If You Ever Tell (27 page)

Josh, on the other hand, seemed to go almost limp. His fist unclenched, the anger drained from his face, and his shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, Miss Farr,” he said wanly, as if he hadn’t any energy left. “I hardly know what I’m saying, but that’s no excuse. Dad would be ready to kick me right now and I’d deserve it.”

“It’s all right, Josh.” Teresa gave him a small smile. “I understand that you’re upset.”

“Yeah, well…” Josh trailed off uncomfortably. “I gotta go. Like I said, I can’t make any funeral arrangements until the police tell me it’s okay. They have to do an autopsy.…” He suddenly looked almost sick. “I’ve gotta take care of the horses and I wanted to remind you that Bobby Loomis and Susan Woodward are scheduled for lessons, but the barn is a crime scene. We can’t give lessons until the cops release it.”

“Of course,” Teresa said, remembering when the Farr home had been a crime scene and she’d had to wait two days before she could retrieve any clothes or toiletries. “I’ll cancel those lessons and all the others for the rest of the week. And thank you for taking care of the horses today.”

“I can’t just sit around thinking about this. Dad always told me that you’ve gotta keep busy during bad times, so that’s what I’ll do. The cops said I can only do what’s necessary for the horses—they don’t want me in the barn any more than I have to be—but I’ll be around if you need anything.”

With that, he nearly fled out the front door. Teresa looked through the window to see him racing over the knoll to the barn, where she knew he’d throw the little energy he had left into feeding and grooming the horses before he faced the cottage where less than twenty-four hours ago he’d probably been having breakfast with his father.

Teresa turned to Kent. “Well, do you have any more questions for me? Any more accusations, complaints—”

“Teri, I’m sorry, too,” Kent interrupted in his usual manner. “You just have to understand how shocked I was when someone called this morning and started asking about the murder and I hadn’t heard anything from you. Then I came here and found out you’d been with Mac.”

“You acted more upset about Mac than about Gus, Kent.”

“I don’t trust him, Teri. You’ve never told me why you broke off your engagement, but I know he did something to hurt you. And ever since, he’s gone through women like they were candy, just tossing them away like they weren’t worth anything—”

“It’s my turn to interrupt,” Teri said sharply. “Just how do you know so much about Mac MacKenzie’s love life?”

“I hear things. Everybody knows about him.”

“From whom do you hear these things? And why does
everybody
except me know about all of these women he supposedly treats so cavalierly? I talk to Carmen and she
does
hear everything, but she’s never said anything about Mac treating women badly.”

“She wouldn’t to you. She cares about you. She doesn’t want to hurt you.”

“But I thought you didn’t approve of her or my friendship with her and thought she was simply a gossip who’d repeat anything she heard.”

“Well, I never said she was totally devoid of tact. If she were, she wouldn’t have been such good friends with Mom. I mean, Mom thought the world of her, so I guess there had to be something worthy about Carmen.”

“Yes, there is. And I think the reason you don’t like her is because Sharon doesn’t like her. I don’t know what Sharon’s problem with Carmen is, but the animosity is becoming unbearable.” Teresa paused. “The subject wasn’t Carmen, though. The subject was Mac. All I want to say is that I’m not involved with Mac, but if I were, that would be
my
business. I don’t take orders from my big brother, orders based on a lot of rumors he claims to have heard.”

Kent’s eyes narrowed slightly. Teri knew he was bristling at her tone. At Farr Coal Company, he’d gotten used to being the boss, having people do what he told them to do. He didn’t like Teresa’s rebelliousness. Nevertheless, he knew that rebelliousness was an intrinsic part of her, that she was not easily intimidated.

Kent’s manner almost instantly changed. “Teri, I think Mac wants you back. Maybe he genuinely cares for you. Most likely, though, he can’t stand having you be the one that got away, the one who threw
him
over, and don’t tell me the breaking of the engagement was a mutual decision. It was yours. Anyway, let me ask you something. You said you had an argument at his club and he came here to straighten out things between the two of you. Did you come straight home from the club and did he arrive immediately after you did?”

“I don’t see what this has to do with anything.”

“Just answer these two questions for me and I’ll leave you alone.”

