Dead Between the Lines (22 page)

“Yes. The other stuff I could keep hidden with my clothes, but that time he hit me in the face.”

“What happened Friday night?” I asked, intent on distracting her as much as I could while I looked for a way to escape.

“When I called him a sellout and said I’d make sure everyone in town and in the literary world knew exactly who and what he was, he grabbed me by the hair.” Xylia took a ragged breath. “And as he was dragging me toward the back room, I snagged a fence post. Then when he got me outside and tried to strangle me, I stabbed him in the chest.”

“That makes it self-defense.” I smiled reassuringly at her. “You won’t get in trouble for that. I’ll go with you to the police and help you explain. I’m sure Chief Kincaid will understand.”

“I still have bruises on my throat.” Xylia fingered the silk around her neck. “That’s why I’ve been wearing scarves this week.”

“See, you have proof,” I cajoled. “There’s no way you’ll have to go to jail.”

“Actually,” Xylia sighed, “Mr. Oberkircher said he wasn’t sure if the prosecutor would take a deal because she might think the bruises were from consensual sex. You know, because of how Lance portrayed me in the book.”

“Still.” I was pleading for my life and wasn’t giving up that easily. “No jury around here would convict you. At least one juror wouldn’t believe that anyone enjoyed that kind of sex.”

“I can’t go to trial.” Xylia bit her lip. “Everyone will find out the character in that book is me. I can’t have that happen.”

“But . . .” I stalled, gathering my strength to tackle her and knowing I’d most likely be stabbed in the process. “No one will care what you do in your private life. It’s okay to blow off a little steam.”

“That depends on what’s making the water boil.” Above her cute little upturned nose, Xylia’s eyes had turned into reptilian slits. “Now it’s time for me to tidy up one last loose end.”

Hell!
I shrank back from the slowly advancing blade. This had turned into my farewell party, and it looked as if I would be the balloon that got popped.

“That’s not necessary. I promise to keep quiet,” I pleaded while I desperately tried to gauge the best angle to spring at her. As I tensed my thigh muscles to leap, I heard a chorus of angels singing. Actually, it was the jingle of the sleigh bells above the front door, but it sounded like a heavenly choir to me.

Xylia swung her head toward the entrance, and I launched all of my not-inconsiderable weight at her. We both toppled to the floor, but she was stronger than she looked. She pushed me off, grabbed the box cutter that had flown from her hand, and crawled toward me, a furious expression on her face.

I scuttled backward, searching frantically for any kind of weapon to use to defend myself. My fingers closed around the shepherd’s-hook plant hanger in the display, and I swung it at Xylia’s head.

She ducked and kept coming. I wound up for a second try, but Xylia grunted and lunged at me. I pointed the shepherd’s hook at her, hoping she’d impale herself on the end, but before she could shish kebab herself, a pair of large masculine hands wrapped around her waist, lifted her up, and threw her to the side.

I stared, stunned, at the sight of Noah kicking the box cutter from Xylia’s grasp, then seizing her by both wrists and holding her captive. When had Noah gotten so strong and learned those kinds of Bruce Lee moves?

As I contemplated that question, another pair of hands scooped me up and into a warm embrace, holding me as if they’d never let me go. I lifted my head and gazed into the bright green eyes of . . . my father.

“Are you okay, Pumpkin?” he demanded, running his fingers over the small puncture wound on my throat.

“I’m fine. That’s only a scratch,” I assured him, vaguely aware of Noah talking on his cell to the police. I laid my cheek against my father’s chest and held on to him, feeling completely safe for the first time I could remember since he went to prison. “How did you get here?”

Dad had changed very little since the last time I’d seem him nearly thirteen years ago. Yes, he’d aged since he’d been away, but his tall, lean frame was still as erect as it had been the day they led him out of the courtroom. His auburn hair had a few strands of gray, and there were lines in his face that hadn’t been there before. But I could tell by the expression in his eyes that his genial personality remained the same.

“The warden decided to release me early so I could spend the weekend with my family.” His voice was muffled against my hair. “My lawyer dropped me off.”

“At Noah’s?” I was confused.

“No. Here.” Dad cupped my cheek. “Noah was just pulling up when I arrived.”

“Oh.” I had forgotten what it felt like to be held in a parent’s loving embrace, and the distraction of the experience made it hard to think. “Well, you two are certainly my white knights.”

“Always happy to ride to your rescue, sweetheart.” Dad chuckled. “But it looked as if you had things under control. Another second and that woman would have been a chick satay.” He frowned and finally blurted out the question that he must have been dying to ask from the beginning. “Why was she attacking you?”

While I explained what had been happening in Shadow Bend during the past week, the police arrived and took charge of Xylia.

Chief Kincaid exchanged affectionate greetings with my father. Then he had me relate the events of the past half hour, several times, until he was finally satisfied. He confiscated Quistgaard’s laptop, told me to come into the PD the next day to make my statement, and left with his prisoner.

I kissed and hugged Noah, promising to call him; then I locked up the store and drove my father home.

