EMBELLISHED TO DEATH (22 page)

“And you didn't suspect she tripped you. I'm kind of surprised by that.” Steve straightened.

What in the world of scrapbooking was going on? Why was he so angry with me? And more importantly, why wouldn't he come out and say it instead of trying to verbally trip me up? It didn't matter. I was done with the conversation. “I need to work. We can argue later.”

“Why didn't you go back to our room to rest?” There was a hint of pain in Steve's voice.

“Because I didn't have my key and didn't want to wake you.”

“Yet, you had no problem knocking on the door to get the money box.”

Darn it! I needed to learn to keep my stories straight, or stop my own private embellishing. Why did I want to turn everything into a secret worth keeping?
Just tell him the truth.
“Steve—”

“Are you ever going to be honest with me?” Steve jumped to his feet and stalked out of the room.

Gussie and Darlene pretended to be wrapped up in their scrapbook layout, while Garrison was a little more upfront about his concern and confusion and stared at Steve's retreating form.

“I would if you stayed here,” I grumbled. “I'm going after him.”

Gussie nodded and came into the store. “I'll take care of customers for you.”

“Thanks, I owe you some free crops at the store.” I rose and went in the direction Steve headed. I spotted him through the large glass windows lining the back of the building. He had gone onto the cement deck that stretched across half of the main floor which now looked like a second floor of a building with the way the land sloped down. The back of the building ended at the edge of the hill and gave the resort the appearance that it was built into the side of the mountain.

A breeze ruffled my hair as I walked outside. I tucked it behind my ears. The mountain range was the only thing to break up the vast blue that stretched across the sky. We had lost all the clouds from earlier, though I spotted a few in the distance.

A few women were seated on some of the benches, finishing up snacks and soaking up some sun. Cropping with your back toward the window was a little disorienting. After a while it was good to step outside, get some fresh air, sunlight and reorient your body to the concept of time. Most croppers avoided the clock as it was a reminder their carefree moments of cropping ebbed away. For a lot of the attendees, these retreats were their only times to work on their friendships and hobby.

With shoulders slumped forward and head tucked down, Steve sat a concrete bench placed at the end of the deck.

My heart was torn between being angry with him and feeling bad. I wasn't innocent from keeping secrets, but I felt like Steve was reacting to some kind of betrayal rather than me holding something back from him.

“Mind if I sit?” I nodded at the small empty space.

Steve played statue.

I settled onto the edge of the bench where he sat and looked out at the horizon. The noise of the traffic on the interstate rumbled through the air. Some vehicles hummed by, others revved and roared. Fast and slow. Slow and fast. Just like the pace of life but not with easy exits. Right now, Steve and I were in a traffic jam and I had no idea why there was a holdup.

Yes you do. The lack of truth.
No time like the present was now. No more hiding.

“Someone, who I found out was Marsha, placed a hand on my shoulder as I was running up the stairs. It startled me and I tripped forward. I hit my head. Marsha felt bad and insisted on helping me. I was feeling really dizzy. We talked about the woman who got hit by the car. Marsha was scared that her ex-husband, a cop, tracked her here and accidently killed that woman instead of her. She asked me not to tell the cops because she's terrified word will get to him that she's alive and he'll try again.” I shifted sideways and drew one leg onto the bench. I rested my chin on my drawn-up knee. “When we were talking, I got really tired. Marsha told me I should rest. I woke up when you called. Marsha had left and I guess hadn't thought about waking me up. I hadn't meant to fall asleep for that long.”

Steve frowned. “You could've had a concussion. She shouldn't have left you alone.”

“Marsha is kind of flighty. I've come to see this weekend that reliability isn't one of her strong suits. Or probably even the truth.”

“That's all that happened?”

I tightened the hold on my leg and looked around the area. Most of the women had returned to the cropping room. I heard a few hushed voices around the corner. No one was near us. I inched closer to Steve. “I told her I thought someone's been drugging her.”

Steve finally faced me. “What?”

