Ultimate Sins (16 page)

The tension in the air increased.

“Is this a funeral or a meeting?” Anna muttered as she and Amelia sat down. “And why isn't anyone sitting with us?”

Amelia would have answered but her gaze caught Linda's at that moment. The determination she read in the other woman's eyes had her stomach sinking.

“Before we begin discussing our normal week's business we have a situation that must be addressed,” Linda announced, her gaze moving around the room.

Linda stood stiffly erect, her plumpening figure dressed in black slacks and a dark gray, loose sweater that hid her curvy hips. Her blond hair was pulled into a tight ponytail today, her makeup applied with a heavy hand.

“What is her problem?” Anna questioned under her breath.

“Ladies,” Linda repeated as everyone's attention turned to her. “As president of the Ladies Auxiliary and Social Planning Committee, I never imagined the day would come when it would be my unfortunate duty to ask an officer or coordinator of our organization to step down or to rescind her position.”

Anna came sharply to attention beside Amelia with an angry, hissed, “Oh hell no, she isn't.”

Placing her hand on Anna's arm, Amelia kept her attention on Linda.

“Because of the very unique position that we, as the auxiliary's officers, find ourselves in, as well as the position our very good friend and social planning coordinator finds herself in, I sent an email ballot out for a vote to determine whether we should keep Amelia in her position or let her go.”

A low hum of whispered discussion raced around the room. Amelia kept her gaze on Linda despite the heat of humiliation that suffused her face.

“The vote that came back was, unfortunately, to release Amelia as social planning coordinator, effective immediately.”

Effective immediately.

The sense of loss threatened to strangle her.

“Excuse me,” Marianne Collins, the widow of a former commissioner, requested firmly, waiting until all eyes turned to her and Linda gave her the floor with a hesitant nod. “I did not receive a ballot by email or otherwise. My understanding of the auxiliary guidelines is that it requires a unanimous vote to rescind an officer or position.”

“I didn't receive a ballot, either,” Anna said, ignoring Amelia's silent look of warning.

Tightening her lips momentarily, Linda bent her head to her mother, listening as Ruth Anne spoke. Linda finally gave a quick, hard shake of her head before straightening once again.

“Marianne, Anna.” She nodded to both women. “Unfortunately, we as an organization, and Amelia personally, are facing a rather unique position.” Linda stepped from behind the podium as she pushed her hands into the pockets of her slacks and looked down momentarily before lifting her head, her expression one of regret. “This situation threatens the integrity of the auxiliary as well as the participation of the residents, vendors, and performers that are required to ensure the success of each event, as well as the season.”

“Linda?” Timid-voiced, steel-willed Kate Hardy, the daughter of the city commissioner, spoke up. “Why weren't we all asked to vote? As Marianne stated, the guidelines require a unanimous vote.”

“Where's the fairness in that? Or in the members you chose to send the ballot to?” Anna stood to her feet mutinously, her arms crossing defiantly over her breasts. “Who received this email? Only those you could convince to vote your way? Strange, I thought the auxiliary was a democratic organization, Linda, not your personal little sandbox.”

A wave of protests as well as agreements swept the room as Amelia grabbed her friend's arm and jerked her back to her chair. “Enough,” she demanded, her voice low. “Don't make enemies here, Anna. Not over this.”

Anna glared back at her. “Your words,” she reminded Amelia. “Don't cower or back down. This isn't right—”

“Anna,” Linda stated from the podium. “Regardless of the fairness of it, or the guidelines, unfortunately, the original creators of the auxiliary simply never foresaw this particular situation.” She grimaced in distaste. “I'm very sorry about this, Amelia, but despite my own personal feelings, we need you to turn over all materials, plans, and contacts to the committee, as required by the by-laws you signed when you accepted the position as the auxiliary social planning director.”

Oh, she just bet they did, Amelia thought painfully as she shook her head. “I didn't sign the by-laws, Linda.” That single piece of advice Wayne had given her five years before made more sense as she continued. “You'll find instead my own notarized addition at the end of the packet stating that I only be required to turn over any plans, contacts, or information received from the coordinator I replaced. I received nothing. I understand your fears and your position as president of the auxiliary. But what you're asking me to do is turn over what amounts to untold hours of personal time and effort as well as forgoing the use of my own experience and contacts I've made for future employment once I've turned over my materials. I can't do that. I won't do that.”

Livid anger filled Linda's expression as the auxiliary secretary showed her the back of a packet Amelia assumed was her own.

“This vote and the demand that she step down,
after nearly completing plans for not just this year's social, but next year's as well,
is completely unconscionable and so lacking in fairness as to be laughable,” Anna protested strenuously as she rose again, flattening her hands against the table in front of her as she glared at Linda.

Closing the packet and moving once again behind the podium, Linda stared back at Anna, anger burning in her face and gaze.

“Tell me, Miss Corbin,” she asked heavily. “What do we do when residents refuse to attend because the daughter of the man who murdered his way through this county is still planning the socials? How do we explain that? How do we, in all good conscience, force the citizens of this county to face his daughter or face the subtle ways this county punishes its residents for not attending or not supporting the events?”

Shame lashed at Amelia, just as Linda intended. Whether it was fair or not, as she stated, Amelia had no doubt the auxiliary committee had already received phone calls stating just that.

The position it left both her and Linda in was less than deserved or wanted. But here they were.

“I would have, and still would, do anything if I could change what Wayne had done,” Amelia stated, her voice heavy with regret. “No one could feel more shame or regret over a family member's actions than I do.” She fought back her tears, but she couldn't stop the thickening of her voice. “I'm not protesting the fact that I've been asked to leave; it was no more than I expected. What I find unfair is the timing. As Anna stated, this has come after the completion of plans and contracts of the next two years' events. I'll leave, but I will not turn over all copies of the plans, materials, and contacts to the board or anyone else. Nor will I sign away my right to use them at a future date in any employment situation. I will not allow you to steal what amounts to seven years of my life and simply hand it over to someone who has no idea of the untold hours of networking it took to complete each event.”

