“I know you would, Mrs. Holloway. But I can’t allow that while there’s an open investigation.”
Disappointment was swift.
A loud sigh echoed from Red Bear. “I realize that you have some kind of bond with the child, and to be honest, I believe she feels the same. She asks about you every hour on the hour when you’re not here.”
“She has no one else,” Grace admitted around the lump in her throat. “And since I can’t have children of my own, I am able to offer her what she needs.”
Something flickered in Red Bear’s eyes. Pity, perhaps?
He cleared his throat. “I am sorry to hear that, Mrs. Holloway. Truly, I am.”
“Listen,” he continued, when an awkward silence fell. “I can make arrangements for you to spend some time here with Mud, if you so desire. The safehouse here has two extra bedrooms. You’re welcome to one of them, at least until this case can be resolved.”
Grace had to admit, his offer surprised her. She opened her mouth to decline but then paused. Why couldn’t she stay a few days with Mud? It wasn’t as if she had anything or anyone waiting for her back at home.
Jasper had been gone for days. Where, Grace had no clue. Probably the church basement. Grace had been in that basement less than a dozen times over the past thirteen years, but she knew enough to know it had a bed and a bathroom in it. And that would work perfectly fine for Jasper to cool his heels in for a time.
“Okay, yes. If Mud can’t come home with me, then I’ll stay out here with her for a few days. Or at least until she’s cleared.”
Grace thought about the innocence in Mud’s eyes when she’d confessed to killing Albert Dyson. Only, she’d referred to him as the Devil. Grace had to do what she could to help the child, no matter what kind of trouble she would be inviting. At least Horace Dyson couldn’t get to Mud while she was on tribal lands.
“I’ll visit with Mud for a bit then run back to the house to grab a few things. I appreciate you allowing me to stay here with her, Red Bear. Had all of this taken place outside tribal lands, I’m afraid things with Mud would have gone a lot differently.”
Red Bear’s gaze hardened slightly. “I am aware of how your government operates. We have dealt with them in the past.”
Grace wanted to ask him what he meant by that statement but figured if he wanted her to know, he’d tell her. Besides, she had enough on her mind with Mud’s situation. Not to mention her marriage problems.
She moved to step around Red Bear, but something in his eyes gave her pause. Instead, she found herself saying, “What kind of trouble did you have with our government?”
Red Bear remained silent for so long that Grace thought he wouldn’t answer. His gaze slowly shifted to focus on something beyond her left shoulder.
“My oldest brother was killed several years ago in New Orleans. His body was found in his hotel room by housekeeping the following morning, his throat slit, and his hair removed at the scalp. He never even mentioned to me that he was going to New Orleans.”
Grace was horrified. “Oh my God, Red Bear. I’m so sorry. Did they catch his killer?”
Red Bear’s gaze lowered to hers. “They did not. It was an obvious hate crime, and yet, it was never investigated as one. The case went cold years ago. His killer remains at large.”
Grace couldn’t look away from the pain in Red Bear’s eyes. “Do you have any idea who could have done such a thing?”
“I have my suspicions.”
She wanted to ask what those suspicions were, but he abruptly turned away, speaking over his shoulder as he went. “I will notify the staff that you’ll be staying with the child for a few days.”
Grace sent him a small wave, letting him know she’d heard him, and then moved to the steps of the block building a few feet away.
The first thing she noticed upon entering was Mud seated at a desk, her head bent over a book in front of her, and Jaya standing at her shoulder.
“Very good,” Jaya praised, touching Mud on the arm. “You are a fast learner. Now, what is this word?”
“T-tree,” Mud responded in a quiet tone.
Grace stood back, not wanting to interrupt. Emotion flooded her system. The Jena Choctaws were teaching Mud how to read.
Jaya looked over just then and sent Grace a welcoming smile. “Good day to you, Mrs. Holloway.”
Mud’s head snapped up. Excitement shone from her eyes for a split second before her expression quickly blanked.
Grace understood it for what it was… Insecurity.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The days seemed to drag by for Grace. Her nerves were constantly on edge due to worrying about her marriage, and Jasper’s messages had grown increasingly hostile.
She knew she couldn’t continue staying at the safehouse with Mud. Not indefinitely, at any rate. Grace had a home back in Jena, a home that needed attention. Bills were coming due, and she needed to do some banking.
It also wasn’t lost on her that Jasper hadn’t deposited the money from the last two week’s church sermons. Which meant that she had very little available for the bills.
Blowing out an exhausted breath, Grace eased to the front room of the safehouse and waved Jaya over.
“Is everything okay, Mrs. Holloway?”
Grace adored Jaya. The young Choctaw woman had been a godsend for Mud. She’d been overseeing Mud’s schooling, and from what Grace could tell, she was doing an amazing job.
Gesturing toward Mud seated at a desk, Grace asked, “What is she working on today?”
“Math,” Jaya announced with no small amount of awe. “She is one of the most intelligent children I have ever known. She picks up on things very quickly.”
Pride filled Grace’s chest. She’d observed Mud’s attempts at learning and understood Jaya’s awe better than anyone. “She truly is extremely bright. But she would have to be, to be able to survive on her own the way she did. I don’t know if I could have done it. Especially at Mud’s age.”
