One Little Lie

by Colleen Coble

  Nine

  There she was, smiling with her arms open. Jane ran through the wildflowers toward her mother, who held an infant in her arms. The tiny violets enveloped her in their sweet scent. Joy sang through Jane’s veins, a high-pitched strum that awakened every cell in her body. She couldn’t wait to bury her face in her mother’s neck and inhale the faint aroma of patchouli in her hair. Mom was in charge of worship, and she lit the incense in the sanctuary every night. That aroma would tell Jane she was safe in her mother’s arms, right where she belonged. She couldn’t wait to hold her son again, to smell the sweet scent of his newness and to touch his petal-soft skin.

  She reached her mother and threw herself into an embrace. Now that she had Mom in her arms, she was never letting her go. Nothing could pull them apart now. The spicy scent of patchouli made her smile, and she could feel her mother’s hair tangling with her own. They were two peas in a pod, as alike as one blade of grass to another. They were meant to be together, to walk arm in arm through life. When her mother spoke, Jane was sure she could finish a sentence for her. It was supposed to be that way.

  Her baby. She wanted her baby. She pulled back and reached for him even as he waved a wrinkled little hand toward her face. An acrid odor began to drift Jane’s way.

  “Mom, my baby!” She tried to take him from her mother, but Mom shook her head and stepped back.

  A foul odor pushed away the scent of incense, and Jane saw flames dancing in the grass behind her mother. She tried to take her son again, but Mother turned and started to walk away.

  “Mom, we have to run!” Jane tried to chase after her, but her feet were stuck in the grass as if encased in concrete. The fire raged into a suddenly dark sky, and fiery flickers raced toward where Jane stood rooted to the ground.

  Her mother and baby disappeared into the billowing black smoke as the flames touched Jane’s feet and burned the hem of her long dress. The dress flared as the fire raced up the length of the garment, and her hair caught fire.

  “Mom! My baby!”

  Jane opened her eyes at a worried huff and found Parker’s cold nose pressed against her wet cheek. Her eyes burned, and a sob choked her throat. Still struggling to breathe, she sat up and swung her legs to the floor.

  Would these nightmares ever end?

  As usual she reached for the tattered and faded Polaroid picture of her tiny son. Tears blurred her vision, but she blinked them back and stared at his sweet face. If only she could go back fifteen years and hold on to him. Maybe he wouldn’t have died if she’d been holding him.

  She swallowed down the sobs still trying to build in her chest and grabbed her e-book reader. Pressing it to her chest, she unlocked the patio door and stepped out onto the balcony overlooking Oyster Street, with Parker close behind. At two in the morning the street was quiet except for the jazz music from a late-closing bar down the street. A few lights spilled illumination along the brick sidewalks and gleamed in the banks of shop windows.

  Heading back inside, she took her sketch pad and drew as much of her mother’s face as she could remember. After all these years, the memories of her were vague except during a vivid dream like this. Why was this all coming back in such a powerful way after all these years? Was she losing her mind?

  Talking to her dad about it had always been forbidden, but she was tempted to try again. All he could do was clam up. Surely one of these days he would talk about it, wouldn’t he?

  Especially if he knew it was tearing her apart inside.

  A sound from outside caught her attention, and for a split second she thought it was a car backfiring until the glass in her window shattered. Parker began to bark, and Jane leapt to her feet on the other side of the bed, then reached for her gun. “Parker, quiet.”

  Crouching down so she couldn’t be seen, she scurried to the unbroken window and peeked out into the semi-dark street. No vehicles or people stood outside.

  She grabbed her slippers before going around to examine the damage. Broken glass littered her hardwood floor, and she saw a paper taped to the unbroken mouth of the bottle that had come through her window. She went to the kitchen and grabbed a plastic grocery bag, then inserted her hand in it and went back to pick up the broken bottle. Gingerly she carried it into the kitchen and turned on the light to read the paper that was attached.

