Witness (13 page)

“No. I'm not… Just take me home. I can't handle a repeat performance of that night eleven years ago when we left the country club together.”

“It wouldn't be the same. We aren't the same,” he said. “We'd both know what we were getting into this time.”

“That's the problem, isn't it? At least for me.”

The music came to a end. Couples left the dance floor, while others waited for the next set to begin. Deborah pulled away from Ashe, intending to make a quick exit. Ashe jerked her into his arms, grasped the back of her head with his hand and kissed her, long, hard and devouring. Every rational thought went out of her head.

When she was weak and breathless, he ended the kiss, draped his arm around her shoulders and escorted her off the dance floor, past a glaring Whitney and her openmouthed guests.

“Every person in this room knows you're mine,” he whispered as they walked out into the hall. “And since they're aware of my reputation, no one will doubt that I'm the kind of man who'd kill to defend his own.”

D
EBORAH FOLDED THE
blueprints and laid them aside. She couldn't seem to concentrate on the plans for Cotton Lane Estates, although she had promised Vaughn & Posey's backers a detailed report on their present subdivision project.

She lifted the cup of warm coffee to her lips and downed the sweet liquid. Clutching the coffee mug in her hands, she closed her eyes. In a few days, Lon Sparks's trial would begin and she'd be called on to testify. The waiting had been almost unbearable, not knowing what might or might not happen. She couldn't give in to her fears and allow the likes of Buck Stansell to frighten her into backing down from doing what she knew was right. But sometimes she wondered what her mother and Allen would do if anything happened to her. Her mother's health was so precarious, and Allen was still so young. What if he lost both her and her mother?

Ashe McLaughlin had a right to know he had a son. That's what her mother had told Deborah's father years ago and that's what she kept telling Deborah now. If anything were to happen to the two women in Allen's life, he would still have his father.

But how could she tell Ashe the truth? She and her mother had kept the true circumstances of Allen's birth a secret for ten years. What would Allen do if he suddenly discovered that the two people he loved and trusted most in the world had been lying to him his whole life?

No, she didn't dare risk losing Allen's love by telling Ashe
the truth. She had no way of knowing how Ashe would react and whether or not he'd tell Allen everything.

Her mother had warned her that sooner or later Ashe would have to be told. Deborah had decided that it must be later, much later. She had to be strong. Just a little while longer. Ashe wouldn't stay in Sheffield if she wasn't in danger. He would walk out of their lives and never look back, the way he'd done eleven years ago. She could trust him with her life, but not with her heart—and not with Allen's future.

When she heard a soft knock at the door, Deborah opened her eyes. “Yes?”

Annie Laurie eased the door open. “Mr. Shipman's on the phone. He says it's urgent he speak to you.”

“Mr. Shipman? The principal at Allen's school?”

“Yes, that Mr. Shipman.”

“Okay. Thanks, Annie Laurie.” Deborah picked up the telephone and punched the Incoming Call button. “Hello, Mr. Shipman, this is Deborah Vaughn. Is something wrong?”

Ashe slipped by Annie Laurie and into Deborah's private office, closing the door behind him. Deborah glanced at him.

“Ms. Vaughn, you need to come to school and pick up Allen,” Mr. Shipman said. “I'm afraid there's been a problem on the playground during PE class.”

“Has Allen been in a fight?” Deborah asked.

Ashe lifted his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders as if saying “Boys will be boys.”

“Oh, no Ms. Vaughn, I didn't mean to imply that Allen had gotten himself into any trouble. Quite the contrary. It seems that when the fifth graders were playing softball during PE, a stranger approached Allen. Your brother won't tell us what the man said to him, but Allen seems terribly upset. I thought it best to phone you immediately.”

“Yes, yes, you did the right thing, Mr. Shipman. I'll be right over.” Deborah's heartbeat throbbed loudly in her ears, obliterating every other sound, even Ashe's voice. “Please, don't leave
Allen alone. Make sure someone is with him until I pick him up.” Deborah returned the phone to its cradle.

When Deborah didn't respond to his questions, Ashe grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her gently. “What's going on? Has something happened to Allen?”

“A strange man approached Allen on the playground during PE. Mr. Shipman said the man upset Allen.” Deborah clutched the lapels of Ashe's jacket. “What if— Oh, God, Ashe, what if Buck Stansell sent someone to hurt Allen?”

“Did anyone besides Allen get a good look at this man? Did they see whether he was on foot or driving?”

