Buddy peeled off his sweat-stained
shirt and tossed it on the floor, then unsnapped his pants. Damn, it was a
hot night. Humid and sultry. Good sign that it would rain by morning. Rain
was exactly what they needed to lower the temperature and ease the humidity.
What he personally needed was a
cold beer and then a good night's sleep. Today had been one hell of a day.
He had been preparing himself for over a week now, steeling his nerves
for the moment he would have to read Lane her rights and take her into
custody. For a couple of minutes there this afternoon at the Nobles'
house, he had thought Johnny Mack was going to jump him. If looks could
kill, he would be a dead man now. The thought that someone he had once
tried to kill was now rich and powerful sure had a way of putting the fear
of God into him. And arresting Lane only added to his crimes against
Johnny Mack.
But a man did what a man had to do.
Arresting Lane was part of his job. Sure, he could have sent someone else
to actually do the deed, but he thought he owed Lane that much-to arrest
her himself.
Scratching his hairy chest, Buddy
sauntered out of the bedroom, down the hall and into the kitchen. Since
light from the living room partially illuminated the kitchen, he
didn't bother turning on the overhead fluorescent fixture. He opened
the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of Budweiser and popped the lid. After
taking a long, refreshing swig, he searched the cabinets for a can of
something he could empty onto a plate and stick in the microwave. He
lifted a can of spaghetti and meatballs from the cupboard, then rummaged
through a bottom drawer for a can opener.
He liked Lane. He always had.
Even when they'd been kids. What wasn't there to like? Lane was a good person
who had married a very bad person and ruined her life. He felt sorry for
her, but what could he do? He couldn't go against Miss Edith. He couldn't
jeopardize all that he had built in this community. If Edith Ware wanted
Lane tried for Kent's murder, then that's the way it would be.
Buddy just hoped that Quinn Cortez
was as good as his reputation. That being the case, then Lane would go
free, and most of Noble's Crossing would still think she was guilty. After
that, he could issue a statement that the police department would continue
the investigation, searching for other suspects, but eventually he
would see to it that Kent's murder became another unsolved crime.
Just as Buddy found the can opener
and removed it from the drawer, he heard a series of soft, rapid knocks
at his back door. Who the hell? It was nearly eleven-thirty.
He went to the door, looked through
the glass panes and saw the shadowy figure of a woman. What the hell was
she doing here? He unlocked and then opened the door. Edith Ware rushed
inside and slammed the door behind her.
"You said that I knew where
you lived when I was interested in finishing what we started." She
slithered her bejeweled fingers from his collarbone to his belly button.
"Well, I've had a very good day today, and I want to celebrate."
Her hand sneaked beneath his boxer shorts and dove straight to his penis.
"I'm ready to finish what we started."
When her small, warm hand circled
him, Buddy grew hard as a rock in five seconds flat. He hated Miss Edith. Hated
her for being partly responsible for Mary Martha's pitiful condition.
Hated her for having protected a lying, miserable son of a bitch like
Kent. Hated her for trying to crucify a good woman like Lane.
And he hated her for making him
want her.
He felt like a damn fool. Miss
Edith was old enough to be his mama. But there was nothing motherly about
Edith Ware. Even at sixty, she wasn't anything more than a rich bitch in
heat.
Buddy grabbed Edith by the hair of
her head, dragged her over to the kitchen table and lifted her up and on
top of the vinyl table cloth. He forced her legs apart, hiked up her white
linen skirt and wasn't surprised to find that she wore neither stockings
nor panties. Still gripping her head with one hand, he slipped his hand
between her legs. When his fingers covered her mound, he encountered
smooth flesh. She shaved her pubic hair.
"Bitch!" He freed his sex
from his briefs, then took a good look at the woman spread out before
him. In the shadowy dimness of the kitchen, it would be easy enough to
pretend that she was Mary Martha.
