Love Inspired Suspense January 2014

by Shirlee McCoy

  Gil just went to the top of David’s suspect list. It didn’t sound as if she was the type of woman to marry for love. Was she two-timing her fiancé, and he found out about it? Or had he just discovered that she only wanted him for his money? The problem was David couldn’t envision Gil with the gumption to do anything about the betrayal except sob into his snifter. At the symposium it had become clear that he was a silver-spoon sort of guy who’d spent no effort in accumulating the wealth he’d inherited. David’s wealth came through inheritance, too, but he hadn’t grown up in the lap of anything approaching luxury.

  As he climbed into the vehicle, his phone began to play Pachelbel’s Canon in D. It was Chris. Finally.

  “Hey, buddy,” David answered. “Who got their wish?”

  Chris’s chuckle warmed his ear. “I did…and she did.”

  “How does that work?”

  “Little Samuel is perfect from the top of his fuzzy head to the tips of his pudgy toes. I hope someday you’ll get the chance to know exactly what I’m saying, but the second you hold that new life in your arms, gender ceases to matter. You simply can’t imagine the little person being anyone else except who they turned out to be.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Sammy got a little stubborn right in the middle of things and took his sweet time getting born. We were up all night. I’m on my way back to the hospital after catching forty winks. I’ve only got a few minutes to yak, so update me fast on the status of your investigation.”

  David shared what little he’d learned.

  Chris clucked his tongue. “I like the lead on the fiancé. Definitely talk to him. The lead on the university has some promise. One of the most common times for a young adult to get a tattoo is in college.”

  David frowned. “Alicia told me she went to the University of Texas at San Antonio, but only for a couple of years before she dropped out. Their mascot is a longhorn steer, not some kind of cat.”

  Chris made a humming sound. “It’s still possible that Alicia and Melissa knew each other when they were in college. San Antonio has a couple of colleges—they could have gone to different schools but still become friends. You said yourself that Alicia dropped out. Melissa may have transferred to a school with a cat mascot or even have held a graduate degree from a different institution.”

  “I see what you mean. I’ll pursue that angle. We keep coming back to the need to know more about her, and I won’t have access until Friday to the person who might know.”

  “You could fly to San Antonio and spend Thanksgiving with our little fam. It’s likely to be takeout turkey dinner, but hey, you probably weren’t going to have anything different anyway. At least you’d have company eating it.”

  Chris sounded genuine about the invitation, but David would feel like the biggest heel on the planet for inserting himself into this family newly bonding with one another.

  “Nah, I’ll hang around here to catch any developments. The news of the murder could break to the public at any second. Actually, I forgot to listen to the noon report, so I should check the news services right now.”

  “Do that, pal. Good luck. I’m just walking into the hospital. I’ve got to go make like a daddy. It can be a dirty job, especially when Maddie insists it’s my turn to change the diaper, but somebody has to do it.” He laughed, and David laughed with him despite a sour twist in his gut.

  “Good luck back at you, buddy,” he said and ended the call.

  David sat scowling at his phone. What kind of a rotten dude was suddenly jealous of a guy changing dirty diapers? That useless wishing-for-a-family thing again.

  The outdoor chill began to dominate the interior of his Lexus, and he started the vehicle. He tapped his phone to access his news apps, but Pachelbel began to play again. Laurel! He answered quickly.

  “David here.”

  “Mr. Greene?” Caroline’s breathless voice responded.

  David’s stomach clenched. “Are you and your mom all right?”

  “We’re fine, except Mom’s about to pop over all the news reporters calling the house phone or ringing the doorbell.”

  “The news broke, then.”

  “Ya think? Mom’s been saying no comment, but the reporters aren’t happy about it, and they’re persistent. Finally, we sneaked out the rear door and went back to Janice’s, so I guess the cleanup work is done for the day.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Not with the reporters—I only brought them up because I knew you’d totally get it. You’ve been there, too. No, I called because I was just in Janice’s fridge after a soda and saw this ginormous turkey thawing in there. That bird’s way too big for the three of us to eat so…” The girl’s voice trailed away.

