Witness

by Beverly Barton

  “I want one of those sundaes, don’t you, Ashe?” Allen read the list of desserts off the wall sign behind the counter. “I want caramel with nuts.”

  “That’s my favorite, too.” Ashe slid out from behind the booth. “I’ll order us both one. What do you want, Deborah?”

  “Nothing! I’ve eaten enough for a couple of meals.”

  “Ah, she’s just worried she’ll get fat,” Allen said. “She used to be sort of plump a long time ago. Hey, you already know that. You knew Deborah even before I did.”

  “So I did.” Ashe sauntered off to order their desserts, coming back with two caramel sundaes and a small chocolate ice-cream cone, which he handed to Deborah.

  “Chocolate used to be your favorite,” he said.

  “It still is,” she admitted, taking the cone and napkin he handed her. During the last months of her pregnancy, she had craved chocolate ice cream. Maybe that was the reason Allen hated the stuff. She’d gorged him on it before he’d been born.

  She didn’t realize she’d been sitting there smiling, a dazed look in her eyes until Ashe waved his hand in front of her face.

  “Where did you go?” he asked. “You’re a million miles away.”

  “Just thinking about chocolate ice cream,” she said.

  “Well, you’d better eat it before it melts.” Allen lifted a spoonful of his sundae to his mouth. “Thanks for getting extra nuts, Ashe.”

  “Nothing’s too good for us, pal.” Ashe didn’t think he’d ever felt about a kid the way he felt about Allen. He didn’t understand it, couldn’t explain it, but he felt connected to Allen Vaughn. Maybe it was because of his past history with the family, his respect for Miss Carol, his friendship with Deborah. Whatever the cause, he found himself wondering what it would be like to have a child of his own, a boy like Allen.

  “Now who’s gathering moss?” Deborah wondered what Ashe was thinking. The man was such a mystery to her. Once she’d thought she knew him, but she’d been wrong. He’d never been the man she thought he was.

  “What can folks do on a weekday afternoon around here for fun?” Ashe asked. “How about a movie?”

  “No matinees except on the weekend,” Deborah said.

  “What about miniature golf?” Allen wiped his mouth with his paper napkin. “I think it’s still open every afternoon until Thanksgiving.”

  “How about it, Deborah, are you game for a round of golf?” Ashe smiled at her and she returned his smile. “You should do that more often, you know.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Smile like that. A guy would agree to anything you wanted if you smiled at him like that.” The warmth of her smile brought back memories of the way she’d smiled at him, lying in his arms in the moonlight, down by the river. He had never forgotten that beautiful smile or the way it had made him feel just looking at her.

  “Aw, are you getting all mushy?” Allen shook his head. “Save all that love talk for when you’re alone with her. I’m too young to hear stuff like that.”

  “Allen!” Deborah rolled her eyes heavenward.

  “Eat your sundae,” Ashe said. “And I’ll keep in mind that you aren’t old enough to learn from a master just yet. But in a few more years, you’ll be begging me to share my secrets of seduction with you.”

  “Ashe! Of all things to say to a ten-year-old.”

  “Ah, lay off Ashe.” Allen spoke with his mouth half full of sundae. He swallowed. “You just don’t understand guy stuff.”

  “Oh, well, excuse me.” Grinning, Deborah licked the dripping ice cream from around the edge of her cone. She glanced over at Ashe, who watched her intently, his vision focused on her mouth. She licked a circle around the chocolate ice cream, all the while watching Ashe watch her. This was a grown-up game she was playing, a subtle sexual game that Allen wouldn’t notice. But Ashe noticed. He knew precisely what she was doing and why.

  His jaw tightened. His eyes shone with the intensity of their gaze, fixed on her mouth, on her tongue. He gripped the edge of the table with one hand and laid his tightly clenched fist beside his half-eaten sundae.

  She was arousing him and she knew it. She liked the sense of power he gave her by his display of desire. If they were alone, instead of sitting in a fast-food restaurant with Allen, she wasn’t sure she’d have the nerve to tempt Ashe.

  “Are you any good at playing miniature golf?” Allen tossed his plastic spoon into his empty sundae bowl. “Hey, Ashe, are you listening to me?”

