“That should buy us a day or two,” he said. “Giving me time to get to the D.A.’s office. If we’re lucky, Jameson will end up in a jail cell next to Haines.”
“What about you?” I asked. “Can’t they arrest you for what you did?”
Douglas nodded. “They can, and they might. But I’m beyond caring about that right now. I meant what I said—I will go down if that means those two will pay for the things they’ve done, and it keeps you kids safe. I’m only sorry I didn’t do it sooner.” Turning to Tate, he sighed. “Come on, son. Your mother’s going to wonder what’s going on, and I’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”
Just as they moved to walk past us, Dad extended a hand out to Douglas. “I can’t pretend to approve of the things you’ve done,” he said. “But I can admire a man who works to fix his mistakes. Thank you, Mr. Baldwin.”
“Call me Douglas,” he replied, shaking Dad’s hand.
“Then you’ll call me Nate,” Dad replied.
Douglas nodded and smiled. “Nate, if I were you, I’d keep Bellamy close over the next week or so. If you’d like, I can have the D.A. contact the police chief about setting a protection detail around your home and business. He’ll know which officers can be trusted. Canton is more likely to retaliate against me for what just happened, but we can’t be too careful here.”
Dad draped an arm around my shoulders. “We’ll be fine, thanks. You aren’t the only one who owns a shotgun.”
Turning me, he began leading me back toward the car. Glancing back over my shoulder, I waved good-bye to Tate. He watched me solemnly, his brows furrowed, mouth pinched tight. I wanted to run back and throw my arms around him. The next few days would not be easy for him, as he and his family would be forced to confront the reality that Douglas could face a prison sentence. But I could do nothing but get back in the car, glancing back at him in the mirror as we drove away.
I was shaken awake, pulled abruptly out of a sound sleep by Dad’s heavy hand on my shoulder.
“Bellamy! Wake up, munchkin. You have to see this!”
“Hmm?” I mumbled, eyes still closed. “What time is it?”
“Six-thirty,” he replied, giving me another shake. “I know it’s early, but it’s been all over the news for the past half hour!”
Rubbing my eyes, I shook my head, trying to throw off the last remnants of sleep. “What’s on the news?”
“Canton Haines has been arrested.”
That woke me up. I shot upright in bed, and then came to my feet. Dad grabbed my hand and pulled me through the door toward the living room.
“Come on,” he huffed impatiently.
Sinking onto the couch, I focused on the television screen as Dad increased the volume. A photo of Canton Haines’ mugshot filled my screen as a reporter spoke.
“For those just joining us this morning, our top story is quite a shocker. Former Wellhollow Springs mayor, Canton Haines, was arrested late last night, being taken into custody by local police at his home. According to the chief of police, an arrest warrant was issued for Haines after evidence of a crime was brought to light by an anonymous source. Haines is scheduled to be arraigned later this morning, while both the police chief and Young County district attorney’s office have remained tight-lipped on the charges being brought against the former mayor. A press conference has been scheduled for after the arraignment, during which the chief of police and district attorney have promised to give more details to the public regarding the arrest. While the family of Canton Haines—his wife of forty years and daughter, our current mayor, Felicia Haines—declined to comment, they do maintain that he is innocent of any crime.”
Turning to look at Dad, I felt my jaw dropping. “Wow. Mr. Baldwin works fast. It’s only been three days since he told us he would go to the D.A.”
Nodding, Dad shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. An early riser, he seemed to have been up and dressed for at least an hour.
“I can imagine that once the district attorney got a hold of all the evidence you and Tate gathered, she wanted to act quickly before anyone else got hurt. It’s good to know that the police chief hasn’t been corrupted like so many other people in this town. It’s kind of scary to think about how many of them might be in league with Haines.”
Standing, I stretched and groaned as my muscles began to wake up. “I wonder how long it’ll be before they go after the others?”
Dad shrugged. “It’s only a matter of time, I suppose. For now, they’ve cut the head off the snake, and with him in jail, we should all be much safer.”
