Dark Hearts (9 page)

“I'm helping my brother investigate the recent murders, and a name came up that we wanted to ask you about,” Sam said.

Wilma frowned. “Ain't none of my people having anything to do with all that!” she snapped.

“No, ma'am. That's not what I meant. We were told your family once took in a foster child named Donny Collins.”

Sam saw from the corner of his eye that Wynona rocked back and forth on the railing, and threw back her head like she was riding a man instead, but he refused to look directly at her.

Wilma nodded. “Yeah, that was Mam and Pap's doin'. I was still living at home, but I'd already graduated. Back then they got thirty dollars a month extra to keep him. Helped out in the hard times.”

Sam wondered how much of that thirty dollars ever went to Donny Collins' welfare, then let it go.

“So where is he now?”

Wilma threw up her hands. “Oh, Lord, I have no idea. They let him stay in our house out of the goodness of their hearts for six months after he turned eighteen so he could graduate. Pap said it was the godly thing to do.”

“So he was living with your family when he graduated?”

Wilma nodded. “Yes, that he was.”

“So when did you see him last?” Sam asked.

Wilma frowned as she thought back.

“I guess the last sight we had of him was after he walked across the graduation stage. We carried his suitcase to town for him when we took him to the commencement ceremony. He told us he was going to catch a bus later that night and go to California. I expect he's out there somewhere.”

“Do you have his social security number anywhere?”

Wilma frowned.

“Mam and Pap would have had that information, but they're long dead. I don't think I'd be able to find it anywhere now,” she said. “But the child welfare people would know. They came out twice a year to check on him and us. They would have all that.”

Sam nodded.

The moment was anticlimactic. He still didn't know what happened to Donny Collins, but if he
had
gone missing, he now knew why no one would have looked for him. He stood there for a moment, trying to imagine a young kid starting out on his own without a backup plan. They were going to have to run a trace on him now to see if he was alive anywhere.

Wynona stopped rocking. “It's real chilly today. Y'all want to come inside and have a cup of coffee? It would warm you right up,” she said.

Then she ran the tip of her tongue along the inside of her lower lip and leaned forward just enough for her cleavage to show. It did nothing but aggravate his impatience with fools.

“Thank you for your help, Ms. Harper. Wynona, I appreciate the offer, but I'll have to pass,” he said, then touched the brim of his hat in a gesture of courtesy and went back to his car. The dog woofed as he passed but still didn't bother getting up, and then Sam drove away.

He waited to call Trey until he got back on the blacktop.

Trey answered quickly. “Yeah, Sam...what did you find out?”

“The Harpers did foster Donny Collins. They even let him stay six months past his eighteenth birthday, ‘out of the goodness of their hearts, so he could graduate,' Wilma said.”

“I can only imagine,” Trey said. “So where did he go after that?”

“She doesn't know. Assumed he went to California because that was his plan. He took his suitcase to graduation, they watched him walk across the stage and that was the last they saw of him.”

“I need to do some more checking,” Trey said.

“I asked about a social security number, but she doesn't have it. She said child welfare did regular visitations on him twice a year until he aged out, so should have it on file.”

“Good job. That I
can
check,” Trey said. “It's getting late. Get some food. Get some rest. If I find out anything more, I'll let you know. Otherwise, see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay, but I'm going to see Trina before I go back to the motel.”

“The guard at her door has changed. The guy's name is Cain Embry.”

“Have you talked to her doctor today?”

“No. He hadn't made rounds when I was there. Maybe you'll catch him.”

“If I do, I'll text you with an update.”

“Thanks,” Trey said and disconnected.

Sam laid his phone in the console, and then focused on the road stretching out before him. It was strange how normal this seemed, driving on this road as if he'd only been away for a little while. A wave of guilt washed over him, followed by such overwhelming sadness that it was all he could do to keep driving. His voice broke as he said, “I'm so sorry, Mama.”

He could almost hear her saying,
Don't be silly, Sam. There's nothing to be sorry for.

He'd seen a lot of the ugly side of life, but never imagined it infiltrating his family like this. And Lainey. He'd never meant to, but he had hurt her badly.

