Trace of Doubt

by DiAnn Mills

  “Aunt Shelby, I’ve seen enough movies to know fingerprints can be removed and others added. Can we go to your house when you’re off work? I’d like to spend time with you, get to know you better, and see where you live.”

  Nausea hit me. Had she figured out who really killed Travis? “It’s a violation of my parole, and you’re underage.”

  “Mom told me you’re not to have communication with family, but I’m the one who came to see you. Doesn’t that make it okay?”

  Something Marissa had claimed bothered me. I smiled into the eyes matching mine in color. “This has been a hard season for you. Do you have plans for spring break? A vacation for you and Dad?”

  “Granddad and I will go through all of Grandma’s things, a hard job for both of us.”

  “Nothing fun?”

  “Money’s tight right now. We might do a little fishing.” She paused. “One of my girlfriends asked if I could spend a night or two with her.”

  Aria and Dad’s plans showed no similarity to Marissa’s claim of the two taking a vacation.

  The bell rang over the café’s door, and Sheriff Wendall walked in. I waved and he approached our booth.

  After introductions, Aria peered up at him. “Are you taking me to jail until Granddad drives here?”

  He chuckled and she relaxed. “I told your grandfather I’d make sure you were okay. Problem is the café closes at three.” He glanced at me. “I took the liberty of requestin’ permission for Aria to stay with you until then, providin’ Denton is present.”

  “Who’s Denton?” Aria said.

  I glanced at the sheriff. “I’ll explain it to her. He’s an FBI agent assigned to my case years ago. We’re friends now and neighbors.”

  “Weird. But I’m good with it.”

  Sheriff Wendall nodded, and I pressed in Denton’s number. He already knew the situation from the sheriff. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. I’m a little slow with the crutches.”

  I stared into Aria’s smooth face. “You’ll be spending a few hours with me after all.”

  Sheriff Wendall excused himself to order a cup of coffee from the take-out counter and visit with Amy-Jo.

  Aria watched him leave. “Another reason I’m here is Mom dropped a bomb before she left. She intends to move to Phoenix, where the doctor says she’ll do better in a drier climate. I won’t be going. Mom says I’m too much trouble. She plans to tell Granddad I’ll miss my friends too much, and I’ll regret not graduating from Sharp’s Creek High School.”

  “How do you feel about living with him?”

  “I’m with him most of the time anyway when I’m not in school. Ever since I can remember, I’ve felt like Mom wanted me out of her life. This proves it. I love Granddad, but I miss Grandma.”

  “I miss her too. We can share special times about her.”

  Amy-Jo joined our table with the sheriff. I introduced her to Aria.

  “Shelby, take the rest of the day off. Spend time with your niece.”

  “But I just got back to work.”

  “Family time is more important.” She pointed to Aria’s plate. “On the house, then have a wonderful day together.”

  Oh, how I’d been blessed with great friends.

  All these years, I’d envisioned the circumstances surrounding my first meeting with my niece or nephew. I expected an explosion of blame and accusations. An anticipated response would have been easier than the gentle girl seated across from me, a hurting teen who’d claimed to rely on her grandmother to fill an emotional vacancy.

  53

  Awkward best described my sensation of sitting on the passenger side of Denton’s rental car with Aria in the middle. My walk to and from work seemed to speed by faster than this. Every familiar fence post, clump of wildflowers, and dip in the road brought me closer to dealing with the past. I’d go to my grave wearing lies like another layer of skin.

  I’d spent so many years with my own thoughts as a companion that I resembled a nineteenth-century hermit. What did I say to a fifteen-year-old who’d been told I’d murdered her father?

  “Aria, what are the plans once you’re at Shelby’s cabin?” Denton said. “You’ll have nearly five hours together.”

  She swung to me. “You live in a cabin. Cool.”

  “Yes, it’s homey, peaceful. It sits next to a grove of woods filled with wildlife. I’ve seen deer, a coyote, raccoons, a fox, and lots of incredible birds.”

  “I love animals. But the only thing on my mind is spending time with you.”