  Retribution is sweet. Get ready.

  * * *

  Jane lowered the window of her patrol car and let in the scent of early morning dew. She punched in the code at the entrance to her father’s compound, and the big iron gates moved more slowly than she would have liked. From the backseat Parker pushed his nose past her left ear to pant out the window. A low whine built in his throat. He loved the freedom of chasing squirrels at her dad’s.

  She was tired after her nightmare and the broken window. Brian had come as soon as she called and had retrieved the evidence, but she doubted they’d lift any prints or DNA from the glass. Brian had seemed worried, but she shrugged and hurried him off so she could go back to bed.

  A police officer never knew when someone they’d arrested got his knickers in a knot. It came with the territory.

  Had Dad heard about her appointment to his position? If he had, he hadn’t texted or called to congratulate her. Maybe it bothered him. And had he gotten any whiff of the events of the last two days?

  She drove through the open gate toward her dad’s residence and left it open since she wouldn’t be here long. The roofs of the barns and house loomed in the distance, about a quarter of a mile from the road. There would be a barbed-wire fence and gate, then the privacy fence and its wooden door to get past before she would be able to park in front of her dad’s house.

  When she stopped her SUV, she saw her dad on the front porch. In his sixties, he was as fit as a Marine thanks to his state-of-the-art exercise equipment in one of the outbuildings. She opened her door and got out into the shade of the shagbark hickory trees lining the drive, then opened the back door to let Parker out. He ran off to sniff in the grass, then disappeared into the vegetation.

  Dressed in camouflage, Dad lifted a hand in greeting to her as he set his rifle against the porch railing. “Jane.”

  She walked up the steps and hugged him, which was like hugging one of the porch columns. He always held himself erect and barely brushed his cheek against hers. “Good morning, Dad. How’s retirement going?” She’d tell him about the murders later.

  He stepped back and lifted a bushy white eyebrow. “You’re the new police chief.”

  “Only Victor Armstrong voted against me.” She touched the badge on her uniform. “I hope I can do a good job like you have all these years.”

  Her dad looked as pleased as his granite face ever allowed. “Armstrong always hated me. I knew he’d never vote for my daughter to take my place. He was rooting for Paul Baker. The two of them are as thick as molasses.”

  The front door opened, and her father’s longtime girlfriend, Elizabeth Spicer, exited with a searching glance Jane’s way. She had a newspaper in her hand.

  She tucked a blonde strand of her bobbed hair behind an ear. “Jane, what a nice surprise.” She wore a T-shirt and jeans with a bit of mud on the knees, so she must have been gardening this morning. “I should have heard you sooner, but I was so mad about that trial.”

  Jane didn’t want to ask which one. Elizabeth took what she called miscarriages of justice very personally after living with a police chief for so long. “Got any coffee?”

  Dad merely inclined his head and moved toward the door.

  Elizabeth had always made Jane feel welcome, and she had never understood why her dad hadn’t divorced Mom so he could marry her. But Elizabeth had never pushed him. They’d lived together for at least ten years, and Elizabeth seemed content enough with the state of the relationship. Maybe it was because of her horrendous first marriage to a man who used his fists against her.

  Jane nodded. “I’d take some coffee if you’ve got it.”

  “Of co
urse, come on in. I have warm cinnamon rolls too.” Elizabeth hesitated. “Did you get the appointment?”

  Jane followed her and Dad inside and told her about the vote. Did Dad ever think about Mom these days? She wished she could forget as easily.

  The interior enveloped her with a shady welcome from the shimmering heat outside. The home reflected Elizabeth’s taste and not Dad’s. When Jane had lived here, the place hadn’t been updated in decades. Now the rooms opened up into a space that flowed. Comfortable white furniture contrasted with hickory floors and gray walls. The space was both welcoming and soothing, but Jane seldom came or stayed long. The more independent she’d gotten, the harder it was to be in her dad’s demanding presence. He required perfection, and though she’d tried, she never felt she measured up to his expectations. Leaving here for college had brought as much relief as the air-conditioning now blowing out the vents.

