Witness (19 page)

“I lied to Mattie,” Carol said. “She asked me once, when Allen was just a baby, if he was your child. Yours and Ashe's.”

“You never told me that she suspected Allen wasn't yours and Daddy's.”

“I lied to her. I convinced her that her suspicions were wrong. She never questioned me again.”

“If she'd known, she would have told Ashe.”

“She does know, Deborah.” Carol kept her eyes downcast. “I told her the truth when I asked her for Ashe's telephone number in Atlanta.”

“Mother!”

Carol's chin quivered as she looked directly at her daughter. “She has promised not to tell Ashe, to give you time to tell him the truth.” Carol clutched Deborah's hand. “You must tell Ashe. You can't keep putting it off, not now the two of you are lovers.”

“Mother, I'm not sure telling Ashe would be the best thing to do, under the circumstances.”

“What circumstances?”

“Ashe and I have made each other no promises. He hasn't committed himself to me for any longer than his business here will take. Once I'm no longer in danger, he's going back to Atlanta.”

“I see.”

“If I tell him about Allen, I have no idea what he might do. He could tell Allen. He could demand joint custody. Or he could make a commitment to me because of Allen and not because he loves me.” Jumping up off the window seat, Deborah walked around the room. She stopped abruptly, then turned to face her mother. “I'm afraid to tell him. I'm afraid I'll lose him all over again.”

“Deborah, dear child, you musn't—”

“I know. I know. I'm not fooling myself. It's just that I want whatever time we have together to go on being as wonderful as it was tonight.”

“You must tell the man he has a son.” Carol shook her head. “You can't lie to Ashe if you love him.”

“I didn't say I loved him.”

“You didn't have to. I see it in your eyes. I hear it in your voice.”

“I can't tell him. Not yet.”

“I go back to the doctor for a checkup and more tests soon,” Carol said. “If you haven't told Ashe by then—”

“No, Mother, you musn't tell him.”

“Then you tell him. We should have told him long ago. Besides, if you don't tell him before he leaves Sheffield, Mattie will tell him.”

“But what if he tells Allen?”

Carol stood, walked across the room and laid her hand on Deborah's shoulder. “Ashe isn't going to do anything to hurt Allen. Don't you know him any better than that?”

“Give me some time, Mother. Please, just let me do this my way and in my own good time.”

“Don't wait too long. My heart tells me that you'll be sorry if you do.”

 

A
SHE CAME OUT
of the shower, dried off and stepped into a pair of clean briefs. He didn't know when he'd ever felt so good, so glad to be alive.

Deborah. Sweet, beautiful Deborah.

She was, in so many ways, the same innocent, loving girl she'd been eleven years ago; but then she was also a woman of strength and courage and incredible passion.

Whoever she was, part innocent girl, part bewitching woman, Deborah Vaughn was honest and trustworthy. She would never lie to him. Never!

He had tried to put Roarke's suspicions out of his mind, and for those magic hours he'd spent with Deborah he'd been able to do just that. But now he had to face them again.

There was no way Allen Vaughn could be his son. Deborah would have told him if she'd been pregnant. She'd have come running to him. She'd been so crazy in love with him that she would have…

She would have come to him after he'd rejected her, after he'd told her that he didn't love her the way she loved him?

Allen isn't your son, he told himself. He looks just like Deborah. He's her brother, dammit. Her brother!

Besides, Mama Mattie would have told him if she'd thought Allen was his child.

Don't do this to yourself! Don't look for similarities between you and Allen. Don't let Roarke's outrageous suspicions spoil what you and Deborah have found together this time.

Miss Carol never would have dared you to come back to Sheffield and face the past if Allen was your son.

Ashe dressed hurriedly, then rushed downstairs, eager to see
Deborah again. He would not look at Allen Vaughn and search for a truth that didn't exist. He trusted Deborah. His heart told him she wouldn't lie to him. And just this once, he intended to listen to his heart.

