Living Lies (21 page)

Lara inhaled deeply on her cigarette. The smoke from the glowing tip swirled and drifted in the air like a ghostly hand grasping at nothing. Haley suppressed the shiver running down her spine.

Could Lara be a borderline sociopath? No guilt, no regret. She’d lied and manipulated to get what she wanted and felt completely justified doing so.

“Why not admit what you did? My God, the people in this town practically ran Dean out and you sat there quietly, knowing none of it was true. What if he’d gone to jail?” Haley couldn’t hide the disgust in her voice. Not that she wanted to.

“I was afraid,” Lara said, her voice warbled some. “Because I knew.”

“Knew what?”

Lara stood and moved around to the far side of the desk. She lifted the letter opener and worked it between the edge of the desk and the drawer. When the lock gave way with an audible click, she set the opener aside and slid open the drawer.

She removed a small black velvet box, popped the lid and held it open to Haley. The diamond ring glittered against the velvet inside.

“You see Michelle was pregnant and I think Jonathan had planned to ask her to marry him, but he’d heard by then. The night Michelle disappeared, she’d come here to try and convince Jonathan that only he could be the father, and that was the last anyone saw of her.”

For a moment Haley’s throat shrunk and her mouth dried up. She could barely form words, but she had to ask. “You think Jonathan killed her in a fit of jealousy, and then you kept quiet so you could marry him?”

“I kept quiet because he agreed to marry me. If he hadn’t, I would have told the police and even his paid alibi couldn’t have kept him from falling under suspicion.”

“How did you know she was pregnant? That she came here to talk to Jonathan that night?”

“She was my best friend,” Lara said, grinding her cigarette into the blotter. “She told me everything.”

The words spoken so simply, so honestly, brought forth a fury she could hardly keep in check. “You’re certifiable. I’ve never known anyone like you.”

“We all do what we must to survive.”

“No, we don’t. We don’t lie for killers so we can marry them, we don’t let families suffer just so we can have what we want, and we don’t let innocent men be accused of murder simply because it suits our needs.”

Lara shrugged. “Needless to say, I will not admit to any of this if asked, but you might want to speak Erin.”

“My sister-in law?”

“Yes. She helped spread the rumor, hated Michelle and she was adamant that I not speak up for Dean. I suspect she may have even contacted Jonathan. I’m not sure why one helped the other, but I think she knows more than she’s admitting to. She might turn on Jonathan in an effort to protect herself.”

“You really know what buttons to press.”

A cold tight smile twisted Lara’s lips. “Especially, when dealing with someone so like myself.”

Haley stood and left the office without another word. A thin sheen a sweat covered her skin, and a sick feeling gripped her. Jonathan? Did she believe Lara? The woman was a survivor, she would tell Haley anything to protect herself. Even implicate her own husband—and Erin.

Still, Lara had to know Haley would ask Erin to confirm her story. Lara wouldn’t have used her sister in-law, and told Haley just how to manipulate her if she didn’t believe Erin would give credence to her tale.

Outside, the snow fell prettily to the ground. A soft blanket of loose snow had accumulated on the hood and windows of her car. She didn’t bother to dig out the snowbrush from the backseat. Instead, she wiped it away with her coat sleeve, eager to get home.

After sliding behind the wheel, she managed to start the car on her third try. She didn’t wait for the motor to warm up. She wanted to get out of here. Hopefully, by the time she reached town, and a traffic light, the engine would have warmed enough to keep from stalling.

She pressed her foot on the accelerator and sped along the winding drive to the road. How long had it taken Michelle to walk this distance all those years ago? Alone in the dark and cold. Or had she? Maybe she’d never left that house alive.

As the highway came into view, Haley slowed, but didn’t stop. She pulled out onto the empty road and turned toward Hareton. Right away, the car at the side of the road caught her eye. A black Maxima, just like Dean’s.

She swung onto the shoulder and stopped behind the parked vehicle. That couldn’t be Dean’s car. Not so soon. She checked her watch. It was almost four. She’d been with Lara much longer than she’d planned.

Okay, maybe the Maxima could be Dean’s, but why would he leave his car at the side of the road? Haley turned off the motor and opened the door. The wind, ferocious off the field to her right, nearly yanked the handle from her grip.

She stepped out into the deepening snow, already drifting onto the road and trudged toward the driver’s side window. Cupping both hands at her temples, she peered inside. Dean’s keys dangled from the ignition and his jacket lay in a heap on the passenger seat.

