by B. J Daniels
“Tell me you didn’t have an affair with Gillian,” she said to his back.
“Sorry,” he said with a shrug. “I can’t do that.” He glanced back at her, his look full of blame. “You had taken everything away from me. Gillian…well, she was there.”
“You would have had to catch her at her weakest moment or knocked-out drunk,” Anna said. “She must have hated your guts after that.”
He laughed. “I came up here thinking you needed my help, but you seem to be doing just fine. Couldn’t you find an older doctor?” He laughed.
She bristled at his comment but didn’t take the bait. She was reminded of waking up in the other hospital in pain and confusion only to have Marc tell her that she’d killed their son.
“You didn’t even call me to let me know you were in the hospital,” he said now, in that same accusing tone. “Your own husband.”
“Why would I call you? The last I heard, you were divorcing me. I’m fine, but thanks for asking. Your concern for my welfare is touching.”
She watched him tamp down his temper as she had so many times before. But she knew it was just below the surface, simmering, ready to explode without warning. He’d been in town since yesterday according to Mary Ellen. What had he been doing? Why hadn’t he come to see her?
He’d always blamed her for his volatile behavior—she made him that way. But she no longer believed that. She no longer believed anything Marc Collins said.
“What are you really doing here?” she asked, her own anger also rising.
“I’m your husband. Whether you believe it or not I care about you. I feel…responsible. I would never have told you about Gillian and me if I thought—”
“Stop it, Marc. You know I didn’t kill Gillian. I would never have hurt Gillian.”
He gripped the end bed rails and leaned toward her. His smile was pitying. “Even knowing that she wanted me? That she was the one who came on to me?”
She laughed in his face. “What else are you lying about? I would never have agreed to a reconciliation with you.”
He reared back, his face twisted in anger. “You need me. You’ve always needed me. You jumped at the chance to start over.” He moved away from the bed, walking again to the window, his back to her. “I told you I wasn’t going through with the divorce. I suggested we have dinner and make a fresh start.” His expression softened as he moved back to the end of the bed. “You were happy, excited. I told you to dress for someplace nice.”
She must have been stunned and put on the black dress, his favorite, and the high-heeled sandals without giving any thought to what she was agreeing to.
“But we never went out, did we?” she guessed.
“No, Gillian called, said she had to see you.” He frowned. “You really don’t remember?”
“Why did she want to see me?”
He shrugged, but she got the impression he knew and for some reason, was glad she couldn’t remember. “Gillian calls and you drop everything and you wonder what went wrong with our marriage?”
“You and I fought because you didn’t want me talking to her.”
His eyes narrowed. “I thought you didn’t remember.”
She was putting the pieces together, pretty much able to guess what must have happened, knowing Marc.
“You and I were discussing getting back together,” he said, sounding peeved. “I thought that was a little more important than your stupid girl-talk with your friend.”
She had a flash of memory. Marc trying to grab the phone, ordering her to hang up. But she hadn’t, because there had been something in Gillian’s voice…“Why didn’t you want me to talk to her?”
“I didn’t want her telling you about our affair. I wanted to be the one to do that,” he said.
She shook her head. “There was no affair.” It had been exactly what she’d thought it had been. Marc had taken advantage of Gillian when she was down. Just as Anna knew that Gillian would never have forgiven him. Gillian would have known that Marc would use it against her. No wonder she’d picked up even more animosity between them after her coma.
“For someone who can’t remember anything, you certainly have all the answers,” he said, eyeing her as if he suspected she was lying about her memory loss. Just as he had when she came out of the coma.
“Too bad you still don’t know what happened the night our son died,” he muttered.
Marc had been upset when she’d gotten pregnant. She’d thought it was because the pregnancy wasn’t planned and Marc liked to orchestrate everything right down to how she spent her days.
After Tyler was born, she saw a side of her husband she didn’t like, but she’d been so happy with her son that she’d told herself Marc would outgrow his jealousy.
She’d never been able to remember the night she’d taken Tyler and left the house. She’d always felt there was more to the story, something Marc hadn’t told her—like why she’d left with Tyler that night.
Looking at Marc now, she finally admitted something she hadn’t wanted to. Their marriage had been a disappointment to them both. And she hadn’t loved Marc Collins for a very long time.
“Gillian was still looking for the hit-and-run driver, wasn’t she?” Anna asked, thinking of the note. “That’s why she called me that night. She’d discovered something.”
“You tell me—you’re the one who went to see her,” Marc said, banking no doubt on Anna not being able to remember.
Had she gone to see Gillian? Anna felt a chill snake up her spine. What had happened once she got there? And why couldn’t she remember seeing Gillian?
“You’re kidding yourself if you think it had anything to do with the hit-and run,” Marc said. “She’d given up that quest months before. She only told you she was still looking to appease you.”
“That’s not true.” Anna clung to the belief that Gillian would have never stopped searching for information about the hit-and-run, because she knew how much Anna needed to know.
“She just wanted to tell you about the affair between us before I did,” Marc said smugly.
Anna shook her head. “Gillian had news about the hit-and-run. That’s why I went over there.”
