The Truth About Love (20 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

H
ow tall was he?” Suzanne’s voice was stern as she repeated Gina’s question to Maggie Buchanan. “What was his build?”

Maggie placed her hands on her hips as she stood in the living room. “Should I get a lawyer?”

“Only if you killed Barbara Landon,” Gina said.

“Or have withheld evidence,” Suzanne added.

Maggie looked out the side window for several seconds. “He was six feet two.” Her gaze fell to the floor. “Very muscular.” Her voice cracked. “But long and wiry.”

Just like Cyrus Alexander.

“Barbara Landon was murdered that Saturday afternoon,” Suzanne said. “Where was Seth Rowling that day?”

Maggie’s pacing started again. “He was with me all day. At Daddy’s house.”

“Doing . . . ?”

Maggie stopped and faced Suzanne. She gave her a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look. “We had a house alone to ourselves. We were kids in college. We made out. Watched movies. Smoked some pot.”

“Had sex?” Suzanne asked.

Maggie’s gaze fell to the floor. “I was on my period.” She paused. “Seth wasn’t very happy about that.” She ran her right hand down the side of her face. “That was the first time he ever hit me.”

“
Because you wouldn’t have sex with him?” Gina tried to hide the surprise in her voice.

“Yes.”

“Did the violence continue?” Suzanne asked.

Maggie’s eyes seemed to glaze over. “Yes.”

“And still you married him.” Suzanne didn’t ask a question. She already knew the answer.

Maggie’s face showed no emotion. “Seems pretty stupid, doesn’t it?”

Now Gina understood why Maggie had reverted to her maiden name after his death.

“It happens to the best of us,” Suzanne said, comforting Maggie.

Gina’s gaze shot to her boss. She never would have imagined such a strong, independent woman would allow herself to get into a relationship like that. Had it been her Key Biscayne lover who had abused her?

“He . . .” Maggie continued. “He said he’d come all the way from Pensacola thinking we’d have sex and I was wrong to lead him on like that. I had thought it would be nice just to . . . to spend time together.”

Gina knew how strong the need for sexual release could be in a college-age man. She’d grown up being taught to never leave her drink unattended, to never get in the car with a boy she didn’t know. Twitter was filled with news of sexual abuse in high school, in college, from professional athletes. The whole notion sickened her. Still, she was eager to steer the conversation back to Barbara Landon’s murder.

“You were with Seth Rowling that entire afternoon?”

Maggie’s hand flattened on her sternum. “Yes.”

“But the sawmill. Lan—” Gina stopped herself. “A witness heard the sawmill running the day of the murder.”

“Seth said he knew how to run it. There was some scrap wood. He’d been asking me if he could cut some for bookshelves at his apartment back in Pensacola.”

“Were you with him when he ran the sawmill?” Suzanne asked.

Maggie shook her head. “That was . . . right after he hit me. I wanted to get away from him. I went up to my room. That’s when I took my nap.”

“With the noise of the sawmill?” Gina remembered Buford Monroe saying his mother hated that noise. “You took a nap?”

“My bedroom was on the other side of the house,” Maggie said. “And when your daddy runs a sawmill for a living, you learn to sleep through it.”

Suzanne jotted something in her notebook, then looked up. “How did you learn of the murder at the store next door?”

“The police came the next day to ask me about it. I didn’t know until they told me.”

“Did they question Seth, too?” Suzanne asked.

Maggie stilled. Her eyes widened.

Suzanne leaned forward. “Maggie?”

“Seth was really drunk when I woke up from my nap, but he just kept drinking and drinking. Finally, he passed out.” Maggie looked down at her hands. “He was a violent drunk, even back then.”

Gina and Suzanne exchanged a worried look.

Maggie continued. “When I woke up the next morning, he was gone.”

“So the police never questioned him?” Suzanne asked.

Maggie’s gaze rose, meeting Suzanne’s. “By the time the police got there, Seth was gone.”

Landon sat in the bleachers of the small-town gym, wondering how the teenage players could run up and down the basketball court in such stifling heat. Though the school was air-conditioned, the old units seemed to be losing the battle against the brutal Florida summer. He pulled his T-shirt away from his chest, hoping at least one molecule of cool air might find its way to his skin.

