by Debra Webb
“I lied to you before,” Tony admitted.
Clare had suspected as much. “You weren’t injured in an accident when Janet was chopping wood?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think you want to know the truth. It would be painful for you.”
Clare blinked back the tears that burned her eyes. “Yes, I do.” Her response was scarcely a whisper. Fear tingled up her spine. Dear God, please don’t let it be too horrible.
“Janet sold me to the Weedens. They were old and didn’t have any children of their own. They needed someone to do the work around their place and she needed money. Like always. Besides, she had her eye on an old man who had the money to give her the life she wanted. She didn’t want me in the way.”
Clare told herself to breathe but she couldn’t draw the air into her lungs. She had learned the Weedens, both dead now, had been bad people. No friends. No connections in the community where they lived. Just plain old mean. Janet had relished in telling her that all those years ago…but Clare hadn’t gotten the chance to do anything about it.
“When I was eighteen I tried to run away. They beat me. They always beat me and I never fought back. Not until that last time. I guess they knew they wouldn’t be able to count on me after that. So they decided that if I wasn’t going to be their workhorse I wouldn’t be anyone else’s, either.”
“They did this to you?” Disbelief tinged her words.
“That day at lunch the old woman put something in my food. A sedative of some sort. It knocked me out.” He stretched his back. “When I woke up they had me tied down and the old bastard had chopped off my arm with an ax.”
The horror she had feared bloomed into a pain that cracked open her chest and ripped at her heart. “How did you survive?”
“I guess the old woman grew a conscience or worried they’d go to jail if I died. She tied a tourniquet around what was left of my arm and told me I’d better run. I got as far as town before I ended up in the hospital. Once I was recovered enough, I left the hospital and made a new life.” He shrugged his uninjured shoulder. “End of story.”
The weight of the decisions she had made back in college settled more heavily onto her shoulders. “I’m so sorry. This should never have happened to you.”
He looked away. “You were raped. That shouldn’t have happened to you. You did what you thought was right at the time. Janet took advantage of you. She took advantage of all of us.”
Clare had done what she thought was right but she had been young and emotionally damaged. Otherwise she might not have made two mistakes so close together. “You did well for yourself in spite of my failure on your behalf.” The terrible tragedy he had suffered was as much Janet’s fault as hers. That brought Clare to yet another question she needed to ask. “How did you discover the truth about who you were? Did Janet seek you out?”
He shook his head. “It was easy enough.”
When Janet had come back into Clare’s life twenty-three years ago, Clare had asked her about her son and Janet had insisted he’d been adopted by a fine family who adored him. Lies, all of it. She had ruined Tony and then she’d shown up again to ruin Clare’s husband and daughters. Janet’d had no one, evidently whatever man she’d gotten her claws into had either died or dumped her. Never one to go for long without someone to take advantage of, she had taken everything from Clare. Just before the arrests Janet disappeared but not before telling Clare that one day she would know how much her son had suffered with that fine family. Clare had had two decades to think about that…to think about all of it and to worry if her daughters were dead or alive.
Her hands shook with the fury that roared through her. Clare was glad her sister was dead. She hoped Janet Tolliver was burning in hell right this minute.
Clare cleaned up the mess she had made and turned to her son. “I’m going out to get us some food.”
He tensed visibly. “That’s not a good idea.”
“It’s safer for me than for you,” she insisted. With his missing arm, he would be noticed by anyone he passed. She still had a chance of blending in, of being overlooked.
“I don’t like it.” He stood. “We’ll go together.”
Clare had to stand her ground here. Things had gotten out of control and she needed to try and regain some kind of order. Her quest was far too important to make any more mistakes, especially any involving the law.
She could not fail.
“Stay here, Tony,” she said more firmly. “I will bring back supplies. Stay in the room.”
He stood there for a moment that felt like an hour. “You won’t leave me this time?”
Lord have mercy. She put her arms around him and held him tight. The tears streamed from her eyes and she had no hope of stopping them. “I am so sorry I left you before. I swear I will never leave you again.”
His arm settled around her in a loose hug. “All right, then. I’ll be waiting.”
Clare drew back and swiped her eyes. “Never doubt me again, son.” She gave him her best smile. “I won’t let you down.”
Chapter Six
6:00 p.m.
In the Livingston café, Russ listened closely as Olivia made an appointment for eight this evening with a Houston News reporter. This television reporter, Keisha Landers, had earned first choice at an exclusive by virtue of being the daughter of the only reporter who had dogged every step the cops made during the Princess Killer investigation more than twenty years ago. Keisha’s father, now deceased, had left all his notes with his daughter. Keisha had promised to share those with Olivia if she got an exclusive.
As relieved as Russ felt that Olivia had agreed to cooperate with his protection efforts, breaking the news about the Barker children being alive and well would likely turn this case into a circus. He’d warned her about that, but she insisted her way was the only way to prompt reactions in a timely manner.
He hoped she understood that the reactions she elicited might not be what she’d bargained for. Since there was no changing the lady’s mind he had no alternative but to go with the flow. Making sure she stayed safe was his job.