  Denton tossed me a baffled look. For certain he had questions upon questions about how Aria and I would spend our time together and why she was in Valleysburg.

  “We’ll figure it out once we’re there.” If she liked jewelry, I could give her a few tips on how to create a necklace or bracelet. Working with our hands would give us something to do while we talked.

  “Aunt Shelby, how did you and Denton become friends? I’d think you’d run the other way since he investigated the . . . you know. But—” She paused. “Maybe it’s like you and me. We’re better people not to profile each other. Back to my question, when did the friendship start?”

  “I’ll let Denton answer.”

  He rubbed his face. “We decided to like each other when we took the time to get acquainted instead of viewing each other as enemies.”

  “Who took the first step?”

  I burst out laughing. Couldn’t help it.

  “What’s so funny?” He frowned.

  “Aria’s so much like me.”

  “Laughter at my expense, huh?” He grinned.

  “What happened to your leg, face . . . and the rest of you?” Aria gestured from his head to his toes.

  “A truck didn’t see me.”

  “Next time wear a neon vest.”

  “I’ll remember your sage advice. Now I have—” His phone rang, and he snatched it from the dash. Reading the caller ID, he answered. “Sheriff, how can I help you?”

  I observed every muscle and line on his bruised face for telltale signs of the call’s content since we’d just left Sheriff Wendall at the café. Typical agent, couldn’t read a thing.

  “Who paid the bail?” He scowled. “All right. I’ll handle it.” He placed his phone on the dash. “Change of plans. We’ll stop at Shelby’s cabin, pick up anything needed, then head to my place.”

  I frowned. “Can you tell me what’s happened?”

  “Randy’s out on bail. A friend of his paid it. No worries.”

  No point elaborating.

  “Who is Randy?” Aria looked at me. “And—?”

  “Not up for discussion.” I used my gentlest tone, although I hadn’t had much practice around teenage girls. “Some things are better left alone.”

  Aria huffed. “In some countries, I’d be married with a kid.”

  Denton chuckled. “But not in Texas.”

  At my cabin, Aria inspected every room with compliments. “The green is terrific and so are the touches of yellow and lavender, but a burst of red would make it pop.”

  So very me. “You have an eye for color. Thanks.”

  She caught sight of the jewelry on the kitchen counter in various stages of construction. “You made these?”

  “Yes, it’s a hobby but I’m expanding it to a little business. The café is carrying some pieces.”

  She peered at a Scripture card. “Simply Shelby?”

  I nodded.

  Aria gingerly picked up a necklace in labradorite amber, turquoise, and purple wrapped in silver wire. After viewing the cross on the back and running her fingers over the twisted wire, she read the Scripture card. “‘Eva, life. “Whoever has the Son has life,” 1 John 5:12.’ This is beautiful—the necklace, the Scripture.” She laid it on the kitchen counter. “They’re all beautiful.”

  I sensed she wanted a necklace, but what could I say knowing Dad would disapprove? He’d already be upset with her, and one of my jewelry pieces paved the way for a nasty relationship between
them. Perhaps—“Pick out a stone and wire. We have time at Denton’s to make one for you.” I showed her a few stones I hadn’t used. She selected one in amber, green, and deep blue. “Good, what about a name?”

  “My middle name and Grandma’s, Grace.”

  “Aria Grace is beautiful. Do you have a Scripture in mind?”

  “Not sure where the verse is in the Bible, but it’s the one in Ephesians about being saved by grace because it’s a gift.”

  I wished I’d had her wisdom back then. “Perfect choice. Right now, let’s gather up what we need. Who knows? Denton may decide to design a piece too.” I sensed him studying us, and I caught his gaze. Curiosity and something else met me, a frightening emotion. I shivered.

  Denton hadn’t stretched the truth. He cared for me, and the irony of it all was I felt the same for him.

  54

  Aria rubbed her arms and trembled. “He’s here,” she whispered, as though Dad’s arrival couldn’t possibly be true.

