by Jan Coffey
Mick bit back his raw emotions. He simply nodded and followed her through the house.
At that moment, she looked frail and young. Very young. What was most obviously missing was the attitude and the confidence that had always—and even more so lately—been part of her. When she reached for the bottle of milk in the fridge instead of a can of soda, he knew how bad things were.
“I’m going out there to wring that scrawny little bastard’s neck right now.”
She whirled on him. “Dad, sit!”
“Heather,” he exploded. “You’re not at fault. I am not mad at you. But I need you to tell me if Chris did anything…well, if he hurt you in any way. If he—”
“Dad, sit and I’ll explain.”
Mick forced back his temper and sat down in the chair she was pointing to. He watched her bring the jar of cookies and put it in the middle of the table. He thought he’d go crazy when she meticulously folded a couple of napkins and set them out for the two of them.
“Do you want a glass of milk, too?”
“No. I don’t. Thanks.”
Heather sat down across the table from him. “Where’s Léa?”
“Sleeping.”
“Is she feeling okay?”
“I’m not answering any more questions until you tell me what happened tonight.”
Heather dipped a cookie in the milk and popped it into her mouth. “We didn’t go to the movies tonight.”
It took great effort, but Mick managed not to comment on that.
“It wasn’t my idea. Chris had this stupid notion that I might want to see his parents’ cabin by the lake. So he took me there.”
“Against your will?”
“I didn’t kick or scream or put up a fuss, if that’s what you mean. And once we got there, when I told him I’d prefer not to go inside the cabin, that was fine with him.” Heather must have seen a murderous look in Mick’s eyes, for she reached over and put a hand over one of his white-knuckled fists. “Really, Dad. He didn’t force me to go in there. He didn’t force me to do anything.”
He felt sick. “What exactly are we talking about?”
She took another cookie out of the jar and kept dipping it in the milk. She was avoiding looking up at him. Half of the cookie broke off and sank to the bottom of the glass.
“Heck, you’re my father. I guess you might as well know, too.” Her voice had turned shy. “Despite all my big talk the other day, I’m…well…I’m still a virgin.”
“There’s no crime in that, Heather.”
“Yeah, well, boys don’t always believe that, for some reason. So anyway, I told Chris that we were not going all the way.”
“And he didn’t believe you, either.”
“He did, after a while. I’m cool with him now.”
Mick was relieved beyond words, and yet he sensed there was something else she was holding back.
“How come you drove his car home?”
She leaned against the back of the chair and let out a long, shaky breath. Her fear showed in her face. “When we were at the lake, I got out of Chris’s car. I was definitely mad enough to walk back home. But then, as I was walking along the lake, I ran into Dusty…Dusty Norris. No kidding, Dad, that guy scared the shit out of me.”
“Dusty was at the lake? Did he hurt you?”
“No. Chris was right behind me. He stood up to Dusty, and we ran away.” She shivered and rubbed her arms. “That guy is too creepy.”
Heather stood up and took the glass of milk to the sink, dumping it out. She reached inside the fridge for a can of soda.
“I was so ripped at Chris for taking me out there that I took his keys and told him he could walk home.” She turned to him. “So here I am. And he’s probably still walking.”
“Did Dusty threaten you?”
“He didn’t touch me or anything, if that’s what you mean. But I think that guy is always scary. He had a knife on him, too. And he said some stuff that made me pretty sure he was the one who clocked Léa the other night.” She shivered again and looked at the open windows. “I think he’s been watching Léa’s house and hanging around here.”
“I think you’re right.” Mick pushed himself to his feet. “They’ve issued a warrant for his arrest. We’re going to take care of that problem.”
“Did something happen to Léa?”
“She’s okay. Dusty came into her house as far as the mudroom earlier tonight. Trying to scare her.” Mick started closing the windows. “She’s tired and scared, but she’ll be okay.”
Heather put the can of soda in the sink. “I won’t wake her up, but I think I’ll check on her.”
Mick felt the emotions well up in him when he watched his daughter go. She was back, but even better, it seemed. Somewhere along the line, she’d become a young woman. Strong, independent, smart, beautiful…and now affectionate, even.
And he couldn’t wait to wring Chris Webster’s neck for messing around with her.
Mick picked up the phone in the kitchen and dialed the number Rich had left him.
Stonybrook’s chief of police had sounded serious about wanting to take care of this problem. Of course he’d be serious, Mick thought. Over the years, Dusty Norris had become an eyesore in Rich Weir’s perfect landscape. Now, the man was becoming more than a nuisance…he was becoming a menace.
~~~~
“Monday. The court date is for this Monday!” Ted repeated, satisfaction evident in his voice. “And I’m picking Emily and Hanna up tomorrow night for Aunt Janice’s birthday. I was thinking of keeping them until the hearing.”
“How is Marilyn dealing with the whole thing finally coming to an end?” Léa asked.
“She’s pissed. For a while her lawyer had her believing that she was sitting pretty, but now she knows better.”
“Why is she putting you both through this? I always thought the girls were cramping her style, anyway. Why doesn’t she just make some kind of time and schedule arrangement and be done with it?”
