Harlequin Intrigue, Box Set 2 of 2 (43 page)

“Jeremy actually said Charlie was here?”

“He seemed pretty damn sure. He told me Maria Eastern would know but warned me not to ask her outright.”

“Maria? Well, she does seem enmeshed in things.”

“She said today that she's here in White Cliff because her sister has a relationship with Robert Brighton.”

“Really? What have you learned about Charlie from her?”

“Nothing. I wanted to ask her outright. I figured when she found out I wasn't working for Block she'd be open, but I didn't know what you had set up so I decided to wait to talk to you first.”

“Maybe we should just go talk to her.”

“I don't know,” he said. “If she's responsible for taking Charlie then she's involved in kidnapping. If she knows who did take him, then she's an accessory after the fact. Either one of those charges are very serious. It seems unlikely she'd be chatty about it if she knows you're Charlie's mother and might bring charges.”

“You know what's been bothering me? How did they even know Charlie was at Jeremy's house? He and I had been gone almost nine months.”

“Maybe there's a neighbor someone paid off to report when and if Charlie returned.”

“Or maybe Jeremy set this whole thing up to get rid of me forever,” she said.

He squeezed her shoulder. “Okay, you'd better tell me what you told the people here so we don't trip each other up.”

“I remembered a friend of my father's from a long time ago. He joined a cult down in Texas. There were rumors children were being abused. When the cult refused to submit to a government investigation and took up arms, there was a big invasion of sorts. My dad's friend was shot along with two kids and a policeman. In the way that can happen with these things, Dad's friend became a sort of legend. When I got here, I told them Hank Miller was my uncle. It was obvious his name was familiar to them. I said my husband had beat me up and I'd been on the run for a while. I asked for help.”

Two men walking toward them scanned them uneasily. One was carrying an AK-47 slung over his back. Lily and Chance both smiled. They got zero response from the men who passed them by without saying a word. Chance hugged Lily closer to be able to whisper to her. “That must be why Block warned that police involvement with Charlie's kidnappers could be dangerous. He's afraid if law enforcement shows up, these people might defend their home turf and create a situation like the one down in Texas.”

“But law enforcement showed up after Wallace Connor's death and asked about Fallon. Nothing terrible happened.”

“They asked about someone who apparently doesn't exist. Coming to look for a kidnapped child is a whole different ball game.”

“The key to this has to be Maria,” Lily said. “We have to find out more about her. But who do we ask? I haven't spoken to a single person here but Maria, a couple of the teachers and a few kids. Everyone else just looks at me funny.”

“Well, if we can't ask anyone in White Cliff, we'll have to ask elsewhere.”

* * *

L
ILY
SLID
INTO
the old red truck. She'd never seen it before, but having spent six months serving as a cook and housekeeper for the Hastings men, she knew there were barns and sheds aplenty with years of accumulated equipment tucked away here and there and everywhere. She doubted they even knew exactly how much stuff they had.

Instead of starting the truck, Chance sat with both hands on the steering wheel and stared through the windshield as if he was in a daze. She loved his strong profile and admired it for a bit, remembering the kiss of a few minutes before with a rush of pleasure. She could only imagine what it would be like to sleep with him, to have all his heat and power focused on her to the exclusion of anyone else. It was a very provocative concept.

He turned to face her and for a moment she wondered if her thoughts had somehow entered his consciousness.

“What are you thinking?” Lily asked.

“Neither Maria or her son, Dennis, knew anyone named Darke Fallon. They've all heard of him because the police came calling after the Connor shooting. Have you met Maria's other son?”

“No. I haven't even met Dennis. But Maria said her sons were less than a year apart in age.”

“What I'm thinking is this. We've been concentrating on Fallon because he killed himself under your husband's watch, so to say. But the guy Fallon killed in that motel, he must have been someone's kid, too. If I'm remembering correctly, he was in his early twenties. I also remember he lived in Greenville and left a couple of family members behind. Greenville is roundabout six miles from here. I stayed there last night.”

Lily had already started a search on her cell phone. “No one named Wallace Connor is listed but there is an O. Connor and there's also a place called Connor's Greenville Bakery, both in Greenville.”

