Deceit (16 page)

Worst case scenarios ran through my head. What if Melissa didn’t show? I couldn’t stay here all night. And I couldn’t go home, and I couldn’t go to Dineen’s. A lot of choices that left me. Some hotel. How long could I keep that up?

What if Melissa
did
appear, and I blew the surprise confrontation?

What if, amazingly, she agreed to break her silence? Who would I take her to? Surely not Chief Eddington.

Reporters, that’s who. Get the media involved. Then the public would be watching. The Vonita police wouldn’t be able to sustain a cover-up.

Baxter would still try to lie his way out of it. He couldn’t be allowed to pin blame on Melissa. She would need an attorney’s advice before leading authorities to Linda’s grave. Maybe she’d need some kind of immunity in exchange for her information? I didn’t know.

But that whole process could take days. Meanwhile Melissa and I could still be in danger.

Fresh anger at Hooded Man rose within me. If I only knew his identity.
Had
he acted alone—or did a circle of justice-seekers silently urge me on? Would they come out of the woodwork if Melissa went to reporters? Would
anyone
come forward with corroborating evidence? Would they help keep us safe?

Six o’clock arrived. The sky was darkening.

Six-twenty. The streetlights had come on. Fortunately, I’d parked some distance from the closest one.

My muscles were tight, every nerve on edge. Helplessness filtered through me, untamed and fiery. I had to do
something
other than just sit there.

On impulse I pulled my regular cell phone from my purse and dialed 411 for the number to Perry’s convenience store. He answered on the second ring.

“Hi, it’s Joanne Weeks.” My eyes remained on my target house.

“Hey, Joanne.” He sounded pleased. I never called his store.

“Anybody else around at the moment?”

“Just yours truly.”

Now that I had him on the line, how to pose my question? I wanted to trust him. I wanted…I wasn’t sure what. But I didn’t know whose side he was on.

If he was on any side.

“I need to ask you something, Perry. This morning as I left your store you said, ‘Do what you have to do.’ What did you mean by that?”

Hesitation prickled the distance between us. I pictured Perry’s kind eyes, his detective novel on the counter. I pictured him in his house, alone. “Just that I admire you for speaking out about what you believe.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.” He paused again, as if awaiting an explanation. “Should there be more?”

“I don’t know; you tell me.”

A red car passed, headed up toward Melissa’s house. My eyes flicked to the driver. A man. My muscles relaxed.

“Joanne, I’m not sure what you’re trying to say.”

I gripped the phone, Hooded Man’s white and bloodied cheek flashing in my brain. I could see those shadowed eyes, hear the roughened voice.

“Do you know what I’m doing right now?” I asked.

“Is this a trick question?”

“No.”

“You’re talking to me on the phone.”

My chin sank.

He made a sound in his throat. “Are you okay, Joanne? Can I help you with something?”

Fear and frustration welled up my throat. Yes, I needed help. But I still hadn’t the slightest notion whom I could trust. I just wanted to go home and wake up on a new day. Discover this was all a horrible nightmare.

“No, Perry. I’m…fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

Headlights appeared up the street. I sat up straight, watching with hawk eyes. Was it slowing down?

“Joanne, you there?”

The car
was
slowing. And it was approaching Melissa’s house.

The garage door at house number 264 began rolling up. The car turned into the driveway.

“Gotta go, Perry.” I threw the cell into my purse.

The car drove into the garage. The door rolled down.

God help me; this was it. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t hesitate, lest fear paralyze me.

Purse in hand, I hefted out of the SUV and locked it. On trembling legs I walked swiftly up the street to confront Melissa.

THIRTY-ONE

As I hit the porch of 264 South Anniston, an overhead light flicked on. Footsteps muffled through the door.

Melissa—coming out to check on the package.

I froze.
No, no, not yet!
I wasn’t ready. I’d needed to gather myself before ringing the doorbell.

Everything in me wanted to turn and run.

A lock clicked, then a bolt. The door pulled back.