  “What did you say, pal?”

  “Are you good at playing miniature golf?” Allen repeated. “Deborah and Mother play real golf and they take me along. They’re teaching me how to play. But right now, I still like miniature golf better.”

  “I can’t say I’ve ever played miniature golf before,” Ashe said. “Today you’ll have to be my teacher.”

  “I like that idea. I don’t think I’ve ever taught anybody anything before.” Allen beamed with pleasure.

  Deborah relaxed and finished off her ice-cream cone, thinking how easily a child can adapt, how quickly Allen had gone from a frightened, worried little boy into a secure, happy kid looking forward to a new experience.

  Would he adapt so easily if someday she told him the truth—that she was his mother and Ashe was his father?

  “STRAIGHT UPSTAIRS AND into the bathtub for you, young man.” Deborah gave Allen a gentle push up the stairs, then dropped down on the bottom step. When Allen dashed off, galloping up the stairs and down the hall, Ashe propped his foot on the step beside Deborah and leaned over, kissing the tip of her nose.

  She stared up at him, bewilderment in her eyes. “What was that for?”

  “For being so cute. Your hair is an absolute mess.” He twirled a loose strand around his index finger. “Your shoes are ruined and you’ve got chocolate stains on your blouse.”

  They both glanced down to the dark circle on the silk that lay over the rise of her left breast. “I need to get out of this blouse and soak it before the stain sets in any worse than it already has.”

  Ashe released her hair, ran his finger down the side of her neck and over into the V of her blouse. “Need any help?”

  Carol Vaughn cleared her throat. Ashe straightened. Deborah looked up at her mother who walked from the living room into the hallway.

  “Is Allen all right?” Carol asked. “He didn’t seem upset.”

  “He’s practically forgotten about what happened,” Deborah said. “Thanks to Ashe. We’ve eaten hamburgers and fries twice today, played God only knows how many rounds of miniature golf, went to see that ridiculous dog movie and bought Allen a brand-new computer game.”

  “Should we take Allen out of school until the trial is over?” Carol asked.

  “No, that would only make matters worse for him.” Getting up, Deborah walked over to her mother and placed her arm around her frail shoulders. “I think Ashe should act as Allen’s bodyguard from now on instead of mine.”

  “Oh, Deborah, no. Do you think Allen really is in danger?”

  “Miss Carol, there’s no way to know whether Allen is in real danger, but we don’t dare take any chances,” Ashe said. “I called the police, and Chief Burton has assured me that they’ll send a patrol car around every day during Allen’s PE time. And I spoke to Sheriff Blaylock, gave him a description of the man who confronted Allen on the playground.”

  “Do you think there’s any chance of catching the man?” Carol slipped her thin arm around her daughter’s waist.

  “I doubt it,” Ashe said. “My bet is that Buck got somebody from out of town and the guy’s long gone by now.”

  “I didn’t want to think that Allen might be in danger,” Carol said. “But it did cross my mind that these people might try to get to Deborah through her…her brother.”

  “You could also be in danger, Miss Carol, especially when you’re outside the house. With the security system we have in place now, it would be difficult for anyone to break in.” Anyone who wasn’t a
highly trained professional, Ashe thought. He doubted any of Buck’s local boys had the know-how to get past a sophisticated system, but it was possible.

  “I’m not worried about myself, only my children. You must keep Deborah and Allen protected no matter what.”

  “Mother, don’t fret this way. It isn’t good for you.”

  “With your permission, Miss Carol, I’d like to bring in another man to guard Allen,” Ashe said.

  “Someone else from Dundee Security?” Carol asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Do you think that’s necessary?” Carol looked to Deborah, who nodded and squeezed her mother’s hand.

  “All right, you do what you think best.” Carol allowed Deborah to help her up the stairs. Pausing on the landing, she looked down at Ashe. “You have no idea how reassured I am by your presence here, Ashe McLaughlin, knowing that you have taken responsibility for Deborah and Allen.”

