These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance

by Hathaway, Mary Jane

He leaned down and put his forehead to hers. She knew she should step back, but instead she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his. He pressed back, his lips warm and urgent. The scruff of his beard scraped against her chin and she reached up to thread her hands through the back of his hair. After a few moments, he broke away as if trying to stop kissing her but not quite able to move back, their breath mingling.

  He tasted like smoke and truth and the end of everything.

  “Henry,” he said.

  Hearing her name seemed to bring her back better than the firemen or Father Tom or the heat of the blaze. Henry. It was the name she’d given herself because she hated the one her mother had given her. She’d wanted a different life for herself, one that didn’t revolve around people who didn’t love or need her. Lorelei was the girl that got left, the girl who didn’t have parents, and the girl who loved more than she was loved. Not Henry.

  She let her hands fall away from his neck and she stepped back, brushing tears from her cheeks with trembling fingers.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” she said.

  Then she turned and walked away.

  ***

  Gideon sat in his car for a long time, simply too tired to get out and walk all the way to his front door. It had been three days since the fire. Three days since Henry had spoken to him. Tom said she needed time, that it had been traumatic to see him running out of a fire, but Gideon didn’t believe it. He knew deep down in the place where he held his darkest secrets that Henry wasn’t meant for someone like him. He should never have hoped for anything more than friendship. Pigs get fed and hogs get eaten. And idiots get their hearts broken.

  Within hours of the blaze, Barney Sandoz had publically accused him of setting the fire even though it made no sense for Gideon to have wanted to burn his own collection. The fire was declared suspicious when the fire chief announced they had found traces of an accelerant in the basement. Gideon tried to explain about the gas lamps he’d used while working. The investigator listened quietly and then asked why he hadn’t brought in an electric light, if there had been an extension cord. Gideon remembered the way the firelight had cast Henry’s face into soft shadows and said nothing.

  He angled out of his car and trudged toward the porch. He hadn’t left the light on and the sliver of moon barely illuminated the shape of the house. He usually came home right after work but he’d ended up wandering along the river with Tom. Neither of them had said much, just walked the trails and fished a little. It was one of the few places that didn’t remind him of her but it didn’t make it any better. In fact, the absence of any trace of her there made his chest ache even more. In the end, he’d driven the old highway, hoping the curves and scenic stretched would be some sort of escape.

  Now it was close to midnight and although he was exhausted, he knew he’d lay awake in bed for most of the night. He unlocked the door and reached for the little lamp on the side table but missed it in the darkness. Moving to the left, he swept his hand back and forth, still not finding the base. He aimed lower, and a fraction of a second later, realized the table was gone, too.

  Gideon stumbled backwards out of the doorway, jumped off the porch, and onto the packed dirt driveway. He stood there, heart pounding, scanning the darkness for attackers. He backed toward the car and quietly opened the trunk, taking out a flashlight. He considered the crowbar for a moment, then left it. If he got into a fight, he didn’t want to kill anyone. Again.

  The house was perfectly silent as he crept back up the stairs. He opened his phone and dialed the emergency number. The operator answered immediately and Gideon said, “Someone’s broken into my house.” He turned on the flash light and shone it at the door. “No, I don’t know if they’re still inside.”

  He walked forward, ignoring the operator’s advice, but gave his address slowly and clearly. He swung the beam of light back and forth, noting the upturned chair, the smashed side table. Standing at the threshold, he reached an arm around the doorframe and hit the main light switch. The room was instantly illuminated but it took a few minutes until for Gideon to understand what he was seeing.

  His furniture was destroyed, pictures off the wall and the table on its side. And there, in the center of the room, Barney Sandoz lay on the carpet. Gideon recognized him right away, even though his eyes were wide and blankly staring. His tongue was black and protruded from between his lips, one arm thrown up over his head as if he were waving at Gideon.

  As he looked at Barney, Gideon saw another face from long ago. A man just as contorted, eyes bulging, neck bruised. The image was burned into his memory and eighteen years could not erase it.

  A tinny sound recalled him to the present. The operator was speaking but Gideon let the phone drop from his ear. The last few days passed through his mind. He saw Sally’s tearful hugs and Vince’s words of forgiveness. He thought of Austin and the wariness in his eyes. He thought of Tom, who had never given up on him, who loved him like a brother and wanted more for him than a life of penance.

  He closed his eyes, taking one more moment before his life changed forever. He thought of Henry laughing up at him, weeping into his shirt, shyly kissing his cheek. He remembered how she bit the top of her pen as she worked and the way the lamplight reflected in her eyes. He could almost smell the rain and the trees, feel the weight of her against him, the warmth of her lips and the softness of her skin.

  And for a breath of ecstasy, give all you have been, or could be.

  He opened his eyes and put the phone back to his ear.

  “I need to report a homicide,” he said.

  ***

  “So, we’ll see you on the twentieth,” Patsy said. “I’ll bring Jack’s costume and we’ll do a dry run for Hallowe’en. You can take a hundred pictures of my beautiful baby and then maybe Denny’s mom can babysit so we can all go out to dinner. Make sure your hunka hunka historian doesn’t have anything happening that weekend, okay?”

