Audrey's Promise (17 page)

She was in a car accident that killed someone. That was the news any politician would try to keep covered up. The kind of news that kept many politicians from winning elections. Or even trying.

But this wasn’t enough. There had to something else to this. A reason to warrant a brick through a window, even after all this time. Why people treated her so unwelcomingly, especially her brother.

He leaned forward and flipped more pages, carefully surveying every article. The next day’s paper made his heart jump.

More Investigation Into Mackineer QB Death

Police continue their rigorous ongoing investigation into the death of Jackson Davis, who was involved in a car accident on Friday night with girlfriend, Audrey Biddinger. Officials have determined the vehicle was speeding at the time of the accident, although it is unclear what caused them to lose control. Police believe Audrey Biddinger was driving at the time of the accident, although that has not been confirmed. Audrey Biddinger is in fair condition at Tyler Memorial Hospital, upgraded from critical, but has been unable to answer police questions.

Quarterback Jackson Davis suffered a shoulder injury during Friday night’s playoff game with Rockwall High School, which led police to believe he was not driving the vehicle at the time of the accident, combined with forensic evidence. Davis was pronounced dead at the scene on Friday night. A coroner’s report scheduled for Tuesday will determine the exact cause of death.

Davis’ memorial will be held on Friday at 5 p.m. at Mackineer Funeral Home.

Bingo. Not only did someone die, but she was driving. He could almost hear the nail in the coffin of Audrey Allen’s political career.

As he read more and more throughout the rest of the week’s papers, tidbits here and there arose of more details surrounding the accident. But the most important article crushing any doubts were on that Saturday’s column.

No Justice for QB Jackson Davis

Jackson Davis, beloved quarterback of the Mackineer Eagles, was laid to rest yesterday, surrounded by his family, friends, and teammates. However, justice for his stolen life will not be delivered now that police announced his death as an accident and will not press charges against Audrey Biddinger for manslaughter.

Police suspect Biddinger was driving the vehicle at the time of the accident, although conclusive evidence has not been determined. Police have described Biddinger’s interviews as uncooperative, at best. Both families involved in this tragedy have refused to comment to the media.

Although friends described Davis as the quintessential All-American boy destined for glory and larger-than-life aspirations, no one understood his attraction to girlfriend Audrey Biddinger, characterized as an outsider, combative, and suspected of at least half a dozen pranks on school property.

The Mackineer football team is scheduled to play Temple High School for the state championships tonight, and players will wear Davis’ jersey number taped to their helmets in tribute of their lost leader.

“That whole mess was a mountain of shame.”

The librarian’s dejected voice carried softly over his shoulder. He turned and saw her glancing at the album, sympathy filling every wrinkle and carefully placed hair.

“You remember this story?”

“Of course. Biggest thing to happen around here since the New London school explosion in the 1930’s.”

“Wow.”

“I knew you were lookin’ for this when you said ten years.”

“Then why’d you make me take the time to search?”

“’Cuz you boys need to learn how to look for things the right way.”

“You boys?”

“Reporters.”

Another one. The whole town has a serious aversion. Maybe something in the water.

“The first reporter there caused a whole lot of unnecessary ruckus and pain. All because he didn’t look hard enough for the right stuff, and only stopped at the surface.”

“Common practice around here, from what I’ve seen.”

Ms. Simon looked at him curiously. “You’re a peculiar one, Ethan. You seem to pay attention more than your brethren.”

My brethren?
“Have there been other reporters in here?”

“Not for a long time.”

The air whooshed out of his lungs, although he tried to hide his relief. Another journalist digging his claws into this story would have crushed him.

Ms. Simon took the seat beside him and moved forward a few pages in the album, carefully turning the preserved articles between her bony fingers.

“The rest of this story happened weeks after the accident. All starting with the loss of the State Championship game.” She stopped at the following Sunday’s front page headline:

Mackineer Eagles Lose State Championship to Tyler: 36 – 0

Underneath the headline was the entire front line of the football team pictured walking off the field with ripped pants and mud-covered jerseys. Their dismal faces portrayed all the physical and emotional anguish of a team unexpected of such defeat.

