Deadlier than the Male

by Sharon Sala

  Haley blinked back tears as she looked at Mack.

  “Do you remember what happened?” she asked.

  “Some of it.”

  “The house is gone. Mother burned it to the ground.”

  “It’s insured,” Mack said.

  “But all your work…” she said.

  “Brought you back to me,” Mack finished for her, and sat up, then swung his legs over the side of the bed as Haley walked into his arms.

  Mack sighed. He was still a little groggy, but that would wear off. Just knowing he had Haley was all the medicine he needed.

  Then there was a knock on the door. They all turned to look as Chief Bullard walked in.

  Haley could tell by the look on his face that it wasn’t good.

  “Did you find my mother?”

  Bullard nodded.

  “Where?”

  “At the cemetery.”

  Haley shuddered, then swallowed past the lump in her throat. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

  He nodded. “Shot herself on your brother’s grave.”

  “Oh, my God,” Haley said. “Oh, my God. All this hate. All the lives lost…and all because of a secret she didn’t want told.”

  “I’m so sorry, Haley,” the chief said. “I’ll…I’ll leave you alone now. If there’s anything else I need, I’ll be in touch later,” he said, as he walked out the door.

  Suddenly Mack’s arms were around her, holding her close. Mack’s sisters surrounded the two of them, hugging and crying along with her.

  “It’s gonna be all right, Haley. It’s gonna be all right,” Mack said. “We’re alive and healthy, and we have each other. Nothing else matters.”

  “And you both have us,” Carla added.

  Mack cupped Haley’s face and tilted her head until their gazes were locked.

  “Look at me,” he said softly.

  “I’m looking,” Haley whispered.

  “What do you see?”

  She sighed as an odd sort of peace began to spill through her.

  “I see my future. I see the man I’m going to grow old with. I’ve spent my life fighting for the right to love you.” Then she looked at Mack. “What do you see?”

  “I see the woman who holds my heart and my life in her hands. Tell me you’re still going to marry me.”

  “Yes.”

  “And live with me in the big house with the big bed.”

  Haley almost smiled. “Yes.”

  “Then it’s all been worth it,” he said, then turned to his sisters. “Somebody go find a doctor. We’re ready to go home.”

  Haley buried her face against Mack’s chest. She thought of her old apartment back in Dallas, and the trio of locks she’d needed to keep herself safe. She wouldn’t be needing that kind of protection anymore.

  She’d spent her entire life fighting for the right to love him, and she would do it all over again if she had to.

  Some things in life were meant to be, and Mack Brolin was meant to be hers.

  LETHAL LESSONS

  Colleen Thompson

  This one’s for my mother-in-law, Orpha Thompson.

  Your warmth and generosity have meant the world to me.

  But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame

  Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same,

  And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail,

  The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.

  —Rudyard Kipling,

  “The Female of the Species”

  Chapter 1

  I n the crowded parking lot of Red Bluff Elementary, Mara Stillwell climbed out of the First Big Change in her life, a used, blue Mini Cooper she had bought on impulse after the big breakup. Stomach fluttering, she stared at the Second Big Change: an Arizona sunset so spectacular it made her want to dip a brush into its vibrant colors. At the horizon’s western edge, the sun slid behind jagged rock formations that took her breath away each time she chanced to look up.

  “Oh, Mara,” she whispered to herself. “I’ve a feeling we’re not in Jersey anymore.”

  Removed from her former drab surroundings, Mara felt less drab herself, with part of the credit going to the pretty turquoise-and-white summer dress and sandals she’d bought for the “meet the teacher” evening that preceded her first day at her new school. She doubted Jerry the Jackass would even know her, with her newly auburn hair brushed straight and shining past her shoulders, and her thick-framed glasses traded for a set of contacts that didn’t hide her green eyes.

  Here in her new home, no one would recognize her—or whisper about the fiancé who’d been hauled off by the police only a few weeks before she’d planned to marry him this past June. The fiancé—make that ex-fiancé—who’d made it impossible for her to live and work in her hometown.