  Henry grimaced. “I think it will be just us three, actually.” She stared out her apartment window at the river and braced herself for the questions.

  “Hold up, now. A few days ago, you were a goner for this guy. What happened, Sherlock?”

  She ran a hand through her hair. It was too early to have this conversation, Friday or not. “We just wanted different things.”

  “That makes no sense. Don’t say that like it makes sense.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it off, impatient with herself for crying again. She’d already shed too many tears over Gideon. She couldn’t be with someone who thinks so little of himself, like his life meant nothing. “I don’t want to be with someone who puts me last, who never remembers that I exist.”

  There was a silence on the other end. “Like Kimberly did.”

  “You’re implying I have mother issues.” Henry aimed to sound sarcastic but ended up with wounded.

  “We all have issues. We look for someone who fills whatever hole there is in our hearts. But when they can’t completely fill that need, we see it as a problem with them, not with us.”

  “This isn’t some complicated psychological problem. I don’t love him because I need a…” The rest of her sentence faded away as she realized what she’d said. Her heart felt like it was being crushed. She didn’t want to love Gideon. Not when he wasn’t going to put her before everything else..

  Patsy sighed. “I don’t want this to come between us but can I tell you something as a friend? As someone who has known you the longest in this world?”

  “You will anyway,” Henry said.

  “You’re right, but not because I’m trying to stick my nose in your business. I know how you love your privacy. I’m going to tell you what I think because as long as we’ve been friends, I’ve never seen you look at someone the way I saw you look at Gideon.”

  Henry said nothing, just leaned her forehead against the window, the glass cool against her skin.

  Patsy went on. “And I’ve never seen anyone look at you tha
t way.”

  “So?” She was weary, down to her very bones.

  “So, that kind of something deserves a chance.”

  Henry wiped her eyes and said nothing. She wanted to give them a chance more than anything else in her life.

  “Maybe it’s a problem with him, and not you. The guy was in prison for most of his adult life. He’s lived by himself for years. He’s never had a family. He’s hasn’t had any responsibility to anybody He’s new at this. His first instinct, the one that served him so long may not be the right one.” Henry heard Patsy take a bracing breath. “And your first instinct may not be, either. Your past is dictating your future every single day. You see every relationship through the lens of Kimberly leaving you.”

  Henry tried to speak calmly. “You know how I feel about all your psychology books and personality quizzes. I don’t have the time or energy to sit around and analyze his every action. I know what he did and how it made me feel. That should be enough.”

  “I get that. I do. So, let’s forget about him and talk about you. And not what I think I think is happening in your head. Let’s talk about the way you really are. You wanted more truth in your life, Sherlock, so I’ll give it to you,” Patsy said. “You hold people up to this terrible thing that happened to you, and if you sense even the slightest disloyalty, you’re gone. It’s over.”

  She wanted to hang up the phone but realized how ironic that would be. “You think I’m imagining everything?”

  “I think you’re really smart and are freakishly good at reading people. I also think you’re an expert at keeping yourself from getting hurt. But I don’t think you’re infallible. You still make mistakes. I’m nothing close to how good you are, but what I saw told me there was something about him that was different, something good.”

  Henry closed her eyes. She thought of how she’d been so sure Kimberly had known Lisette wasn’t acting like a mother to her.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll…” She didn’t know what she could do, except go and talk to him. He’d been leaving messages for days. No matter what he said, she was going to have to explain her silence. “I’ll give it another chance.”

  “Wow,” Patsy said, and Henry could hear the smile in her voice. “I don’t think you’ve ever given anybody a second chance before. Times are a-changing.”

  “Don’t get too excited. And I know you’re going to ask, so yes, I’ll call you after I see him,” Henry said.

  “You know me so well,” Patsy said, laughing, and hung up.

  She stood there for a moment. You’ve never given anybody a second chance before. Henry felt her heart drop. She’d always considered herself a fair sort of person. But fair wasn’t playing judge and jury with everyone she met. People made mistakes, including herself.

  She looked out at the river and the pedestrians strolling along the walkway. She’d been preparing to let Gideon apologize but maybe she was the one who was wrong.

  The phone buzzed in her hand and she jumped. Birdie Pascal’s number appeared in the screen. Henry sighed and reached out to send it to voice mail when she thought of Patsy’s words, and answered intead.

  “Morning, mamere,” she said.

  “Lorelei,” Birdie said. “You’ll never guess what happened.”

  “No, ma’am. I probably won’t.” She was already regretting her decision to answer.

  “That murderer you were working with, the big muscled guy. He’s back in jail.”

  Henry shook her head. “Not Gideon Becket. That’s not who you mean.”

  “Yep. He killed a man. They found the body in his house last night. I guess it’s true what they say. Some people never change.”

  “No. I don’t believe it.” She couldn’t hear over the pounding of her heart.

  “Mais, it’s true. Willy Joe Brumbacher told me that he heard he was involved in dealin’ cocaine before he went to prison the first time. Or his family did. Somethin’ like that. I know cocaine was involved in the story.”