  Jane walked into the kitchen after Elizabeth and poured herself a cup of coffee as Elizabeth put a warm cinnamon roll onto a plate.

  Her dad perched on a bar stool at the marble island. “Heard about the break-in at the grocery store. Any leads?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing yet. We’re checking video links.”

  Talking about her cases was the one place she connected with her dad. Before Mount Sinai, her dad had worked for the Mobile police department, and even at the compound, he’d been in charge of security as well as the treasurer. After they left, he’d worked here in Pelican Harbor until his retirement. He understood investigation and crime. It had been his life since he was twenty-one.

  He lifted a brow. “You run it through the database looking for similar crimes?”

  “Yep. Nothing.” She should tell him about the two deaths now. He’d be astonished something like that could happen here. But something bigger pressed against her after the recent spate of nightmares. She wet her lips. “Um, Dad, I’ve been dreaming a lot about Mom. Have you ever tried to find out where she is?”

  He reached for his coffee. “Why would I want to do that? I don’t ever want to see her—not after she chose Moses over you and me. You shouldn’t waste your time thinking about her either.”

  Jane’s rebuttal dried at his fierce reply. “You sound like you hate her. I can’t hate her—she’s my mother,” she choked out, and her eyes filled with tears.

  What was wrong with her lately? She’d long ago learned to wall off these emotional tsunamis. This outburst would make her seem weak in her father’s eyes. She had too important a job to let this distract her. He wasn’t looking at her, but she could tell by the tenseness in his manner that he was holding back what he wanted to say.

  His granite face softened. “I know I don’t say it much, but I’m very proud of you. Life hasn’t always been easy for you, both at Mount Sinai and after we left, but you never complained, never disobeyed. I wish you could let it all go and forget about her. She doesn’t deserve your love.”

  The silence stretched between them for a long moment before she exhaled. Maybe she should drop it.

  A fist pounded on the door, and a gruff voice called out, “FBI.”

  Her dad raised a white brow and plodded back to the porch. Through the window Jane saw four men outside the door. Definitely FBI.

  She darted past her dad and opened the wooden door but left the screen door shut. “What’s going on?”

  “We need to speak to Charles Hardy.”

  Dad moved her aside and opened the screen door. “I’m Charles Hardy. What’s this all about?”

  The man nearest the door thrust a paper in his hand. “You’re under arrest for the theft of federal funds and money laundering. Come with us, please.” He reached through the doorway and grasped her dad’s forearm as the other men entered to search the house. “Take his phone and electronics as well as any paperwork you find.”

  Jane pulled out her ID to show them. “You’ve made a mistake. He’s the former chief of police and has given his life to law enforcement.”

  Her dad didn’t resist but allowed himself to be propelled to one of the waiting black SUVs. “Call my lawyer, Elizabeth,” he called over his shoulder as the agent hustled him into the back of the vehicle. “This is all a mistake. I’ve been following the man responsible, and they’re on the wrong track.”

  Jane’s chest compressed, and she felt short of breath as she ran after them. “Let me see the paperwork.”

  The agent in charge shook his head and got into the vehicle. Jane felt helpless as she watched the SUV’s tires kick up dirt as it drove toward the gate. She couldn’t watch the other agents search the property and ran for her vehicle.

  Ten

  Reid had texted Lauren two hours ago and told her he needed to see her. With the marina to his back, he sat with his feet dangling off the dock and listened to the sound of fish splashing in the water. A blue heron stood on the end of the pier and watched the water. The scents of lunch being prepared from the marina restaurant wafted toward him and mingled with the salty air, but he was too tense to enjoy it.

  Lauren had said she’d be here in an hour, but he’d expected her to be late. She would want him to think she was in control.

