by Janet Dailey
Pulse racing, Will took his place at the table with Tori. Erin and Lauren had moved forward to sit behind him, next to Beau. They’d scarcely had time to get settled before the jury filed back into the box and “Please rise” signaled the entrance of the judge. As they sat again, Will glanced across the aisle at Clay Drummond. Beads of sweat gleamed on the prosecutor’s forehead.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?” the judge asked.
The foreman stood. “We have, Your Honor.”
“Will the defendant please rise?”
Will stood, his expression frozen in a stoic mask. Beside him, he could feel Tori trembling.
“On the count of manslaughter, how do you find?” the judge asked.
“We the jury find the defendant, Williston Tyler, not guilty.”
Will’s knees went slack. He groped for Tori’s hand, not finding it.
“And on the count of obstruction of justice? How do you find?”
“We find the defendant not guilty.”
Not guilty!
As the words sank in, the courtroom erupted in sound and movement. Erin flung herself over the rail and wrapped her arms around Will’s neck. Beau was hugging his shoulders. As if from far away, he heard the judge thanking the jurors and telling him he was free to go. His arm reached for Tori and pulled her close. Quivering, she pressed her face against his jacket.
Looking past her, Will caught a flash of hate-filled green eyes. Facing him from across the aisle, Stella mouthed something he couldn’t understand. Then, with a last, venomous look, she turned and stalked out of the courtroom.
CHAPTER 19
Abner got word of the verdict from the bailiff, who’d called to let him know that Will Tyler wouldn’t be needing the jail cell he’d reserved. Too bad in a way. Seeing the high-and-mighty Will locked up and headed for prison would have given him some satisfaction. But he’d known all along that the man wasn’t guilty. At least now his conscience would be clear.
Damned funny thing, his conscience. He’d almost forgotten he had one until he’d held his newborn grandson in his arms. When he’d looked down into those pure eyes, it was as if they could see all the way into the depths of his corrupted soul. That was when Abner had known he had to become a better man.
Clay Drummond was going to be sore. So was Stella. For now, he knew enough of their secrets to keep them from doing him too much damage. But he was playing a dangerous game—a game that could leave him disgraced or dead, and little Ralphie without a grandfather.
Abner thought of all the times he’d skirted the limits of the law. Evidence tampering, leaking confidential information, looking the other way when Stella did her dirty work—so many small crimes that he’d lost count. He had loved being sheriff, loved the authority, the respect, and the sheer fun of playing detective. But a man with his secret record had no business in a position of public trust. To cleanse his conscience and keep himself safe, he would have to start over.
There was only one way to do that.
Bringing up his computer, he opened a blank document and began typing a letter of resignation.
At home, in a locked drawer of his study desk, Clay kept a loaded .38. Now, alone in his courthouse office, he found himself thinking about that gun and how he might use it to end his life. Even death would be better than what he and his family would face if Stella released that damning surveillance tape.
Through the west window the setting sun cast a bloodred glow into the room, reflecting off the empty bourbon bottle on his desk. He was borderline drunk. But his office door was locked, his staff gone for the night. Nobody was going to walk in on him.
What now? Would Stella warn him first or would she simply leak the tape to her press contacts? Either way, he had no doubt she’d do it. She’d ruined Garn Prescott after he’d let her down. She’d do the same to him.
His ringing cell phone broke the silence. Clay glanced at the caller ID. His stomach clenched.
“You really blew it today, didn’t you, honey?” Stella’s voice was like the purr of a big, sleek cat toying with a mouse.
“Please, Stella,” he begged her, almost blubbering. “I’ll do anything! Just don’t release that tape!”
“You say you’ll do anything?” She laughed, dangling the bait. “What would you say to a chance to get the tape back?”
Clay’s pulse leapt. But he was sober enough to know that whatever Stella had in mind would be illegal and dangerous. Desperate as he was, he had to keep his head.