Once he’d set his mind to it, it hadn’t been hard to track down Tim Alexander, Cyrus’s son. Not when the local newspaper covered high school sports like it was the only thing going on in this tiny little town. Probably because it was.

He’d thought coming here today might be a good way to clear his brain, which still clung to memories of his night with Gina like it had happened five minutes ago. How the hell did someone have sex like that, then just walk away? For the first time, his heart had been part of the equation, too. At least until he’d found the file notes in her apartment.

He ran his hands through his hair as the fortysomething woman sitting next to him glanced sideways at him for about the tenth time since he’d sat down. He wished he could tell her to stop staring, to leave him the hell alone. But he’d learned long ago that he was expected to be a nice guy. Accessible to the masses, even when he’d rather not be. So instead, he tried to ignore her, which became increasing difficult when she nudged the guy on her other side and whispered in his ear. The guy, presumably her husband, leaned forward to look at him. She leaned backward, giving him a better view, then the two shared another whispered conversation.

Landon tried to watch the basketball game, sensing that his private afternoon was about to be violated.

“You’re Landon Vista, aren’t you?” The woman interrupted his thoughts about Gina. She laid her hand on his arm, like she had some right to touch him because of who he was.

An older man in front of her turned around and looked at him, too.

Landon gave a slight nod, then returned his gaze to the basketball court in front of them. Tim pulled down a rebound and shot it out of the lane to the point guard.

“My Randall has been best friends with Tim since kindergarten.” She pointed to the guard taking the ball down the court. He had the same orange-red hair as her husband. She shook her head. “It’s a lot for a boy to go through.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
Would she not shut up?
The old man in front of her turned around to look for the second time.

She touched Landon’s arm again. “Kind of funny how the best-behaved, most respectful kid in the class is the one whose dad is in prison for murder.”

Landon didn’t say anything, but he knew how the kid felt. Like he always had something to prove. But for now, he wanted the woman to shut up before the entire section of bleachers heard her. The news of Cyrus’s case being reopened had to be huge news in a tiny town like this one. And he certainly knew what it was like to be a boy awash in the middle of a murder case. How people stared. Assumed you weren’t as good as they were because of something that had happened beyond your control.

“I thank the Lord every day that John’s here to help me.” She motioned toward the man with orange-red hair who listened to their conversation. “Raising boys is hard work.”

“Is Tim’s mom here?” Landon asked, looking around for someone who might look like the boy.

The woman jabbed a thumb toward the wall behind her. “She had the morning shift out at the plant. We brought Tim with us.” The woman smiled and held out her hand. “Patti McIntire.” She leaned back. “And this is John.”

Landon shook hands with them both, then returned his attention to the game. Patti spoke on and off throughout both halves, asking about his football days, sharing tidbits about Tim’s life.

“The boys would like meeting you some day,” Patti said when the game was over and the hometown team had won handily. “A real college football player and all. Most of ’em play in the fall. Of course, the school only has a hundred and thirty kids, so pretty much everyone makes the team.”

“I . . .” Landon grasped at words. Was she talking about her own boys? Or Tim Alexander? Did Landon want to meet Cyrus’s son? Would it do the kid any good? It would likely mess with Landon’s head, so what would it do to a sixteen-year-old? “I don’t know if that would do them any good.”

Patti opened her purse and fished around inside. “Well, let me give you one of my business cards.” She pulled a dog-eared card from the depths of the bag. “I do hair. Women’s,” she clarified. “Not men’s. Except my boys.”

He glanced down at the phone number and logo for Patti’s Shear Designs as she leaned toward him. When her closeness made him look up, she gave him a death stare that she’d undoubtedly perfected on her own kids. “You wouldn’t have come here if you didn’t want to meet him.”

“I . . . I don’t want him to know I was here today.” Landon wasn’t sure what he thought. He wanted to sort out his feelings before he involved a kid who’d already had a tough sixteen years. “I . . . don’t want to upset him.”

Patti laughed. “You’re a stranger here. Well, I mean you don’t live here. And you’re Landon Vista. The whole town knows you’re here today. Everybody who’s not here has already heard about it by now.”