“Because she’s determined to punish me. Her one goal right now is to make me suffer, just because I love my daughters. She knows that they mean more than life to me.”
Chapter 25
After introducing Sarah Rand to Ted, Léa sat back and let the attorney do all the talking. For almost forty-five minutes the woman explained to Ted the problems she’d discovered in reading the transcripts of the first trial. Sarah talked about the possibility of key evidence that might never have been passed from the prosecutor to the defense team. She emphasized the importance of time in the appeal process, and how he should not let any more of it expire.
With the exception of a brief glance at the bandages on Léa’s head when he’d first been brought into the visiting room, Ted maintained his silence, though Léa had a sense that he was, at least, listening.
As the hands of the clock clicked forward, Léa began to feel the edges of fear seeping in. Ted was still not responding in any way. As she looked at him sitting on the other side of the table, she began to think that all her hopes would be trampled in this meeting. Based on her brother’s response, how could Sarah ever consider taking the case?
But Léa would not give up on Ted. She had never considered conceding to be an option. Never, during these past two years, had she considered accepting Ted’s fate. She knew he was not the murderer of his own family. She would not let him rot in jail or die of a lethal injection for a crime he did not commit.
Sarah gave her a look that said ‘take heart.’
“I’ve been doing a lot of talking, Ted. Is there anything you want to tell me?”
Stony silence was again the convicted man’s answer, and Léa’s chin sank onto her chest as she closed her eyes. But then again, what power did she have? How could she make a difference when he refused to help her?
“The death of children, under any circumstances, is a horrible thing. It is so sad, so tragic, because it completely defies the natural order of life. Children do not die before their parents.”
Sarah’s softly spoken words brought Léa’s head up. “It is well documented that when children are murdered, the parents who are left behind are often completely devastated. It is so horrible, so illogical, so unnatural that the parent sometimes can’t even begin to understand what has happened, never mind why. I believe them when they say that the grief of a parent for a child is far more intense than any other kind of grief. Sorrow, depression, anger…these are feelings that are difficult to resolve.”
“Save your pretty textbook words, counselor.” Ted looked directly at Sarah. “You haven’t got any idea what I’m going through.”
“You’re wrong about that, Ted.” Sarah answered quietly. “I don’t suffer as you do, but after talking to Léa and meeting you, I’d have to be blind not to see what you are going through. It’s not only sorrow and anger and depression. There is also the question of blame.”
Ted rested his forehead on his fists. Léa could see his eyes were squeezed shut.
“You do blame yourself, don’t you, Ted?” the attorney persisted. “You have convinced yourself that you should have—that you could have—prevented the murder. That it was your fault that your girls were not protected.”
Ted pounded his fists on the table. “Damn it, it was my fault.”
Léa felt the tears well up. This was the first outburst of anger he’d expressed since this all started the night of the murders.
“How, Ted? How did you have the power to stop the killer?”
“I had the power to stop Marilyn from taking my girls back to the house. I hugged them. I held them in my arms in that restaurant. But then I let her manipulate me. I let her make a scene and grab my children and go. I should have stopped her right then and there, no matter how ugly a public scene that was.”
“But you tried to stop her. You went after her.”
“Emily wanted me. She cried when Marilyn yanked her away from me in the restaurant.”
“You arrived at the house after them. Why didn’t you get them then? Why didn’t you get the girls out of the house?”
“I couldn’t.” Ted started crying. “It was on fire. They were in there, and the doors were locked. The place was burning. I couldn’t get to them. God, they were right there, and I couldn’t reach them.”
Léa could not swallow the sob rising in her throat. After calling on his cell phone for help, he’d repeatedly tried to charge back into the house. But he’d been too late. Ted’s clothes had been singed. He’d had burns and cuts on both his hands. He was in shock by the time the police had taken him into custody.
Sarah’s blue eyes were misty when they connected with Léa’s. It was a silent message, but in that moment Léa knew that the attorney had decided to take the case.
“Someone did stab your estranged wife, Ted. Someone did set that house on fire. And in the process, that person killed your children.” Sarah paused. “While you refuse to fight for your innocence, while you insist on doing nothing, while you fail to exercise your right to appeal, the killer of your children is hiding in the shadows.”
He closed his eyes again and tried to shut them out, but Sarah continued. “Ted, this monster is free, striking again at those you love. Léa, your sister—the only person you have left in this world—is the next target.”
Ted’s gaze shifted to Léa’s bandages.
“Eighteen stitches in one attack. A concussion. Threatened last night with a knife.” The lawyer’s tone was full of challenge. “Survivor guilt is a horrible thing to deal with, never mind overcome. You have every right to stew in it forever. But wouldn’t you turn back the clock if you could do it to save your children? Don’t you know you can do it now for Léa, before it’s too late?”
It took him a long time to move his gaze from Léa to Sarah and then back to his sister. “Is that true, what she’s saying? Something happened to you because of me?”
“Not because of you, Ted,” Léa answered him. “Someone is trying to hurt me because of the murder. To Stonybrook, you’ve already given up, but I haven’t. Now someone wants me to shut up and go away, too. But I won’t.”