  David’s heart warmed, but he’d better err on the side of caution. “If you’re issuing an invitation, you should clear that idea with the adults first.”

  “I know, but before I hit them up I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Do you know how to cook a turkey? I mean Mom and Janice will do their best and mean well, but I have yet to eat one of their Thanksgiving turkeys that didn’t taste like gluey paper.”

  “The secret is in the seasoning, how long you cook the bird and at what temperature.”

  “You do know how to cook a turkey.”

  David fell silent as images from childhood Thanksgivings filled his senses with memories of sights, sounds, tastes and smells. “It’s been years, but I used to help my mom prepare the feast. Her cornbread and apple stuffing could have won awards.”

  “Yum! You have got to come tomorrow and rescue my taste buds from torture. I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Whoa, squirt. They have to agree—”

  “Not from you. From them! Keep your phone on you. I’ll call you back.”

  The connection went silent. David lowered his cell, chuckling. Should he hope the invitation came through? The prospect of a real Thanksgiving dinner in an atmosphere approximating family appealed to him like a siren’s song. And besides, Caroline was right—he did know what they were going through with the reporters, and he wanted to be there for them in the struggle. He wasn’t objective about Laurel and Caroline any longer, and that was dangerous. Was continued association with them setting his heart up for shipwreck?

  TEN

  Today was Thanksgiving Day, and Laurel was going to be thankful if it killed her. Sometimes a thankful heart was a decision, not an emotion. She sank onto a stool and stared at the raw turkey perched on the center island of Janice’s kitchen. At least she didn’t have to worry about dressing the bird this holiday. Caroline had engineered a solution to that issue.

  Laurel would laugh about her daughter’s transparent manipulation to get David invited to their Thanksgiving dinner if she wasn’t so conflicted about his presence in their lives. She liked him, and that was dangerous. With this mutual suspicion like a wall of bars between them, there was no future in getting to know one another.

  Yet she hadn’t been able to resist Caroline’s plea. Even Janice had taken her daughter’s side, arguing that it was hardly Christ-like to leave the man to spend Thanksgiving Day all alone. Laurel had folded in the face of her daughter’s desire for a delicious Thanksgiving feast—for once—combined with the Good Samaritan appeal.

  The doorbell sounded, and Laurel rose from the stool. David was here. She smoothed the front of the azure-blue skirt and frilly white blouse she’d donned for the special day and patted her hair. Was her lipstick okay? Too late to check now.

  She headed for the front door, but Caroline darted from the living room, and reached it ahead of her. The girl delivered a boisterous welcome to their guest, bubbling with teenage giggles. Laurel smiled, spirits buoyed by her daughter’s happiness.

  “Hi,” David said. He cradled a small sack of groceries in one arm even as he extended a tub of deli fruit salad toward Laurel. “Thanks for inviting me.”

  As she accept
ed the tub, her gaze met and locked with his twinkling gray eyes, and a warm shiver flowed down her spine. This was going to be a wonderful day, and for a small window of time, she would throw caution to the winds and allow herself to enjoy the moment. What could it hurt?

  Janice hustled out of her home office and added her greeting to the mix. Then they adjourned to her spacious kitchen and got about their appointed tasks amidst a flow of casual banter. No heavy topics allowed today, Janice decreed, and no one objected.

  While David stuffed and basted the turkey with ingredients he’d brought along, Laurel peeled potatoes and placed them in a pot of water on the stove to be turned on later when the turkey was closer to being done. Janice whipped up a simple green bean casserole to be popped into the oven at the proper time, and Caroline put together a raw veggie tray. Dessert was already sitting on the kitchen counter, a pumpkin pie and a pecan pie, courtesy of the local bakery.

