by C. B. Clark
She stared, her face pale. “Who put it there?”
Her shock seemed real, but he kept at her, the need to attack raging through him. “The question is where did you find it?”
“Me? You think I hid a piece of Skye’s scarf in the barn?”
“You told the sheriff you went out to the farm after everyone was gone. Maybe you found part of her scarf lying on the ground. When her body was found, you realized what you had. You’ve kept the scarf all these years, hoping you could use it someday to get back at me.”
Stop! The warning blazed through him. But he couldn’t. Even though he knew every word out of his mouth was ridiculous, he couldn’t block them. “You hid the scrap of silk in the barn, and you texted me. You told me to go out to Rankin’s Farm and look for it. Then you called the sheriff’s department, hoping a deputy would find me holding a key piece of evidence. Lucky for me, I left before they arrived, or I’d be in jail right now.”
A pulse beat in her slender throat. Her eyes flashed, the amber turning gold, reminding him of an angry lioness. She stomped closer, stopping when her sock-covered toes bumped the front of his boots. “Do you actually believe I set you up?” Every muscle in her slim body tensed. “Where would I have found a piece of Skye’s scarf? I wasn’t even at Prom.” She poked him in the chest, emphasizing each word. “Remember? I. Stayed. Home. I never attended Prom because my boyfriend broke up with me and took another girl.” She glared at him, disgust written across her face.
He fought the urge to rub his chest where her finger had stabbed. “If you didn’t hide the piece of scarf, who did?”
“How the hell would I know? Did you stop to think this…” She jabbed the bag. “This has probably been in the stall since the night she was murdered? The murderer left it.”
He shook his head. “The fabric’s too clean. This hasn’t been in the barn longer than a few days.”
Her eyes flashed fire. “You’re a piece of work, you know that? You’re so desperate to prove your innocence, you’re willing to blame anyone you can.”
All the anger, all the pain of the past twelve years reached critical mass and exploded out of him. “You try living my life, lady. Do you think it’s been easy knowing everyone thinks I’m a murderer?” He spit out the words, tasting the bitterness and hurt he’d lived with these past years.
Tears filmed her eyes, sparkling on her eyelashes. “Living in this town couldn’t have been easy. Leland told me how people treated you after Skye’s murder. How they all thought you were guilty.” A single tear slid down her cheek and trembled on her chin.
Her tears added fuel to his anger. He didn’t want her pity. He wanted to wound her like she’d hurt him, and so he charged on. “Well, you got what you wanted. The sheriff was all over me the night Skye disappeared. He was so certain I murdered her, he was practically salivating.”
“I…” She wiped her face. “I was upset, true, but I had nothing to do with the sheriff arresting you.”
“I heard different.”
“What do you mean?”
“You told the sheriff you saw me at the farm after everyone had left.”
“Do you think I wanted to tell him? He called me in for questioning. I had to tell the truth.” She turned pleading eyes on him. “I didn’t want to. I knew how bad what I had to say would make you look, but Leland and Vivian hounded me until I did. When I was questioned, no one knew she’d been murdered. We all thought she’d run away.” Her shoulders slumped. “I wanted to help find her. I didn’t know…I didn’t…” Her voice died. She looked beaten, but she kept her gaze fixed on his.
His anger vanished, leaving him weak. He’d come here looking for a fight, wanting to take his frustration out on her. Now look at her. She was right—he was a piece of work. He leaned closer, so close the warmth of her body seared his skin. He wiped a tear from her cheek, his hand lingering, savoring the softness of her skin.
Their gazes connected and held.
His heart thudded as he contemplated her mouth, the lips full and inviting. Sweat trickled down his sides. He bent his head. Their lips touched, all the anger of seconds earlier morphing into something else, something sweeter. He groaned.
She stiffened, and he jerked away as if she’d slapped him. “Sorry,” he croaked, though for which of his many sins he was sorry, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know what else to say. He’d already said more than enough. With heavy steps, he turned and walked out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
Chapter 11
Carrie Ann stumbled back to the bed and collapsed on the rumpled blankets. Using a tissue, she wiped her wet cheeks. She’d expected Declan’s anger. Even his outrage and accusations hadn’t surprised her. What shocked her, what pierced her soul, was the hurt in his dark eyes, the pain so similar to her own.
