Landon sat back down, waiting for the crowd to clear out of the gym. A few people paused to look up at him as they walked out or stood, chatting with friends.
So why had he come here? It was like Gina’s presence had caused him to stretch the boundaries of his life. Two months ago, there had been Boomer and Ricardo, his work for the senator’s office. The volleyball league and the Twilight Pub. But she made him look at his life differently. Like the borders were different. Like there were different possibilities.
But that didn’t mean he needed to disrupt Tim’s life. Like Landon at that age, the poor kid probably just wanted to be left alone.
But how long did he have before Patti McIntire, or any other person in town, told Tim that Landon had been here today?
If Cyrus Alexander really was innocent, then Landon had already messed this kid’s life up about as bad as anyone could. Had Patti been right? Had Landon really come here because he wanted to meet Tim?
He stood and clambered down the metal bleacher before he had to think about that too much.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Gina tried to concentrate on the guy serving the volleyball on the other side of the net, but she hadn’t been able to think of anything other than Landon in the few minutes since he’d walked into the gym. She’d known from the league schedule that his team had the game after hers, but she hadn’t expected to feel like a confused teenager when he arrived.
The ball sailed over the net. Gina cupped her hands to come under it with a dig—a move she’d made thousands of times over the last few years. What should have been a perfect set for her teammate to spike over the net instead glanced off her fingertips with a flat thud. Game point for the other team. She looked straight ahead, rotated one position, and got ready for the next serve. She didn’t want to see her teammates’ surprised looks at her screwup. And she certainly didn’t want Landon to know how much his presence bothered her.
The next serve blooped over the net. Gina dove, raising it with a one-handed hit to save it from landing on the floor. That was the level of play they expected from her—and that she expected from herself. She rolled into a standing position just as her teammate’s spike bounced out of the net. The other team cheered and traded high fives. Gina’s team grumbled. But she’d played Division I volleyball. And this was a recreational league. The loss meant far less to her than Landon waiting on the sidelines.
She raised a hand to acknowledge him and walked nervously to the row of folding chairs where her gym bag sat. She tugged her kneepads down to her ankles and gathered the bag, ready to go.
A pair of big hands came to rest on the back of the folding chair. “Mind if I follow you out?”
She jumped. She’d assumed Landon was out on the court, warming up with his team for the next game. “You don’t have to . . . ?” She jabbed a thumb to indicate his teammates behind her.
“I don’t need to do any drills.” He grinned. “I’m already the best player on the team.”
She chuckled and headed toward the door of the gym. Once they got outside, he gently grasped her wrist and pulled her around the corner, out of the path of the players who’d just finished their game and were headed to their cars.
“So what have you been up to?” he asked as he leaned against the brick exterior of the building.
She shrugged. “Work, mainly.” She wanted to scream I have two more weeks here. But she had more pride than that. If he didn’t feel the same magnetic pull that she felt, then he wasn’t going to develop it during her last few days in town.
“Any new developments in the case?” he asked.
She shook her head. She’d already decided she wasn’t going to get his hopes up on anything having to do with the case until they were dead sure about it. And while Maggie Buchanan’s information was a substantial new twist, it wasn’t something Gina was willing to share with him. Not yet, anyway.
“Did you figure out if it was the sawmill I heard?”
“We’re working on it.” She hated to withhold what she knew about Seth Rowling having been next door at the time of the murder, but this summer had taught her to keep her personal and professional lives completely separate. And she wasn’t going to risk hurting Landon again.
He reached up and pulled on the front of her jersey, beckoning her toward him. She took a tentative step. And then another. His masculine scent made her want to move even closer.
“I’ve missed you.” His voice was tender, almost reverent.
She smiled, but for some reason she had to fight back tears. For God’s sake—she wasn’t a crier. Well, except when she got mad, but she wasn’t angry now.
Was he really getting to her so much that she couldn’t even be near him without being overwhelmed with emotion?
“I’ve got to drive to Orlando after the game tonight.” He raised his hand to stroke her jaw with his fingertips. “The senator’s got an all-day event down there tomorrow. They all drove down earlier today.” He motioned with his head toward the gym. “But we would have been short a player if I hadn’t come.” He rolled his eyes. “And believe it or not, I’m the breakfast speaker at seven a.m.”
“Wow. Tough gig.” She could handle a light conversation. Teasing him was not a problem. It was the relationship part she wasn’t sure about. “Good thing you’re in good shape for such a grueling schedule.” She squeezed one of his biceps. She’d forgotten how hard they were. Last time she’d been this close to them, they were on either side of her head as Landon made love to her. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She wanted to remember everything about him. His touch. His scent. His voice.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he whispered.
She opened her eyes. “Do what?” Her voice was filled with emotion, but she wasn’t going to spill her heart out between them without knowing for sure what he was talking about.
His fingers dipped to run along her collarbone. “There can’t be any secrets between us.”
Like the fact that Seth Rowling had been next door on the day of his mom’s murder? But Landon didn’t know anything about that. Was he talking about the file notes he’d seen on the table in her breakfast nook? That seemed like eons ago. She needed to slow down her reaction until she could think straight.