  By noon, the aromas wafting through the house drew an audible growl from Laurel’s stomach as she set the dining room table. Another stomach echoed the growl, and she turned to run smack into David. They jumped apart, gazes falling to their own middles, and laughed.

  “Good thing the turkey is ready to come out,” he said, “or I might start making serious inroads on the veggies. I think I might anyway.” He grabbed a carrot stick from the tray that already graced the table, then headed for the kitchen.

  “I’m with you.” Laurel snatched a celery stick and followed him.

  In short order, they sat around the table, the steaming feast before them. As casually as if this were an everyday event, David extended his hands to either side of him, and Laurel placed her palm in his. His fingers were firm around hers—strong and comforting, if she’d allow herself to think that way. Caroline joined her hand with David’s. Frowning slightly, Janice took Laurel’s and Caroline’s hands. David’s words of thanks were simple, but eloquent and heartfelt. Laurel had no problem adding her amen.

  Then they dug in. David’s turkey and dressing were gourmet quality. The turkey practically melted on the tongue, and the dressing demanded to be savored with every bite. In contrast, her mashed potatoes were a little on the watery side, and her gravy sported a few lumps, but not a soul uttered a word of complaint or criticism. Janice’s green bean casserole erred on the salty side but it was edible, and the serving dishes were quickly depleted by hungry souls.

  Laurel’s heart sang. When had she last felt so relaxed? And right in the middle of the worst trouble she’d been in since Steven rolled through her life like a human wrecking ball.

  “Anyone ready for pie?” Janice asked, rising from the table.

  A chorus of groans answered her.

  She laughed. “We can do pie later, then. Let’s adjourn to the family room. I’ll get a blaze going in the fireplace.”

  “Allow me.” David raised a hand.

  “Have at it. I’ll brew some tea.”

  “All ri-i-ight!” Caroline smacked her hands together.

  Soon snaps and crackles and pleasing warmth issued from the fireplace. Janice emerged from the kitchen bearing a tray of steaming mugs. Swathed in the comfort of an easy chair, Laurel accepted her mug and inhaled the brisk, fruity steam.

  Engrossed in a fashion magazine, Caroline accepted her mug with scarcely a glance and a murmur of thanks. From a casual stance next to the mantelpiece, David lifted his mug in salute to the server and turned toward the colorful framed butterflies and moths on the mantel.

  “Did you collect these or purchase them?” he asked Janice.

  “My late husband collected and mounted them.”

  “They’re beautiful. I’m sorry to hear he passed away. How long ago?”

  “Eight years last month. Aneurism. No warning.”

  “That’s tough.”

  “Yes, but at least Laurel and Caroline were around to prop me up until I got my bearings again.” A shadow flitted across Janice’s fine-boned features.

  Laurel rose and laid a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “There’s been a lot of mutual propping going on over the years. Karl was a good guy. Even though we only knew him a few months before he passed, I miss him.”

  “Me, too,” said Caroline, lifting her head from the magazine. “He took us all on one of his butterfly treks into the mountains. I was only five, but I still remember. It was fun.”

  Janice smiled. “Well, folks, if you can spare me for a little while, I have a couple of things to finish in the office, and then I’ll dish the pie.”

  She disappeared up the hallway and then Caroline jumped up. “I’m supposed to Skype with Emily in a few minutes so I’ll be upstairs.”

  Just like that, Laurel and David were abandoned in the family room. Her gaze met David’s. He shrugged, smiled and took a seat in the easy chair opposite the one she’d claimed. She should feel awkward alone with this stranger who was becoming less of an outsider by the minute, but she didn’t.

  “Janice and Karl didn’t have any children, I take it.” David sipped from his mug, peering at her above the rim.

  Laurel shook her head. “They were newlyweds when they moved in next to us.”

  “Really! That makes her widowhood doubly difficult. The honeymoon hadn’t worn off.”

  “Janice hasn’t had an easy road. Her first marriage was a nightmare from start to finish—one of the reasons we’ve bonded so tightly. Based on kindred experiences, we get each other.”

