The very idea almost sent him tearing out of the diner. He managed to stay in his seat, even managed to listen to the other guys talk about their kids and wives. Pete brought out the latest pictures of his little boy, almost two years old. Dixon announced that Kate was waiting to hear about admission to law school. After more than a year together, Adam said his wife’s name with the tone of a bridegroom, while Rob talked about the challenge of blending two families with three kids between them. All of them seemed to enjoy the rewards in life that a good man deserved—rewards Noah would likely never see.
The bell on the door jangled as customers came and went, but all the tables stayed full. With a frown at the fact that he hadn’t eaten his breakfast, Abby cleared Noah’s dishes, along with the rest of the table, then bustled off to clear and serve yet again. Watching, Noah couldn’t imagine how she and Charlie kept the diner traffic flowing with practically no help.
Just as he took the last gulp from a second mug of hot chocolate—set in front of him without his request—he felt a tap on his shoulder. Noah turned around, expecting Abby, and found himself confronting a tall, barrel-chested police officer. The badge over his left shirt pocket identified him as W. Hayes.
“I thought I’d have a visit from you this week.” Hayes made no effort to keep his voice low.
The crowd noise faded as Noah got to his feet. “I only got into town on Wednesday.”
“Yeah, and the first thing you’re supposed to do is check in with me. I could have you sent back.” Hayes snapped his fingers in front of Noah’s nose. “Like that.”
“Hey, Wade, what’s the problem?” Pete pushed back his chair but didn’t stand up.
Adam did. “Harassment isn’t usually the way we welcome people to New Skye.”
Hayes looked at the mayor. “Sorry to interrupt, Your Honor, but this man’s an ex-con from Georgia. If he doesn’t report to the police within twenty-four hours of arrival, he’s in violation of his parole. I’m just trying to help him stay out of trouble, not to mention out of prison.”
A dropped pin would have sounded loud in the absolute silence. Noah felt half the room staring at his unprotected back. The other half stared at his heated face. He couldn’t leave the place without paying for his breakfast, or he would have been gone.
Only one thing could make the situation worse. So, of course, that’s what happened.
“What are you talking about?” Abby pushed between the chairs and the tables, arriving at Hayes’s side. “I think you’ve been drinking on Saturday morning, Wade. Or else you never stopped from Friday night.”
Hayes shook his head and gave her a righteous smile. “Nope. Haven’t touched a drop all week.”
Her face set in a skeptical frown, she crossed her arms and stared up at the big man. “So what are we talking about here? A speeding ticket in one of those traps you guys like to set up in small towns?”
“No, ma’am.” Hayes looked around, making sure he had everybody’s attention. “He was paroled from a State of Georgia correctional facility in Atlanta on Monday morning after serving three years of a seven-year sentence.”
In his mind, Noah heard the massive clang of the steel gate at the end of that long gray hallway.
“For what?” Abby’s voice wobbled on the question.
“Manslaughter,” Hayes announced. “Mr. Blake, here, killed a man in Georgia. And he went to prison for it.”
CHAPTER FIVE
The Diary of Abigail Ann Brannon
October 16, 1984
Dear Diary,
There was another fight at school today, during algebra. Wade Hayes, the creepiest boy in the class, stuck his leg out in the aisle as Esther Goldberg walked up to the front of the room. She wears those thick, heavy glasses and she didn’t see what he’d done, so she tripped and fell, of course, onto her hands and knees. The glasses fell off and broke, which was when Esther started to cry. Jacquie and I got up to help her, but before Mrs. Morrow even knew what was going on, Noah Blake jerked Wade up out of his desk and shoved him against the wall of the classroom. Wade, of course, hit back, and then he and Noah were going at each other like pit bulls at a dog-fight. Mrs. Morrow called the office, and it took both Coach Rangeland Mr. Arthur, the shop teacher, to pull the guys apart. Wade looked bad—I think Noah might have broken his nose, it was bleeding so much. Noah had marks on his face, but I’m not sure Wade put all of them there.
