Forget Me Not: A Novel (Crossroads Crisis Center) (33 page)

While in a spare bedroom, Edward heard something that sounded like a cat. But when he realized the noise was coming from the closet, he’d known it was the girl.

He’d left right then and placed an anonymous call to the lawyer he’d discovered in Samuel’s papers. Alexander Denham had come straight over.

Edward waited outside, hidden in a clump of trees, and watched the ambulance leave with Kelly.

He hadn’t learned until much later about NINA or that Alexander Denham was an alias for Alik Demyan, a man Kelly’s father had met in Russia. He, Samuel, and Alik had become the closest of friends.

That she’d been in the closet so long had been Edward’s burden of guilt to carry, and it never left him. That had been one of several reasons Edward was such a stickler about paying Harry’s child support. He’d have to do something to help the kid. Maybe say it was a life insurance policy Harry had left for him or something. Yeah, that would work. It might even give the kid a good feeling about his father. Like Harry cared about him. A boy should have at least that much from his father.

Edward cranked the engine and reached for the gearshift.

The car exploded.

K
elly scrambled out of bed, washed up, tugged on yet another fresh pair of blue scrubs, then ran for the back door.

“Hey!” Doris yelled out from the stove “Where are you going? Breakfast is nearly ready.”

“Doris.” Kelly paused a brief second and clasped Doris’s hand. “Thank you for coming. It means the world to me. But I need to talk to Ben. It’s critical.”

“Ben.” Her voice warmed. “Now he’s a package.”

“Yes, he is.” Kelly licked her lips. “I don’t mean to be rude, really. But it’s urgent I talk to him right away.” Kelly grabbed the doorknob. “I’ll be back.” She glanced at the stove. “Thanks for fixing breakfast.”

“He isn’t home.” Doris lifted fluffy scrambled eggs onto a plate. “He said to tell you he’s at the crisis center.”

What now? She didn’t have a way to get to him. She’d call. “It’s barely daylight. They must have had an emergency.” According to Peggy, most of them did occur during the night.

“Actually, he’s meeting with the insurance adjuster.”

The fire. “Oh, Doris. You have a car!”

“Of course.” She looked at Kelly over her glasses. “It’s a long walk from Marietta.”

Kelly grabbed her arm with one hand and Doris’s purse with the other. “I need a ride.”

“Can’t you eat first?”

“No, no, I can’t.” Kelly accepted her condemning look. “I remember, Doris.” Kelly wrung her hands. “He’s going to hate me. Seriously. But I have to tell him. I can’t not tell him. That would be … unforgivable—not that what I have to tell him is forgivable.” Hot tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, this is awful. Worse than awful.”

“Well, I’ll be.” Doris turned off the stove and took possession of her purse. “You’re in love with the man.”

Was she? Could that be possible? The truth slammed into her. “Oh, Doris. I am!” Kelly covered her mouth with her hand. She really was in love with him. How had that happened? When had it happened? Why hadn’t she realized it and stopped it from happening?

“Stupid, stupid girl.”

Samuel Johnson’s voice rang in her head, and she couldn’t dispute it. Not this time. Of all men, she had to fall in love with the one she absolutely should not love—ever. He could never—would never—allow himself to love her back. “Doesn’t it figure, Doris?”

“I’ve always told you that when the time was right you’d find him.”

Nothing about this time, or this man, was right. It could never be made right. “You did,” she told Doris, her heart breaking. “But you never told me that when I did, he’d hate me.”

“Why will he hate you?” She frowned. “He hasn’t known you long enough to hate you.”

“Oh, Doris. If I’ve known him long enough to love him, he’s known me long enough to hate me—and he will. He already does; he just doesn’t
know it yet.” Kelly tugged Doris toward the door, the truth she’d spoken hurting her battered heart. She buried the pain under a sniff.

“Then he’s not the man I believed he was.”

“He’s a good man. Maybe a great one,” Kelly protested.

“Not if he hates you and doesn’t even know it.”

“It’s not his fault, Doris. It-it—”

“It
what?”

“Later. We’ve got to go.”

Kelly shuffled Doris out the door, down the walk, and into her green sedan. Then Kelly ran around the front end, got in, slammed the door, and clicked her seat belt in place. He’d have every right to hate her. How could he not hate her? She hated herself for this.

Doris started the car, then sat staring at Kelly.

“What?” Why wouldn’t she go?

Doris looked over her glasses and down her nose at Kelly. She wasn’t moving. “Why is Ben going to hate you?”

“Doris, please.” Kelly shook her head. Honestly, the woman could be mule-stubborn at the worst possible times. “I’ll tell you later—I promise. He should hear this first.” She gulped and signaled Doris to get going with circular hand motions. “And he should hear it from me.”

Paul stopped by a 24/7 Wal-Mart and picked up a new throwaway phone. He paid for it with cash and avoided looking directly into the security cameras both in the store and on his return to the parking lot.

Seated in his Lexus, he pulled out a voice recorder. He’d worked on editing it most of the night, and he’d turned out a fine product. Only the
top professionals in the field stood a hope of ever determining the recording had been edited at all.