“Whatever you want, I’ll do it on two conditions,” he said. “First I want your promise that you’ll give me the tape.”
“Cross my heart, honey. Do the job and it’s yours. What’s the other condition?”
“I want to keep my life—my job, my reputation, and my family. If my involvement can be kept secret, I’m on board.”
Again she laughed. “That can be arranged—as long as you’re not stupid enough to get caught. But once I’ve told you the plan, you’re in. Get cold feet, and you’ll be humping an underage girl on the ten o’clock news.”
The knot in Clay’s gut felt like a tangle of barbed wire. “I’m in,” he said. “Tell me what I have to do.”
* * *
Will had celebrated his acquittal by going home, changing his clothes, and working on the barn until dusk. Lord, but it feels good to be a free man! After what he’d survived, even the money troubles seemed surmountable. Now that the specter of prison was gone, he could plan. And he could make the hard decisions it would take to keep the ranch running.
That night the ranch family had celebrated around the dinner table with green salad, fresh garlic bread, and a big pan of Bernice’s lasagna. Now it was late, the meal finished, the leftovers put away, and the dishes loaded in the dishwasher. Erin and Bernice, worn out by the day, had gone to bed. Sky, Lauren, Jasper, Beau, and Natalie had left for the night.
Only Tori remained. Wrapped in the afghan, her stocking feet tucked under her, she sat on the front porch with Will in the opposite chair. The night was clear, the stars like the spill of a million diamonds across the sky. The breeze was no more than a whisper.
Will studied her moonlit profile—the chiseled nose, the soft, full lips, the stubborn chin, and the wisps of golden hair framing her face. There was nobody like Tori. He ached to make her his again.
Tonight could be his best chance to tell her what was on his mind. But he’d never been much good with romantic talk. Maybe that had been part of the problem when they were married. He’d been too tough, too macho, to say the words a woman needed to hear.
Could he say them now?
She stirred, untangling her legs. “I suppose I should be going,” she said.
“You don’t have to go,” he said. “You could stay here tonight. We could even do some more celebrating.”
“Will—”
As soon as she spoke his name, he knew he’d said the wrong thing. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Did I assume too much?”
She shook her head. “Last night we needed each other. But that doesn’t mean it’s going to happen again.”
Her words stung Will like a slap in the face, but he stuck to his guns. “You know it was good for both of us. What’s wrong, Tori? Is Middleton still in the picture?”
“No, that’s over. There’s nobody else. It’s just that . . . the woman you were married to doesn’t exist anymore. This woman won’t answer to any man’s beck and call, even yours.”
“So I’m supposed to wait around like a hungry dog until you crook your little finger? Damn it, Tori, I want you! I want my family back!”
She stood, clutching the afghan around her. “We’ve been a family of sorts all along, haven’t we? Has that been so bad?”
“It’s been tolerable—better than nothing. But sleeping alone and only seeing my daughter when school’s out isn’t my idea of being a family.”
“Will.” Her voice was flat with strain. “Half the single women in the county
would jump at the chance to be your wife. You could get married again, even have more children.”
“Damn it, if that was what I wanted, I’d have remarried a long time ago!” Frustrated, he turned away from her and glared across the moon-shadowed yard. “Never mind. This is going nowhere. If you need to go home, just go.”
“Fine. As soon as I get my things.” She crossed the porch, then paused at the front door. “I’ll be here on Sunday to get Erin. She misses her friends. She wants to go back to school in town.”
The news jolted him. “Are you sure that’s safe?”
“It’s what she wants. I already promised her.”
“I wish you’d talked it over with me before you promised.”
“The trial’s over,” Tori said. “You were judged innocent. We need to move on. Even Erin needs to move on—with her school, with her friends. She needs to put this ordeal behind her and get back to normal.”
“But does it have to be so soon?”
There was no reply. Tori had gone inside.
