One True Heart (7 page)

He shrugged. “I've already talked about the weather today and I don't care what your politics are. I haven't seen a movie in a year, so that topic's out.”

“So, what does that leave?”

“Well, later tonight I don't plan to talk to you at all. I think I've made that clear, but for now I'd like to know why you came back here to Harmony. I'm a good judge of people and you don't seem to belong here. Not your style, I'm guessing.”

Millanie almost laughed at him. Folks who said they were good judges of people rarely were. So, either the professor was simply making conversation, or he tended to lie to himself.

The waitress delivered baskets of chicken fingers and sweet potato fries. A couple walked by and stopped to talk to Drew about how the fishing was down at the lake. One of her McAllen cousins rushed out of the bar and said she'd heard Millanie was back in town. They rehashed everything they could remember about being in the third grade together. Millanie had the feeling her cousin would have joined them for dinner if Drew had suggested it. Thank goodness, the professor was silent.

By the time the cousin finally went back inside, the deck had filled with people. Millanie forced herself not to study each one. This wasn't the army. These people didn't pose a threat. This was Harmony. She could relax. The man she'd be looking for wouldn't hang out here. He'd more likely be at the country club or at a fund-raiser.

Drew disappeared to get two more beers, and a slender woman in her early twenties with long black curly hair dashed over and plopped in his vacant chair. “You've got to help me,” she whispered, like a spy from an old suspense movie.

“You're Drew's sister? Kare, right?” Millanie had no doubt. The girl looked like she still believed in unicorns.

“How'd you know?” Wide brown eyes stared at her in surprise.

Millanie played along. “I've got a bit of the gift myself, you know. I can sense things before they're said.”

Kare bounced in the chair, making the twenty-strand necklace she wore jingle like tiny Christmas bells. “That's grand. We need to stick together. There are many who don't appreciate our talents. I grew up an only child of two people who didn't like company dropping by. Would you believe I thought everyone had gifts, except my dad, until I got to college and found out most people don't?”

“I understand.” Millanie said what she knew the girl wanted to hear. She'd learned years ago that if you want the truth out of anyone, simply mirror what they are. Everyone automatically likes someone who understands them. “Now, how can I help?”

The little sister of Drew Cunningham leaned close. “Johnny Wheeler is about to swing for something he didn't do. I read his palm. He couldn't have killed anyone. It would have shown up on his hands. But everyone thinks he offed Scarlet, so he's going down the river for sure for murder one. I think the one thing slowing down his trial is the fact they haven't found her body, but in a few days when it starts to smell, Johnny will be officially charged.”

Millanie tried to piece together facts within her rambling. Kare had definitely watched one too many prison movies. A dozen questions came to mind and she had no idea where to start. Finally, she settled on, “Who'd Johnny Wheeler kill again?”

“Well, they say he killed his wife, Scarlet, and maybe her lover, Max Dewy. Half the folks argue that one because most think Max is gay, so that cuts him out as her lover. But Johnny didn't kill them even if his own brother admitted he saw Johnny the night she disappeared. The brother said he'd looked like he'd been in a fight and was carrying a shovel with fresh dirt on it.” Kare finally took a breath and added, “Two kids were parked out across from his place and swear they saw him bury something. It's hard to miss a big guy like Johnny Wheeler, even in the dark. They said what he tossed in the hole wasn't very big, but Scarlet was a little bitty thing. She was thirty and still getting carded.”

“How can I help?” Millanie said again. She considered
that this might be some kind of bar game she didn't know about just to see how gullible the newcomer was.

Kare looked really worried when she begged, “Tell my brother he has to help me this time. This is real. A man could die and I'm the only one who believes he's innocent. Drew's got brains. He'll think of something.”

“Get out of my chair.” Drew's voice boomed from just behind Millanie. “I'm on the first date I've had in years and you're not invited to join us. Whatever this week's crisis is can wait, Kare.”

She flashed her brown eyes at Millanie, begging one more time for help.

Millanie nodded and patted the girl's hand as if silently swearing to oblige.

Kare jumped up. She kissed her brother on the cheek and danced away as if they'd somehow solved her problem.

Drew sat down and offered Millanie one of the drinks. “I warned you to stay away from my sister.”

“It wasn't easy to run with this leg.” She saw the lift of his lip and knew he wasn't serious. “You always solve her problems, don't you?”

“It's my mission in life, it seems. Last week she was convinced there was a ring of catnappers running wild in the streets. A week before that she thought she met a man who didn't have a heart. I mean really didn't have one. She claimed she'd read about heart thieves in an old book. Last month I put a dozen holes in her wall because she swore she heard something trapped inside. Now you know why I don't have time for TV or movies.”

“Or dates, apparently.”

He shook his head. “Not dating was by choice.” He grabbed a fry and pointed it toward her. “Now, answer my question. Why'd you come back to Harmony?”

Their meals were half eaten since he'd asked. He waited. She stalled by acting like she was starving.

