by Lee Magner
Anita shuddered and a black look of hatred filled her suffering face.
“I don’t care whether it’s lawful for him to be here,” she exclaimed, glaring at Clare. “It’s wrong. It’s wrong! How can you defend them? How can you? You were Lexie’s friend, Clare. Her friend!” She shot a disdainful look at Case, then directed her fury again at Clare. “Has he seduced you, then? Is that it? Is that why you defend him and rush to tell me I can’t protect my daughter, even in death? He seduced Lexie, you know,” she whispered in bitter, biting tones.
Clare stiffened. She’d heard the rumors back when Lexie had died. Case had never really denied it. He’d just brushed off her questions before they got too direct. She’d given him the benefit of the doubt. But Anita sounded as if she knew for a fact that Lexie had been Case’s lover.
Anita’s anguish and fury were not so blinding that she could not see that she’d scored a point.
“Yes. That’s the kind of man he was then. A man no woman should trust, Clare! He’s dangerous. Very, very dangerous!”
Clare swallowed hard and tried to fight off the doubt Anita had jabbed deep into her heart.
Seamus had reached them, and Case motioned for him to move along toward the parking lot so they could leave quickly.
Naturally, Seamus had ideas of his own.
With dignity and great seriousness, he bowed his head to Anita Clayton.
“I beg your pardon, ma’am, for awakening in yer heart all that pain of long ago. I merely wanted to tell your late daughter that I pray her soul may rest in peace. And that she may find in her heart the generosity to forgive any hurt I may have caused her in life.”
Anita went white in shock, appalled by the man’s gall.
Before she could speak, however, he added with an iron voice, “I swear that I did no harm to her. You have no need to hate me for her death. There is another—someone here in Crawfordsville.. .someone who’s been amongst you for the past fifteen years. It’s that person who killed Lexie, your daughter. ‘Tis he who should hear the wail of your sorrow and feel the pain of your loss.”
Clare stared at Seamus, absolutely compelled to believe him. She’d never in her life heard anyone speak with such a ring of truth in his voice.
Even Anita must have sensed it, Clare thought, because she stopped straining against Clare and stood with uneasy quietness, staring at Seamus with the eyes of one whose beliefs were shaken.
Clare’s gaze met Case’s.
He was in his own pain, she realized. He must hate this kind of public humiliation, she thought. He’d had to endure being the target of scandal all his life. Now, when he’d finally risen above it, become a successful man, living a life of comparative comfort and respect, he was thrust back into this cesspool of murder and distrust and salacious gossip.
But did you sleep with Lexie? she asked him miserably, silently, with her eyes. Did you, Case?
She couldn’t read his answer. He was grim faced. And silent.
And then his gaze shifted to a point over her shoulder.
Clare heard the sounds of men running toward them, of male voices murmuring to one another in outrage. She pulled Anita away from Case and Seamus, and this time Anita made no effort to resist. She simply stared at Seamus, as if trying to understand how it could be true that someone else might have murdered Lexie.
Clare saw Walter Clayton hurl his fist in the direction of Seamus’s jaw just as Case stepped forward and shot out his arm to block it.
Case’s hand closed over Walter’s hairy wrist and Walter went down heavily on one knee as Case forced him back.
Mayor Bonney called out an authoritative order for everyone to remain calm. But the men who’d rushed down the hillside after Walter were all ignoring His Honor, the mayor. They were the leaders of Crawfordsville’s lodges, and the priest and preachers who ministered to the local congregations. Franklin was among them. And so was Peter Lightman and his father, the Reverend Roland Lightman.
The men surrounded Case and Walter. Their growling voices and their angry countenances were very threatening to Clare. She’d never faced a mob. This was about as close as she’d come. And it was terrifying. Even though some of the men were trying to restrain the others, there were several whose fists were clenched and arms drawn back, ready to fall on Seamus and Case like a pack of angry wolves.
“Remain calm!” Mayor Bonney ordered sternly. He was sweating, not just from the heat lingering from the warm late-spring day. The perspiration beading on his forehead came from fear. “Everybody stand back!”
Walter Clayton grimaced in pain as Case inexorably pushed his wrist backward. Case’s eyes glittered dangerously and he lowered his face so he could whisper the words he had to say in a deadly, quiet voice.
“If you raise your fist against me or my father, I’ll break every bone in your hand, one by one. The wrist will be the last to go. Do you hear me, Walter?”
Hatred of the most primitive kind boiled in Walter’s black eyes, but the pain Case was inflicting on his wrist was increasingly agonizing. Walter had no choice. He had never been a man to take physical punishment if he could avoid it. That was for riffraff and people too poor to avoid physical labor, as far as he was concerned.
“Walter?” Case demanded in the same deadly whisper. “Do you understand?”
“Yes!” he hissed furiously. “I understand, you son of a murdering viper,” Walter cried as Case pushed harder, forcing the wrist up against the breaking point, but not quite over it.
“My father did not murder your daughter,” Case said succinctly.
Walter stared at Case in writhing agony.
