by Lyn Cote
“He robbed Mrs. Perkins and Mrs. Carmichael,” Caruthers admitted without any show of emotion. “Who did he hit tonight?”
“If you knew—” Gil ignored the man’s question “—that Wade Bevin was guilty of the Perkins robbery, why did you testify against Dan Putnam?” Anger knotted Gil’s midsection.
“I didn’t testify against Putnam.” Caruthers’s forehead puckered. “I merely testified that I’d done an appraisal for Mrs. Perkins and what I had found. I never said a word against Dan.”
Gil absorbed Caruthers’s convoluted reasoning. And shook his head. People always devised a way to justify their own actions. “You withheld evidence in a felony. That in itself is a felony, Caruthers.”
“We’re going to search your home and shop for evidence,” the sheriff growled and moved closer to Caruthers.
“Oh, I’ll show you where it is. No need to tear everything apart, looking.” Caruthers’s lifeless tone was unnerving.
The sheriff held up a hand, stemming Caruthers’s wordy flow and then recited the Miranda. “Now don’t try to say I didn’t warn you. The D.A. is my witness.”
“You act like you’ve been expecting this.” Gil looked at the antique dealer, dressed in a luxurious robe and slippers. He didn’t appear capable of committing any crime. But then Gil noticed the man’s hand shook as it held the warrant. And he had dark circles under his eyes.
Caruthers considered Gil for a moment and then drew a shuddering breath. “Montgomery, this experience has been like getting on a horse and finding out it’s an unbroken mustang. I initiated this…train of regrettable events. I appraised Mrs. Perkins’s antiques and wanted to possess them. But not pay for them. Greed, simple greed has been my downfall.”
Gil remained silent, letting Caruthers indict himself. He’d been warned.
The man closed his eyes as though recruiting his nerve. “Bevin had done some handyman work for me and I got the impression that he might be amenable to…easy cash. And he lived at Mrs. Perkins’s house. He had access. And everyone knew that Bertha and her son had been arguing.”
Caruthers stopped the abundant flow of incriminating words and sucked in air. “Bevin robbed and attacked Mrs. Perkins. I didn’t want that to happen! Why didn’t he just wait until she was in bed? Why hit an old woman over the head? Cause her to have a stroke? Senseless.”
“You tell us,” the sheriff suggested.
“Because he has a nasty mean streak.” The dealer shut his mouth. “I didn’t notice that until I was already in too deep to get out.”
The man sank down on the carpeted steps behind him and lowered his head into his hands. “But it’s been out of my control since then. And I’ve been living in fear ever since Bevin attacked Mrs. Carmichael.”
“Why?” Gil asked, though he thought he knew the answer already.
“Because I was the only one who could testify against him.” Caruthers sounded in pain, fear. “He’s been demanding money from me. When I couldn’t give it to him, he decided to commit more robberies.”
“Why did he demand money from you?” the sheriff asked. “Blackmail?”
“No, not really blackmail.” Caruthers glanced up. “It’s just because I hadn’t dealt with a fence before. I wasn’t able to get rid of most of the stolen items quickly. I couldn’t give him what I’d promised—not immediately! I had to be discreet and careful.” Caruthers made a face.
“Bevin,” the antique dealer continued, “has little understanding of my difficulties and was impatient to receive his share of what I would realize when I finally sold the stolen items. So when I didn’t pay him, he began demanding I advance him money or he said he’d commit more robberies and implicate me if he was caught.” Caruthers rubbed his forehead and stared at the oak floor. “Gentlemen, it’s been a nightmare.”
The man sounded sincere. Gil and the sheriff exchanged glances.
“So where’s the stuff?” the sheriff prompted.
“Follow me.” With slumping shoulders, Caruthers led them through his kitchen and down the steep rickety steps into his old brick basement. “There’s a false wall here where I hide valuable pieces.”
