Deception

by Carolyn Haines

  As she waited for headlights to approach on the dark country road, she thought of the photographs again. If Melanie was dead, who had sent them? It had to be Clay. But why? She wanted to howl the question into the night.

  And who was the woman in the woods?

  Headlights cut the blackness and her tormented thoughts. As soon as Harlan got out of his car, she joined him.

  “Melanie Banks is dead, Connor. I hope this proves something to you.”

  “Maybe.” She wasn’t certain what she hoped to discover. “Let’s go.”

  Harlan led the way through the deserted cemetery. Shady Vale was far outside the city limits, and there were no streetlights. Connor’s flashlight outlined the gravel paths that led among the plots. Most of the graves were marked only with slabs, but there were a few monuments on older graves.

  When the light caught an angel, larger than life with both arms severed, Connor gasped. It was a gruesome apparition.

  “She’s right around here.”

  “How did you know where her grave was?” Harlan cleared his throat. “I came out once to bring flowers.”

  “And Clay? Did he ever come out here?”

  “As far as I know, he didn’t. Maybe he liked the fantasy that she was alive and going to school in California.”

  “And she had no family?”

  “None that I could find.” Harlan’s voice was clipped. “It’s here.”

  The grave was marked only by a slab with grass creeping over it. Connor knelt and pulled the roots away.

  “Melanie Anne Banks. Born October 22, 1972. Died July 19, 1992.”

  A fierce sadness swept over Connor. She traced the young woman’s name with her fingertip. Whoever had been at Oaklawn, it wasn’t Melanie Banks. So who had sent the photographs to Clay and used the big initial M?

  Connor stood and allowed Harlan to take her arm as they started back toward their vehicles. A hoot owl cried in the night, apparently disturbed by their presence.

  Connor told Harlan about the photos. “That was one reason Clay wanted to marry so fast.”

  Harlan’s hand on her arm was light. “This is like his first marriage happening all over again. I wouldn’t worry about the photographs. Once you’re gone, Clay will destroy them.”

  “I can’t believe he’d do something like that.” Even as she spoke, Connor heard the lack of conviction in her voice.

  “He would and he has.” Harlan opened her truck door. “I’m going to follow you back to Oaklawn. I want you to pack a few things, and then I’ll see you to the airport. I don’t care where you go, I want you gone.”

  “I’m not running away.”

  “You’d rather stay here and risk your life?” Harlan grabbed her arm. “This isn’t a situation where you have any control. Clay isn’t the man you think he is. He never has been. The only thing you can do is protect yourself.”

  “I’m not leaving.” Connor jerked her arm free and slid into the truck. “Clay’s gone. I don’t know where he is or what he’s up to, but he won’t bother me tonight.”

  “If I hear from him, I’ll call you.” Harlan put his hand on the steering wheel. “I never disliked you personally, Connor. In fact, I admire you. You’re strong. You’ll get over this.”

  “Call me if you hear from Clay.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Protect my horses. Try to find some answers.”

  “Watch your back. That’s all I can tell you. And don’t trust anyone.”

  “That makes me feel a lot better.”

  “It’s designed to keep you alive.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Connor steeled herself against the overwhelming despair she felt as she turned into the driveway to Oaklawn. Only a few hours before, coming home would have been an occasion for joy and expectation. Now Oaklawn represented fear and danger and turmoil. What was happening around her? There had to be answers. And Clay had them. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, she had to find him.

  Gusts of wind punished the bare hardwood trees and bent the more limber pines as Connor drove slowly up the drive. A glimmer of lights in the distance marked Oaklawn. Willene had turned on all the porch lights. The weight of responsibility was a stone on Connor’s heart. They were waiting for her to return and reassure them. Who else did they have to rely on? The savage attack on Cleo had distressed Danny terribly. And Renata? A child that she’d wrongly accused of terrible deeds—she’d seen more than enough violence and destruction for one so young. A sense of protectiveness came over Connor and she pressed the gas pedal a little harder. Whatever was happening, the children were innocent victims. No matter what the outcome, they had to be protected.