He glanced down at the phone and thought about calling her, but he still felt too raw from this morning. Shit. He'd chosen being alone. She hadn't. He'd started out doing it because it was necessary, and it had become who he was. He'd identified himself as a soldier who had gone to war and come home a monster, both inwardly and outwardly. But that was all based on perception—
his
perception. Seeing Lainey today had made him realize how wrong he'd been—about almost everything. She didn't deserve what had happened to her, but then neither had he, and yet it happened. She'd come through with the mind-set of a survivor, and he'd turned into a victim. He wanted what she had. Guts to face the truth.

And so he drove back into Mystic with something of a plan. Make peace with Lainey. See if there was anything left between them. Find out who killed his mom. But not until after he went to see Trina.

* * *

Trey finally got the call back from Sheriff Osmond and was relaying the new information.

“Yes...like I said, Sam found a letter from Mom referring to a dream that wasn't in the journals she gave me. It had to do with seeing a body in a deep hole. She thought it was a mine shaft.”

“Isn't there a Colquitt Mining site out by where they had that wreck?” Sheriff Osmond asked.

“You're thinking the same thing I thought,” Trey said. “Yes, I checked. It closed in 1978, and the wreck happened in 1980, so if someone did drop a body down the shaft, it's very unlikely it would be found.”

“I'll see if I need a search warrant to get on that property.”

“Good. Let me know, okay?” Trey added.

“Of course.”

“Hey, Trey, one last thing. If we assume a murder was committed, how on earth did four kids become witnesses?” Sheriff Osmond asked.

“I know part of that answer from reading Mom's journals. There was a place off the west highway that was a party spot for teenagers. Whether it was the old mine or not, I couldn't say. That could explain why they were there, but it still doesn't tell us who else they saw. I have one student from the 1980 graduating class who I haven't located. I got some new information today that I need to follow up on. I'll let you know what I find.”

“All right, Trey. Thanks for the info.”

“No problem,” he said and disconnected.

He looked up at the clock. It was almost 7:00 p.m., and he'd been up since five. It was time to go home.

He went to make sure the night dispatcher was okay, and that officers Carl and Lonnie Doyle were on duty.

“Hey, Dwight, how goes it?” he asked as he stepped into the dispatch center.

“It's all good, Chief. The Doyle brothers are on duty. Carl's out on a disturbing-the-peace call, and Lonnie is locking up a drunk.”

“I'm out of here, then,” Trey said. “Call if you need me.”

“Will do, and have a good evening, Chief.”

“Here's hoping it's a calm one, as well,” Trey said, and then walked out the back door and headed home.

* * *

Lainey was in the kitchen making potato soup. There was a pan of corn bread baking in the oven, and she'd already fed and watered Dandy. The house was locked up for the night, and she was taking comfort in the warmth and the fact that the food she was making not only looked good but smelled good, as well.

She was chopping up the last vegetables to put in the soup when her doorbell rang. Frowning, she wiped off her hands and headed through the house, wondering if it was Larry coming to pay her for what he'd done to her fence.

She turned on the porch light, then opened the door and saw Sam on the doorstep with a coffee mug in one hand and a half gallon of ice cream in the other. She sighed.

His expression said it all. Regret, remorse and a great big “please open the door.”

She thought about shutting him out but knew it wouldn't help. He would be back doing whatever it was he thought he needed to do, and he wouldn't quit, so she might as well get this over with. She unlocked the storm door and let him in.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as she shut the door behind him.

He handed her the new coffee mug. “For the one you broke.” Then he handed her the ice cream. “For auld lang syne?”

“It's strawberry,” she said.

“Is that not your favorite anymore?” he asked.

She sighed. “Yes, it's still my favorite.”

“But I'm not,” Sam said.

She frowned, then went to the kitchen. He followed, watching as she put the ice cream in the freezer and the mug in the cabinet.

“Something smells good,” he said.

“Corn bread,” she said, and picked up the cutting board, using the paring knife to slide the vegetables into the pot.

“What's that you're making?”

She turned around with the knife still in her hand. “Are you angling for an invitation to supper?”

“Not if you're going to use that on me,” he said, pointing at the knife.

She rolled her eyes and laid it aside as she stirred the soup, and then turned down the fire a bit.

“Why are you really here?” she asked.