  “Kindred experiences like divorce or widowhood?”

  “The nightmare marriage and divorce thing.”

  David studied the interior of his mug. “If you don’t mind my asking, is Caroline’s dad in the picture at all?” He settled a steady look on her.

  “Her father is dead.” Laurel summoned all her self-control to make that statement slowly and evenly. Funny how digging up thoughts of Steven still made her breathing go shallow and unsteady.

  “But I thought you said—”

  Laurel lifted a forestalling hand.

  “Sorry.” David’s gaze dropped. “None of my business.”

  “It isn’t, but it’s not a secret either.” She smiled to soften her words. “Steven Latrain left me for another woman more compliant and worshipful than I turned out to be, and I was grateful—both for Caroline’s sake and for mine.”

  David sat forward. “Latrain? A member of the LTR banking family?”

  “The very same. No one had ever said no to the boy, and at least to start with, I was no exception to the rule.” She wrinkled her nose. “Actually, he was well into manhood when I met him—a good decade older than this nineteen-year-old, starry-eyed college freshman. He swept me off my feet, sometimes literally. Said all the right things. Steven was a classic narcissist. Doted on himself 24/7, but he had all the moves to make you feel like serving his every whim was the height of honor and privilege. Made me feel like a princess, which was quite something for a girl raised in a backwater Colorado village by a factory worker daddy who drank himself to death by the time I was Caroline’s age.”

  “And your mother?”

  “She was out of my life before I was six. Ran off with a golf celebrity. We never heard from her again as far as I know.”

  “That’s sad.”

  “It still hurts, and I wonder sometimes, but I don’t waste a lot of effort at it.”

  “I admire your strength and dedication in raising Caroline.” David pursed his lips and sat back. “But the person I’m really sad for is the woman who missed out on the treasure of watching you grow up and enjoying an awesome granddaughter like Caroline.”

  Laurel caught her breath. “I—I hadn’t thought of the matter in quite that light before. Thank you.” Something within her heart unfurled like a flower receiving sunlight.

  “Who cared for you after your father passed away? Some other relative?”

  She snorted a laugh. “No one wanted me. I finished my underage years in a foster home. Not a bad one like you hear about—but not a real family either.”
<
br />   A scowl passed over David’s face. “Sounds to me like Latrain preyed on a young woman who was vulnerable and hungry for promises of love and family.”

  “You said a mouthful. He should have picked up on the signal that I wasn’t going to remain compliant forever when I insisted on vows and a ring before he could get everything he wanted from me. My mistake. I should have run the other way as fast as my legs could carry me. When Caroline was born, I began to develop independent thoughts. Big no-no in Steven’s world. Let’s just say…things got ugly real fast.”

  Laurel grimaced at the tea grown cold in her mug and set it aside.

  “He was abusive?” David’s face darkened, and fire flashed deep in those rain-swept eyes.

  He didn’t look like a man who could hurt a woman, but he sure looked like a man who could hurt a man who would hurt a woman. A silent thrill swept through her, but she resisted the sensation and turned her gaze toward the coffered ceiling.

  “Not at first. The moment I met Steven, he began manipulating me mentally and emotionally, only I was too naive to know it. The more I wised up and began to break free, the more the abuse escalated to include mind and spirit and eventually body.” She lifted her head and stared at David. “Some contrariness in my makeup wouldn’t allow me to give in or back down. If something in his makeup hadn’t made him distractible by easier prey, I could well be dead now. Sometimes I thought I was going to be. If not for Caroline, sometimes I wanted to be.”

  The angles and planes of David’s face softened. “That’s why you grabbed a weapon when a man you didn’t know or trust came in from prowling outside in the middle of the night.”

  “I fool myself most of the time that I’m over the past, that I’ve put those defensive reactions to rest.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose with two fingers. “But then I do something dumb on instinct like pull a knife on a guy going after firewood for his own fireplace in his own home.”