“Hallie, I don’t know if you’ve yet realized it, but…all these malicious things that have been occurring here at the farm…maybe they don’t have anything at all to do with Dandy Don Hatfield wanting to buy the place. Maybe because you’ve come back to Wolf Creek, whoever murdered your mother has figured out you were a witness that afternoon, that that’s why your grandmother so hurriedly packed you off to your great-aunts back East. Maybe the killer still lives in town and fears to be exposed after all this time, so has been attempting to drive you away.”
“Yes,” she agreed slowly. “But, then, who could it be? Surely, in that case, it doesn’t have anything to do with Mr. Hatfield! Oh, I wish I hadn’t been so scared that afternoon, that I’d seen who Mom was quarreling with, that at the very least, I could recall what their argument was about. Because somehow, I think if I remembered that, I would know who murdered her.”
“I know it’s difficult, but try not to dwell on it, Hallie, and perhaps it will come to you,” Aunt Gwen suggested as Hallie and Trace reached the top of the steps. “Oh, dear, I know this hasn’t been anything but positively traumatizing for you.
“Sit down, child, and let me fetch you a glass of that apricot brandy. Trace, you’d better get Sheriff O’Mackey on the phone. Whether he likes it or not, he’s going to have take all these mean incidents here at the farm seriously now—not just write them off as kids’ pranks!”
Eventually, in response to Trace’s call and brief explanation, the sheriff arrived to take Hallie’s statement, as well as to examine the cellar steps and the old bloodstain at its foot.
“I was only a young deputy in those days, but I remember when Rowan died. We didn’t have any reason back then to think it was anything more than the accident your grandmother claimed, Ms. Muldoon. I know she loved you and was only trying to protect you, but she shouldn’t have made you keep quiet about what you saw that day.”
Sheriff O’Mackey’s face expressed his disapproval.
“The trail’s gone cold now. We’re more than twenty years down the road now, and in the meantime—although I can understand why she did it—your grandmother’s remodeled the entire kitchen, destroying any evidence there might have been, and sealed up the cellar, leaving it to go all dank and moldy, to boot!
“I don’t mind telling you folks it’ll be difficult, if not damned nigh impossible, now to find any proof beyond Ms. Muldoon’s word about just exactly what happened that afternoon!”
“Does that mean you’re not even going to investigate this matter, Sheriff?” Trace asked coolly.
“Hell, no. I dated Rowan once or twice when we were teenagers, and I always liked her. So if there’s any justice to be had for her, I’m damned well going to find it. I remember a couple of things, too, from back then,” the sheriff stated. “Like how mad Don Hatfield was, for instance, that Rowan wouldn’t marry him after your daddy ran off, Hallie.
“Maybe that’s the real reason he’s long been after this old farm! Maybe he came here that afternoon, quarreled with your mama, killing her, and has lived in fear ever since that his crime would come to light someday. Maybe he really wants this place so he can cover up any evidence he thinks may still be remaining.”
“Oh, God, I didn’t know that about Mr. Hatfield and Mom. What a hideous thought.”
“Well, it’s the truth,” the sheriff insisted. “Dandy Don had been after her for years. But don’t you worry yourself none about it, because your mama never did give him the time of day. No, there was somebody else she was seeing, I think—although I don’t recollect who it was.
“I mean, she’d waited the seven years necessary to have your daddy declared legally dead, and she was still a young, beautiful woman at the time. So she was entitled to a life of her own and some happiness after that.”
Closing up his spiral-bound notebook, the sheriff sighed heavily.
“I’m sorry I can’t make you folks any promises—except one. I’ll do my best,” he vowed.
“We can’t ask you for any more than that, Ned,” Aunt Gwen said, her weather-beaten face troubled and thoughtful as she closed the front door behind him—only to be compelled to answer the back door a few moments later.
Scarecrow stood outside.
“I saw Sheriff O’Mackey was at Meadowsweet again,” he greeted the elderly lady. “He passed by my place on his way here, and I got worried. Has something else happened?” His eyes widened as he peered inside and observed the destruction in the kitchen.
