Chase knew his father was to blame. After all, he was the one who molested Faith and bore the brunt of this burden, but he was angry with his mother too. She had an obligation to watch out for Faith and protect her, and Wendy had abandoned Faith to her rapist.
“Faith couldn’t defend herself. You were her mother.”
She raised her chin. “I still am.”
“Yeah? You have a funny way of showin’ it.”
“You think I don’t regret it all the time? I let you both down.”
Taking responsibility years later didn’t absolve her, as far as Chase was concerned. Wendy still had a lot to answer for.
“But why didn’t you do something?”
“I did. I noticed Noah’s fixation with Faith and a few months before I left, I approached the FBI and asked them for help. They requested all the evidence I had, but I didn’t have enough on Noah. He’s a cautious man who covers his own tracks. And after I left, I had no value to the FBI, because I wasn’t aware of his movements.”
“Did he threaten you?” Had Noah wanted Faith all to himself and purposely driven their mother away?
She shrugged. “You know your father. He knew better than to make an outright threat.”
Chase nodded. “It was all implied.”
Noah had been avoiding the authorities most of his life and knew how to manipulate the system, bending but never breaking the law, at least when it came to some things, anyway. Behind closed doors, Noah did all kinds of terrible things, and Chase had seen it firsthand.
“Exactly, and when I approached your sister, Faith denied anything was happening. Yet, my gut told me something was wrong.”
At the time, his mother traveled a lot. She worked for some marketing firm and did presentations all over the southwestern United States.
“Still, you should’ve helped her.” Chase felt the need to blame somebody, anybody.
“If I’d gone to the police, your father would’ve killed me before I testified against him. And then Faith would’ve been left with him anyway. How would my death serve any purpose?”
“I….”
The blood roared in his ears, and he had trouble concentrating. Memories kept flooding his mind as he picked apart the past, searching for explanations.
“I know you’re angry, but—”
Chase hung up on her, because he couldn’t take any more.
After scribbling a note for Mary, he grabbed his coat and headed out to the truck. He needed to take a drive, and figure out his next move.
Chapter Thirteen
A little after eight, Mary headed downstairs to make some coffee.
When she’d woken up, Chase was gone, so she figured he must've gone to work already.
Mary swallowed her disappointment. She’d had visions of waking up in his arms and then making love, which would’ve been a much better way to start the day.
The sexual tension between them crackled and yet they hadn’t acted on it. Mary didn’t know if they were saving themselves from the inevitable pain, or they’d regret not being intimate later on when she was back in her world.
She had a feeling it was that last one.
Halfway down the staircase, Mary thought she smelled coffee. Maybe Chase had left the pot on?
And then she noticed a man sitting at the kitchen table.
“How did you get in here?” Mary flattened herself against the wall, frantically looking for a weapon. I’m gonna have to start carryin’ one with me.
“Easy, there.” He flashed his FBI badge. “It took me twenty minutes to get in. I called the security company, gave them my credentials, and then they gave me the universal code installers use to gain access.”
Hmm, he seems familiar.
“Hey, wait a second.” Mary snapped her fingers. “You’re the man from the restaurant.”
“And I’m the one who talked to you in the Wal-Mart restroom, too. I’m Agent Hawthorne, but you can call me Thorne.” He smirked. “Don’t worry, Chase won’t be back for a while. According to my agents, he headed out to the desert.”
“Why?”
“He got some terrible news this morning, but don’t worry, he’s coping well, all things considered.” Thorne stood and poured her a cup of coffee. He even added the right amount of cream and a tablespoon of sugar, too. Evidently, he’d been watching her, which freaked her out. “I’m here to help you.”
“I don’t need any help.” Mary accepted the mug and took a sip, before sitting down.
“Are you sure?” He joined her at the table.
“Chase isn’t going to hurt me.” Mary hadn’t been afraid of him for a long time. Actually, she was more frightened of her own grandfather.
Thorne leaned back in his chair. “Funny, your mother said the same thin’ about your father’s family, and she was wrong, too.”
“How do you know my mother?”
“I suppose you could say I’m a friend of hers.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, although it started out as official business.” Thorne cocked his head to one side. “Tell me more about Chase. What are you doing with this guy?”
She shrugged. “Um, we’re…” Mary didn’t know how to categorize it. Dating? Partners in crime? Hanging out? Waiting together for an inevitable showdown?
“I see.” He nodded sagely.
“And what do you see?”
“You’ve got a thing for this asshat, but you could do so much better. A forbidden romance never ends well, trust me.”
“I’m not with him, not like that.” Not for lack of trying, on her part, anyway.
“Oh come on. I know what young love looks like.”
Mary didn’t want to discuss her relationship, or lack thereof with an FBI agent, especially one who’d been apparently keeping tabs on her. However, she was intrigued by what he’d said and wanted to know more about her mother.
“Tell me how you know my mom.” She thought back to their seemingly random conversation about his “friend” the nurse. Had he been talking about Molly?
Thorne sighed. “I was a young agent at the time, and I was supposed to follow her. We were buildin’ a RICO case against the Lone Star Mafia. Your grandfather was and is the head of it, and your dad used to be his heir apparent.”