“A lot of dreams were crushed that day,” the librarian continued, almost solemnly. “When they lost that game, most of them lost their scholarship aspirations for college. Only a few even continued to university, while the coach resigned and moved away.”

“What about the rest of the players who didn’t go to university?”

“Some moved away, but most are still right here. Working the rigs or other jobs. Broke a lot of girls’ hearts too. Expecting to leave on parade floats with their boyfriends. But none more broken than that poor Audrey Biddinger.”

Ethan swiveled in his chair and crossed his arms. The recorder in his pocket burned against his jeans and he itched to bring it out and catch the rest of this for his article.

“How long was she in the hospital?”

“Several weeks. But that was only the beginning. That journalist painted her as the murderer of the town’s golden boy. And he hounded her and her family for months afterwards trying to prove it. Went after the Davises, too.”

“Is the journalist still around, so I can talk to him?”

“No, he died a few years back of liver disease. But by the time the girl had left the hospital, he’d turned the whole town against her. It was easy for people to blame her, since she was already so different than everyone.”

“How do you mean?”

“Audrey came here a lot. She loved to read. I remember putting back so many Renaissance era books and artist biographies after she came in. But of course, like most artists, she had a rebellious side. Never ran with the main crowd. In fact, the only people I ever saw her with were her brother and the Davis boy. Most folks didn’t approve of that matchup. Didn’t understand what he saw in her. But I suppose it was inevitable.”

“Opposites attract? Good ol’ boy and the town deviant?”

“Not at all. The three were inseparable throughout childhood, the two Biddingers and Davis. Spent so much time together and knew each other better than anyone, it was bound to grow into something more.”

“What did his parents think about her?”

Ms. Simon paused and stared at him. But she didn’t answer.

“Are they still here?” He pressed more.

“Don’t try digging up that stone. That family was traumatized enough. And I won’t be the one leading another prowling journalist to their front door.”

This woman really was a pistol, but for some reason Ethan liked her. Reminded him of a pushy grandmother set in her ways, but did everything out of love, even overzealous protective instincts. He watched as she pushed the book cart along, chin high and tough heels. Even though she refused to say more, Ethan couldn’t thank her enough for all of the information. Nor could his boss.

For the forty-five minutes he sat there, his boss had called at least six times. But he wasn’t going to pull the vibrating cell from his pocket and interrupt the granny from giving him more background on the dirt he needed. He’d buzz him back when he wasn’t around curious ears.

He flipped through more pages and found another photograph of Jackson’s grave, from the funeral no doubt. A black marble marker just below a large oak tree. More than likely he had to be buried in the graveyard they passed on the way here. Ethan glanced at his wristwatch, thinking a half mile trek down the road wouldn’t take him more than fifteen minutes. A picture of this kid’s grave would definitely get a response from Audrey, especially since her spine stiffened when they passed the cemetery. She tried to hide it, but Ethan sensed her fear.

The brick through the window set his nerves on edge. And that scorching kiss fried them even more. But Audrey was tougher than he originally thought. Tough, yet still wounded. And the fear she felt while passing the graveyard had to be the source of it all.

He’d started to read her emotions better than he could with anyone else. All she had to do was walk into a room and he could feel her, without looking up. Audrey was like a sweet magnet. But when he showed her the photo, her magnetism might morph into a vicious electrical storm. In the end, she’d be forced to tell the rest of the story and then try to persuade him not to publish it.

He’d heard similar pleading before from the county commissioner’s admin/mistress after she’d spilled the beans of his gambling problems and the banking information she kept hidden for him. Any red-blooded man could hardly deny her sultry advances after he’d met her at a bar and pushed a few buttons. It wasn’t hard fueling her already-flaming desires, and by the time they were finished, she’d spilled the beans on her boss without Ethan having to ask many questions.