He glanced at his watch. “What time do they close the gate here?”

“Nine o'clock,” Lily responded. “Are you suggesting we drive to Greenville?”

“Sure. We have plenty of time and we need to rule the Connor family out when it comes to taking Charlie.”

“I know...but—”

“But what?”

She shook her head. “It feels wrong to leave here and drive into Greenville on a wild-goose chase. Charlie has to be behind one of these closed doors...”

“There are dozens and dozens of closed doors in White Cliff, Lily. Very few of them will actually open up to let you in.”

“But there are more neighborhoods to search. I've only walked through two of them.”

“Listen to yourself. You're looking for Charlie out in the open while all the houses sit up away from the road. He could be behind any one of the hundreds of windows and how would you know? This isn't the regular world where you can pretend to go door to door with a survey and look for him. These people are wary of strangers—”

“You think I don't know all of this?” she interrupted, her voice rising.

He took a deep breath. “Okay, I'll come with you and look through the other neighborhoods. There will still be time to hit Greenville when we finish with—”

“No, Chance, no. Two unknown adults walking side by side are intimidating to people. Remember the looks those men gave us? A lone woman just kind of disappears.”

“Then I'll wait—”

“No, that's okay.”

“But we should stay together.”

She curled her fingernails against her palms. “This is the very reason I came alone,” she said.

“Why?”

“I knew you'd try to micromanage me.”

He took a deep breath before speaking carefully and she could hear the effort he put into holding his temper. “You're right. Charlie is your son and you didn't ask for me to come find you, in fact you went out of your way to make sure I didn't. But I'm here now, and I think we should take advantage of that. Since we can't walk the neighborhoods together, let's split up and cover twice the ground.”

“I guess so,” she said, getting out of the truck. “The next neighborhood isn't far, I'll walk.” She shut the door louder than she had to.

She heard him start the engine as she walked stiffly toward the gate and then she stopped and turned. He hadn't moved the truck an inch. A debate raged inside her head. Some of what he said made sense. Instinct and love weren't always enough. Giving in to fear wasn't going to help. And what else had Jeremy told Chance that he hadn't yet shared that might help her figure this out?

She walked back to the truck, opened the passenger door and got inside. “I've decided we should drive into town,” she said.

He didn't utter a word, just backed up the truck and headed out on the gravel road. Lily closed her eyes for a moment. Days of worry were taking their toll. She finally took a deep breath. “Chance? Are we going to talk?”

“About what?” he shot back as they finally hit pavement and turned toward Greenville. He didn't even glance at her as he asked.

“Listen, I'm sorry I seem ungrateful that you've come to help.”

He spared her a quick glance. “I'm not here to undermine you, Lily. I'm only here because two heads are better than one. Charlie needs as many people on his side as he can get. And I knew that if I wasn't here helping I'd never know how this ended.”

“What do you mean? I would have called you when this it's resolved.”

“Really? Because with your track record, I was pretty sure I'd never hear from you again.”

“My track record?”

“You're a quitter, Lily. You run away when things get scary.”

She opened her mouth to refute his comment, but he interrupted her.

“You ran when I kissed you that first time. You ran when Jodie Brown came to the ranch. You ran when you decided I would be too much trouble to bring with you to White Cliff. And you want to run now.”

“I didn't ask you to follow me here,” she said.

“No, you didn't. You seldom ask anyone for much of anything. Is there a person in this world you trust?”

“Your father,” she responded immediately.

“And yet even with him you didn't come clean and admit how serious your problems were with your husband. It's like you're afraid to give up any control at all.”

She turned her head and stared out the passenger window. He thought he knew all about her! He thought he had her figured out. Couldn't he see it had taken her six years of a bloody, soul-draining marriage to finally grasp the raw edges of self-destiny? And now she was supposed to share it, to give it away?

“Maybe I do run when I feel threatened, but don't you think you do the same thing?” she said.

He looked perplexed. “What do you mean?”

“You're almost thirty-five years old. You've never had a serious relationship. As soon as a woman starts to feel the slightest bit comfortable, poof, you're gone.”

“That's not true,” he said, but the shifting in his eyes revealed he wasn't so sure about it.