Sam took off his hat and set it aside.

“I need to know if there's enough of me left in your heart to love again.”

The question was a punch to the gut. She was afraid to hope. Afraid to want.

“What's changed between us since this morning? You remember this morning? When you told me you were too broken to be with me?”

“It was what you said about me thinking of myself as a victim. And then I found a letter from my mom.”

It was the break in his voice that made her relent.

“A letter to you?”

“Yes. It was in my old room.”

Lainey leaned against the counter and folded her arms across her chest. She got the significance of his admission.

“You went home,” she said.

“May I sit?” he asked.

She waved her arm toward the kitchen table.

He took off his coat and hung it on the back of a chair, and then sat down. She didn't think he was going to answer her, but he finally did.

“Yes, I went back to the house. It didn't feel like home.”

Quick tears blurred the sight of him. “Because Betsy wasn't there,” she said.

He nodded. “I waited too long.”

It was the total devastation in his voice that broke her. She crossed the room, sat down in his lap and hugged him.

“I'm sorry,” she said.

Lainey's heart hurt for him. He was so still. He wasn't crying. He just wrapped his arms around her and laid his head in the curve of her neck.

“You were my home, too, Lainey. Did I wait too long for you?”

Eight

L
ainey looked over at the bubbling pot of soup on the stove, then at the familiarity of the house. It was where she'd grown up, but it hadn't felt like home since her mother's death.

She knew the same loneliness she'd heard in his voice.

“I don't know, Sam. What do you want me to say?”

He raised his head, needing to see her face.

“That you are willing to give me another chance.”

“I never stopped wanting that or I would have married someone else. I just gave up hope,” she said. “So if you want another chance, how do you see us now?”

“On new ground. We have history, but we're both different people.”

“That's for sure,” she said, and unconsciously splayed a hand across her chest.

He grabbed her hand and held it to his heart.

“Don't do that! Not around me. Not ever again. I don't give a shit about that. I'm just so damn grateful you're alive to be pissed off at me.”

“I need to stir the soup,” she said and got up.

He watched her moving about the kitchen with the ease of a woman who knows her place in the world. But she still hadn't answered him.

“You want to stay for supper?” she asked.

And just like that, his tension eased.

“I thought you'd never ask.”

She smiled, and when she did, Sam saw the girl he remembered. In that moment she was so beautiful it took his breath away.

“Would you like to set the table for me?” she asked.

“Yes, I would,” he said.

She pointed out where plates and bowls were, the drawer where the flatware was kept and turned him loose so she could return to the meal in progress.

A few minutes later she took the corn bread from the oven and set it on the back of the stove to stay warm, then she checked the vegetables. They were done to perfection, and the broth they had cooked in was condensed enough that it was time to add the milk and butter.

She added whole milk and a half stick of butter to the pan and stirred until the milk was hot and the butter melted, then she tasted it once, added a little more salt and turned off the heat.

“It's done,” she said, and then looked back at the table.

If she'd been alone, she would have carried a plate and bowl to the stove and served herself from there, but since he'd already set the table so nicely, she thought maybe she should carry the soup and corn bread to the table. And while she was thinking it, Sam picked up their plates and bowls and carried them both to the stove. She grinned.

“What?” he asked.

“I almost got all proper and took the food to the table. You reminded me it's just us.”

Sam's eyes widened. He set down the plates, pulled her into his arms without a word and just held her.

Lainey hesitated, then wrapped her arms around his waist. It had been a very long time since anyone had held her. That it was Sam made it even better.

“What is this all about?” she asked.

“You said it's just us. There hasn't been an
us
for a very long time. I liked it.”

She didn't realize she'd said that. She sighed. In her heart, she'd already welcomed him back.

“I guess you're right,” she said.

“It's not too late, is it, Lainey.”

He hadn't asked a question. He'd stated a fact, and when she didn't deny it, he was overcome with both joy and relief. It had been a long time coming, but he'd finally made it home.

“No, it's not too late, Sam.”

He picked her up in his arms and swung her off her feet. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

She laughed. “Corn bread's getting cold. Let's eat.”

He hated to put her down, but he wasn't going to push anything. He set her back on her feet, then picked up a plate and bowl and held them out to be filled. After she fixed some food for herself, they carried their meals to the table.