“Yes, Scarecrow. Come on inside, and we’ll tell you everything.” Aunt Gwen stepped aside to let him pass.
Opening one of the kitchen cupboards, she removed the bottle of apricot brandy and four snifters, pouring the alcohol into the glasses and handing them out as Hallie and Trace explained to Scarecrow everything that had come to pass that day.
For a long minute afterward, he just sat at the kitchen table mutely. Then at last he spoke.
“I—I have a confession to make,” he announced, his voice hoarse with emotion. “And I hope you all don’t hate me for it—because even with all that’s happened, these last several weeks, since Hallie came to Meadowsweet, have been some of the happiest of my entire life.”
“Oh, Scarecrow, please don’t tell me you’re about to say you murdered my mother! I—I don’t believe I could bear that!”
Hallie gazed at him pleadingly, realizing in that moment how much she had come to like and care for the poor disfigured man.
“No, no.” Scarecrow shook his head. “I didn’t kill Rowan. But I—I was here that awful day.”
“What?” she cried, dismayed.
“You see, I—I lied to you, Hallie. My name’s not actually George Chester. I just told you that because I was ashamed to tell you the truth. I know I don’t have any rights at all where you’re concerned—and really, I wouldn’t blame you if you despised me and put me off Meadowsweet at once. But I’m—I’m Liam Muldoon…your daddy, Hallie.”
“What?” she exclaimed again, utterly astounded, not certain she could stand any more shocks today.
“It’s true. I’ve got all the necessary papers to prove it—and letters from your mama, too. Some of what I told you was the truth. I was hospitalized, obviously, and lying there in that hospital bed, with no one to give a damn whether I lived or died, I did come to realize what an inordinately stupid mistake I’d made in abandoning my wife and baby.
“So after I got out of the hospital, I wrote to Rowan, explaining to her how I’d been burned in the warehouse fire and didn’t know if I were going to survive, but that before I died—if the good Lord chose to take me—I wanted her to know how much I’d loved her and you, Hallie, and how sorry I was at making such a real mess of things.
“Much to my surprise—because I sure didn’t expect any reply—Rowan wrote back to me, and before I knew it, we were corresponding, and I was remembering all the reasons why I had fallen in love with her in the first place. Above all, she was a very kind woman, your mama was, and even though I didn’t deserve it, she forgave me for everything and asked me if I wanted to come home.”
Scarecrow paused, reflecting. Then he continued.
“By then, she’d already had me declared dead, of course. But that wouldn’t have mattered, because I hadn’t had any life-insurance policy or anything like that. I warned her I wasn’t the same man, that I—I looked like monster now. But Rowan said that was all right, that at the very least, I should be a part of your life, Hallie.
“I—I just can’t tell you how horrible it was…finally arriving at Meadowsweet, only to find her lying dead at the foot of the cellar stairs. It was the worst day of my life. I didn’t know what to do. I looked for you, Hallie, but you were nowhere to be found, and then I realized you wouldn’t know who I was, anyway, even if I hadn’t been burned and disfigured.
“I was afraid the authorities would think I had killed Rowan. So I did what I’d always done when faced with hard decisions—I ran away again,” Scarecrow admitted bitterly, cl
early ashamed and riddled with guilt. “Still, I didn’t stay gone long. I had made a promise to myself and to Rowan, and for once, I was determined I was going to keep my word.
“So, after she was buried, I came back, pretending I’d only just arrived in Wolf Creek, and here I’ve been ever since, hoping you’d return one day to Meadowsweet, Hallie.
“Can you—can you ever forgive me, daughter? You don’t have to acknowledge me as your father or anything like that. I can understand if that’s not what you want. But please don’t send me away…just let me come here sometimes to see you still, and let me know if there’s any way I can ever help you, if you ever need anything. I’ve tried to watch over you as best I can since all these bad things started occurring here at the farm….”
“I—I don’t know what to say,” Hallie said. “Truly, I’m stunned by all these revelations. But of course I won’t send you away! You’re my father, and I’ve—I’ve come to care a lot about you over these passing weeks. If Mom could forgive you, I’m sure I can. I’d love to see her letters to you. Will you show them to me sometime?”