  After telling her he wasn’t going to play her game, he would have to talk to Will. The truth would be hard for his boy to hear, but Reid didn’t know how else to handle this. Lauren would want to extract her pound of flesh, and he had to do all he could to make sure that payment didn’t come from Will.

  Footsteps vibrated to his palms resting on the gray weathered wood of the dock. He turned to see her silhouette. Showtime.

  He rose and faced her. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show.”

  And there she was—just as beautiful as ever—though she was thinner. Her blonde hair grazed her shoulders with that little flip she’d always hated but he’d loved. Her green eyes held a touch of pathos he didn’t want to see. What kind of life had she led all these years? And why had she done it? So many questions crowded up into his throat, but he couldn’t ask them. She’d see them for the weakness they were.

  She stopped two feet away and tucked her hair behind her ears. “You got the money together faster than I expected. I wasn’t in town, and it took me a while to get here.”

  Explanations from Lauren? Maybe she had a sixth sense about how this would go down. Her presence rattled him. Even now, he could feel the pull she’d always had over him, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  “Let’s get this over with.” Her voice was low and husky. “I don’t want to be around you any more than you want to be with me. I wanted cash, not a check. Where is it?”

  He straightened and folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t have it. I decided I’m not going to start down a path of blackmail, Lauren.”

  Her head jerked as if she’d been slapped. “You don’t want to make an enemy of me.”

  “Aren’t you already? You don’t deserve anything from me. You chose your life, so go live it and leave me alone.”

  She took a step toward him and placed a hand on his arm. He shrugged her off. “Your wiles don’t work on me anymore.”

  The raw pain caused by their skin-to-skin contact told him he’d lied, but he couldn’t let her know she still affected him. He’d get past it, once he got over the shock of realizing she’d never cared about him except for his money.

  Her perfume drifted toward him. “We could start over. Just you, me, and Will. This is a new place. No one has to know about our past.”

  “You’re legally dead. How did you disappear so completely? Not even the private investigators could find a trace of you.” He shouldn’t have asked anything of her. She would see through to his heart.

  Her slim shoulders hunched as if she didn’t want to answer. A long pause followed before she spoke. “I had a friend who took care of that.”

  He flinched. “A male friend, I assume.”

  Her green eyes slid up to meet his gaze, then bounced away. “Yes.”

  “And wher
e is he now? Left you destitute?”

  She shrugged. “Life goes on, Reid. You moved on, and I moved on. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I intend to have the money that’s due me. I helped you get that business started.”

  “Oh? And how’d you do that? You were going to school, and I was working a second job to pay for your tuition. You thought journalism was a dead career.”

  “I did the books for you!”

  “You did our taxes the first year. You think that entitles you to anything?”

  Her chin rose, and she glared at him. “A judge would say yes.”

  “A judge would throw you in jail for attempted blackmail. You ever think about how you owe me money? You cleaned out the savings and checking accounts and left me with a child to raise on my own.”

  Her gaze faltered, and she looked away. “I had to have a start.”

  “And you didn’t care about Will at all. What you did to me is nothing compared to what you did to our son.” It pained him to say our when she had never bonded with Will.

  “Yet you’re willing to let him suffer even more.”

  He flinched again. “I have no choice. I know you. The requests for money would only intensify once you spent whatever I gave you. It’s better for him to face the truth now. He’s nearly fifteen—not a kid any longer.”

  “You can’t do this. You owe me.” Her husky voice held a note of desperation.

  “I am doing it. You get nothing, Lauren. Not a penny.”

  “Why’d you have me come all this way for nothing?” she burst out.

  Why indeed? Maybe he’d wanted to see her one last time. It had been important to him to test his own resolve. Though he’d felt her pull, he was strong enough to withstand it and to recognize it wasn’t love. He wasn’t crazy enough to get caught by her a second time.

  He shoved his hands in the pockets of his Docker shorts. “I wanted to tell you in person.”

  “You’re not going to like the consequences. I’ll get an attorney.” She spun on her heel and marched back toward the marina.