tell one of them to come get her before she did something stupid. Run and hide, stick her head under a rock, pretend the devil incarnate wasn’t entertaining just blocks away.

Not this time.

The Ballard home looked just as it always had: a two-story colonial with a white picket fence, rosebushes strategically placed so the vibrant pink blooms peeked out between the slats in the fence, and a massive oak tree in the front yard. Paul even left the old rope swing hanging on the branches. The perfect picture of a happy family life.
Sans
the black sheep, of course.

Jaymee waited until darkness closed in. She didn’t need a nosy neighbor calling to kiss Paul’s ass by telling him his trashy daughter was skulking around. Just a block away now. Her hands tingled with every step, half-numb, half consumed with adrenaline. She envisioned them closing around Holden’s neck, squeezing the life out of him until he confessed. He deserved to be strangled just like her friends had been.

Too bad she wasn’t strong enough. Cicadas called as she passed, and a mockingbird shot out of one of the oak trees.

A knife would do it.

Manic laughter shattered the peaceful night. Jaymee covered her mouth when she realized it was her own. Would killing Holden be fun? She pictured him dropping to his knees, blood pouring from the wound she’d inflicted, begging for mercy. Finally, she’d have the power. He’d confess his sins like a good Baptist believing God’s forgiveness would still allow him into Heaven.

The rage she’d kept bottled up for years was now an inferno. Anger at herself and Penn Gereau now merged into a desperate need for vengeance.

Lana was dead. Rebecca was dead. Crystal—
dead
.

And Holden Wilcher held court in her family’s home as though he hadn’t destroyed countless lives.

He needed to pay.

Barbecue. The rich aroma filled the air. Light glowed from her parents’ backyard. The family was outside, no doubt enjoying some of Sonia’s excellent home cooking. Paul would have nothing less.

She reached the fence, pushed it open. Her hand fisted in her pocket. Control, she reminded herself. This was her moment, her one chance.

The front door now, adorned with a wreath of fake roses. Unlocked. She twisted the brass knob and pushed the door open. Front room dimly lit by the lamp sitting next to her father’s recliner. Sonia’s knitting next to hers. A new television. Flat screen. How modern.

Her eyes strayed down the hall. The guest room was close. She could pilfer through Holden’s things and leave, not cause a scene, go on to fight another day.

Too bad that’s not what she came for.

Through the kitchen now. Lights were on, food spread out on the butcher-block counter. Daisies in a vase on the table. Holden always brought her mother daisies.

Laughter outside.
His
. Bold, contagious. Sickening. Her pulse charged. She was really going to do this. Bring the pain–the shame–to him. Her family probably wouldn’t believe her, but at least the truth would be out there, oozing like an infected wound and impossible to ignore.

Jaymee saw him now. Six foot tall, swimmer’s body, still in shape. Dark, wavy hair peppered with gray and always in place. Tan skin complementing a white smile. Holden stood near the grill talking with Darren. Her brother would be disappointed in her for causing such chaos.

Eli laughed. A brief pang of discomfort. She was counting on Mary to get the little boy out of earshot as soon as she started slinging the mud.

Time. Now. She breathed deeply. Honey barbecue mixed with summer flowers and humidity. Lovely.

Jaymee slid the screen door open and stepped out onto the Ballard’s weathered deck.

“Hello, family.”

“Aunt Jaymee! You came!” Detaching himself from Paul, Eli rushed to her, face covered with sauce.

Her father turned scarlet. Sonia stilled, glass of iced tea frozen in mid-air. Mary tried to smile and then faltered at the look on Jaymee’s face. Darren blinked, cocking his head in confusion.

“Hey, sis.”

Holden beamed. He turned from the grill, tongs in hand, arms outstretched. “My goodness. What a happy surprise.”

Jaymee closed the door. “Is it really, Reverend Wilcher?”

“Of course.” He dropped his hands, but the smile remained.

“Liar.”

“That’s enough.” Paul strode forward, his face so purple Jaymee hoped another heart attack was on the way. She tightened her fist.

“Do not touch me.” The strength of her voice stopped her father in his tracks.