They’ve both been suspended for a week. Esther was okay, and I’m hoping maybe she’ll get some glasses that make her look less geeky. I guess Noah won’t be coming to the fall dance this weekend. Not that he would have danced with me if he had shown up. Jacquie says he’s hanging out with Carla Robinson, the sluttiest girl in tenth grade. And she’s so much older than him. I know everybody looks down on sluts. But they do seem to get the best guys.
February 14, 1985
Dear Diary,
Valentine’s Day pretty much sucks when you’re in middle school. The teachers don’t make you give everybody a card anymore and there isn’t a class party, so if your friends don’t think about it and you don’t have a boyfriend, it might just as well be any other day. Especially if you have to work all afternoon at the diner, like I did.
I got a few cards, from Jacquie and Kate, and one from Esther. Dixon and Pete pretended they didn’t remember the date, but Adam had a bag of lollipops he handed out.
Somebody went around slipping anonymous cards into the locker vents, which was a pretty good trick. Kate got one with a picture of roses on the front and a sweet poem inside that looked like it was handwritten. Jacquie’s card showed a photograph of a horse with its nose in a big box of chocolates, though she says they aren’t good for horses.
The big surprise was that I got one of the anonymous cards, too. Mine was different, not funny, not sweet. Inside it just said, “Have a Valentine’s Day as nice as you are,” with no signature. The picture on the front was a field of daisies, with a big tree in the background and a woman on a swing. Across the bottom it says, “You make me think of sunshine and wildflowers.”
I have no clue who sent it. I didn’t see Noah in class today. But I can hope.
ABBY HAD FALLEN off a horse once, when she was twelve. For about a minute after she hit the ground, she couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. Her chest felt as if someone had sucked all the air out.
She felt like that now, standing in the middle of the diner, in front of her friends and customers—and, dear God, her father—as she heard that Noah Blake was a convicted felon. He’d come back home after being paroled from prison.
“That’s right,” Noah said, his eyes fixed on Wade’s face. “I served my sentence and I’m on parole. You want to head down to your office right now?” He gave an open-handed shrug. “I’m finished here.”
Wade shook his head. “Now I’ve seen you, we can wait till Monday. I’ll expect you in front of my desk at eleven o’clock sharp.” The policeman grinned, turned on his heel and went to sit at the table his friends occupied.
All eyes in the room were still on Noah. He lifted his shoulders and blew out a deep breath, then turned back to the table. Pulling his wallet out of his sweat-pants pocket, he put a fifty-dollar bill on the table. “That should cover breakfast,” he told Dixon. “Thanks for the game. I had a good time.”
Abby waited for him to say something to her, but Noah gave her a brief half smile and left the diner with quick strides. As soon as the door shut behind him, talk flooded the room.
Pete, Dixon, Tommy and Trace joined Adam in getting to their feet. Dixon picked up the fifty-dollar bill. “I guess we’ll let Noah pay for breakfast. You need more?”
Abby lifted her hand with the check for the table crushed between her fingers. “It’s too much.”
“Maybe he’ll come back for his change.” Adam put a hand on her shoulder. “Delicious, as always. Thanks, Abby.”
She nodded, dazed, as the other guys took their leave. When she took the check and payment to the cash regis
ter, her dad was there, primed to point out how right he’d been.
“I told you I didn’t want him here. A murderer, that’s what he is. I always said Noah Blake was no good.”
“Yes, you did.” Abby handed him the fifty. “Though I notice his money’s not too filthy for you to take.”
“You don’t talk to me like that, young lady.” He put out a hand as if to keep her from walking away, but she was on the other side of the counter and out of reach.
The next hour passed in a blur as she took orders, cleared tables and evaded questions about Noah. Every time she went near Wade Hayes’s table, the policeman gave her a grin. As she poured coffee for him and his friends, he looked up into her face.
“Whatd’ya say, Miss Abby? How about dinner tonight, and maybe a movie?”