“Maybe we should talk about this when you’re back from Orlando,” she said. Yes. She liked that idea. That would mean she’d get to see him at least one more time before she left Tallahassee.
He leaned toward her, his cheek brushing hers. “I’ve got to get inside for my game.”
The intimacy of his breath on her neck gave her chills. When he stepped away from her, she wanted to reach out and pull him back.
“I’ll text you when I know for sure when I’ll be back in town,” he said.
She nodded, and he disappeared around the corner. She heard the heavy metal door to the gym open and close. He was gone.
She slouched against the brick wall of the building. She hadn’t expected that tonight.
He’d missed her.
She reached up to where his cheek had touched hers, as if he might still be there.
But a sudden thought stopped her dreamy reaction. If he really did miss her, then why hadn’t he called for days? Why hadn’t he given her an opportunity to explain the file notes he’d seen at her house?
And how was she going to keep from feeling guilty about hiding another important fact from him?
Last night’s conversation with Landon at the gym was pretty much all Gina had thought about for most of the morning, but at least now it was lunchtime. Maybe she’d go for a walk down to the park and back after she ate so she could clear her mind.
She pulled her lunch box from underneath her desk and unzipped it. Today’s lunch—store-bought chicken salad and some carrot sticks—was the same as yesterday’s lunch. And lunch from the day before that. But Suzanne—always a frugal
one—brought her lunch every day, so Gina had learned to shop at the grocery store for things she could bring to work.
Suzanne’s office door burst open. The strap of her worn leather messenger bag crisscrossed her body. “Pack that back up and bring it with you.”
Gina complied, stuffing the contents back into the plastic lunch box. “Where are we going?”
“Pensacola.”
“Right now?” That was a three-hour drive. Six hours round-trip. To get there and back would mean they’d be gone well into the evening. That was fine with Gina, just . . . unprecedented since she’d worked at Morgan’s Ladder.
“Yes, Pensacola. Right now.” Suzanne armed the security system using the panel near the front door. “Come on.”
Gina grabbed her purse and scampered to the door, knowing she had only thirty seconds before the system was set. “Why are we going there?”
Both women stepped out onto the sidewalk, and Suzanne pulled the door shut behind them.
She turned to Gina, a solemn look on her face. “Maggie Buchanan has something she wants to show us.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Suzanne’s old Audi pulled into the driveway of Maggie Buchanan’s run-down cottage, and again, Gina was reminded of how the woman inside didn’t match the character of the house. “Maggie seems so . . . put together,” she said. “And the house isn’t.” The white paint faded to gray in some spots, peeled at the corners, and the front porch drooped on one end.
“When you live with an abuser, it’s often about hiding the truth.” Suzanne turned the car off and opened her door. “As long as the people at work or at church or wherever don’t suspect anything or say anything outright, then a woman can go on not admitting how bad it is, but it seeps out in other ways.”
Gina was eager to go inside, to see what it was that Maggie Buchanan wanted to show them, but the dichotomy between the woman’s public life and private life intrigued her. “What did Seth do for a living?” The psychology of an abused woman was foreign to her. Did Maggie pour all their money into tailored clothes and expensive manicures?
Suzanne twisted toward the backseat to get her messenger bag. “I’m not sure he ever really had a profession. My guess is Maggie made most of the money.”
Gina knew that Maggie had been a branch manager at a locally owned bank and held a board position on the Pensacola Chamber of Commerce. But thinking about what made a woman put up with abuse was something she’d consider at another time. For now, she wanted to get inside to see what Maggie Buchanan had to show them.
Maggie stepped out onto the front porch as Gina and Suzanne approached. She looked more haggard than before. It was more than just her attire—her tailored pants had been replaced by trim-fitting jeans, and she wore a knit top instead of a crisply starched oxford. Rather, it was the gaunt look of her face. Dark circles rimmed her eyes, making them seem sunken into her head. Her lips pinched more tightly than before. Her hair—neatly coiffed when they’d met the first time—was pulled back into a messy ponytail.
“Your questions the other day got me thinking.” Maggie skipped any pleasantries as Gina and Suzanne climbed the few steps to her front porch.
“About . . . ?” Suzanne asked.
Maggie looked up and down the desolate road, as if she didn’t want anyone else to know her visitors were here. “Please, come in.”
She turned to face them as soon as all three were inside the living room. “I thought Seth left early that weekend because I couldn’t have sex with him. I thought he was mad about that.”
Gina’s pulse quickened. She ran her palms down the front of her navy dress pants. Suzanne leaned toward the other woman.
“But I got to thinking,” Maggie continued. “After you all were here. What if he murdered Barbara Landon?” Her eyes grew larger. “What if that’s why he left so quickly?” She paced to the other side of the room. “I mean, I thought his behavior was a little odd, but he’d just slapped me that morning. I was happy to see him go.”
Suzanne was apparently as eager as Gina to know what Maggie had found. “You said you had something to show us.”