“Maybe we're more alike than you want to admit,” she said.

He stared at her for a long moment before speaking again. “I never thought of myself as a quitter,” he said. Was that pain in his eyes? Was it possible he'd actually considered what she said? He took a deep breath and added, “I guess when it comes to you I should have minded my own business right from the start. I don't know why I keep bugging you. But now it's about more than you and me, it's about Charlie. I like that kid. I want him to be safe, with you. Don't ask me to turn away from doing anything I can to make that happen.” He cast her another wary glance. “Truce?”

“Truce.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“The bakery is straight down Main Street, left on Franklin,” Lily said. She put the phone in her purse and added, “The residence is two blocks over on Lincoln.”

“Let's start with the business,” Chance said.

The bakery was in the middle of a block that looked as though nearby strip malls had exacted their toll on commerce. Parallel parking existed on either side of the two-way street that had been planted with numerous sugar maples. Their colorful leaves seemed to wage war against the increasingly gray skies, though defeat was inevitable.

There was a chill to the air that promised winter was soon to become a force to be reckoned with, and Chance saw Lily pull her sweater closer around her body and shiver.

The bakery itself was awash with pink. Pink walls, pink counter, pink trim. Most likely, he thought, the glass-fronted display cases would be filled with a decent variety of goodies in the morning. But this late in the afternoon, there were only a few loaves of bread and some tired-looking pastries to be had.

A girl who didn't look a day over sixteen stood behind the counter. Unsurprisingly, she wore a pink apron over her T-shirt and jeans. “Betsy” was embroidered in white over the pocket. Her face was round and lightly freckled, her eyes a pale blue. “Can I help you?” she asked, pausing in her chore of wiping fingerprints off a case door. There was a guarded look in her eyes.

“How about a loaf of bread?” Chance said.

“Wheat or whole grain. That's all we have left.”

Chance looked at Lily who supplied the answer. “Whole grain. Boy, those pastries look good.”

“They are,” the girl said.

“Let's get the last three,” Chance said. “Did you bake them?”

The girl shook her head causing the straight reddish-blond locks to slide across her shoulders. “No way. My dad gets up at three every morning and does the baking. He was depending on my brother to take over, but, well, anyway, Mom works here most of the day and then I come after school on Monday, Wednesday and Friday when I don't have band practice. Do you want the bread sliced?”

“That's okay, we'll do it ourselves,” Lily said. “Is your dad or mom here now?”

“No. I'm closing the store today. You should try again tomorrow.”

“We will,” Chance said and then as though an afterthought had occurred, added, “Forgive me if this is a difficult question, but are you related to the man who was so senselessly killed last year down in Boise?”

Her eyes immediately filled with tears. “How did you know about Wallace?”

“I read about it in the paper. Are you his sister?”

“Yes,” she said and flicked away a tear with shaky fingers.

“I'm sorry I brought it up,” Chance said. “It must be terrible for you.”

“That's an understatement,” she said. “It just about destroyed my whole family.”

“I know he had a girlfriend—” Lily began, but Betsy cut her off.

“Don't call her that! Tabitha Stevens is awful. Wallace was five years older than her and way out of her league but when Tabitha wants something, she's relentless and Wallace was as stupid as the next guy when it came to girls like her.”

She took a deep breath as though winded and shook her head. Her face had turned red and blotchy. “She killed him, not that hitchhiker. Oh, I mean that Fallon guy obviously turned Wallace's knife on him and stabbed him, I mean, he confessed and everything, but I just know Tabitha pushed Wallace into taking that stupid trip. And then she walked around town boohooing like she's Juliet and she's lost her Romeo. It made me sick.”

“What did the police—”

“The police? Don't make me laugh. That girl can cry like a banshee. They all fell for her lies. Everyone in this town thinks she's a poor little thing because her boyfriend got killed. Wallace was my brother. My family is the one who lost someone they loved, not Tabitha.”

Chance glanced down at Lily who was staring in wide-eyed wonder at Betsy. “I'm really sorry we brought it up,” Lily said to the girl. “You're obviously still in a lot of pain. But it will get better. I know people always say that but it's because it's true.”

