Deeper Than Need (17 page)

“You’re letting personal feelings get in the way.” Trinity stood up and reached for the invoice, plucking it off the desk. “It might be better if you let me handle it.”

He scowled at her.

“I can send a nice little letter. I can be courteous, polite and diplomatic.” She folded it into thirds and laid it across her lap, smiling at him. “You can sign off on it if it makes you happy. But if you go out there and she pulls a guilt trip or whatever, are you going to ask for the money she owes you, or shuffle your feet and walk away and give her more time?”

“She doesn’t pull guilt trips.”

Noah stared at a point past Trinity’s shoulder, feeling the tips of his ears burn red. Elsie
didn’t
pull guilt trips. She just talked about how nice the town used to be, and how she missed it, and how expensive things were and how she was just trying to preserve a piece of the past … and wouldn’t he just love a piece of lemon pie? Absolutely, she’d send some money on and she’d give him a check right now, although she certainly was tight for money considering how the economy was down.

He’d leave feeling like he’d just robbed the offering plate even though she’d never given him more than five hundred at a time and he knew for a fact there wasn’t a week when her B and B wasn’t at almost near capacity. Some people talked like she put crack in her waffles or something, because she just couldn’t keep people away.

Trinity laughed and Noah shot her a narrow look.

“What?” he asked defensively, although the sound of her laugh had something inside him drawing tight. Tight, hungry. He wanted to fist his hand in her hair, pull her up against him, one hand low on the curve of her hip just so he could start to learn the feel of her, and then he’d kiss her, soft and slow.

Stop it. Don’t think about that.
But it was too late. His blood was already pulsing heavy and slow through his veins, pressure building in his cock. Dropping into a chair, he slumped in an effort to hide it while Trinity just smiled at him.

“Here you are,” she said, laughter in her voice. “Warning me about that Leslie chick and you’re over there getting worked by what sounds like a con woman in an apron.”

“Elsie Darby doesn’t wear an apron.” He skimmed a hand back over his close-cropped hair and muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

He glared at her. “She probably still wears a crinoline, though. She dresses like June Cleaver. Pearls and all.”

“So, basically, you’re being conned by June Cleaver.”

“I said she
dresses
like June Cleaver.”

Trinity snickered. “I take it back. Maybe you are a pushover.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t met Elsie Darby.”

CHAPTER NINE

That damn house was cursed.

He knew all about the pantry, but he hadn’t ever thought there might be something hidden away inside it. In truth, he tried to avoid thinking about it all, although the nightmares still slid in

Nightmares of the times he’d been trapped there.

Hours spent in that little pit of hell, hard, greedy hands grasping at him, while his screams were silenced by a gag.

You go in there a boy.

Eventually, you’ll leave a man.

Then it will be your turn.

He’d been told those words so many times; even now, he heard them in his sleep. He could have happily cut the memories from his head with a rusty knife if it would have done any good.

It wouldn’t, though. Nothing dulled those memories. Nothing eased that horror.

Nothing erased the image of light flashing on pale skin or a startled, shocked gasp as she turned and their gazes locked. Right before she—

Stop.

He closed his eyes, shoved it all back. That wasn’t why he was here. Not now.

He was just waiting. Waiting. Watching.

But he didn’t know what he waited for.

Why he watched.

He just knew he couldn’t pull himself away.

*   *   *

“I can’t do that.”

“You will do it, Lee. I need this from you. You’re one of us. You’re obligated to help us.” The voice was low, polite and firm.

I’m not one of you!
He wanted to scream it. Wanted to sob it. It had been years since he’d escaped that hell. But deep down, in some dark, small place, he didn’t believe it. Swallowing, he huddled against the wall. If he could have disappeared inside it, he would have.

“Sir, they … People are watching that house. Really close. I can’t risk going in there and somebody seeing me.”

“You’ll just have to go at night. Tonight. Because it won’t be long before it’s released back to the owner. We have to make sure there are no signs left.”

“But…” He licked his lips. “Even if there were, the cops would have already taken anything.”