“I didn't think to ask, dammit.” Releasing her hold on Ashe, Deborah walked around to the front of her desk. Yanking open the bottom drawer, she lifted out her leather bag and threw the straps over her shoulder. “I have to pick up Allen and take him home. I have to make sure he's all right. If anyone dares harm him, I'll—”

“I'll take care of anyone who threatens Allen, in the same way I'll handle anyone who threatens you.” Ashe held out his hand. “Give me the keys to your Caddy. I'll drive. On the way over to the school, pull yourself together. Allen doesn't need to see how upset you are.”

Deborah took a deep breath. “You're right. It's just that, in the back of my mind, I kept wondering if and when Buck Stansell would target Mother or Allen. Oh, Ashe, I can't let anything happen to Allen.”

“Nothing is going to happen to Allen.” He took her hand in his. “I promise.”

Within five minutes they marched side by side into Richard Shipman's office where Allen sat, silent and unmoving, in a corner chair. The minute he saw Deborah, he ran into her open arms.

“Give us a few minutes alone with Allen,” Ashe said to the principal, who immediately nodded agreement and exited his office.

“What happened, sweetheart?” Deborah asked, bending on her knees, hugging her child close, stroking his thick blond hair. “Tell us everything.”

Allen clung to Deborah for several moments, then glanced over at Ashe. “You can't let them do anything to hurt her.”

“Allen, will you tell me what happened?” Ashe reached down and patted Allen on the back.

Allen shook his head, released his tenacious hold on Deborah, but still clung to her hand as she stood. “He walked up to me on the playground. I was waiting my turn at bat. He said he knew my sister and that he wanted me to give her a message.”

“Oh, Ashe!” Deborah clenched her teeth tightly together in an effort not to cry in front of Allen.

Laying his hand on Deborah's shoulder, Ashe gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Had you ever seen this man before?”

“No,” Allen said.

“Come on, let's go sit down over here on the sofa.” Deborah led Allen across the room to the small, leather sofa situated against the back wall between two oak filing cabinets. “I want you to answer all of Ashe's questions. He's here to help us. Do you understand?”

“What—what do you want to know?” Allen looked at Ashe.

“Would you recognize the man if you ever saw him again? Can you tell me what he looked like?”

“Yeah, I'd recognize him, all right. He was big and ugly and he smelled bad.”

“Sounds like somebody Buck would sent around to frighten a child,” Ashe said.

“He didn't scare me.” Allen tightened his hold on Deborah's hand. “I told him off. If you don't believe me, just ask Tripper Smith. He heard me telling that guy he'd better leave my sister alone.”

Ashe knelt down in front of Allen. “I know you're brave and that you'd fight for your sister.”

Deborah forced a smile when she looked at Allen's pale little face. “Did the man try to hurt you?”

“Naw, he just said to give my sister a message. He said to tell you that if you show up in court Monday, you'll be very sorry. And I told him that nothing he said or did would keep you from testifying against that murderer. And he said if you did, you were stupid. That's when I tried to hit him, but he just laughed and walked away.”

“Did your teacher see the man, or any of the other kids beside this Tripper Smith?” Ashe asked.

“My teacher didn't see nothing, but several of the kids saw him. Tripper's the one who went and told Coach Watkins what had happened.”

“Okay, Allen, why don't you and Deborah go do whatever is necessary to get you checked out of school for the day. I'll make a couple of phone calls and then we'll be ready to leave.” Ashe wished he had the big, bad-smelling stranger in front of him right now. He'd teach Buck Stansell's messenger that it wasn't nice to go around frightening little boys, especially not a child under his protection.

“Are we going home?” Allen asked. “Do we have to tell Mother what happened? She'll just worry.”

“We aren't going home,” Ashe said. “I think you and Deborah and I should go somewhere for burgers and fries and then do something fun together this afternoon. How does that sound to you, Allen?”

“Sounds great to me.” Allen looked at Deborah. “Can I really play hooky for the rest of the day?”

“You bet you can.” Deborah stood. Allen jumped up beside her. “We'll go get Allen checked out of school and wait for you in the office.”

“I'll only be a few minutes.” Ashe picked up the telephone and dialed the police department. “Allen, I know you don't want
to worry your mother, but we'll have to tell her what happened when we go home.”