* * *
Minutes later, Tori swung her station wagon away from the house. Tires spat gravel as she headed down the lane toward the main road. Will had been gone when she’d come back outside with her shoes, jacket, and purse. There’d been no chance to make things right, or even give him a conciliatory smile. He’d opened up to her, and she had wounded him.
Will was a proud man. The next time she saw him, his behavior toward her would be that of a polite, cold stranger.
Welling tears blurred the road in her headlights. Why couldn’t she have said yes to Will? It would have made him happy. Erin would have been overjoyed, and the whole ranch family would have celebrated her return.
But she knew why. The sad, hard truth was that she was scared. Will was the love of her life. There would never be another man like him. But being his wife had crushed her spirit in a way she would never tolerate again. Over the past eight years, they’d become different people—she was stronger; Will, perhaps less like his father. But some things never changed. Going back to him would be like picking up where they’d left off, with all the old hurts coming to the surface.
They could end up hating each other.
Out of the darkness a buck deer flashed into the road, leaping high in her headlights. Tori slammed the brake. The wagon screeched to a stop, missing the animal by the barest inch as it bounded away. Pulse hammering, she slumped over the wheel. Another split second and she might have hit it in midair, sending its heavy body smashing into her windshield. Or she might have swerved and rolled the vehicle off the road’s steep shoulder.
Still shaking, she drove on. If the timing had been off by a sliver, she could have died back there—without saying good-bye to Erin, and without ever letting Will know she loved him. Life was fragile, and no one was ever truly safe. A heartbeat could change everything.
As the lights of Blanco Springs came into sight, she tried to shake off the dark mood. She’d had an exhausting day, she reminded herself. With the trial behind her, all she needed was a good night’s rest. Tomorrow everything would be back to normal.
Everything was going to be fine.
* * *
Stella double-checked the locks on her apartment door and windows before she settled onto the sofa, poured herself a brandy, and opened the newspaper she’d brought home from work. Every night she scanned the pages, hoping for news of Marie’s arrest. So far, she’d found nothing. Either the hoped-for story hadn’t been worth a mention in the press, or the woman was still out there somewhere, hiding from the law and plotting her revenge.
Nothing again tonight. Stella shoved the paper aside, lit a Marlboro, and hoisted her aching feet to the coffee table. Days from now, she’d be safe, where nobody, not even Marie, would ever find her.
A week had passed since the trial. Will Tyler’s acquittal had left a bitter taste in her mouth. But never mind. She had a backup plan, one that would guarantee her a comfortable retirement and devastate the whole Tyler family.
All that remained was to carry it out.
She took a drag on the cigarette and laid it in the ashtray. It was almost midnight, time to check in with her Mexican friend Don Ramon, who’d be waiting for her call in the bedroom of his stately hacienda, south of Piedras Negras.
He picked up on the first ring. “Is everything ready?” His English was accented but passable.
“Almost. Can you guarantee the border crossing?”
“Como no. Of course. As long as I know when you’ll be there.”
“I’ll call you when I’m on my way. Have you found a buyer?”
“More than one. The bids are still going up. Forty percent of the final price for me, yes?”
“Fine.” The rascal would probably hold out for even more, but never mind. She couldn’t do this without him.
“It would help to have a photo,” he said.
“I don’t have one, but I promise you, the girl’s a beauty. Blue eyes, blond hair. And very young. Your friends always go for that type.”
“You’re sure she’s virgin?”
“You’ll have her checked, of course, but I’d stake my life on it. She’s from a good family. Very protected.”
“So it will be tomorrow, you think?”
“Tomorrow after school, if all goes well,” Stella said, trying not to think of how many things could go wrong. “I’ll be crossing the border at night. Wait for my call. If I’m not coming, I’ll let you know.”
“Buena suerte,” he said, wishing her good luck.
“Adiós, amigo.” Stella ended the call. Now everything depended on luck—and on Clay Drummond. She would give him a call tomorrow to make sure everything was on. When she knew he had the girl, it would be time for the rest of her plan.