Jaya glanced back at Mud and then met Grace’s gaze once more. “I can’t imagine what she’s been through. Seeing her mother defiled and murdered in front of her. And yet, the child still has the drive to learn…to live.”
“I know,” Grace admitted in a soft voice. “It amazes me too.”
Jaya glanced down at the bag Grace had draped over her shoulder. “Are you leaving us?”
“Just for a few hours. I have to go home for clean clothes and to pay some bills. I’ll be back this afternoon.”
With one last look in Mud’s direction, Grace opened the door and quietly stepped outside. The last thing she wanted was to disturb Mud’s concentration.
Grace drove through tribal lands, admiring its rugged beauty. Unlike Shipper Parish, Jena Village and the other thousands of acres owned by the Choctaw had been left untouched by man. Sure, there were homes, a few shops, and a grocery store, but most of the lands had been preserved. And Grace loved it.
Arriving in Jena, Grace noticed Jasper’s SUV in the church parking lot. She pulled up next to it and got out; anxiety mixing with the remaining anger from the hit she’d taken to her face.
Grace wanted nothing more than to turn around and leave, but she couldn’t. Business had to be handled, regardless of her personal feelings.
She trailed over to the side door, surprised to find it locked.
Flipping through the keys in her hand, Grace found the one that went to the church and let herself inside. “Jasper?”
Silence.
He must be in the basement, she assumed, closing the door and heading left.
The door to the basement was locked as well.
Not having a key, Grace lifted her hand and knocked.
No answer came.
She pressed her ear to the door and knocked once again. “Jasper!”
When no sounds could be heard coming from the basement, Grace wandered to the front area of the church.
The pulpit and choir area were empty, as were the pews. “Jas
per?”
More silence.
Where can he be?
Left with little choice, Grace let herself out the side door, locked it behind her, and strode back to her car. Maybe he would be at the house.
Instead of driving over to the parsonage she’d shared with Jasper for the past fifteen years, Grace left her car in the parking lot and walked home.
Since the house and church were only a few hundred yards apart, she would arrive home in less than five minutes.
“Mrs. Holloway?”
Grace inwardly sighed. She would recognize that voice anywhere.
Pasting on a smile she didn’t feel, Grace turned to face one of the deacons of their church. “Hello, Mr. Tidwell. How are you today?”
He ambled toward her, his thinning gray combover lifting in the breeze, and his hawk-like gaze locked on her face. “We missed you in church Sunday. Is everything all right?”
Grace ground her teeth. “Everything’s fine, Mr. Tidwell. Just a little under the weather is all.”
“Oh, I hope it’s nothing serious. Several members of the congregation have come down with the crud over the past few weeks.”
Glancing at the house, Grace noticed the porch light had been turned off. Which meant that Jasper had been home.
She met Mr. Tidwell’s gaze once more. “Like I said, I’ve just been a little under the weather. Look, I hate to be rude, but I’m really in a hurry.”
“Yes, of course,” he responded with a sniff. “Well, you have yourself a nice rest of the day.”
Grace pasted on another smile. “You too, Mr. Tidwell.”
“Will we see you in church this Sunday?” he asked when she moved to turn away.
Fighting to keep her smile in place, Grace murmured, “Depends on how I feel. Good day, Mr. Tidwell.”
She spun toward the house before he could respond.
Once inside, she closed the door and leaned against it. Mr. Tidwell wasn’t the only member of church she’d had to give an excuse to the past week. And he would no doubt be the last.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Jasper?” Grace called, pushing away from the front door.
Silence, once again.
Slightly frustrated, Grace pushed away from the door and trailed off toward her bedroom to gather a few more changes of clothes.
She noticed a light on in the office. “Jasper?”
Turning the knob, she eased to door open to find the laptop lit up as if someone had recently been on it. Jasper…
Her curiosity drove her forward.
Grace rounded the desk and took a seat. The computer screen was open on the desktop, showing their frequently used icons.
Glancing around, Grace rested her fingers on the mousepad and double-clicked on the search engine. It opened immediately.
She then dragged the cursor to History, curious as to what he’d been doing. Had he been checking on their banking information? Depositing money, perhaps? She sure hoped so.
Clicking on the History tab, Grace waited on the required screen to pop up and then scanned the results. There, on the last page opened was the name… Flora Ramer.
So, Jasper had been researching Mud’s mother.
She clicked on the next search result, and her breath slowed to a crawl. Lethal poisons.
And on it went, with Grace opening the pages that Jasper had been researching in her absence. He’d searched everything from how to poison someone to life insurance regulations.
“Grace?”
Grace nearly jumped out of her skin. She flipped the laptop closed and got to her feet. “In here.”
Jasper rounded the corner just then, a strange, glassy look in his eyes. “When did you get home?”
Was he drinking? “A few minutes ago. I saw your vehicle at the church but couldn’t find you there. Thought I’d try here, but you weren’t here either.”
He stepped deeper into the room. “I walked over to the hardware store. Why were you looking for me?”