“I don't want it to get better,” she said. “I want to hate Tabitha forever. If I can ever prove to the town what she really is, that'll be the day I'll finally feel better.”

“What do you mean what she really is?” Lily asked.

“She was running around on Wallace.”

“With who?”

“I don't know who. I heard rumors. I still hear rumors. And about two weeks ago I was coming home from a band concert and I saw Tabitha sneaking around over by the east side of town. It's dark and dangerous over there and she was alone and it was late. I tell you, she's rotten to the bone.” She stopped speaking and took a deep breath as though to center herself. “I know I sound terrible,” she added.

“You just sound angry,” Lily said gently. “It's how you feel.”

“Yeah,” she said, slipping the pastries into the bag with the bread. “You owe me eight dollars and fifty-five cents.”

“Something else,” Lily said as Chance paid for the goods. “Do you have much to do with the people up at White Cliff?”

“Not too much,” Betsy said. “They come into town now and again but they make people nervous and don't ever say too much unless you get them started and then they go on and on about politics.”

“Do you know any of them, I mean personally?”

“Not really. There was one lady a year or two ago who was nice. I guess she runs a store up there. She and her sons used to come to town now and again and she was kind of friendly. Her oldest boy is cute.”

“You're talking about Maria,” Lily said.

“Yeah, do you know her?”

“We're staying up that way for a couple of days and she's been like the White Cliff ambassador of sorts.”

“Yeah. Well, some of those people have been up there for years and they've gotten kind of standoffish. Maria was different.”

“Was?”

Betsy shrugged. “I haven't seen her in a long time but the last time she came in here to buy bread, she was different. Kind of quiet and preoccupied, I guess. She didn't smile and she always used to smile.”

“When did she change?”

Betsy narrowed her eyes in concentration. “A while ago. After Christmas sometime.” She handed them the bag. Lily reached for it right as the bell on the door announced another customer. A boy about Betsy's age seemed surprised she wasn't alone.

“Hey, Todd,” Betsy said.

“Hey,” he responded. He ran a finger along the glass case. He reminded Chance of himself about that age, still growing into the man he'd become with time. His shoulders and buzz-cut hair glistened with water. Chance glanced through the window to see the clouds had finally broken.

“Do you want something?” Betsy asked. Her voice had undergone a distinct change from impatient to silky.

“No, just hanging out,” he said and flashed her a smile. His voice cracked as he added, “I thought you'd be alone.”

Betsy cast Lily and Chance a pleading look.

“We're just leaving,” Lily said, and they beat a hasty retreat.

“Whew,” Lily said as they stood on the sidewalk under the awning. “That poor girl is a walking, breathing emotional roller coaster.”

“She hates Tabitha and apparently has a thing for Todd,” Chance agreed. “I can't see how either of those concern us, but the news about Maria changing is interesting.”

“It's gotten cold,” Lily said, stretching the poor sweater even tighter around her body.

Chance looked at the stores lining the other side of the street and added, “Follow me,” grabbed her hand and led her across two lanes of sparse traffic.

The store they entered wasn't the kind Chance was used to navigating. Mannequins on one wall modeled what he guessed was the latest in fashion while circular racks held dozens of slacks, dresses and sweaters. The saleswoman hastened their way and asked how she could help them. “This lady needs a warm coat and a sweater and whatever else she wants,” he said.

“Come this way,” the saleswoman coaxed Lily as she moved toward the back of the store.

“We don't have time for this,” Lily protested.

“Then don't waste what time we do have arguing,” he said.

“I don't want you buying me clothes,” she added stubbornly.

“I'm not. I'm using your husband's money. Technically, I guess it's more your money than mine as I lied to get it.”

“Money he gave you to find Charlie?”

“More or less.”

The furrowing of her brow suggested she would ask him more about this later. “Okay, I'll get a coat, but don't keep calling that man my husband.”

He shrugged.

Fifteen hurried minutes later, they left the store four hundred dollars poorer but at least Lily looked warm in her new faux fur lined raincoat. She carried three shopping bags as well, full of everything from warm pajamas to jeans and walking shoes. She hadn't tried on a single garment, just bought them off the rack, so distracted by the clock that Chance wasn't sure she even knew what she'd chosen.