Then just like in a movie, he pushed a bit of molding, and a panel swung open. “I don’t know why the original owners had this put in. I’ve wondered a few times if this is an old stop on the Underground Railroad or just a place they liked to hide valuables also.”
On shelves in the cubbyhole were many antiques and jewelry boxes. The sheriff scanned the shelves and turned to Caruthers. “We’ll still be searching your shop and this house. We can’t just take your word that this is all you are concealing.”
Caruthers opened his lips to object but then paused, wide-mouthed. “I guess,” he said finally, “I have no choice but to accept this. You can’t dance with the devil and come away squeaky clean.” The man suddenly looked drawn and older. “Do you think…will this mean jail time?”
“That’s not for us to say. Bevin is trying to get a deal from us for implicating you.” Gil tried not to feel any sympathy for Caruthers. His greed had caused such grief for so many, mainly Mrs. Perkins and her son, Dan. Also for Patience, the woman he loved. “So far we’re not making any deals with anyone.”
A few hours later, early Sunday morning, Gil gripped Patience’s arm as he led her into the inner room at the courthouse. He hoped she’d react the way he wanted her to. Being so close and feeling her resistance pained him, like bumping repeatedly into an ice wall.
“Why won’t you tell me why you’ve brought me here?” Patience, dressed in jeans and a black sweater, sounded upset, resentful. “Does this have anything to do with my mother’s case?”
Lord, let this day spark a change for the better in Patience. She’s been hurt badly and I love her so. “No, I told you this has something to do with the Putnam case.”
“What? What does it have to do with Dan Putnam?” Patience glared at him as if he were persecuting her.
He refused to answer, but pulled her along until they reached the evidence room. He tried to hide his reaction to her scent, her voice, everything about her that beckoned to him.
He pulled out a key from his pocket, unlocked the steel dead-bolt-locked door and ushered her inside. “Look at this shelf.” He pointed to a shelf, undusty in the dusty room because it had just been put to use. Tagged vases, art glass, porcelain and jewelry dotted the shelf.
She gazed up at the items. Her lips parted.
He let her go and she inched toward the shelf as though not believing what she was seeing.
“Don’t touch anything,” he cautioned as he watched her. The black of her sweater made her look paler than usual in the stark fluorescent lighting.
“What am I looking at?” She turned her wondering eyes to him. “Did someone find more stolen antiques?”
He grinned, suddenly unable to suppress his mounting joy. “We caught a suspect right in the act of a third robbery.” He heard her quick intake of breath.
“Who?”
“Wade Bevin.” Saying the name irked him. Bevin had lied to him and Gil wasn’t about to forget it.
“You mean—” Patience looked thoughtful “—one of Mrs. Perkins’s roomers?”
He nodded again, his throat tight. Patience, I need you, want you.
“Where did he keep this stuff?” she asked, facing Gil. “He couldn’t have kept it in his room at Mrs. Perkins’s house.” She looked suddenly vulnerable.
He held himself back from going to her. “He didn’t. His accomplice did.”
Patience’s mouth formed an O. “Who?”
“Vincent Caruthers.”
Patience gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.
Then Gil went on to explain all that had brought them to this room and all each lawbreaker had had to say about each other.
“So Vincent Caruthers’s greed started all this misery?” she asked.
“Yes, when he saw the things Mrs. Perkins had, he wanted them and he didn’t want to pay her for t
hem.” Gil propped his hands on his hips, again holding himself back from Patience. The pain he’d seen in her eyes earlier when he’d picked her up had cut him through the heart. “But I’m afraid he’s already paid a steep price for his greed.”
“How?” Uncertainty trembled in her low voice.
“It’s cost him his peace of mind.” Gil took one step closer to her. “He was in fear of Bevin and now he may face jail time. At the very least, his reputation as an honest appraiser and dealer is ruined. He’ll never be trusted again.”
Patience looked down and shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “Have you told Dan Putnam yet?”
