Secrets Rising (35 page)

The kind comment was like a knife through her heart. Better he should turn and walk away than offer to be just her friend after the passion they'd shared, the passion that had meant so much to her and so little to him.

"We're probably going to need it." Doris yanked open the back door and slid in. "We've got to get out to the old house where my son was killed. It may already be too late. Turn left at the next street and I'll direct you. It's about five miles out of town. Don't worry about speed limits. The entire police force is about to be turned upside down."

"Mary Jordan, your mother," Doris continued evenly. "She's going to kill Charles Morton and probably get herself killed. Turn right at the top of that hill."

"My mother?" Rebecca repeated, unable to comprehend Doris' second statement about Charles Morton until she could grasp the concept of Mary Jordan as her mother. "Mary hates me! She won't even speak to me or shake my hand!"

Doris smiled sadly. "Your mother loves you very much, enough to give you up so you'd be safe. She's spent the last twenty-nine years thinking of you and missing you and living in constant fear trying to protect you."

"Trying to protect me? What are you talking about?"

"From Charles Morton. He wants you dead."

Rebecca's heart clenched painfully as if it would shrink to a hard, shriveled hickory nut. "So he is my father," she said dully.

"We can't be sure, but he thinks he is and as long as you're alive, you could prove he raped your mother. You could end his career." Doris spoke briskly and without emotion as though she could thus make her words less painful. "After I talked to you, I called Mary and told her what happened in Dallas. I told her it was time to stop running and fight back. She agreed, but when she got to my house, she gave me two letters, one for you and one for the authorities. She told me not to open either of them until she got back, but I opened the one for the police as soon as she was out the door."

She handed two envelopes to Rebecca who took them with fingers so numb she feared the paper rectangles would slip through.

"It's the whole story," Doris went on, "including the fact that after I called her, she called Charles and told him to meet her at that old house. She lied to him and said you'd be there, too, so she could get him out there. She knows you'll never be safe as long as he's alive. She has Ben's revolver. It's the gun she used to scare off Charles the night he pushed you into the swimming pool."

"She—" Rebecca licked her dry lips, but her tongue was dry, too. Sandpaper on sandpaper. Confusion swirled around and through her at this new picture of her mother...and the confirmation that the man who might be her father was trying to kill her.

"Mary was there," Jake said. "That's how you already knew about the incident the next day."

"She was there. She called your room to get you down to the pool when she saw Rebecca sitting alone. She was afraid Charles would try something, and he did. All these years she's devoted her life to making Charles believe you were dead, Rebecca, and then you two showed up asking questions. She tried to warn you off the first day with that phone call, but you're as stubborn as she is."

"The snake?" Rebecca asked, barely able to squeeze out the two words.

Doris nodded. "She had Lucinda do that. They went to school together. She also had Lucinda steal the dress because she was afraid I'd remember it. But nothing worked. You wouldn't leave. When she found out you were going to stay with me, she told me the whole story. I'll tell you as much as I can on the way, but if I don't finish or if anything happens to me, the rest is in those envelopes."

Between giving directions to Jake, Doris told Rebecca an unbelievable horror story of Mary's rape, her husband's death and Charles' determination that Rebecca was his daughter and that he had to kill her to protect himself.

As Rebecca listened, her stomach tightened, and she thought she was going to be sick. The nightmare Mary Jordan had suffered, the inhuman cruelty of Charles, all the things that had gone on around her without her ever knowing. She had, indeed, led a sheltered life.

"There's the place," Doris said grimly. "Or what's left of it after so many years, and there's Mary's car."

Jake swung his car into the weeds that surrounded the ruins of an old house. He leaned over, opened the glove compartment and took out a holster then deftly extracted the black revolver. "Stay here," he ordered, opening his door.

For an instant, Rebecca sat paralyzed, but then she scrambled out, too. She had to meet the mother who'd loved her so much after all, so much she was ready to sacrifice her own life. And she wanted to see Charles Morton again, to scratch out his pale eyes, to slap his arrogant face, to cut off his testicles for what he'd done to so many women.

Jake shot her a scowling glance.

"I told you, I don't take orders," she said.

The tall weeds scratched at her bare legs and hampered her progress, but she pushed forward determinedly, reaching the ramshackle porch at almost the same time as Jake.

She entered the open doorway beside him.

"Oh, my God! What are you doing here?" Mary stepped from the shadows in a back corner of the room, one hand clutching her throat, the other behind her...holding Ben's gun, no doubt. Late afternoon sun streamed through a hole in the roof, illuminating her light hair and horror stricken face. "Get out of here! Doris, what have you done? Charles will be here any minute!"

Doris moved in front of them, stepping carefully over the broken boards in the floor. "What have I done? Brought your daughter to you. Come and meet her, talk to her. Hold her for the first time in twenty-nine years."

Mary moved sideways, away from Doris. A tear rolled down her cheek as the horror in her eyes turned to yearning. "Please leave. Now. Before he gets here."

"We'll face him together, Mary, contact the authorities, make him pay for what he's done."

"The authorities?" Mary gave a quick, sharp imitation of a laugh. "Which authorities shall we contact, Doris? The police? He has something on at least half the force, maybe more. Farley's been solidly behind him ever since he made the evidence against Farley's son disappear in that drug case a few years ago."

"Farley hates him. Everybody does. Somebody has to be the first to speak up, and that somebody needs to be you."