  Which was why Mara felt so stunned to look down from the stage where she sat with the other members of the faculty and see a familiar face among the waiting parents in the auditorium. A still-amazing face, all these years after she had last seen Adam Jakes, her older brother Trace’s best friend throughout high school.

  Unbelievably, her stomach did that same stupid flip-flop it had when she was twelve and the sixteen-year-old god of Sea Shores High School sailed into a room and claimed it, filling it with his running-back-tight body, his thick, dark hair and darker eyes. Eyes that seemed to read the fine print on her prepubescent soul.

  A wave of heat crashed over her, reminding her how hard she had fallen and how many nights she’d cried in her bed, suffering the pangs of what her mother had dismissed as “puppy love.”

  Adam was even better looking now, the promise of his youthful features fully realized, his chest and shoulders unmistakably defined beneath the polo shirt he wore with khaki slacks and what looked, even from this distance, like an expensive watch and shoes. Though his family had had little money, she should have known he would wind up not only handsome but successful—and happily married, she guessed, judging from the adorable child beside him, a little girl of about seven, with waist-length, sun-streaked hair held back by a headband that matched her pink sundress.

  “You’re blushing, Mara,” whispered Pippa Kelly, the school’s only other second-grade teacher. A few years older than Mara’s thirty, she’d been so friendly and helpful that Mara couldn’t resent her wholesome blond prettiness or how happy she, her husband and their six-year-old twins had seemed when they’d invited Mara to a backyard barbecue last week to welcome her to town. “Don’t worry. The parents here are going to love you.”

  Jillian Rhodes, the principal who had hired Mara, stepped up to the podium, her expectant smile soon quieting all conversation. Polished and professional in her crisp summer suit and slingbacks, Mrs. Rhodes peered over stylish reading glasses and welcomed the parents and students to an exciting new school term.

  “And this year I’m delighted to introduce a gifted educator we’ve been lucky enough to lure all the way from Sea Shores, New Jersey, where she was named her district’s teacher of the year. Please help me extend a warm, Red Bluff welcome to Miss Mara Stillwell, our newest addition to the second grade.”

  Mara felt her blush deepen as Mrs. Rhodes gestured for her to stand up to a polite round of applause. Applause and what looked like astonishment in the handsome gaze now latched on to hers.

  Please don’t let Trace have called or written and told him about what happened, she prayed. Please don’t let me start my new life in Red Bluff as an object of pity and suspicion.

  No way, Adam Jakes thought as he studied the blushing knockout rising from the line of chairs. There was no way that was his old friend Trace’s pesky little sister, she of the skinned knees, stick figure and hideous glasses. But despite the dazzling green eyes and a set of curves her modest dress couldn’t disguise, the mention of his hometown short-circuited his knee-jerk denial.

  This Mara Stillwell—the same Miss Stillwell who’d been listed as his daughter’s teacher
—could only be the girl who’d annoyed the devil out of him with her moony stares and obvious adoration. As gorgeous as she’d turned out, she would probably get a real laugh from that now—or maybe a shiver, once she heard the ugly rumors swirling around his wife’s death, as was sure to happen in no time flat.

  Dread coiled in his gut, and he wished uselessly that Mara didn’t have to hear the speculation. Wished he could somehow go back in time to those days when he’d been nothing but poor—and a little girl’s first crush.

  Soon Jillian Rhodes’ rah-rah introduction to the faculty ended and the teachers were free to leave the stage and mingle with the parents and students.

  Bending to look at his daughter, Rebecca, he dredged up a smile he wasn’t feeling. “Ready to say hello, sweetie?”

  She shrugged indifferently, her face too world-weary for one so young. Since her mother’s death a year ago, the child’s natural bubbliness had spiraled into a troubling near-silence that robbed him of sleep and filled his waking thoughts. Shouldn’t Rebecca be getting better instead of sliding deeper into darkness? If he were any sort of father, wouldn’t he have pulled his head out of his work, his own refuge from grief, and found some way to reach her by now?