* * *
By 3:00 p.m., Clay was sweating bullets. Kidnapping was a federal offense. Get caught, and he could be put away for life. But even that couldn’t be any worse than what would happen if Stella released that surveillance tape.
Anyway, he wouldn’t really be kidnapping, he told himself as he cruised past the middle school and pulled onto a side street. He’d only be giving the kid a ride. What happened after that would be out of his hands. He could only hope Stella would keep her promise and give him the tape.
For the past few days, he’d kept an eye on Erin Tyler. She usually left school at 3:15 p.m., walking with a girlfriend. When they reached the top of her street, the two would separate. Erin would walk the rest of the way alone, let herself into the house, and wait for her mother to come home.
This afternoon Tori was in court on a civil case—Clay had checked to make sure. If her daughter followed her customary routine, he would put the plan in motion. What he was setting out to do would be the most despicable thing he’d ever done. But he mustn’t think of that now. Instead he would focus on getting the tape back and freeing himself to move on with his life.
Now, from where he’d parked, he could see students pouring out of the school. It took him only a moment to spot Erin. Dressed in jeans and boots, with her backpack slung over one shoulder, she was heading down the sidewalk with her dark-haired friend. Clay hung back, keeping his distance until the two separated and Erin turned the corner for home.
He took a moment to call Stella and tell her the plan was on. Then, stepping on the gas, he sped around the corner after Erin and screeched to a halt, short of the house. With a worried look on his face, he pulled up to the curb and rolled down the window. Erin had stopped and turned to look at him.
“Thank goodness I’ve found you, Erin!” he said. “Your mother passed out in court. She’s been taken to the hospital. Your dad’s on his way there. He asked me to find you and bring you.”
Fear flashed in her eyes. “What’s the matter with her? Is she all right?”
He reached across the seat and opened the passenger door. “Get in. We can talk on the way.”
She ran around the car, tossed her backpack into the rear seat, and buckled herself i
n beside him. “Let’s go,” she said.
Clay swung the Mercedes back into the street and headed for the road out of town. Stella would be waiting in an isolated spot off the freeway. The transfer would’ve been safer at night, but they’d agreed there was little chance of catching the girl alone, outside, after dark.
“Tell me about my mother,” she said. “What’s wrong with her?”
“The paramedics weren’t sure. She was still unconscious when they put her in the ambulance. A stroke, maybe, they said.”
Such brutal lies, and the girl looked so worried, so trusting. It was all Clay could do not to tell her it was all a mistake and shove her out of the car. But he’d long since passed the point of no return. He had to do this.
* * *
“Let me call my dad.” She twisted to reach for the backpack she’d thrown behind the seat. “Maybe he can tell us more.”
“No!” Clay tried to hide a surge of panic. If she got her hands on her phone, he’d be in big trouble. “Either your dad will be speeding to the hospital or he’ll be in the ER with your mother—not a good time to take a call. You can talk to him when we get there.”
“Oh—okay. But hurry.” She settled back, agitated fingers gripping the seat belt. Clay could smell the stink of his own sweat as he swung onto the freeway. His heart was pounding so hard, he feared he might burst a blood vessel.
Take the second exit, onto the old ranch road. That was what Stella had told him. Drive till you see some cottonwoods and a tumbledown shed. I’ll meet you there.
The exit was already coming up. Clay swung the Mercedes onto the off-ramp.
“Where are you going?” Erin grabbed his sleeve. “This isn’t the way to the hospital!”
“I heard there was a big wreck up ahead. A semitruck rollover, blocking traffic. This road will get us around it.” Clay could see the trees in the distance. The asphalt pavement had ended in a weathered farm road. What the hell would he do if Stella wasn’t there?
“How do you know there was a wreck? Who told you?” She was getting suspicious, Clay could tell. He stomped the gas pedal. The Mercedes shot forward, rocketing down the rutted road. He thought of the chloroform-soaked rag, sealed in a plastic bag, which he’d put in his pocket. He was going to need it.
