Deception (47 page)

“I’m not a psychiatrist, and my opinion is strictly prejudiced, so it isn’t worth hearing. Let’s talk about facts. This woman you say attacked you—how is it possible for her to be at the wedding when no one saw her but you?”

“There’s a secret passage to the third floor. I found the dress in an old trunk up there. There are other things I’ve found, too. I got an invoice today for the black wedding dress. Clay signed it.”

There was a pause. “We need to get you out of there. Tonight. I never believed Talla when she said there was someone haunting Oaklawn.” Harlan sounded genuinely contrite. “I knew she was drinking and taking pills, and I never believed her. She said there was someone else in the house, someone who meant her harm.”

“This Melanie person, did she die before or after Talla?”

“After. What are you thinking?”

“I asked Clay about her. He insisted she was still alive. He swore she was out in California and that she was fine. He said he had letters from her to prove that she was okay.”

“Impossible. That girl is dead. She went into a coma after the fall. I saw her at Greenbriar Hospital, and she was in terrible condition. All broken up.” He hesitated. “Before she went into a coma, she swore she was pushed off the roof.”

“Pushed? Did she say who pushed her?”

“She was in such pain that they wouldn’t let her talk. Shortly after they gave her something to ease her suffering she went into a coma. She died two days later without ever naming her assailant. No one claimed the body. There was apparently no family, so I had her buried. I can assure you, she’s dead.”

“I don’t believe you.” Connor wanted to scream, but she didn’t. If Melanie was dead, then everything Clay had said was a lie. The photographs—all a lie to trick her into marriage. Why? Why? She had to have some answers.

“Call the hospital, Connor. Ask them. They’ll tell you that a young woman named Melanie Banks died there, in July.”

“Hospital records can be forged. You’re a doctor! You could do that!”

“The girl is dead. If you don’t believe me, I can take you to the grave. I might be able to forge a hospital record, but I can’t fabricate a grave. Take my word about this and think of your own safety. You have to get out of Oaklawn, Connor. Tonight.”

“I’m not leaving until I find out who’s behind this. Everyone who’s involved.”

“Even if it’s Clay?”

Tears dripped off Connor’s chin. “I love Clay. This is all so crazy. How can I love someone who may be trying to hurt me?”

“Connor, get out of Oaklawn. Give yourself some time to think. If you put some distance …”

“Distance won’t solve this, Harlan. Running won’t, either. If there’s something wrong with Clay, I’m going to find out.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want? I tried to warn you about getting involved in this family. I did everything I could to discourage you.”

“I
am
involved. And I want some answers.”

“If I show you Melanie’s grave, will you swear to leave Oaklawn?”

“Why are you so worried about me?”

“If something happens to you, they’ll have to reopen Talla’s death. This whole can of worms will be exposed. I have no love for my brother, but he’s too close to power. And as I told you before, I need that power. I’ve gotten myself into some trouble. Serious trouble with my medical license. Clay, if he’s elected, can prevent them from taking my license. Is that clear enough for you to understand?”

“I want to see her grave.” It would be the one thing that convinced her Harlan wasn’t lying. He was right, he couldn’t fabricate a grave in an hour.

“Meet me at the Shady Vale cemetery? Bring a flashlight, and wait for me at the gate.”

“I’ll bring a flashlight and a gun. Just for the record, I know how to use one and I won’t hesitate.”

“You still suspect that I’m somehow behind this, don’t you?”

“At this point, I suspect everyone.”

“Honest to a fault, Connor. That’s a serious problem for a candidate’s wife. Give me half an hour and I’ll be there.”

Connor replaced the phone. What if Melanie wasn’t dead? What if she and Clay … but why had he married her? Why? Talla had a family, money, influence. Connor brought none of those things to the marriage. And she’d certainly put no pressure on Clay to marry. In fact, he’d put the heat on her. Why? If he hadn’t wanted to marry, why had he insisted on it?

It wasn’t an obsession. She thought of the physical reaction they had to each other. No man had ever ignited such a response from her. And the fire was mutual. All they had to do was look at each other. But that wasn’t obsessive. No, Harlan was wrong.