The position and the work she put into the planning of events and coordinating each phase of the county's social calendar had been her life. She had had no family, no lovers. She'd had her events, and she had loved each phase of it.

“That's bullshit,” Anna argued at her side, brushing Amelia's hand aside as she tried to shush her friend. “If the victims' families actually requested your resignation, then I could understand it,” she continued fiercely. “But I know those families. Amelia knows them, well. We stood at their funerals together and held their loved ones more than once as they cried. And I know for a fact they all distrusted and disliked Wayne Sorenson and considered Amelia one of their dearest friends. No one but those families has the right to ask for her resignation. Certainly, Linda, you don't have that right.”

Amelia shook her head. Anna could only think of the loss of time and cherished projects Amelia would lose if forced to walk away. She wasn't considering the position the auxiliary would be in with the rest of the public.

It wasn't Linda who addressed the argument this time, though. Her mother, Ruth Anne, rose to her feet instead.

“How effective will any of that effort be, Anna, no matter the work or the love that's gone into it, if the residents—whether of the victims' families or not—can't tolerate the daughter of the man that all but destroyed this county? Or that his daughter is allowed to continue to build her reputation and her name because of this position?” Ruth Anne asked gently. “I may not approve of Linda's handling of this situation, but I must say I agree with her arguments for it. Just as those who were asked to vote understand it, as well as the committee. And it's a committee Amelia must work with. One that must approve each phase of her plans. How can we do that effectively when there's resentment or even fear for our personal safety should we question or disapprove those plans?” She held up a hand as Anna moved to protest, but it was Amelia's gaze she met with compassion and regret. “My dear, you are a cherished friend who has, I know, suffered the consequences of standing between Wayne and the petty injustices he often used to strike out at many of our families. We kept the vote secretive in an attempt to protect those we asked to vote as well as ourselves, because Amory Wyatt was and now—along with Wayne—still is free and a possible threat. Only this evening did we learn Wayne wasn't in that explosion as we all first believed. And he has by the very fact that he murdered each woman suspected to have been in a Callahan's bed, with the exception of you, shown his preference for you. Who's to say he wouldn't return and kill again should one of the auxiliary officers, members, or the group as a whole do something that displeases him? No, it isn't fair,” she sighed. “To any of us. But it's an issue we can't ignore.”

Amelia covered her mouth, her fingers shaking nearly as fiercely as her lips as she fought to hold back her tears. Beside her, Anna plopped back into her seat, her arms crossing over her breasts as she glared back at the officers on stage mutinously.

Looking around the room, Amelia didn't miss the members' unwillingness to meet her gaze. This was a battle she couldn't have won, no matter the argument used. She would have warned her friend of that, if she had known Anna would argue so fiercely in her defense.

“The auxiliary by-laws demand that all work done in its name and all contacts or efforts made under the committee's direction belong to it,” Linda stated, her voice soft, the earlier aggression lost beneath a saddened weariness. “The officers of the committee are willing to sign an addendum that should you turn over this year's plans and notes and do what you can to aid a seamless transition; then we'll acknowledge your right to use the knowledge you've built over the years should it be required to employ yourself. We never wanted to hurt you, Amelia. And I personally never felt any animosity toward you, though I admit I have a great and overriding animosity for the situation itself.” Her expression firmed then. “But neither do any of us want to be hurt because of you.”

Amelia glanced around the room once again before lowering her head for long moments.

Each woman in this room had, at one time or another, come to her for help because of Wayne. None of them was stupid; they had known the price she would pay each time they asked for her help. But they had asked anyway.

The bruises, broken bones, and years of humiliations inflicted by Wayne meant little in the face of their personal safety. She couldn't blame them for that.

She'd told herself that should she ever need any of them, then they would stand behind her. That Wayne had been wrong when he'd called her a fool for standing against him to help them.

“You'll regret putting your neck in the noose every time they come whining to you,” Wayne stated somberly, regret threading his voice as she lay on the floor, fighting to breathe after he'd slammed his fist into her abdomen. He'd caught her off-guard and she'd sworn he had to have cracked a rib. “When will you learn, Amelia?” He hunched beside her to brush the hair back from her face as he stared down at her, his tone incredibly gentle. “They could be standing here, knowing the pain you're feeling, and they'd still use you up. They would still ask you to risk yourself because they're such fucking cowards that they can't risk themselves or accept the reprisals for the choices they've made.”

Each one of these women owed her.

But they couldn't do anything if the reverend whose daughter had been murdered by Wayne protested Amelia's involvement in the socials by asking his congregation to ignore the county's varied ways of rewarding participation or punishing absence.

They couldn't stop the newspaper articles that mentioned her involvement with the county's events, and they couldn't stop the protests by citizens or residents unaware of how often or how hard Amelia had worked for them in her position as Wayne's assistant.

“Don't you dare give in to them, Amelia,” Anna hissed at her side. “They knew they could play your conscience.”

But they were right. Amelia hated acknowledging it, but it stared her in the face through the eyes of the women who accidentally met her gaze.

She nodded slowly, ignoring Anna's muttered curse beside her.

“Get the release prepared,” she told Linda wearily as she gripped the hand of the case she'd brought with her. “Once it's prepared you can email me the agreement for my lawyer to go over before I sign it.”

Turning, she moved around Anna's chair, preparing to leave.

“Amelia.” Ruth Anne's gentle voice had Amelia shaking her head fiercely as she hurried from the meeting room, all but running in her haste to get away from them.