Perceived sins. Despite what she and everyone else believed, his father, Gus, hadn’t killed Hailey’s sister Brenda. Mac knew his dad. The elder Morrison was a kindhearted man, always helping others. He’d been a good father, a great father, and Mac had looked up to him, even after he’d been tried on trumped-up charges and sent off to prison for a crime he hadn’t committed.
When the prison had called with the news of his dad’s impending release—they’d called it Compassionate Release—due to severe and terminal health issues, Mac had been shocked. He’d immediately hightailed it up to the prison to see for himself. The sight of Gus Morrison, a once stout man, with his bones riding too close to the surface of his loose and paper-thin skin, had hurt.
“Pancreatic cancer,” Gus had rasped. “Stage four and inoperable. I don’t want your pity, son. I just want to go home to die.”
By home, he meant the family home in the town that had castigated him. Since they still owned the house free and clear and were current on the property taxes, Mac saw no reason not to give his father his wish.
So for the first time in a decade, Mac had driven back to east Texas, to the little town of Legacy, north of Mineola.
He’d finally gotten his dad settled in the wreck of a building that had once been the family home. Years of abandonment had taken its toll on the place. Mac had gone in and chased out the rodents, patched up the holes and made sure the electrical and plumbing still worked. By some miracle, they did.
Hospice had brought out the hospital bed and a bedpan, though they only checked in a few times a week. If he wanted round-the-clock care for his father, he’d have to hire a private nurse. For right now, Mac figured he’d do the best he could.
Then, with Gus settled and the hospice nurse visiting, Mac had driven out to attempt to make peace with Hailey. Her decisive reaction had put a quick end to that idea.
What had he expected after all?
Had he honestly thought the passage of time would have magically mended the huge rift between them? Closure, that oft-bandied-about term, clearly wasn’t going to be easy in this situation. In fact, he almost felt like he’d never left.
The thought made him feel uneasy. Determined to do the right thing for his father, he hadn’t thought about what going back would actually mean. After all, Gus hadn’t been around town after his arrest. He hadn’t seen the way the townspeople had reacted to the news of Gus Morrison’s indictment. Or how his wife and son were made scapegoats. Shopkeepers had refused to wait on them, waitresses wouldn’t serve them. Things had gotten so bad they’d had to drive to the next town over to buy groceries and gas.
Small towns could be brutal sometimes. But now that a decade had gone by, Mac hoped things would be different. They sure as hell better be. He wasn’t an uncertain teenager anymore.
Taking a deep breath, he shook his head at his own foolishness. Ten years had passed. People had moved on with their lives. He doubted anyone would even remember him, never mind consider holding him accountable for what they believed his father had done.
While the real killer, the monster who’d attacked Brenda Green and strangled her, had gotten away scot-free.
Though beautiful flowers adorned Hailey’s neat home, his place looked old, beat and barren. With all the major repairs he had to make to get the place livable, he knew he wouldn’t get around to doing anything cosmetic for a good while.
Letting himself into the small house, he followed the scent of bleach mixed with medicine. His father sat up in the bed, valiantly trying to eat while Dolores, the hospice nurse, looked on and quietly encouraged him.
Mac had read volumes on pancreatic cancer. He knew the progression of the disease would make it increasingly difficult for his father to eat.
“Son.” Spying Mac, Gus motioned him over.
Mac pulled up a chair next to the bed. “How’re you feeling, Dad?”
“Like hell.” A ghost of a smile flitted over the older man’s face. Since he’d lost weight, his skin hung loose on too-sharp bones.
Mac’s chest squeezed. “I’m sorry.”
Shaking his head, Gus waved away his words. He glanced at Dolores—a curly-haired older woman with thick eyeglasses—and winked. “Dolores, do you mind taking a break? I want a private word with my son.”
“Of course.” Dolores stood. “I need to stretch my legs anyway. I’ll be outside if you need me.”