She telephoned Willene and told her not to hold dinner but to serve the children. Opening the desk drawer, she removed the revolver that was kept there. She made sure the clip was full, then checked on Cleo one more time before she turned out the lights in the barn. Instead of walking to the house, she drove. There were several highpowered flashlights in the house, and she wanted one of those if she was going to meet Harlan Sumner in a cemetery.

Willene and the children were in the dining room talking about Cleo. Connor paused for a moment, listening to the soothing tones of Willene’s voice as she told the children the horse would be fine. Connor found a big flashlight in her room and left without making any noise. It would be better if everyone thought she was still at the barn.

The drive to the cemetery took twenty-five minutes. She had time to kill while she waited on Harlan. She twisted her wedding band, aware for the first time that it felt strange on her finger. Talla’s ruby ring was still on her pinky. In the horror of the day she’d forgotten to take it off.

As she waited for headlights to approach on the dark country road, she thought of the photographs again. If Melanie was dead, who had sent them? It had to be Clay. But why? She wanted to howl the question into the night.

And who was the woman in the woods?

Headlights cut the blackness and her tormented thoughts. As soon as Harlan got out of his car, she joined him.

“Melanie Banks is dead, Connor. I hope this proves something to you.”

“Maybe.” She wasn’t certain what she hoped to discover. “Let’s go.”

Harlan led the way through the deserted cemetery. Shady Vale was far outside the city limits, and there were no streetlights. Connor’s flashlight outlined the gravel paths that led among the plots. Most of the graves were marked only with slabs, but there were a few monuments on older graves.

When the light caught an angel, larger than life with both arms severed, Connor gasped. It was a gruesome apparition.

“She’s right around here.”

“How did you know where her grave was?” Harlan cleared his throat. “I came out once to bring flowers.”

“And Clay? Did he ever come out here?”

“As far as I know, he didn’t. Maybe he liked the fantasy that she was alive and going to school in California.”

“And she had no family?”

“None that I could find.” Harlan’s voice was clipped. “It’s here.”

The grave was marked only by a slab with grass creeping over it. Connor knelt and pulled the roots away.

“Melanie Anne Banks. Born October 22, 1972. Died July 19, 1992.”

A fierce sadness swept over Connor. She traced the young woman’s name with her fingertip. Whoever had been at Oaklawn, it wasn’t Melanie Banks. So who had sent the photographs to Clay and used the big initial M?

Connor stood and allowed Harlan to take her arm as they started back toward their vehicles. A hoot owl cried in the night, apparently disturbed by their presence.

Connor told Harlan about the photos. “That was one reason Clay wanted to marry so fast.”

Harlan’s hand on her arm was light. “This is like his first marriage happening all over again. I wouldn’t worry about the photographs. Once you’re gone, Clay will destroy them.”

“I can’t believe he’d do something like that.” Even as she spoke, Connor heard the lack of conviction in her voice.

“He would and he has.” Harlan opened her truck door. “I’m going to follow you back to Oaklawn. I want you to pack a few things, and then I’ll see you to the airport. I don’t care where you go, I want you gone.”

“I’m not running away.”

“You’d rather stay here and risk your life?” Harlan grabbed her arm. “This isn’t a situation where you have any control. Clay isn’t the man you think he is. He never has been. The only thing you can do is protect yourself.”

“I’m not leaving.” Connor jerked her arm free and slid into the truck. “Clay’s gone. I don’t know where he is or what he’s up to, but he won’t bother me tonight.”

“If I hear from him, I’ll call you.” Harlan put his hand on the steering wheel. “I never disliked you personally, Connor. In fact, I admire you. You’re strong. You’ll get over this.”

“Call me if you hear from Clay.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Protect my horses. Try to find some answers.”

“Watch your back. That’s all I can tell you. And don’t trust anyone.”

“That makes me feel a lot better.”

“It’s designed to keep you alive.”

Connor steeled herself against the overwhelming despair she felt as she turned into the driveway to Oaklawn. Only a few hours before, coming home would have been an occasion for joy and expectation. Now Oaklawn represented fear and danger and turmoil. What was happening around her? There had to be answers. And Clay had them. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, she had to find him.

