by Marta Perry
“I’m glad you feel at home here.” She hesitated, wanting to ask but not wanting to offend. “Would your parents like to come, do you think?”
Tracey shook her head, looking down. “Mama prays a lot, but she said no when I asked her. And Daddy doesn’t hold much with church people.”
“Calls us a bunch of do-gooders?” Violet grinned. “That’s okay. We’re glad you’re here, anyway.” Other people were flowing out of the sanctuary now, and she edged Tracey over onto the grass, away from them, not wanting to be interrupted now that the girl was finally opening up to her.
“I wish they’d come,” Tracey said in a sudden burst of confidence. “They’d like Pastor Jeb. Nobody could help liking him, don’t you think?”
“I’d say so. I’m sure he’d be happy to go and visit them, if you think that might help.”
Tracey shook her head decisively, her black hair flying out with the strength of the movement. “Please don’t ask him that, Ms. Vi. It…they argue too much already. I don’t want to make it worse.” She clamped her lips together, as if wishing she could have those words back. “I didn’t…I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay.” Violet touched her hand lightly. “I’m your friend, Tracey. You come first with me, not your parents. It’s tough if they’re fighting a lot, I know. Any time you want to talk, I’m here.”
“I’m okay,” Tracey said, trying to smile. “Lots of kids have parents who fight.” She hesitated. “Ms. Vi, if my mama decided to go back to Mexico, would I have to go with her?”
For an instant it took her breath away. So that’s what Tracey had been worrying about. She prayed silently for the right response.
“Do you think your mother plans to do that?”
Tracey shrugged, face downcast. “I don’t know for sure. But I heard her say something about going back one time when she and Daddy were quarreling, and it made me scared. Would I?”
Unfortunately, Violet had no idea to the legalities of a situation like this. “I think that you and your daddy would have something to say about it, Tracey. It wouldn’t be right for her to just take you away. Do you want me to find out what the law is about that?”
Tracey’s eyes went wide with fear. “I don’t want to get into trouble, or to get Mama into trouble.”
“No, no, you wouldn’t. I wouldn’t mention your name. I can just find out what you should do if that happens. Okay?”
She didn’t move for a moment, long enough for Violet to wonder if she’d said all the wrong things. Then Tracey threw her arms around Violet in a quick hug.
“Thank you,” she whispered into Violet’s ear. Then she turned and rushed off in a swirl of yellow.
* * *
“You’re working overtime,” Landon observed as he opened the door to his condo to find Dave leaning against the doorjamb. He stepped back, gesturing for the P.I. to come in.
“You told me to go all out,” Dave reminded him. He stood for a moment in the living room, looking out the bank of windows that gave a view of downtown Fort Worth. From this height the city spread out like a magical place, especially at this hour, when dusk drew in and the lights came on.
“Quite a view.” Dave relaxed onto the black leather couch. Everything in the room was either black or white, and Landon realized he was comparing it unfavorably with what he’d seen of the Colby ranch house. Here, everything was new, sleek and impersonal. There, the furnishings might be a bit worn, but there was welcoming warmth to the casual earth tones and bright accents.
He sat down opposite the PI. “I don’t suppose you came here to admire the view. What’s up?”
“After I got your message about the photograph, I quit chasing shadows. Like you said, it’s obvious that the woman known as Belle Colby was Wallace’s first wife and the mother of the two sets of twins.”
“You got the photocopy I sent you?” At Dave’s nod, he went on. “I turned it over to Phil O’Hara at Optical Graphics. If anyone can do anything with it, he can. But I’m not sure it gets us any further. It can’t explain why they split up the twins, or why she’s been living under an assumed name.”
Dave reached out to toy with the chain of the pewter lamp on the glass-topped end table. “That’s how I’ve been thinking, too. So I started at this end, trying to trace Belle Colby back as far as I can.”
Landon nodded, a little discouraged. Even if Dave did produce some answers, what difference was it going to make at this point?
