LOVE in a Small Town (Ladies of Legend Boxed Set)

by Janet Eaves

  If Tom had an opinion about anything she was doing to the house that could one day be his, he wasn’t offering it, and frankly she didn’t want to hear it. She was her own woman now. In fact, she’d decided to stop being ridiculous about the horror she’d suffered. Once she had time to put it all in perspective, she realized she could have had it worse. Yes, Jack had hurt her, badly, and he had humiliated her, but in the end she survived, and that was what counted.

  She’d already put in a call to the newly elected sheriff, Polly Chapman, and made an appointment to go in and talk to her. In some ways it was easier knowing she was going to get to talk to a woman about what Jack had done to her, rather than a man. But she wasn’t excited at the prospect either way.

  She’d hidden the photograph she found in the stripping room out in her car. When she went to see the sheriff, she was going to hand it over, along with her own written statement, which she was going to ask be read before they talked.

  Winnie glanced at her wrist for the zillionth time that day and felt a little flutter in her stomach. She had less than an hour before she headed to town and the Sheriff’s office, which was housed within the county jail building. And then it would be someone else’s burden as well.

  “Look what I found.”

  Winnie turned and blinked in surprise at the tiny orange and yellow fur-ball in Tom’s arms as he entered the living room. He stroked the kitten gently, smiling at her like he’d just won a prize. A shiver went through her, a reaction she had any time she saw his hands touching something in a way her mind repelled, but her body craved. It was weird to know that she both wanted and feared what his hands could do to her. It made her wonder if somehow, some way, Jack had thought his actions had been welcomed by her. She cringed and turned away. No. She wouldn’t take the blame for his deviant behavior. She had never wanted anything more than to be treated with kindness, and perhaps one day loved. What he’d done, he’d done alone.

  She forced herself to smile at Tom. “I have to go to town. I’ll see you later.”

  “Wait!”

  Turning back, Winnie read the confusion on his face, emphasized by his furrowed brows. She sighed. It wasn’t his fault she was so messed-up and nervous and was overreacting to him lovingly petting an animal Jack wouldn’t have hesitated to kick. “I’m sorry,” she said more gently. “I have an appointment in town and can’t be late.”

  Tom tilted his head, looking her over from her neatly brushed flyaway hair to her pointed-toed heels. He smiled back. “You look nice. A dress becomes you.

  “Do you mind if I come along? I need to stop at the Co-Op and order some supplies.”

  She stared at him silently for a moment. What could she say? No, you can’t come along? That would be rude. But she didn’t want him privy to the talk she needed to have with the sheriff. She wanted, and needed, for the information to go no further than necessary. Not because she thought anyone would think badly of her, but aside from how embarrassed she would be, she didn’t want people’s sympathy. She’d already experienced that as a kid, when one or more of the local churches brought her family food, or hand-me-down clothing, or a new toy for Christmas. She didn’t want anyone’s cast-offs anymore, or their charity, or their pity. She just wanted to be herself, and either liked or disliked for that alone.

  “I don’ t know how long I’ll be. Maybe you should take your car. That way you can come on back when you’re done.”

  As brush-offs went, Winnie felt like she’d done pretty well.

  “Sure. No problem. I’ll just take this little guy back to his momma and follow you to town.”

  ****

  As brush-offs went, Winnie had done a good job, with just the right amount of regret in her voice as she’d sent him on his own way.

  Tom returned to the small mower shed behind the house and deposited the kitten with the rest of its litter then headed to his car. He’d never been a big fan of cats, but had nothing against them either. He’d just wanted to make Winnie smile and the meowing balls of fluff, he’d thought, would be just the thing. Well, that had pretty much been a bust.

  She was up to something. He knew it.