Gusts of wind punished the bare hardwood trees and bent the more limber pines as Connor drove slowly up the drive. A glimmer of lights in the distance marked Oaklawn. Willene had turned on all the porch lights. The weight of responsibility was a stone on Connor’s heart. They were waiting for her to return and reassure them. Who else did they have to rely on? The savage attack on Cleo had distressed Danny terribly. And Renata? A child that she’d wrongly accused of terrible deeds—she’d seen more than enough violence and destruction for one so young. A sense of protectiveness came over Connor and she pressed the gas pedal a little harder. Whatever was happening, the children were innocent victims. No matter what the outcome, they had to be protected.

Taking the last curve, Connor was almost to the house. The truck lights swung over the white oak tree where the infamous James Dickerson had been hanged. Instead of bare branches, there was a body hanging in the tree.

Connor’s foot found the brake and slammed it down as her hands gripped the steering wheel. The truck fishtailed in the shells and gravel, the rear end swinging around almost ninety degrees before it came to a stop. Panting, Connor threw the truck in reverse and spun gravel, backing up until her lights once again illuminated the tree.

“No.” The word was a whisper. “No. Please, no.” Connor stared at the man hanging from the oak. The body twisted in the wind, a macabre winter dance of death. His arms hung at his side. The only movement was caused by the wind swinging him to and fro.

Her foot slipped off the clutch and the truck jumped forward and died. The revolver slid from the seat down into the floorboard as tree limbs raked at the windows. In a sudden panic, Connor restarted the engine, backed up, and roared toward the house. She stopped at the front steps and ran up them, pounding on the door in her terror.

“My lord, Connor, what’s wrong?” Willene opened the door with fear plain on her face. “What’s happened? Where have you been? Is it the horse?”

“There’s someone hanging in the oak tree. A body.” Connor looked behind Willene to find Renata standing in the hallway. Her hair was brushed and shining, and she already wore her nightgown. Her hands clutched a stuffed white bear with a stocking cap that she’d gotten for Christmas, and she stared at Connor with a bloodless face and wide eyes.

Willene looked over her shoulder. “Renata, I thought you’d gone upstairs to do your homework.” She hurried to the child and pulled her into her arms. “That silly Connor is seeing things. There’s no one hanging in the tree. It’s just the wind and Connor’s imagination.”

“I’ve seen him there,” Renata said slowly. “Hilla told me about him and how they killed him here. She said he’d be back.” Her voice had a hollow, distant sound.

“That’s a legend, sweetie.” Willene pulled the little girl to her bosom and held her. She looked at Connor, her face drawn tight with worry and anger.

“Renata, it’s just a story. You know how we like to tell stories around here. I was making up a story.” Connor fumbled through the excuse, her voice as strained with fear and anxiety as Renata’s. “It’s only a story.”

“But it’s true.” Renata pushed away from Willene. She looked at Connor. “Hilla said you betrayed your blood. That’s why you see him now. Hilla said it would happen.”

“Have you … seen Hilla lately? Is she somewhere at Oaklawn?” Connor watched Renata’s face. There was an intensity in the young girl’s eyes.

“She’s gone. I don’t think I’ll see her again. After the wedding she said she’d leave because …”

“Because why?” Connor prodded.

“She said it was time.” Renata looked past Connor to the front lawn. “She said that it was time for justice.”

“Renata, it’s time for you to go to bed.” Willene nudged the young girl toward the stairs, her words gentle. “Have you finished that geography?”

“I want to see the hanging man.”

“No!” Willene’s voice was like a whip cracking. Once again it grew gentle. “There’s nothing to see. It’s all a story, and by tomorrow you’ll forget about it. Now, off to bed.”

“I’ll look out the window,” Renata said, turning to walk up the stairs.

“Look all you want to, there’s nothing there for you to see. There’s no man hanging in a tree at Oaklawn. You know your daddy wouldn’t let things like that go on here.”

Renata’s footsteps disappeared on the stairs while Willene and Connor listened.

“Get a flashlight,” Willene said sharply. “Let’s see what’s out in the yard. I can’t believe you’d come in here and say such a thing. Not after that little girl watched her mother hang herself.”

“He’s out there. I saw him.” Connor listened for Renata’s step on the stairs, but the hallway was quiet. “There’s a flashlight in the truck. Maybe we should call the police.” Connor found that her teeth were chattering.