Her heart rate quickened. If he broke down, he wouldn’t leave his keys and certainly not his coat. She edged along the side of the car. Snow had accumulated on the cold hood. The engine must have been off for awhile.

She went back to the driver side and opened the door. As she leaned inside and reached for his coat, her jacket brushed the keys dangling from the ignition. They jingled ominously in the quiet. His laptop sat on the floor behind the passenger seat.

Fear swept through her colder than the winter wind. She lifted his coat and his wallet tumbled from the folds. Something was definitely wrong. He didn’t break down. He wouldn’t have left his coat, wallet, keys and computer in an unlocked car. What had happened?

She dropped the coat back onto the seat and backed out of the car when the toe of her boot rocked on something buried in the snow. She knelt and dug into the ice and wet until her fingertips closed around the small phone. Dean’s cell. She tried turning it on, but nothing happened. Maybe the wet had damaged it.

It didn’t matter. She needed help—now. She rushed back to her car, getting in behind the wheel, her head filled with images of Al’s battered corpse. Please, no. She couldn’t think that, but what had happened and how long ago? She needed to call the police, or someone.

Damn it, damn it, damn it. The phone Dean bought her sat in the box on her kitchen counter at home. She turned the key and the car made its familiar, dry, high-pitched warble, but the engine didn’t turn over.

“Start,” she ordered aloud, and tried the key again. And again. And again. But the engine wouldn’t start.

“Son of a bitch,” she yelled. Panic swelled inside her like a balloon. Her eyes filled with tears, as she struggled to clamp down on the fear and frustration.

Calm. She needed to calm down. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. On the exhale, she reached for the key and turned it once more. Nothing happened.

“Start, God damn it, start!” she screamed, stomping her foot on the gas and slamming the flats of her hands against the steering wheel. Still cursing, she reached for the key once more, but movement in the rearview mirror caught her attention. A car headed toward her.

She jumped out and waved frantically to flag down the driver. The battered pick-up truck rolled to a stop in front of Dean’s car. The truck’s door opened and Nate’s long, thin legs unfolded, stepping out onto the snow-covered shoulder. He smiled as he approached, adjusting the red baseball cap on his head.

Relief nearly made her knees buckle. “Nate, I need you to drive me into town. I think something’s happened to Dean.” The words fell from her mouth in a panicked rush.

“Haley, calm down.” Nate gripped her upper arms, his thumbs moving in slow circles over the puffy sleeves of her jacket. “What is it? Tell me what’s wrong?”

Haley took a step back. “I think Dean’s been hurt. Do you have a phone?”

“No, I don’t.”

“My car won’t start, can you give me a ride into town?” Haley asked.

“Of course.” Nate smiled. “Climb on in.”

Haley frowned as she walked behind the truck. Did he not get what she was saying? The strange, almost indulgent smile made her wonder.

As she moved between the back of the truck and the front of Dean’s car, movement in the truck’s cab made her turn. For an instant, barely a flash, Michelle stared out at her through the dirty glass.

Haley stopped dead, frozen where she stood. Did she actually see that? And if she did, what did it mean? She didn’t know, but the idea of climbing into that truck left her with a sick dread deep in the pit of her belly just like when she and Paige had been in her grandmother’s basement.

“Haley?”

“Dean’s phone,” she said, turning toward his car. “I could call for help from his phone.” She needed to get behind the wheel and get out of there. Damn, why hadn’t she remembered his car before?

“It’s been sitting in the snow, I doubt it works,” Nate said, his tone easy, conversational.

And how would you know that, Nate?
Paige had been right all along. She had to get to that car.

“Dean’s computer,” she blurted out. “And—and his wallet, they’re still inside his car. I don’t want anyone to steal them.”

She turned and started toward the passenger door of the Maxima willing her legs to work. Her movements felt stiff and awkward. Don’t let him notice.

Her heart thundered in her chest, echoing in her ears. Could he hear it? She reached the door. All she had to do was climb in and lock the door behind her. Closing her hand around the cold handle, she pulled it open. Almost there. Slowly she bent down—

“Don’t do this, Haley.”

He knew. She didn’t look back, just dove into the car. Closer than she realized, or faster than she gave him credit for, his hand locked around her arm like a vise. He yanked her hard, dragging her halfway out. With a scream, she gripped the edge of the seat with her free hand, her knuckles going white.

She kicked out at him wildly, screaming all the while, until her foot struck something solid and Nate let out a gasp. He released her, and for a moment she was free. She scrambled back inside car, but his hand tangled in her hair. Stinging needles pierced her scalp. She cried out as he pulled her back outside.