When he’d touched her, something inside had shattered, leaving her open and vulnerable to a riot of emotions. The desire in his eyes had startled her, but she’d wanted his kiss, reveled in the warm press of his lips against hers. The touch of his tongue seeking hers, his familiar taste, and she wanted more, so much more. Then thoughts of Bonnie had intruded, and she’d stiffened and turned away.
A knock at the door set her heart racing with a wild surge of hope. Declan! He’d come back. She stood and faced the door, her mind whirling with everything she hadn’t said.
The door opened and Vivian shuffled into the room. Her aunt’s sharp-eyed gaze slid over her, taking in Carrie Ann’s tearstained face and rumpled clothes. The lines bracketing Vivian’s mouth tightened, and she shook her head. Expelling a loud sigh, she sat on a chair by Carrie Ann’s old study desk and crossed one thin, nylon-clad leg over the other, smoothing her wool skirt over her bony knees.
Carrie Ann sank back on the bed. “I’m tired, Vivian. Can we do this another time?”
“I’m tired too, but I have something to say to you, and it can’t wait.”
“Of course it can’t.”
Vivian’s thin hands fluttered, fussing with her skirt, smoothing a strand of loose hair, and back to her skirt again. A deep cough racked her thin body. Her face paled as she inhaled a shaky, torturous breath. Under the layer of artfully applied makeup, Vivian’s face was white and gaunt. Lines etched across her forehead, and a deep furrow ran between her perfectly shaped brows. She resembled an old woman, frail and worn. Only her eyes retained the furious energy she’d always possessed. Vivian cleared her throat. “I heard you and Declan arguing.”
“Were you listening at the door?” Eavesdropping had been a favorite trick of Vivian’s on the rare occasions Carrie Ann had been allowed to have a friend over.
Vivian sniffed. “I didn’t have to. Your voices carried all the way downstairs.” She coughed again, a deep, phlegmy hack. Withdrawing a white, lace-edged handkerchief from the sleeve of her blouse, she dabbed at her mouth. “Declan`s been through a rough time. I feel responsible for what happened.”
“You should. You helped point the finger of blame.”
“I know.” Vivian struggled to sit up straighter. “You had a part to play in this too, my dear.”
“Me? I wasn’t the one who urged the sheriff to charge Declan with Skye’s murder. I wasn’t the one sleeping with the county judge and whispering lies about Declan in his ear. I didn’t try to railroad a boy into jail just to get him away from my niece.”
Vivian paled but held her gaze steady. “I’m not proud of what I did, but at the time, I thought I was doing what was best for you.”
Carrie Ann laughed, the taste bitter in her mouth. “Me? What good did you do me? Declan and I had already broken up before Skye was murdered.”
“You would have found your way back to each other. You two were too much in love to stay apart for long.” Vivian spread her hands on her lap. “I couldn’t allow you to get together again.”
“You couldn’t allow it? You thought it better I destroy the baby I was carrying because you were convinced the father was a murderer?”
�
��I’m admitting to my mistakes, Carrie Ann, but you’re responsible for your own choices.”
“I was sixteen years old.”
“Old enough to have a mind of your own. Even though you were certain Declan was innocent, you still allowed me and Leland to convince you to leave town and to terminate your pregnancy.”
Anger soared through Carrie Ann, the heat scorching. She jumped to her feet. “Bonnie! Her name is Bonnie.”
Vivian’s eyes softened. “I know, dear. And she’s a lovely child. You’ve done a wonderful job with her. You’re a good mother.”
“How do you know anything about her?” She’d been careful to keep Bonnie away from Vivian and Cooper’s Ridge.
A glint of the old, determined Vivian shone in her aunt’s eyes. “You don’t think I wouldn’t keep track of you, do you? All these years? You’re my niece, dear, my only surviving relative. In spite of what you believe, I do care for you.”