“No, I wanted you to go with me to give him the good news.” He gazed at her. “Will you?” Come with me, Patience. You deserve to be a part of my giving him his good news. You started all this.
She stared at Gil.
“You’re the one who believed in Dan.” Gil injected an extra shot of firmness into his voice. “You’re the one who kept him from being convicted on a false charge. You should be there with me when I tell him.”
She kept her hands in her pockets and stared at the dull gray linoleum. “Okay.” Her restrained tone told him nothing of her feelings.
The drive to Dan Putnam’s modest house took only a few minutes. Patience sat in silence, hugging the opposite door from him. Gil prayed as he drove, Lord, please use this to speak to this woman I love and who has suffered so much pain and sorrow over this case and her mother.
Looking first surprised and then worried at seeing them, Dan let them in to his bungalow. He motioned them toward a sagging couch in the small, cluttered living room. He perched on a straight-back chair. “So what can I do for you?”
“We’re here to do something for you,” Gil said after clearing his voice.
“Oh?” Dan sounded suspicious.
I don’t blame you. Again, Gil regretted prosecuting this innocent man. Patience was right. I banked on his history of mental illness. I know better now.
Patience nodded encouragement.
Gil took a deep breath. “We arrested Wade Bevin last night—”
“Wade?” Dan’s face screwed up in shock, disbelief. “For what?”
“He was apprehended in the act of committing a third robbery last night.”
Patience smiled at Dan.
“A third? You mean, Wade…” Dan said in a flustered “I can’t believe this” tone. “Who was last night’s victim?”
“Mr. Connelly on Oak,” Patience replied before Gil. “Do you know him?”
Dan nodded. “Is he all right?” he asked in a concerned voice.
“Fine,” Gil said. “His German shepherd is a retired police dog and knew just how to handle an intruder. Bevin didn’t know that.”
Dan stood up abruptly and took a turn around the small, muddled room. “Does that mean…”
“First thing on Monday morning,” Gil informed him, “I’ll start the ball rolling to have you appear before the judge and be acquitted as soon as possible.”
“I…I,” Dan stuttered, “I can’t thank you enough.”
“Thank this lady.” Gil beamed at Patience. “She’s the one who believed you.”
“I do.” Dan sought her hand and wrung it. “Thank you, Miss Andrews. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”
“No need to thank me.” Patience blushed, looking pleased. “I was just fulfilling my duty as a juror.”
“You did more than that.” Dan still held her hand.
Patience, still blushing, tried to retrieve her hand.
But Dan wouldn’t let go. He appeared unconscious of the way he was gripping her.
Patience stopped fighting Dan and let him keep her hand. Silence.
Gil waited to see what would happen next.
“What will you do now, Mr. Putnam?” Patience asked finally.
“I have my mother to take care of.” Dan released her finally and sat down on the same chair. “She is making some progress.” His tone faltered.
“This should help heal the breach,” Gil suggested.
Dan shook his head. “My mother already knew I didn’t attack her.”
Gil could have kicked himself. Of course she did. Just because she couldn’t tell the sheriff that didn’t mean she didn’t know the truth of who had attacked her.
“But we still have a history of hurting each other.” Dan propped his elbows on his knees and cradled his chin in his hands.
“You’re going to stay in Rushton?” Patience asked gently.
“Yes, I can’t make things right from miles away.” Dan sighed with weariness. “You’ve both heard all about my history of mental illness and how my mother has always been…ashamed and embarrassed by it.”
Patience nodded.
Gil thought of his own father and their history. Then he recalled the pain he’d seen on Patience’s face, heard in her voice the night they’d searched bars for Martina. Why did parents and children rub against each other so?
“I still hope that someday we will be able to have a…better relationship,” Dan ventured. “Maybe not great, but at least not hurtful to each other.”
Gil hoped the same for Patience and her mother. How can I convince Patience she has a right to a life of her own, Lord?
“We were trying,” Dan continued, “and then I got upset about my bankruptcy. I should have had more faith.”
