“I can’t,” he told her, his words spoken through tightly clenched teeth. “I don’t dare.”
“Yes, you can. I’m right here with you. I’m your lifeline. I won’t let you drown.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
G.W.’S AFTERNOON ROUTINE had been interrupted by three consecutive phone calls, giving him little time to regroup and think between the conversations. First, he had reluctantly accepted a phone call from Olivia, wondering at the time what was so urgent. After all, it had been only a little over two hours since he’d had lunch with her.
“I received the most dreadful phone call,” Olivia had said and quickly went into this lengthy tirade about a mysterious voice telling her an ugly, vicious lie about dear little Leslie Anne.
G.W.’s blood had run cold when Olivia mentioned the name Eddie Jay Nealy.
While he was still on the phone with Olivia, G.W.’s personal assistant, Fay Harris, had interrupted, telling him that his sister-in-law needed to speak to him immediately, that she claimed it was a family emergency. He assured Olivia that what she’d been told was a pack of lies, then got off the phone with her as quickly as possible. He’d gone through a similar scenario with Myrle, who had been practically hysterical. By the time he’d persuaded her that someone was spreading vicious lies and he would deal with them harshly, G.W. realized that whoever had sent Leslie Anne those newspaper clippings was damned and determined for the whole world to learn the truth about his granddaughter’s paternity.
As he’d prepared to leave the office and go home, Sharon had called. Before she’d said a word, he knew why she’d called him.
“I’m heading out the door,” G.W. had told his sister. “Whatever you do, don’t let Leslie Anne speak to anyone. And tell that Dundee agent, Lucie what’s-her-name, about what’s happened. I don’t want Leslie Anne to hear about this before I get a chance to tell her myself.”
When he pulled his Mercedes to a stop in front of the house, not bothering to park in the garage, G.W. had already planned and discarded several different solutions to the problem at hand. More than anything, he wanted to protect Tessa and Leslie Anne. But it would take a miracle to prevent the looming disaster. Out there somewhere was a person armed with the truth about Tessa’s rape and Leslie Anne’s conception. And apparently he or she was on a mission to see that the whole world knew the Westbrook family had been living a lie for the past seventeen years.
Before he even got out of the car, Sharon opened the front door and came rushing off the veranda, a look of panic on her face. His sister was rather dramatic and often overreacted to things, but in this case, he shared her sense of doom.
“God, G.W., what are we going to do?”
Leaving his briefcase lying on the front seat, he emerged from the Mercedes and faced his sister. “Did you recognize the voice of the person who called you? Was it a man or a woman?”
“Didn’t I tell you that the voice was disguised?” Sharon reached out and put her arm through G.W.’s as they rounded the car’s hood and headed toward the front veranda. “I probably didn’t. I’ve been so upset that I’m not thinking straight.”
He felt the slight tremor in her body and wondered if the shakiness inside him was apparent to her.
“Where’s Leslie Anne?” he asked. “Does she know—”
“No, she has no idea that someone’s calling everyone we know to tell them about Eddie Jay Nealy being her biological father. I explained what’s been happening to Ms. Evans and she got Leslie Anne out of the house by suggesting they go horseback riding.”
“Is that where they are now?”
“Yes, yes.” Sharon paused, threw her arms around G.W. and hugged him. “I’ve been worried sick about you. This stress can’t be good for your heart. Maybe we should call Dr. Lester.”
“I don’t need a damn doctor. What I need is the Dundee Agency to find out who’s trying to destroy my family. What did Ms. Evans have to say about all this? Has she heard anything from Dante and Tessa?” He’d been damn upset to learn that Tessa had run off with Moran, that they were in Rayville, searching for ghosts. But what could they find out? Hadn’t he spent a fortune to keep all their secrets buried? Nobody would dare admit to anything, not when anyone who knew anything had been involved in the cover-up themselves or were bound by ethics not to reveal confidential matters.