So her father had been involved in the mob as well. Mary was disappointed in him, too, although it wasn’t as troubling as Tucker’s involvement since Taylor was no longer in the picture.
“Why didn’t you pursue my dad?”
“Molly was considered a weak link because she was newly married and didn’t have years of loyalty to the family.”
“So you surveilled her?”
“Yes.” He cocked his head to the side, studying her with an uncomfortable, intense sort of scrutiny. “You look like her, you know. You have the same delicate features, like a porcelain doll.” His voice lowered. “She was breathtakin’.”
“Oh.” So his interest in her mother wasn’t entirely professional.
“And I honestly didn’t mind watching her. By the first time I made contact with Molly, I was already…”
“Infatuated?”
His jaw tightened. “Yeah, but she was a married woman.”
“What was your relationship with her? Did you two—”
“Absolutely not, but we were friends.”
“You wanted more though.” She narrowed her eyes.
“Yes, but it wasn’t to be.”
Mary didn’t know the man very well, but Thorne seemed to be someone with a clear sense of right and wrong. He’d probably been troubled by his feelings and tried to bury them.
“What happened?”
“I did my job. I tried to convince her to testify against her own husband and the rest of the crew, but she hadn’t seen much of anything.”
Mary couldn’t imagine her mother turning on Tucker, but she must’ve been concerned by some of the things she’d seen.
“So Molly couldn’t help?”
“No, and the agency moved onto her husba
nd and tried to flip him.”
“And?”
“And it worked.”
“My parents agreed to testify against Tucker?” Both of them had turned on him. Mary was relieved they’d done the responsible thing, but she had an awful feeling she was missing an important piece of this puzzle.
“Yes, apparently your dad, Taylor, didn’t mind the rest of the illegal activities goin’ on, but your grandfather took it a step too far on a couple of occasions.” Thorne sounded so bitter. “Your mother deserved better than that thug.”
Mary bristled, but she didn’t correct him. “So why are you here? Are you tryin’ to get me to testify?”
“No, I learned from my mistakes.” Before Mary could shift away, he took her hand in his, squeezing it tight.
“Meaning?”
He didn’t answer her.
“Please tell me what’s going on.”
“Let me get you out of here. My car is right outside, and we could be down the highway before anyone knows you’re gone.”
At one time, his offer would’ve been very appealing, but not at the moment. Mary didn’t know what to do. It was easier to stay in limbo.
“I can’t go home.” Mary pulled her hand away.
“I know, but you don’t have to. You could come with me, and I’ll keep you safe.”
She shook her head. “You mean Witness Protection?”
His smile was lopsided. “No, I had somethin’ less formal in mind.”
“I don’t even know you.”
“This isn’t the first time we’ve met, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were two years old and wearing a pair of overalls, with pigtails. You were absolutely fascinated with my badge and couldn’t stop playin’ with it. I’ve looked in on you over the years, too.”
What was he saying? It almost sounded like he wished she’d been his child.
“And I owe you a debt.”
“How so?” Mary couldn’t figure out what he was trying to tell her, or maybe she didn’t want to know.
“If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have been orphaned. I’m the bastard who got your mother killed.”
Mary had a headache.
“You need to leave, Chase will be here any minute.” She stood and stepped away from Thorne, as though he were contaminated.
“No, he won’t. Like I said, an agent of mine is keepin’ an eye on him so we won’t be disturbed. What do you know about your parent’s accident?”
“Why do you ask?” Mary sat once more.
“Humor me.”
“Apparently the road was wet, and their car skidded and then went off the bridge, into the water.”
Due to a hurricane that week, there’d been ferocious thunderstorms which caused a lot of flooding. Since the climate was so dry, most cities in Texas didn’t have an adequate drainage system and waterlogged roads were a real problem.
“Yep, you gave me the official police version.”
“Are you saying there’s another version? The FBI investigated?”
“Yes, since they were federal witnesses, we did our own inquiry.”
“And what did you find?” Mary held her breath.
Thorne crossed his arms over his chest. “According to the toxicology reports, both of your parents were drunk. The medical examiner said they were both well over the legal limit.”
“So?”
“Your mother wasn’t a drinker, and your father had a beer every once in a while, but he wasn’t exactly an alcoholic. Neither one of them fits the profile of a drunk driver.”
She shook her head. “Maybe they were both upset about betrayin’ Tucker and had too many drinks.”
“Maybe, but my gut says otherwise.”
“What are you tryin’ to tell me? Spell. It. Out. I’ve had enough of closeted skeletons. Whatever the truth is, I can handle it.”
“I’m sayin’ your grandfather killed them.” His tone was gentle.
Mary couldn’t even speak, she just shook her head.
“No, he wouldn’t hurt them.” She stepped back from the table so fast, the chair hit the ground.
“Are you sure?”
The truth was, Mary didn’t know.
Up until a few weeks ago, she’d thought Tucker was nothing more than a kindly old man. Come to find out, he was a criminal mastermind, murderer, and rapist, too.