  Taking the last curve, Connor was almost to the house. The truck lights swung over the white oak tree where the infamous James Dickerson had been hanged. Instead of bare branches, there was a body hanging in the tree.

  Connor’s foot found the brake and slammed it down as her hands gripped the steering wheel. The truck fishtailed in the shells and gravel, the rear end swinging around almost ninety degrees before it came to a stop. Panting, Connor threw the truck in reverse and spun gravel, backing up until her lights once again illuminated the tree.

  “No.” The word was a whisper. “No. Please, no.” Connor stared at the man hanging from the oak. The body twisted in the wind, a macabre winter dance of death. His arms hung at his side. The only movement was caused by the wind swinging him to and fro.

  Her foot slipped off the clutch and the truck jumped forward and died. The revolver slid from the seat down into the floorboard as tree limbs raked at the windows. In a sudden panic, Connor restarted the engine, backed up, and roared toward the house. She stopped at the front steps and ran up them, pounding on the door in her terror.

  “My lord, Connor, what’s wrong?” Willene opened the door with fear plain on her face. “What’s happened? Where have you been? Is it the horse?”

  “There’s someone hanging in the oak tree. A body.” Connor looked behind Willene to find Renata standing in the hallway. Her hair was brushed and shining, and she already wore her nightgown. Her hands clutched a stuffed white bear with a stocking cap that she’d gotten for Christmas, and she stared at Connor with a bloodless face and wide eyes.

  Willene looked over her shoulder. “Renata, I thought you’d gone upstairs to do your homework.” She hurried to the child and pulled her into her arms. “That silly Connor is seeing things. There’s no one hanging in the tree. It’s just the wind and Connor’s imagination.”

  “I’ve seen him there,” Renata said slowly. “Hilla told me about him and how they killed him here. She said he’d be back.” Her voice had a hollow, distant sound.

  “That’s a legend, sweetie.” Willene pulled the little girl to her bosom and held her. She looked at Connor, her face drawn tight with worry and anger.

  “Renata, it’s just a story. You know how we like to tell stories around here. I was making up a story.” Connor fumbled through the excuse, her voice as strained with fear and anxiety as Renata’s. “It’s only a story.”

  “But it’s true.” Renata pushed away from Willene. She looked at Connor. “Hilla said you betrayed your blood. That’s why you see him now. Hilla said it would happen.”

  “Have you … seen Hilla lately? Is she somewhere at Oaklawn?” Connor watched Renata’s face. There was an intensity in the young girl’s eyes.

  “She’s gone. I don’t think I’ll see her again. After the wedding she said she’d leave because …”

  “Because why?” Connor prodded.

  “She said it was time.” Renata looked past Connor to the front lawn. “She said that it was time for justice.”

  “Renata, it’s time for you to go to bed.” Willene nudged the young girl toward the stairs, her words gentle. “Have you finished that geography?”

  “I want to see the hanging man.”

  “No!” Willene’s voice was like a whip cracking. Once again it grew gentle. “There�
�s nothing to see. It’s all a story, and by tomorrow you’ll forget about it. Now, off to bed.”

  “I’ll look out the window,” Renata said, turning to walk up the stairs.

  “Look all you want to, there’s nothing there for you to see. There’s no man hanging in a tree at Oaklawn. You know your daddy wouldn’t let things like that go on here.”

  Renata’s footsteps disappeared on the stairs while Willene and Connor listened.

  “Get a flashlight,” Willene said sharply. “Let’s see what’s out in the yard. I can’t believe you’d come in here and say such a thing. Not after that little girl watched her mother hang herself.”

  “He’s out there. I saw him.” Connor listened for Renata’s step on the stairs, but the hallway was quiet. “There’s a flashlight in the truck. Maybe we should call the police.” Connor found that her teeth were chattering.