They would both know soon enough. He had sent Simon a text warning him that the storm was about to hit. By noon tomorrow the petition for a stay of execution would be national news. The first interview of one of the Barker daughters, long thought to be dead and buried, would be hot on the same track.
“I’m meeting Keisha Landers and her cameraman at eight,” Olivia informed him when she closed her phone. “I won’t mention your agency. If she has questions about your presence, you’re my personal security.”
“This is your show.” Whatever she thought, this was never going to go as smoothly as she hoped. The Colby Agency had already approached Landers about her father’s notes. Anyone involved or closely associated with the original investigation had been contacted. Landers had suggested she intended to write a book about her father’s documented journey following the case and she was not interested in sharing information. Russ couldn’t imagine that her game plan had changed that much. The opportunity to capitalize was too appealing.
Olivia stood and picked up her bag. “I’d like to contact Sadie and Laney to see if they’re interested in being a part of this. I assume you can assist me with that.”
Russ slid from the booth and grabbed his hat before tossing a couple of bills on the table. “I’m waiting for word back from my superior. He notified the investigators providing protection to your sisters. I’ll have a decision for you soon.”
Olivia stared at him for a moment, those deep brown eyes searching his. “You don’t trust me at all, do you?”
He was surprised to see regret in her eyes. They’d come a long way over burgers and colas. Her eyes gave him a peek beyond the tough-lady exterior she wore so proudly. “I want to trust you,” he confessed. “I know your intentions are good. That said, I will admit that your take-the-bull-by-the-horns attitude is risky from my perspective.”
“It’s the only way.”
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Apparently done with talking, she did a one-eighty and headed for the exit. Russ followed. He’d given Simon a heads-up; there was little else he could do to waylay this collision course. Trying to keep the fallout minimal was the best he could hope for.
The bell over the café door jingled as he opened it for her to exit. The parking lot had been jam-packed when they arrived, forcing them to park on opposite sides. The trip to Houston would take no more than ninety minutes. Sufficient time for Simon to brace Sadie and Laney for the news that their older sister was going public.
“We could always leave your sedan at the motel,” Russ suggested. “I’m happy to assume the role of chauffeur, as well.” He sweetened the offer with a smile. Not that he was afraid of her giving him the slip, but it would allow him to stay abreast of any phone conversations. He hadn’t had the opportunity to leave a listening device inside her sedan. Not to mention that sharing close confines with her wouldn’t be a hardship. It would give him a chance to get a better handle on the lady. He’d been watching her for days on end. There was a lot he already liked about her.
She shrugged. “Works for me. That’ll give me a chance to go over my own notes before the meeting.”
Surprised that arm-twisting or further negotiations hadn’t been necessary, he settled his Stetson in place and gave her a nod. “I’ll follow you to the motel.”
“Once we’re on the road to Houston you can explain these unconfirmed details about Tony Weeden” She fished the keys from her bag. “I don’t want to be hit with any surprises from Landers. Especially if it’s information you already know.”
Sensitive territory for sure. The way she looked at him warned she suspected he knew a lot more than he was sharing. “As long as you bear in mind that what we have so far is to a large degree speculation and that it’s all off the record.”
“I know. I know. I won’t say a word to Landers.” She turned in the direction of her sedan. “You can trust me on that.”
An explosion thundered in the air, and the ground shook with the blast that sent Olivia hurtling backward into Russ. His arms went around her as they were thrown to the ground. He rolled on top of her and shielded her body as debris showered onto the ground.
“You okay?” he demanded. Her face was pale. Her lips were moving, but he couldn’t hear a damned thing she said. Instead of trying to make out her words he checked her body. No blood. No obvious injury.
He scrambled to his feet and checked the parking lot. Remnants of her tan sedan were scattered. The vehicles that had been parked on either side of it were damaged; one lay on its side. Thank God the lot had been empty of people save for the two of them.
The sound of screams and shouting echoed around him as patrons flooded out of the diner. He reached down and pulled Olivia to her feet. She stared at the mangled parts that used to be her sedan and then at him. For the first time since they’d officially met she was speechless.
“You two okay?” asked a tall, thin man wearing a white shirt sporting a name tag that identified him as Larry. He surveyed the parking lot and shook his head. “Oh, my God.”
His ears were still ringing but at least Russ could distinguish the words being spoken now. He looked to Olivia and she gave a vague nod. Russ shifted his attention back to the man who had asked. “We’re okay. Just a little shook up.”
“I’m the manager,” Larry explained. “I’ve got nine-one-one on the line and they’re asking if we need medical assistance.”
Russ turned back to Olivia. “You sure you’re okay?”
She dusted off her skirt, her hands shaking. “The only thing I need is a new car.” She stared at what used to be her car, her expression a little shocky.
“We’re good,” Russ assured the manager.
From in front of the café door, a kid broke loose from his mother’s tight grip and made a dash for Russ’s Stetson. While the mother chased after her son, the manager inquired, “That your car?”