Grace kept her distance. “I wanted to talk with you about the bills.”
He took another step forward. “The bills? When are you coming home, Grace? You know I didn’t mean to hit you. I’m sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”
Grace wanted to believe him; she really did. But something wasn’t right. She could hear it in his voice, see it in the glassy vacantness of his eyes. “I don’t know, Jasper. You struck me. We’ve counseled people in our church about that very same thing. People we’ve advised to seek help for abuse. And yet—”
“Abuse?” he asked incredulously. “It was a one-time mistake, Grace. I slapped you. Once. It’s not like I beat you or broke a bone. You need to grow up and stop acting like a twelve-year-old. You’re being ridiculous.”
Grace was momentarily shocked speechless. She swallowed back a nasty retort and lifted her chin. “I don’t want to argue with you, Jasper. I just need you to put some money into the account, so I can pay the bills before the electricity gets turned off. We can talk later when you’re sober.”
“Stop worrying about the money,” he bit out, taking another step in her direction. “I’ll take care of the bills. And I’m as sober as I’ve ever been.”
Halting not two feet from her, he asked, “Where have you been staying, Grace? With those uncivilized, unwashed weirdos living out in the swamps?”
“Jasper!” Grace gasped, stunned to her core by unwarranted, untrue vileness spewing from his mouth. The man who stood before her now didn’t even remotely resemble the man she’d married nearly sixteen years ago. “What has happened to you, Jasper?”
“Me? What has happened to me? You’re the one out whoring around with those swamp freaks! How do you think your actions are making me look to my congregation, Grace? Answer me!”
Tears of hurt and disbelief filled Grace’s eyes. She’d never in a million years imagined that her husband would turn on her in such a way. But there she stood, staring into the eyes of a man full of bitterness and anger, of hatred and spite… A man she no longer knew. And if she were being honest with herself, she hadn’t known him for a long time.
Memories of him in the past, coming home with that same look in his eyes, suddenly floated through her mind. Had he always been this cold-hearted person, and she’d somehow chosen not to see it?
She moved to step around him, unable to bear his presence a minute longer, only to come up short when he caught her by the arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”
With as much dignity as she could manage, she choked out, “Anywhere but here.”
He yanked her back hard against his chest, his arms coming around her to anchor her against him.
“Let me go,” she demanded through gritted teeth.
He only held her harder. “You’re my wife, Grace. You belong to me, and only me.”
His hand suddenly covered one of her breasts to squeeze it painfully.
Grace cried out. “Stop it, Jasper, you’re hurting me!”
His answer was to shove her forward, slamming her upper body against the top of the desk.
He followed her down, his hot, choppy breaths echoing in her ear. “The wife hath not power of her own body, but the husband, Grace. 1st Corinthians 7:4.”
Grace jerked back as hard as she could, but Jasper held firm.
He yanked the hem of her skirt up and ripped her underwear free of her hips.
With her heart pounding in her ears, Grace’s mind raced with terror. But no matter how hard she tried to fight, she was no match for Jasper’s strength.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Grace straightened on legs that felt too weak to stand. She found it too difficult to process what had just happened to her.
“See what you made me do?” Jasper rasped from somewhere behind her, the sound of him righting his clothes swirling inside her oddly unresponsive mind.
He continued in a matter-of-fact tone. “You know how much I hate bullying. But you left me no choice. I merely took back the reins, took back
what is mine. You’re my wife, Grace. It’s time you started acting like it.”
Grace was too afraid to speak, for fear he would hurt her again. Her entire body was trembling, and she had to lock her teeth to keep them from chattering.
Keeping her back to him, she did the only thing she could at the moment. She nodded.
“Good girl.” He wrapped a hand in her hair, twisted her face to the side, and kissed her. His wet mouth opening over her own triggered her gag reflex.
It was all Grace could do not to throw up in his mouth. He’d just assaulted her on that desk, forcefully ripped into her without a second thought, demeaned her in a way she would never be able to come back from.
He let her go and strode from the office with a wink.
Grace stood completely still until the sound of the front door closing echoed throughout the house.
And then she collapsed to the floor and vomited.
She heaved so long and hard, her sides began to cramp. Jasper had raped her.
The reality of what had happened in that office was more than Grace could bear. A scream welled up, escaping with a force that terrified Grace almost as much as Jasper did. It ricocheted off the walls of that office in an ear-splitting sound of agony that felt wrenched from her soul.
Hot tears tracked down her cheeks; she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.
A phone rang somewhere in the distance. Though Grace could hear the high-pitched trill, she couldn’t process it.
She remained on her hands and knees for what seemed an eternity before some of her trembling subsided, and her heaves began to ebb. How long had she been there? Minutes, hours…days?
She took a shuddering breath and pushed unsteadily to her feet.
Staggering to the bathroom, she flipped on the light and stared at her reflection in the mirror. A bruise was already forming on her left eye and cheek.
More tears spilled in that moment.
Grace fought the moan that threatened and stripped out of her clothes. She locked the bathroom door, turned on the shower, and stepped under the spray.
No matter how much she tried to block out the memory of what happened in that office, it played through her mind in torturous detail, again and again.
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