Clare watched, terrified that Case would be attacked by the others… or that Walter might do something foolish and Case would snap the man’s wrist like a twig. She’d never been so scared in her life. Scared that they would all end up in the hospital … or in jail.
And she’d never seen the hard, merciless raw strength that Case was using against Walter. He knew how to fight, how to master other males. And he had the cold courage to do it.
That, too, frightened her.
Case gradually released the pressure on Walter’s wrist. He kept his eyes on him until he completely let go and had straightened up again. Then he turned his attention to the remaining angry men.
“Does anybody else have something they wish to say?” he asked in a diamond-hard voice. His gaze met each man’s in turn. Each looked away, or blinked, or lowered his fist as their eyes met.
Case backed away and slowly turned toward his father, who was standing not too far away, watching in awe as his son defended him.
“Thank you,” Seamus whispered. There were tears in his eyes. “I thank you, my son.”
Out of nowhere, a rock flew through the air, connecting with Seamus’s head. Case ran to his father and caught him as he fell to the ground. Looking around, he saw a handful of teenage boys running away. He looked back at his father and saw blood running down the side of his face.
“Call an ambulance!” Case shouted, looking for the mayor in the crowd.
Franklin Bonney stepped closer and knelt down on one knee beside Case and Seamus. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding cellular phone, dialed the emergency number and told the operator their location.
Case looked at Franklin. “Thanks.”
Franklin shrugged.
“I try to be prepared for all contingencies,” Franklin said softly. He looked down at Seamus, who was still conscious, but seemed confused. “What was that he was saying just before we got here—something about another person murdering Lexie?”
Case nodded grimly and shifted his father’s weight against his arm.
“Yeah. It seems that there was a major miscarriage of justice here in the wonderful town of Crawfordsville,” Case said bitterly. “It looks like Seamus was framed.”
“Do you believe that?” Franklin asked.
Peter Lightman and his father had joined them. So had the mayor, after waving the othe
r men away and encouraging them to rejoin their wives up on the hill.
Peter and his father listened intently to Franklin’s question and to Case’s reply.
Case didn’t know what he believed. He thought his father was probably innocent, but it was always possible that he had murdered Lexie in a drunken moment that had become a blackout, a blank where no memories survived.
In his heart, he wanted to believe that his father hadn’t done it. He’d seen how the man had changed over the years, trying to turn imprisonment into a penance. He realized now that he was older that much of his frustration and anger toward his father really was based on the toll that alcoholism had taken on his father’s life.
These past few weeks had given him a whole new view of Seamus, and of his whole family.
But was Seamus really innocent?
“Yes,” Case said harshly. “I believe him. And I’m going to try to prove it. Maybe there is some way that his memory can be recovered…” Case frowned thoughtfully. He’d heard of drugs that were used for such things. Maybe it could be done.
Clare had come over to kneel behind Case and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“What happened to Mrs. Clayton?” Case asked.
“She’s taking Walter up to the administration building to put some ice on his wrist.”
She swallowed, remembering how dangerous Case had looked in that confrontation with Walter Clayton. Some of the fear must have shown in her face, because Case’s eyes narrowed.
“Are you afraid of me, Clare?” he whispered.
She stared into his eyes, searching for the passion and the humor and the teasing that she had seen there before. But there was only a hard, cold demand. Are you afraid of me, Clare?
“You are a dangerous man, Case Malloy,” she murmured. “But…”
Before she could say any more, the paramedics arrived.
They were sitting in the waiting room of the hospital in Jefferson, waiting for the results of the brain scan. Seamus had not looked good by the time they’d reached the hospital.
It was close to ten o’clock when the doctor came out with the news.
“There was some concussion. So we’d like to keep him till tomorrow, just to be on the safe side. He’s not that well, and under the circumstances, we think overnight observation would be wise.”
Case, who’d been pacing the floor for half an hour, stood and listened and nodded.
“I agree,” he said. He ran his hands through his black hair. He was tired.
“Come back tomorrow, say around nine-thirty. If he’s all right, he can go home by then, I think.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
As the doctor left, Clare stood and Case turned to face her. They hadn’t talked since arriving at the hospital. Case had come in the ambulance. Clare had followed in her car. While Case had been handling the admissions process, Clare called Luther to let him know what was happening. No one else had come to the hospital. Clare thought that was probably a blessing.
“Would you like to get something to eat?” Clare asked gently.
Case shook his head.
“You’re a kindhearted woman, Clare Browne,” he said with a sigh. “Thanks for sticking around.”
“I don’t do this for just anybody, you know,” she replied with a teasing smile.
“Just stray dogs and disreputable men, huh?” Case suggested dryly.
Clare smiled and looped her arm through his.
“You’ve got to stop thinking of yourself as a stray dog,” she teased.
He laughed and slid his hand down her arm to hold her hand in his.
“It’ll take some practice,” he said. “I’ve been called a son of a bitch for so long, I guess I tend to believe it.’’
She smiled sadly. She couldn’t have said it better herself. Maybe he would let go of these old wounds eventually. The fact that he could joke about it made her think that he probably could.