“If he and I do meet”—Landon wasn’t sure what he was saying—“it should be private.”

“That’s why you have my card, honey.” She picked up her bag and motioned to her husband that she was ready to go. “And don’t you ever think I’d do anything that might hurt Tim. That child deserves all the kindness anyone can give him.”

Landon placed his hand on her arm to stop her. “You won’t tell anybody about our conversation?”

“I’ll give you a while to get in touch with him.” She winked. “And after that, it’s the best story anyone’s ever told at bunco night.”

He stood motionless as she clattered down the bleachers, greeting other parents as she went. Probably the same parents she’d gossip with about him when the time was right. But he did trust that she’d look out for Tim’s best interests. She’d had that motherly look in her eye when she talked about him. The one that would turn to fierce protection if anyone tried to harm him.

Landon sat back down, waiting for the crowd to clear out of the gym. A few people paused to look up at him as they walked out or stood, chatting with friends.

So why
had
he come here? It was like Gina’s presence had caused him to stretch the boundaries of his life. Two months ago, there had been Boomer and Ricardo, his work for the senator’s office. The volleyball league and the Twilight Pub. But she made him look at his life differently. Like the borders were different. Like there were different possibilities.

But that didn’t mean he needed to disrupt Tim’s life. Like Landon at that age, the poor kid probably just wanted to be left alone.

But how long did he have before Patti McIntire, or any other person in town, told Tim that Landon had been here today?

If Cyrus Alexander really was innocent, then Landon had already messed this kid’s life up about as bad as anyone could. Had Patti been right? Had Landon really come here because he wanted to meet Tim?

He stood and clambered down the metal bleacher before he had to think about that too much.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

G
ina tried to concentrate on the guy serving the volleyball on the other side of the net, but she hadn’t been able to think of anything other than Landon in the few minutes since he’d walked into the gym. She’d known from the league schedule that his team had the game after hers, but she hadn’t expected to feel like a confused teenager when he arrived.

The ball sailed over the net. Gina cupped her hands to come under it with a dig—a move she’d made thousands of times over the last few years. What should have been a perfect set for her teammate to spike over the net instead glanced off her fingertips with a flat thud. Game point for the other team. She looked straight ahead, rotated one position, and got ready for the next serve. She didn’t want to see her teammates’ surprised looks at her screwup. And she certainly didn’t want Landon to know how much his presence bothered her.

The next serve blooped over the net. Gina dove, raising it with a one-handed hit to save it from landing on the floor. That was the level of play they expected from her—and that she expected from herself. She rolled into a standing position just as her teammate’s spike bounced out of the net. The other team cheered and traded high fives. Gina’s team grumbled. But she’d played Division I volleyball. And this was a recreational league. The loss meant far less to her than Landon waiting on the sidelines.

She raised a hand to acknowledge him and walked nervously to the row of folding chairs where her gym bag sat. She tugged her kneepads down to her ankles and gathered the bag, ready to go.

A pair of big hands came to rest on the back of the folding chair. “Mind if I follow you out?”

She jumped. She’d assumed Landon was out on the court, warming up with his team for the next game. “You don’t have to . . . ?” She jabbed a thumb to indicate his teammates behind her.

“I don’t need to do any drills.” He grinned. “I’m already the best player on the team.”

She chuckled and headed toward the door of the gym. Once they got outside, he gently grasped her wrist and pulled her around the corner, out of the path of the players who’d just finished their game and were headed to their cars.

“So what have you been up to?” he asked as he leaned against the brick exterior of the building.

She shrugged. “Work, mainly.” She wanted to scream
I have two more weeks here
. But she had more pride than that. If he didn’t feel the same magnetic pull that she felt, then he wasn’t going to develop it during her last few days in town.

“Any new developments in the case?” he asked.

She shook her head. She’d already decided she wasn’t going to get his hopes up on anything having to do with the case until they were dead sure about it. And while Maggie Buchanan’s information was a substantial new twist, it wasn’t something Gina was willing to share with him. Not yet, anyway.

“Did you figure out if it was the sawmill I heard?”