“Mine,” Olivia answered. Using both hands, she reached up and tucked the hair behind her ears. She was steadier now but her face remained pale. She grabbed her purse and clutched it close as if she feared it, too, might be taken from her.
Russ surveyed the crowd around the diner entrance. “Might be a good idea to keep these folks inside,” Russ suggested, “until the police determine there’s no other danger.” The property was bordered by businesses on either side but there didn’t appear to be any damage beyond Olivia’s car and the others parked nearest it. Like the diner’s patrons, people had poured out of the other stores.
Larry’s eyes widened as he realized the implications of Russ’s words. “Come on, folks. Let’s get back inside.” After the promise of free dinner coupons for their next visit, the patrons filed back inside.
“Here’s your hat, mister.” The kid who’d escaped his mother beamed up at Russ as he held out the Stetson.
“Thanks.” Russ claimed his hat and gave the kid a nod of approval before his frazzled mother dragged him back inside.
Olivia started toward where her car had been parked. He snagged her by the arm. “Whoa, there. You should wait inside until the police check things out.”
The pale face was gone now, replaced by the flush of anger. “Someone blew up my car!”
Sirens wailed in the distance, the sound a welcome respite. He didn’t want her attempting to rummage through the remains of her car. “That’s a fact, but until the police do their thing, there’s nothing we can do to figure out who or why. It’d be best if you wait inside.”
Her brow furrowed into a frown. “I’m not going anywhere. If you can wait out here, so can I.”
Since one of them had to speak to the police, he opted not to argue with her. “Just let me do the talking.” Otherwise they would be here all night.
She glared at him but didn’t disagree. Mostly, he decided, because her cell phone rang and distracted her. Four police cruisers barreled into the parking lot and Russ waited to see who was in charge. A detective would likely be en route. Bomb squad, as well.
“Are you serious? When did this happen?”
As she spoke into the phone, Olivia’s face went pale again. Apparently there was more bad news. He had a feeling that she was going to need to reschedule her appointment in Houston.
When she ended the call, she looked from the uniforms approaching to Russ. “My motel room burned. Like twenty minutes ago.” She shook her head. “My luggage was in the room.” She stared at the spot where her sedan had been parked. “My briefcase was in my car.”
Someone was not happy with Olivia Westfield.
9:20 p.m.
THIS WAS UNBELIEVABLE!
Olivia watched as the last piece of her car was loaded onto the truck that would haul it to the county crime lab for further analysis. The bomb squad had determined there was no further danger and the diner’s patrons had been allowed to leave. No one had seen or heard anything other than the explosion. The remains of a homemade explosives device had been found. Not a totally rudimentary device, but not state-of-the-art, either. The detonator had been remotely controlled, which meant that whoever had set off the explosion had been watching and waiting for just the right moment.
She stood inside the diner and watched the final cleanup efforts. She had given the owners of the other two vehicles her insurance information. Whether or not her automobile policy covered this kind of thing, she had no idea.
“Would you like some more coffee, Ms. Westfield, before I shut down the coffeemaker?”
She glanced at the manager who had toiled away behind the counter for the past two hours. He’d served coffee and pie to the restless diners and to the policemen. Olivia imagined he was anxious to close up for the night. Thanks to her it had been a long one.
“No, thank you.” She forced a smile on her lips. “I appreciate your patience and hospitality.”
“No trouble, ma’am,” he assured her. “I’m just grateful no one was hurt.”
“Me, too.”
Whoever had done this had tried to get to her. If anyone had gotten hurt…
Was she doing the right thing going after this case, her past, with such a vengeance?
Olivia turned back to the scene transpiring beneath the parking lot lights before her lips started that telltale tremble and gave her away. She was so glad no one had been hurt. This was her fault. That part she understood completely, though no one had said as much. But she had seen the way the detective in charge had looked at her when she’d told him the only reason anyone would want to do such a thing was because of her looking into the Princess Killer case.
No one wanted her digging up that ugly past. Not even the cops, and they should want justice every bit as much as she did. She hugged herself and silently repeated the mantra that had gotten her this far. It was the right thing to do.
But was it?
St. James had gotten three calls from the Colby Agency following up on this development. He didn’t say as much but she understood that no one was happy with her decisions. Olivia closed a hand over her mouth and stifled the urge to sob. Dammit, she was right to do this.
This had to be done. And there was no one else. Whoever had murdered those poor girls, whether Rafe or Clare or both, the world needed to know for sure once and for all. She needed to know. His eyes and that face…she closed her eyes and tried to put his image out of her mind. He just kept haunting her. Not one specific detail was familiar to her and yet there was a vague recognition of some sort. A knowing. Maybe it was more the sound of his voice. The voices from her dreams kept trying to surface.
Was she remembering ugly events from that terrifying time? She wanted to try to remember more…but the idea flat-out terrified her. She hadn’t told a soul how much she feared those repressed memories.
She knew what they were. A visit to a shrink when she turned twenty-five and a particularly chilling dream had given her an answer. Whatever happened when she was a kid—and it was no movie—had been a true nightmare.