“How—”
Vivian cut her off. “Declan has suffered enough, don’t you think? I believe he’s innocent.”
“Leland doesn’t agree with you.”
Vivian’s face hardened, and she turned away. “Leland has his own agenda.” A heavy silence hung over the room. “After Declan is cleared, I will tell him about Bonnie.”
“You have no right.”
Vivian’s eyes were hooded. “I do, Carrie Ann. I have every right. It’s called human decency. The man deserves to know he has a daughter.”
Panic filled Carrie Ann, and her blood turned to ice. If Declan discovered he had a daughter, he’d want to meet her. Bonnie would know her mother had lied to her all these years. “Please, don’t do this.”
Vivian stood and smoothed the wrinkles from the front of her skirt. “Then you tell him. Far better he hears it from you than from one of the town gossips.” Vivian’s gaze fixed on her. “You know they’ll find out. They always do.” She walked out of the room.
Carrie Ann rubbed her aching temples. She’d been so young when she found out she was pregnant. She didn’t want a baby. Not then. She had plans, none of which included bearing a child at sixteen. She’d wanted to go to college, earn a degree in medicine and become a doctor. Declan was going to work for a year so he could pay for college. He had dreams of earning a Business Degree and starting his own company.
They were in love. They wanted to get married and have children eventually. But not at sixteen, not before she’d even finished high school. Even so, they might have figured a way to have it all…baby, college, and marriage, but before she could tell him of the pregnancy, they’d had yet another fight.
Her stomach knotted as memories assailed her. The problem started like it always did—an argument over Skye Lawrence.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” Declan’s dark eyes flashed. “Skye and I are just friends.” He yanked out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from the back pocket of his faded jeans and tapped out a cigarette. Using a cheap, plastic lighter, he flicked a flame to life with his thumbnail and lit the end of his cigarette. He sucked in a deep drag and expelled a cloud of smoke. “It’s not easy for her. Her old man’s always hassling her.” His face hardened. “Skye won’t admit it, but I’m sure the bastard hits her.”
Carrie Ann threw her hands up in the air. How could he not see it? “Skye likes you. She really likes you.” Her insides twisted when she thought of just how much Skye liked Declan. The tall, thin girl threw herself at him every chance she got. She was always touching him, brushing his hair off his forehead, or rubbing her pointy breasts against him like a cat in heat.
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying you don’t trust me?”
“Of course not. It’s Skye I don’t trust.”
He picked off a fleck of tobacco from his bottom lip. His gaze zeroed in on her. “You’re not still mad about what happened at Joey’s party, are you? I told you that was nothing. Skye was upset about something her old man had done. She was crying. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t ignore her.”
Carrie Ann couldn’t stop a snort of disbelief. “And that’s why you two were wrapped in each other’s arms like a couple of pretzels?”
He tossed his cigarette into the river. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. Skye and I are friends.”
Unable to look at him another second, she turned her back. Fury razed through her like a wildfire. How could he stand there and lie? Didn’t he know Skye had told her what really happened that night? That Declan and Skye had made out?
She jumped when he touched her arm. His fingers burned her skin, and she snatched her arm away. “Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare.”
“Come on, Carrie Ann, don’t do this. Please.” Once again, he stroked her arm. This time she didn’t pull away. How could she when his lightest touch set off an explosion of sensation that left her desperate for more? She turned and burrowed into his arms.
But then an image of him kissing Skye rose before her, and she stiffened and wrenched free of his embrace. “No!” She scrubbed her hand over her mouth, wiping away his taste. “We’re not doing this. Not now. Not ever again.” Her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe through the constriction blocking her throat. “You lied to me. I’ll never forgive you. Never.”
“Carrie Ann.” His voice was a hoarse cry as he reached for her.
She backed away holding her hands in front of her, stopping him. “We’re over, Declan.” Her voice hitched up an octave. “Do you hear me? We’re done. I never want to see you again.” Her heart shattered as the pain drove her to her knees.
“Don’t do this.” He crouched before her, his face close to hers. “Please.”
