“I already know who you are. You’re Abby Newton. Daughter of Jimmy and Lily Newton.”
Ashiver ran down Clare’s back at the confirmation that other people besides Ruth and Nate knew her identity.
“How do you know that?” she asked, more out of curiosity than for any other reason.
“Bruce Young told me at the art show,” Jake said. “He was annoyed that you were digging around in what he called ‘old, sad memories.’ I had the feeling he’d been crazy about Lily before she wasmarried. Maybe he thought your story would mention him and he didn’t want that chapter of his life reopened.”
Clare shook her head. “I interviewed him when I was first here in Grand Rapids. He told me that he’d dated Lily, but I didn’t think he was particularly obsessed with her.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, I guess. At least now that you know who I am it will be easier for you to understand what I’ve done.”
Again Jake raised his hand to stop her. “You don’t have to tell me anything, Clare. I know you’re upset but you don’t owe me any explanation.” He paused then said, “ ’Course you can tell Waldo if you want.”
At the mention of his name, the dog let out a woofing sigh and Jake smiled across at her.
It was the first time she’d seen him smile. His eyes crinkled at the corners and for the first time she could imagine how good looking he would have been in his younger days. There was something solid about him that made her comfortable in his presence.
“I’d like to tell you both,” she said. Her throat was dry and she swallowed several times and then continued. “I’ve just discovered I’ve done a terrible thing.”
Hearing her own words, Clare felt a wave of peace wash over her. She’d bottled up so much emotion that it would be a pleasure to find a release. Slowly she began to tell Jake the trail that had led her to Grand Rapids, and the discovery of who she was. When her voice grew hoarse, she took a sip of tea. She found it easy to talk to him because he had no knowledge of her history or the history of her parents. And, as she spoke, she was finally able to speak about the terrible night in the woods and the awful consequences of her actions.
Other than drinking his tea, Jake sat perfectly still while she spoke. She didn’t know how much he knew about the murder. She did her best to fill in the gaps, and although she could see when a question seemed to form on his lips, he didn’t speak.
“When I broke the glass it sounded just like a gunshot,” Clare said. “I think that was what triggered the final memory and I realized that I was the one who shot Lily.”
“It’s quite a story, Clare. I can see you’ve had a long journey of discovery.” He ran a gnarled hand up through his white hair, his mouth puckered in a frown. “The only question in my mind is how much is real and how much is just a dream. It doesn’t make sense. Where would you get a gun?”
“My father had a gun. I could have taken it.”
“For what purpose, Clare? You were only four.”
“I don’t know. I was frightened. Maybe I thought my mother was in danger. It could have been any number of reasons.”
“It would help if you could remember why you took the gun.”
“I know it would, but that piece of the memory hasn’t come to me.”
Clare stopped, hearing the shrill pitch to her voice. Waldo moved restlessly on the floor as if he sensed the tension in the room
“Sorry, Clare. I have no right to push you,” Jake said.
“That’s all right. I’m glad I have someone objective to talk to. It’s hard enough making sense of any of this. I know there are parts of my memory that haven’t returned. Maybe they will or maybe I’ll never know. However, the one thing I do know is that myfather didn’t kill my mother. I did.”
Her voice shook on the last words. The words seemed to echo in the silent room. Jake’s shoulders were slumped and he stared down at the floor. He cleared his throat several times, then lifted his head.
“Knowing that, what do you intend to do with this knowledge?”
“I’ll have to go to the police. I realize it was a tragic accident andthere may be no penalty but I need to explain what actually happened.”
“All of this took place twenty-five years ago. Even if you’re right, there’s nothing to be gained by coming forward at this time.”
“I can clear my father’s name.”
Jake nodded his head as if satisfied with the answer. “From all you’ve told me about your father, I can’t believe he would want you to do that. He sacrificed everything to protect you from this knowledge. He wanted to keep you safe.”
“I am safe. The truth can’t hurt me now.”
