Fox River (10 page)

J
ake passed the bread basket to Maisy. “There was some sort of commotion today over at South Land, or maybe it was Claymore Park. When I went to the hardware store, I saw half a dozen sheriff’s department cars on the dirt road that runs between them.”

The family was enjoying a late-night supper. Julia was halfway through a plate of lasagna, some portion of which had landed on her napkin. A long day had passed as she had struggled to reorient herself to the house that had once been home.

“What do you suppose that’s about?” Maisy said, from the other end of the table. “I hope nobody’s been hurt.”

“If some kind of crime was committed, it’ll be used as another argument against development,” Jake said. “If it wasn’t, somebody will point out how important it is to keep the county rural and safe.”

Development was a hot topic in western Loudoun County. The picturesque country life they all enjoyed was constantly threatened by developers who wanted to break up the area’s farms and estates and build mini-estates or, worse, town houses. There was fear that an entire way of life would vanish into suburban sprawl.

“You didn’t hear anything when you were in town?” Julia used her index finger to scoop a bite of lasagna onto her fork.

“Kay Granville thought she glimpsed men digging a line along the fence,” he said.

“That seems odd, doesn’t it? If it was a water or power line that malfunctioned, they wouldn’t send the sheriff, would they?”

“They might if everyone else was tied up and it was important enough.”

“I could call the Sutherlands,” Maisy said. “They expect me to call for odd reasons.”

Julia’s hand paused on the way to her mouth. “We’ll find out soon enough. Flo and Frank have probably already fielded half a dozen calls.”

“If something’s wrong, we should know. So we can help.”

“If something’s wrong, we’ll know soon enough,” Jake said. “Bad news travels fast.”

“How come?” Callie wiggled in the chair beside her mother and bumped Julia’s arm. “Mrs. Quinn told us about the way sound travels in science class. How does sound know if news is good or bad?”

“It’s just an expression,” Julia lowered her fork and started scooping food on it again. “It means people like to tell each other bad news.”

Callie’s silverware clattered against her plate. “I know some bad news.”

“The dinner table’s probably not the best place for that,” Julia said.

“Well, it was only bad news a long time ago. A bad man lived around here and he killed a girl.”

Everyone fell silent. Julia realized she was holding her breath. She forced herself to speak. “This really isn’t the right time to discuss that.”

“How come?”

Maisy rescued Julia. “Because mealtime is a time for good thoughts.”

“Are sheriff’s cars good thoughts?”

“I shouldn’t have brought that up,” Jake said. “My fault.”

“Oh.” Callie was silent a moment.

Julia tried to think of a change of subject as she struggled not to show her distress.

“Too bad,” Callie said. “’Cause I know why they’re digging.”

The child’s words fell into empty space. The only sound in the room was the ticking of a Garfield the cat clock over the sink. Julia could envision the cat’s tail swishing back and forth, back and forth.

“I think you’d like to tell us why, wouldn’t you?” Maisy said at last.

Julia set down her fork. “Maisy—”

“Because when the bad man killed somebody, he buried her jewelry!” Callie said triumphantly. “And now he’s told them where.”

Even the clock seemed to stop ticking.

“How do you know this?” Maisy said.

Julia was stunned that her mother could ask the question as if it hardly mattered. Maisy was a better actress than Julia had guessed.

“Tiffany told me,” Callie said.

“How does Tiffany know?” Julia felt for her water glass. Tiffany was Callie’s best friend. Her mother Samantha trained horses at Claymore Park.

“Tiff said her mommy and a friend were talking about it.”

“Well, now we know,” Jake said. He didn’t quite manage nonchalance.

“Tiff said the bad man’s already in prison.”

“Callie, I think it’s time we moved on to another subject.” Julia was almost desperate.

“But if he’s in prison, there’s nothing wrong, is there? He did something wrong, now he’s helping. That’s good news, isn’t it?”

Julia could feel tears welling, tears that would be much too hard to explain to her daughter. For nine years she had believed in Christian Carver’s innocence. Now his daughter was discussing his confession as offhandedly as if she was discussing a friend’s birthday party.

Callie lowered her voice. “But Tiffany says he’s going to die soon. Even though he’s helping. I don’t think that’s fair, do you?”

“Enough!”

“Julia…” Maisy’s warning was clear. “Callie, this is a sad story, and really not appropriate for the table. We can talk about it after dinner, okay?”

“I still don’t think it’s fair,” Callie muttered. “Those men in Florida are mean.”

“Florida?” Maisy said.

“Maisy, we can’t tell Callie not to talk about this at the dinner table, then keep the conversation going.” Jake was firm.

Julia had lost all appetite. “Callie, are you finished eating?”

“Yes,” Callie said sullenly. “I don’t like it when everybody yells at me.”

“Nobody yelled at you except me,” Julia said. “And I’m sorry. Let’s go in the other room and finish this conversation, okay? We can let Maisy and Jake eat in peace.”

“That’s not necessary,” Maisy began.

“No, Julia’s right,” Jake said. “She and Callie can talk in the living room. When we’re done, we’ll dish up pie for everybody. Your favorite,” he told Callie. “Lemon meringue.”

“Okay?” Julia said.

“I guess.” Callie’s chair scraped the floor. “But I want a big piece.”

“You know it,” Jake said.

Julia slid her chair back and gripped the table edge. She edged herself between her chair and Callie’s before she relinquished it. Then she slid her chair back in place and turned. She allowed Callie to lead her through the doorway.

In the living room, she paused to get her bearings. “The sofa’s over there?” She pointed.

“Uh-huh.”

