The Last Execution (10 page)

“He’s fine.” Her dad gave her a reassuring smile. “He’s playing his Indy 500 game on the den television.”

“He didn’t hear you come in. Not with those headphones on.” Ever the calm one, her mom had cut the legs of her husband’s jeans open. A bottle of peroxide, cotton balls, and bandages sat on the nightstand.

“He’s not hurt?” For the first time since her mother’s phone call, Leigh breathed without the sharp pain in her chest.

“Not a scratch.” Her dad smiled up at her.

“You don’t look so good.” Leigh dropped to her knees. Her heart unfolded and relaxed. Tears held inside trickled unchecked down her cheeks.

“I’m fine.” He moved over, making room for her to sit.

“What happened?”

“Ethan landed on the grass carpet our neighbor two houses down calls his front yard. Cushioned his fall. I unfortunately skidded a few feet on the pavement.” Her dad grimaced while Mom scrubbed his knee. Based on his expression, her treatment wasn’t too gentle.

“Poor Dad.” Leigh gripped his hand, breathing a sigh of relief. “I still don’t understand.”

“Ethan was doing great. I was running along beside him holding on to the back of the seat when Old Lady Ferguson backed out of her driveway without looking. She shouldn’t be allowed behind the wheel. We’re damn lucky she ran over the bike instead of us.”

“Leland. Your language.” Leigh’s mother dabbed at the raspberry on her husband’s knee.

“Ow.” He yanked the wad of cotton away from his wife, pushed himself up on the bed, and doctored his own scrape. “If June Ferguson had looked behind her, I wouldn’t have had to try and pull Ethan to a stop. And we wouldn’t have fallen.”

Leigh rose from the bed. Anger which followed relief arrived, and the storm in her head worsened. “Why didn’t you talk to me before you bought him a bike?”

He tapped his chest with his finger. “I didn’t buy the damn thing. Ask your mother. We assumed you did and forgot to tell us.”

Her mother’s eyebrows rose skyward. “You mean the bicycle was delivered to the wrong house?”

“Sounds like it to me, Mom.”

Leigh gently pushed her dad back down on the pillows and inspected the bloody spot on his forehead. Her mother handed her a cotton ball soaked with peroxide, and Leigh dabbed at the dried blood.

“No permanent damage was done to anything except the bike.”

Leigh shook her head when he tried to rise.

“You rest. I’ll check on Ethan—” Leigh groaned.

“What is it?” her mother asked.

“My ride. I left him outside in his car.” Leigh and her mother walked down the hall to the front door. J.T. wasn’t in his Corvette. Her lungs constricted, and she turned back to her mother. “He’s here somewhere.”

“He? You brought a man home with you?” A smile spread across her face.

“One of the agents drove me.” Leigh walked to the back of the house to the den. She stopped in her tracks in the doorway. Her mother, trailing too closely, bumped into her back.

“Oh. My. God,” Leigh muttered.

“What is it?” Her mother pushed her way around in front.

Sitting on the floor, propped against the couch, J.T. and Ethan sat side by side. Each held a toy steering wheel. A racetrack filled the big screen TV. Both man and boy appeared to be oblivious to their surroundings. Suddenly, the number eleven car hit the wall and burst into flames. J.T. collapsed back on the couch. Ethan threw his hands in the air celebrating victory. His laughter filled the room.

“You got that right,” her mother whispered.

“Got what right?” Leigh’s heart did something weird, a cartwheel or maybe skipped a beat at the scene in front of her. Nothing brightened her day like her son’s laughter. J.T., his black hair mussed, his white shirt wrinkled, and enough white teeth showing to make a toothpaste commercial, took her breath away.

“Oh. My. God,” her mom repeated, fanning herself with her hand. “You arrested a movie star and brought him home with you.”

“A coworker,” Leigh repeated. “And I left him in the car.”

J.T. turned his head in her direction. The smile he’d shared with Ethan faded. J.T. removed the headphones and unfolded his muscular body from the floor in a hurry. The starched white shirt was realigned, his hair pushed back into place, and J.T. crossed the room to meet her mother.