What else was he capable of?
Mary clapped a hand over her own mouth to keep from screaming.
“Mary?”
“What?”
His brows furrowed. “Are you okay?”
“I think so.” She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them, trying to focus on one lingering question.
“If he’s so dangerous, why’d you leave me with him?”
“I had no choice. I couldn’t prove anything, and you weren’t a threat to his criminal empire.”
“But now?”
His face was solemn. “Tucker killed his own son, and you might be next.” Thorne spread his hands. “You have to come with me, for your own safety.”
“No, I don’t believe it. They had an accident.”
“An accident where all the trace evidence was conveniently washed away.” He ticked the items off on his fingers. “There were no witnesses. Two victims who didn’t have a history of alcohol use were so intoxicated they probably wouldn’t have been able to drive. Besides, in the months leading up to your mother’s death, Molly thought they’d gotten wise to the plan. We both know one of those bastards murdered her, at your granddad’s request.”
“No offense, but maybe you’re lookin’ for someone to blame because you loved and lost her.”
“Everythin’ was too neat, and my money’s on Byron Beauregard. He murdered your parents.” Thorne’s eyes were cold and flinty.
Mary clapped a hand over her mouth. She wanted to deny it, but Thorne made a convincing argument.
Did Byron kill them? The man who hugged her every time he came over to the house? And gave her extravagant birthday and Christmas gifts? Had he murdered her parents? At her grandfather’s request?
It was too horrific.
“No, no, no, Tucker has done terrible things, but he wouldn’t murder his own son and daughter-in-law, nor would he orphan me. You’re wrong!”
“You know I’m telling you the truth.” Thorne reached for her. “Let me save you, Mary.”
“I want you to leave. Now.” Mary ran upstairs and slammed the door of her room shut. A few moments later, she heard a car start up outside, and he peeled out of the driveway.
Mary placed her head in her hands and sobbed.
***
“Sonofabitch.”
Chase pulled over on the side of the road and put his truck in park. He probably shouldn’t be driving in this state, anyway. His thoughts were spinning and he had trouble concentrating on the road.
Chase couldn’t escape the terrible images in his own head.
Right now, he was fighting the urge to drive over to the old man’s house and put the barrel of a gun between his lips and then pull the trigger. No, maybe he’d take his pocketknife to his balls first.
Both options had merit.
Instead, he tried to calm down and make sense of what he learned, put it into perspective, and figure out what the fuck was going on.
He leaned back in the seat, shut his eyes, and pictured Faith in his mind’s eye. Right now, he needed to talk to her, more than ever, even if it was his own imagination playing tricks on him.
Chase concentrated until an image formed. And then Faith was seated next to him, in the passenger seat, wearing old ripped jeans, a red t-shirt, and a pair of scuffed cowboy boots.
“Hey, big brother.” She propped her legs up on the dashboard.
“Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”
“I can’t tell you what you already know.”
“Yes, but why didn’t you tell me when you were alive?”
She looked out the window, try
ing to hide her face from him. Emotional displays had always made her uncomfortable, a trait they shared.
“Would you want people to know you were violated?”
Chase understood the reasoning, even if he didn’t agree with it. He’d thought they shared everything, but she’d carried an enormous burden all by herself. Chase had always turned to her whenever he needed comfort, but this wasn’t about his hurt feelings.
“No.”
“Besides, I felt dirty all the time, disgusting.” Faith shuddered.
“You’re not disgustin’, he is. I could’ve helped you. I would’ve put a stop to it.”
“I couldn’t put this on you. We were both in middle school. The only person who could’ve saved me was Mom and she ignored it.”
Tears burned in his eyes and Chase blinked them away. Regret would come later, after the day of reckoning had arrived.
“Dad has a problem. He likes teenage girls, even his own.”
It made sense when Chase pondered what she’d said.
Whenever they’d been out as a family, Noah’s gaze followed young women in an uncomfortable way. He’d taken too much interest in Chase’s girlfriend and Faith’s friends growing up.
He’d always been the one who drove people from parties or practices. Looking back, some of his jokes had been inappropriate, and his touches had lingered a bit too long.
Chase suffered through another wave of nausea, and a terrible thought occurred to him. He remembered the times she crawled into his bed in the middle of the night. Then he’d wake up to find her next to him, bundled up like she was cold.
Faith would wear several layers at a time. A pair of shorts underneath her sweatpants and two t-shirts beneath her sweatshirt. Looking back on it, it seemed evident although he didn’t have a clue back then. Chase figured she missed him and wanted to be close to him, but now he knew the truth.
Faith was hiding from their father.
“Did he…?” Chase trailed off, unable to ask the question. His father might have molested her, but surely he couldn’t kill his own flesh and blood.
“I don’t know, lunkhead, I’m a figment of your imagination, and because I’m not really here, you’re gonna have to find out for yourself.”
“I know.” Chase sighed, sinking back into the seat. “And here I am, having an imaginary conversation with you. I must be crackin’ up.”
Bad Blood (Lone Star Mobster Book 5) Page 14