“Right. You told me before she seemed to have done an expert job of creating a new identity.”
“It’s beginning to look like more than that.” Dave sat forward, his lean face expressing as much concern as he ever showed. “We’ve run into a blank wall, period. Belle Colby and her kids appear on the grid in Arkansas when the little girl was about a year old and the boy three. Oh, their identities are impeccable on paper, all right. Too impeccable.”
“So what does that mean?” He had the sense that Dave was building up to something.
Dave spread his hands. “That means we know it’s phony, but I doubt very much that we can ever get past it.”
“So that’s a dead end.” He leaned back and realized he was thinking of Violet and Maddie, sitting on either side of their mother’s hospital bed, waiting and praying for her to wake up.
“I’m not sure it makes a whole lot of difference, anyway,” he said slowly. “Belle Colby may regain consciousness and tell the twins what they need to know. And Brian Wallace is bound to reappear from that mission trip of his at some point. He must know the answers as well.”
“You want me to give it up, then?” Dave asked.
Landon knew from Dave’s expression that he hated admitting defeat.
“Let’s not write it off entirely,” he said. “If anything else surfaces, you’ll be in position to look into it.”
“Okay, will do.” Dave stood, and Landon walked with him to the door. “Sorry I couldn’t come up with all the answers.”
Landon managed a smile, even though he didn’t feel much like it. “I don’t suppose we ever get all the answers. As long as we have enough to go on with.”
He kept thinking of that after Dave left, and he walked restlessly over to the windows. It was darker now, and the lights shone more brightly. Out there, people were going home to families, going out for the evening, meeting friends. He could call someone or go out somewhere, but he couldn’t kid himself. The only place he really wanted to be was a five-hour drive away.
He hadn’t spoken to Violet since he'd dropped her off Saturday night. After he’d told her things he never talked about to anyone, not even Maddie.
He hadn’t had a choice. He’d seen her face when he dealt with that drunken kid—she’d been angry that he’d interfered, but it was more than that. She’d looked at him as if she didn’t know him, and he couldn’t handle that feeling.
When he’d told her about Jessica, Violet had reacted with warmth and caring, but she hadn’t been able to understand his guilt, not fully. He wasn’t sure he did himself.
His email ding sounded, and Landon was relieved to return to his desk, shutting out the disturbing thoughts. He sifted through several unimportant items and saw a message from Phil O’Hara—a message with an attachment.
If nothing else, he might have a decent photo of her family to give Violet. He clicked on the attachment. The photo came up, startling him with its clarity. Phil really could work wonders.
Landon looked more closely, noticing details he hadn’t been able to see even with the magnifying glass. One detail in particular. There was a mailbox in the background, with the address stenciled on it. 21 Riley Street.
He leaned back in the desk chair, staring at the address. If the twins had been born in Fort Worth, that was probably a Fort Worth address. It wouldn’t be that hard to find.
If he gave this to Maddie and Violet, he knew exactly what would happen. They’d take the bit between their teeth and charge into action, going to the address, asking
questions, demanding answers.
He couldn’t imagine what those answers might be, but everything in him revolted at the idea of sending those two rushing into that situation. He couldn’t forget the implication of what Dave had found out. Belle Colby hadn’t just split from her husband. She’d been involved in something so serious that she’d been forced to create a whole new identity for herself and two of her children. Something that might be heartbreaking to her children if they learned it from someone else—maybe even something that could be dangerous.
He couldn’t do it. He clicked reply and typed a request, confident that Phil would be able to do what he wanted.
Violet and Maddie would have the photo of their family to cherish…but it wouldn’t include that telltale address. He picked up the phone. In the meantime, Dave had something new to investigate.
* * *
Violet was on her way out the back door when the phone rang Wednesday afternoon. She turned back to answer it, unable to suppress a sliver of concern. Maddie had gone alone to see Belle, and if she’d found something wrong—
Violet picked up quickly. It wasn’t Maddie. It was Pastor Jeb, and he sounded upset. He got right to the point.