Nodding, I trudged to the kitchen. “I hope so. Coffee?”
“Sure,” he replied. “Hey, don’t forget your gown for the ball should arrive today. Make sure you schedule your hair appointment, too.”
Smiling, I placed a new filter in the coffee pot and began spooning the grounds in. “I don’t need my hair done, Dad. I can do it myself. You should save the money.”
Coming up behind me, he grasped my shoulders and gave me a little shake. “Don’t argue with me, just make the appointment. This might be your last Founder’s Day ball. This time next year, you’ll be getting ready to go off to college and might not have time for it. Just humor me.”
Starting the coffee, I turned to face him. “Okay, fine. I’ll make the appointment.”
“Good,” he replied with a nod. “I’ll start breakfast, and then I need to get you to work. Do you mind if I drop you off a bit early? I need to make a bank run before we open.”
“No problem,” I said.
Actually, being early would give me a chance to talk to Tate about what I’d just seen on the news. I wondered what it might mean for Mr. Baldwin, since I assumed he’d told the district attorney about his part in Canton’s crime.
I found out once I’d arrived at Baldwin House an hour later to find Tate sitting in Ezra’s office. The door hung open, and I could see that Ezra looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, while Tate looked like he was about to puke.
“Hey, what’s going on?” I asked, stepping into the room. “Have you guys seen the news about Canton?”
Ezra nodded. “It’s all the local news is talking about—and now it’s also made the Atlanta news. He’s being arraigned in an hour. Another warrant has been issued for Jameson Whitlock, but he’s left town. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before they track him down. But there’s something else…”
I glanced over at Tate, who ran a shaking hand through his hair. “They issued an arrest warrant for Dad. They’ll probably be picking him up within a few hours. The police chief called to warn him as a courtesy… not that they owe him one. He asked them to pick him up from the office, so Max and Emma don’t have to watch it go down.”
Sinking into the chair beside Tate, I reached out for his hand. He latched on to me, his grip a bit tight. I traced the lines of his face with my gaze and found a confused muddle of anger and sadness there. I couldn’t imagine how hard it must be to know his father deserved this, but also be hurt by watching the consequences unfold.
“Well, he only helped cover up a crime,” I ventured, trying to look on the bright side. “Maybe he can get one of those plea deals or something.”
“That’s the hope,” Ezra replied, leaning back in his wheelchair. “Douglas was a witness to the murder, can point out Cantons’ accomplices who helped clean up the crime scene, and he was the one who brought all the other evidence to them. They’ll take that into account. If he pleads guilty to the charges, maybe he’ll get a softer sentence in exchange for testifying against Haines.”
For a while after that, we simply sat in silence, avoiding looking at each other. Suddenly, Tate glanced up at Ezra.
“Did you know?” he asked. His tone wasn’t accusing, simply curious.
Ezra shook his head. “I had no idea. He only told me after that visit from Jameson Whitlock. I was, to say the least, shocked.”
“Hmm,” Tate mumbled. “And here I thought Dad relied on you for everything
.”
“Apparently, this is one thing he wanted to keep close to the chest,” he replied. “Listen, you two can’t spend all day moping around in my office. Things are set in motion that we can’t stop or change. I know it’s hard, but you need to go on about your day. I’ll let you know if there are any new developments.”
Glancing at the clock set on Ezra’s desk, I realized it was time for me to get in the kitchen. If Faith hadn’t left for work yet, she would be gone soon. With Douglas headed to jail, she was going to have to step in and fulfill his duties.
“How is your mom holding up?” I asked as we left Ezra’s office, closing the door behind us.
Tate paused just outside the kitchen, shaking his head as he turned to face me. “She’s hanging in there, but she’s obviously hurt… angry with my dad for what he did, and for hiding it from her. I can tell she’s trying to be strong for Max and Emma, but this is hard on her.”
Reaching out to take his hands, I pulled him closer to me, and then wrapped my arms around his waist. “And what about you? How are you?”