  She’d spent the better part of the day decorating, but had spent nearly as much time fidgeting with her watch as she’d repeatedly glanced at it. She’d finished with the house then closed herself up in her bedroom, appearing an hour later, dressed in a pretty little dress and some butt-kicking shoes. For the first time since he’d met her, she’d had on make-up, which he personally thought a waste of money. With her beautiful complexion, she simply didn’t need it. But he’d learned long ago a man’s view of a woman and her view of herself were usually miles apart. And that a smart man just kept his opinion to himself.

  His momma hadn’t raised a fool.

  Tom’s first instinct had been that she had a date, something that shouldn’t have tightened his gut, but it had. Then he’d rethought the possibility of her meeting with a man. He hadn’t known her long, but he was starting to get a picture of a very quiet, shy woman, and such a woman usually didn’t start dating a few short weeks after burying a husband. If nothing else, the small-town gossip would be too much for her.

  Unfortunately, there were possibilities worse than her having a romantic rendezvous. He genuinely liked her, was sexually attracted to her, and didn’t want to believe she had anything to do with the illegal activities her late husband was suspected of. But he knew it was too soon in their relationship for her to let her guard down and reveal her real personality. That was one reason he wasn’t going to sweat this brief separation.

  The other reason was that he wanted time alone in the house to do a thorough search of the premises. It was his first real chance after moving in since Winnie had kept him busy painting and moving in furniture, then moving it from one location to another, time after time, until she’d been satisfied with everything.

  He followed her down the long driveway and then to town, splitting off to the north end of Main Street to go to the Co-Op when she went south. He was tempted to backtrack and try and find her car, but he had other fish to fry, and after the ten minutes it took to order the farm supplies he needed, he returned to the house, determined to turn the house up-side-down and shake it hard until something useful fell out.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tension and nerves grew as Winnie sat in the hard, wooden chair outside Polly Stevens’ office. She took several deep breaths, hoping she could maintain her composure when the time came to tell her story. There was no easy way to do this. She was going to have to confess things she had planned to take to her grave.

  “Ms. Butler?”

  Winnie hated the name and was going to file a motion with the courts to take back her maiden name as soon as possible. She stood and turned to the tall blond woman, a little startled to see the scars that touched forehead, lips, jaw-line, and neck.

  Despite the remnants of her injuries, Polly Stevens was a striking woman. Her business suite accentuated her incredible figure and long, long legs. Her hair, a striking white-blond, was shiny enough to land her a role in a shampoo and conditioner commercial, and was wound up in a sophisticated French-twist. She smiled at Winnie with wide, thick lips coated in a coral shade, making Winnie glad she’d taken the time and made the effort to enhance her own appearance.

  In truth, she’d originally bought the makeup and put it on as a form of armor. Now it was time to see if it offered any protection. “Thank you for seeing me, Sheriff.”

  She smiled, showing off a mouth full of bright white teeth. “Call me Polly. I’m still trying to get used to the title, and not doing such a great job of it, since I had no intentions of running for the office when I moved back home. But I seem to have a go-where-my-government-calls gene. Even when it’s just my local government.”

  Winnie nodded, wondering if the sheriff’s small talk was supposed to ease her jitters. It wasn’t working. She bit her bottom lip. Nerves were increasing and she wasn’t certain she could go through with
it. “I’m Winnie.” Compassion filled Polly’s blue eyes, making Winnie wonder if her stress was obvious.

  “Please have a seat. Can I get you a cup of coffee or anything?”

  Winnie shook her head. “No, thank you. Would you mind closing the door?”

  Polly did so immediately, then went to sit behind her extremely neat desk. In a serious tone she asked, “What can I do for you, Winnie?”

  Winnie pulled the photo from her purse and handed it across the desk to Polly. She took it, looked at it, then raised her gaze to Winnie. “Where did you get this?”

  “It was in the stripping room of the barn at my place.”

  Polly looked back down at the picture, her brows furrowing. “What do you know about it? Do you know her?”

  Winnie shook her head. “No. I’ve never seen her before.”

  Polly laid the photograph on her table and clasped her hands, resting her elbows on the desk. “I never met your late husband. Do you think it possible that he knew anything about it, or had anything to do with it?”