“Someone broke into the Teen Scene area during the night. We didn’t find the damage until just now. I’ve called the sheriff and he’s on his way over. I thought you’d want to be here, too.”
“I’ll be right there.” She was already reaching for her bag and her keys. “How bad is the damage?”
“Bad,” he said soberly. “There’s the sheriff now—I’ll have to go.”
Violet hung up. Her feet seemed glued to the spot. She didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to see what had been done.
But that was cowardly. She grabbed her bag and hurried out the hall, calling to Lupita that she’d be back later and not stopping for questions.
She raced out to the SUV, but before she could unlock it, she spotted the cloud of dust that meant another vehicle was coming down the lane. She looked, shielding her eyes.
The car pulled up next to her and Landon smiled at her. The smile faded as he saw her expression. “Violet? What’s wrong?”
“Vandals. At the church.” She began to feel that her tongue wasn’t connected to her brain. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
“Get in. I’ll drive you.”
“You don’t need—”
“You’re upset. You shouldn’t be behind the wheel. I’m coming anyway, and it makes more sense to let me drive you than to have me follow you.”
Wordless, she went around the car and slid into the passenger seat. She’d resent his assumption of authority if not for the fact that he was probably right.
“I don’t know why I feel so shaky at the news. It’s not nearly as important as Mom’s injury.” She clasped her hands together.
“That’s probably why.” Landon went out the lane at a speed that had gravel spurting up, pinging against the underside of the car. “You’ve been running on nothing but nerve for too long. This is one thing too many.”
She rubbed the back of her neck. He might have something at that. The least thing seemed to have the ability to drive her close to tears lately.
“Do you know how bad the vandalism was?” he asked.
“No. Just that it was in the area we use for Teen Scene. Do you think—surely none of the kids who come would do that!”
“No point in jumping to conclusions until you learn more.” Landon reached into the back and grabbed something. Bringing it between the seats, he put a brown-paper-wrapped package in her lap. “A present for you.”
She looked at him, but his gaze was on the road unfolding ahead of them. His clean, spare profile was unexpectedly dear to her.
She shifted her gaze to the package, afraid of giving herself away, and loosened the tape on it. She smoothed the paper back.
It was the photo of her family, restored to a condition that was probably better than it had been originally. The faces were clear—Belle smiling at the camera, Brian looking down at the little boy whose hand he held. Jack? But it could as easily be Grayson.
“Oh, Landon.” Her voice choked. “It’s wonderful. Thank you so much.”
“It’s nothing,” he said, and there seemed to be a faint reservation in his voice. “There are copies in the back for Maddie, Grayson and Jack as well.”
“That was so thoughtful of you.” She longed to clasp his hand in thanks, but that probably wasn’t a good idea when he was driving.
He shrugged. “Forget it. I knew the right person for the job, that’s all.”
They were in town already, heading for the church, and her nerves tightened at the thought of what waited there. She tried to shake off the worry, looking at Landon instead.
“You haven’t told me what you’re doing back in Grasslands. You didn’t need to drive all this way in order to deliver the photographs.”
“I’m more trustworthy than the mail,” he said lightly. “Besides, as I told you, I can run my business from anywhere, as long as I have an internet connection.”
“And you find Grasslands an inspiring place in which to work?” she asked, trying to match his light tone.
He pulled into a parking space by the side door of the church and turned to give her a look that brought a flush to her cheeks. “I find it very inspiring,” he said, in a voice that had suddenly grown husky.
Violet slid out quickly. “We…we’d better go inside.” And she better figure out a way to control both her face and her voice before she saw anyone else.
Sadie met them in the hallway, looking more mouse-like than ever, eyes scared behind her glasses. “Pastor Jeb said to meet him downstairs,” she said, glancing from Violet to Landon.
“Thanks, Sadie. We’ll go right down.” Somehow she always felt she had to be reassuring when she spoke with Sadie, but the effort made her feel a bit more under control.