We were both quiet during the short ride. Fighting for my life had exhausted me. But when I stopped the car in front of our house, I put my hand over my father’s and said, “Welcome home, Dad.”

EPIL
OGUE

A
pparently, my existence was just one giant Mo¯bius strip, because the two men in my life were once again sitting shoulder to shoulder, glaring at me. This time they were seated at a picnic table, but it was still way too much déjà vu for my liking.

We were all at my father’s Get Out of Jail Free party, which, due to the unusually warm weather, was being held by the duck pond on our property. Coward that I am, I remained at my dad’s side instead of joining the disgruntled duo on the bench. Dad and I were chatting with Chief Kincaid. It was two days after Xylia had tried to kill me for discovering her dirty little secret, and I hadn’t heard what had happened to her since she’d been incarcerated.

Even though Xylia had tried to slit my throat with a box cutter, I still felt sorry for her. I hoped she would be treated okay while she was locked behind bars. On the bright side, having viewed the video of her and her lover, I knew that wearing handcuffs wouldn’t be a problem for her.

Snickering at my own wit, I turned my attention to the chief. But before I could ask about Xylia, Dad said, “Mr. Bourne has offered me my old job back.”

“Oh.” I was surprised. Mr. Bourne owned Shadow Bend Savings and Guaranty Bank, and Dad had been its vice president. “That was nice of him. Are you going to take it?”

“I’m not sure yet. He feels guilty for believing what Robinson said about me.” Dad shrugged. “But I don’t blame him.”

“Robinson fooled us all,” Chief Kincaid said, shaking his head. “If that man ever stopped lying, he’d be mute.”

For a few seconds I contemplated my own guilt for not believing in my father’s innocence. Then I said to the chief, “What do you think will happen with Xylia?”

“Her attorney and the county prosecutor are working on a deal. It looks as if they’ll agree to self-defense in the case of Quistgaard’s death, and allow Xylia to plead out to attempted murder and assault for her attack on you.”

“Oh.” I glanced at my dad, silently asking him if he was comfortable with the subject, considering his own recent imprisonment. When he nodded, I asked, “How long will she get for that?”

“Probably ten years, but it could be as much as twenty-seven.” The chief took a swig of his beer.

It was odd seeing him in civilian clothing, relaxed and partying. Although I’d known the chief all my life, we didn’t socialize, and it was extremely rare to see him in civvies. Even as a teenager when I’d hung out with Poppy at his house, he almost always wore his uniform.

He and my father had had a long talk, and from what I could tell, their friendship resumed where it had left off thirteen years ago. I was happy for them. Chief Kincaid seemed to have few true friends, and who knew how people would treat my dad? Both men could use a pal.

“So the lawyers have hashed things out,” I commented, then asked the chief, “Are you satisfied that she stabbed Quistgaard in self-defense?”

“I am.” Chief Kincaid nodded. “Between the photos her lawyer produced showing the bruising on her neck, her neighbors confirming that Quistgaard used to drag her screaming from her apartment, and—”

I interrupted, appalled, “Why didn’t her neighbors do something?”

“They didn’t want to get involved. They claimed Quistgaard threatened to kill them if they interfered.” Chief Kincaid shrugged, then said, “From what Xylia’s told us about how her relationship with Quistgaard had changed from consensual to abusive, I’m convinced she feared for her life the night she killed him.”

“You believe her story that she’d become fearful of him and wanted to stop the kinky sex and not be his submissive anymore?” I still couldn’t quite wrap my mind around my prim-and-proper clerk’s twisted bedroom activities. “I mean, isn’t what she describes pretty much the essence of S and M?”

“I’m not getting into that discussion, but Quistgaard’s abusive treatment of Ms. Locke went beyond anything that could be considered role-play, no matter how extreme your definition of S and M may be.” The chief’s mouth tightened. “When she tried to end the relationship, he forced her to sign what little property she owned over to him, and he beat the crap out of her when he found out she had withheld some family jewelry.” Chief Kincaid crossed his arms. “We found the contracts he made her sign in his safety-deposit box, and we obtained the ER report of her injury.”

“The ring and locket he pawned were hers?” I guessed.

“Correct.” Chief Kincaid frowned in my direction. He’d already yelled at me for not informing him immediately about Quistgaard’s laptop. I’d pointed out that I had put in a call to him to do that very thing, and it wasn’t my fault he hadn’t gotten back to me straightaway. He sighed and continued. “Lucky for Ms. Locke, Quistgaard kept meticulous notes and videos on his computer about
all
their interactions.”

“It’s a shame Xylia didn’t turn herself in right after she killed him,” I mused.

“Most criminals would be better off if they did that. Or not commit the crime in the first place.” Chief Kincaid turned abruptly to my father and said, “I’ve got something for you in my car. Care to take a little walk with me?”