When he released her hair, she made another dive for the door, but the back of his hand caught her across the cheekbone, and sent her sprawling back into the snow. While fierce pain burst in her face and rocketed to her eye, she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. If she did, she was dead.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, her breath came in hoarse sobs as she struggled to her feet. He struck her again, this time in the mouth, knocking her back into the snow. She could taste her own blood.

Nate straddled her, pinning her arms to her sides with his knees. She looked into his face and saw nothing. His features were void of expression. He could have just as easily been mowing the lawn, or grocery shopping as beating her down at the side of the highway and preparing to kill her.

She screamed, high and bloodcurdling, into the wind. The only fight she had left, but it didn’t matter. There was no one to hear. No one to save her.

“Shut up,” Nate snarled, fumbling with something in his pocket. A white rag loomed over her before he pressed it against her face, her mouth, her nose. She couldn’t breathe, her lungs expanded until she thought they might explode.

Suffocating. Suffocating her. She choked on the sickly sweet stench, kicking and struggling until her world went black.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The wind howled and the snow fell heavily as Paige crept slowly along the highway. What a waste of an afternoon. After driving from one florist to another, in towns as far as an hour away, she’d returned empty-handed. But what had she expected? Did she honestly believe that someone would remember selling a dozen roses to the same person on two different occasions? Maybe not expected, but hoped.

Then, after a completely useless day, she’d wound up caught in the storm. She’d tried calling Haley twice so far and Dean’s cell phone once. No one answered. They were probably warm and cozy in bed together while she was stuck out here in the elements.

With a sigh, she pressed a little heavier on the accelerator. Instantly, the car’s back end swung out. Gritting her teeth, she let up on the gas, and brought the car under control. Christ, she wouldn’t get back until tomorrow at this rate.

Paige popped a cigarette into her mouth and lit the tip, adding to the ever-present haze of smoke. Annie Lennox sang “Winter Wonderland” from the speakers. This had to be some kind of cosmic joke. She was in her own Winter Wonderland. Snow as far as the eye could see, but there was nothing wonderful about it.

The pine trees marking the Williams’ property rose up on her left. Were she traveling at normal speed, she would be in Hareton in about twenty minutes, but unfortunately, traveling as she was, she probably wouldn’t be home for another three hours.

Stifling a scream of frustration, she pressed on the accelerator and again the back end skidded sideways. She let out a string of curses and swung the steering wheel into the skid. The car came around, but she over-corrected on the slick road, nearly sideswiping a car parked on the shoulder. She swore again and swung the steering wheel away from the car. Two cars, actually, parked end-to-end.

She stomped on the brake. Her car skidded slightly as she pulled in front. The first one, the one she’d nearly hit, was Haley’s. She’d have recognized that rust heap anywhere. But what in hell was that hunk-of-junk doing here? And where was Haley?

A cold ball of fear formed in her belly as she emerged from her car into the bitter wind. Her feet slipped and skidded on the slick ground. She half-walked half-slid to Haley’s car, her heart thundering against her chest, while something akin to raw panic seized her insides.

She passed a black car. Dean’s car. What had happened? Once next to Haley’s car, she opened the door and slid behind the wheel. She slammed the car door behind her, shutting out the wind and snow.

Haley’s key was still in the ignition and her purse forgotten on the passenger seat. Something was wrong.

Paige jumped out of Haley’s car and trotted to Dean’s. She’d been so stupid to trust him. How could she have left her sister with him? How could he have fooled her?

The door of Dean’s car was open also, and like Haley’s car, Dean’s keys were hanging in the ignition. His coat lay in a ball on the floor of the passenger side.

Where would he have taken her? And why would he leave his car? And his coat? Or could he be in trouble too?

She took a step back from the car. Hers were the only footprints in the rapidly accumulating snow. She moved to inspect the far side. Drifts from the wind off the field reached into the fenders. How long had the cars been here?

And what did she do now?

Trembling, as much from fear as cold, Paige hurried back to her car and got inside. She needed help. Her hands shook badly as she slipped a cigarette between her lips and lit the end. With the filter clenched between her teeth, she dialed Garret’s number, smoke filling the car’s small interior. When she opened the window a crack, the wind howled and whistled through the narrow gap like a ghost. She shivered.

“Hello.”

The sound of Garret’s voice turned her limbs weak with relief.

“Garret, it’s me. Something’s happened.”

“What is it? What’s wrong? Is it Mom?”

“No, worse.” Paige told Garret about finding Haley and Dean’s cars with their belongings still inside.