  Deborah’s gaze met Ashe’s. Looking away quickly, she assisted her mother to her room. Ashe couldn’t quite figure out that strange look in Deborah’s eyes, almost pleading. And sad. And even afraid. This wasn’t the first time he’d sensed Deborah feared him, but he couldn’t understand why. Not unless she still loved him. Dear God, was it possible? Of course not, no one kept loving someone eleven years after they’d been rejected.

  Ashe went into the library, closed the door and dialed Simon Roarke’s private number. Dundee himself would have been Ashe’s first choice, but Sam seldom took on private cases any more. His other top choices were J.T. Blackwood, who was already involved in another case, and Simon Roarke.

  He’d known Simon for nearly a year, had met him when he’d first hired on with Dundee Security. The two had liked each other immediately, finding they had enough in common to form a friendship. A couple of former career soldiers who’d been born and raised in Southern poverty.

  “Roarke here.” His voice sounded like gravel being dumped onto sheet metal.

  “This is McLaughlin. I need you on the first plane out of Atlanta. Tonight if possible.”

  “What’s up?”

  “The woman I’m protecting has a ten-year-old brother. Today a stranger approached him on the school playground and gave him a message for his sister.”

  “The bastard!” Roarke said, the sound possessing the depth of a rottweiler’s bark. “He didn’t hurt the kid, did he?”

  “Allen’s fine. I just want to make sure he stays that way.” Ashe knew that if Simon Roarke had one weakness, it was children. His only child had died years ago, and Simon had never fully recovered, had never escaped the demons of pain.

  “I’ll let Sam know where I’ll be. He can fax me all the information on your case,” Roarke said. “And I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”

  Ashe stayed in the den for nearly thirty minutes after he finished talking to Roarke. He stood by the window, looking out into the darkness, not seeing what lay before him, only envisioning Deborah’s smile. He wanted her to smile at him again the way she’d smiled at him that night so long ago. He hadn’t realized how much he needed someone to love him.

  Hell! He was a fool. Deborah didn’t love him. She might desire him the way he desired her, but she wasn’t a seventeen-year-old girl anymore. She didn’t look at him through the eyes of love and see her Prince Charming. And he had no one to blame but himself. He had been the one to destroy her fairy-tale dreams.

  She had offered him everything. And he’d been too young and stupid to realize what he was rejecting.

  He made his way upstairs, turning off lights as he went. Allen’s bedroom door stood open. The sound of his and Deborah’s voices floated down the hall. Strange, how quickly he’d come to feel at home in the Vaughn household, how quickly he had come to think of Miss Carol and Allen, and yes, dammit, Deborah, as his own family.

  He stood several feet away from Allen’s room, looking through the open door. Deborah, fresh from a bath and wearing a navy blue silk robe, sat on the edge of Allen’s bed. She pulled the covers up around his chest, then patted the edges into place. Lifting her hand, she reached out and touched Allen’s face, the gesture so filled with love that it hit Ashe in the pit of his stomach with knockout force.

  “We’re going to be just fine, you know,” Deborah said, cradling Allen’s cheek with her hand. “I’ve been taking care of us for a long time now and haven’t done such a bad job. Now Ashe is here, and he won’t let anything happen to you or me or Mother.”

  “I like Ashe a lot, don’t you? He’s the kind of man any guy would like for a father.” Allen threw his arms around Deborah, giving her a bear hug.

  Deborah hugged him fiercely. Ashe noticed her shoulders trembling. He wanted to go to them, put his arms around Deborah and Allen and become a part of the love they shared. He wanted to tell them that he’d die to protect them.

  Allen fell back into the bed, his eyes drooping as he yawned. “Since Ashe is too young for Mother, you could marry him. He’d make a pretty great brother-in-law.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, but don’t expect anything. Ashe is our friend, but he has a life in Atlanta. Once the trial is over and things gets back to normal, Ashe will be leaving.”

  “I wish he would stay forever.” Allen yawned, then closed his eyes. “Don’t you wish he’d stay forever?”

  Deborah kissed Allen on the forehead, turned out the lamp on the bedside table and walked out of Allen’s room, leaving the door partially open. She saw Ashe standing in the hallway, staring directly at her, the oddest expression on his face.