“Yes.” Scarecrow nodded humbly. “Yes, I will. Thank you, Hallie. You won’t ever again regret having me for a father, I promise you!”
Chapter 19
The Killer
F or the first time since that first night she had come to Meadowsweet, Hallie was alone at the old farmhouse. Believing the older woman had needed something to take her mind off her worries, she had urged Aunt Gwen to go to lunch with Blanche Winthorpe, and Trace had driven into Wolf Creek to fetch much-needed supplies.
Because she had been going into town, too, he had wanted Hallie to accompany him. But she had told him she did not know how long she was going to be tied up with Simon Winthorpe that morning at the courthouse, where, after one delay after another, the probating of Gram’s last will and testament was finally coming to an end.
So Hallie had driven her own car into Wolf Creek and had only just now arrived back home, glad she was not ever again going to have to bother speaking anything more than a polite greeting to Jenna Overton. The odd, heavyset woman was positively cuckoo! Hallie thought.
Every time Judge Newcombe had addressed Hallie in court today, Jenna had stared daggers at her—despite the fact that by this time, everybody in town knew Hallie was engaged to marry Trace and that, just last weekend, he had presented her with a simple but beautiful diamond engagement ring, which she now wore always on her left hand.
“As though I’d ever be interested in that bald, pointy-headed old Judge Newcombe!” Hallie muttered crossly to herself now. “As though any woman besides Jenna herself would be! Doesn’t she realize she’s more than welcome to him, that nobody else in town has any designs whatsoever on that old goat?”
Taking off the sun hat she invariably wore to please Aunt Gwen, Hallie called out, “Dad? Dad, are you here?”
Ever since learning Scarecrow was really her long-lost father, Hallie no longer addressed him by his childhood nickname. She knew how much it pleased him to hear her call him Dad, and after much reflection, she had decided that whatever wrongs he had done her and her mother in the past, he had more than paid for them, and tried to set matters right. So Hallie did not have it in her heart to hate him.
“Dad?” she called again, wandering through the house, wondering where he was.
He was supposed to come over sometime today, to help her harvest the honey from the beehives, and she had told him that if he arrived at noon, she would fix him lunch.
Glancing at the clock in the kitchen, to which she had returned, Hallie saw it was just now that hour. Maybe her father would arrive in a few minutes. She would get started on lunch and hope he presently showed up. One thing she was certain of—unless he had suffered some unforeseen calamity, he would not stand her up.
Grabbing ham, Swiss cheese, lettuce and mayonnaise from the fridge, Hallie put them on the long farmhouse table at the heart of the room. Then she selected a couple of fresh tomatoes from the vegetable garden from the bowl on the counter, humming cheerfully to herself as she worked. A loaf of freshly baked bread from the bread box was the last thing she needed before preparing the sandwiches.
But when she finally turned back to the table, the bread loaf in hand, Hallie abruptly froze, horrified at the sight that met her suddenly wide, frightened green eyes.
Jenna Overton stood in the kitchen, a peculiar, blank expression on her pudgy, unattractive face.
“What—what are you doing here, Jenna?” Hallie queried slowly, the wheels of her brain churning furiously. “How—how did you get in?”
“I had a key to the back door, of course.” Jenna held up the key ring she had used to gain entry. “I took it off that old scarecrow who now claims to be your father.”
“Dad! Is he all right? What did you do to him?”
“Gave him a crack over the skull, with an old pipe I found in the barn. He’s probably dead now. But you, Rowan…you just won’t die, will you?” the woman went on tonelessly, not even seeming to realize she had confused Hallie with her mother.
Jenna Overton must undoubtedly be insane, Hallie thought, now realizing that the woman was not merely unpleasant, but actually dangerous. She had surely murdered Hallie’s mother.
“I thought I had got rid of you more than twenty years ago, Rowan,” Jenna continued, confirming Hallie’s worst fears. “I warned you to keep away from Billy, didn’t I?”
Ironically, given how much he resembled a goat, “Billy” was Judge Newcombe’s Christian name.