“Do you think he’s got her?” Garret asked his voice hard.

“I don’t think it’s Dean,” Paige said. “We’ve been doing our own little investigation, and I think someone just put a stop to it.”

“What kind of investigation? Does this have something to do with what happened to Al?”

“I don’t have time. Call the police and get them out looking for Haley and Dean. I’m going to stop in at Mom’s, then I’ll be over to see you.”

Paige didn’t wait for him to reply. She snapped her phone closed, tossed it onto the passenger seat and flicked her cigarette out the window. Then continued to crawl toward Hareton.

Dark silence greeted Paige when she finally returned to her mother’s house. Her shoulders ached with tension and her knuckles cramped from gripping the steering wheel.

As she entered the kitchen, fear’s icy claws dug deeper into her flesh. Not a light on, no TV, nothing. Just silence. She fumbled with the switch on the wall until at last the room filled with wondrous electric light.

Where was her mother?

“Oh, Christ,” Paige whispered.

On legs made of rubber, she left the kitchen and started up the stairs. As she climbed, her heart hammered in her chest, reverberating through her body. Light seeped out from under of Michelle’s closed door, but no sound, only chilling silence.

With a deep breath, Paige turned the knob and pushed the door open. She exhaled slowly and rolled her eyes. Her mother slept on the floor in a pile of Michelle’s clothes. Clothes that Paige had packed into boxes that morning. A bottle of rye, two-thirds the way through, tilted onto the pile. Nothing wrong. Everything here was just as it usually was. The typical end to a typical day for Claire Carling.

Paige knelt next to her mother and slid an arm under her shoulders. Her mother stirred and her eyes fluttered open.

“Paige,” she whispered, hoarse and dry. Her breath stunk of booze. Was it possible to get drunk from the fumes alone? If so, Paige could be in trouble.

“Come on, Mom, time for bed.” She helped Claire to her feet.

“I tried, Paige,” her mother said. Her voice cracked and tears filled her bloodshot eyes. “I’m so sorry. I tried, I really did.”

“I know.” She guided her mother down the hall.

“It’s just so hard,” Claire said as they entered her room. “To lose a child. Unless you have one you can’t know.”

Paige helped her mother into the unmade bed. She should make her eat something, but there wasn’t time. Missing one meal wouldn’t hurt. Besides, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

Her mother continued to prattle on, slurred and barely coherent as Paige pulled the blankets over her withered frame. She’d unplug the phones before leaving. The last thing Paige needed was Mrs. Yolken or some other do-gooder, calling and telling her mother Haley was missing. By now, Garret would have called the police and once that was done word would spread. The storm would slow them some, but nothing Mother Nature had to offer could hold back the tide of good gossip in Hareton.

“It’s like I told Nate when we looked at the pictures, until you have a child of your own, you can’t know what it is to lose them.”

As Paige yanked the phone cord from the wall, her mother’s words registered and a chill rippled down her spine.

“When did you say that to Nate?” Paige asked.

“We both agreed there was never a little girl more beautiful than Michelle. She was like an angel.”

“Mom, listen to me.” Paige grabbed her mother’s hands in hers, trying to penetrate the alcohol fog that encased her brain. “When did you look at pictures with Nate?”

“When he was here.”

“I know,” Paige ground out. “When was that? Was it before or after the memorial?”

“After,” Claire mumbled, struggling to keep her eyes from closing. “The day you were away.”

Nate here the same day she’d been away. Coincidence? The very next day her mother accused her of hiding her keys—and Haley’s break-ins started.

Paige looked down at her mother asleep in the darkness. If she lost Haley too, she would fall over the edge she’d been teetering on for years. Paige had to find Haley. Alive.

Dean woke on a hard, dirt floor. He shifted slightly and pain soared through his body. What the hell had happened? He forced his eyes open, but his vision blurred and his stomach turned dangerously. With a curse, he squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself not to throw up.

The agony receded some, except for the back of his head. With that kind of pain, surely his skull had cracked, and even now a fragment of bone stabbed his brain.

Memory returned slowly. Confused images that he couldn’t quite make sense of. He tried to focus, tried to piece it together, but the pain became too much. A thin layer of sweat dotted his forehead despite the cold seeping through his clothes. He slipped from consciousness back toward glorious pain-free oblivion, but somehow managed to stop himself. He couldn’t sleep. Time was short. He didn’t know how he knew that, he just did.

Where was he? How did he get here?

He forced his eyes open despite the bone-jarring pain in his head. Pale shafts of light seeped through gaps in the weathered plank wall facing him. He started to sit up, but his arms wouldn’t cooperate.