“I saw Marsha passed out. Or at least I thought she was passed out. She drinks grape soda and I was thinking someone probably doctored it. That what makes me think she could be right about her ex-husband.”

“Her soda?”

“With a nighttime cold relief.”

“And you think this because…” Steve rolled his hand, encouraging more elaboration.

My reason would bring back the brooding Steve. “She says she wasn't drunk either time.”

“What other time?”

“Thursday night at the bar.”

Steve rubbed his hand over his shaved head. “You do realize her having a hangover would explain why she left her car on the side of the road. She wouldn't call the police or a tow truck for help. She might have worried she still smelled like alcohol.”

“I thought of that, but if she was drunk why lie about it? It's her best alibi. She didn't shoot Morgan because she was passed out in her room.” Then again, if Marsha made a habit of changing the truth, she might no longer know what was reality and what was fiction. The truth, in this case, would've set her free. If she was passed-out-get-sick drunk, she couldn't have shot Morgan.

Steve rubbed his eyes. “I don't think Detective Bell would accept a drinking binge as an alibi. Unless someone was in the room with her and could verify it.”

“Then why hasn't he arrested her? I'm sorry I didn't fully explain. I didn't want you to worry.”

Steve stood and walked over to the railing. He leaned against it. “You didn't go back to our room first?”

I stood behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. “No. You called, so I knew you brought the money box. There was no reason to go to our room. I can't believe I forgot it this morning.”

His body grew rigid. “Anything else happen today you should explain to me?”

I dropped my hands to my side, hurt and confused. I blinked rapidly to fend off the coming tears. “No.”

“Nothing at all?”

I hugged my arms across my chest and walked back a few feet. “Just tell me what I'm supposed to say.”

“The truth.”

“About what?” My hurt was churning into anger.

“What were you and Ted doing in the stairwell?”

“Who told you that?” Sweat trickled down my back. I hadn't wanted Steve to find out about Adam this way—overhearing it from someone else.

“Does it really matter?” Pain arced through his voice.

When Ted and I were in the stairwell, the door opened and closed twice. Someone pretended to leave so they could spy on us. My list of suspects was Bell or Violet. The easiest way to conquer a pair was to divide it.

“Yes,” I said. “Because it means someone was following me.”

What had the person seen? I shut the thought down before something showed in my expression.

“I have my sources.”

“If your source is Detective Bell, he wants us fighting. He needs to find the murderer and right now we have the best motive.” I shoved my fingers through my hair and divided into three sections. I needed something to do with hands and started braiding my hair. It wouldn't stay without an elastic band but at least I had some way to release some of the energy coursing through me.

“No. You should stop trying to change the topic.” Steve's eyes narrowed on me. “This isn't about who told me, but who you were getting cozy with in the hallway.”

Sputters and gasps escaped from me but nothing else. A little bit of guilt and remorse pushed through my indignation. Ted and I hadn't crossed a line, but the potential was there and so very real. I knew it. I felt it. I needed to make it more clear to Ted that I chose Steve.

Steve's eyes narrowed on me.

From the corner of my eye, I spotted a blur rushing toward us. A small rail at waist height separated us from a long fall.

“Move!” I screamed and shoved him, hoping to knock him to the side and off his feet. Steve grabbed my hand, taking me with him.

Violet skidded to a halt, blonde hair wild about her head and fury shooting from her eyes. “You want to know who I am. Ask me. Or better yet ask him.” She kicked the bottom of Steve's shoe.

I stared from the enraged woman to a dismayed Steve. I stood, hands clenched, placing myself within catfight range to Violet. “Yeah, I do. So who's going to tell me your real name? Since I know it's not Violet.”

“There was a part of my story I didn't tell you last night.” Steve remained seated on the ground.

“I don't care. I want to know her story.” I glared at Violet.

Violet laughed. “Trust me, honey, you'll care.”

I tightened my fists. “I want to know why you're stalking me. You do realize that's a crime.”

She laughed again. “Don't flatter yourself. I wasn't stalking you. I was hired to keep an eye on you and Steve. He knows who I work for and why I'm here.”