She shuddered as if just the contemplation
of what he was about to do excited her. When he rammed himself to the hilt
within her, she grabbed his buttocks and issued a demand.
"Fuck me good and hard!"
Chapter 15
A horde of reporters awaited
them when they emerged from the county courthouse where Judge Harper
had apprised Lane of the formal charges against her-felony murder. Bail
was set at a hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and the trial was slated
to begin on October 2. This was a high-profile case, with both the victim
and the defendant well-known in the community. Quinn had made it clear
to Wes Stevens that there would be no plea bargaining because his client
was innocent. And Quinn had assured Lane that in a case such as hers, involving
circumstantial evidence, the burden of proof would most definitely
be on the state.
"And they can't prove, beyond
a reasonable doubt, that you murdered your ex-husband," he had
told her.
The morning rain had left the streets
and sidewalks wet, with iridescent puddles of water and oil glistening
on the concrete. Gray clouds obscured the afternoon
sun, casting a gloominess over
the town that matched Johnny Mack's deadly mood. He understood exactly
why Lillie Mae was considering confessing to Kent's murder. Hell, if
he*d been in town when it happened, he would confess himself, to spare
Lane the misery she was enduring.
Although she was beautiful in her
simple tan slacks and white cotton shirt, she wore no makeup, which brought
attention to the dark circles under her eyes. She looked so tired. So
fragile. So in need of a strong shoulder to lean on. And he was determined
that no matter how much she protested, he was going to be that strong shoulder.
Quinn warded off the press, answering
some questions with a smile and others with a growl, while Johnny Mack
protected Lane. Holding her around the waist, he lifted his other hand
in a warning signal to Back Off and blasted the crowd with his killer stare.
As if understanding they were in danger of being annihilated, the reporters
allowed Johnny Mack to lead Lane through their clamoring crowd and out
to his waiting Lincoln Continental, which he had rented earlier today.
No need to hide his wealth at this point, since everyone in town knew he
was worth millions.
Once inside the vehicle, Johnny
Mack leaned over and fastened Lane's safety belt. Without conscious
thought, he brushed the loose strands of blond hair off her cheek and tugged
them behind her ear. Any excuse to touch her. If he did what he really
wanted to do, he would lift her onto his lap and wrap his arms around her.
Then he would take a M-16 and blow the reporters to smithereens. Outside
the safety of his car, news-hungry vultures from local, state and national
television and newspapers surrounded them. Even reporters and photographers
from the local Herald. Miss Edith's doing. He would bet his life on it. As
co-owner of the town's newspaper, she had probably cracked the whip, issuing
orders to cover the news, regardless of the fact Lane's arrest was that
news.
Johnny Mack watched Lane as she
gazed at the marauders shouting questions at her, while the force of
their combined bodies actually swayed the big car. Damn fools!
"Please, get me out of here."
Lane's voice held a hint of hysteria. Her large blue eyes pleaded.
Johnny Mack inserted the key, started
the motor and shifted into Reverse. When he revved the engine, the reporters
backed away a couple of feet. Before they had a chance to regroup and
swarm forward again, he pressed down on the accelerator and whipped the
car out of the parking lot adjacent to the courthouse. Within minutes
they were flying up Riverton Street, heading away from downtown.
"Did Will go to school today?"
Lane asked.
Johnny Mack remained focused on
the road, but he caught a glimpse of Lane in his peripheral vision.
He could almost feel the tension in her body as she sat there, ramrod
straight, a doomed expression on her face.
"He didn't want to go, but Lillie
Mae convinced him that it was what you'd want him to do."
"Bless Lillie Mae. She seems
to know exactly how to handle Will."
"She uses guilt to make him
tow the line," Johnny Mack said. "All she has to do is mention to
him that she knows he doesn't want to disappoint you. I can see how important
it is to him to please you. That boy loves you, Lane. He'd do just about anything
for you."
"Yes, he probably would. Just
as I'd do anything for him."
"Is there any chance that
Will might have killed Kent… killed him for you?"
