Matt searched the porch where he’d found Gracie. A wet spot caught his attention. He stooped and ran his fingers over the weathered wood, then raised his hand to his face. Only water, most likely a rain left over from yesterday’s storm. What was going on? Something had to set her off. This wasn’t her normal behavior. Disgusted he was no closer to finding answers, he entered the house. She was the only witness. In order to figure out this puzzle, she’d have to talk.
Gracie rested on the couch, her head leaned on one fist. She turned when he entered, obviously more in control.
He smiled as he sat beside her. “You wanna talk about this?”
Fine lines edged her lips. “What do you want to know?”
Matt frowned at her acidic tone. Why the quick turnaround ? “Well, for one thing where all that blood came from.”
She looked at him incredulously for a moment then titled her head back and laughed—a strange, almost maniacal laugh. “You didn’t find anything when you went outside, did you?”
He shook his head, befuddled. Why was she acting this way?
Her odd laughter commenced again, but was quickly silenced by a half sob.
Matt grabbed both her shoulders. “Gracie, talk to me.”
She said nothing, but a stray tear wandered down her left cheek.
“C’mon, Gracie, let me in. What happened?”
For a brief moment she actually seemed to consider his words, but then shook her head. “There’s obviously nothing to talk about.” She snapped the words and threw the blanket into a heap on the floor. “I’ll see you to the door.”
“Why are you doing this?” Confusion spiraled through him as he followed her.
Gracie faced him with cold contempt. “I think you should know that you caught me at a weak moment yesterday. I’m sorry if I made you think we had any chance at a relationship.”
Her steel-fisted word slammed into his gut, temporarily knocking the air from his lungs. This couldn’t be happening. “Gracie, please, let’s talk through this.”
“I’ve already told you, there’s nothing to talk about.” She yanked open the front door. “See you around.”
Before he fully realized what happened, Matt landed on Gracie’s front porch with the door slammed behind him. He whirled around and beat his fist against the door. “Gracie, let me in. We need to talk.” No response. He tried the handle. Cold reality trickled over him like acid. He turned, his jaw slack, and stared into nothingness for an unknown amount of time before he trudged to the car.
He drove around town for at least an hour, trying to figure out his options. There must be a way to resolve this. Maybe she’d calmed down enough to talk rationally. Matt pulled into the grocery store parking lot and pulled out his cell phone. The phone rang, over and over again. “Come on, Gracie, answer the phone.” After twelve rings he gave up. When he at last turned on the road that led to the ranch, he’d reached a decision.
Gracie slammed the door behind Matt and immediately slumped to the floor, tears flowing freely, her shoulders shaking with unvoiced sobs. It had taken every ounce of her energy to pull off the drama she’d dreamed up while Matt was outside checking the backyard. Learning that during the brief time they were indoors someone had carted off Millie’s body had had fueled the masquerade, as she harnessed her emotions and used them to her advantage.
Matt pounded on the door and tried the handle, sounding hurt and confused. Another wave of pain slammed into her heart and more tears from some never-ending reservoir spilled down her face. How could she survive without Millie and Matt?
She latched onto the doorknob to raise herself from the floor, tempted to swing open the door and race after him, but she couldn’t risk the chance that he’d be in harm’s way.
A warning—that’s what Millie’s death had been—a warning from Elena that she’d stop at nothing to get her way.
Grace stumbled to the sink and pulled off a nearby paper towel to blow her nose, then ran water to wash her face. After days of working at the DA’s office, she had no more proof than before. Who’d believe her without any evidence—especially after the events of the past few days? She wouldn’t believe it herself had she not experienced it. Or maybe she really was going crazy. Had she imagined the patio chair, the phone calls, Millie?
No. It was all real. She cupped her hands beneath the running water and drank freely. Then she sloshed the rest over her face. It dripped down her cheeks and onto her shirt.
Father God, help me.
Forgive. Seventy times seven.