“J.T. Noble, Mrs. McBride. Ethan says your husband’s okay. I’m glad.” He barely released her hand in time to maintain his balance when Ethan landed against his leg.

“It’s Sara. Thank you for driving my daughter.”

“Not a problem.”

Leigh ruffled Ethan’s hair, grateful her mother hadn’t blinked at J.T.’s scar. God knows what Ethan had said. She’d talk with him later. “You’ve been entertaining Mr. Noble?”

“And I won,” Ethan exclaimed, looking up at his new friend. “Wanna go again?”

“Not a good idea. Right?” J.T.’s hunter green gaze turned toward Leigh.

“Can we, Mom? Puleeze.”

“Don’t I at least get a kiss?” Leigh’s mind spun at J.T. and Ethan’s instant bonding.

“Sure.” Ethan tiptoed and puckered for a quick buzz. Then he was back with both arms wrapped around J.T.’s leg.

J.T. squatted down eye level with Ethan. “You beat me fair and square. My pride can’t take another hit today. Maybe another time.” He stood and turned to Leigh. “I’d suggest you call it a day, but your car is in Atlanta.”

“I’d better stay. Make sure Dad’s not hiding a knot on his head.” Her attempt at humor fell flat as neither her mother nor J.T. laughed. “Mom can drive us. Thanks again for bringing me.”

J.T. nodded once and shifted from one foot to the other. He showed clear signs of being uncomfortable.

“See you tomorrow. Nice to have met you, ma’am.”

He shook her mom’s hand, didn’t comment on the idol-worship expression on her face, and then knelt back down with Ethan.

“Come on, little man. No pouting. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ethan pushed out the words over pursed lips.

Leigh walked J.T. to the front door. Time to move him along before her dad hobbled out into the hall and invited him to stay for dinner.

“I’m glad everybody’s okay.”

“Thanks for everything.”

“No problem.” He thumbed under her eyes, drying left over tears. “Ethan’s a good kid.” He turned and walked to his car.

Standing on the porch with the trees and honeysuckle scenting the spring afternoon, Leigh breathed. The crisis was over. All the possibilities, the things that could’ve happened slammed into her. She trembled. Her legs liquefied. She eased herself down on the porch swing while J.T. drove away. She touched her cheek, remembering the tenderness of his large hands.

Questions were sure to come after Olivia and Romeo asked him about this afternoon. Leigh had nothing to be ashamed of, but more often than not, people treated her differently after they heard her story. Telling them she was a single mother would have to suffice. She didn’t want pity or scorn from J.T. or his coworkers. Hell, exactly what did she want from him?

Her heart shriveled in her chest. What kind of failure was she? If she didn’t have the nerve to face people, how would she answer Ethan’s questions? Someday her evasive answers wouldn’t satisfy him. What words should she use? Her heart ached, would he hate her when he learned he was a child of rape? She’d never once considered abortion. Had loved her son from the moment she learned she was pregnant. After all, none of what happened was his fault.

Her mother stepped out on the porch. Her expression more relaxed now the crisis had passed.

“I’m sorry I gave you a scare. Your father’s injuries weren’t as bad as I first thought.”

“You did the right thing.” Leigh scooted over on the swing to make room.

“What happened to J.T.’s face?”

“I don’t ask personal questions, and he hasn’t volunteered information. I’m guessing he was injured while in the Marines.” Her stomach tightened. “I hope Ethan didn’t say anything rude. I’ll talk to him tonight.”

“I’m sure if he did, J.T. understood.” Her mother sighed. “Scar or not, he’s gorgeous.”

Leigh chuckled. “Does Dad know you lust after younger men?”

“As if he doesn’t light up when Angelina Jolie comes on the screen.”

“Information I don’t need to know.” Leigh rocked for a second, enjoying her mother’s company. “Where’s Ethan?”

“Admiring your dad’s bandages.”

“Where is this mysterious bike?”

“In the garage.”

“It just showed up?” She steadied the swing, chills crawling across her skin.

“We picked Ethan up at noon. Today was an early out. Remember? The darn thing was parked in the driveway when we got home.”