“This wasn't supposed to happen,” Steve said.

“And it wouldn't have if she hadn't been going through my stuff.” Violet glared down at Steve. “So, she's going to get what she deserves.”

What I deserve? My anger ebbed away as confusion and fear whipped through my mind. “Working for? What does she do?” I roamed my gaze between Steve and Violet, waiting to see which one would reveal the truth first.

“I'll tell her if you want.” Violet crossed her arms and a slow grin spread across her face. “And I'll love doing it.”

“I told them Morgan Ware was wrong.” Anger coursed through Steve's voice. Finally, he stood, keeping a few feet between me and him. “They should've trusted me. Taken my word for it.”

“They figured she weaved her spell around you also,” Violet said. “If she was able to trick Adam, you'd—”

“Adam!” I screeched. Blood pounded in my head and a whirling sound erupted around me. Breath tightened in my chest. I gasped a few times before the air unlocked and I could talk. “How do you know about him? Why are we even talking about him?”

“Because Adam's parents think you set him up.” Violet fixed her gaze on Steve. “The original person who went to prove it changed his opinion. He got to know your family. Learned about you. Met you. Ended up believing you. So, Adam's parents hired Morgan. They were worried about the original person. They figured you turned his head just like you had Adam's. They believed you planned on ruining their first investigator's life, an amateur, just like you had their son's. They couldn't allow it to happen again. Couldn't bear to have that kind of heartbreak repeated in their family. Isn't that right Steve?”

A chill wrapped itself around my body and my heart and squeezed. Steve. Steve not only knew about Adam, but knew him. Tears wavered Steve's form.

Pain and remorse flashed across Steve's face. “Adam Westcott's my cousin.”

The world stopped. Or at least mine. It looked darker and was without sound. Steve's mouth moved. I heard nothing. Violet seemed to have vanished. I saw pain and truth in Steve's face. He had always known I had married Adam.
His cousin.
Words I had never said pounded in my mind and soul, demanding release.

Steve reached for my arm.

He had stormed away from me, angry because I was keeping a secret from him. What about his? Why was his okay to keep?

I stumbled away from him, using my wrist to swipe away the tears. “Damn you!”

Birds chirped. The sun heated my skin. Everything returned to normal. Or at least the semblance of normal I had once believed was my life.

Steve moved into my path. “Faith, please listen to me. My Aunt Janice and Uncle Frank couldn't believe Adam would kill someone. I couldn't either. So, I decided to take a job as an assistant prosecutor in Eden instead of working with my father. Janice and Frank stood beside me during my darkest days. I was going to prove JAG was wrong. It broke my heart when I discovered the truth. Adam was a murderer. When I found out they hired Morgan to look into the cases you solved, I called my aunt and uncle. I told them I'd have the guy arrested for stalking if he got anywhere near you. They were wrong. They had to let their vendetta go. They said I was betraying the family by trying to stop them from uncovering the real truth. A truth I didn't want to know because I fell in love with you.”

“You're a liar,” I said, teeth clenched. “Go to Hell.”

Nausea clawed at me. I leaned against the rail, drawing in huge breaths of air. Steve was Adam's cousin. Steve moved to Eden to prove I was a killer. He used my grandmothers to get information about me. Steve's family wanted someone to hurt me. I found myself sinking to the ground. I drew my legs to my chin and rested my forehead on my knees. Tears coursed down my face. Violet stepped toward me.

I bunched my legs, ready to kick and defend myself if she came any closer.

Violet raised her hands and retreated a few feet. “He's not lying. He does love you. Steve wanted his aunt and uncle to stop the harassment. I've worked with his father, Griffin, on cases so I'm trusted by the Davis'. I've also had some dealings with Morgan and knew the kind of man he was. When Steve called and asked if I'd tell his family about Morgan, I agreed because in my line of work it's nice to have favors owed to you by those in the legal field. I told them Morgan wasn't above roughing up people to get the results he needed. They didn't care. I'm sorry you found out this way, but I can't have people going around calling me a murderer.”