  Winnie nodded. “I’m positive he did.” Her answer finally got a reaction. Polly’s eyes flashed surprise.

  “Why would you think that?”

  Now came the moment of truth. She pulled the detailed confession from her purse and clasped it tightly in her hands. Once she handed it over, any degree of privacy she might have had would be gone. “What I am about to hand to you must be kept confidential.”

  “I don’t know if I can make that promise without knowing what it is that you have there.”

  Winnie found she couldn’t hand it over. “It’s my life with Jack Butler. It’s a detailed account of all the ways he abused me, including the time he chained me to the bedpost just like that girl in the picture.”

  Polly stared at her, her expression completely blank. “I’ll do my best to make sure only necessary information gets out to solve a crime, if we find a crime has been committed.” She paused for a second. “Including those committed against you.”

  It was all she could ask for. Winnie handed the pages over. “Please, read it first, then I’ll answer any questions you have. But don’t worry about me. Jack’s dead. There is nothing more you can do to him.”

  Polly nodded then looked at the stack of papers. Winnie watched the expressions that flittered across Polly’s face as the Sheriff read about the life she’d suffered at Jack Butler’s hands. Polly inhaled sharply a couple of times, but made no other sound, except the shuffling of papers. When she finished reading, she laid the papers on the desk face down, picked up a pen and pulled a yellow legal pad close. Finally she looked up at Winnie. “First, do you need medical attention?”

  The rest of the interview was as hard as she’d imagined, though Polly’s calm presence gave her the strength to say what needed to be said. She’d hated having to let Polly take pictures of the scarring on her wrists where she’d fought against being chained, and the skull-shaped burn on her inner thigh. The sheriff also wanted her to be examined for other scarring, but Winnie refused, admitting that she’d already been examined and the thought of repeating the experience sickened her. Then she’d signed a letter giving Polly permission to see her medical files regarding that exam.

  Winnie stood when it was over, relieved she no longer held the burden of Jack’s dirty little secret, petrified she’d made a mistake in exposing so much of the darker aspects of her life with him. If Polly broke her word and all this became public, she would leave Legend and never return. “What happens now?”

  Polly rose also and rounded the desk. “Since you’ve already completely stripped the house and searched the barn, there probably isn’t much sense in our looking there. Is there anywhere else Jack Butler frequented?”

  Winnie shrugged. “He went out every night after… he did… what he did… to me. I never knew where or for how long. I was always asleep before he returned.”

  “I’d like your permission to come out and look over the farm anyway.”

  Winnie closed her eyes briefly. “That would be fine, except I have someone staying there, running the farm. He’s interested in buying it. I don’t want him to know about any of this. I don’t want anyone knowing about my involvement in this.”

  Polly pressed her lips together then nodded. “I’ll send my husband. He can come over under the guise of being your massage therapist. Cat looks a lot more harmless than he is. Your buyer won’t have a clue Cat’s had years of law enforcement training.”

  Her smile flashed large, bright teeth. “And he gives one helluva great massage.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tom didn’t usually curse, but he was certain something very ugly was going to come out of his mouth soon. Winnie had cleaned the old house so completely there just wasn’t anything to find. Not even a cob-web dared to form in the corner of the newly painted walls. The woman was a clean freak.

  He had no idea if she always had been so meticulous or if this was a new practice designed to cheat him out of finding something to pin on her. Either way it was stopping him cold.

  He’d started in the living room looking for false walls at the tall built-in book cases guarding either side of the stone fireplace. Giving up on that, he’d pulled up rugs looking for loose boards or a trap door, but again, nothing. After briefly patting down the chairs and sofa, which he knew was a complete waste of time since they were so new, he had moved on to the kitchen, searching cabinets, the pantry, and the appliances. Filled with frustration, he’d searched the formal dining room, but it held so little that it only took moments.