"Farley may hate him, but I'm sure Charles still has that evidence. Even Lucinda was terrified to help me at the motel because Charles keeps her in line by threatening to send her mother back to Mexico. Farley won't say anything. He'll look out for his son, and you can't blame him for that." She darted a quick glance at Rebecca, then focused on Jake. "If you care anything about my daughter, you've got to get her out of here!"

Rebecca whirled toward Mary in time to see her lower the gun to her side and heave a sigh of relief. Doris rushed to her daughter-in-law, supporting her as she sagged.

Jake shoved his own gun into his belt and sprinted toward Charles.

"Stop right there." Farley Gates, clutching an automatic in both hands, stood behind Charles who was, amazingly, struggling to his feet.

Jake came to a halt, one hand reaching for his weapon.

"Don't even think about it unless you want to die," Charles advised, rubbing his chest as he eased forward and yanked Jake's gun out of his belt. "As I was saying, the whole family's here, except you're not really family, Doris. Don't you know that Mary's bastard is no relation to you?"

"Dear God," Mary exclaimed. "You really are a monster. How can anybody survive six bullets?"

Charles smiled. "Mary, Mary, Mary. Did you really think I'd come here unprotected after you tried to shoot me at the swimming pool?" He thumped his chest. "Bullet-proof vest. The policeman's best friend. Those bullets packed quite a wallop. I'll be bruised and sore for days, but no real harm done. You always have been naive. That's how you got to me that day your little bastard was created." He nodded toward Rebecca. "I gave her life and it's my right to end it. Charles Morton giveth and Charles Morton taketh away."

Mary, Jake and Doris moved as a unit to stand in front of Rebecca.

"Oh, stop the heroics," Charles ordered. "You're all going to die in an unexplained fire so what difference does it make who goes first? Farley, where's that gasoline?"

They were all going to die. Somehow the threat didn't hold the power it might have. If this man was her father, Rebecca didn't care if she died.

But Mary was her mother. Mary had given her up to save her life, had tried to commit murder for her. That courageous blood ran through her own veins, and she wasn't going to surrender easily. There had to be something she could do.

"How long do you think you can get away with this?" Jake demanded. "How long is it going to be before somebody takes you down? You can't control people with threats forever."

"Sure I can."

Rebecca pushed between Jake and Mary even as Jake tried to restrain her. "I'm not your daughter," she said quietly. "I couldn't be. I'm nothing like you."

"She's not your daughter," Mary echoed. "Look at her. Look at Doris. She has Doris' eyes, Ben's nose. She's Ben's daughter!"

"Mary, what was Ben's blood type?" Jake asked.

"A positive," Doris answered for her. "I just realized who you reminded me of the first time I met you, Rebecca. Myself when I was young."

"Mary? Blood type?" Jake continued.

"O positive," Mary said.

"Rebecca's A positive, Charles." Jake wrapped his arm tightly about her waist. "Like her father. Her mother's O positive, and you're B negative. No way can she be your daughter. Why don't you just turn around and walk out of here before you do something you'll regret?"

Farley Gates came back with a large red can and began to splash liquid around the floor and walls. The acrid smell of gasoline permeated the air.

"Regrets are a waste of time and energy. I don't regret our afternoon together, Mary, not even considering all the problems it's caused me. The only thing I regret is not doing away with another idiot woman back in Ohio. She did what you tried to do to me. Her brat ruined my life. I'd be president now if not for that bitch. I had to start all over and do it the hard way, but I'll still get there in spite of you fools. And, believe me, I damn sure won't regret getting rid of any of you."

Jake folded his arms across his chest and looked down at the floor. "I'll take Charles, you get Gates," he whispered.

She gave a single, brief nod. As if she could read his mind, she knew exactly what Jake wanted. Charles had backed him into a corner, told him they were going to die no matter what. When Jake went for Charles, she was to tackle Gates, an easier target since both of his hands were occupied with the can of gasoline while his gun hung in a holster at his side.

"At least let Doris go." Jake moved forward a step, gesturing with one hand toward Doris. "She has nothing to do with any of this. Your problem is with Mary and Rebecca and now with me."

"I'm sick of all of you." Charles cocked the hammer of Jake's revolver, and Jake lunged forward, tackling the mad man and throwing him to the floor just as the gun went off.

A loud whoosh sounded from across the room as Rebecca charged Gates. He dropped the can, staring toward the column of flames sparked by Charles' bullet.

Ignoring the burst of searing heat, Rebecca flew into him, adrenaline lending her strength as she scratched his fleshy face with one hand and fumbled for his pistol with the other.

"I've got his gun." Doris stood beside her, calm voice was audible above the steadily increasing roar of the fire. Rebecca stumbled backward, away from Gates.

Doris' hand was steady as she held the gun aimed at Gates. "Move toward the door and don't think because I'm an old woman that I won't shoot you. I've accumulated a lot of anger the last few days, and I'd love to have a target for it. Come on, Rebecca. We've got to get out of here."

Heat scorching her face and arms, smoke searing her lungs, Rebecca spun around to see if Jake was all right.

As the flames greedily devoured the dry wood of the old house, Morton rolled to his side on the floor. Jake stood with his gun in one hand.

Mary kicked Charles' shoulder. "Damn you!" She kicked his head as he folded himself into a ball, his hands grasping his ankles, tugging at one of his pant legs. "Damn you, damn you, damn you! All these years separated from my daughter because you're a crazy, mean bastard! Damn you!"

"Get out!" Rebecca yelled, grabbing her hand. "This whole place is going to collapse on us any minute now!"