  “Hey, I’ve got an idea.” Adam kept his voice deliberately upbeat. “Let’s get your teacher some punch from the refreshment table. She’ll probably be thirsty by the time she finishes talking with all the other kids and parents.”

  He offered the plan as a way to avoid the initial press, along with the potential stares that would be so hard for both him and his daughter. He especially wanted to steer clear of PTO president Barbara Fairmont, who, hot on the heels of her latest divorce, had called and left several messages asking him to join her on some committee.

  But Adam had heard the subtext, the implication that she would be willing to look past his recent “misfortune” for a chance to hook up with his fortune—or at the very least enjoy a few nights in his bed. Not a chance in hell, he thought, picturing his head hung as a trophy on her wall of vanquished exes. Or maybe it wasn’t the heads she was collecting….

  Wincing at the thought, he turned away to fill cups with punch and wait with his daughter until Mara Stillwell finished her last conversation.

  When she spotted him, her full lips curved into a smile that didn’t quite touch her eyes. “Adam Jakes,” she said. “I never imagined I’d find a fellow Seahorse out here.”

  Grinning at the memory of their high school’s “Mighty Seahorse” mascot, he dryly quoted the old war cry, “Seahorse Stampede!” and offered one of the two paper cups in his hands.

  Accepting with thanks, Mara laughed at his foolishness, then crouched to bring herself close to Rebecca’s level. As she offered her free hand in greeting, Mara said, “And who is this bright-looking young lady?”

  Ignoring her teacher’s hand, Rebecca stared down at her own sandals, and Adam felt a familiar pang in his chest. Please don’t think my kid’s rude. Or socially retarded.

  “Rebecca’s feeling a little shy right now,” he said in one of the great understatements of the decade.

  “That’s okay, Rebecca.” Mara let her hand drop. “I was shy, too, when I was your age. I’m sure your daddy will be only too happy to give you some really embarrassing examples.”

  Adam thought he saw a tiny smile, though Rebecca still refused eye contact. Grateful for Mara’s kindness, he said, “You’re pretty far inland for a Seahorse. What brings you here to Red Bluff?”

  Something that might have been pain flashed over her face, but it was quickly plastered over.

  “Well, I’d just turned thirty,” she said lightly, “and I suddenly felt as if my potential for adventure was about to reach its expiration date. So I started searching for teaching positions anywhere that sounded exotic. Once I saw the pictures of the hiking and ballooning and all that gorgeous red rock, I emailed my application before I could chicken out and change my mind.”

  Adam studied her for a moment, struck by the story’s charm and polish. Rehearsed, some instinct warned him, but he told himself it was probably only that she’d repeated it a lot lately. “How’d your family take that?”

  Mara smiled again. “Trace is probably still asking himself what got into me, but since he’s serving in Afghanistan, what’s he really going to say?”

  “Still an army man, then?”

  “A captain now. Dad would’ve been so proud if he had lived to see it.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Adam saw Barbara Fairmont gliding their way on vamp-red, spike-heeled sandals, her skin tanned and hair freshly lightened to her famous on-the-prowl blond. He spotted several of the dads checking her out and caught a few irritated glances from the women, although one eagerly buzzed “I’d love to help you decorate for next month’s tea” to the queen bee.

  Taking advantage of the distraction, Adam told Mara, “It’s been great catching up, but I’m afraid Rebecca and I need to hurry home now. Early morning tomorrow, what with the first day of school.”

  “I enjoyed meeting you, Rebecca. And it was a nice surprise seeing you again, Adam.” Mara shook his hand, sending an unexpected jolt of recognition arcing through his body.

  Focused on his daughter, Adam was able to escape without meeting Barbara Fairmont’s gaze directly. But not without recognizing the flash of poison behind her bright blue eyes.