  “If there’s anything there, we’ll call. Not before. This family can’t take more gossip and talk. I don’t mind the stories about the house being haunted. Even the talk about Ms. Talla taking drugs is passing away now. If we call the police down here about some body swinging in a tree, we’d better have a body to deliver to them, or else they’ll begin to talk all over again about how Clay Sumner has got himself another crazy wife.” Willene’s voice was worn with weariness.

  “Clay’s and Tallulah Sumner’s reputations are the last thing I’m concerned about,” Connor snapped.

  “That’s tonight. Tomorrow, when Clay is home and all this is ironed out, you’ll regret making a damn fool of yourself.” Willene looked at Connor and then away. “You’ve given Renata another terrible image to think about. These children have suffered enough. If we can get through this without anyone else getting hurt, I want to try. Now let’s get to the bottom of this and settle it.”

  Without waiting for Connor, Willene strode out of the house and got the flashlight out of the truck. In a few seconds she was walking down the drive toward the white oak tree where James Dickerson had swung from the end of a rope.

  Connor ran to catch up with her, the wind whipping her hair into her eyes. Willene hadn’t even bothered to get a coat. At the curve in the drive, Connor fell in beside the cook. Together they pushed forward against the wind toward the tree.

  “Where was it?” Willene asked, swinging the light toward the oak, her voice raised over the soughing of the wind.

  “Just there.” Connor put her hand on Willene’s and directed the flashlight. The windswept branches of the tree caught the light. There was nothing there. Not a sign of a body or even a rope.

  “Are you sure it was here?” Willene swung the light back and forth. The branches of the tree swayed wildly in the wind.

  “I saw a man hanging in that tree.” Connor pushed her hair out of her face. “He was there.”

  “There’s nothing here.” Willene moved forward, circling the big oak. She shined the light up and down in a regular pattern. “There’s nothing here, thank God,” she said softly.

  “I saw him.” Connor searched the old tree, too, panic rising in her chest. She’d seen a man hanging in a tree. It wasn’t a trick of her imagination. She wasn’t losing her mind!

  “You see a lot of things at Oaklawn. It would have been better for everyone if you’d left.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Connor asked. She knew what she’d seen, and Willene’s attitude chilled her to the bone. “I’m not responsible for any of this.”

  “Those children can’t take much more. Whatever is going on here has got to stop before they are damaged beyond repair.”

  “I can’t take much more of it, either,” Connor said.

  Willene took Connor’s arm and started back toward the house. “Leave here now. Mr. Clay will survive. The children will be better off. Mr. Clay can find someone more suited to Oaklawn.”

  Connor couldn’t believe what Willene was saying. “I’m suited to Oaklawn,” she answered.

  “You’re unhappy here. Renata doesn’t want you as a stepmother. Clay is starting to behave the way he did when he was married to Talla, not coming home and not telling anyone where he is. For the sake of those two children, leave here at once.”

  “How did you know that Clay has disappeared?” Connor jerked free of Willene, suspicion creeping into her mind. Had Willene been listening on the phone? Again?

  “I tried to call him. Danny was so upset about Cleo being cut and the knife he found and all. When I couldn’t find you, I tried to call Clay and tell him that his children needed him.”

  “And what did you discover?” Connor’s voice was cool, angry.

  “That he wasn’t where he should have been. That he’s acting like he used to act, driving everyone crazy and making the children feel like they aren’t loved. If this is going to be a repeat of his last marriage, I’d advise you to pack your things and get away now, before you get in any deeper.”

  “I won’t be run out of my marriage and Oaklawn by a body hanging in a tree.” Connor walked ahead of Willene, striding long and furious toward the house. Until now she’d depended on Willene’s support. It was a bitter blow to find that it wasn’t real.

  Inside the house, she went to her room and locked the door. She tried Clay’s office, but there was no answer. Benedict Ashton didn’t answer, either. Connor chewed her bottom lip for half a minute before calling Richard Brian. It wasn’t fair to drag Richard back into her personal life, but she had no place else to turn.