Melissa stuck her head outside, gaze aimed downward. She caught sight of my feet, and her head jerked up.

We ogled each other.

Her cheeks had grown a little rounder, her brown hair now cut to her shoulders. But I’d have known her in a crowd. Her eyes latched onto mine as emotions rippled across her face. Surprise…recognition…indignation…fear. My tongue couldn’t utter a word.

A small gasp escaped her. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you, Melissa.”

“Why?” She threw wild looks up and down the street, as if searching for ghosts. “How’d you find me?”

“No one’s with me. Please let me come in.”

“How
did you find me?”

“I—”

Anger cinched her face. “The UPS lady. That was
you
.”

“Please, I—”

“Get out of here! Now!”

She pulled back into the house, started to shove the door closed. I thrust my foot across the threshold. The door hit it hard. I winced.

“Get out of here right now, Joanne.” Melissa’s words spit through clenched teeth. “Or I’m calling the police.”

“You
can’t
call the police. You want me to tell them why I’m here?”

“I have no
idea
why you’re here.” She pushed harder against my foot. I couldn’t have pulled it out if I wanted to.

“Melissa, please. Let me in.” My voice shook.

“What do you want?”

“I
have
to talk to you.”

“Who knows you’re here?”

“Nobody. I promise. Please. Give me five minutes.”

“You
lied
to me.”

“Do you know Baxter’s second wife is dead?”

Melissa’s shoulders arched back. “What does that have to do with me?”

“Everything.”

She glared at me, her hand still on the doorknob, her cheeks blanched. My foot throbbed. I clutched my purse, a trembling supplicant.

Air whooshed from Melissa, deflating her chest. She dropped her chin, anguish and ire etching her forehead. She stepped back. Opened the door.

I pushed inside before she could change her mind. We stood in a tiled entryway, illumed by an overhead light. To the right lay a darkened living room, leading to a dining area. A large den with a staircase at the far side was on the left. Straight ahead up a hall I could see a little of the kitchen, the only other room in the house that was lit.

Melissa banged the door closed, folded her arms, and assailed me with her eyes. “Five minutes.”

My throat constricted. None of this was going right. I struggled to find a starting point. “Can we sit down?”

“No.”

I nodded.

“This is about Baxter.” Melissa spoke his name with contempt.

“Cherisse, his second wife, died two weeks ago. From a fall down the stairs, so he said. I don’t believe it.”

“Why should I care?”

“Because you saw him kill Linda.”

Melissa’s jaw moved to one side. She singed me with a look on slow burn. “Says who?”

“Linda told me he was beating her. She showed me the bruises. I never believed Baxter’s story of what happened that night. And now Cherisse is dead, and he’s going to get away with that too.”

“Not my problem.”

“You want him to kill a third wife someday?”

“I don’t know anything about Cherisse.”

“Doesn’t matter. They’ll have to reopen that case once they see Baxter lied about Linda.”

She shook her head.

“Melissa,
please
. I’m begging you to tell what you saw. Don’t let Baxter get away with this.”

“He already has. The Vonita chief of police is one of his best friends.”

“He doesn’t have to get away with it forever. You can change that.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Yes, you
can.”

“Joanne.” Her eyes closed, her voice dulling. “You don’t know what you’re asking. He’ll kill me.”

He’ll kill
me
if you don’t.

I touched her forearm. “I’ll be with you every step of the way. We’ll go to a reporter first, not the police. A reporter will be all over the story—”

“Baxter will deny everything.”

“But you can prove it. You know where Linda’s body is.”

Her eyes widened, and abject fright seized her face. “Who told you that?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, yes it does!
Who
told you?”

A
clack
sounded from the rear of the house. Like metal on metal. Melissa stilled, and her eyes locked with mine. She hunched forward, mouthed
Did you hear that?

I nodded.

The unmistakable whir of a sliding glass door opening filtered to our ears.

Melissa focused past me, ancient horror in her eyes, as if she’d known for years this day would come. For an endless second neither of us moved.