Finally, when all her chicken was gone, she said, “I don't know why I came back. I lived here as a kid and I guess it's as close to being home as anywhere. My roots are here. My
great-great-grandparents started this town.” She couldn't tell him she'd returned here simply because she had nowhere else to go.

He ate a few bites without speaking, then said more to himself than to her, “That's not the answer, but it'll do for now.” He pushed his food aside and added, “You want to go for a ride?”

Millanie tilted her head and studied him. “What about your sister's emergency?”

“I talked to a friend about it when she woke me up from my afternoon nap. The law doesn't think Wheeler killed his wife. In fact, she did a pretty good job of mentally beating him up before she left. If he hadn't said he buried her, the sheriff wouldn't have arrested him. But it's hard to ignore a confession and everyone's talking.”

“Small towns.” She'd never understood them. “I remember some of my mother's stories about growing up here, but we moved before I paid much attention.”

“You got to love them. They have two jars on the bar for money. One to bet on how he killed her and the other to help pay for his defense.” Drew put his arm around her to help her up, as casually as if he'd done it a hundred times. “Let's get out of here before my sister comes back.”

The wind had died and the night was warm and rich with the aroma of summer. He drove her through the streets of Harmony. Neither talked much. She pointed out a few places she remembered. He gave no hint of where he grew up.

Finally, she asked, “You said you didn't date, so why me? Why now?”

“Maybe I haven't run across a woman who had what I wanted?”

She laughed. “What? Two lips?” She liked the low laugh he had when she caught him off guard.

“No, it's more than that. I don't know what, but you have something, lady. Something very rare. Maybe something only I see.”

She thought of saying that whatever she had must be very rare because no one else had ever mentioned it. Maybe he
was a romantic, looking for a magic that wasn't there. The stars weren't aligning for love. They were simply two people who were probably a little lonely, a little bored.

When they made it back to the bed-and-breakfast, Millanie wasn't sure what to do. He walked her to the porch, held her back steady as she climbed the steps, and opened the front door for her. A perfect gentleman.

“Want to come in for a glass of wine? I know where Martha Q hides the bottles.”

“No, thanks,” he answered politely. “I've a full day tomorrow.”

She almost asked,
Doing what?
but she didn't know him well enough yet. Maybe she never would. She now had a mission in Harmony, and getting to know him would just be a distraction.

He opened the door to her room, then stepped back.

She walked through and turned to say good night. The words died in her throat when his hand gently brushed her arm.

“Put the crutches down, Millie. I'll hold you up.” His hand slid along her waist. “We've finally gotten to the reason I came by tonight.”

She thought of making a joke or acting surprised, but one look in his eyes told her the man was dead serious. Propping the crutches between the door facing and the windowsill, she waited.

His hands moved to the small of her back as he closed the few inches between them. He moved against her, his mouth brushing her ear as he whispered, “Now is the part where I kiss your socks off.”

Millanie closed her eyes, realizing she'd been waiting for another kiss since the moment he'd left Friday night. But he seemed in no hurry as his face brushed against her hair, and then he slowly kissed his way down her throat. By the time he finally covered her lips with his, she was starving for the promised kiss.

This one wasn't sweet or tender but hungry with need. Something deep inside her responded and the kiss turned
wild. It washed over her like a storm, leaving her shaken and starving for something she'd never felt. She couldn't pull away. She wouldn't let go. She wanted to be closer to him. She wanted more.

Then, as suddenly as the storm had started, he broke the kiss and straightened, their bodies still touching, their breaths mingling. If his hands hadn't been holding her, she felt like she might melt to the floor, boneless.

His eyes reflected her feelings. Shock. Passion. The edge of control. She watched as he silently fought to rule his emotions.

She knew the minute he won. His hands were still firm at her back, but they no longer caressed her.

“Do all men go mad when they kiss you?” The question snapped in the air like an accusation.

“No,” she answered, surprised at his sharpness. The predictable professor was losing control and he didn't like it. If she hadn't been trying to untangle her own feelings, she might have found the situation funny. “You're the only one. Tell me, does it happen often, this going mad?”

“Never,” he answered.

She reached for her crutches as he continued. “I'm not planning to get involved. This is . . . I'm not really . . .”

She got the message. “Look, Drew, I'm not in a place where I can start a relationship either. I don't plan to be in town that long. How about we just be friends?”

“We're not friends now,” he corrected as his hands left her side.

“True.” She shrugged. “Okay, how about we not be friends. If we just happen to run into each other again, we'll just kiss and part. Not friends or lovers, just kissing buddies.”

He relaxed, then took a step backward as if in fear they might start a fire, again. “If that didn't sound so ridiculous, I'd agree to it.”

“Me, too,” she answered as she closed her door without saying good-bye.

T
UESDAY

H
ARMONY
C
OUNTY
J
AIL

When Johnny Wheeler was told for the tenth time that he had a visitor, he almost refused to leave his cell. He'd been at the county jail for less than twenty-four hours and half the people in town had dropped by to talk to him.

Every lawman within a hundred miles drove over to test out his interrogation skills trying to crack the case. They were calling it a “crime of passion.” Johnny spent an hour trying to tell them there had been no passion between him and Scarlet for six months but realized “a crime without passion” didn't sound much better.