Mary sprang into action. “Mr. Eli, we need to get you cleaned up. Let’s go.” She carried the protesting boy past Jaymee, who whispered a heartfelt thank you.

Her footsteps faded away. The bathroom light came on. Jaymee turned back to her family. Embattled mother, father, bastard, and brother, all poised in various states of defense and attack.

“Jaymee, what’s going on?” Darren approached her first. She loosened her fist, held up her hand to stop him.

“I’m sorry, Darren. I know this will hurt you. But it’s time for the truth.”

“You’ve been through a lot this past week, Jay. Let’s you and me go out front and talk about it.” Darren reached for her, and for a moment, she wanted to allow her brother to lead her away, calm her down, make her feel sane again.
Safe
.

“No.”

“Sweetheart.” Her mother’s voice caught Jaymee off guard. White-faced, Sonia glanced at her husband and shrunk from his hateful glare. Then, to Jaymee’s surprise, she stuck her chin up and squared her shoulders. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. Come inside. Talk to me.”

Sonia looked much older than her fifty years. Her honey-blond hair was almost entirely gray, and heavy wrinkles lined her eyes and mouth. She was heavier than Jaymee remembered, her chest straining against the modest blouse she wore.

“I’ll fix you a plate before you leave.”

Jaymee’s heart hurt at the desperation in her mother’s voice. Sonia had suffered so much. Jaymee was only adding to that misery tonight. “No, Mom. I’m sorry, but I have something to say.”

“You don’t have anything to say.” Paul moved again, but Holden caught him by the shoulder.

“Now, Paul. Let the girl speak.” His smirk held challenge. He didn’t think she had the guts.
Prepare for shock and awe, pig
.

“Thank you, Holden.”

Jaymee turned to her mother for reasons she couldn’t explain. “Remember my daughter, Mom? The little girl I gave up for adoption?”

Darren started coughing. Paul made a choking sound. Jaymee stayed focused on Sonia. Her doe-eyed, abused mother opened her mouth but didn’t speak. Tears welled in her eyes. She shook her head and sat down.

“Of course you do–all of you. Especially you, Holden. Remember? You were so kind as to help me keep my sin a secret and find a good home for our child.”

“Why are you doing this?” Darren asked.

“Shall I tell them, Reverend Wilcher, or would you care to do the honors?”

“My dear girl, I’m afraid–”

“Save it.” Jaymee gathered every ounce of courage and looked straight at her father. “I think you knew all along. And you didn’t care. Not about me. Only about your precious reputation. Do not keep talking so proudly or let your mouth speak such arrogance, for the Lord is a God who knows, and by him deeds are weighed. 1 Samuel 2.3.”

“You disrespectful harlot.” Paul was in a full rage now. “How dare you spout the Lord’s words to me!”

“How dare you pretend to abide by them.”

Her father closed in. She stood her ground. Let him come. His skin was just as fragile as the good reverend’s.

Darren stepped between them, pushing Paul back. “Enough, Dad.”

“You’re right, it is.” Jaymee watched Holden’s profile. His jaw was tight, eyelids twitching. Nervous. Good. “Holden, I’m here to tell you I’m going to find my daughter. And I’m going to prove what you did to her, to me, and to countless other mothers. But first, I’m going to tell my own family the truth.”

Holden waited.

“When I was sixteen, Holden started telling me how beautiful I was, how well I’d grown. He understood the misery I lived in, the fear and hate from you, Paul. He made me feel special, wanted. I allowed him to become everything in my world.”

“He told me he loved me. That he’d always be there for me. I was young, stupid, and abused. I gave him my virginity. Eventually, he gave me our daughter.”

“Lying bitch.” Paul tried to escape, but Holden grabbed his arm. Darren looked green.

“I’ll handle this.” Holden faced Jaymee. Then she saw it: fear. He knew she’d discovered his secret, and he was scared.
Of her
.

“Let’s you and me speak in private. Settle this peacefully.”

Jaymee stuck her hand in her pocket, fisted the knife she’d swiped from Sallie’s. “Absolutely.”