  The lack of success wasn’t going to deter him. He checked his watch, wondering just how much time he had before Winnie came back. Knowing this could be his only chance alone in the house for a while, he sprinted up to her bedroom. Opening a window so he could hear her car approach on the gravel drive, he quickly searched the single closet which was filled with lots of new clothes, many of which still had sales tags attached to a sleeve or waistband. Twenty boxed pairs of shoes lined the floor of the closet, ten over ten. And an assortment of different colored purses hung from three nickel-plated double-hooks on the inside of the door. Each one staggered so several purses could fit on each hook without interfering with the purses hanging below.

  The single top shelf held three medium sized taped cardboard boxes. As far as he could tell there was nothing written on them to identify the contents. He debated pulling one down and checking inside, as he had no idea if he could make it look the same if he re-taped it. Deciding it was worth the risk, he chose the farthest box since it would be partially hidden once returned to its spot. It was heavy. Very heavy. Piquing his interest further.

  He maneuvered it until it pulled free, then lowered it to the floor. Anticipation hummed inside his body, making him want to rip the tape from the box. But caution had him gently pulling the strip, making him wince when the cardboard’s brown outer layer pulled away with the tape. Committed to the task now, he bit his bottom lip, pulling off the remainder, and flipped open one flap.

  “Hello? Anyone home?”

  His heart choked off the air supply when it jumped into his throat. Tom quickly, but as gently as possible with shaking hands, replaced the tape as best he could. The shaking increased with the urgency to get it back in place in the closet quickly, making him smash his finger between the box and the shelf as he tried to wedge it in exactly as he’d found it.

  “Helloooo? Mrs. Butler? Winifred?”

  Tom took a deep breath and closed the closet door, hoping he could get back to fix the tape before Winnie got home. Though he’d tried to put the tape back exactly as he’d found it, the places where the box-skin had adhered to the adhesive strip looked different than the rest of the re-taped box, and was glaringly different than the other two unaltered boxes. He was afraid Winnie would notice the mess he’d made immediately upon opening the closet door it if he couldn’t fix it first.

  He made his way to the top of the stairs and stopped. Standing just inside the fr
ont door was a woman, he figured to be in her early to mid twenties, looking torn between concern and embarrassment. She was holding a cute little blond headed girl’s hand with one hand, and a crust covered pie with the other. Tom took a deep breath, pasted a smile on his face and descended the stairs.

  “Hi.”

  The woman glanced past him up the stairs, then back at him again. “Hi. I’m Christina Montgomery, and this is my daughter, Lisa. We live next door.” Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink as she glanced back up the stairs again. “I hope we haven’t interrupted anything.”

  Tom opened his mouth then snapped it closed, realizing she meant something sexual between him and Winnie. As much as the idea appealed to him as a man, and was a plausible excuse for him to have been in Winnie’s room–though he had no idea if this woman knew which room was which–he shook his head as he pointedly looked at the little girl smiling up at him. “No. Just taking care of business.”

  Christina’s eyes lit with laughter as she extended her arm, holding the pie out for him to take. He returned his attention to her, deciding to let her believe what she wanted.

  “It’s blueberry. It was my late husband’s favorite. I’m a little late, but I wanted to pass my condolences along to Mrs. Butler.”

  Tom cleared his throat, uncomfortable now that he’d allowed her to think Winnie might be hiding upstairs following a tumble with him. “Actually, she isn’t here right now. I’m working here and looking at buying the farm and was just checking out the house’s structure.” As lies went, he thought that a pretty good one.

  Christina nodded and pulled her fidgeting daughter closer, then lifted her into her arms. “Well, welcome to Legend, Mr…?”

  Tom switched the pie from his right hand to the left then extended his free hand. Christina shuffled the child so she could shake hands with him. “Tom Green. I’m sorry, I usually have manners.”

  She resettled the little girl. “It’s nice to meet you. Please tell Mrs. Butler, when she comes back, that I’ll drop in another day.”