The words rolled in her head like a nest of scorpions. She raised a tearful gaze to the ceiling. I can’t, God. You can’t ask me to do this. She’s cost me so much—peace of mind, my relationship with Andy, and now Matt. Why should I forgive?
Because I forgave you.
The thought chafed. Yes, Christ’s work on the cross had removed her sin as far as the east from the west. But she’d never intentionally hurt anyone, never murdered, tried to live according to God’s Word. Surely unintentional sin wasn’t as bad as someone who sinned by blatantly hurting others.
God, You’ll have to give me the strength. I’m not capable. She staggered to the bedroom, her thoughts jumbled, her body weary.
The phone rang, and adrenaline surged through her. Grace ripped the phone from the wall and hurled it across the room where it landed with a crash. She had no choice but to go through with her original plan to expose Elena’s evil deeds for what they were. Until her mission was completed, she wouldn’t quit, no matter the cost.
At work on Tuesday Grace kept to herself—especially avoiding Elena—and did all she could to focus on her research. But her tortured thoughts turned often to Matt, and she raised prayers to heaven on his behalf, pleading for an opportunity to one day set things right between them. Late that afternoon, she leaned back in her desk chair, satisfied with all she’d accomplished. She’d complete the horrific research list.
Grace glanced toward Elena’s office. The light was on, which meant she was still here. Good. There was still time to launch part of her investigation before her boss left work. Several minutes later, she pulled up outside the woman’s house, her pulse thudding in her temples. This move was a risk to be sure, one she had to take, but she’d better put it in high gear before Elena arrived to complicate matters. She hurried through the beautifully-landscaped yard and rang the doorbell.
Consuela opened the door, her smile bright. “What a nice surprise! Please come in.”
She entered the grand foyer, her palms sweaty as she faced Consuela.
The older woman searched her face, her smile slowly fading. She lowered her head, and then turned a knowing gaze toward Grace. “I’ve been expecting this day. I see questions in your eyes. Let’s have a seat.” With weary eyes she glanced at a pedestal clock on the fireplace, its steady tick audible in the hushed silence of the space. “We don’t have long before Elena gets home, so we’d better cut to the chase. How can I help you?”
Grace sank into the overstuffed sofa and leaned forward. “I know Elena is under tremendous pressure, but . . . ” How could she confront this lovely woman with her daughter’s issues?
Consuela smiled sadly. “It’s okay, Grace. I, of all people, am most aware of my daughter’s shortcomings. I can see she’s hurt you, but I can also see that you’re trying to live up to your lovely name. Thank you for that.”
“I want to help her, but I have to know what’s going on.”
The woman shook her head. “I wish I knew. This job has changed her. She wasn’t always so sharp-tongued and bitter.”
Sharp-tongued? That was like saying tigers had a few claws. “Have you ever witnessed Elena being cruel?”
Her eyes darkened. “Cruel? In what way?”
“More than just her sharp tongue. Things that could be considered threatening.” Grace wanted to say more, but thought better of it. No need to cause the woman anymore grief.
Consuela considered the question. “I’ve never seen an
ything.” She paused mid-sentence and inhaled. “But we’re all capable of terrible things given the right set of circumstances.”
True. Hadn’t she proved the fact when she’d entered Andy’s office without his knowledge or permission? She removed a business card and pen from her purse and scribbled her new cell number, then handed the card to Consuela. “Call me for any reason, but please don’t share my number with anyone else.”
The woman stood and pocketed the card, a kind smile in place. “I won’t. I also won’t tell her you were here. It could cause problems, as I’m sure you understand.”
Grace hugged the kind woman. What a burden she carried. “Please know that you and your family are in my prayers.”
Consuela’s eyes misted over. “And you in mine.”
Like a mass of interconnected gears, Grace’s mind gyrated as she made her way through Miller’s Creek to her house. She still had nothing concrete, but knowing that Consuela also recognized a problem somehow made her feel better.