“Ms. Evans put in a call to the other two agents to alert them and they’ll contact Mr. Moran,” Sharon said, easing her tenacious hold on G.W. “I tried to call Tessa, but I got her voice mail. She’s either out of range or she’s turned off her cell phone.”
“Damn time for her to be away.” G.W. put his arm around Sharon and led her up the steps and onto the veranda. “She had no business going off with Moran. I don’t understand her reasoning.”
“Her whole life is falling apart, G.W. Don’t you think she has a right to—”
“I gave her this life, and by God I won’t let it fall apart. She should know that.” G.W. opened the front door and held it for Sharon to enter. “I’ll protect Tessa and Leslie Anne, no matter what the cost.”
Sharon walked into the foyer, G.W. directly behind her. “I don’t think all the money in the world can keep the truth from coming out and spreading like wildfire. Whoever this person is who made the phone calls, he—or she—isn’t going to stop. This has become a damn avalanche that keeps growing bigger and bigger and picking up speed. This family is in the line of fire and we’re not going to come out of it without taking a direct hit. We’re going to be buried alive by seventeen years of lies.”
G.W. slammed the door. “We have to come up with some type of damage control. You get on the phone and find out what you can from Olivia and Myrle and tell them to keep their damn mouths shut. I’m contacting Sawyer McNamara at Dundee headquarters and explaining the situation. I’ll hire however many agents we need to get to the bottom of this mystery. I want to know who’s doing this to us and why!”
“Myrle and Celia are already on their way over here,” Sharon said. “I told them not to come, but you know Myrle.”
“Then you’ll have to handle them because I cannot deal with Anne’s sister. Not until I decide the best way to handle this mess.”
“What about Charlie?”
“What about him?”
“He’s already here.”
“What?”
“Myrle called him and told him about the phone call she received and he came right on over. He’s worried about Leslie Anne and Tessa. And about you, G.W. You know how Charlie worships you.”
G.W. glanced across the foyer at the parlor. “Where is he?”
Charlie had been like a son to G.W., and despite his deficiencies as a businessman, he was a charming, likable young man who reminded G.W. of Charlie’s dad, who’d been G.W.’s best friend and his fraternity brother. Lieutenant James Sentell had died a hero’s death in the last days of the Vietnam War, when Charlie had been little more than a baby. It was at that time G.W. had stepped in to help James’s widow, Brenda, who was G.W.’s first cousin, once removed. And even after Brenda remarried, G.W. had remained a father figure to Charlie.
“I left him in the library,” Sharon said. “The poor boy is terribly upset, just as we all are.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing, but…I put him off, then finally I lied to him and said I couldn’t image how such a vile rumor got started. But, G.W., I know he didn’t believe me.”
G.W. patted her on the shoulder. “It’s all right. I suppose I should have told Charlie the truth years ago, but I kept hoping he and Tessa would get married and he’d adopt Leslie Anne. I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about Leslie Anne, if he knew Eddie Jay Nealy had fathered her. Brenda raised him to look down on anyone he perceives as beneath him. It’s her fault he’s such a damn snob.”
“Go talk to him before you call Sawyer McNamara,” Sharon said. “I’ll phone Olivia to try to put her off and then I’ll deal with Myrle and Celia when they arrive.”
> “Lock the damn door and refuse to let them in.”
“I can’t do that and you know it. It’s no use trying to postpone the inevitable.”
“When I find out who’s responsible for this disaster, I’m going to make him wish he’d never been born.”
G.W. stomped off toward the library, leaving his sister to handle things the best way she could. He’d spent a fortune, even broken the law, to keep his family’s ugly secret. And he had no regrets about what he’d done. He’d do the same things all over again. Everything he’d done—every lie he’d told—he’d done for only one reason. To protect the people he loved. And he had protected the person he’d loved most in this world. Anne. Even now, after so many years, he missed her unbearably. But he was thankful she had not lived to see this day. The truth would have broken her heart.
The library doors stood partially open, allowing G.W. to see inside before entering. The room was empty. Where the hell was Charlie?
“Charlie?” G.W. called.
No answer.