T
HE TRIAL HAD
lasted eight days, everyone saying the case was pretty well cut and dried since the prosecution had a reliable eyewitness to the murder. After three and a half hours of deliberation, the jury had rendered a guilty verdict, surprising no one. Five days later, the judge had sentenced Lon Sparks to life in prison, and Deborah Vaughn had been free from threats and harassment for nearly two weeks.

Ashe had been waiting for Buck Stansell to strike, but nothing had happened, not even a wrong-number telephone call. He'd thought about paying Buck a visit, but decided against it. Why take a chance on stirring a hornet's nest? He had talked to his cousin Lee Roy, who'd said little, except that
people
weren't overly concerned with an insignificant guy like Lon Sparks, that the man wasn't worth enough to cause trouble over.

Roarke had suggested it might be time to think about returning to Atlanta, but Ashe kept putting him off. How could he take a chance on leaving Deborah undefended? She'd come to mean far more to him than she should. He had allowed himself to become too involved with her, with Allen and Miss Carol. This was a job, but not like any other. These were people he cared about, a family he'd started thinking of as his.

Maybe he had reached the age when he needed to settle down, to start considering marriage and children. He wasn't sure. He and Deborah were attracted to each other, always had been, although he'd fought that attraction when they'd been younger. Maybe somewhere deep down inside him, he'd always thought he wasn't quite good enough for Deborah. Not
just because her parents were wealthy and socially prominent and he'd come from white-trash hoodlums, but because he'd never been innocent or pure or good, and Deborah had been all those things. Even now, at twenty-eight, she still personified everything right with the world.

And he still wasn't good enough for her.

Ashe paced the floor in the doctor's office, waiting for Deborah and Miss Carol. He'd told himself that he would hang around Sheffield until they knew the test results. It was as good an excuse as any. This way he could justify his reluctance to leave, to Deborah and her family, as well as to himself.

Sitting, he flipped through several magazines, then stood and paced the floor again. He glanced at the wall clock, checking it against his watch. Nearly an hour. Dammit, how long did it take for a doctor to explain test results?

Just when his patience came to an end, Deborah and Miss Carol emerged from the office, solemn expressions on their faces. Deborah's arm draped her mother's slender shoulders.

“We're ready to go home, now, Ashe,” Deborah said.

Ashe didn't ask any questions, didn't say a word, simply nodded his head and led the ladies outside and assisted them into the car.

Miss Carol, sitting in the front seat beside Ashe, reached over and touched his arm lightly. “Can you stay awhile longer?”

“Yes, ma'am, of course I can stay.” He pulled the car out of the parking lot and onto the main thoroughfare.

“Deborah and Allen will need you,” Carol said.

“Mother, please don't—” Deborah said.

“Hush up.” Carol swatted her hand in the air. “Ashe is like family and I want him here. Even if you think you can handle this alone, I believe you'll need a strong man at your side.”

“I take it the tests results weren't good.” Ashe kept his gaze fixed straight ahead.

“The cancer has returned and Dr. Mason has scheduled surgery for the first of next week.” Carol opened her purse, took
out a lace handkerchief and wiped her hands, then returned the handkerchief to her purse.

“I'm sorry, Miss Carol.”

“No need for all this gloom and doom.” Carol sat up straight, squaring her shoulders as if preparing herself to do battle. “I licked this thing once and I can do it again. But I'll rest easier knowing Deborah won't be alone, that you'll be at her side.”

“You hired me, Miss Carol. I won't leave Sheffield as long as you need me.”

“Thank you, Ashe.” She patted him on the arm.

Little more was said on the short drive home. Indeed, what more could be said? Ashe wondered. Life certainly didn't play fair. Not when it heaped more trouble on one family than it could bear. But then, Deborah and Miss Carol were both strong women. They were fighters despite their genteel backgrounds.

Sirens blasted, shrill and menacing in the quite, lazy atmosphere of Sheffield's main street.

“Oh, my.” Carol shivered. “I do so hate the sound of those things. Sirens always mean bad news.”

“Look at that black smoke,” Deborah said. “It's coming straight up Montgomery Avenue.”