He could see why the commissioner wouldn’t let that creative woman go, but he really didn’t have good taste in choosing confidential employees.

Audrey didn’t seem like the type to beg for his silence, but she definitely aroused him more than the commissioner’s admin. Even if he wasn’t shoveling for something on her, he certainly wanted to dig around in the covers with her.

Restrain yourself, man. Now’s not the time for fantasy.
Quite the opposite. This was where real life met the hard sting of regret.

After marking each article with a slip of paper, he took it back to Ms. Simon and asked for a copy of each. She reluctantly agreed.

“Ms. Simon, do you mind my asking who you plan to vote for in the upcoming runoff Senate election?”

Without looking up, she hit the “Start” button and answered. “I don’t believe that’s any of your business, young man. But I’ve always loved Renaissance art.”

She handed him the copies and adjusted her glasses, all trace of a smile gone. “Good luck, Ethan. Happy Thanksgiving.”

Shortly after Ethan had his precious copies in hand, he walked along the side of the road away from the library and toward the cemetery. The gravel crunched underneath his feet as the chill from the morning wind barely started to subside and let the air warm up. After he grabbed a snapshot of the headstone, he’d have to find the Davises’ address and try to speak with them. More than likely, they didn’t have that great an opinion of Audrey, if they were anything like the rest of this town.

That would probably be the last trumpet sounded for her campaign hopes. And the last time he’d ever feel those delicious lips against his or see those dark ocean eyes look at him with respect. He tripped over a stone, but kept walking.

Chapter Eighteen

The sun finally graced the air with its warmth when the clouds dissipated, but a slight chill nipped at Audrey’s face as she sat against the oak tree overlooking the pond.

Glimmers chased each other across the water’s surface as each rustle of wind blew more bright leaves from the branches and landed with soft ripples. Fresh woodsy scent drifted in the air and the only thing missing to finish Audrey’s perfect moment of peace was her sketchpad and pencil.

Ten years.
Ten years ago today Audrey’s life had changed, in more ways than one. The course that her life was on wasn’t meant to be, but she wished so many people’s dreams hadn’t been destroyed along with her mistake.

Jack deserved better. His life was meant to go somewhere, so much farther than her original modest plan of art school. She’d told him a hundred times that her eccentricities and outward thinking wasn’t good for him, but he wouldn’t listen. And before the end, it was hard to let him go. She’d loved him. Her first and only, to this day. He was the only one who truly understood her and didn’t judge her differences. Even before the accident, her own brother had started to distance himself from her.

Which inevitably led everyone to believe the worst. By the time she was able to leave the hospital, everyone had pointed fingers and condemning stares without ever listening. So she retreated to the only mindset she knew: not caring what they thought. No one else mattered but Jack. And since he no longer lived to see his dreams a reality, she’d make them happen for him. Granted, it was extremely hard to accomplish when she didn’t have her family’s support, but in the end it gave her the hard shove she needed to get the dreams in motion. Her depression would have burned out her struggling flame of life in her parent’s house in the tiny, small-minded town.

Now the Crisis Center was weeks away from reality and in a few days she could be a senator. Jack’s life could live on in spirit. She owed him that much.

“This is your hot date?”

The world froze as she jerked her head to the graveyard and saw Ethan standing just in front of Jack’s headstone. No arrogant smile, no judging look, just serious eyes and a frown. And his phone.

“What are you doing here?”

“I should ask the senate candidate the same question. But then again, I already know.”

Audrey pushed against the oak tree to get to her feet and pulled her jacket tight against her torso. The air was suddenly frigid.

Ethan glanced down at the headstone and his jaw clenched. Somehow he didn’t look happy to find the dirt Audrey had hoped he wouldn’t find. Instead, his forehead crinkled and he looked like he downed a shot of tequila. “Jackson
Allen
Davis.”

A lump climbed its way into Audrey’s throat and tears touched the edge of her eyes. She didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not to the one man she knew was nothing but trouble, yet couldn’t resist.