He’d asked before, and she’d given him the same answer. “Thanks, but I have to work.”
“Aw. Come on. Your old man can’t chain you here twenty-four/seven. You gotta have a life.”
“No, I don’t.” She stacked their plates on one arm and picked up the coffeepot with her free hand. “Y’all have a good day.”
On Saturday, the breakfast crowd morphed into the lunch crowd practically without a break, so it wasn’t until three o’clock that she had a chance to sit down and drink a glass of iced tea. Charlie was still in the kitchen, cooking for dinner, which might or might not be crowded.
The doorbell jangled and Abby automatically started to get up. A firm hand pushed her onto the seat again.
“Stay put,” Valerie Warren said, sitting down across the table. “I didn’t come for food.”
“Want something to drink? Coffee? Iced tea?”
Valerie shook her head. “I haven’t gotten used to drinking iced tea in the wintertime yet.”
“You northerners.” Abby shook her head in pretended disgust. “Maybe when you’ve been married awhile longer, Rob will get you into the habit.”
“Maybe.” The smile on Valerie’s face was the kind usually described as “starry-eyed.” She and Rob had married last June, and Abby had been delighted to be the maid of honor. “Rob told me what happened after the ball game this morning. Were you aware…?” She let the words trail off, as if she didn’t know what to say to them.
“Of course not.” Why would Noah tell her anything really important about his life?
“Do you think his mother knows?”
“I’m almost positive she doesn’t.”
Valerie wrapped her arms around herself, shivering a little. “It’s kind of scary, knowing we’ve got a man in town who went to jail for…killing somebody.”
There was no denying the truth, hard though it was to accept. “I can’t believe we have to be afraid of him. But…I would never have thought he could do something like that.” She had to admit Noah did have a reputation as a fighter. And fifteen years was a long time—who knew how he might have changed?
“But you don’t have the details on what happened, right? I mean, there might be an explanation that makes sense. A reason for what he did. Not just cold-blooded murder—surely he wouldn’t be out in only three years.”
“Well, he certainly didn’t hang around this morning to provide one. He was gone almost before everybody got the gist of what Wade said.” And he hadn’t called later to say…what? What could he possibly say?
“There must have been news reports when it happened,” Valerie said. “Whatever ‘it’ was. Maybe you could check the Internet, see if you can dig up some old stories.”
“Then I’ll have information, but what good does it do me?” Abby slid out of the booth and headed toward the coffeemaker. “If Noah doesn’t want to explain, what excuse do I have to go snooping into his private business?”
“You might feel better, knowing he had a reason.”
“I think I’d feel better if he just left town altogether.”
“But you’ve waited—”
She didn’t have to finish. Valerie had only moved to New Skye last summer, but the two of them had struck up a deep friendship almost immediately. This Yankee stranger was the only person to whom Abby had confessed her childish crush on Noah Blake.
Abby brought a mug of coffee back to the booth and slid it across the table for Valerie. “Could be it’s time for me to grow up and get over it, you know? Some things we just aren’t meant to have, and I’m beginning to believe that Noah falls into that category, as far as I’m concerned.” She sank back onto the seat. “Maybe the next time Wade Hayes asks me out, I’ll have to say yes.”
NOAH KNEW THE NEWS would reach his mother sooner or later, and probably sooner. He’d meant to tell her the truth when he first arrived, but somehow the opportunity hadn’t presented itself. Or maybe he had refused to recognize an opportunity when presented with one.
Either way, the choice had been taken out of his hands. Today was the day.
His mother was seated in her chair in the living room when he got home. “I’m going to get cleaned up,” he told her, and received a nod in reply. With the old shower nozzle dribbling water over his head, he tried to think of a way to begin what he had to say. But all he could really hold in his mind was the memory of Abby’s shocked face, the horror in her eyes as Hayes unloaded his big secret.
How to lose a girl in ten seconds.
Not that Abby had been his to lose, of course. She was much better off knowing the truth and staying out of his way.