“Come on, I’ll drive you home,” she said easily.
She led him out of the hospital and into the parking lot.
They didn’t talk on the drive back. Case stared out the window, lost in his own thoughts. Clare didn’t want to start talking about anything serious while she still had to watch the country roads for animals and unexpected potholes.
It was very late when they arrived at Luther’s farmhouse. But he was still up, and he came out to see them when they pulled into the parking area in front of the house.
“How’s Seamus?” Luther asked, standing on his front porch in his pajamas and robe.
Case got out of the car and walked around to the driver’s side as Clare rolled down her window.
“He’s a lucky man, it appears,” Case replied. “They’re keeping him under observation tonight, but it looks like we can get him tomorrow.”
“Damned fools,” Luther muttered. He looked around. “You didn’t happen to see my dog when you drove up here, did you?”
“No, we didn’t,” Case said. “Isn’t he tied up?”
“No. I went lookin’ for him earlier to do that, but I couldn’t find him anywhere. That isn’t like him.”
“Maybe he’s chasing a rabbit,” Case said tiredly. He had enough on his mind for the moment. He wasn’t about to go looking for a dog roaming around on the farm.
“Probably,” Luther muttered. He peered through the windshield. “Is that Clare?”
Case grinned. “Who else would bring me home?”
“Night, Clare,” Luther said. He glanced at Case in amusement. Then he went inside, leaving Case and Clare alone.
Case became grim. “I don’t want you driving back alone to your house,” he said.
Clare stared at him in surprise.
“The hair on the back of my neck is standing up, Clare,” he said. “And I have a rule. When that happens, I watch my back. And the back of anyone on my team. You’ve put yourself on my team in the eyes of this community. I won’t have you harmed because of that.”
Clare’s mouth went dry. Partly because of the deadly seriousness with which he was speaking. Partly because of the intense, possessive way he was looking at her. And not a little bit because up until this minute she hadn’t felt at all threatened by any of the violence.
“I’m going to get in my car and follow you and make sure you get safely home.”
Before she could argue about it, he walked over to his car and turned on the engine.
“All right. Whatever you say,” Clare muttered to herself.
A short time later, he was standing on her porch as she unlocked her front door.
He’d been looking around as they drove up, as if making sure nothing looked amiss.
As she turned to say goodbye, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
Her toes left the ground and she was being held against his chest, as if he owned her and wanted to assure himself that she was safe and whole and knew that she was cared about just that damn much.
He broke off the kiss and let her slide down until her feet were on the ground.
“I would never do anything to hurt you,” he said quietly. “No matter what happens, I want you to believe that.”
He touched her lips once more with his, then he turned her around and pushed her firmly through the doorway into the house.
“Keep your eyes open, Clare,” he said firmly. “Promise?”
She nodded. “You, too,” she whispered unsteadily.
He grinned.
And in that grin she saw the wolfish quality that made him dangerous to anyone who crossed him or threatened him or would hurt those that he cared about.
“Lock the door,” he suggested.
“Drive carefully,” she retorted.
He laughed as he went back to his car.
Let her have the last word, he thought. And let her be safe, he added silently. His own weakness had put her in danger now. He couldn’t stay away from her. It was too late for that. If Seamus was right and someone else here in Crawfordsville had murd
ered Lexie Clayton, they might want to make sure that Seamus never remembered what happened that night, and that Case couldn’t help recover that memory. It had to be obvious to the people who lived here that he and Clare were… friends. And that worried him.
Before, he’d tried to keep away from her so his tarnished reputation wouldn’t damage her.
But now he had to keep an eye on her. Because someone might decide to hurt her because she’d make a more vulnerable target than he would.
“Damn, damn!” he swore. He turned on the ignition and gritted his teeth.
He had to find out what really happened that night when Lexie died. Before someone got seriously hurt.
Or seriously dead.
“Logan?”
There was a sound of cursing muffled by bed covers as Logan picked up the telephone in Illinois.
“Do you know what time it is?” Logan bellowed groggily.
“Exactly one-sixteen in the morning here in Ohio.”
“What the hell do you want?” Then, more calmly, “Say, is Seamus…”
“He’s okay. In the hospital.”
“The hospital!”
“We had a little graveside chat with Lexie’s father and some kids took the opportunity to do a little rock throwing, with Seamus’s head being the target.”
Logan swore. “Is there anything I can do, Case?” he asked sternly. “Want me to send one of our lawyers down there to rattle a few cages?”
“No. But, uh, I’d like to get some of the legal department to do a little work tomorrow.”
“What?”
“I’d like a copy of the transcript of the murder trial.”
“Jeez, I hope they can resurrect it. As I recall, they were having a few problems with records disappearing in that office a few years ago—something about a fire, too.”
“Great,” Case muttered. “Well, anything they can do will be helpful. I want to know everything that’s in the public record on that murder case, and anything that can be dug up that wasn’t made public.”
“You’re in a better position than I am to dig for local gossip and private opinions,” Logan suggested.