Allen nodded. Deborah ushered him out of the principal's office, thankful that Ashe McLaughlin was taking charge of the situation, thankful that she hadn't had to face this alone. The thought that they had come together like a family—a mother, a father and their child—flashed through Deborah's mind. She couldn't allow herself the indulgence of such thoughts. Thinking of the three of them as a family could be dangerous.

 

“I
CAN'T EAT
another bite.” Ashe shoved a French fry into Deborah's mouth. She slapped his hand away.

“I want one of those sundaes, don't you, Ashe?” Allen read the list of desserts off the wall sign behind the counter. “I want caramel with nuts.”

“That's my favorite, too.” Ashe slid out from behind the booth. “I'll order us both one. What do you want, Deborah?”

“Nothing! I've eaten enough for a couple of meals.”

“Ah, she's just worried she'll get fat,” Allen said. “She used to be sort of plump a long time ago. Hey, you already know that. You knew Deborah even before I did.”

“So I did.” Ashe sauntered off to order their desserts, coming back with two caramel sundaes and a small chocolate ice-cream cone, which he handed to Deborah.

“Chocolate used to be your favorite,” he said.

“It still is,” she admitted, taking the cone and napkin he handed her. During the last months of her pregnancy, she had craved chocolate ice cream. Maybe that was the reason Allen hated the stuff. She'd gorged him on it before he'd been born.

She didn't realize she'd been sitting there smiling, a dazed look in her eyes until Ashe waved his hand in front of her face.

“Where did you go?” he asked. “You're a million miles away.”

“Just thinking about chocolate ice cream,” she said.

“Well, you'd better eat it before it melts.” Allen lifted a spoonful of his sundae to his mouth. “Thanks for getting extra nuts, Ashe.”

“Nothing's too good for us, pal.” Ashe didn't think he'd ever felt about a kid the way he felt about Allen. He didn't understand it, couldn't explain it, but he felt connected to Allen Vaughn. Maybe it was because of his past history with the family, his respect for Miss Carol, his friendship with Deborah. Whatever the cause, he found himself wondering what it would be like to have a child of his own, a boy like Allen.

“Now who's gathering moss?” Deborah wondered what Ashe was thinking. The man was such a mystery to her. Once she'd thought she knew him, but she'd been wrong. He'd never been the man she thought he was.

“What can folks do on a weekday afternoon around here for fun?” Ashe asked. “How about a movie?”

“No matinees except on the weekend,” Deborah said.

“What about miniature golf?” Allen wiped his mouth with his paper napkin. “I think it's still open every afternoon until Thanksgiving.”

“How about it, Deborah, are you game for a round of golf?” Ashe smiled at her and she returned his smile. “You should do that more often, you know.”

“What?” she asked.

“Smile like that. A guy would agree to anything you wanted if you smiled at him like that.” The warmth of her smile brought back memories of the way she'd smiled at him, lying in his arms in the moonlight, down by the river. He had never forgotten that beautiful smile or the way it had made him feel just looking at her.

“Aw, are you getting all mushy?” Allen shook his head. “Save all that love talk for when you're alone with her. I'm too young to hear stuff like that.”

“Allen!” Deborah rolled her eyes heavenward.

“Eat your sundae,” Ashe said. “And I'll keep in mind that
you aren't old enough to learn from a master just yet. But in a few more years, you'll be begging me to share my secrets of seduction with you.”

“Ashe! Of all things to say to a ten-year-old.”

“Ah, lay off Ashe.” Allen spoke with his mouth half full of sundae. He swallowed. “You just don't understand guy stuff.”

“Oh, well, excuse me.” Grinning, Deborah licked the dripping ice cream from around the edge of her cone. She glanced over at Ashe, who watched her intently, his vision focused on her mouth. She licked a circle around the chocolate ice cream, all the while watching Ashe watch her. This was a grown-up game she was playing, a subtle sexual game that Allen wouldn't notice. But Ashe noticed. He knew precisely what she was doing and why.

His jaw tightened. His eyes shone with the intensity of their gaze, fixed on her mouth, on her tongue. He gripped the edge of the table with one hand and laid his tightly clenched fist beside his half-eaten sundae.

She was arousing him and she knew it. She liked the sense of power he gave her by his display of desire. If they were alone, instead of sitting in a fast-food restaurant with Allen, she wasn't sure she'd have the nerve to tempt Ashe.

“Are you any good at playing miniature golf?” Allen tossed his plastic spoon into his empty sundae bowl. “Hey, Ashe, are you listening to me?”

“What did you say, pal?”