Forget Me Not: A Novel (Crossroads Crisis Center) (34 page)

Kelly stiffened, let what Peggy said seep in and take hold. “You’re right. My head knows you’re right, but my heart … ”

“Your heart is full of fear.” Peggy glanced toward the kitchen. “Ben’s at the fridge getting a cold drink. Now, you give him a chance before you fly off with that hate business. You’re selling yourself short, but you’re selling him short too. And being a child of God too—whether or not Ben wants to be—he deserves better.”

“I’ll remember.” Kelly wrung her hands and couldn’t seem to stop except by cramming them into her pockets. She walked into the kitchen. “Ben, hi.”

Ducked into the fridge, he straightened, holding a bottle of orange juice. When he saw her, he smiled broadly and he got that twinkle in his eye. “Good morning.”

She would likely never see that twinkle again. Pausing to savor it a moment, reluctant to let it go and lose it forever, she said, “Doris drove me over.”

“She’s terrific. We had a long chat before the crack of dawn.” Lifting the bottle, he asked, “Juice?”

She shook her head, forced herself to meet his gaze. “Do you have a minute?”

“Sure.”

“We need to talk.” Oh, how she wished they didn’t. He was everything she’d ever wanted—well, except for the God thing, but she just knew he’d work through that. Yet after this discussion, the odds were astronomical that he’d do it without her in his life.

She couldn’t blame him for that.

“You okay?” He shut the door. “Have a seat.” He motioned to the table and chairs.

Kelly sat down, her back to the door.

“You’re worrying me.” His expression mirrored his words. “You don’t act like this. Worried, concerned, angry, or touched, you always let me see
it. But you’re not right now.” He sat across from her, folded his hands atop the table. “Why is that?”

Her eyes filled with tears that spilled down her face. “I remember.”

“That’s wonderful news.” Smiling, he reached for her hand.

She refused to take it. “No, Ben.” She paused. “I mean, it is wonderful that I have my memory back, but what I remember is awful.” Her voice cracked. “Really awful.”

He tugged a tissue from a box and passed it to her. “Whatever it is, it can be worked out.”

“Not this.” She gave up trying not to cry and spilled out what had happened as best she could. “You’re going to hate me, Ben. I really, really care about you. It isn’t some misplaced fantasy. I know you’re the right man for me.”

“That’s good news. I care a lot about you too, and I’ve been driving myself nuts, wondering if you’re married or—” He stopped, stilled. “You’re not married, are you?”

“No. It’s nothing like that.” She dabbed at her nose with the tissue, but seeing the relief on his face and knowing it’d soon disappear and disgust would replace it had her crying again. “Before I tell you this, listen to me.”

“Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad. Just tell me.”

“It is that bad. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I mean, I’d love it if you could, but I know you won’t be able to do it. No one could. Not even me.” She let out a self-deprecating laugh. “This is going to hurt you, Ben. If I could, I’d take it on myself to spare you, but I can’t.”

She had his full attention now, and he’d never appeared so solemn and sober. “Kelly, what is it?”

“I know why Susan was killed.”

He slammed back in his chair, as if forcefully hit. “What?”

Oh, but she’d stunned him. “Let me start at the beginning.” When he silently signaled, she went on. “The beach house belonged to my aunt Beth. She was my mom’s baby sister.”

“An artist, yes.”

“After my parents died, I spent summers here with her. It was all I had of a home life.” And memories of that time were all she had of one now. But that was best left unsaid. “Three years ago, Aunt Beth and I went to a Pirates’ Party at Gregory Chessman’s house. It was a costume event, but I didn’t know it, so I went as myself.” She’d taken a few jabs from those behind masks for not being in the spirit enough to dress up. “I went out onto the terrace for some fresh air. Everyone else was inside, but it was so nice out there that I just stayed.”

She paused a long second, letting her rioting emotions settle. Ben looked as if he wanted to say something but was totally lost. She knew how he felt. “Two men came outside and talked with a third. They didn’t see me, and I didn’t want to be seen, so I stepped behind a column.”

She pushed her hair back from her face and looked Ben in the eye. “It was Paul Johnson and Gregory Chessman. The third man, I didn’t recognize, but Chessman deferred to him, so I expect he was his boss or a higher-up in NINA. They were talking about getting everything and everyone in position for a biological attack, Ben. So it would kill everyone but not damage valuable equipment and materials. I couldn’t catch all of it, but I heard more than enough to get me hunted down. I’ve been running from them ever since.”

This was so hard. She let herself absorb it.
Help me get through this. I can’t do it alone
. Reassuring warmth spread through her chest. “I wouldn’t have listened, but with what they were discussing, I had no choice but to stay hidden and pray they didn’t discover me.”

“But they did?” Ben took a drink of his untouched juice, and while he sounded steady, his hand shook.

“Yes. They were talking about how the property had been condemned and all that stood in their way was my aunt Beth. They had to have her beach house.” Kelly grabbed a staggered breath. “She had told me about being pressured to sell—some of her neighbors had been too, though the buyer was anonymous. She said she had her suspicions on who was behind it, but if she said anything, she’d be driven out of the village on rails.”

“Did she say she suspected Johnson or Gregory of something illegal?”

“No. But I heard plenty enough to know that what they were planning with this NINA guy was treason, and if anyone got in their way … ”

“What?” Ben slid forward on his seat.

“Chessman told Johnson to remove all obstacles. Permanently.”

Kelly remembered the sick fear that had assaulted her that night. She’d been terrified. That Gregory talked of killing people was horrific, but the dispassionate tone in his voice chilled her to the bone. “I must have gasped or something because Chessman heard me. He ordered Paul to find me and get rid of me.”