The light in the kitchen blacked out.

Melissa twisted and smacked off the entryway light switch. Grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the unlit living room. Instinctively, we crouched low, moving on panther feet across the tile.

Our feet hit carpet. I couldn’t see a thing in the sudden darkness. A streetlamp two doors up gave no light to the room. I stumbled after Melissa, clutching my purse to my chest—and praying.

Somewhere in the distance footsteps skulked.

THIRTY-TWO

JUNE 2004

By the second week of working in Baxter’s real estate office, Melissa’s dreams of her mother’s death came less often. But they were no less vivid when they did invade her sleep. The blood on the trailer’s kitchen floor, the gash in her mother’s forehead, the wild and furious reality that the woman whom she hated, loved, hated was gone.
Gone
. Such relief from that stunning knowledge. Such abject fear.

But Melissa’s past life was fading. Almost like she was two people—the Melissa before coming to the Jacksons’ house, and the Melissa after.

“Baxter Jackson’s office.” Melissa answered the ringing phone at her small desk in the corner of Baxter’s large office. As the top-selling realtor in the firm, he claimed the most square feet. His desk faced away from hers so he could look out over the surrounding hills. In June, with no rain since early May, the hills had turned brown.

Although Melissa’s desk faced a plain wall, she didn’t mind a bit. She was a real estate assistant! Unlicensed, sure, but she’d change that as soon as she could. Melissa saw herself working with Baxter well into the future—until he taught her everything he could. Then she’d strike out on her own.

“Is the man himself around?” asked a male voice on the line. Melissa recognized it at once. Chief Eddington. Melissa’s chin raised.

“He’s here, Mr. Eddington, but he stepped out of the office for a minute. May I have him call you right back?” Her voice sounded the utmost in professional.

“Ah, you knew me. Who’s this?”

“Melissa.”

“Melissa! Baxter’s got you working there now?”

“Yes, sir.”
And I’m good at it too.

“Well, that oughtta keep you out of trouble.” The chief’s voice held a hint of tease. All the same Melissa’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh, you can be assured of that.”

Movement on Melissa’s right caught her attention. Baxter was entering the office. He wore a gray suit and coral tie today. As always he held himself upright and confident. Every day Melissa worked for the man she became more convinced he could move mountains. Everybody in this whole building thought he walked on water.

“Hold on a moment, sir,” she said into the receiver, then pulled it from her ear and placed her hand over the mouthpiece. “Chief Eddington.”

“Put him through on line one.”

Melissa did as she was told and hung up.

Baxter picked up the phone at his massive desk and settled into his black leather chair. “Wayne, my man.” He listened a moment. “They
what
?” Irritation clipped his voice. Baxter swiveled his chair toward Melissa and held up his index finger—Melissa’s signal to leave him alone in the office for the call. He did not look happy.

Melissa rose and picked up the flyer she needed to run off in the copy room down the hall. Leaving the office, she shut the door behind her.

She knew better than to ask about the calls Baxter took alone. They didn’t happen often. When they did it was always some businessman on the line—or Chief Eddington. Never a woman. Baxter had never done anything to make Melissa think he was running around on Linda. Melissa
had
wondered. If he shoved his wife around at home, what else might he do in private? But she’d seen nothing.

Disappointing in a way, Melissa thought as she positioned the flyer she’d created on the copy machine glass. Because she never would have told a soul. It would have given her one more opportunity to prove to Baxter how loyal she was.

The machine chugged, spitting out its copies. Melissa stood back, arms crossed, and waited.

Truth was, part of her would have been crushed to discover Baxter was running around.

Five minutes later, copying done, she gathered the papers and returned to Baxter’s office. She could see through the large window that he was no longer on the phone.

Melissa entered and crossed to his desk. She laid the stack of flyers neatly upon it. This close she could smell his aftershave.

He frowned up at her, as if still upset by the phone call. Then smiled. “Chief Eddington says I’d better watch out for you. Or next thing I know, you’ll be outselling me in real estate.”