by Sharon Sala
He touched his face. His jowls were sagging. He vaguely remembered his father’s face looking a bit like this, although the eyes were different. He remembered his father’s expression as more dissolute. He’d been such a bastard, his father, but as much as he’d hated him and as hard as he’d tried to be different, he’d turned out just like him. There wasn’t a day of his life when he didn’t relive what he’d done to Amelia or remember the hate and rage on Marcus’s face when he’d come into his room. There were days when he could deal with it, and then there were other times, like tonight, when he wished he’d never lived through the beating.
He heard a sound behind him. He didn’t have to look to know it was Carolyn. When she came up behind him, he saw the tears in her eyes. He hated it when she cried.
“Don’t,” he said, and opened his arms.
“You’re a good man, Terrence Sealy.”
Terrence sighed as he pulled her close.
“You’re the only one who thinks so.”
“You didn’t mean to. You were hurt. You were drunk.”
He started to shake. “I fucking raped my cousin’s fiancée the night before her wedding. If it had happened to you, would it have been okay?”
Carolyn’s face crumpled. “I love you, Terry. I always have. I always will.”
“I know… and I thank God every day of my life for you, but it doesn’t change what I think about myself.”
“We shouldn’t have come back here,” she said. “It’s all my fault. I wanted to come home so bad that I didn’t think of what it might do to you.”
“No… no… don’t talk like that. We had no choice, and you know it. We couldn’t leave Marcus to deal with this horror alone.” Then he looked at Carolyn closer. “Did you?”
“Did I what?” she asked.
“Know anything… about Michael having an affair, I mean?”
Carolyn frowned. “No… at least… I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean?”
Carolyn leaned against him, taking comfort from the strength of his embrace.
“Once or twice I caught Kay crying. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. You know… couples fuss. Couples make up. But maybe she knew something.”
“What are you going to tell the police?”
She shrugged. “What can I tell them but the truth?”
***
Rose sat in her sister’s living room, trying to ignore the loud, obnoxious voice of her brother-in-law’s demands. To this day, she couldn’t understand how her sister could have married him. As children they’d been the darlings of the family; as young adults, they’d had many opportunities to succeed; and yet here they were, a cook for a rich man and a doormat for a drunk.
Rose rarely let herself dwell on the past. She’d had everything going for her. A man who loved her—or so she thought—and promises of a happy-ever-after life. It just hadn’t happened.
She folded her hands neatly in her lap and pasted a quiet smile on her face as her brother-in-law fell asleep, passed out in a chair on the other side of the room. She was upset about what had happened with Anna. She’d assured Mr. Marcus that she could handle the woman; then, the moment she’d turned her back, Anna had set fire to the house. She wanted to cry. If they fired her, she would be devastated. Then she told herself that they weren’t like that. They wouldn’t blame her for something a crazy woman did.
Rose pushed off in the rocker and set it to moving. It squeaked softly with every motion. One of the rockers needed to be reglued. If it belonged to her, she would already have seen to the problem. She didn’t know why her sister was so slovenly. Then she glanced at her brother-in-law and sighed. If she had to live with someone like him, she might let things slide, too.
“Rose… supper is ready. Come and eat!”
Rose winced. Her sister didn’t have to shout. She was only in the other room. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers, so she got up and moved into the kitchen and tried not to think of the woman who’d set fire to her world.
***
Trey had been up for hours, going over everything he had on the case of Baby Jane Doe, which was little to nothing. He’d researched the brand of suitcase the bones had been in, looked for artists who specialized in woodwork and wood-burning art with a bent toward religion, and read all there was to be had on Foster Lawrence.
According to the background check, Lawrence was the youngest of five children, born to a single mother who seemed to make a living out of having babies, the total of her monthly welfare check going up with each birth.
The oldest child was a boy named James, who had died in a gang war when he was sixteen. The second child, a girl named Cheryl, had overdosed at the age of twenty-two and was in a coma in some state-run institution back in Cleveland. The next two children had been twin girls, Laree and Sheree. There was no information on them past the age of eighteen. Then there was Foster, the youngest, who, except for a couple of scrapes with the law in his teens, had no record whatsoever. Until the Sealy kidnapping.
And to Trey, that was what didn’t add up. Kidnapping was a federal offense. Perps who got involved in high crimes like that usually had priors. It wasn’t normal for some ordinary person to make that kind of leap—unless there were extenuating circumstances. Sometimes during a divorce one parent would kidnap a child from a custodial parent, but it wasn’t common for someone to get involved as deeply as Foster Lawrence had done without a reason other than money. He needed to get Foster to open up.
He had gone to sleep dreaming of the case, trying to think what it would take to make a fairly decent man get mixed up in something as vile as murder and kidnapping. Lawrence hadn’t been known to run with any particular crowd. There wasn’t anyone—except his siblings—to whom Foster Lawrence had been attached.
It was with that thought in mind that Trey awoke. He knew what had happened to two of Lawrence’s siblings. Just for the hell of it, he decided to find out where the twin sisters were. If Foster had stayed in contact with them, they might know who he’d been hanging out with. It could be the lead he needed to find the killer of Baby Jane Doe. Just as he was closing the last file, his alarm went off.