  He pulled into the stone driveway beside Denton’s cabin. The two had talked twice, and both times she’d been in tears.

  “You look like two scared rabbits,” Denton noted when Dad exited his car.

  Aria peered out a window and watched him walk to the door. “He’s mad. I can tell by the way his shoulders are like tree trunks. It will be a long ride home.”

  I remembered the dread of facing Dad when I’d gotten into trouble. “It’s not so much he’s angry. He’s disappointed.”

  “Worse is, I love him and I feel awful.” She sucked in a breath. “But I won’t cry. Mom uses tears against him. She’s like a water faucet on full power.”

  Aria had far too many of my traits. I took her hand and squeezed. “Aria—”

  Dad’s knock stole the moment to hug her just once. But she needed Dad, just like he was my hero at her age. I’d do anything to keep their relationship solid.

  Denton opened the door. “Evenin’, Clay. Come on in.”

  Dad thanked him and took a step inside. He stared at Aria and me and startled. Perhaps our similarities hit him hard, the past and the present bubbling into a cauldron of suppressed emotions. Aria trembled beside me. I wanted to push her into his arms, but I might make things worse.

  “Aria, I don’t know whether to hug you or turn you over my knee,” he said. “When the sheriff called, I was afraid I’d lost you.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “All I thought about was myself instead of how this would hurt you. All I could think about was meeting Aunt Shelby, talking to her.”

  An angry flash met me. “Are you satisfied your mom and grandparents told you the truth?”

  She shook her head. “No. Grandma told me to talk to Aunt Shelby and ask her hard questions.”

  “And?”

  “Her answers are the same as yours.” Aria struggled to speak. “But I don’t hate her.”

  He took a deep breath and opened his arms. Aria rushed to him while déjà vu made me shiver. I tore my attention to Denton, who gave me a slight smile. His eyes emitted tenderness, a gift I craved desperately.

  “It’s just you and me now.” The heartfelt intimacy moved me to blink back the tears.

  “Mom told you she’s moving to Phoenix?”

  “She’s not coming back.” Dad held Aria at arm’s length. “She felt it was better not to have an emotional goodbye with either of us.”

  “Granddad, that’s cruel. What about her clothes and stuff?”

  Aria had told the truth about Marissa. How horrible.

  “She’ll send for her things. I’ll tell you more in the car.” Dad glanced up at me as though he’d forgotten Denton and I were in the room. “We need to get on the road.”

  “Clay,” Denton said, “you’re facing a long drive. Why don’t you and Aria stay here tonight and get a fresh start in the morning?”

  “Can’t take advantage of you, especially with the circumstances. You looked after Aria, and you’re not in good shape.”

  “Dad, I’ll go to my cabin if—”

  “No way.” Denton shook his head. “Randy’s parked at his drinking hole, talking crazy.”

  Dad focused on Denton, and I understood how looking at me created bitter memories. “The man who’s made threats and caused so much trouble?”

  “We think this is a separate issue. He was a local police officer who got fired for a variety of reasons. He blames Shelby and me, and he’s already spent a little jail time for acting stupid. The FBI and local law enforcement haven’t discounted a connection, but he won’t show up here and risk crossing a federal officer. Why not stay at my cabin for supper and rest up before the drive back?”

  Exhaustion etched deeper on Dad’s face. Thank goodness Aria didn’t utter a sound. “Not sure what is best.”

  “Isn’t the bakery closed on Sundays?”

  Dad nodded. “We’d be a big imposition.”

  “Not really. Shelby gave me her mother’s recipe for chicken and dumplings. I’ve got the fixings for a salad, and we have a pecan pie from the bakery.”

  Dad rubbed his face. The stress of losing Mom, Aria’s escape, and Marissa’s announcement clearly bombarded his head and his heart. And then there was me, his younger daughter, newly released from prison. If only I could put my arms around him.

  “Supper is tempting me.” Dad scratched the back of his neck . . . like always when he was indecisive.