  Henry flashed back to the walk in the rain on Mount Driskill. Gideon had shared a dark and painful truth about his parents that day. Henry couldn’t imagine how he would feel if the entire town knew.

  “I’m just glad you didn’t get hurt. Who knows what he would have done to you if he’d gotten a chance,” Birdie said.

  “I was never afraid of him. He never would have hurt me.”

  “You can’t be sure of that, sha. But you won’t have to worry about working with him now, either, because he’s not the director anymore. They fired him this morning.”

  Henry didn’t hear the rest of the details. Birdie went on for a few minutes and then finally hung up. Henry took a few steps, but didn’t know where she was going. Nothing made sense. She hadn’t heard whose body it was. She didn’t even know where Gideon lived. Her stomach lurched. Maybe there was more to his love of privacy than she thought. Maybe that wasn’t the first body he’d dropped there.

  No, she knew one thing. Gideon wasn’t a murderer. Not anymore.

  She dialed Blue’s number and paced the floor until he picked up.

  “Hi, Henry.” She could tell by the somber tone that he’d already heard the news.

  “I need your help,” she said.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “A thirst for truth at any cost is a passion which spares nothing.”

  ― Camus

  “Would you like some coffee?”

  Gideon glanced up at Franklin Reisler and shook his head. The police investigator had been polite but hadn’t made any attempt to hide the fact that Gideon was their number one suspect. He’d asked about having a lawyer present but Gideon had only shrugged. A lawyer wouldn’t change the fact that Barney Sandoz was dead.

  “So, Mr. Becket, let’s talk about scenarios. You don’t have to say anything. I’m just going to throw out the ways this could have happened. Maybe it was an accident, maybe you didn’t mean for it to go that far.”

  “This was no accident,” Gideon said. He knew what kind of force it took to strangle a man barehanded. He knew the fury and ruthlessness it required. The person who had murdered Barney clearly knew about Gideon’s past. He had strangled a man once. Everyone knew it. Gideon’s living room was the perfect place to drop a troublemaker like Barney. And if Gideon’s suspicions were correct, they were taking out two birds with one stone.

  “Is that a confession?” He sat up, putting pen to paper.

  “No.”

  “Listen, we know you two were feuding over that house and then it conveniently burned down. You were in the basement without permission at the time. Witnesses have stated that you threatened Barney Sandoz just last week. Right on the river walk, you lay hands on the man.”

  Gideon was almost angrier about the fire than about the dead man in his house. “I never wanted the house. Arthur Finnemore gave me the collection of Cane River letters and photos in the basement. I’m a historian and I never would have destroyed the collection just to keep it away from Barney.”

  “Letters and photos? He was buying the house just to get his hands on a bunch of old papers?” Reisler clearly didn’t believe him.

  “It’s valuable. Irreplaceable.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Was valuable. I could only save about half of it.”

  “Let’s talk about the day you two had an altercation on the river walk.”

  “He was faking. I didn’t touch him.”

  Reisler’s brows went up. “Faking. And maybe he faked his way all the way to being strangled in your living room?”

  “I don’t know how he got there. I didn’t strangle anyone.”

  Flipping open a folder, Reisler read from a sheet. “Says here that you choked Reggie Landre in front of his son.”

  Gideon grimaced. Reggie had either come forward to volunteer that information or there had been witnesses. “I apologized for that. It was a misunderstanding.”

  Reisler looked positively incredulous. “A misunderstanding.”

  “Yes.” He should have
taken Reggie’s threats seriously, but instead, here he was. He could point the finger toward Nightmare Jones and hope he was right. But even if he were, the most cursory look by the police wouldn’t prove anything. These men had ways of covering their tracks.

  “Was that over the collection, too? Or were there other issues? Reggie had ties to drug dealers in LaFayette. Barney Sandoz had been seen with the same people.” He glanced down at his folder. “Looks like you’ve gotten tangled up in the drug trade before.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked. His heartbeat thudded in his ears and when he passed a hand over his face, he felt it slick with cold sweat.

  “It says here your parents thought they could steal a few thousand from a mid-level dealer and get away with it. But skimming was always a good way to get yourself killed.”

  Gideon closed his eyes. A few thousand. He remembered his daddy promising to get it back, just to give him a few days. His mama alternated between screaming at his daddy for being stupid and pleading for mercy. He shivered, remembering the cold water. As he clung to the tree roots, the only sound was the lapping of the river water against his legs. “I had nothing to do with that,” he managed and his words sounded like they were coming from far away.

  “Maybe not, but it’s easier to follow a path our parents already walked,” Reisler said but there was a different tone in his voice, as if he knew he were touching on a sore point. “We’ve also heard Barney Sandoz was hanging around Oakland Plantation. Maybe there was a little jealous rivalry going on for the attentions of Henry Byrne?”

  The sound of her name hit Gideon with a physical pain so strong he hunched in on himself. “There was no rivalry.”

  “But it seems you’ve also had a falling out with Miss Byrne. Did she find out something about you she didn’t like? Maybe she heard some rumors about drug dealing. Or did she catch you in a lie?”

  Gideon looked up at Reisler and there must have been something in his expression because the detective shifted imperceptibly, moving his hand to his firearm.