Every hair on the back of her neck stood at attention on the walk to the living room. Visions of Holden reaching forward and choking the life out of her sent adrenaline racing through her system. She clutched the knife in her pocket. He’d learn some humility tonight.

She stalked to the middle of the room and spun to face him. “So let’s talk.”

He sat down in Paul’s recliner, assuming the spot of proverbial power. Holden crossed his legs, hands around his knees. He still had the gall to look confused. “What are you doing, Jaymee?”

“What I should have done a long time ago.”

“You did the right thing back then. The child’s with a good family.”

“You’d know, wouldn’t you? How much did they pay you for her?”

Holden’s face might have been carved from stone, with black granite for the dead eyes and heavy clay for the lips.

“I’m sorry?”

“The parents you sold our baby to. How much? Did they even know what they were doing? Or did you and your attorney hide the profit in his fees?”

“You’re talking crazy.”

“Nope. Just the truth.”

Holden’s mask slipped, and his face turned dark and menacing. He uncrossed his legs, hands quaking in his lap. He’d been thrown completely off guard. She figured he was in Roselea to find out what she and Nick knew, but he likely never dreamed she’d stand up to him. The king wasn’t used to being challenged.

“I’m not worried.”

“So you’re admitting it.”

“Didn’t say that.”

“But I know something you don’t.” She caught herself. Mentioning Elaine Andrews’s name would be a huge mistake. Better to bluff with what she knew. “Lana had the proof. She was murdered. Rebecca knew. She was murdered. Now Crystal.”

Holden’s condescending laugh filled her with rage. She started to pull the knife from her pocket.

“That’s your proof? The deaths of three women?”

“Three women who all had information that could bring you and your accomplices down.”

“Accomplices?”

“Royce Newton. He’s the attorney who gets the clients to believe they’re paying legal fees instead of buying a baby. Debra R. Davies is the fake social worker you sic on naïve mothers. And my father. He’s the muscle, right?”

Holden’s stony silence was answer enough.

“Lana had physical proof. Her killer took it. But we know what it is. You couldn’t keep it hidden forever.”

“We?” Holden asked. “Who’s helping you on this magical quest?”

“Nick Samuels, Lana’s husband. It’s personal for him, too.”

Another laugh, his head thrown back. Jugular exposed.

Reach forward. Slice his throat. Run
.

“That’s right. Your daddy told me you took a weekend trip to Jackson with the widower. I should have known. That man’s been after me for years. Some sort of imagined personal vendetta. Is he the one filling your head with these lies?”

“Lies? Where are Sarah’s adoption records?”

“Sealed.”

“Nonexistent. Where’s Debra Davies?”

“I don’t know.”

“Sure you do. You just know her real name. Davies is the alias she uses when she’s stealing babies. What’s your cut, by the way? I know you aren’t splitting it equally. You’re not that generous.”

He stood and moved toward her. Jaymee couldn’t yank the knife out of her pocket in time. Holden took her by the shoulders. His touch made her skin itch; his pitiful smile made her feel stupid. “Jaymee, listen to yourself. You’re not making any sense.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No.” He spoke in a low, soothing tone. “You’ve suffered a lot of loss lately. Then this Samuels comes to town and plays with your head, convincing you of some great conspiracy. Don’t you see? He’s preying on the guilt you carry and using it for his own vengeful agenda.”

“No.”

“I understand. She’s your firstborn. No matter how many other children you have, you’ll always miss her. And that’s okay. But know that she’s in a better place. Isn’t that what matters?”

She’d forgotten how persuasive he could be. The way his dark eyes seemed to glow when he spoke. His deep voice a gentle cadence of southern charm. Jaymee waffled, caught between the truth she knew in her heart and the lonely teenager she’d never quite left behind.

“I know what’s best for you,” Holden said. “For your daughter. It’s time to let her go, Jaymee. She’s happy. Don’t
you
want to be happy?”

“Yes.”

“Then walk away now. Forget about this before you ruin us all.”