Lane gasped. Johnny Mack stole a
quick glance at her. What little color she'd had in her cheeks disappeared.
"I don't ever want to hear you
say such a thing again." Lane reached over, laid her hand on Johnny
Mack's arm and manacled his biceps. "If there's ever the slightest
suggestion that Will might have killed Kent, I'll confess and put an end
to it immediately."
Johnny Mack slowed the car's speed
from forty-five to thirty and began looking for a place where he could
pull off the road. If he remembered these streets correctly, he wasn't
far from the turnoff to the town's Spring Park.
"What are you doing?" Lane
asked. "I thought you were taking me home."
"I am," he said.
"But I think we need to take a short detour for a few minutes and
discuss Will. In private. There's something you haven't told me about
my son, isn't there?"
Johnny Mack slowed to fifteen miles
an hour as he circled tile nearly empty park. A couple of joggers and
three elderly walkers made use of the dirt track, while geese and ducks
swam in the pond and waddled about near the road. After easing the Lincoln
into one of the gravel drives, he killed the motor and turned to Lane.
"Did Will kill Kent?"
When Lane avoided making eye contact,
he knew for certain that this was a subject she did not want to discuss.
Her continued silence seemed like an admission of the boy's guilt.
Had Will bludgeoned Kent to death with his baseball bat? Was Lane protecting
her son, at the cost of her own freedom?
"Answer me, Lane." Twisting
sideways in his seat, he reached over and grabbed her chin, forcing her
face up, but still she refused to look at him. "Dammit, woman, your
silence is more damning than words."
Her hot gaze flashed a warning
that he'd have to be a fool not to recognize. A sign of maternal protection.
"Drop it. Now. Will didn't kill Kent. He was with Lillie Mae when it happened.
She wasn't feeling well and-"
"That's what y'all told the police,
but is that the way it really happened?"
Lane undid her seat belt, unlocked
the car door and shoved it open. Johnny Mack reached out to restrain
her, touching her hip, but she slipped through his fingers and ran from
the car. Dammit! What was wrong with her? Why was she running from him? Him
of all people. Didn't she realize that she could tell him the truth, share
the deepest, darkest secrets, and he would keep her trust? She would always
be safe with him.
He had come home to help her. To
help her and Will. If their son had killed Kent, he couldn't help the boy unless
he knew the truth.
After disengaging himself from
his seat belt, he opened the door and quickly followed her. Taking rapid
strides, he caught up with her on the small bridge that separated the
north side of the park from the south side. She stopped running, leaned
over the railing and stared into the algae-thick pond, which was fed by an
underground spring. He didn't have to see her eyes to know she was crying.
Her slender shoulders trembled. Silent tears.
He came up behind her and engulfed
her in his arms, holding her there, her back to his chest. She shuddered
and released a long, loud sigh. Mournful. Agonized. Desperate.
"It's all right, babe,"
he whispered in her ear as he nuzzled her neck. "We don't have to talk
about it now. But soon. When you're ready. No matter how bad it is, I'll move
heaven and earth to help you and Will."
She swallowed the lump of emotion
lodged in her throat. "You-you really mean that, don't you?" She
draped her arms over his where they crisscrossed at her waist.
"I know my past record isn't
very good, but I'm not the same selfish, cocky boy who left town fifteen
years ago. I've matured and hopefully gained a little wisdom along the
way." With the utmost gentleness, he turned her in his arms until
she faced him. "The way I see it, you and Will are my family. And a man-
a real man-protects what's his. He keeps them safe, at any cost."
"Will is your son… your family.
But I'm only Will's adoptive mother, not-"
"Shush."
Her bright blue eyes looked up at
him, and for a split second he saw the same expression he had seen when
she'd been nineteen and had begged him to take her with him when he left
town. Hope. Love. Those sentiments shined in her eyes. But within an instant,
those beautiful emotions disappeared, replaced with uncertainty
and sadness.