“Well, damn,” Trey muttered when he realized it was time to start a new day. Then he remembered what was happening this morning. Livvie. He was bringing Livvie home today.
Exhaustion was forgotten as he headed for the shower.
***
Olivia was dressed and waiting when she heard Trey’s footsteps outside her door. She stood up in anticipation, not just because she was finally getting out of the hospital, but because Trey was coming to take her home with him. She’d spent most of her high-school years wanting this to happen, but it never had. Back in high school, he’d been part of a family, however imperfect, and she’d been so envious. His father had a reputation for being a hard drinker, but Trey loved him. His mother waited tables in a restaurant and paid their electric bill from her tips, and he adored her. He had two older brothers, one who was career military, and the other a fireman in Houston, who bragged about their little brother, the football star, to all their friends. The Bonney family could have paid off the mortgage on their house with what Marcus spent in one year for Olivia’s clothes. They hadn’t wanted her in Trey’s life any more than Marcus had wanted Trey in hers. Yet here they were, eleven years later, back in each other’s lives. For Olivia, it was a dream come true.
She patted nervously at her hair, wishing she could have styled it, but heartily glad just to have it clean. She’d been given permission to shower this morning and had been almost giddy at the news. It wasn’t until she’d had to endure several days of enduring bed baths that she’d realized the true freedom of being able to bathe on her own.
Her gaze focused on the door, waiting for it to move. When it began to swing inward, she caught herself holding her breath. Then she saw Trey silhouetted in the doorway. Tears suddenly blurred her vision, but she blinked them away.
“Hey, you’re up a
nd dressed,” Trey said as he carefully took her in his arms. Ever careful of her injuries, he hugged her gently, then bent down and kissed her square on the lips.
Olivia groaned softly.
Trey sighed.
“Hold that thought,” he said, and cupped the back of her head as she rested her forehead against his chest.
“Holding on for dear life,” she said.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked.
“I just have to sign some papers at the nurses’ station on the way out.”
“Is that your wheelchair?” he asked, pointing to the one against the wall.
“Yes, they won’t let me walk out.”
“That’s okay,” Trey said. “I’m all about following the rules.” He took her by the arm and led her to the wheelchair. “Your carriage awaits, my love.”
Olivia shivered as she sat. “Am I, Trey?”
Trey grinned as he knelt to flip down the footrests.
“Are you what, Livvie?”
“Your love?”
The grin disappeared. “Yes, ma’am, you sure are.”
“You don’t think this is all happening too fast?”
“Do you?”
Olivia shook her head, then cupped Trey’s cheek with her hand.
“No way, but what did happen too fast was the almost-end of my life. That’s what was startling. After I woke up and realized I was still breathing, I made myself a promise that I would never live another day with regrets. So, for better or for worse, I’m baring my heart to you, Trey. I’ve always regretted the way our first relationship ended. When I asked you for a second chance, I was serious. I admit we have a lot of catching up to do, but I’m so ready for this to begin.”
Trey turned her hands palms up, kissing first one, then the other.
“So am I, Livvie, so am I,” he said.
Then he stood, slung the strap of her overnight bag over his shoulder and grabbed the handles of the wheelchair.
“Let’s blow this joint,” he said.
“Yes, please,” Olivia said as he wheeled her away.
Within the hour, Trey was pulling into his driveway. He liked his house. It was comfortable in every way that mattered to him, but there was a moment of hesitation as he wondered how Olivia would view it.
The single-story three-bedroom redbrick house was about twenty years old. Trey had owned it for almost ten. Over the years he’d added a veranda in front and a small pool in the back. Crepe myrtle bushes encircled the yard in lieu of a fence. Olivia could smell the thick, sweet scent of their blooms as Trey opened the door.
“This is beautiful,” Olivia said. “Did you do the landscaping?”
Trey shrugged. “Yeah, if you want to call it that. There’s more in the backyard around the pool.”
“You have a pool, too?”
He grinned. “Yeah, Livvie, I have a pool, too.”
“Great. The doctor said water therapy would be helpful for my shoulder.” Then she looked at him and grinned. “And seeing you in a swimsuit wouldn’t be so bad, either.”
Trey leaned across the seat until his mouth was just a few inches from her lips.
“I don’t wear a swimsuit when I swim,” he said.
Olivia’s eyes widened.
“What about your neighbors?”
“There’s a privacy fence in the backyard.”
“Oh.”
“Come on, Livvie, it’s time to get you inside and in bed.”
“My kind of man,” Olivia muttered. “No sense wasting time on foreplay.”
Trey frowned. “In bed as in resting.”
“I know. I was just testing you.”
Trey chalked her sarcasm up to nerves.
“Come on, Livvie, relax. We’re going to get you inside, get your feet up and your shoes off. Ella will be over any time I give her the call, so after I leave, you won’t be alone, okay?”
Olivia was feeling a little vulnerable and didn’t know what she thought about being forced to spend the day with a stranger. But then she realized she’d been doing that very thing for the last week in the hospital. At least here she had the freedom of the house.