“My goodness, you don't suppose it's one of our neighbors' homes, do you?” Miss Carol leaned toward the windshield, her gaze riveted to the billowing smoke filling the blue sky.

The closer they came to home, the darker the smoke, the louder the sirens. A sudden sick feeling hit Ashe in the pit of his stomach. Allen was still at school. Roarke would be with him. Ashe blew out a breath.

Before they reached the Vaughn driveway, they saw one fire truck parked at the back of the house and another just turning in behind it. “It's our garage!” Deborah gripped the back of her mother's seat. “It's on fire!”

Ashe pulled the Cadillac up to the curb, stopped and jumped out. “Stay here.” He ran across the front yard.

“Stay in the car, Mother. I'll come back and check on you in just a few minutes.”

“But Ashe said for both of us to stay here,” Carol said.

“Ashe isn't my boss.”

Deborah jumped out of the car, catching up with Ashe at the back corner of the house, where he stood watching the firemen do their job. He grabbed her around the waist, pulling her to his side.

“It's just the garage,” he said. “And it looks like they're getting the fire under control.”

“Mazie? Where's Mazie? Is she all right?”

“She's at the grocery store. Remember? This is Wednesday morning, her midweek trip to pick up supplies.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

Deborah leaned against Ashe, watching while the firefighters extinguished the blaze, leaving a charred three-car garage, a blackened Mercedes, a soot-covered BMW and swirling clouds of gray smoke spiraling heavenward.

Fire Chief Greg Wilbanks nodded, removed his hat and wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Damn curious blaze. Whoever set this baby didn't try to hide the fact that it was out-and-out arson.”

“What do you mean?” Deborah asked.

“The place was doused with gasoline and torched. We found two empty gas cans at the back of the house.” Greg looked at Ashe. “I've called Chief Burton. I'd say your job isn't finished, Mr. McLaughlin. Looks like somebody's out to get himself a little revenge.”

“Ashe?” Deborah grabbed his arm. “Do you think that—”

“I don't think anything,” he said.

“But Greg said—”

“I know what he said. There's no point jumping to conclusions. We'll take every precaution, but we're not going to panic.” He grasped her by the shoulders. “Go tell Miss Carol that everything's all right. The fire's out. Tell her the truth, but
play it down. There's no need to worry her any more than can be helped.”

“You're right.” She slipped her arms around Ashe's waist and sighed when he hugged her close. Pulling away, she tried to smile. “I'll take Mother in the front door. There's no need for her to see this until later.”

“Don't read anything into this,” Ashe said. “Not yet. Let me handle things. I'm not going anywhere, not until you're completely out of danger. Trust me, honey.”

“I do trust you. With all my heart.”

Ashe watched her walk away, a tight knot forming in the pit of his stomach. She expected a great deal from him. Was it more than he could deliver? Would he let her down again, or could he be the man Deborah wanted and needed?

Ashe approached Greg Wilbanks. “When Chief Burton arrives, tell him I'd prefer he not bother Miss Carol or Deborah. I'll talk to him. And once you've filed your report on this fire, I'd like a copy.”

“As Miss Carol's representative?” Greg asked.

“Yeah, as Miss Carol's representative.”

“No problem.”

Going in the back door, Ashe met Carol and Deborah in the hallway.

“I'm taking Mother upstairs to rest,” Deborah told him, then turned to assist her mother. “I'll fix you some tea and bring it up in just a little while.”

“Tea would be nice.” Halting on the landing, Carol grabbed Deborah's arm. “Let him do whatever he has to do to put an end to this.”

“Mother, what are saying?”

“I'm saying that Ashe knows how to deal with those people. However he chooses to handle the situation, I don't want you trying to persuade him otherwise.”

“Ashe is not a hired assassin, Mother. He's not going to kill Buck Stansell.”

“You two go on,” Ashe called out from the downstairs hallway. “I'll fix you both some tea and bring it up.”

“Thank you,” Miss Carol smiled.

“Mother!” Deborah glared at Carol. “Do you honestly think Ashe would murder someone?”