Instead of turning into her driveway, she continued down the dusty dirt road to the Cates’ place, less than a mile away. Wanda Cates, the mayor’s secretary, was well-known in Miller’s Creek for her sharp eyes. If anyone had seen anything out of the ordinary yesterday, it would be Wanda.
The door to the little rock house swung open on the first knock, and Wanda flung open the squeaky screen door as well. “Hello, neighbor. What in tarnation brings you down this way?”
Grace smiled at the woman’s greeting. “Hi, Mrs. Wanda. I actually have a few questions to ask. Do you mind if we talk?”
“Not at all, not at all. Come in, come in.” She stepped aside and waved her through the doorway.
It took a moment for Grace’s eyes to adjust to the dark room. Aged oak floors, antique furniture, and over-abundant knickknacks slowly came into focus, and the room reeked of Harvey Cates’ cheap cigars.
“Have a seat, have a seat.” Wanda clamped a bony hand on her shoulder, motioned to the couch and then roosted in a nearby chair. “What’s on your mind?”
Now that was a loaded question. Best to stick to the point. “I wondered if you’d seen anything unusual at my house yesterday. I think someone may have been there while I was at work.”
“Now that you mention it, there was someone there when I came home for lunch. I was runnin’ a bit behind because Steve had some filin’ for me to do—that man always has filin’ for me to do—but a white van was in your driveway. Looked like they were fixin’ your fence. I was just tellin’ Gladys earlier today that y’all must be havin’ work done while your Papa’s away.”
Grace fought to keep a smirk off her face. Ahh, the good old Miller’s Creek grapevine. “Well, be sure to thank Mr. Cates for taking care of the farm animals. I know Papa appreciates it.”
Wanda frowned. “In all the years we’ve lived near y’all, I’ve never known your Papa to go away like this.”
A point she’d considered at least a thousand times. “I know he misses my brothers and their families and wants to spend the Thanksgiving with them.”
“And what about you? What are your plans? Headed south?”
Grace shook her head. “Um, no, I…I have work to do.”
A stern look descended on Wanda’s features. “Well, if you ask me, you shoulda never have taken that job in Morganville, especially after all Andy Tyler’s gone and done for you.”
The words stung, but Grace managed to keep a pleasant look on her face. “I’m very appreciative of Andy, but this is something I had to do.”
Wanda sniffed. “Well, that being said, we’d be pleased and proud if you’d join our family for Thanksgivin’ dinner.”
“Thanks, but I already have other plans.” Plans to turn over every rock until she uncovered Elena’s agenda. “The person working on the fence, was it a man or a woman?”
“Goodness, child, don’t you know?” She clucked the words. “I’m guessin’ it was a man, but I didn’t recognize him with his paint clothes and big hat. He did a mighty fine job on that fence now, didn’t he? It hasn’t looked that good since your Mama . . . ” A look of horror fell on the woman’s face.
Grace forced a smile. The awkward moments when people mouthed unthinking words were almost as difficult to deal with as her mother’s death.
“Gracious me, I didn’t intend to . . . I mean, I’m so sorry . . .”
“It’s okay, Mrs. Wanda. I know you meant no harm.”
Wanda reached over and patted her hand. “You’ve always been such a sweet girl, Gracie. I know your Mama would be so proud of you.”
“Thanks.” She attempted another smile. “Forgive me if I’m asking too many questions, but did the van have any sort of lettering on it, maybe the name of a company?”
The woman stared off into space and scratched her chin. “Not that I recall.”
No lead here. With a sigh, she rose to her feet. “Thanks so much for all your help, Mrs. Wanda. Guess I’d better be going. Have a wonderful Thanksgiving.” Grace stepped onto the concrete porch, Wanda close on her heels.
“You, too, Gracie. Let us know if you need anything.”
With a wave, Grace hoisted herself into the old pickup and turned the ignition. It roared to life with the new battery Matt had purchased and installed. She backed onto the dusty road and headed toward the house. At least now she had proof that she wasn’t going crazy. Someone had repaired the fence, and she had a witness. Though her case wasn’t airtight, it was past time to let the authorities know her suspicions, especially with everyone about to be snowed under with holiday festivities. She passed the small frame house and made her way to the police station.