Violet hurried down the stairs, aware of Landon close behind her. The Teen Scene’s troubles really weren’t his concern, but it was comforting to have someone on her side.
A chill struck her. Landon had expressed disapproval of the project the first time he’d come. Maybe he wasn’t so completely on her side in this.
She was in the social room before she could analyze his reaction any further. She stopped, shocked. Vandalism, Pastor Jeb had said. She’d expected a few broken windows, maybe some pieces of furniture thrown around. This was more like wholesale destruction.
One couch had been slashed, its stuffing hanging out forlornly. The other had been splashed with red paint. The artist hadn’t stopped there with the paint—it was splattered liberally over the rug and splashed on the walls, then used to write a few ugly words. The television had been smashed, leaving shards of glass on the floor.
Looking through the open doorway to the game room, she could see that the Ping-Pong table was broken—the legs wrenched off so that it tilted listlessly against the wall. A step forward showed her more of the room—the board games tossed from their shelves and scattered on the floor, the air-hockey table smashed almost beyond recognition.
Landon’s hands came down on her shoulders, steadying her. “It sounds as if the pastor is in the gym,” he said. “Maybe we should go in there.”
She nodded numbly and let him propel her past the damage and into the gym. Pastor Jeb was there, talking with Sheriff George Cole, but he looked up to give her a reassuring smile. Coming to her senses and realizing they hadn’t met, she introduced Landon to the two men.
“Landon is a friend of my sister’s from Fort Worth,” she added. “He helped us out at Teen Scene this past weekend.”
Sheriff Cole eyed him for a moment, but then he nodded. “Glad you have somebody with you, Violet. This is an ugly thing to see, especially after you put so much work into the place and all.”
She nodded, not wanting to think about all the hours of scrounging up cast-off furniture and begging for donations to cover the cost of paint and equipment. “Who could ha
ve done this? How did they even get in? We locked up when we left Saturday night, I know we did.”
“Broke in that door with a crowbar, looks like,” the sheriff said. “The pastor was telling me that’s the door you use to let kids in here, that right?”
She nodded, not sure what he was driving at.
“Seems like it might have been done by someone who’d been here for that program of yours. They’d naturally come to that door. Anyone intent on doing damage to the church would head for the sanctuary, I’d think.”
That made sense, much as she hated to admit it, and she looked at Sheriff Cole with renewed respect. He’d been on the force here for as long as she could remember, a sturdy, solid symbol of the law.
“I’d hate to think the kids we host would do something like that. Why would they want to destroy the place they come to for fun?”
Sheriff Cole shrugged. “Teens can take offense easily sometimes. Get the idea you weren’t treating them right, or weren’t doing enough. Or they were being just plain mean. Anyone you’ve had a run-in with?”
Her brain didn’t seem to be working. It was Landon who spoke.
“There were three guys we had to kick out on Saturday night. They’d been drinking, and Ms. Colby wouldn’t let them come back in. They didn’t take it well.”
“I don’t think they’d do this,” she protested, but of course she couldn’t imagine anyone she knew doing such damage.
“You know the names?” The sheriff had his pen poised over his notebook.
She hesitated, not wanting to be the one to set the police on the kids.
“The ringleader was Sam something,” Landon said, clearly not feeling any such reluctance. “I don’t think I heard the others’ names.”
“Never mind, I can fill in the blanks. Sam Donner, along with his buddies Danny and Kevin, was it?” His keen eyes fixed on Violet’s face, requiring an answer.
“Yes, that’s right,” she said. “But I still feel—”
The person who’d just entered gained their attention by the simple expedient of pounding his cane on the wooden floorboards. They all swung toward the sound.
Davis Stuart swept them with an ice-blue gaze, his eyes bright in his leathery face, his hair snowy under the Stetson he always wore. Violet could almost hear Pastor Jeb sigh. With Davis as the chair of his church board, the pastor didn’t have many easy meetings.