  As the last parents and children straggled out, Mara headed toward the door in the company of several other teachers. She was eager to get home to the little guesthouse, which the locals called a casita, that she was renting. But she smiled as the PTO president, an attractive blonde in red heels, clicked toward her. Pippa had already warned Mara that Barbara Fairmont would watch her every move these first months, and that she and Principal Rhodes were close friends.

  Neither piece of news worried Mara. She knew everyone would be carefully scrutinizing her this first semester, but she knew, too, that she would soon win over both her students and their parents. Because Mara had realized early on that she had a gift for teaching, a talent for motivating kids to achieve their potential and for reaching children who would otherwise slip through the cracks.

  She would have no trouble whatsoever—as long as Adam Jakes didn’t take it upon himself to call his old friend Trace overseas.

  “I’m looking forward to meeting Cody in the morning,” Mara told Barbara now, a bit surprised the woman hadn’t brought her son this evening. “I hope he’s all set for a great new school year.”

  Ignoring the comment, Mrs. Fairmont asked her, “You know Adam Jakes?”

  There was an edge in the question, a challenge Mara didn’t understand. But she saw no reason to deny it. “Yes, can you believe it? He’s an old friend of my brother’s. I lost track of him years ago. I had no idea he’d moved out here.”

  But Mara was beginning to wonder if she had heard something about it a few years earlier, back home. If that might be the reason the name “Red Bluff” had jumped out at her when she’d been scouring the internet for job leads. Perhaps their surprise meeting was less than the pure coincidence she’d first thought.

  Jillian Rhodes came up to them then, her glasses perched atop her short, frosted brown hair.

  Barbara Fairmont’s gaze snapped to meet Jillian’s. “Our Miss Stillwell grew up with Adam Jakes. But she doesn’t know about…” Sleek eyebrows a shade darker than her blond locks lifted suggestively before she finished with “…his wife.”

  Mara tilted her head, looking from one woman to the other. She had assumed Adam was married, of course, but now it sounded as if there was more to the story.

  “Mrs. Jakes died in an accident last year,” the principal said carefully. Too carefully. “A terrible tragedy. She…fell. Hiking around the cliffs near their home.”

  “After midnight,” commented Barbara Fairmont so quietly Mara barely heard it.

  “How horrible,” said Mara. “That poor little girl, poor family. Are there any other children?”

 
Jillian Rhodes looked troubled as she answered, “Just Rebecca.”

  “No wonder she’s so quiet.” Mara had been fourteen when a car wreck claimed her mother, but she well remembered how lost she had felt. How very alone in her grief, though her father and brother were both devastated, too. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll do everything I can to help her.”

  Mrs. Rhodes nodded her approval. “Please go on ahead. I need to make sure we’re all locked up.”

  Outside, the stars blazed overhead, so many more than had ever been visible from Mara’s hometown. It smelled different here, too, the marshy-brine odor of dead sea grass replaced by the lightly floral clarity of the high desert. To Mara, the air felt charged with promise.

  Walking beside her, Mrs. Fairmont whispered, “You need to be careful. All that looking up, you’re sure to miss the scorpions.”

  “Oh.” Mara glanced down past her sandals, but the security lights along the walkway showed nothing to alarm her. “They’re nocturnal, then?”

  “Oh, yes, just like our tarantulas. But never hikers. No one walks the cliffs after midnight. Especially not the cheating wives of rich real-estate developers.”

  Mara stopped short. She hated gossip, especially the kind of sly insinuation that had all but run her out of town. I can’t imagine her not knowing what he was up to. What if she—oh, my, I hate to even think this, but…

  “So you’re saying you think something…” Mara couldn’t keep the edge from her voice. “You’re suggesting Mrs. Jakes committed suicide?”

  Barbara Fairmont shook her head. “Oh, no. No one seriously believes Christine Jakes took her own life.”

  Shock rippled through Mara’s body, wave after wave. Because the alternative was impossible to fathom, especially in this gorgeous little town, with its pastel adobe houses and its spectacular red rock vistas. “Then you’re suggesting someone pushed her? You mean— Has there been an investigation?”