She shook her head, her hair whipping around her face. “It’s over.” She covered her face with her hands as tears streamed down her cheeks.
His harsh breathing was loud in the quiet glade.
She fought back a deluge of tears, waiting for him to leave, so she could sink into the looming pit of despair.
“Okay.” He blew out a loud gust of air. “If that’s what you want.”
Peeking through her fingers, she watched as he stood and walked away, disappearing into the forest. A sob broke free, and she sagged on the ground.
And that was it. Just like that, their relationship was over. In spite of all the hurt and anger, they might have found their way back to each other, but he’d done the unthinkable and asked Skye to Prom. Carrie Ann had found out she was pregnant the same day.
Her world fell apart. Pregnant and alone at sixteen. For days she didn’t eat, didn’t sleep. She sat alone in her room crying, until the tears dried up. She had to do something. Her breath hitched in her throat as she recalled the awful morning she’d gone to Declan’s house to tell him of her pregnancy. Even though he’d betrayed her, he deserved to know she was carrying his child.
Her heart had thudded in her throat as she knocked on his door. She’d forced a smile when his mother opened it, her dark hair tangled, a stained nightgown floating like a shroud around her too-thin body.
“Carrie Ann.” Mrs. McAllister blinked at her through puffy, reddened, bleary eyes. “Declan’s asleep.” She stumbled and swayed, clutching the doorframe for support.
“Can you wake him? I need to talk to him.”
Mrs. McAllister peered at her. A frown settled between her brows. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”
“I’m fine,” Carrie Ann lied, swallowing back bile as another bout of morning sickness threatened to engulf her. “Please, just get Declan.”
“Are you sure? Because if you’re feeling poorly, I got some pills you should try. They’ll fix damn near anything that ails you.” She giggled and stumbled as she lost her grip on the doorframe.
Carrie Ann grabbed the woman’s skeletal arm, steadying her.
The older woman giggled some more, the girlish sound a stark contrast to her ravaged face and lifeless, pale eyes. A livid, purple bruise stained one cheek, and her bottom lip was swollen, a crust of dried blood at
the corner of her mouth.
Carrie Ann shuddered at this sign of Declan’s father’s handiwork. “You should go back to bed and rest, Mrs. McAllister. Let me help you.”
A flash of clarity lit the older woman’s eyes. “You’re a nice girl, Carrie Ann. Declan’s lucky to have you in his life.”
A lump rose in her throat. “Can I come in and see him?”
The clarity was gone, the puffy eyes once again vague and unfocused. “He’s not alone. They’re sleeping.”
“They?” Carrie Ann asked, though her stomach roiled.
“He and Skye Lawrence. They’ve been here all night.” Mrs. McAllister cackled. “Don’t know what they been doing, but they sure was quiet. I ain’t heard a thing.” A dreamy look flashed across her face. “I didn’t hear nothin’ all night.” She turned and staggered back into the hall, vanishing into the gloom, leaving the door gaping open.
Tears filled Carrie Ann’s eyes. Declan and Skye had spent the night together. A sob shook her shoulders, her stomach heaved, and she hunched over and spewed vomit into the weeds beside the steps.
The next days had passed in a daze as the world she knew shattered into a million pieces. Skye had gone missing, and then her body was discovered in the forest behind Rankin’s Farm. The sheriff and his deputies had questioned everyone who knew Skye and who had been at the prom party. Declan became the prime suspect, and Carrie Ann had been called in to testify.
Left with no other option, she’d gone to Leland and told him of her pregnancy, asking him for help. He, of course, told Vivian, and the situation spiraled out of control. Vivian took over. The next thing Carrie Ann knew, she was outside the Heartland Women’s Clinic in Seattle preparing to have an abortion.
But she hadn’t gone through with the operation. For the first time in her life, she stood up to her aunt. She refused to have the procedure and had walked away, losing herself in the anonymity of the city. That night was the worst and the best night of her life. Choosing to go through with the pregnancy, to give birth to her daughter, was her singular, shining moment. One she never regretted.