As they began to eat, the window behind where Sam was sitting suddenly rattled.

Lainey frowned. “Sounds like the wind is rising. The weatherman said it might rain tonight.”

No sooner had she said it than wind-driven rain splattered against the panes.

“Good night for soup,” she said.

“It's a good night for lots of things,” Sam added, and then took a big bite. “This is so good. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Well, for starters, feeding me and forgiving me.”

“I'm happy to oblige. I'm also supposed to be gaining weight, so pass the butter. I know there's a lot in the soup, but this corn bread is begging for some, too.”

He pushed the butter dish toward her and watched her slather butter on the corn bread, but the reference to her too-thin body had brought him back to her reality.

They talked about small things as they ate—about how she'd gotten into online teaching and how he'd stumbled into the business of private investigation. It continued to rain all through the meal and while they were cleaning up the kitchen.

It was almost ten o'clock by the time Sam began getting ready to leave.

Lainey leaned against him, tired, but so content at this moment that she felt as if she was living a dream.

“Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?”

She leaned back in his arms. “Is this real? Are you really here, or am I still dreaming?”

He cupped her face and leaned forward. There was a moment when he paused, his lips only a breath away from hers. When he made contact, it was like lighting a match to dry tinder.

Lainey had been without him too long. She gasped as his mouth touched her lips, then she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He pulled her closer as he deepened the kiss, and somewhere between her gasp and his moan, his ten-year absence was gone.

In Sam's mind he was already naked and getting ready to settle between her legs when he felt her tense. It was the cold-water dunk he needed to remember he was on a trial basis here. The last thing he wanted was to mess this up again. It was with extreme effort that he backed off from the kiss.

“God, you feel good in my arms. I almost forgot myself there.”

Lainey was reeling, trying to come down from where he'd taken her, and he was talking about forgetting. She didn't want him to forget anything—not ever again.

“That's because we're still us,” she said.

He brushed a thumb across her swollen lower lip. “Can I come see you again tomorrow?”

She frowned. He was still planning on leaving?

“Would you like to go to Cutter's Steakhouse for dinner tomorrow evening?” he added.

She nodded.

“Can I call or text you whenever I want?” he asked.

“Give me your phone,” Lainey said, and when he handed it over, she added herself to his contact list, then got her phone and put him in hers.

“Does this mean we're a thing?” Sam asked.

She was still trying to reconcile his sudden withdrawal. Did it have to do with some hang-up of his, or was it her? He'd already seen her naked. Was he turned off by how she looked? She didn't understand what was going on.

“I guess so,” she said.

He paused, then cupped the side of her face.

“I won't lie. I want to make love to you right now so much I hurt, but that's not happening until you feel safe with me, and you won't know that until we've spent more time together, okay?”

“I feel safe with you now,” she said and made no apology for saying how she felt, even if it did sound as if she was begging.

“That's because nothing has triggered an episode. I haven't been pushed or felt the need to push back,” he said, and then brushed his mouth across her lips.

She sighed and he read that as uncertainty.

“So I guess I'd better be leaving.”

“We never did eat that ice cream,” she said.

He was at the front door by then, but he looked back and saw the want in her eyes.

“Lainey?”

“What?”

“Love you.”

There was a good six feet between them. She hadn't heard that vow in over ten years, and he was getting ready to walk out the door? Oh, hell no!

“Damn it, Sam!”

He blinked. “What? What did I do?”

“I waited for you for ten years. When you came back, you didn't come back for me. You came back because your mother was murdered. We're back together now by accident, and I keep thinking to myself that it still might be too late. So don't you dare walk out on me. You can be all proper and protective and in charge, and whatever the hell else you feel like being, but tomorrow. Right now you need to take me to my bedroom, where we will get naked and make love until the sun comes up.”

His eyes widened, and then he locked the door behind him and took off his coat. He tossed his Stetson on the sofa and picked her up in his arms and started toward the back of the house.

The hall was in shadow. Her bedroom was dark. But he could see where he was going by the glow of the security light at the far end of the yard as it slipped through the blinds.

He set her on her feet and within seconds had her naked. Without giving her time to think about what was happening, he backed her up to a wall and slid a hand between her legs.