As my dad and the chief wandered off, I looked around for another excuse to avoid Jake and Noah, but Boone, who had gotten back from his cruise yesterday, was in a deep conversation with Miss Ophelia, Shadow Bend’s foremost authority on etiquette, and I wasn’t quite up to hearing about the latest trends in excruciatingly correct behavior. It surprised me that Boone was so interested, unless they were talking about fashion rather than manners.

Poppy, Tony Del Vecchio, and Gran were laughing together, and I was afraid to find out what that trio was plotting. Especially since they kept directing inquiring little peeps my way.

Okay.
Instead of mingling, I’d eat. Gran had made her famous hummingbird cake, and if I didn’t nab a slice soon, it would be all gone. I took a paper plate from the pile, cut myself a generous piece of sugary goodness, and settled on a blanket that had been spread in the shade of a towering elm tree.

I had just forked a bite into my mouth and was savoring the pineapple, banana, and cinnamon yumminess when two tall shadows fell across my face. When I inhaled sharply, a pecan fragment got stuck in my throat. While I was trying to get my breath back, Noah and Jake surrounded me, each taking one side of the blanket.

Before either one could speak, I said hastily to Jake, “So, did you give Grant Edwyn the exclusive story from your inside point of view for the
Banner
, like you promised him?”

“Of course.” Jake shot Noah a lofty look. “Unlike a lot of men, I always keep my word.”

Dead-ending on that topic, I turned to Noah and asked, “How’s your mother?”

“She hasn’t demanded to be taken to the hospital in two days, so that’s a plus.” Noah kneaded the back of his neck. “On the other hand, she’s rejected every health aid that I’ve tried to hire.”

“You know, I have an idea about that.” I leaned forward. “I bet all the ones you’ve selected have been female, right?” Noah nodded, and I went on. “The problem with your choices is that Nadine doesn’t like women—other than herself, that is.”

“True.” Noah nodded again. “She feels either threatened by them or superior to them.”

“So hire a man.” I put my hand on Noah’s knee. “Preferably a young and attractive one.”

“Ew.” Noah wrinkled his nose. “That’s just, just . . .”

“I know it’s gross, and I’m not suggesting she’s going to . . . You know she wouldn’t dream of having an affair with the hired help.” I patted Noah’s leg. “But if you find the right guy, she’ll flirt with him and enjoy having him around.”

“And not fire him.” Noah smiled and kissed me. “You’re a genius.”

Jake growled, and I felt his hand on my shoulder, pulling me away from Noah. I allowed him to separate us, not wanting to upset either man by seeming to favor one over the other. This rivalry between them was getting worse. Could I really keep seeing them both?

As I contemplated what I had gotten myself into, I heard a deep voice bark, “Del Vecchio, why the hell aren’t you answering your phone?”

A wiry man dressed in tight black jeans and an even tighter black T-shirt stomped up to where we were sitting.

“What are you doing here, Glen?” Jake stiffened, then rose smoothly to his feet. “And how did you find me?”

“I tracked your cell,” Glen snapped. “Why aren’t you answering it?”

“I don’t work for you anymore.” Jake shrugged. “I put in my resignation yesterday.”

“We’ll discuss that later.” The man’s eyes narrowed. “Right now, you need to come with me.”

“Why?” Jake’s posture was rigid. “I quit, remember?”

“The Doll Maker escaped as he was being escorted back to prison from his appeals trial.” Glen put his hand on Jake’s arm. “He kidnapped Meg and he says he’ll make her his next sculpture if you don’t show up at the foot of the Gateway Arch at midnight tonight.”

“Son of a bitch!” Jake swore, than turned to me and said, “The Doll Maker is a serial killer who carves women’s faces and bodies into what he considers to be the ideal form.”

I gasped, speechless.

Jake drew a deep breath. “Meg and I are the ones who originally captured him.”

I finally managed to ask, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Wait for me.” Jake pressed a hard kiss to my lips. Then with a farewell caress to my cheek so gentle it nearly broke something inside of me, he and the other man sprinted toward the driveway.

I stood frozen as I heard Jake’s truck roar to life, followed by another engine starting. Noah got up and put his arm around me. He didn’t say anything, and neither did I. My feelings were too mixed. Fear for Meg, joy that Jake had resigned from the Marshal Service, and another emotion—one I wasn’t proud of and couldn’t bring myself to name.

Of course, Jake had to go try to save Meg, but a part of me, a part I didn’t want to admit existed, wondered if he’d gone not because it was the right thing to do, but because he still loved his ex-wife.

I thought about Xylia, a classic case of a vulnerable woman who had sought love in the very worst place. Was that me, too? After all, Noah had let me down once. Maybe he’d do it again. Furthermore, I’d had no inkling that Xylia was involved in such a kinky, and, eventually, abusive relationship. Which made me wonder, How much did I really know about Jake?

I didn’t want to be one of those people who clung to their emotional baggage as if it were a floatation device, but I still hadn’t gotten over all the betrayals in my life. What if Jake always felt compelled to run to Meg’s rescue? What if Noah was never able to free himself from his mother’s control? Could I handle either of those scenarios? Did I want to have to try?