“But you just wouldn’t listen, would you? Oh, you claimed it was somebody else you were secretly involved with and that you hoped to be reunited with him soon. But I knew you were nothing but a liar and a tramp, that it was Billy you had your heart set on, when you knew he was mine.
“Now you’ve come back to Wolf Creek, to try to steal him away from me again! No, don’t bother to deny it! I saw how you looked at him in court this morning! You couldn’t take your eyes off him, could you? Practically drooling over him, you were! Well, I won’t have it, I tell you. So I’ve got to take care of you once more, just as I did before.”
Terrified as the short, overweight, but plainly strong woman started to move toward her, Hallie glanced around wildly for a weapon. She did not think she could safely get around the long farmhouse table to either the library and the gun case, or to the back door.
She was worried sick about her father’s wellbeing, and, at the moment, equally concerned about her own welfare. Her only ray of hope was that Jenna did not appear to possess a weapon either, and at that realization, Hallie was quick to grab a sharp butcher knife from the wooden block on the farmhouse table, brandishing it threateningly.
“You’d better keep away from me!” she warned. “I’m not Rowan! I’m her daughter, Hallie, and I didn’t grow up here, but in a big city back East, where we know how to defend ourselves! I’ll use this if I have to. So please don’t make me hurt you. Just get on out of here, and I’ll forget you ever came here!”
“More lies, as usual. Do you think I’m an idiot? Everyone else in town might fall for your act, Rowan, but I’m wise to your tricks. I’ve seen how you deceive men—leading them on with your pretty blond hair and your emerald-green eyes, twisting them around your little finger and making complete fools out of them! You had so very many. Why couldn’t you leave Billy alone?”
Before Hallie realized what the madwoman intended, Jenna suddenly lunged across the farmhouse table, grabbing hold of Hallie’s wrist and beating it furiously against the edge of the table, forcing her finally to let go of the knife. Then, despite how hard Hallie fought against her, the woman slowly hauled her across the table, jerking her to her feet, then dragging her toward the gaping hole in the kitchen wall, where the cellar stairs waited menacingly.
Desperately, Hallie bit and clawed and kicked her assailant, wondering if Jenna’s beefy hands would strangle her—or break her neck—before throwing her violently down the dark dank ste
ps, just as they had so brutally flung her mother down.
The woman was squeezing Hallie so tightly that she felt as though her rib cage were being crushed, and that all the air was being forced from her lungs. She could not breathe!
Then, just when she thought she was going to pass out from lack of oxygen, Hallie heard a ferocious snarl, and without warning, the great black wolf tore through the screen door, bolting into the kitchen and grabbing hold of Jenna as though she were a plump rag doll from which he meant to devour every last ounce of stuffing.
As Hallie stumbled free, screams erupted from her throat to mingle with those of the other woman, who had been ruthlessly pulled to the floor by the maddened animal and was now being mercilessly savaged by it.
“Oh, God, oh, God,” Hallie moaned, petrified, realizing the immensely powerful beast meant to kill Jenna, perhaps would rip out her jugular vein at any moment.
Then, just when she thought the woman’s crazed, obsessed life had come to a violent end, Hallie heard a high, sharp whistle, and to her everlasting surprise, the massive wolf suddenly fell back as though he had been shot, his muscular haunches still quivering with adrenalin, his keenly attuned ears alert, his throat still growing fiercely.
Much to her relief, Trace stood in the doorway, armed with a stout pipe, along with her father, who sagged weakly against the ripped screen door, blood trickling down his scarred face from the wound on his scalp.
Somehow, Jenna was still alive, lying bloody and groaning on the kitchen floor. When she attempted to rise, Trace snarled at her to be still, sounding as fierce as the wolf and informing her that if she moved, she would get a worse crack upside the skull than she had given Hallie’s poor father.
“Stand guard, Beowulf,” he ordered the wolf, much to Hallie’s surprise and sudden confusion and wonder. Then, turning to her, he directed, “Get the phone and call Sheriff O’Mackey, sweetheart. Tell him the justice due for your mother’s murder is at long last now at hand.”
From the Mists of Wolf Creek Page 16