“Not murder, my dear, kill. There is a difference. And Ashe McLaughlin has been trained to kill. There is no doubt in my mind that he would kill anyone who'd harm you.”

“I don't want him to have to kill to protect me, but… Perhaps Buck Stansell wasn't responsible for the fire. Besides, no one was harmed.”

Downstairs, Ashe put on the water to boil, set two cups on a tray and laid two Earl Grey tea bags in each cup. Lifting the phone out of the wall cradle, he dialed Roarke's cellular phone number.

“Roarke, here.”

“Keep a very close eye on Allen.”

“What's wrong?”

“We've had a fire here,” Ashe said. “Someone doused the garage with gasoline. They left the cans for the firemen to find.”

“Looks like we'll be hanging around Sheffield for a while longer than we thought.”

“Yeah. I'd say Buck Stansell is back to playing games with us. The question is just how deadly will his games become.”

 

D
EBORAH TOOK CARE
of her morning phone calls, dictated several letters and closed a deal on the old Hartman farm before her ten-thirty coffee break. She had wanted to stay home with her mother, whom she worried would fret the day away there at the house with only Mazie, the eternal pessimist, as company. But her mother had insisted she didn't need a baby-sitter, so Deborah had found an alternative plan.

She glanced in the outer office where Ashe sat with his long legs stretched out, his big feet propped up on a desk in
the corner, situated where he could see directly into Deborah's office. He had begun work on his second crossword puzzle book since his arrival in Sheffield.

Deborah dialed the telephone, hoping her plan for keeping her mother occupied would work out.

“Hello.”

“Mama Mattie,” Deborah said. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“What is it, child?”

“Mother's at the house all alone with Mazie, and I'm afraid, after the doctor's news and the fire in the garage yesterday, she'll spend the day fretting.”

“You need say no more. I've just baked an apple cinnamon coffee cake. I'll take it over and spend the rest of the day with Miss Carol.”

“Thanks so much, Mama Mattie.”

“It'll be my pleasure.” Deborah hung up the phone and glanced back at Ashe, who looked up from his puzzle and grinned at her. She lifted her hand to her mouth in a drinking gesture. Ashe nodded agreement. They met at the coffeepot, one of three set up on a table in a small, open room directly across from the office rest room.

“Good morning.” Holding a mug of hot coffee in one hand, he cupped her hip with the other and brought her close enough for him to kiss.

She returned the kiss, then pulled away, turning to pour her coffee. “Get your hand off my hip, Mr. McLaughlin. This is an office, not a bedroom,” she teased.

“I'm glad you told me,” he said. “I was planning on backing you up against the wall over there and ravishing you. But since this is an office, I don't suppose ravishing the boss lady is allowed.”

“Most definitely not.”

“You've had a busy morning.”

“I've accomplished a great deal.”

They carried their coffee back into the outer office, pausing just outside Deborah's private domain.

“Ashe, have there been any threatening phone calls or a letter today?” she asked.

“No, honey, not a one.”

“I'd thought that since…well since the fire yesterday, the harassment might start all over again.”

He nudged her through her office door. “There may not be a connection. But…” He didn't want to alarm her.

“But what?”

“If Buck Stansell was behind yesterday's fire, I'd say phone calls and letters are a thing of the past. Simple harassment will no longer be the order of the day.”

“I see. You're saying things will get nasty.”

“They could.”

“Do you think Allen and Mother are in danger?”

“Possibly.”

“Oh, Ashe.” The coffee sloshed over the edge of her mug. Quickly holding the mug outward so the liquid could run down the sides, she averted being burned.

Just as Ashe started to close the door to Deborah's office, a string of loud, piercing blasts sounded. The front office windows shattered. Glass blew across the room. The office staff screamed and dived for cover under their desks. Ashe knocked Deborah to the floor, covering her body with his as he drew his gun.

“Crawl to the left,” he told her.

She obeyed silently, not questioning Ashe's order for one minute. Standing, he lifted her to her knees and sat her in the corner behind a row of metal file cabinets.