Anyone related to him rushed in to cry and ask why. Apparently, he was the first Wheeler to show outlaw blood since his great-great-uncle rode with the James Gang. It seemed no one from his brother to his preacher thought he was innocent, and all said that even if Scarlet deserved to be punished for what she did, he wasn't the one who should have pulled the trigger, or slit her throat, or smothered her
with a pillow. Wendell seemed to think he was playing charades. Every time the guard turned away, he'd make some kind of killing motion and wiggle his eyebrows, expecting Johnny to nod when he guessed right.

Johnny had a feeling there were bets on at Buffalo's Bar about how he killed his wife. One of his aunts even dropped by to tell him the stories she'd heard about Scarlet while in the beauty shop. Max Dewy wasn't the first “friend” his wife had enjoyed. Dozens, apparently. Aunt May gave details as if somehow the news that he was not only dumb but blind would make Johnny feel better about murdering his wife.

“Mr. Wheeler,” the young deputy said. “You all right?”

Johnny wanted to scream
No
, but he didn't think that would help much unless he planned to go with an insanity plea. “I'm fine.”

“Did you hear me say you had a visitor?”

“I heard. Is it another relative?”

“No.”

“A lawman?”

“No. I don't think so.”

Johnny stood, trying to decide if he wanted to talk to anyone else. This was his last question. “It's not Tyler Wright from the funeral home?”

“No.” The deputy smiled. “It's a pretty young woman with long black hair and a skirt that looks like it's made out of scarves. Real sweet, but she seemed a little scatterbrained.”

“Oh.” Johnny moved toward the open cell door. “Must be my lawyer.”

He walked into the visitation room. Harmony's jail didn't have the glass windows and telephones like he'd always seen on TV. All they had was a long table. He'd been told to sit at one end and to make no attempt to touch the visitor. His Aunt May had paid no attention to the rule; she'd bolted for him and gotten in a good hug before they pulled her off. Then she had to be patted down twice because of spontaneous hugging. She hadn't looked like she minded.

The opposite door opened and the fortune-teller slipped
in. The only way Kare Cunningham had helped him was that he now knew what
empathetic
meant. It meant he cared. Scarlet had been right about that one; he rarely cared about what she was talking about, and to her that must have translated to meaning that he didn't care about her.

The fortune-teller opened the door far enough to hurry through as if she feared one of the murderers imprisoned might accidentally slip out if she left extra room.

“Hello, John,” she said in that low bedroom voice as she sat down at the other end of the table.

He had the strangest urge to stretch out his hands to her, but he didn't. “If you've come to tell me I'm in trouble, Kare, it's too late. Apparently my wife and her lover disappeared without closing out their hotel bill and everyone seems to think I'm to blame.”

“Why you?” she said simply.

“It was my credit card they left on file. Problem was their shopping spree had already pushed the limit of the card. So now I not only have to pay the bill, but I'm going to jail for life for murder.” His smile didn't feel right. “Seems a little unfair when I didn't get to have any of the fun.”

“You had nothing to do with killing her. If she's dead, that is. I can't answer to that since I've never seen her lifeline.” Kare fanned both hands in front of her face. “If she ever shows up, bring her by and I'll tell you how long she'll live. Well, not exactly. We don't deal in dates.”

“I doubt we'll be going out together again,” he said, wondering why this fairylike creature spoke in plural like she was sitting with a crowd at the other end of the table.

“You never know. Life takes its own turns and twists.” Kare smiled as if she'd just remembered the thought for the day.

He looked directly at her. If it were another time or place he would have thought her pretty, but flirting with a space case while you're handcuffed didn't seem like it would be a relationship going anywhere. “You sure about that, lady? You seem to be the only one who doesn't think I belong here.”

She shook her head, sending wild hair bouncing around her shoulders. “I know you didn't ask me to, but I read your past. No murders behind you. I would have seen it in your palms.”

“Great, I've got one witness I can count on. The way my luck is running they'll probably hack off my hands and file them as evidence, but I'd appreciate it if you'd tell them.”

“Oh, I wouldn't testify. It's against our code. Too many skeptics. Something we never do.”

“Then why did you come?” He was in far too much trouble to even joke around about how their few minutes together had seemed like a beginning to something there right before the handcuffs clicked around his wrists and she fainted.

She looked straight at him with those big brown eyes and said simply, “You forgot to pay me.”

Johnny stood and walked back to his cell, thinking he'd give up on women, and relatives, and all thought he'd had of improving himself. Maybe he could talk the county into putting him to sleep the way they do old dogs.

When he stepped in his cell, he noticed a package wrapped loosely in brown paper on his bunk. “What's this?” he asked the deputy.

The young deputy smiled. “A gift for you.”

“You shouldn't have.”

The deputy looked embarrassed. “It's a book. I had to open it. The girl you just talked to brought it to you.”

Johnny pulled the paper aside and turned the well-worn book over in his hands.
Gulliver's Travels.
What a strange gift to give a man going nowhere.