Thick twine dug into the skin at his wrists. His arms were bound behind him. His jaw throbbed around a filthy piece of cloth fit into his mouth like a horse’s bridle. Exhaling a deep breath, he relaxed and lowered his cheek to the gritty dirt floor.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing through his pain. The stink of rotting hay and animal feces assailed his nostrils and tickled the back of his throat. When the pain eased a little, he opened his eyes again. In the bleak shadowy darkness, he could make out the outline of empty horse stalls.

A barn. He was in a barn! The sense of triumph left him abruptly. There were hundreds of barns outside the town limits of Hareton. He could be anywhere.

Again he closed his eyes and tried to remember how he’d wound up tied and gagged in a barn.

Snow. He’d been driving in the snow. The beginning of a storm. He was about twenty minutes away from town when he came upon Nate’s pick-up at the side of the road.

Nate stood with the truck’s hood open and Dean assumed he was having car trouble. While Nate was no fan of his, at one time the man had been his boss. Dean could at least offer him the use of his phone or a ride back to town.

Dean stopped and climbed out of the car. As he approached, Nate let the heavy metal hood slam shut.

“Looks like she’s finally done for,” he said, his smile warm and disarming.

The other man’s reaction surprised and relieved Dean. “Can I help?”

“Do you have a phone?” Nate asked.

“Yeah, in the car.”

Nate followed Dean and hung back as Dean opened the door and bent inside. He grabbed the phone from the console and started to turn when pain exploded across the back of his head. A dull clang rang in his ears, but he couldn’t tell if it was real or just the reverberation from the blow. He staggered back, reaching for the oozing wound.

Nate had hit him.

The clang came again, then nothing until the hard barn floor and the agony of varying degrees rocketing through his body.

Nate murdered Michelle, but why? How? He’d likely been responsible for Darren’s missing first wife, too. But the question remained; why? Why kill Eleanor James? Why kill Michelle? And why club him over the head and dump him in a barn? Had Haley been right? Had he been the target all along?

From somewhere in the shadowy darkness, a heavy creak cut through the quiet followed by shuffling footsteps moving toward him. Dean closed his eyes once more and forced his body to relax. While feigning unconsciousness, he listened as the footsteps drew nearer then stopped.

Someone stood next to him, but didn’t speak or move. Rough hands tugged the gag from his mouth while Dean struggled to keep his breathing even and ignore the muffled thundering of his heart.

“I know you’re awake,” Nate said at last. “Open your eyes.”

Dean hesitated, keeping his eyes closed. Nate could be testing him. If he didn’t move and Nate no longer perceived him as a threat, maybe he would do something stupid like untie him. Or at the very least keep him alive long enough to figure out how to escape.

Nate shifted. The soles of his boots scraped against the dirt floor. Maybe he was leaving.

Mind numbing agony, sharp and intense, pinnacled in his middle, where Nate’s foot connected. The breath sucked up inside him, his eyes popped open and his vision grayed. He forced himself onto his shoulder, unable to keep his stomach contents at bay.

Still retching and choking, he edged away from the steaming puddle. Nate loomed over him, his usually mild mannered expression gone. His lips curled into a sneer and his eyes were wild and glazed.

Dean struggled to pull himself onto his knees. Whatever Nate had planned for him, Dean wouldn’t lie there and wait for it to happen.

“I knew you were awake,” Nate said. His voice was dull, almost robotic.

“Well,” Dean panted, still struggling to catch his breath. “If I wasn’t, I am now.”

“Shut up,” Nate snarled. The sudden flip in his voice, from quietly menacing to boiling rage shocked Dean enough to do just that. “I almost missed her because of you.”

“What?” A sinking feeling settled over him.

“I would’ve too if she hadn’t stopped for your car, and hers wasn’t such a piece of shit. I guess I should be thanking you.” A smile touched his lips, chilling Dean.

“Where is she?”

“You shouldn’t have come back, Lawson. You shouldn’t have tried to interfere. She was meant to be mine. Did you really think you could keep her from me? I love her.”

Hot and cold waves of panic washed over him. “Where is she?”

“That’s not for you to worry about.” He started to turn away.

“You’re lying,” Dean accused, desperate to keep Nate talking. He had to figure out where Haley was. “Why would you keep me alive? You’re using me for bait.”

Nate laughed a rich chuckle. “Oh, you’re a dead man, Lawson, a living corpse. I’m just keeping you alive in case I need you. You were so helpful when Michelle died.”