“Oh, yeah? Then why did you take your gun?” He smiled at her surprise. “I checked. It’s gone.”
AFTER HIS EARLY MEETING WITH Ruth Fairbanks, Police Chief Rob Nash had been called down to the station to take care of the paperwork involved in Jack Fairbanks’s exhumation.
When Walker called, Nash had been shocked to learn about the body found in the trunk of Anna Collins’s car. It was time to call in the state criminal investigation division to take over. Shadow Lake didn’t have the manpower, especially when all Nash wanted to do was get home to Lucinda.
He’d told Walker to handle the interview with Anna Collins. “Write up your report for CID. I’ll call them and have them take over the investigation.”
At half-past one, he’d driven home, afraid he’d find Lucinda long gone. Pulling into the driveway, he shut off the engine and just sat there. The lights were on in the garage for some reason. He could see the top of Lucinda’s car through the window.
She was still here apparently, and that surprised him just as much as it had last night.
He couldn’t believe the past few days. He tried to catch his breath as he thought about confronting his wife, his cheating wife. His chest constricted. He told himself he was having a heart attack, but he knew that would be the easy way out and not the way his life had ever gone.
He’d have to face her. He knew it was part shame and part fear that kept him now rooted in the car. He was afraid what she would tell him. Even more afraid of what he might do—especially after last time.
Why hadn’t she been smart enough to leave him? Her lover would have given her money to leave. Nash would bet on that.
He had to resolve this. He couldn’t concentrate on his job. Now that a body had been found in the trunk of Anna Collins’s car, Shadow Lake had a murder on its h
ands. While the state boys would handle the case, Nash would still need to be available to assist—especially with the Fairbankses somehow involved in all this.
He’d known when he told Walker about Ruth Fairbanks’s plan to have Jack’s body exhumed that he’d hit the roof. He had. Walker was too personally involved with the Fairbanks to handle the Anna Collins investigation after today.
But it wasn’t until Nash had parked in his driveway that he realized he’d forgotten to call the state boys. Tomorrow. Later, after he talked to Lucinda.
One mistake had already been made in the investigation—opening that damned trunk with a crowbar without reasonable cause.
It was going to be a pressure cooker the next few days. The state CID boys wouldn’t be happy about the crowbar incident, since it would hurt a case against Anna Collins.
Nash knew he had to get his head back on straight. He didn’t want to end his career on a sour note, not with as many years as he’d put in and the pride he’d once had in the job he’d done.
On top of the trunk incident, Walker had apparently tried to get a confession out of Anna Collins and ignored her request for a lawyer. Nash rubbed his forehead. The only person he wanted to force a confession out of right now was his own wife.
Dropping his head in his hands, he told himself that Anna Collins wasn’t going anywhere. Walker had followed procedure and had her car taken to Tiny’s Garage. It was locked up tight and the body had been photographed and taken to the Eternal Rest Funeral Home to be refrigerated until an autopsy could be done. No real harm had been done since it appeared to be an open-and-shut case.
It was now time for Nash to take care of his personal life. Then get back to work.
Clumsily, he got out of the car, closed the door and headed for the house. He saw the curtain move. Lucinda had been watching him from the window. Hoping he wouldn’t come home? Or hoping he would, so she could tell him whatever she’d planned to tell him last night. He figured he’d stopped her from confessing about the boyfriend and the fact that she was leaving him.
He opened the front door and stepped in, struck by a sense of déjà vu. The house still smelled like pot roast.
“I heated up leftovers for dinner,” Lucinda called from the kitchen. He could hear her scurrying about the kitchen, trying to act as if everything was normal. “If you want to wash up…”
He stood just inside the doorway, glancing around as if he’d never seen his house before. As usual, the place was spotless. He frowned as he noticed that the dining room table was set with his mother’s good china and candles flickered from the centerpiece Lucinda had made out of pinecones the first week they were married—just as it had been last night.
His throat was so dry it hurt to swallow.
“Rob?” She sounded tentative. Or was it fear he heard?
“I’ll just wash up and change,” he said, voice cracking. Like her, he wanted to pretend that nothing had happened. Nothing had changed. He moved toward the bedroom, afraid of what he would find.
But when he stepped into the room, he didn’t see anything out of place. Moving to the closet, he opened it. Her clothes were still hanging beside his. He slumped against the wall with relief even though he knew he couldn’t live the rest of his life coming home every night expecting her to be gone.
He heard her behind him.
“Rob?”
Something seized up in his chest. He didn’t turn to look at her. “I saw you.” He was crying, the words coming out in chest-heaving sobs. “I saw you with Jonathan Fairbanks. I know you’ve been having an affair with him.”
“What?”
A note of shock instead of alarm in her voice made him turn to look at her.
She appeared dumbfounded.
He took a step toward her. “Don’t lie to me, Lucinda. I saw you get into his car the night I went to Pilot’s Cove.”
“I’m not lying.” She held her ground. “I would never have an affair with that bastard.”
The fierceness of her words was like being doused with cold water. “Then why would you—”
Her face crumpled. “I’ve wanted to tell you, but I was afraid of what you would do when you found out.” She wrung her hands. “I’ve changed since I met you. You have to believe that. But I did things before I met you….”