Sighing, he hugged me back, resting his head on top of mine. “I don’t know, Bell. I can’t say how I feel. I’m relieved this is going to be over soon, and that you’re not in danger anymore. But I don’t know how I feel about being happy that the ghosts could leave and finally end the hell I’ve been going through for the past two years, but it could cost my dad years of his life in jail.”
“I know,” I assured him. “But your dad made his choices, now he has to make amends. We have to be responsible for our actions, Tate… all of us.”
Glancing down at me, he nodded. “You’re right. Watching him step up to take responsibility for what he did… it made me realize that I still have some things I need to do to make up for my past.”
“What things?” I asked. “You’ve come so far, Tate. You can’t keep beating yourself up for what you did in the past. You’ve moved beyond it.”
“No,” he insisted. “There’s still one thing I can’t move on from. Not until I make it right with the person I hurt.”
“You mean Lindsay,” I said.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “I heard she’s in town visiting her parents. I’m going over there today. Would you come with me? I know I need to do this, but I can’t… I don’t know how…”
Cutting him off with a kiss, I smiled. “I understand. I’ll have to call my dad and see if he’ll let me. I’m still grounded, you know.”
Disengaging from my hold, he grabbed my hand and continued leading me toward the kitchen. “Tell him I’ll bring you straight home after.”
I made the phone call quickly while Tate joined the kids at the table for breakfast. After assuring Dad that it was important and not a date, he reluctantly agreed, as long as I was home within an hour after getting off work. I sat at the table with Tate and the kids, my hopes high for both him and his dad.
The day passed with aching slowness, each hour that went by without an update concerning Douglas was excruciating. Ezra did emerge from his office once to inform us that Canton Haines had plead not guilty to one count of first-degree murder, several counts of conspiracy, grand larceny, and embezzlement of federal funds. It would seem the prosecutor intended to throw the book at him, insuring he never saw the light of day again if he was convicted of even a few of the charges. The judge had set his bail at an amount so high even he couldn’t afford it, which meant he would stay behind bars until his trial, giving me no end of relief. If he wasn’t free to roam town, that meant he couldn’t continue sending his thug, Jameson Whitlock, after us. The news had mentioned that more arrests would be made to include his accomplices. I took that to mean both Jameson and Douglas, and hopefully anyone else who had been a part of the embezzlement schemes.
Tate seemed worried over how things would go once it was revealed that his father had been arrested in connection to Canton’s crimes. But, to his credit, he threw himself into helping me keep the kids busy. They still had no idea what was going on, and I wondered when their mother intended to tell them. I didn’t know how one might go about explaining something like this to an eight and five-year-old.
When the end of the workday came for me, we stopped by Ezra’s office for another update, learning that Mr. Baldwin had been taken into custody by the local police. All we could do now was wait for his arraignment.
Borrowing his father’s car, Tate drove us into town toward the house where Lindsay had grown up. We made the trip in silence, our hands entwined and resting between our seats. Tate’s face was fixed into a stoic expression—much like the one his father often wore—leaving me wondering what he could be thinking. Was he more worried about Douglas, or the impending confrontation with Lindsay? I gave his hand a tight squeeze, and then smiled when he glanced over at me, hoping to reassure him that I had his back no matter what. He silently raised my hand to his lips and kissed it in response.
We arrived at Lindsay’s house after what had felt like forever, stepping out onto the curb in front of a house that looked a lot like mine. Small, one story, with a high porch and screen door. A tire swing hung from a large tree in the front yard. Tate clung to my hand as we walked up the front steps, holding on so tight that our knuckles pressed together painfully. I didn’t pull away, but he must have sensed my discomfort because he loosened his grip before ringing the doorbell.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “I’m just nervous.”
“It’s okay,” I replied. “We got this far. All you have to do now is ring the bell.”
“What am I supposed to say to her?” Tate replied. “I’m sorry doesn’t feel like enough.”