“I asked the saleswoman about Maria and White Cliff,” she said as they got back in the truck. “She had no idea who I was talking about. I gather this is her first winter this far north and the rain is already getting to her.”

The Connor house was a modest one-story affair built of brick. Nobody's yard looked great this time of year and theirs was no exception. The rain was quickly turning the sparse grass brown with mud, the cracked cement walkway was slippery with moss as though the front entry was seldom used. They made their way carefully to the front door and knocked.

It took a few minutes, but eventually the door opened and a faded-looking woman of about forty faced them. “May I help you?”

“We wondered if we could talk to you and your husband for a few minutes,” Chance asked politely.

“What about?” she asked.

“Your son, Wallace.”

“What about my son?” she said, her voice shaking now. “He's dead and gone, murdered for a measly two hundred dollars and a ring. They didn't even take his credit cards. What can you possibly want to talk to us about?”

“Darke Fallon.”

A man showed up behind the woman. He appeared to be ten or so years older than her, a smallish guy with a lightly freckled round face and graying hair. Light blue eyes peered from behind wire-framed glasses. “Let them in, Carolyn,” he said.

The woman opened the door wider and Chance followed Lily over the threshold. The room they entered was sparsely furnished but fastidiously clean. The woman motioned at the sofa and asked if they'd like anything hot to drink. They declined. The house smelled great to Chance, like roast beef, like home. The table in the corner had been set for dinner.

“My name is Otto,” he said, “and this is my wife, Carolyn. Now what's this about our Wallace?”

Chance introduced himself and Lily who immediately asked if she could use their restroom. Carolyn pointed out the way and Lily left the room.

“First of all, I should mention that we stopped at your bakery and talked to Betsy,” Chance said.

“About Wallace?” Otto said with a quick glance at his wife.

“Yes.”

“Did she cry much?” Otto asked.

“A little. She also talked about Wallace's girlfriend, Tabitha.”

“Uh-oh,” Carolyn said. She'd perched on the edge of a chair and now folded her hands together between her knees. “Betsy gets kind of wound up when it comes to Tabitha.”

“There's no love lost between them,” Otto agreed.

“What do you think of Tabitha?”

“She's just a kid,” Otto said. “Works a shift at the Burger Barn south of town, seems popular. Comes from a dysfunctional family but just about everyone seems to these days. We didn't see too much of her. Wallace lived with a friend across town and seldom brought Tabitha to our house. I think he was kind of embarrassed because she was his little sister's age.”

“And the girls didn't like each other,” Carolyn added. “But Betsy shouldn't be bad-mouthing her to strangers. By all accounts, Tabitha was in terrible shape after Wallace's funeral. My heart went out to the girl.”

Otto cleared his throat. “You said you wanted to talk about the man who killed Wallace. You do realize no one knows much about him?”

“No one knows anything about him,” Carolyn said.

“I read a sketchy article about the murder,” Chance explained. “I can hardly believe the police couldn't identify Fallon.”

“I know,” Otto said. “Neither could we. He said he was hitchhiking from Bend, Oregon, where he lived, but there was no evidence a guy by that name ever lived there. Fallon isn't an unusual last name but the Darke part is different. Anyway, when asked about his friends, the only names he gave were first names like Johnny or Dave or Nick. He said he used Wallace's hunting knife to rob him and when Wallace refused to hand over his money, he stabbed him. But the kid was not only younger than Wallace, he was about half his size. And then the police said it appeared he'd been stabbed while lying down, not standing. But then again, the boy did have Wallace's blood on him.”

“How did the police explain the stabbing position discrepancy?”

“They really couldn't. One of the officers told us that Fallon must have lied about what happened. It makes more sense that Fallon came into Wallace's room after he was asleep and killed and robbed him and just didn't want to admit it. Wallace had been drinking that night. His blood alcohol numbers were high.”

“He could sleep pretty soundly after a six-pack of beer,” Carolyn added.

“What about the murder weapon?” Chance asked.

“Wallace's own knife. It was still in the van when they caught Fallon. He'd tried to wipe it clean, but there were traces of blood on the blade. It was a hunting knife Wallace carried with him all the time.”