The child’s head bobbed. “Uh-huh. Memaw told me. Stranger danger.”
“That’s right.”
Kyle suddenly sobered. “Are you a stranger?”
“Not really.” Jamie’s smile gentled. So did her eyes. “But you still need to listen to your daddy and the rest of your family if they tell you to stay away from somebody, even me. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to such a good buddy of Useless.”
The five-year-old clapped his hands and grinned. “See, Memaw? I told you that was his name.”
The soft laugh Shane heard coming from Jamie was so congenial, so comfortable, he was taken aback. Apparently, interacting with children was her gift and doing so allowed her to relax and be herself. Too bad adults were so perceptive. There was no way he’d ever be able to think of her as anything but a poser, a liar who pretended to be someone else so she could return to Serenity and begin digging up dirt on people he called his friends.
That was part of the problem, he realized. A big part.
Shane clamped his jaw tight as reality dawned. To take her accusations seriously would mean looking beneath the surface of dozens of lives that up until now had seemed untainted. Honest. Not only acceptable but exemplary. He didn’t want to see any of their reputations torn down or tainted, especially not by baseless rumors.
Looking at her across the dining table and appreciating her tenderness and beauty the way he had been when she was talking with his son, it was easy for Shane to forget how dangerous she was to his family’s stability, not to mention the unidentified menace that might be watching her every move.
* * *
Jamie offered to help Marsha clear the table and do the dishes. Her motive was not totally unselfish. One, she wanted to escape the tension in the dining room, and, two, she wanted the chance to quiz Sam’s widow in private. To her delight and relief, Marsha expressed a similar desire.
“I’ll rinse and load the dishwasher while you hand me the plates and fill me in on what made you decide to come back,” the older woman said. “And don’t be like Shane.”
“Like Shane? How?”
“He tries to protect me. Always has, particularly since Sam was killed.” She grew pensive, her hands stilling. “It’s funny. My life is divided into two parts, the years before Sam was taken from me and the years since, almost like I’m two different people.”
Jamie Lynn nodded soberly. “I know what you mean. Until I saw Serenity again, I felt as if the girl I’d been before I went to live with Aunt Tessie was just a fantasy.”
“Whatever happened to your parents?”
“I wish I knew. That’s one of the reasons I’m here. Tessie finally gave me some details about my past and the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to know the whole truth.”
Marsha had gone back to scraping and rinsing plates. “Why didn’t you just ask your aunt?”
“I did. She insisted she didn’t know anything else. After R.J. was arrested and went to trial, Mom sent me to Tessie’s. I thought she was just trying to shield me during the trial. I had no idea I was staying for good.”
“That must have been hard on all of you.”
“Yes. I’m afraid I made everybody’s life miserable for a while. I was mad at the world.”
“What happened next?”
“Dad soon left Mom and everybody seemed to accept it as desertion. However, according to Tessie, both my parents had been threatened with harm if they kept trying to prove R.J. was innocent. After Dad disappeared and she knew I was safe with my aunt in New England, Mom supposedly left everything behind and hit the road—for her own protection.”
“And you believe that?” Marsha looked astounded.
“I was a lot more skeptical until I got here and met with such violent resistance to my queries.”
Silent for a moment, Jamie Lynn mulled over the events of the past few days. “You know, if whoever is upset about my interest in the past would have left me alone, I’d probably have satisfied my curiosity as best I could and gone back to New England none the wiser.”
“And now?”
She huffed and shook her head. “Now? Now they couldn’t get rid of me with dynamite.”
Marsha quirked a smile. “Let’s pray they don’t go that far. From what my son has told me, it sounds as if they were just trying to scare you off. So, what’s plan B?”
Jamie shrugged. “Beats me. I’ve requested copies of the trial transcripts and I plan to try to look up some of my brother’s friends from his teen years, if they’re still around. Other than that, I have no idea.”
“Maybe I can help you.”
“Really? You’d do that? For me?”
“For you, and to get justice for my Sam. That is your goal, isn’t it?”
“Yes!”
“Then let’s finish up these dishes and go talk to Shane.”
That suggestion dampened Jamie’s enthusiasm the way a bucket of ice water being dumped over her head would have. “He’s not exactly in my corner, if you know what I mean.”
“I do, and it saddens me.” Marsha smiled, clearly lost in thought for a moment. “I had hoped I’d raised him better.”
“He had a traumatic childhood,” Jamie Lynn offered. “We both did. Things like that can affect people their entire lives, whether they recognize the negative influence or not.”
“I know. Right now it’s Kyle who worries me most. I do the best I can but he needs a mother.”
Curiosity made Jamie ask, “What happened to Shane’s marriage?”
“After Kyle was born, Roz decided she preferred the single life over being a wife and mother. Shane was devastated when she left them.”
“I can imagine. Tessie became my lifeline after my family fell apart,” Jamie told her. “I still miss Mom, but when I have fond memories of growing up they usually center on my great-aunt—great in more ways than one. She was a lot older than my parents, yet she’s never failed to love and encourage me. That’s what kids need most. I told Shane the same thing this afternoon. Remember?”