Gus waited until the front door had closed behind her. “I need one more favor from you, Mac. I’m sorry, because I swore I wouldn’t ask for more than you’ve already given me. But I can’t die with this stain on our good name.” He took a deep breath, then erupted in a short bout of coughing.
Waiting, Mac had a feeling he knew exactly what his father was about to say. He couldn’t say he blamed him; he’d want the same thing if their positions were reversed.
“Find out who really killed that girl,” Gus finally rasped. “You know I didn’t do it. Clear my name before I pass away. Could you do that for me, son?”
How could he not? Slowly, Mac nodded. He’d actually been expecting this request. Of course, his father had no idea that Mac had been trying to find the real killer without success for ten long years. “Sure,” he said, his chest aching. “I’ll get started immediately.”
It was the first time he’d lied to his father since he’d been a teenager.
* * *
Mac’s return was all Hailey could think about. Though he probably didn’t remember, the anniversary of Brenda’s murder was one day away. At first, they’d marked this date with somber visits to the grave, bearing flowers. They’d done a few interviews, skirting the deep emotions, vocalizing how glad they were that the killing hadn’t continued.
After a few years, they’d begun pretending the day didn’t exist. Hailey had tried to keep up the tradition by taking the kids to visit a sister they didn’t even remember, but June had finally told her tiredly to stop.
Now, Hailey would mark the anniversary with a quiet prayer. June would do her best to stay drunk, beginning the moment she opened her eyes until she passed out, oblivious to both pain and memories. This year, her mother had started early.
Hailey did her usual chores while her mother slept off her drinking binge. At least she’d come home this time. Someone had dropped her off, and she’d staggered into the house right before Hailey got up to begin the day. This was infinitely preferable over getting a call in the middle of the night asking Hailey to pick up June at the Legacy police station. As long as she didn’t drive, the officers remained sympathetic toward her. The woman’s daughter had been murdered after all. No one could blame her for turning to alcohol to drown her sorrows.
Except Hailey did. She understood grieving—heck, she’d grieved over her baby sister’s loss, too. But June had other children. Eli had just turned one when Brenda died and the twins were four. June had let her seventeen-year-old daughter shoulder the responsibility for her entire family. Hailey had needed her to be strong, especially after her stepdad-slash-adoptive father, Aaron—the younger kids’ birth father—had taken off. He’d given both Brenda and Hailey his name, but little else. As far as Hailey knew, he and June had never actually divorced, but he certainly didn’t pay child support or make any effort to see his kids.
Or—and she winced at the thought—if he did sporadically, June drank the money away.
Hailey blinked, realizing she’d been standing near the sink staring blindly, the task at hand forgotten. Seeing Mac again had made her lose track of the present and revisit the past. Since the past couldn’t be changed, Hailey believed in moving forward. She tried not to dwell on things that would make her sad. After all, she had her life to live and enough responsibility for two twenty-seven-year-olds.
Speaking of responsibility, right at this moment it meant boiling noodles to mix with tuna and peas for their dinner toni
ght. She shook her head at her own foolishness and got back to peeling carrots, cutting them before adding them to the broth.
In a few hours, she’d leave to go pick up Eli from elementary school and then Tom and Tara from middle school. Their mother might or might not wake up to eat supper, but Hailey would take her a plate anyway.
After dinner, Hailey would help her younger siblings with their homework, and later they’d all watch some television. She’d monitor their internet usage, a fact of life that totally irked the fourteen-year-old twins, though not nearly as much as the fact that they still had dial-up since they couldn’t afford broadband, and later tuck them into bed with a kiss.
Despite being their older sister, she did everything her mother should have done but wasn’t capable of.
Again she thought of Mac and his father. Mac had never believed in Gus’s guilt, even when a jury had convicted him. Too bad Mac couldn’t have seen what Brenda’s murder had done to her family. Luckily, Hailey had been strong enough to pick up the pieces. She’d been determined to give her brothers and sister the best, most normal life possible, even if doing so meant sacrificing her own.