“That happens to all of us at times,” Patience murmured.
Gil thought Dan’s words applied to each of them. He’d started having more faith in God and in his ex-wife and Darby’s life had improved. God, help me have more trust in you.
“My mother needs me now more than ever,” Dan said simply.
“How about your bankruptcy?” Gil asked, unable to stifle his curiosity about the man’s plans.
“I’ll go ahead and finish filing for it.” Dan rubbed his chin. “I don’t have much choice. I’ll find some way to make a living. God will provide.”
“He always has for me.” Patience’s voice lifted with a firmness, an evident faith.
Gil listened in silence. Lord, you’ve provided Patience for me. Help me persuade her that we have a future together.
Dan nodded. “Leaving Rushton now would be vindictive and self-destructive.” He half smiled. “A few years of counseling haven’t been wasted on me. Living with an unforgiving attitude would only damage both my mother and me even more.”
“You’re a better person than I am,” Patience admitted, combing her bangs with her fingers in a nervous gesture.
“It’s always hardest to forgive those who have hurt us most.” Dan sat up straighter. “But unforgiveness is not a healthy way to live.”
Impressed, Gil rose and offered Dan his hand. “No hard feelings?”
“None.” Dan stood and shook Gil’s hand.
Gil took Patience’s elbow and moved them through the door into the cold clear morning. “Well, where do we go from here, Patience?”
Chapter Fourteen
In the chill morning, Gil accepted the hand Patience offered him and walked her to his car. Then he drove them away, not really having a destination in mind. But at least he knew what he wanted—Patience back with him. Sitting near him, she still held his hand in hers and that meant more to him than anything else at this moment. Lord, give me the right words. Help me convince her we have a right to love each other.
Finally, he pulled into an empty parking lot off the deserted square. A few people were parking on the street in front of the church. The square would soon be filled with early service churchgoers.
Dan Putnam’s words about forgiving played over in Gil’s mind. “I feel so awful over prosecuting an innocent man. And such a good man. Putnam makes me feel guilty for the anger I hold against my own father.”
“Same here,” Patience whispered.
Gil reached for her and pulled her into a relaxed embrace. He didn’t feel he needed to clutch her to him. He didn’t think she’d be pulling away. Not after Dan h
ad softened them with his words about love and forgiveness.
But had Dan’s words hit Patience the same way? Or must he still persuade her?
Gil smoothed back her short silken hair. “Patience, we have something precious between us, something from God. I have a sincere love for you. I know that because my son and I have mourned deeply the loss of you in our lives. Please come back to us.”
“I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt anyone.” She rested her cheek on his chest and gazed upward.
“I know you didn’t.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “But our love is worth fighting for. I’m not letting you shut me out again. Ever.”
“I didn’t stop loving you, Gil.” She sighed and snuggled closer to him in the wintry chill. “I just…I just didn’t want you to have to deal with my mother…. I didn’t want to drag you through the messshe’s created—”
“We’re going to be family.” Gil framed her face between his two hands. “I said before that we’d take our time and work out this loving each other. I’m not the same man who married Coreena for all the wrong reasons.” He kissed her forehead.
“We’ll take our time,” he promised, “go to counseling, work things out. Then when it comes time to make our promises to each other, we’ll be ready to keep our love strong for a lifetime.”
“But I don’t know—” she tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let her “—what’s going to happen to my mother. She could easily go back to prison.”
“As long as you and I are free to love each other, that doesn’t matter. Patience, there will never be a perfect time for us to give our hearts to one another. Because life isn’t ever going to be perfect.” He kissed her lips.
She clung to him. “I wanted it to be perfect for you.” Tears filled her golden-brown lashes.
“Same here. But we’re only human.” He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her lips. “We can only control us, our feelings and our actions. We can’t control other people or circumstances.”
“You’re right.” Patience pulled the promise ring he’d given her for Christmas out of her jean pocket and offered it to him. Then she placed it in his hand.