Wearing clean jeans and his only dress shirt, face shaved, hair combed, Noah went back to the living room and sat down on the couch. He waited until a commercial to say anything, in case his mother didn’t want to interrupt her program.
“Ma, can I talk to you a minute?”
“What?” she said, without looking at him.
“I need to explain a couple of things. About why I’m here.”
She lifted the remote and turned off the set. “I figured you were out of a job and out of cash.”
Noah smiled ruefully. “I’ve been in that place plenty of times. No, this is different.” He leaned his elbows on his knees. “I just got out of jail.”
His mother nodded. “No surprise, there, either. I imagine that’s something else you’ve done a lot of, the last fifteen years.”
“No, just the once—for three years. I got paroled on a seven-year sentence.”
“What’d you do, steal that bike you ride around on?”
He took a deep breath. “I killed a man.”
Eyes round, mouth open, she stared at him for a long minute. “You killed a human being?”
“Yes.”
“They only gave you seven years for murder?”
“Manslaughter. Involuntary manslaughter.”
“Do you think that makes a difference?” She rolled her eyes. “Even your bastard of a father didn’t kill anybody. Not before he left this town, anyway.”
Noah didn’t react with an automatic defense, the way he would have before three years in prison. “My parole was transferred to the New Skye police department, and I’ll be allowed to stay as long as I have a settled address and keep a job.”
His mother slapped her knees with her palms, then clapped her hands on either side of her head. “That’s just great. How am I supposed to look people in the face, knowing my son is a murderer?” She struggled to her feet, breathing hard, and walked to the window overlooking the garden. “If you’d told me this when you first showed up, I wouldn’t ever have let you in the house. Maybe I’m just poor white trash, but I don’t want a murderer living with me.”
Before he could quite believe what he’d heard, she turned around to glare at him. “Does Abby know about this? Did she send you over here the other day, knowing what you’d done?”
“No. Abby didn’t find out until this morning.”
“Well, that’s something.” Some of Marian’s anger died. “She’s been good to me, that girl. Better than my own son was. And now…this.”
Noah got to his feet. “I can leave.”
His mo
ther crossed her arms and gave him a curt nod. “You’d better.”
Funny, how easily she could hurt him. His gut felt hollow, but he nodded. “No problem.”
He packed up in five minutes and stopped at the door on his way out. “I’ll let you know where I’m staying.”
She’d turned the television on again and didn’t look at him.
“Right,” Noah said, and walked out without the least idea of where he would spend the night.
THE DOOR SHUT, AND MARIAN heard the roar of the damn bike. She clicked off the TV, dropped the remote control and doubled over with her head in her hands.
My son’s a killer. There’d never been much hope that Noah would escape the taint. His father’s family held a well-deserved reputation for violence, and her people weren’t much better. Her shotgun wedding to Jonah Blake, which had upset all his plans for a bright future, had guaranteed the cycle would continue.
She hadn’t been surprised when Jonah left her and their son—he blamed them both for costing him a football scholarship and big-league career. Noah’s disappearance hadn’t been much of a shock, either, given the trouble he’d been in. She’d never known whether he started the fire at the school or not, and he hadn’t given her the chance to ask. Chet Hayes, county sheriff for the last twenty years now, had assured her he held proof of Noah’s guilt. Then he’d told her he didn’t want her anymore and walked out the door.
Her luck with men had always been lousy.
So her son had run away, left her by herself with a lousy job and no friends. A few phone calls—Christmas, her July birthday, sometimes Valentine’s Day—and a couple of letters a year had been the extent of his communication. Did he think she’d spent all these years, day by day, just waiting for him to come back?
That was exactly what she had done, of course. Only now he was here—a man she might not have recognized if she’d seen him on the street, with lines on his face and a hard look in his eyes—and she didn’t know him at all. She couldn’t find the boy she’d raised in his guarded expression. The words died in her throat when she tried to talk to him. Her son, the killer.
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