Oh, she’d never in her life been so afraid. “I ran, hiding behind bushes in the darkness.” Once, Paul had come so close to her she’d smelled his sweat. “He didn’t find me. But Chessman and he were close, and Johnson told him not to worry. He’d take care of it. Chessman said, no, he’d have someone else deal with that, he wanted Johnson focused on getting the beach house.”

“Good grief.”

“I ran, Ben. And I kept on running. I didn’t even go back to the beach house for my clothes.” Shame burned her face. “I left Aunt Beth a voice
mail message that I had to disappear for a while and I’d be in touch when I could.”

“Oh, Kelly.”

“I know.” She parked her elbow on the table and half-covered her face with her hand. “I’m ashamed of myself for running, but I couldn’t find another way to keep Aunt Beth safe. If I stayed away—”

“Then she wouldn’t be harmed.”

“Yes.” Kelly cleared her throat. “It worked too. Chessman couldn’t find me, and he left Aunt Beth alone because he knew I was out there and could nail him.”

Ben dragged a hand across the back of his neck. “Then she had a heart attack and died.”

“And I started getting anonymous offers for the beach house—above market-value offers.”

“Chessman.”

“I would think so, but I can’t prove it.” She still bristled at Alexander Denham’s odd insistence that she sell. Never, not once since he’d transitioned from being her guardian and trustee to her advisor, had he pushed her that hard on anything.

Ben frowned. “I don’t understand how this connects—”

Then it hit him; she could see it in his eyes, and though the words were no longer necessary, she gave them to him.

“Johnson and Chessman mistook me for Susan.” She licked her lips. “Aunt Beth had hoped Susan and I would meet at the party, but some woman—the mayor’s wife, I think—told Aunt Beth that Susan couldn’t come. She was home with a sick child.”

Ben stared at Kelly, his jaw gaping, his eyes fixed. He looked frozen, as if he couldn’t move or even breathe.

“I’m so sorry, Ben.” Her tears flowed in earnest. “I didn’t know Susan. I had no idea she existed, much less that she’d be mistaken for me.”

“My wife and son were killed by mistake?” He clearly was struggling to wrap his mind around it. Angry and bitter, he raised his voice.
“By mistake?”

“Oh, Ben. I’m sorry. So sorry.” A sob tore loose from deep in her chest. “It’s my fault Susan and Christopher are dead.”

“Lucille, where is Mr. Chessman?”

“Late breakfast on the terrace, Mr. Johnson.”

Paul kept walking. “Thank you.”

Lucille looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. Paul supposed it was odd; he didn’t typically waste time on chitchat. But he was in a particularly good mood now that he’d covered himself and Gregory was on the hook.

He walked out onto the terrace. Mr. Chessman sat at a glass-topped table, finely set as always, sipping at coffee and reading the paper. “Good morning again, sir.”

Chessman lowered the newspaper. It fluttered in the cool breeze.

“Paul. What’s up?”

He wasn’t happy at having his breakfast interrupted, but then Paul didn’t recall ever seeing the man happy. Amused, thrilled by a deal, yes. But happy? No. Never.

“I need a little time off. It’s a personal matter.”

“Today?” Gregory eyed him sharply.

“Just a few hours this morning, sir.”

“So it won’t interfere with tonight’s shipment?”

“Of course not, sir.” Paul knew better than to consider anything that would interfere. The only excuse for upsetting Mr. Chessman’s schedule was death. One’s own. “It shouldn’t take long.”

Chessman’s eyes glinted like flint. “Anything I can do?”

“No sir.” Only a crazy man or a very stupid one would give Gregory Chessman anything on himself.

“Very well.”

“Thank you, sir.” Paul turned to go.

“Ten o’clock. Don’t be late—and let me know when John Green gets back from New Orleans.” Gregory chuckled. “He must be having some party.”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“He isn’t returning my calls.”

“If you like, I can phone him to let him know you’d appreciate a more timely response.”

“Thank you, Paul, but no. He has need of his fingers, and it’s nothing that can’t wait.”

“Yes sir.” Paul left the terrace, smarting from Chessman’s snide remark.

Soon enough, the tide would turn. He tamped his temper. Chessman would go down, and because of NINA, he wouldn’t be able to say a thing. Not even against Paul. The man was going to need someone loyal on the outside.

And Paul would gladly step into those shoes. He’d be the master of Chessman’s universe for the rest of his life.

Everything to make it happen was now in place.

K
elly sat at the table across from Ben, staring at him, watching him stare at her, weeping silent tears wrenched from her very soul largely because she knew he had to be weeping inside too.

A rap at the door ended a horrible silence.

“Yes?” Ben swiped at his jaw with his sleeve. “Come in.”

Peggy opened the door, took one look at Ben and then at Kelly, and pretended everything was normal. “There’s been a development.”

“What development?” Ben’s voice was soft, disconnected, and distant.

Caught in the past
. Her heart twisted even more.

“We got a phone call.” She looked at Kelly. “It was about your beach house.”

“From whom?” Ben asked.

“We’re not sure,” Mark said, stepping around Peggy. “It was disguised. We couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, and the number wasn’t traceable.” Mark slid a hand through his hair. “We’re waiting for Detective Jeff Meyers to report in with the official word, but I suspect it’s another throwaway phone.”

Kelly found her voice. “What did the caller say about the beach house?”

Peggy leaned against the door frame. “It’s critical that you go to the beach house right now and take a hard look around inside.”