Jake cocked his head, as if listening to her words replay in his mind. Abruptly, he went out to the kitchen and heated more water. Clare watched him in a daze, not offering to help in any way. She was emotionally drained.
Jake brought her more tea. When she didn’t move to take it, he folded the mug in her hands.
“Drink that while I take Waldo out. I need to clear my mind and then we’ll talk again.”
At the mention of his name, Waldo scrambled to his feet, his back end wiggling as Jake opened the door. The two figures trudged across the porch, one limping, the other stiff legged. Clare wondered if she should have confided in the older man. He moved as if he’d aged just listening to her story. She raised the mug to her lips, breathing in the slight lemony scent of the tea. She took several sips, letting the warmth creep through her body. Her muscles began to relax, but her mind whirled with questions.
The door opened and Waldo limped across to Clare. He let her inspect his ear and rub his head, then raised his head to indicate he’d had enough. Once more he flopped down on the floor.
She was pleased to see that the fresh air had rejuvenated Jake. His movements were more relaxed and less rigid. The lines on his face were softer and his eyes sparkled with warmth. He didn’t sit down, wandering the living room area, touching objects on the shelves as if too restless to remain still. When he spoke, his voice was strong and steady.
“Tell me one more time about the gun,” he said. “It was on the floor in the boathouse?”
“Yes.” Clare nodded. “I came in and the gun was on the floor.”
“I thought you said you had it in your hand when you were running in the woods.”
“I did. I must have brought it into the boathouse.” Clare looked over at Jake who was watching her intently. “I’ve seen so many versions of this event that it’s hard to remember. I do remember that I fell, so maybe I dropped the gun on the floor at that point.”
Jake stood up and walked over to the fireplace. He stared at the logs in the basket on the floor. He raised his head and turned to face Clare.
“How did you see the gun? Wasn’t it dark?”
“Y-yes. But there was some light.” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember. Opening them, she said, “It was in a circle of light.”
“Then what happened?”
Clare felt rattled by the intensity of Jake’s stare. His eyebrows were bunched over his eyes, deepening the lines in his forehead.
“I picked up the gun,” she said.
“Did the gun frighten you?”
“No. I think I was curious. My father never let me touch his gun. I remember running my fingers over the metal.”
“And then?”
“The door slammed against the wall of the boathouse. It frightened me and my fingers tightened around the gun.” She licked her dry lips before she could continue. “The gun fired. It was so loud in the room. I dropped the gun to cover my ears. I lost mybalance and I fell down.”
Clare crossed her arms over her chest, chilled by the memory. Jake looked stunned by the recital. He turned away from her and put his hand on the mantel as if he were meditating. When he turned around again he stared at her, his eyes dark with feeling.
“You shot the gun and then dropped it? Is that how you remember it, Clare?” he asked.
“Yes. “
“Just once.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m absolutely positive, Jake. Why do you keep asking me?”
He crossed the room and sat down on the couch beside her. He picked up her hands which were clenched into tight fists.
“I needed to be sure,” he said. He stared directly into her eyes and tightened his hold on her hands. “You’ve forgotten one salient fact about your mother’s murder, Clare. Lily wasn’t shot once. She was shot three times.”
Clare’s whole body jerked at his words. She struggled to pull her hands away but he held them tight.
“Do you understand what I’m saying? Lily Newton was shot three times, not once. You did not kill your mother.”
She was afraid to believe him. She tried to remember the clippings she’d read. Ruth had told her the main story and she’d skimmed the clippings. She had a vague recollection of reading the details of the crime but all she had focused on was the fact that Lily had been shot. Apparently she had glossed over the details or if she’d read them they never penetrated.
“I suspect you’re trying to fit all your nightmares into a new scenario but I truly don’t believe you fired the gun three times. You would remember that. Do you understand what I’ve told you, Clare?” he asked.