“Let’s sit there.”

Once they were settled, Julia put her arm over her daughter’s shoulders. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

Callie was obviously still pouting. “I was just telling you what Tiffany told me.”

Julia didn’t know exactly what to say. “I know you were. And
we
started the conversation, didn’t we?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Callie, the girl who died a long time ago was my best friend. Her name was Fidelity. She was Flo and Frank Sutherland’s daughter.”

“Really?” Callie sounded more fascinated than shocked.

Julia played with her daughter’s pigtail. “That’s why it’s hard for me to hear about this.”

“Oh…How come nobody ever told me?”

“Well, it’s not something I like to talk about.”

“Why did the man kill her?”

“Nobody really knows. Until now…until now he said he
didn’t
kill her. I guess maybe he’ll explain.”

“You knew him?”

Julia had known Christian, yes. In all the ways one person could know another. “He was a friend of mine, too. And of Fidelity’s. It’s very, very hard to accept the fact that he murdered her.”

“Tiff said he was driftwood.”

“Driftwood?”

“Something like driftwood.” She paused. “Drifter.”

Julia was confused. “No, a drifter is somebody who moves around a lot. He lived at Claymore Park.”

Callie lowered her voice. For the first time, the severity of what had happened seemed to sink in. “Tiff said he killed a lot of people. I’m glad he didn’t kill you, Mommy.”

“He didn’t kill a lot of people, honey. I don’t know what Tiff heard, but that’s not true.”

“Tiff said they’re going to put him in a chair and kill
him
because he killed so many people in Florida.”

Julia had a sudden vision of chasing a fox and having it go to ground. One moment the fox was in sight, body tensed, the next it simply vanished. “Florida? Callie, what did—”

The telephone rang, and she and Callie sat in silence as Maisy answered it. Then Maisy came into the room, telephone in hand. “It’s Flo Sutherland, Julia. She needs to talk to you. It took her a while to track you here, but she says it’s important.”

Julia didn’t reach for the telephone. In the past weeks her life had changed immeasurably. She knew it was about to change again.

“Julia?”

“Take Callie in the kitchen, would you, Maisy? I think she’s ready for her pie.”

“Come on, Callie.”

Callie got up, and only then did Julia reach for the phone. She waited until Callie and her mother had gone before she brought it to her ear.

Maisy knew better than to ask Julia to listen to the next chapter of her novel that night. After Flo’s telephone call, Julia had held up well enough to put Callie to bed and get ready herself, but Maisy knew that the one thing her daughter needed most was solitude.

The house was dark, the dishes finished, and the windows closed and latched before she went to look for Jake.

She had expected to find him in their bedroom, but when she found he wasn’t, she went out the back door and made the trek to the barn. She heard him talking to Feather Foot before she even opened the door.

“What a good pony, a pretty pony.”

She stood in the doorway and watched them, the hulking, gentle man and the flirtatious little paint. “Did you bring her sugar cubes? After telling Callie not to give her too many?”

“Carrots. Left over from dinner.” Jake didn’t turn.

“Guess I can’t find fault, then.”

“She’s a pretty little thing. Feisty, but pretty. A lot like Callie.”

“And you spoil her the same way.”

He stroked the pony’s nose a moment before he faced his wife. “I like to spoil the women in my care.”

“It’s been a tough evening.”

“You want to talk about it, don’t you?”

“I suppose. Do you?”

His mouth twisted wryly, neither a smile nor a frown. “I wish I had something to say. Something wise and all-knowing about the universe and the way things always come right in the end.”

“They don’t.”

“That’s why I don’t have anything to say.” He brushed his hands together, then held out his arms. She crossed the floor and went into them.

“The phone call was a terrible shock for Julia.”

“Terrible?” He tightened his grip, hugging her closer. “To discover that a man she loved isn’t guilty of murder after all?”

“She’s always known that.”

Jake rested his cheek against Maisy’s hair. “You want to believe that because you like to keep your eyes closed to certain realities.”

“And what reality are we talking about this time?”

“That life is far more complex for your daughter than it is for you. That she has never developed your defenses.”

She was hurt, but she tried for humor. “She’s married to Bard Warwick. A defenseless woman couldn’t survive that.”

He kissed her hair. “No matter what you want to believe about her, Julia did doubt Christian’s innocence, at least momentarily. And now she’s going to have to face the fact that she didn’t stand beside him when he needed her most.”

“He wouldn’t let her.”

“Because she faltered on the witness stand.”

Maisy shivered. The evening was cool, but Jake’s arms were warm. She supposed the shiver had something to do with a chink in the defenses Jake had mentioned. “I’m so torn. If they find Fidelity’s jewelry tomorrow, Christian will surely go free. I’ve prayed for that since the day he was sentenced, but Julia has so much to deal with. Having Christian come back now will make things that much harder, won’t it?”

“It won’t make things easier.” He stepped back a little and rubbed his hands up and down the sleeves of her sweater, as if to warm her. “What makes you think he’ll return?”

“Because Peter’s been his champion. I’m sure he’ll offer Christian a job at Claymore Park.”

“Peter has contacts all over the horse world. He can help Christian find a job far away from the scene of the crime. Christian’s been gone nine years. Will this still seem like home? When nearly all of Ridge’s Race and beyond was sure he murdered Fidelity?”

“I think when you’ve lost everything and you’re given a chance to find some part of it again, that’s what you do.”

Jake seemed to consider that. “You’re a wise woman, Maisy.”

“Do you think so?”

“I think you let it slip out now and then, when you don’t think anyone’s listening.”