  The riddle of Oaklawn stemmed from Clay. That much Connor knew. If she couldn’t talk to Clay, Richard might be able to give her some insight into his past. He’d forgiven her for the last episode in which she’d called him. He’d even given his blessing to the marriage, but not before he’d shown how deeply disturbed he was about it.

  The telephone was answered on the third ring by a young woman. When she asked to speak to Richard, the woman paused.

  “He’s away, and I’m Beth, his cat sitter,” she said. “Who is this?”

  “Mrs. Clay Sumner of Mobile. Do you expect him back soon?”

  “He should be landing in Mobile in the next hour. He got a call from someone there today who said a friend of his was in trouble.” There was curiosity and a bit of anxiety in the woman’s voice. “Is everything okay with his family?”

  “Yes.” Connor sat down on the bed. “If he calls you, please have him get in touch with me as soon as he can. I need to talk with him.” She put the telephone down. At least he was on his way home. Thank God for Richard.

  She paced the room trying to think of what she could do. It was pointless to try to eat or rest. Elvie had obviously called Richard, a very smart move. At least Richard was on his way.

  She found her address book under a stack of magazines and looked up Richard’s parents’ number. Before she dialed, she decided to drive to the airport and meet him. That would be much better. And maybe he’d have some suggestions about where to find Clay.

  Along with frustration and anger, there was a tiny but growing blade of worry for Clay. No matter what Harlan said. Regardless of what physical evidence she’d found, she could not completely believe that Clay was behind all the madness at Oaklawn. Certainly not what had happened to Cleo. The sensation of his hands on her body came to her, and she could not believe that he could slice through an animal’s leg with cold deliberation. Nor could he hurt her.

  If he was sane.

  That cold and sobering thought got her to her feet and into her jacket. She started to tell Willene where she was going, but decided against telling anyone. Instead she drove down to the barn, checked on Cleo, and headed out for the airport.

  It was nearly ten when she walked into the terminal. Scanning the arrivals screen, she found one direct flight that Richard might be on, due to arrive at 11:20. Stationing herself near the baggage claim, she leaned against a pillar to wait.

  Time passed in small, hard increments. She watched the hands of a large wall clock move minute by minute. After three trips to the airpo
rt concession for coffee, she was back at her position when a few travelers began to straggle into the baggage claim. The flight arrived about five minutes early. Connor held her position against the pillar, waiting to see if Richard’s family had come to meet him. If they were there, she’d disappear. If not, he’d be glad to have a ride.

  Even though she was watching, she was caught off-guard by Richard’s strong good looks when he walked to the baggage carousel. Relief swept through her, and she felt tears prickle behind her eyes. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted to see a friend. Her first impulse was to call out to him, but she checked herself, waiting to see who came forward to meet him. When no one did, she stepped forward.

  “Can I offer you a ride?”

  He whirled around, his critical gaze sweeping her up and down before he allowed a tentative smile to touch his lips. “Connor! I got a call from Elvie, and she sounded as if you were in danger of being killed. You look like hell. What’s Clay been doing to you?”

  Afraid to trust her voice, Connor shook her head. “Someone cut Cleo pretty badly.”

  Richard pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as he spoke. “That’s what Elvie said. I know how much those animals mean to you, and I came straight home. Let’s get out of here and go someplace we can talk.” He picked up a single suitcase and put his free hand under Connor’s arm. He suddenly stopped, lifting her hand to the light.

  “Does Clay know you’re wearing that ring?”

  Connor looked at the ruby, unsure what Richard was talking about. She’d forgotten that the ring was still on her pinky.

  “No. I wanted to ask him about the inscription. Renata found it in the pecan orchard.”

  “Forever, my love. “

  “How did you know?”

  “I’m going to tell you everything. RAB—those are my initials. I gave that ring to Talla.”

  Connor swallowed. She let Richard take her arm and steer her out the door and into the night. She’d known Richard and Talla had been involved, but she’d assumed the affair was sexual, not romantic. The ring implied a much stronger bond.