“Yes, I do. I think that was when you won me over.” Drying her hands on a dish towel, she said, “Let’s get going. I want to catch Shane while he’s in a good mood.”
As long as one member of the Colton family was on her side, that was enough—and more than she had hoped for.
As she rinsed and dried her hands, hung the damp towel next to the sink and followed Marsha, she grew more and more unsettled. Strange. If she didn’t know better she might suspect it was being near Shane that had her so agitated, rather than the expectation of difficulty in clearing her innocent brother. That was ridiculous, of course.
And yet, a little voice in the back of her mind kept reminding her that the man who supposedly didn’t even like her had repeatedly come to her rescue.
Saving her life by dragging her out of a burning building wasn’t exactly a small thing, was it? Nor was the physical protection he’d been providing since then. If she were totally honest with herself, she would have to admit that she had begun viewing him as her anchor, her stronghold. A haven to seek when fear threatened to overwhelm her.
Looking past Marsha, she studied Shane as they entered the living room. His brief glance passed over his mother first, then drifted to her. Their gazes locked as if welded together. Where Jamie Lynn had expected animosity, or at the very least, discontent, she found something else. Something almost tender.
Be sensible. He’s been playing with Kyle and my dog so of course he looks happier, she told herself.
Unfortunately, that conclusion didn’t begin to explain why she was so happy to see him.
* * *
Shane had no trouble reading his mother’s expression. She was up to something. What the Henderson woman was thinking, however, remained a puzzle. How she could look so appea
ling and off-putting at the same time was driving him crazy.
He left Kyle sitting on the floor, petting Useless, and got to his feet to face them. “What?”
“Don’t scowl at me like that,” his mother said. “We just need a little favor.”
“Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms on his chest and stood firm, feet slightly apart to complete the image. “Like what? Should I brave gunfire and battle criminals again? Or did you have something a tad less dangerous in mind?”
“This is safe. Definitely safe,” Marsha told him with a grin. “Remember all those boxes of your father’s that you stored for me when I married Otis and moved over here?”
Shane regarded her with caution. “Yes...”
“Well, I need them. At least I need some of them, and since I can’t be sure which is which, I’d like you to bring them all to me.”
“Why?” When he glanced back at Jamie, he realized she didn’t know, either.
“Because I want to look at Sam’s old notebooks, particularly the ones from the period right before he was killed,” Marsha explained.
“What good will that do? It’ll just upset you.”
“If it does, it does,” she replied decisively. “While Jamie Lynn was telling me about her parents receiving threats, it occurred to me that your dad had, too.”
“That’s not news.”
“No, but perhaps the timing of them is. All these years we’ve believed Sam was killed by a drunk driver. What if the whole incident was set up to look that way? What if he was actually lured out onto that dark, deserted road so he could be murdered?”
Shane realized he was gaping and that he wasn’t the only one who was astonished. Even poor Otis looked perplexed.
“There was no indication of that,” Shane said. “None. It was just a hit-and-run. Everybody agreed.”
“Yes, they did,” Jamie said, stepping up beside the older woman. “But they also agreed that my brother was the driver of the car that hit him. What if that really was a frame job? And suppose my father was gotten out of the way, like my aunt thinks he was, before my mother ran away to save herself?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Then prove it. To both of us,” Jamie said, reaching for Marsha’s hand and giving it a squeeze of encouragement before she added, “And to yourself.”
“I don’t find it necessary to prove anything to myself, Ms. Henderson, or Nolan, or whatever name you choose to use for convenience. I was beginning to think you were going to be reasonable about all this.”
“I am being reasonable. I didn’t even know your father left behind notebooks until now, so I certainly couldn’t have coerced your mother into asking for them.”
“So you claim.”
“I don’t lie.”
Shane stood firm, wondering what it would take to win their argument. “Neither do I.”
“Fine. Then get the storage boxes.”
“I’m not sure where they are.”
The second he spoke he suspected he had just lost their current battle of wits. When Jamie Lynn began to smile at him, he was certain.
“Really?” she asked. “I thought you didn’t lie.”
“I don’t.”
“You mean you don’t usually, right?”
Shane uncrossed his arms, hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets and struck what he hoped was a casual pose. “Sometimes a small fib is necessary in order to look after those we care about.”
“Ri-i-i-ight.”
Not only were her dark eyes sparkling, she was clearly enjoying his mistake. Well, too bad. He was sticking to his first reaction. Handing over those notebooks would be the worst thing he could do for his mother. He’d looked after her for years, before she’d married again, and he didn’t intend to do anything that would hurt her now.
A chuckle came from the largest recliner in the living room, drawing everyone’s attention. Otis was not only laughing, he began to applaud. “Good one, Jamie girl.”
“Thank you. I try.”