Now that the kids had gotten older, Hailey had begun taking an occasional class at the junior college the next town over. She paid for this—and for the kids’ essentials—by operating her own resume business, walking the neighbors’ dogs, cleaning houses during school hours, taking in laundry and ironing, running errands for elderly shut-ins, basically picking up any work she could. She also tried to make sure to get her mother’s disability check before the woman could drink it all away. They weren’t rich by any means, but Hailey made sure the children were fed and clean and, most important, loved.
If she sometimes longed for a life of her own outside of tiny Legacy, Texas, she didn’t allow herself to wallow in self-pity for long. She simply had too much to do.
She didn’t date, unwilling and unable to divide her time any further. Plus, she didn’t need the complications having a boyfriend would bring. Her busy life had settled into a sort of static routine that felt normal and safe.
Except today... Seeing Mac on her doorstep made her feel alive in a way she hadn’t for years. Ten, to be exact. She found this both terrifying and exhilarating.
Of course, she wouldn’t be seeing him again. Just because he’d moved back to Legacy didn’t mean they’d be running into each other all the time. Nothing was going to change.
Maybe if she told herself that often enough, she’d come to actually believe it.
Chapter 2
After a restless night, Mac abandoned any attempt at sleeping and got up with the sun. He showered and dressed, then quietly padded into the kitchen to make coffee and a pan of oatmeal. He fixed his breakfast and ate, leaving the rest of the oatmeal for Gus to have when he woke.
The sound of the television coming on alerted Mac that Gus was up. Gus loved to watch the morning news, a habit he’d no doubt developed while in prison as he’d always been an evening news kind of guy before.
“Are you ready for breakfast?” Mac called. He’d nuke the oatmeal, add raisins, a spoonful of protein powder and milk, and carry it in to his father.
“Mac!” Gus tried to shout, but only succeeded in a loud croak. “Come in here. You’ve got to see this.”
Mac hurried in, just in time to hear the news reporter comment on a teenage girl’s murder that had happened a few hours ago in the tiny east Texas town of Legacy. The reporter informed them excitedly that this was the first murder in ten years, the first since Brenda Green’s body was found in this exact same spot.
Stunned, Mac reeled. Glancing at his father, who wore a grim expression of pain mingled with satisfaction on his wasted face, he looked back at the television.
Ten years to the day. And right after Mac and Gus had come back to town. Then, a combination of relief and horror flooded through him. Relief, because anyone looking at his father could tell instantly he wouldn’t have been able to do it—the man could barely even walk, for pity’s sake—and horror because of the killer’s choice of date and place. Ten long years had passed since the first murder. What would make someone do such a thing to celebrate such a gruesome anniversary? It had to be the original killer. Had to be.
“See?” Gus said quietly, switching off the television once the segment had ended. “You know as well as I do that this has to be the same person who killed Brenda Green. Why else would they kill again at the same location, on the same date? More proof I didn’t do it.”
While Mac agreed, he had to wonder about the timing. Ten long years had passed since a killing. If it had been the same person, what had been the reason for the huge gap? Now Gus had returned to Legacy and immediately another girl got murdered? It sure sounded like someone was trying to set Gus up.
But why? For what reason? It might have worked, too, except whoever it was had no idea how fast the illness had marched through Gus’s body.
“Now you have even more incentive to find out who the real killer is,” Gus continued. “Not just to clear my name, but to make sure no other young girl suffers a horrible fate.” The older man’s eyes glistened.
“I’m sure the police will be working hard to solve the case,” Mac said.
“Right. Like they did ten years ago? No. They didn’t find the right man then, and I doubt they will now.”
Gus swiped his hand across his face and shook his head. “The hell I’ve been through. While I know it’s nothing like what the Greens suffered, knowing everyone believes you’re a monster is its own kind of torture. Not to mention rotting in prison for something I didn’t do.”