Ernie’s older model police car still stood in the parking lot. Good. Grace parked, breathing a quick prayer for guidance. A bell rang as she entered the room, the air thick with stale coffee.
The policeman poked his bald head out of the office door.
“Hey, Ernie, you’re just the guy I’m looking for.”
His eyes held a peculiar soberness instead of the friendly light. “Hi, Gracie. Uh, would you have a seat for now? I’ll be with you in a sec.”
“Sure.” A frown took up residence on her forehead. He seemed upset about something. Probably whatever case he was involved with at the moment. Grace removed her coat and took a seat in a chrome and fake leather chair as Ernie closed his office door behind him.
A few minutes later, the door re-opened, and Ernie stepped out. “You can come in now.”
She gathered her things and traipsed to his office. “I promise not to take too much of your time, but I need to talk to you.”
Ernie didn’t respond, but moved behind his desk.
Grace rounded the corner expecting an empty office. Instead, Elena Delgado and one of the private investigators were seated in the only two chairs. The petite prosecutor looked over at her, a cold, but satisfied smirk plastered across her face.
Ernie faced her, both hands on his hips, his thick moustache wobbling back and forth. “Before you say anything else, Gracie, hear me out.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as though in pain. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in a court of law.” Ernie’s lips continued to move, but all Gracie heard was a ferocious roar as the blood drained from her head.
16
Andy’s mini-van sped by the Miller mansion early Wednesday morning, and sent leaves scattering. Matt almost choked on his coffee. What was Andy doing back from his vacation? Without stopping to grab a jacket, he headed out the door and down the path which lead to his brother’s house.
Matt rounded the corner as Andy lugged a black duffel bag from the van and slammed the door. He glanced up, lines of fatigue surrounding his eyes. “Hey, bro.”
“What’s going on? Everyone okay?”
“Trish and the kids are fine, but you’d better come in. In fact, you might wanna sit down for this one.” He slung the bag over his shoulder and moved to the garage.<
br />
Panic skittered through Matt’s insides as he followed him in the kitchen door.
Andy dropped his bag to the floor, rummaged in the fridge, and produced a Dr. Pepper. “Want one?”
Matt shook his head. “You’re hitting the hard stuff early, aren’t you?”
His brother popped the top and took a swig. “Between phone calls, the airport, and a pretty flight, I’ve been up all night. I need the caffeine to keep from draggin’ my wagon.”
Matt straddled a bar stool at the kitchen island. “The suspense is killing me. What gives?”
“The law firm was broken into this past weekend.”
“And now you tell me?”
“Just found out last night.”
Why did he get the distinct impression there was more—much more—to this story? “Did they catch the guy?”
“Girl. And yeah.”
“Anyone we know?”
Andy lips compressed in a grim line, his eyes sorrowful. “Gracie.”
Matt’s breath bottled in his chest and his mouth flew open. “She wouldn’t do that. There’s gotta be a mistake.”
“Exactly what I told Ernie, but he says they have proof.”
“What kind of proof?”
“Photos.” His brother took another swig. “And she confessed.”
Matt closed his eyes and brought a palm to his forehead. What had gotten into her?
Andy clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, Matt. As soon as I shower, I’m headed to the police station. Wanna come?”
“Sure.”
Forty-five minutes later they parked at the Miller’s Creek police station, an old rock building with bars on the windows. The elderly attorney who worked with Andy approached as they climbed from the car. Would Jason be here too?
“Mornin’, Ben.” Andy’s tone carried fatigue. “Sorry to pull you away from your family.
“Part of the job.”
Ernie met them as they entered, his hand outstretched. “Mornin’, everyone. Sorry to call you on your vacation, Andy, but I thought you’d wanna know. You guys want coffee?”
The Way of Grace (Miller's Creek Novels) Page 18