  His response staggered my emotions. When he’d arrived, I assumed he’d stand on the porch, ask for Aria, and the two would be gone in a matter of thirty seconds.

  “Aria and Shelby can share my bed,” Denton said. “You can have the guest bed, and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  Dad raised his brows. “I’ll help with the food and take the couch. You need to stretch out so your leg will heal.”

  “My mamaw would slap me sideways for being inhospitable. In fact, so would my mother.”

  “That’s my condition, and I cook breakfast.”

  “My job,” I said.

  A heavy, pin-drop pause sent me scrambling for an escape.

  “You and I can cook breakfast together.” His raspy voice and watery eyes told me how difficult it was to make his offer of reconciliation.

  I swallowed my gratitude. “I accept.”

  Within an hour, the four of us crowded around Denton’s table. Strange and yet wonderful to be surrounded by Dad, Aria, and Denton, enjoying way too much of the chicken and dumplings from my childhood. Dad struggled with his words and mannerisms. We all did, but we’d taken a giant step forward. Conversations, thanks to Denton, were easy topics.

  Midway through our second helping, my phone on the kitchen counter summoned me. Not the burner. I captured Denton’s attention. It rang a second time. He left the table and gazed at the caller’s number.

  “Best answer it.” He handed me the phone.

  I saw the number and escaped to the porch with Denton on my heels. He bent forward to listen to the conversation.

  “Took you long enough,” the familiar distorted voice said. “Where are you?”

  “None of your business. Why don’t you tell me what this is all about? Good people are hurt, and two of your men are dead. I’m tired of it.”

  “You’ve seen the results of your idiocy.”

  “What do I have or know that scares you?” Only one person in the world had reason to be afraid of me . . . and the thought bored a hole through my heart. “Tell me where and when to meet, and let’s work this out.”

  “Who’s next, Shelby?” The caller hung up.

  I held the phone in my hand as though it contained answers to the tragedies unfolding around me. “Dad can’t find out about this. It would only worry him.”

  “But he needs to be cautious. I’ll tell him later on after you and Aria are in bed. In the meantime, I’ll contact Sheriff Wendall to arrange surveillance.”

  “Thanks. I doubt I’ll go to bed.”

  “Aria will be suspicious. I’ll keep watch.”

&nbs
p; “I’m so sorry. I was hoping we were past all this. We don’t have a choice but to implement my original plan. How soon can we fake my suicide?”

  “Tomorrow night when you’re home. I’ll help you stage it.”

  Sheriff Wendall’s words after he’d overheard a phone conversation from the same caller swept back to haunt me.

  “The caller is certain you have vital information of some kind. And while the person doesn’t have a problem hurting others, they . . . draw the line when it comes to killing you.”

  “No blood on his hands,” I’d whispered.

  “And I think you know who it is.”

  Who feared and despised me at the same time? Had I been too blind to see the obvious?

  55

  DENTON

  My leg and body throbbed like I’d been attacked by a rabid animal, and I had little worry about falling asleep and missing Randy’s retribution. Or whoever else decided to invade my cabin.

  My mind spun with conversations and happenings. Tonight I’d witnessed the beginnings of a reunion between father and daughter. But the unspoken bothered me more than the spoken.

  A comment Shelby had made to me on the way to meet Isaac and Aaron struck me differently than before.

  “Would you do anything for your sister?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Other things poured into my brain, like how the missing inhaler from Shelby’s purse had been dumped at the Pearce home. The FBI’s money-laundering lead to Sharp’s Creek. Aria’s insistence that her mother didn’t want her. Had I stumbled onto something since Marissa had worked with Eli Chandler at the bakery?

  If my hunch was right, Marissa might have taken the five hundred thousand dollars, then used it as seed money to fund her own operation. I pulled up photos and videos taken during the trial. Marissa’s victim status had given the media plenty of stories, and a hint of a book and movie contract had surfaced, but neither materialized. Other reports spoke of her deteriorating emotions and mental breakdown—her husband murdered, her sister charged, the fate of her unborn child, her parents’ grief, and an uncertain future.