Shane glared at his stepfather but refrained from comment. After all, Mom loved the guy, and Otis wasn’t a bad choice as a pleasant companion for her twilight years. It was the old man’s odd sense of humor that sometimes went too far. Like now.
Chuckling again, Otis waggled his bushy gray eyebrows. “Don’t bother giving me a dirty look, son. Just see that you remember this conversation the first time you catch our boy in a whopper.”
Realizing that Kyle was paying close attention to the adults while grinning at his papaw, Shane backed down. “You’re right. Since I don’t want my son to lie, I’d better set a good example. I think I can locate those boxes of Dad’s things if you’ll give me a couple of days. They’re probably buried under piles of other stuff in the back of my barn.”
Everyone was grinning except him. And with good reason. Not only was he hesitant to dig out the old handwritten notes, he loathed reading them. His mother wasn’t the only one who had relegated her memories of the late sheriff to the past.
Shane had lost more than his father when Sam had died.
He’d lost his only hero.
SEVEN
Jamie hated to be idle for an hour, let alone days. Quiet time gave her too much opportunity to remember how much she missed the kids she’d worked with in preschool before taking this leave of absence to sort out her family’s troubles.
As soon as her truck was ready, she picked it up and drove straight to the courthouse, marching directly to the clerk’s office.
“Hello,” Jamie said with a smile. “I phoned a few weeks ago about getting some old records of the Henderson trial. My name is Nolan.”
“I’ll need to see some identification,” the pleasant, middle-aged woman said. “Since I don’t know you, I mean. Usually, the folks who come to us are locals.”
“I used to be,” Jamie told her, producing her driver’s license. It had occurred to her to keep her real identity as secret as possible, but she quickly rationalized that the people who already knew who she was were the only ones she needed to fear.
She held out her hand for the manila envelope the other woman had produced from under the counter. “My name was Henderson when I lived in Serenity. Jamie Lynn Henderson.”
To her credit, the clerk’s gasp was inaudible. “Oh, my. I see. Well, we charge ten cents a page. The total is—” she pointed “—right here. Will this be cash or check?”
“Cash, but I suppose I should ask for a receipt.”
“All righty, coming up.” The woman’s hands were slightly unsteady as she filled out the slip, signed it and took the money. “So, what brings you...” Blushing, she stopped herself and eyed the bulky envelope. “Silly me. You’re here to learn all about the trial. I can understand wanting to trace your roots.”
“Did you know my family well?”
“The Hendersons? Not really. They lived pretty far out of town and I was a city girl.”
“You didn’t even know my mother, Alice?”
The clerk blanched. “Alice was your mother? I don’t recall a daughter Jamie.”
“My family always called me Baby Sister. I imagine the only ones who knew my name were my teachers and the kids at school.”
“I see.” Her glance darted to the envelope. “Then R.J. was your brother.” She reached to pat Jamie’s hand. “I’m so sorry, dear.”
This show of compassion was a surprise. “Thank you.”
“We could have mailed those copies, you know. Saved you a trip from... I didn’t notice when I looked at your license.”
“New England. Rhode Island, specifically. I’ve lived there for years. Ever since the trial.”
“Too bad it ended the way it did.” She was slowly shaking her head and her eyes held a faraway look. “I used to go upstairs to the
courtroom on my breaks and watch the proceedings. Surprised me, I’ll tell you, when that poor boy went to jail.”
Jamie stiffened. “Why is that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. He just seemed so lost, as if he’d given up hope. I’d have thought anybody who was facing a manslaughter charge would have tried harder to fight against conviction.”
“I agree,” Jamie told her. “I think he was framed.”
“But—he admitted it.”
“Yes. The question is, why did he wait so long and what finally convinced him to change his plea?”
“Maybe his conscience bothered him.”
“Maybe.” Jamie Lynn was nodding slowly, thoughtfully. “And maybe somebody scared him enough to make him take the blame for something he didn’t do.”
Leaving the astonished clerk, she wheeled and headed for the door. The way she saw it, there were two ways to approach the gossip grapevine. She could either try to avoid becoming the subject of everyone’s interest, or she could take advantage of the rapid spread of rumor and see if it rattled any cages or turned up more evidence. Anybody who was on her side might contact her if it got out that she was in town on her brother’s behalf.
And, as she had already found out, anybody who didn’t want the truth exposed would try to scare her off. What they didn’t know was how determined she was and that she was learning how truly brave she could be.
She hugged the envelope to her as she approached her truck. Above all, she hoped that reading these records wouldn’t destroy her fond image of a caring, innocent sibling.
Logic insisted that that was a possibility.
Love for R.J. denied it.
* * *
Shane was not a happy camper. Not in the least. But a promise was a promise. He’d already put this off for several days. It was time to root out the storage boxes his mother had asked for, dust them off and load them into his truck.
He was on his way to the barn when his cell rang. “You’re up early, Mom.”
“I wanted to catch you before you went to work.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Nope. Just wondering if you’d had a chance to look for your dad’s papers yet.”
Small Town Justice Page 6