The spell snapped. Jaymee slammed her fists into his chest and shoved him away. “That’s all you care about–your precious reputation. You’re a fraud, and I’m going to prove it. I’ll get an attorney, find my child, and get a paternity test. Then all of your secrets will come tumbling down around your pompous ass. Can’t kill everyone, Holden.”

“I haven’t killed anyone.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But you’re calling the shots.”

“You’ll never prove a damned thing.” Real Holden had come back out to play.

“Oh, but I will. I don’t care how long it takes.”

“You think any attorney is going to take on the likes of you? No money, no evidence but your crazy theories and whining pity? Against me? A man of the church? A television personality? Get real, child.”

“Pride goeth before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.”

“Quoting the Bible may make you feel powerful, but you’re still the same scared, naïve little girl you always were. You’re trying to jump into the pool with sharks, Jaymee. Don’t be fooled. We bite.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“And here I thought I could talk some sense into you.”

“I thought I could cut you.” Jaymee pulled out the knife and twisted it in her hands. The blade caught the lamplight, shining in the dim room. “Still could try, I suppose. But then I’d go to jail, and I wouldn’t get to enjoy your fall from grace.”

“You’re digging your own pit, Jaymee.”

“This is just the beginning.” The knife was nothing more than a distraction. She wasn’t stupid enough to use it. She jammed it back into the pocket of her apron.

“You’re too late.” A tremor of panic broke through Holden’s arrogant tone. “I know something you don’t.”

“Not for long.”

“The child is lost to you.”

“I’ll find her.”

“I saw her father just the other day. Fine man.”

“What?”

“It’s been a while since we’d spoken, but I wanted to check in,” Holden said. “Girl looks like you did as a baby, you know. Curls and all. They’re leaving the country. This weekend, actually. Her father accepted a position overseas. Came up quite unexpectedly.”

Blinding, searing, paralyzing desperation. Jaymee searched his eyes for signs of deception, but his smile was so sinister, so prideful, she knew he was telling the truth.

“You did this.”

“I may have put in a good word. Owner of his company is a parishioner.”

“You won’t get away with it.”

“I already have.”

She slapped him. His head recoiled with the force. Satisfying red marks spread over his cheek.

“Jaymee.” Darren stood in the doorway, mouth gaping open. “How could you?”

Holden winked at her before turning to face her brother. “It’s all right, son. She’s out of sorts. I don’t mind being her fall guy.”

“The things she said about you–”

“Settled. A cry for attention.”

Darren looked at her with pity-filled eyes. “I’m sorry, Jaymee. I didn’t know things were that bad for you. Why didn’t you ask me for help?”

“Why would I?” She choked out around the building sob. “You clearly don’t want to believe the truth.”

“I want to help you. So does Holden.”

“He’s the devil, Darren. Maybe one day you’ll finally see it.”

She stumbled around the room, banging her thigh against the sofa table. Panic building, tears rising.

“Jaymee, let me help.” Holden mocked her now, delighting in her brother’s audience.

“Please,” Darren said. “I’m here for you, too.”

She wrenched open the door and gathered the last of her self-control. She looked over her shoulder at the two men. At that moment, she hated them both.

“You’re a damned fool, Darren.” Her voice wavered and nearly broke. Jaymee let the door slam behind her. The dark night was a blur as she hurried down the sidewalk and turned in the direction of Annabelle’s.

###

Nick rubbed his eyes until they stung. The notes he’d spent the last hour scrawling blurred. He was certain Wilcher was behind the murders, but the reverend hadn’t been around to commit the crimes, and his supporting cast had no intention of giving him up. He doubted Gereau would be able to get the truth out of Newton if the man had actually killed his own wife. The attorney was definitely involved, but that didn’t make him a murderer.

But if Ballard had done the killing, Newton was willing to keep his mouth shut. Was the attorney so controlled by Wilcher’s scheme and his own greed he would stand aside for his wife to die?

Someone banged on his door. The knock was sharp and fast, the opposite of Annabelle’s gentle rap.

“Are you going to let me in?”

Jaymee
. His breath quickened, and he stood on shaky legs. “I’m coming.”