He’d learned at the hands of a master of deception, and he’d learned well. His father.

“Here we go,” he said to himself. He dialed 911.

A woman answered. “Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”

“Something exploded off Red Bluff Road near Magnolia,” the recording told her. “I’m not sure what happened, but I can see the smoke and flames from my terrace. Could be a house, but it’s probably a car. Something’s fueling it. Flames are above the treetops.”

Paul hit pause and waited.

“Who are you, sir?” the emergency operator asked.

Satisfied, Paul pressed the play button. “This is Gregory Chessman,” the recording said, then spilled out his address and phone number.

“I’ve dispatched the fire department and a police unit, Mr. Chessman. Could you repeat your phone number?”

Paul hadn’t prepared for that and didn’t dare fake it and insert his own voice, so instead he let the recording play out.

“Thank you. Good-bye.”

He hung up to the sound of the woman saying, “Mr. Chessman, wait—”

Paul wiped down the phone with one of Chessman’s handkerchiefs, drove down to the gulf, and walked to the edge of the pier. “Cross me, Chessman?” Anger ran deep through his veins, pulsing and pounding in his head. “Big mistake.” He tossed the phone into the rough water and watched it sink, knowing it would never again be seen by man.

Satisfied, he stuffed his hand in his pocket, pulled out his cell, then dialed Gregory.

“Yes, Paul, what is it?”

Paul glanced at his watch. “Sorry to disturb your morning swim, sir, but I wanted to let you know that Edward and Harry are no longer on your priority list.”

“That’s a good way to start an important morning,” he said, decidedly cheerful.

“I thought you’d welcome the news.” Paul looked at a flock of sea gulls overhead. Their shrieks nearly drowned out Gregory’s voice. Paul stuffed his fingertip into his ear to block the racket.

“You’re certain?”

“Absolutely positive, sir.”

Chessman grunted, judging by the hollow echo, heaving himself out of the lap pool. “What about the woman?”

Kelly Walker
. “Not yet, sir.” That was the one thing he and his now-deceased half brother had in common. Neither of them relished killing another Samuel Johnson victim. But when push came to shove and survival stood at risk, another truism revealed itself.

Johnsons ate their own.

Edward was the greatest threat to Paul—and if the moron had created problems for him with NINA, Paul would dig him up from his grave and cut him into a million pieces for pure meanness.

Kelly Walker wasn’t much better. She had no idea his attempts on her life had failed because Paul had wanted them to fail. But things had changed.

It was crunch time now, and Paul meant to survive. That meant she had to die.

Edward might have died not knowing what had happened to his father and half brother, but Paul knew. He’d paid a high price for the
information—Darla demanded an alliance, and given no choice, Paul had accepted. She had obtained a copy of Alexander Denham’s court case. The records had been sealed, so only she and God knew how she’d managed, though being the mayor’s wife likely had been involved. Agreeing to the alliance had gained Paul access. And the case file included a listing of all Johnson’s relatives.

His father had abandoned his new family just as he had his old one. And like Edward, Paul had sought Samuel. Edward had failed. Paul had found him—and had learned what he was doing to Kelly. Locking a kid in a closet … just like his brother had done. Until he’d grown large enough to take on his old man, Paul had spent more nights on the closet floor than in a bed. The day Paul had won the fight was the last day he’d seen his father.

His mother had never forgiven him.

She’d moved on to a new man too much like her husband. Paul had left home and never looked back.

He was fifteen.

So Kelly would have lived to fight her battles another day if she’d just not remembered her past or she’d had the good sense to run again. She’d done neither, so she had to die.

And now that Chessman would be tagged for calling in Edward’s and Harry’s demise, and the police would follow the trail of connections Paul had laid between them, and the probability that they could unearth Gregory’s connection to NINA was off the charts high … she had to die soon so Paul could be spared.

He would be spared, provided Chessman hadn’t somehow discovered Paul’s alliance with Darla.

And provided that Paul killed Kelly and then won the one battle left to fight.
Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer
.

It wouldn’t be easy to walk this fine line. His opponent was far stronger and smarter and more resourceful and certainly more complex than anyone ever had dreamed.

The battle with or against Darla Green …

P
eggy stood at Mel’s desk, and when Kelly ran into the center still wearing scrubs, Peggy clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “The clothes didn’t fit?”

“No, I just grabbed the first thing—” Kelly shook her head. “Where’s Ben?”

“Kelly, what’s wrong?” Peggy moved toward her.

She lifted a hand, her throat going thick, her eyes burning like fire. “I need Ben.”

“Come on.” Peggy clasped Kelly’s elbow. “Are you hurt? Sick?”

Hearing Doris introduce herself to Mel, Kelly blinked hard, rushed her steps, but Peggy’s kindness was her undoing. “I remember, Peggy, and it’s awful.” She swallowed a sob. “He’s going to hate me as much as I hate myself.”

“Stop that.” Peggy jerked Kelly still. “You are a daughter of God, Kelly Walker. He created you exactly as you are, and you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. You’re a good woman. I’ve checked. So don’t you dare tell me that you’re to be hated. Not when the hand of God Himself molded you.”