“All right. No, I didn’t come straight home. I stopped at the convenience store on the corner. I was there about fifteen minutes. And Mac didn’t arrive here immediately, which you already know because I’d been talking to you for about ten minutes when he started banging on my door.”

“Then think about this, Teri,” Kent said slowly, almost grimly. “Mac had time both before and after you got home to go to your barn and let out Eclipse. Maybe he only meant to create some situation that would throw the two of you together, some way that he could
help
you and get back in your good graces, but something went wrong. Gus caught him. Maybe they struggled and in the heat of the moment…” He lifted his hands while her imagination created a picture of Mac plunging the stable fork into Gus’s chest. “Mac has a temper, Teri. That’s one thing everyone does know for certain—maybe everyone except Gus, who didn’t know what could happen to him if he got in Mac MacKenzie’s way.”

After Teresa had showered, drunk two more cups of coffee, and forced down some toast, she remembered that the Farr house had finally been sold and Kent had ordered the furniture to be moved out tomorrow, which meant she was supposed to look at the place today and claim any pieces she wanted. The thought of visiting the house gave her the creeps, especially today after Gus’s death. For a full hour, she told herself she wouldn’t bother touring the house. She didn’t want anything.

Then she remembered the grandfather clock. Her mother’s grandfather had bought it for his bride. Marielle had inherited it after her parents’ death, and she’d treasured it, planning to remove it from the house as soon as she’d completely recovered and set up a home of her own. Marielle had never gotten the chance to claim her clock, though, and it had stood in the Farr house all these years as if waiting. Marielle had loved the clock and Teresa knew her mother would have wanted her to place it in her home here at Farr Fields.

For a few minutes, Teresa considered simply calling Kent and telling him she wanted the moving men to bring the clock to her house, but remembering the clock had made her think of other things of her mother’s that might still be in the house. Marielle had left quickly, then been shuffled off to a mental institution. Her clothes and necessary items had been sent to her aunt Beulah’s upon Marielle’s release, but Teresa couldn’t remember anyone actually sorting through all of her mother’s belongings. Some things of Marielle’s might be in that house, and whatever was left, Teresa wanted the chance to see it and decide if there was anything of sentimental value. She would have to go, she told herself. It would only take an hour. She’d just dash through the house and get out as soon as possible. No big deal.

Still, Teresa took her time gathering four boxes for any small items she might want to take from her childhood home, then made a leisurely search for the house key. When she found it, she stuck it in her purse and started for the door, her dread growing. She nearly cried out in relief when the phone rang, delaying her trip.

“Hello!” she almost chirped.

“Teri? Is that you?”

“Of course it’s me, Mac.”

“You sound so cheerful. You took me by surprise after last night.”

“Oh, I’m not as lighthearted as I sounded,” she said, her voice falling to its normal timbre. “I was just going to our old house. It’s finally sold and Kent arranged for everything to be moved out and stored tomorrow. I’m supposed to make a tour today and pick out what I’d like to have moved to my house.”

“Do you want some company?”

Teresa longed to say yes, but she was afraid things were moving too fast between her and Mac. He’d been wonderful to her last night—kind, comforting, warm but not aggressive. She’d felt that maybe, just maybe, she and Mac could have a chance, but only if they took their relationship slowly and carefully.

“I think this is something I should do alone,” Teresa said simply.

“Why?”

“I just…” She floundered for something tactful to say, then gave in to honesty. “I
want
to go alone, Mac. I don’t relish the idea of seeing the house again, but I haven’t been inside for eight years and I don’t plan on ever being inside again. I
need
to go by myself for a final good-bye to the place where I had the worst experience of my life.”

“Okay,” Mac said amiably. “I don’t quite understand your reasoning, but I know that once your mind is made up, arguing is useless. Just be careful.”

“Be careful? What do you think is going to happen to me?”

“Considering the things you told me about last night—the note in your car, the fax, the night-light—someone might want to give you another scare.”

“Well, no one except you and Kent knows I’m going, so I don’t expect any pranks.”

“I wouldn’t call what happened to Gus Gibbs a prank.”

Teresa felt as if she’d been slapped. “I certainly wasn’t comparing Gus’s murder to me getting a nasty note!”