“Just be honest with her,” I urged him. “And you’d be surprised how far ‘I’m sorry’ will go in helping someone else heal. Ring the bell.”
Nodding, he wiped his free hand against the leg of his shorts, and then reached up to ring the doorbell. A moment later, a short, slender man with a receding hairline and kind blue eyes answered the door.
“May I help…” He fell silent as he swung open the screen door and recognized Tate. “What the hell are you doing here?”
His tone had changed from friendly to venomous in the span of a few seconds. Even the eyes I’d thought were kind became cold. To Tate’s credit, he didn’t falter in the face of the man’s anger.
“I’m sorry to be a bother, sir, but I was wondering if Lindsay was here?” he said.
“No,” the man snapped. “Absolutely not. Haven’t you and your friends done enough? Lindsay has moved on, and she doesn’t need—”
“Please, Mr. Cunningham,” Tate pleaded. “I just want the chance to apologize to her in person.”
Mr. Cunningham scoffed. “Apologize? You’re about two years too late on that one.” He turned his gaze on me, and he became his friendly self again. “Young lady, I don’t know what you’re doing with this boy, but my advice to you is to run for the hills.”
Tate’s jaw tightened, and I could tell he was becoming frustrated. Before he could open his mouth to reply, a girl with dirty-blonde hair and the same blue eyes as her father appeared in the doorway.
“Daddy, what’s going… on?” she stammered, eyes growing wide when she realized who stood on the porch. “Tate?”
The tips of his ears and back of his neck flushed as he looked down at his shoes, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah, it’s me.”
“I told him he needs to leave,” Lindsay’s dad insisted, holding out an arm to keep her from stepping out on the porch.
“It’s okay,” she insisted. “Go back inside, Daddy. I’ve got it.”
Turning a concerned gaze on his daughter, he lowered his arm. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Yes. I’ll be fine.”
Shooting a murderous glance in Tate’s direction, Mr. Cunningham reluctantly retreated back inside. Lindsay stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind her and gesturing toward the patio furniture situated at the corner of the porch on our left.
“We can talk out here,” sh
e said.
“This is my girlfriend, Bellamy,” he said, gesturing toward me.
“Hi,” I said with a smile.
“Nice to meet you,” she replied.
She sat first, in a wicker chair sporting blue cushions, then Tate and I sat beside each other on a small bench that matched. A wicker table separated us, arranged with a vase of fresh flowers.
“What do you want, Tate?” she asked, folding her hands in her lap.
The girl in front of me had changed a lot since graduating and going off to college. She appeared far more confident, but with the same quiet intelligence she’d always had. She’d cut her hair, getting rid of the mousy curtain and exchanging it for a layered bob that framed her face and caused her cheekbones to show to their advantage.
Clearing his throat, Tate leaned forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees. “I realize it’s been a long time, and you’ve moved on. But when I heard you were in town, I wanted to come by and do what I should have done a long time ago. I owe you an apology for what happened at homecoming. I’ve regretted it every day since.”
For a moment, Lindsay was silent, observing Tate with shrewd eyes. As he always did when people stared at him, Tate looked away, presenting only the unflawed side of his face. I placed a hand on his knee, reminding him he didn’t have to do that. If people didn’t want to see his face, they shouldn’t look. It wasn’t on him to make them more comfortable. But then, Lindsay’s gaze was simply curious—not disgusted or pitying.
“I can appreciate that,” she replied slowly, as if thinking over every word. “The truth is, I could see what was happening. Lincoln and your other friends roped you into bringing me, and they sprung that prank on us when we arrived. I always placed the blame for the whole tiara stunt on him, not you. If you hadn’t disappeared after that, I might have been able to tell you so in person.”
Tate shook his head. “That doesn’t excuse my part in it. And my disappearing was kind of necessary.”
“No, it doesn’t excuse you,” she agreed. “Sucks having everyone stare at you, doesn’t it?”
Bellamy and the Brute Page 29