“We’re working on it.” She hated to withhold what she knew about Seth Rowling having been next door at the time of the murder, but this summer had taught her to keep her personal and professional lives completely separate. And she wasn’t going to risk hurting Landon again.

He reached up and pulled on the front of her jersey, beckoning her toward him. She took a tentative step. And then another. His masculine scent made her want to move even closer.

“I’ve missed you.” His voice was tender, almost reverent.

She smiled, but for some reason she had to fight back tears. For God’s sake—she wasn’t a crier. Well, except when she got mad, but she wasn’t angry now.

Was he really getting to her so much that she couldn’t even be near him without being overwhelmed with emotion?

“I’ve got to drive to Orlando after the game tonight.” He raised his hand to stroke her jaw with his fingertips. “The senator’s got an all-day event down there tomorrow. They all drove down earlier today.” He motioned with his head toward the gym. “But we would have been short a player if I hadn’t come.” He rolled his eyes. “And believe it or not, I’m the breakfast speaker at seven a.m.”

“Wow. Tough gig.” She could handle a light conversation. Teasing him was not a problem. It was the relationship part she wasn’t sure about. “Good thing you’re in good shape for such a grueling schedule.” She squeezed one of his biceps. She’d forgotten how hard they were. Last time she’d been this close to them, they were on either side of her head as Landon made love to her. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She wanted to remember everything about him. His touch. His scent. His voice.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he whispered.

She opened her eyes. “Do what?” Her voice was filled with emotion, but she wasn’t going to spill her heart out between them without knowing for sure what he was talking about.

His fingers dipped to run along her collarbone. “There can’t be any secrets between us.”

Like the fact that Seth Rowling had been next door on the day of his mom’s murder? But Landon didn’t know anything about that. Was he talking about the file notes he’d seen on the table in her breakfast nook? That seemed like eons ago. She needed to slow down her reaction until she could think straight.

“Maybe we should talk about this when you’re back from Orlando,” she said. Yes. She liked that idea. That would mean she’d get to see him at least one more time before she left Tallahassee.

He leaned toward her, his cheek brushing hers. “I’ve got to get inside for my game.”

The intimacy of his breath on her neck gave her chills. When he stepped away from her, she wanted to reach out and pull him back.

“I’ll text you when I know for sure when I’ll be back in town,” he said.

She nodded, and he disappeared around the corner. She heard the heavy metal door to the gym open and close. He was gone.

She slouched against the brick wall of the building. She hadn’t expected that tonight.

He’d missed her.

She reached up to where his cheek had touched hers, as if he might still be there.

But a sudden thought stopped her dreamy reaction. If he really did miss her, then why hadn’t he called for days? Why hadn’t he given her an opportunity to explain the file notes he’d seen at her house?

And how was she going to keep from feeling guilty about hiding another important fact from him?

Last night’s conversation with Landon at the gym was pretty much all Gina had thought about for most of the morning, but at least now it was lunchtime. Maybe she’d go for a walk down to the park and back after she ate so she could clear her mind.

She pulled her lunch box from underneath her desk and unzipped it. Today’s lunch—store-bought chicken salad and some carrot sticks—was the same as yesterday’s lunch. And lunch from the day before that. But Suzanne—always a frugal one—brought her lunch every day, so Gina had learned to shop at the grocery store for things she could bring to work.

Suzanne’s office door burst open. The strap of her worn leather messenger bag crisscrossed her body. “Pack that back up and bring it with you.”

Gina complied, stuffing the contents back into the plastic lunch box. “Where are we going?”

“Pensacola.”

“Right now?” That was a three-hour drive. Six hours round-trip. To get there and back would mean they’d be gone well into the evening. That was fine with Gina, just . . . unprecedented since she’d worked at Morgan’s Ladder.

“Yes, Pensacola. Right now.” Suzanne armed the security system using the panel near the front door. “Come on.”

Gina grabbed her purse and scampered to the door, knowing she had only thirty seconds before the system was set. “Why are we going there?”

Both women stepped out onto the sidewalk, and Suzanne pulled the door shut behind them.

She turned to Gina, a solemn look on her face. “Maggie Buchanan has something she wants to show us.”