“Yes, okay,” she said. “I am feeling a little tired.”
Trey frowned. “Sorry, honey, why didn’t you say so? I don’t know what I was thinking.”
He got her out, but instead of helping her inside, he picked her up and carried her to the door. He set her down only long enough to unlock the door, then picked her up again and carried her inside.
Olivia had fleeting glimpses of large, airy rooms, a big-screen television, overstuffed furniture, hardwood floors and a desk piled high with folders, papers and a computer.
“This will be your room,” Trey said as he set her down on the side of a queen-size sleigh bed, then pulled back the covers. “My room is right across the hall, so all you’ll need to do is call out and I’ll come running.”
“Okay.”
He cupped the side of her face.
“Relax, Livvie… we’ve got the rest of our lives to get through this awkward stage. All I want from you now is for you to get well.”
“I know. I want that, too.”
“Do you want your nightgown?”
“What I would really like is my old T-shirt, but it’s at my house, so I guess the nightgown will have to do.”
“What’s so special about that T-shirt?” Trey asked.
“It’s big and old and soft.”
“Just a minute,” Trey said, and hurried out of the room. He came back with what looked like a large white rag. “Try this,” he said, and spread it out on the bed. There was a big DPD, Dallas Police Department, logo on the front.
Olivia started to grin. “How long have you had that?”
“Since the police academy… which would be at least ten years.”
“You sure you don’t mind me wearing it?” Olivia said.
“Honey, both I and the Dallas police force will be honored to know you’ve been inside it.” Then he eyed her shoulder. “Need any help getting undressed?”
“No, I think I can handle it.”
“I’m going to get your bag out of the car. You get comfortable and then crawl into bed.”
He winked as he left, and Olivia had an urge to pinch herself. A month ago she’d been dallying across Europe with Grampy, resigned to the single life. So much had changed in such a short time. Their family was now under scrutiny by the media and the police and somehow mixed up in the death of a toddler. She’d been shot, lived through a wreck that should have killed her, and in the midst of all that sorrow and shock, she’d been reunited with her first love. It was difficult to believe, but here she was, in Trey Bonney’s house.
Carefully, she took off her clothes and slipped into Trey’s old T-shirt. It was soft and threadbare in places, and it clung to the thrust of her breasts with the familiarity of an old friend.
Olivia savored the comfort of the soft fabric against the healing wound on her shoulder as she got into bed. The pillow cradled her head as the mattress gave way to her weight. She pulled the sheet and coverlet up to her waist, then wiggled slightly until she found a comfortable spot. The cool sheets and the crisp pillowcase smelled faintly of flowers, reminding Olivia of the beautiful border of dark purple crepe myrtle blooming outside.
A few moments later Trey was back, carrying her bag and a glass of water. He dug the pain pills out of her bag, poured the required dose into his hand, then handed them to her.
“Here, honey. You’ll rest better.”
She put them in her mouth, then sipped from the glass Trey held for her. By the time she’d lain back down on the pillow, she was exhausted.
“Thank you so much,” she said softly.
Trey laid his hand briefly on the top of her head.
“You’re welcome, baby. I’m going to call Ella to come over. You two can introduce yourselves later. Just rest, knowing that if you need help, someone will be here.”
Olivia looked up at Trey as he h
overed over the bed.
“I’ll be fine. Go catch bad guys. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Emotion caught Trey unaware as he watched her close her eyes. He stood there for a moment, trying to absorb the fact that Olivia was really in bed in his house. He wanted to believe that something good was going to come of this. He wanted to believe with all his heart that this was the beginning of the rest of their lives together. He wanted to—and a part of him already did—but he’d been burned before. Only time would tell if the memory of the love they’d once shared would be strong enough to sustain them through a renewal of more than passion.
“Love you, baby,” he said softly.
Olivia’s eyes were already closed, but she managed a sweet sigh, then an “I love you, too.”
Trey waited until her breathing was slow and even, then he left to call Ella.
She answered on the first ring.
“I’m on my way,” she said.
Trey grinned. “And how did you know it was me?”
“Caller ID,” she said smartly, and hung up in his ear.
He replaced the receiver and headed for the door. She was on the doorstep by the time he opened it, wearing pink warm-up pants and a matching pink T-shirt.
“I really appreciate this,” Trey said, trying not to stare at the large silver hoops dangling from her earlobes.
“Hey, I’m happy to do my part to get you married off,” Ella said, and fluffed at her white, spiky hair.
“How do you like my new do?” she asked.
Trey grinned. “Pretty sharp. You look like you’re dressed for the kill. Who’s the lucky man?”
Ella smirked. “Hershel Mynor. He owns a chain of funeral parlors. Pretty convenient, huh? Maybe I’ll get myself buried for free.”
“Lord, Ella. What a thing to plan for,” Trey muttered.
“Well, it’s what people my age do, you know. We can’t leave everything for our kids to deal with. Besides, my daughter-in-law’s taste leaves a lot to be desired. It would be just like her to pick out some god-awful casket with so many ruffles and ribbons that I’ll look like a first-place show horse at the state fair.”