He couldn’t worry himself with his godson’s whereabouts. Charlie had always had the run of the house. He’d probably gone to find Hal and ask for a drink. It was getting close to that time of day.
G.W. sat down behind the massive mahogany desk, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Was there any possible way to stem the tide before the dam broke? Or had the dam already broken? Were Olivia and Myrle the only people who’d received a call from the mysterious voice? Or had this person telephoned half the citizens of Fairport?
Trying to think rationally about a subject that was entirely emotional and extremely personal, G.W. reminded himself that even if the entire world learned the truth, he and his family would find a way to deal with it. So what if the worst happened and everyone knew that Tessa had been one of Nealy’s victims and Leslie Anne was a result of Tessa having been raped? Most people would be understanding and sympathetic and to hell with those who weren’t. Leslie Anne would have to undergo therapy whether the secret stayed within the family or spread through the whole county. And Tessa had already proved she was made of tough stuff. She had survived Eddie Jay Nealy; she could survive this, too.
So what do I do now? Should I admit to Olivia and Myrle that I covered up the truth about what happened to Tessa all those years ago? Do I confess to having committed a crime in order to save Anne a heartache I felt she couldn’t endure?
He might not have any other choice. It seemed someone was intent on revealing the truth about the past. But who? And why? And just how much did this person really know?
TESSA HELD Dante as he knelt at Amy Smith’s grave, time standing still for both of them. The crisp October wind picked up, whirling around them. Dead autumn leaves danced haphazardly over the graves and came to rest against the headstones. Tessa shivered. Dante glanced at her, his features tight, his eyes glazed by grief.
“You’re cold,” he said, his voice lifeless. “We should go.”
She hugged him, his back to her chest, then laid her chin on his shoulder as she pressed her cheek against his and whispered, “We’ll stay here as long as you need to.”
“I don’t want…to leave…her.” His voice cracked with emotion.
“Oh, Dante.”
He reached out and caressed the cold pink marble, his fingertips tracing the words of the heartbreakingly sweet poem etched into the stone. A low, guttural wail emerged from deep within him as he clutched the top of the monument and doubled over in pain, his forehead grazing the edge of the sculpted rose on the left. Tessa released him and came to her feet, then stood over him, allowing him this moment alone with Amy.
She longed to hold him. Comfort him. Ease his suffering.
When her father had stood by and watched her endure sheer hell as she’d slowly recovered from Eddie Jay Nealy’s handiwork, had he felt as helpless as she felt now? Had his heart broken in two seeing her suffer and knowing he could do so very little to help her?
Oh, Dante. She didn’t understand why she cared so deeply, why he’d touched her heart in a way no other man ever had. He was little more than a stranger to her and yet she felt as if she’d always known him, as if they were soul mates. If she believed in reincarnation, she’d swear they’d been lovers in another life.
Was this connection she felt to him nothing more than a strong sexual attraction? Or was it because she shared a tragic history with Amy Smith? Dante’s teenage sweetheart and Tessa hadn’t known each other and yet fate had forever linked them by the vicious acts of a madman.
Tessa wasn’t sure how long they stayed at the cemetery, how long Dante was trapped in the throes of inconsolable grief, but when he rose to his feet, the sun lay low in the western sky. Approaching twilight painted the horizon with glorious color.
After Dante turned around, he didn’t look at Tessa; he simply walked away. She caught up with him and fell into step at his side. When they reached the rental car, he yanked the keys from his pants pocket and tossed them to her.
“Can you drive?” he asked.
“All right.”
As soon as they were buckled into their safety belts, Tessa started the car, then glanced at Dante. “Is there anywhere you want to go before—”
“Let’s just go back to the motel for now.”
“Sure.”
They rode in silence for quite a while, although Tessa kept thinking of ways to approach Dante without mentioning what had happened at the cemetery. He’d fallen to pieces and yet hadn’t shed one tear. Tessa knew from personal experience that he couldn’t hold back the tears much longer without exploding. That’s when he would need her. And she intended to be there for him when it happened.