“Yes.” Maggie seemed distant. Like her body was here, but her mind wanted to take her elsewhere. Someplace far away. Her hand rose slowly as she pointed down the hallway of the old farmhouse. “In the attic.”
Suzanne pulled two pairs of latex gloves from her messenger bag, then dropped it on the floor. She had come prepared for evidence. “Can we go look at it?”
Maggie nodded slowly but didn’t move.
“You’ll take us there now?” Adrenaline rushed through Gina’s body.
Maggie blinked and shook her head as if waking from a slumber. “Yes. This way.”
She led them down the hallway to a doorway tucked beyond the last bedroom. She opened the door to a set of narrow, winding steps leading to the attic. Though it looked like she was poised to lead them upstairs, she hesitated. She took a deep breath. Then another.
Gina’s heart raced as she willed Maggie to hurry. Yes, it could be because it was Gina’s first time actually helping to build the case to set a man free, but this was also Landon’s life. Today could mean the difference between Landon knowing who killed his mother and not knowing. It could mean he might learn his testimony had helped send an innocent man to prison. She knew how that felt. And she knew she’d never get over it.
Finally, Maggie placed her foot on the first step, then stopped. Suzanne bumped into Gina and Gina almost ran into the back of Maggie as the somber procession came to an abrupt halt.
“We need to go up there, Maggie,” Suzanne said from behind Gina. “I know this is difficult.”
Maggie hung her head, but then took another step up. And another.
Gina followed her. Her heart raced. Her legs felt shakier than when she’d run that half marathon in college. She had to concentrate in order to put one foot in front of the other. Thank God there was a wall to hold on to. It felt warm on her fingertips. Though she’d been invited, she felt like a burglar. An intruder who had no idea what secrets lay ahead of her. She hoped to God whatever Maggie had found would help determine the truth. Something that would help Landon find the peace he deserved.
The air inside the attic got hotter and staler as they climbed. When they finally reached the top of the stairs, Maggie pulled a yellowed string to turn on a bare light bulb above their heads. She turned to face Gina and Suzanne. “There were some boxes up here that were taped shut. Seth had told me they were none of my business and told me to stay away from them. But after your visit the other day, I”—Maggie looked down to the floor—“I decided to look inside.” She raised her head. A single tear trickled down one cheek.
Suzanne slipped on a pair of the latex gloves and handed the other pair to Gina before walking over to two copy-paper boxes. Wide tape that had once been clear but was now a sickly yellow color wound around both ends of each. Beside them, a pair of kitchen shears lay on the attic floor.
“Are those the boxes?” Suzanne’s voice was quiet, almost reverent. As if she knew the importance of this moment to Maggie. And to Cyrus. And to Landon.
Maggie nodded.
Gina rushed over to the boxes and peered inside as she slid on her gloves. She lifted out each item and held each up for Suzanne to see.
A couple of high school yearbooks.
A family Bible.
A framed cross-stitch sampler with the words Harold and Elizabeth, March 8, 1957.
“Seth’s parents,” Maggie said. “That hung at their house. Their wedding date.”
Next, there were two black-and-white pictures and a color photograph. The color picture showed a high school track team, posed in rows for what looked like a yearbook photograph. The other two showed a tall, gangly teenager with white-blond hair. In each, he was skateboarding.
“This is Seth?” Gina asked, holding up one of t
he black-and-whites.
Maggie nodded.
Gina held up the picture for Suzanne to see. The two exchanged a grim glance. He could have been Cyrus Alexander’s twin.
Gina set the pictures aside and reached into the box again. The last item, nestled in the bottom, among packing peanuts, was a tattered envelope. The kind they’d used when she’d worked one summer in the administrative offices at the hospital her father managed. The kind that would hold an 8½" x 11" sheet of paper and that was used to send things interoffice, with the little button and string on the back to keep it closed en route to its destination.
Slowly, she unwound the string from the button.
A weak whimper escaped from Maggie’s throat.
Gina looked up. Her hand stilled. Maggie’s face was pale and her lip quivered.
“Keep going,” Suzanne instructed.
Gina unwound the string two more times. It pulled free from the button. She felt dizzy. She took a deep breath and let it out.
Finally, she peered inside. Several yellowed newspaper clippings were tucked inside. She pulled the pile of them out and set the envelope on the dusty floor. She gently lowered the fragile newspaper clippings back into the box, then took them out, one by one, and unfolded them.
Each one featured Barbara Landon’s murder.
One from the day of the murder.
Several from the trial.
As soon as she looked at each one, she passed the clippings on to Suzanne.
“Why would he have been so interested in her murder?” Maggie’s voice shook as she watched them.
Suzanne took the last one as Gina handed it to her. “I think we all know the answer to that question.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Gina cringed as she thought of the way Cyrus’s eyes had begged her and Suzanne for help when they’d met with him at the prison. She’d tried to steel herself against their silent plea, knowing that so many people in prison claimed to be innocent.
The Truth About Love Page 22