“Now I’ve made you mad. I didn’t mean you were demeaning the importance of his murder. Just don’t stay in that house too long. I don’t like the idea of you even being there.”

“Thanks for your concern, but I’ll be fine,” Teresa said coolly, determined to act composed as she made a thorough search of the house for her mother’s belongings.
Alone.
“I’ll talk to you later, Mac.”

Teresa hung up before he could say a word. She knew she was being childish—she probably shouldn’t visit the house alone even though she didn’t feel she would be in any physical danger—but she’d been offended by Mac’s implied criticism. She didn’t want his help. She didn’t need his help. She could take care of herself.

Teresa tossed the boxes in her car and fifteen minutes later, she pulled into the driveway of her former home on Mourning Dove Lane. She sat for a moment staring at the graceful Georgian lines of the big brick house. Neatly trimmed hedges ran along the front, and a bright July sun bounced off clean windows set in neat white frames. Whoever Kent had hired to keep the house maintained was certainly doing a good job. Even the lawn had been recently mown and raked. Any stranger passing by would think a family was lucky to live in such a large, lovely home.

Teresa stepped out of her car, then pulled her boxes from the backseat. She stacked them awkwardly and was almost stumbling to the front door when she heard someone let out a shrill, “Yoo-hoo! Hello there!”

Teresa tilted her head and looked at a small, birdlike woman coming at her with a tiptoeing run. Teri half-expected the woman to look over her shoulder as if she were being pursued.

“Are you from the realty company or are you the new owner?” the woman asked.

“Neither. I’m Teresa Farr. My family owned this house.”

“Farr,” the woman repeated. Her smile froze. “Oh,
Teresa
Farr. I didn’t realize. Obviously.” She let out a loud nervous giggle that sounded remarkably like a horse whinny. “I live next door. My husband and I bought our house seven years ago. Our two kids were young then. Now they’re in college.”

Teresa remembered that the next-door neighbors—the ones who’d made the 911 call the night of the murders—had put up their house for sale two months after the murders. Unlike the Farr house, theirs had sold in less than a year.

“My husband told me to mind my own business, but I thought I should tell someone I’ve seen lights on in this house the last two nights in a row. Not bright lights—soft, glowing lights. Really just one light moving from room to room upstairs. It doesn’t go fast like someone is carrying a flashlight and looking for something. It stays in a room for up to an hour. But I never see a car come or go and I don’t see anyone come into the house or leave. Last night I stayed up until three o’clock watching. My husband said if it happened again tonight, then I could call the realty company and let them handle it. He’s a great believer in me not getting involved.”

Fear whispered at the back of Teri’s mind. A soft light glowing through the upstairs windows? The last
two
nights? A real estate agent wouldn’t be showing the house in the wee hours, and people wouldn’t linger for nearly an hour in each room. This was beyond odd—it was definitely a sign of trouble, even if someone was just prowling around inside the house out of curiosity. No one should have a key to the house except Kent, Teresa, and the realty company.

“You probably think I’m exaggerating or I just imagined something, but I know what I saw,” the woman said defensively, as if Teri had argued with her. “I have insomnia and I’m up almost every night until three or four in the morning. My husband says I’ll just die from getting so little sleep, but I can’t help it.

“Anyway, while I’m up at night, I spend most of my time looking out of my windows,” the woman said confidentially. “I have to say most people would be shocked if they saw all the peculiar things that happen on this whole street! I’ve seen the strangest comings and goings, midnight assignations, people carrying odd things into their houses under the cover of darkness. It’s true! Oh, the stories I could tell! But I’m not going to tell you
everything.
I just want you to know about
your
house. The rest I’ll keep to myself for a while—for the sake of safety, you understand.”

Abruptly, Teri felt her fear dissolving as the woman turned and skittered back across the lawn, then stealthily opened her front door and darted inside as if she were in imminent danger. She was sleep-deprived and paranoid at the very least, Teresa thought. The poor thing sat up nights thinking she saw all kinds of suspicious activities on this street that to Teresa’s knowledge had only seen violence once. The woman had certainly heard about the Farr murders—she definitely knew who Teresa was—and no doubt spent many nights creating fantasies about the house next door.