LESLIE ANNE found herself laughing when she and Lucie returned to the stables and worked together to rub down the horses. They’d talked girl-talk for the past couple of hours, nothing serious, nothing to remind Leslie Anne of recent events. She’d given Lucie a tour of the Leslie Plantation and had been surprised that the Dundee agent rode like a pro.
“I grew up on a farm,” Lucie had told her. “I was riding not long after I learned how to walk.”
They’d stopped twice during the afternoon, once down by the river to let the horses drink and then again underneath the tree house her granddaddy had had constructed as a sixth birthday present for her.
“I don’t know who loved that tree house more, me or Granddaddy,” Leslie Anne had told Lucie. “Eustacia used to pack us picnic lunches and we’d climb the ladder and sit up there eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and drinking chocolate milk out of Thermoses.”
“Sounds like you had a wonderful childhood.”
“Yes, I did. Thanks to Mother and Granddaddy.”
“Do you ever use the tree house now that you’re older?”
“How’d you guess?” Leslie Anne giggled. “Every once in a while I climb up there and stay for hours whenever I want to be by myself.”
After they finished cooling down Passion Flower and Mr. Wonderful, Luther led one horse and then the other into their stalls. “You’d best be heading back to the house,” he said. “It’ll be dark before long and Miss Sharon will be hunting y’all up for supper.”
“You sound like a mother hen,” Leslie Anne said jokingly. “Has my running away got even you worrying about me?”
Luther grinned. “I just know you ought not worry folks who love you.”
“I agree, Luther.” Leslie Anne patted him on the arm, then turned to Lucie. “Race you back to the house?”
“You honestly think you can outrun me?” Lucie asked.
“Let’s find out.”
“I never could resist a dare. Okay. Want me to give you a head start?”
“No way,” Leslie Anne said. “I’m going to beat you fair and square.”
Luther stayed out of the way as Leslie Anne and Lucie simultaneously counted down from three. Like a couple of whirlwinds, they ran out of the stables and up the path leading to the old mansion. Leslie Anne managed to keep pace w
ith Lucie until nearly halfway to the house, then Lucie sprinted ahead, leaving Leslie Anne struggling to catch up.
“Leslie Anne?” a voice called from the woods.
You’re imagining it, she told herself and kept running.
“Leslie Anne.”
Don’t listen. There’s no one there.
Although she increased her pace, hoping to catch up with Lucie, Leslie Anne’s gaze darted left and right, searching for the source of a voice she kept hoping wasn’t real. And all the while, she waited to hear those three taunting words.
Who’s your daddy?
WINDED AND PERSPIRING, Lucie reached the back porch of the old mansion. Stretching to relieve the tension in her body, she waited for Leslie Anne. After a couple of minutes, Lucie began to feel uneasy. Leslie Anne hadn’t been that far behind her. Where the hell was she? After another couple of minutes passed, real fear tightened Lucie’s stomach muscles.
As she ran back down the path, retracing her steps, she called out Leslie Anne’s name and prayed nothing had happened to the girl who’d been left in her care.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
WHEN THEY RETURNED to the motel where they’d stayed the night before, Dante stopped at the door to Tessa’s room, but as he started to unlock the door, she grasped his wrist.
“Come in and stay with me for a while,” she said.
He looked into her eyes, those beautiful blue eyes the same color as Amy’s, and all he wanted to do was grab her and hold on to her forever. But Tessa wasn’t Amy, no matter how much she reminded him of her, no matter how much some heartbroken part of him wished she was. “I’m not fit company for anyone.”
“I’m not looking for good company,” she told him. “I just don’t want to be alone, and I don’t think you do, either.”
He lifted his arm and skimmed her cheek with the back of his hand. “You shouldn’t do this. And if you do, you’ll regret it. It’s not your responsibility to hold me together. And I’m warning you that I’m this close—” he indicated a quarter of an inch with his index finger and thumb “—to falling to pieces.”
Worth Dying For Page 19