The delivery with no receipt or signature required was a huge red flag. This anonymous gift, appearing out of thin air with no paperwork was no accident. “I want to take a look before you take us to my car.”

Her mom stood, tugging Leigh off the swing. “Why don’t you two stay the night? You both have clean clothes here. Call Dede. Tell her we’re taking Ethan to school tomorrow. I’ll drop you at work.”

“Hmm.” Leigh nodded. She had no doubt who was responsible for the bike. Was it Jason’s intention to hurt Ethan? Or was this another way to terrorize her. Either way, he knew way too much about her and her family. Her lungs constricted. Getting a breath became difficult.

****

Thursday, April 29, 4:00 p.m.

J.T. ignored the entrance ramp to the freeway and drove straight across the overpass into Newnan. Separated by Interstate 85, Peachtree City and Newnan had grown to the point the natives weren’t sure where one started and the other ended. No way he’d get this close to his grandmother’s house without stopping. Luckily, Nana never expected him to call ahead. The trip west wove through the older part of town. A few antebellum homes remained single-family residences. Most had been converted into bed and breakfasts. Those old houses were a source of pride to his grandmother. She used to pick him up after school and drive through this area on the way home. She’d tell Newnan’s history of how the area was largely untouched by the Civil War due to Newnan’s status as a hospital city. Back then, he’d gripe about hearing the same stories over and over. Now, he missed that connection with his grandmother.

Leigh having a son had knocked J.T. on his ass. Bitter memories from his childhood had him comparing himself with the boy. She’d gone to the bar with Romeo and Olivia. Probably left the kid with the grandmother. How often did that happen?

Stop being judgmental.

Pushing his thoughts about Leigh from his mind, J.T. drove around to the back of the house. He’d expected to find his grandmother outside in her garden or at least in her chair close by. Elva stepped out onto the porch and waited for him to park. Icy fingers clutched his spine when the housekeeper’s normally jovial face remained solemn. He crossed the yard in long strides.

“Nana?” J.T. held his breath and braced for bad news.

“She’s resting. Hardheaded old woman was determined to finish weeding before she quit for the day.” Elva’s hand fidgeted with her apron, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles. “She overheated as bad as my granddaddy’s old Ford used to do. I made her lie down for a while.”

The tension between his shoulder blades eased. “If she’s asleep—” He backed toward his car.

“Come in. You leave without seeing her, and she’ll blame me.”

J.T. kept his footsteps light while he passed through the kitchen and down the hall to his grandmother’s bedroom.

“Sneaking around wasn’t your long suit when you were a teenager. Your skills haven’t improved.”

The teasing in Nana’s voice melted his frozen spine. He leaned against the doorframe. “The Marines thought my stealth to be quite good.”

She looked small and frail in the antique bed with the old-fashioned quilt across her legs. Her skin had a sallow tinge today, accentuated by silver hair smoothed back from her face. Her green eyes sparkled with mischief. The knot in his stomach unwound.

“Obviously, your targets didn’t have my superior hearing.” She chuckled at her own joke, pushed herself upright, and patted the bed next to her. “Elva called you, didn’t she?”

“Hello, gorgeous.” J.T. leaned down for a kiss. “No, ma’am, she didn’t.”

“Then why are you here?” Doubt clouded her eyes.

“A woman from work had a family crisis. I dropped her off at her parents’ house in Peachtree City. You know if I’m this close to home, I’m gonna come check on you.” He lowered himself to the edge of the bed. “Enough about me. Promise me you’ll listen to Elva. No more getting too tired or too hot.”

“Is she pretty?”

“Elva? I guess. She pales in comparison to you.” Nana swatted him on the arm. Another clear sign she felt better.

“Not her. The lady you left work for. Nothing pulls you away from a case.”

“Yes, she’s pretty. Don’t get your hopes up. We work together, that’s all.”

“You’re thirty-three. It’s time you gave me a great grandchild.”

“You got married late in life. Don’t rush me,” he protested with a smile. Marriage wasn’t happening and being a parent wasn’t going to happen. Discussing it with her would only get him a lecture.