His name was a sigh upon her lips. She grabbed on to his shoulders to steady herself, and within moments her legs were shaking, her heart was pounding and she felt herself coming undone. It had been too long; she'd been without him for so many years. There was no filter on her senses. No control button to slow anything down. A rush of heat rolled through her, spiraling downward to what he was doing with his hands.

She moaned.

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Come for me, baby.”

And she did, in an explosion of sensations so strong she would have gone to her knees if he hadn't held her upright. She was still shaking when he picked her up and carried her to the bed.

She watched from the shadows as he slipped out of his clothes. She saw the size of his erection and shuddered as lust crawled through her belly. She wanted that. She wanted
him
.

He paused and pulled a condom out of his wallet. She watched as he rolled it up his penis, and then he crawled onto the bed and straddled her legs without touching her.

When she reached for him, he stopped her.

“All in good time,” he whispered.

She sighed. “Make love to me. I want to feel you inside me. Let me give you pleasure. Let me love you, Sam.”

He parted her legs, and then settled between them. “You're so fragile I'm afraid I'm going to hurt you,” he whispered.

“I was hurt when you didn't come home. I need this from you. You need this from me. It will heal us, Sam. Make love to me now.”

She was warm and wet when he took her, but it was caution that made him pause, allowing her to adjust to his size as he kissed her. Her hands were locked behind his neck, her legs around his waist, pulling him deep, and he began to move.

The wind had settled, but the rain was still falling, peppering the roof and the windows as Sam made love to his girl, stroking her body, making promises to her of how he was going to make her feel. She rocked beneath him in perfect rhythm, a reminder that she was made for his love.

Time ceased. There was nothing but Sam and Lainey and the passion building between them. When he began to feel the contraction and tremors within her, he knew she was racing toward climax. He began stroking harder, pushing deeper, getting his own high from the sound of her satisfaction. As she began to breathe faster, he drove harder. When every muscle in her body tightened and he heard her moan, he let go and rode his own climax all the way to the end in a rocky crash and burn.

Spent and shaking, he rolled onto his back with her still in his arms. Now she was lying on top of him and he was still inside her, unwilling to let go of their connection. Her head was tucked beneath his chin, and he could feel the thunder of her heart against his chest. As he slowly stroked his hand up and down her back, he was painfully aware of the bones he could feel beneath her skin.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked.

“Lord, no! If I could, I would be purring,” she mumbled.

He smiled, satisfied that she was still in his arms. They lay without moving until he was hard inside her again. And this time he took her deep and fast through a climax that left them shaking.

She fell asleep in his arms as the rainstorm passed. He didn't mean to sleep, but he did, dreaming of bombs about to explode, too close for him to get to safety.

* * *

He was mumbling in his sleep when Lainey woke. It was instinct that made her move off him as quickly and quietly as she could. She was wrapped up in a robe and sitting in her rocker when he cried out, then flew out of bed with both hands curled into fists.

She reached over and turned on a lamp.

“You were dreaming,” she said calmly.

Sam's heart was hammering. The fact that she wasn't in bed beside him scared the shit out of him. Had he hurt her? Was she afraid of him now?

“Did I hurt you?”

“Of course not,” she said. “I heard you talking in your sleep, so I just got out of bed.”

“Jesus,” he whispered, then sat down on the side of the bed and shoved his hands through his hair.

She moved from the rocker to the bed and curled herself around him. “It's okay. You're okay.
We're
okay.”

He was still trying to wrap his head around being here with her and not under fire. Then she tossed her robe aside and crawled back under the covers with him.

“Lie down with me, Sam. It's cold.”

He eased back onto the pillow and she rolled toward him, pillowing her head on his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his chest.

“You're so warm,” she said softly.

Sam caught her hand and held it like a lifeline as she settled against him and fell back asleep.

He lay without moving, absorbing the sweetness of being beneath the covers with the only woman he'd ever loved. She'd seen his body and not been disgusted, and now she knew that he never really slept. Awake, Sam Jakes lived in this world, but when he closed his eyes, the devil took him back to the desert. He hadn't realized how tired he was from fighting battles day and night until a little bit of heaven brought him home.