  “You didn’t answer him,” Ashe said. “Do you wish I’d stay forever?”

  “Is anything forever, Ashe?” She walked toward him, then lowered her eyes and passed him, turning to go into her room.

  Reaching out, Ashe grabbed her by the wrist. She halted. “I didn’t use to think so. Now, I’m not so sure.”

  Deborah pulled her wrist out of his loose grasp. “Let me know when you’re sure, Ashe.” She went into her bedroom and closed the door.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  COMPLETING THE JURY selection had taken all morning, so Deborah had remained at work until noon, then gone home for lunch with her mother. Ashe had told her there was no need for her to make an appearance in court until she was called on to testify, but she had insisted on going.

  Now she wished she hadn’t. Local and state newspaper and television reporters swarmed around her like agitated bees, each person trying their best to zero in on the prosecution’s eye witness. Ashe shielded her with his body, practically carrying her past the horde of reporters and crowd of spectators. She clung to her protector, closing her eyes against the sight of clamoring people, the din of voices rising higher and higher.

  Seating her near the back of the courtroom, Ashe stood at her side, like a guardian angel wielding a flaming sword to keep danger at bay and the unwanted from trespassing on her private space. When Judge Williams entered the courtroom, Deborah stood, taking Ashe’s hand in hers. She sought and found comfort in his presence. His power and strength nourished her own, helping her face what lay ahead.

  There had been no question in her mind that she would attend this first day of Lon Sparks’s trial. She thought it necessary to show the world, by her presence, that she would not be intimidated by Buck Stansell and his gang of hoodlums. Of course, none of them were in attendance. They would stay away, keeping up the pretense that they were not involved, when the whole county knew they were.

  One by one, the prosecution called their witnesses. First, the Leighton police, then Charlie Blaylock and two of his deputies. The day’s proceedings moved along quickly, Deborah sitting tensely, Ashe at her side. At five o’clock, the court session ended, the judge announcing a recess until the following morning. Would they get to her that soon? Deborah wondered. Would the trial actually come to an end in a week’s time? Unless the defense dragged things out, Deborah couldn’t imagine the trial lasting much longer.

  When Ashe touched her, she jumpe
d. Standing, he offered her his hand. “I’ll get you to the car as quickly as possible. Just stay right by my side. Don’t look at or respond to the reporters.”

  “Some of them kept watching me during the trial proceedings.” She accepted Ashe’s assistance. “I saw them looking at me during the testimony. Especially when Jerry Don Lansdell told how I came running into the Leighton police station that day. The defense lawyer, that Mr. Prater, had Jerry Don practically admitting that I was too hysterical to know what I was talking about, that I was a raving lunatic.”

  “Don’t worry about it. The jurors aren’t stupid. They saw through what Sparks’s lawyer was trying to do.” Ashe slipped his arm around her. “When you’re on the stand, you’ll convince the jurors that you saw Lon Sparks murder Corey Looney. These people are not going to doubt your word, Deborah. You’re a respected citizen with nothing to gain by lying.”

  Deborah glanced at her diamond-studded wristwatch. “It’s too late to make Allen’s soccer game. It should be ending about now.”

  “Then let’s go home and let him tell us all about the game.” Ashe led Deborah out of the crowded courtroom.

  In the hallway, the same horde of insistent reporters swarmed around her. Deborah squared her shoulders. Ashe kept her protected, holding her close to his side.

  “Ms. Vaughn, are you disturbed by the defense’s accusation that you were too traumatized by the murder you witnessed to make a proper identification of the killer?” A lanky young reporter stuck a microphone into Deborah’s face.

  Ashe pierced the man with a sharp look, then shoved his way through the semicircle of inquisitors. They followed in hot pursuit. When Ashe and Deborah reached the stairs, he halted, turning around sharply.

  “Ms. Vaughn has no comment, ladies and gentlemen, other than she will be in court to testify when called upon.”

  Ashe hurried her down the stairs, the reporters following, bombarding them with questions—everything from “Is it true Ms. Vaughn’s ten-year-old brother had been attacked by a stranger on the school playground?” to “Is she romantically involved with her bodyguard?”