“You owe it to your kids, Ted. You owe them justice.”
The answer was some time in coming. Léa held her breath when he raised his head again to speak.
“What do you want me to do?”
~~~~
“I said I don’t want to talk about it right now.” Chris tried to close the bathroom door on his mother, but Patricia Webster caught it and shoved it open.
“You are not putting me off any longer, young man.” She folded her arms across her chest and stood stubbornly in the doorway. “You don’t get home until one thirty in the morning. You’re walking. Your car is somewhere. You’ve slept most of the morning, missing work. You won’t answer any of my questions.”
“I answered your questions last night.” He glowered at her in the mirror while trying to shave. He’d showered and pulled on a pair of pants, but as soon as he’d opened the door to let the steam out, his mother was there, ready to attack. “You just didn’t like the answers.”
“Who would?” she snapped. “What mother would be happy hearing that her son has been tricked by some scheming bimbo into lending her his car?”
“Don’t say that about Heather.” He pointed the razor at her before wiping his hand on the towel. He went back to shaving. “I told you she’ll return it this morning. It was an emergency.”
“What emergency?” she sneered. “Emergency to go out with her gangster friends and smoke dope and get drunk? Emergency to spend the night out with her devil cult doing Lord knows what?”
Chris turned on his mother. “I am sick and tired of you freaking every time I like a girl. It’s jealousy, Mom, pure and simple. And it’s disgusting. Heather hasn’t done a single thing to you. So stop talking about her like she is some monster.”
“But she is a monster! She’s the devil.” Mrs. Webster’s voice rose. “I saw her in the hallway last night. I saw the way she was eyeing you. Touching you. She couldn’t keep her wicked little hands off you long enough to get out of here.”
“I was touching her, Mom.” He dropped the razor in the sink. “Do you really want to know why she took off with my car last night? I tried to fuck her. Against her will, I tried to fuck her.”
Patricia’s face became ashen, and she took a step back.
“Are you happy now? Do you have all the answers you were looking for?”
“She lured you out. She enticed you to—”
“Wake up, will you?”
“That’s enough!” Chris was shocked to hear his father’s stern command.
A moment later, as his wife disappeared down the hall, Allan Webster came to the bathroom door.
“Your car was just returned.”
Chris didn’t dare speak a word. The anger he saw in his father’s face was unlike any he’d ever seen there before.
“Mick Conklin returned it. I just finished speaking to him in my office.” The minister spoke slowly, methodically.
Chris noted with shock that his father’s hands were doubled into fists.
“Make yourself decent…on the outside, at least…and come down to my office. You and I have a great many things to discuss.”
~~~~
“On top of all that, no independent psychiatric examinations were ever done. Ted has so much working for him in the appeal process. And this time, before he goes to court again, we’ll make sure that he receives the treatment he needs.” Sarah patted Léa’s hand. “We want him strong and competent and completely prepared to aid in his own defense.”
“I am still a little dumbfounded at how you were able to break through that shell he’d built around himself.”
“Not me, Léa. He came out of it because of you.”
She knew better than to believe that. Sarah Rand had done her homework. The lawyer had known she needed to focus totally on Ted’s grief for his daughters.
Sarah pulled into a parking spot in front of her office.
“Are you sure I can’t drop you at your doctor’s office?”
Léa shook her head and smiled. “You’ve done so much already. When Mick and Heather dropped me off this morning, he was planning on coming back and picking me up. He is insistent about playing the part of my bodyguard until Dusty Norris is arrested. Not that I am complaining!”
“I know exactly what you mean.” Sarah laughed as the two of them got out of the car. “Some time when we can get together just to socialize, I’ll tell you about the week in my life when I was supposedly dead, and trying to hide with Owen.”
“Mick mentioned it to me. Sounds like a horrendous experience.”
“It was pretty bad, but I can see now that it turned out to be the start of something incredible.” She came around the car. “Talk about incredible. This guy was not supposed to come for me until one o’clock. A whole hour early.”
Léa had no difficulty recognizing Owen Dean waiting. No one else passing on the street had any difficulty recognizing him, either.
Sarah had barely stepped onto the sidewalk before her husband drew her into his arms and kissed her.
“Sorry, we haven’t seen each other since this morning,” he said to Léa as Sarah tried to regain her professional composure. The movie star-turned-producer smiled and extended a hand in Léa’s direction. “You must be Ms. Hardy.”
“Léa.” She shook his hand. It was fascinating to see the transformation in Sarah now that she was with her husband. The tough attorney had been replaced by a woman very much in love. They made a stunning couple.
“I was talking to Mick on the phone this morning,” he said. “We thought maybe the four of us could get together for a drink or something over the weekend. Of course, my wife can only drink milk.”
Sarah jabbed him in the arm.
“Okay, a milkshake.”
She shook her head and smiled. “We only found out yesterday that we’re expecting. For the most private guy in the world, he’s become the biggest blabbermouth.”
“You know there are no secrets. The tabloids probably knew before we did. Besides, I had to tell Mick when I talked to him about another addition.”