“I understand but I’m almost afraid to accept it. I know I should be thrilled but I still have so many questions. I thought I understood why Jimmy sent me away. I was sure it was to keep me from knowing who I was and what I had done. It made perfect sense. What does it mean, Jake? If I didn’t shoot her, who did?”
“At the moment that seems to be the most important question.”
With a final squeeze of her hands, Jake got to his feet and paced back to the fireplace. He turned to lean his back against the mantel, his eyes deeply shadowed.
“Did Jimmy kill Lily after all?” she asked.
“One would assume so. Do you think he did?”
Clare shook her head. “No. I know everything pointed to him, but from everything else I’ve learned, he doesn’t seem like a murderer. He loved Lily. I truly believe he wouldn’t have hurt her. Do you think he killed her?”
“Up until now I had no reason to doubt.” Jake cleared his throat. “Thinking back over your story there’s something that makes me suspect someone else might have killed Lily. Since you arrived in Grand Rapids, someone has been trying to prevent you from investigating Lily’s death. Too many things have happened that don’t make any sense. The sudden death of Rose’s friend. The slashed tires, the breakin here, the runaway car. Even the attack on Waldo might be connected.”
Clare sat up straight. “You think Waldo was hurt because of me?”
“I don’t know, but it’s possible that someone tried to come back into the house here and Waldo prevented it. For some reason he’s bonded to you. He’s always hanging around as if he were protecting you.”
“I feel like a Jonah,” Clare said. “Erika was in danger because of me and now Waldo. Maybe even Margee.”
“It’s always dangerous when you dig into the past.”
“Do you think that all of this is just to make me drop the investigation and go home?”
After a pause, Jake said, “I think it’s more serious than that. If Jimmy Newton didn’t kill Lily then I think the murderer is trying to keep anyone from uncovering the truth. What does Nate have to say about it?”
“Nate thought it was someone trying to prevent me from uncovering a secret. Something unconnected with the actual murder that could be discovered during an investigation,” Clare said. “We even went to talk to Chief Fogt. He said he’d look into some of the things, but I don’t think he was convinced that I wasn’t just a little paranoid. He said it could all be unrelated. Coincidences.”
“I don’t believe that,” Jake said, shaking his head.
Thephone rang, sounding shrill in the room. Clare got up and answered it.
“It’s me,” Nate said. “I’m still in Bemidji. We’ll have to postpone the pizza. Erika’s sick. She was all right this morning but in the afternoon she got sick to her stomach. My sister-in-law thinks we should just stay here overnight. Erika’s pretty miserable right now.”
“Poor baby. Don’t worry about it, Nate. Do you think it’s just a twenty-four hour bug?”
“I think so. Now that she hasn’t got anything in her stomach she might start to feel better. When I mentioned she should skip the clogging show tomorrow, she got mildly hysterical. I said we’d decide in the morning.”
“It might just be a reaction to the other night at the logging camp. Hopefully she’ll be okay. I know she’s been counting on clogging,” Clare said. “Give me a call tomorrow and let me know how she’s doing. You’ll want to keep her quiet once you get back, so why don’t I just figure to meet you at the nursing home tomorrow. The show is at three, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, Clare. I was really looking forward to seeing you.”
Despite her own emotional turmoil, Nate sounded so forlorn that Clare had to smile. “I was too, but Erika comes first. Give her my love and hopefully I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
Clare hung up and turned back to Jake. “Erika’s sick, so Nate’s staying up in Bemidji for the night.”
“I gathered as much. Why didn’t you tell him what’s been going on?”
“I didn’t want to worry him.” She shrugged. “It would have been too much to explain over the phone. Besides, there’s nothing hecan do in Bemidji, and he’s already concerned about Erika.”
Waldo raised his head as she returned to the couch, then flopped back down on the floor.
“I’m sorry you can’t talk to Nate tonight. Although you seem to be a lot calmer than when I got here. Do you think you can hold it together until tomorrow?”