Not sure what to say, Mac squeezed his father’s shoulder. “Now how about that breakfast? Or do you need to use the restroom first?”
“Already been.” He sounded like a little kid who’d pulled a fast one. Since he wasn’t supposed to try to walk unassisted, in a way he had.
Mac had already lectured him on this the day before, so he decided to let it pass this time. “Then I guess I need to bring you some food.”
“Okay,” Gus said, grimacing. “To be honest with you, I’m not sure how much I can eat.”
“I made oatmeal. Your favorite. At least you can try.”
“That I can do. I sure wish I could have coffee, though.”
“I’ll make you some decaf.”
After putting everything on a tray, Mac carried it in and placed it in front of his dad. He pulled up a chair next to the bed, figuring he could make conversation while getting a look at how much his dad managed to eat.
To his surprise, Gus ate most of the oatmeal. He drank all the juice and took a few sips of the decaf coffee before proclaiming himself done.
“You did great,” Mac said, pleased.
“Thanks. Now, how about you help me make it to the bathroom? I want to take a shower.”
Mac had installed handrails in the master bedroom shower. Luckily, it was a walk-in, so Gus had no problem getting in or out.
After Gus had showered and dried off, Mac helped him dress and took his arm to lead him back to bed. Gus tired easily these days, and they’d discovered early on it was better to let him stay in the bed rather than a chair. One incident of him sliding down the floor and being unable to get up had proved that.
Settled back against his pillow, Gus proclaimed himself comfortable. Mac asked him if he needed anything. He’d planned to do more repair work on the exterior of the house. Checking on Gus every thirty minutes, of course.
“Sit and talk awhile.” Gus jerked his chin to indicate the chair next to the bed. “I won’t take much of your time.” He grinned as he glanced at the clock. “My game show comes on in ten minutes.”
Smiling back, Mac took a seat. He treasured this time with his father and was grateful to have it. It almost made up for the ten years lost—almost, but not reall
y.
“So tell me, have you seen her yet?” Gus asked.
Even though they both knew who he meant, Mac considered feigning ignorance just to tease. But in the end, he simply nodded. “I have.”
“How is she? Still as pretty?”
Mac sighed. “Even more so. She didn’t really want to talk, to put it mildly. I let her know we were back in town, and that was about it.”
“I’m sorry, son.” Gus reached up and squeezed Mac’s arm. “I know how much you loved her.”
Loved. Past tense. Sometimes Mac wished that’s where his feelings could stay. But to hope such a thing was foolish. One glance at Hailey and he’d known that.
“Still do,” he confessed. “I’m hoping to get a second chance with her.”
“Glad to hear it.” Gus studied him, his gaze sharp as ever. “But don’t just hope. Act. Good things only come to those who work hard to get them.”
Hearing his father repeat the old adage Mac had heard growing up made him grin. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Now I’d better get to work. And you’ve got your game show to watch.”
Nodding, Gus clicked on the TV. Even as the opening music came on, his eyes were already drifting closed.
Getting up and moving quietly away, Mac left him alone to rest. He removed and replaced three back window screens before heading inside to check on his father. He found Gus sound asleep, the television still on.
Next up, Mac wanted to fix a leaky pipe under the sink in the guest bathroom. He spent the next several hours repairing small things, checking them off a long list he’d made.
Come lunchtime, Mac made a couple of sandwiches. He fixed both him and his dad identical plates, chips and a large dill pickle for both of them. After pouring two glasses of iced tea, he carried everything into the living room and loudly cleared his throat.
Startled, Gus opened his eyes and sat up. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing much. Just brought us a little lunch.”
Side by side, they ate. Once again, Gus pleasantly surprised Mac with his appetite. “You’re really eating well today,” Mac told him. He’d noticed some days were better than others.
The Texan's Return Page 2