“What does that have to do with Fairbanks?” he demanded.
“I came to Shadow Lake looking for him.”
Nash shrank back, shaking his head. She reached for him, but he withdrew even farther, unable to stand her touch right now.
“You don’t understand. I came to Shadow Lake to blackmail him.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
NOTHING LUCINDA COULD have said would have surprised the police chief more. Nash stumbled over to the bed and sat down heavily. “Blackmail?”
“Well, not really blackmail exactly.”
He looked up at his wife and patted the bed next to him. “What exactly?” He watched her rub her arms, as if she was cold, as she gingerly sat down next to him.
“It had to do with his brother, Jack.”
“Jack? Jack is dead.”
“I know that now, but at the time…When you met me I wasn’t passing through town like I told you. I wasn’t on summer vacation. I was broke and…desperate.”
He remembered the way she’d been then, a waitress at the local café. She’d so obviously needed help. And he’d been ready to step in.
“I didn’t have any idea who the Fairbankses were,” she said, and grimaced. “I’ve never really paid any attention to politics, you know. I was so shocked when I found out that they were rich and lived on an island. And that the father was a senator. I’d never even seen the guy.”
“Jack Fairbanks?”
She nodded. “Or his brother Jonathan.”
“Then how could you blackmail him?” Nash asked starting to lose patience.
“I just knew about Jack Fairbanks’s car,” she said.
“His car? Lucinda—”
“I’m sorry. I know I’m doing a terrible job of explaining this, but it’s because I hate to tell you,” she said, putting her head down and placing her hand over her stomach. “I didn’t want you to know some things about me, about my past.”
He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he knew all about her past. Did she really think he would marry someone without doing at least a little checking on her? He was a police chief, for heaven’s sake.
“I was going to tell you sometime though, really.”
Sure she was. “I don’t care about your past.”
“I planned to tell you last night.”
He felt his face flame. “I’m sorry if I hurt you—”
“I understand now why you were upset with me.”
“I saw you get into Jonathan Fairbanks’s car at midnight. What was I supposed to think? Lucinda, what is this about blackmail and Jack Fairbanks’s car?”
“I used to know this guy who did stuff.”
Nash groaned inwardly. “Leon Markowitz. He stole cars, stripped them down and sold the parts. He went to prison for it. I know, Lucinda. You got probation because you didn’t know anything about the operation.”
She ducked her head again. “That wasn’t true.”
“Honey,” he said turning her to face him. “Tell me what any of this has to do with the Fairbankses.”
“One of the cars that Leon stole belonged to Jack Fairbanks.”
Jack had driven a fancy SUV, black with every gadget known to man. “Your boyfriend stole Jack’s car?” Nash remembered. He’d filled out the police report. The car had been stolen in Shadow Lake and was never recovered. “You saw the car?” he asked, frowning. “You came to Shadow Lake?”
She shook her head. “The car was stolen in Seattle. Leon always dumped everything that was inside the stolen cars into a plastic bag and then we would go through it together.” She bit her lip.
“I’m not going to arrest you, all right?”
Lucinda smiled and k
issed him on the cheek excitedly, as if glad to finally be telling him about this. “Guess what I found in the stuff from the car? Drugs.”
He stared at her. “Drugs? This is the big secret?”
“Hey, drugs in the senator’s son’s car. What if a newspaper got hold of that information?”
“I thought you didn’t know who Jack Fairbanks was?” Nash challenged.
“I didn’t. But Leon told me to keep the stuff, not the drugs, but the other stuff in case I ever needed money because I could shake down the Fairbankses. He would have probably done it himself but he got busted.”
Nash looked at his wife and felt such a tenderness for her. He knew it was nuts, being relieved she was only a car thief’s accomplice and a blackmailer. “So you decided to blackmail Fairbanks since Leon was locked up and, hey, why waste the information.”
She frowned at his sarcasm. “I’ll admit I used to be an opportunist.” Not that long ago. “I figured the Fairbankses would blow me off, but I had nothing to lose. I was a different person back then, you have to believe that.” Her eyes were wide and bluer than he could ever remember seeing them. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes.” She rolled her eyes. “A whole lot of mistakes, but don’t you see, you changed me.”
He wanted to believe that. “You didn’t come into an inheritance shortly after you got to town, did you? Your car and all the new clothes?”
“Jonathan Fairbanks,” she said, and nodded.
“How much did you blackmail him for?”
“Twenty-five thousand.”
Nash let out a curse. “What?”
She stood. “I knew you’d be angry. See why I didn’t tell you?”
“Lucinda, I just can’t believe that Jonathan Fairbanks would pay you twenty-five thousand dollars to keep you quiet about some drugs found in his dead brother’s car. First off, you could never prove it. Second, any evidence you have would only incriminate you. And third, no newspaper would print the story without proof.”
“But with the stuff from Jack’s car—”
“It only proves that you were involved in stealing the car.” He shook his head, amazed Jonathan Fairbanks would let himself be blackmailed. Even to cover for his brother. Maybe especially to cover for his brother. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