Clare had to smile at his question. “Strangely enough, on some level, I feel as if a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I know I should be frightened at the possibility that Lily’s murderer is still alive. However it far outweighs the pain of believing that my father is a murderer.”
At the mention of her father, a cloud of despair washed over her.
“If my father didn’t kill my mother, why did he confess to the crime and run away?”
“I don’t know, Clare.”
“What if he found me with the gun and believed I’d shot Lily? The same reasons would apply as when I thought I had actually killed her. He was trying to protect a four-year-old from having her life scarred if she knew what she had done.”
Jake shrugged his shoulders.
“The worst part of all this is that if we’re right my father literally gave up his life for me. How can I ever forgive myself for being the instrument that led to my father’s death?”
“Now why on earth are you piling on more guilt? Give it a rest, girl,” Jake said.
“Do you think Jimmy committed suicide?” She whispered the question, almost afraid of asking it. “Do you think he thought his sacrifice was too great and got more and more depressed after he left Grand Rapids?”
Jake’s voice was gruff. “If it were me, I would think no sacrifice would be too great to keep my child safe.”
“Thank you, Jake.”
She blinked away a film of tears and gave the old man a watery smile.
“Try to avoid blaming yourself for any of this or you’ll go nuts. I’m going to take Waldo home and feed him and then I’m going to bring him back here for the night. I don’t want to spook you, but I don’t like you being here all alone.”
Clare was touched by the gesture.
“I feel perfectly safe here.”
“I’m sure you do, but I’m not taking any chances. Until you’ve had a chance to talk to Nate, I’d feel a lot better having Waldo here.”
He left with the dog, telling her they’d return after dinner. When Clare got hungry, she heated up soup and watched television until Jake returned.
“Waldo can sta
y with you tomorrow until Nate gets back,” Jake said.
“Is it all right for him to be walking around outside with the sore paw?”
“The vet said he’ll be protective about it for a while, but the exercise will keep him from stiffening up.” Jake scratched Waldo’s head and the dog pressed his body against the older man’s side.
“How about his face?” Clare asked.
Jake reached in his pocket and pulled out a small bottle of pills and two plastic bags. “She gave me some antibiotics. Give him one of these capsules tonight around nine and the other one in the morning. Here’s a bag of dried food you can give him in the morning. The other bag has some liverwurst in it. Tuck the pill inside a chunk of it and he’ll wolf it down without even noticing.”
He handed Clare the pills and the bags, holding them well above Waldo who was sniffing and wiggling as if he could coax Jake into giving it to him now. Not wanting to tease the dog, Clare put everything in the refrigerator.
“So far he’s left the stitches alone,” Jake said, pointing to the side of Waldo’s face. “The vet said if he starts to scratch them, she’ll put one of those large plastic collars on him. I’d hate to resort to such an indignity, but let me know if he starts to worry at them.”
Clare smiled at Jake’s defense of the dog’s pride, although since he didn’t object to rolling in every odorous pile, she didn’t think he’d be particularly sensitive about wearing the collar. After a final rub of the dog’s head, Jake left.
Most of the evening was spent watching television with Waldo curled up on the floor beside the couch. Emotionally she was drained and tried to avoid thinking about all that she had learned. She knew she’d eventually have to confront the ghosts of her past, butfor the moment preferred to hold her thoughts at bay. Before she went to bed, she took Waldo outside. Back inside, she locked the doors and got ready for bed. Waldo roamed around the cottage before he finally settled on the braided rug beside the bed.
Clare lay for a long time in the dark, willing herself to fall asleep. When she finally dozed her sleep was troubled by a series of flashbacks, recollections from her childhood that she was only now remembering. She caught flashes of her mother and her father, reinforcing the feeling that they were loving people who cared deeply for her. At times she woke to find tears on her cheeks. Other times Waldo woke her and she suspected she was tossing in her sleep.
Conspiracy of Silence Page 28