There was a low, soft laugh. “The cops wouldn’t even know what they were looking at. Come on now, Lee. Do this. For me. You’re one of us … don’t ever forget.”

You’re one of us.

Those words, just like that, put him back there.

“Yes, sir,” he whispered, feeling like all the years had faded away and he was trapped. Once more.

As he hung up the phone, Lee Brevard asked himself for the millionth time why he stayed here. He should have left. Should have run, far and hard and fast; that was what David had done, he bet. Some people talked like he was dead, but if Lee was going to run away he’d make people think
he
was dead, too.

Somehow.

David had been a lot smarter than Lee.

In the silence of his little apartment, Lee slid down to the floor and started to cry.

*   *   *

“Hank … are you okay?”

Leaning against the doorway, Hank Redding glanced over his shoulder at his wife. Tina didn’t know just how much he loved her, and he knew that was his own fault. He’d been trying the past few months to do a better job of showing her. He’d stopped running around on her more than a year ago, and he’d stopped gambling down over at Belterra.

The woman had no idea the mess she’d taken on when she married him. Part of him wished he’d never pulled her into the disaster that was his life, but if he hadn’t, well, he wouldn’t have Esme.

Even as much as he hated the fact that he’d cheated on his wife, he had two other children he loved. Two more kids he was responsible for. It had all but broken her heart when he’d told her but Tina had given him another chance. She hadn’t walked out. Tina, God love the woman, she showed those children all the love she had in her heart, and she insisted he stand by them, be a father to those kids.

A good woman.

Too good for the likes of him, a fact that he knew all too well. But he was trying. Trying to be a better husband and a good dad, to all three of his kids, Esme and the twins.

Right now, he stood in the doorway, watching as Esme slept, tangled in a bright yellow blanket, a stuffed bear clutched in one hand. “She’s a beauty,” he said, keeping his voice low as Tina came to stand by him.

She smiled and leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. The toddler in bed looked more like Tina than him and he thanked God Almighty for that fact. Esme was precocious and smarter than he could ever hope to be. The only thing he wanted in life was for his kids to grow up and be better than he was. Of course, that wouldn’t take much.

“She is. The preschool teacher heard her reading today,” Tina murmured.

Hank swung his head around, staring at his wife.
“Reading?”
Gaping, he shook his head. “She’s not even three. How can she be reading?”

“I don’t know, baby. But it was a new book … they’d just gotten it in. None of the kids had a chance to have it read to them before and we hadn’t ever read it to her, either. She sat over in the corner sounding out the words. I listened to her myself. She’s teaching herself to read.”

“Wow.” He rubbed the growth of beard coming in on his chin and muttered to himself. “Teaching herself to read. Man, Tina. I was almost in second grade before I could read more than a few words. She gets that from you, you know.”

She jabbed him with her elbow. “She gets her stubbornness from you.”

“I hope that’s the
only
thing she gets from me.”

A few moments of silence passed while the edgy, antsy tension that had nagged him all day boiled higher and higher. It had been building for the past couple of days, but today it was worse. Worse than it had been in years, if he was honest with himself.

He needed to do something to let it out before he exploded, before he went and did something he’d regret, before he turned into somebody he just wasn’t anymore.

Hank turned and caged Tina up against the wall, dipping his head to nuzzle her neck. “I was thinking I might run over to Shakers for a while. I need a drink. Need to clear my head.”

She stiffened and slowly he pulled back, watching as she looked up at him through her lashes.

“I just want a beer,” he said softly, understanding the doubt in her eyes. “I … shit.”

He’d tried to tell. His parents … and they hadn’t believed him, not entirely. They couldn’t believe it,
wouldn’t
believe it. Part of him understood, now. It had to hurt, especially his mother. How could she believe that of her father? How could anybody want to believe that about their parent?

Hank’s grandfather, the fine, upstanding Luis Sims, elder at the First Christian, banker, all-around good guy, surely wasn’t that kind of monster. Even after all of this time, Hank remembered how much it had to hurt to try to tell them. They had stared at him, in horror, in shock. He’d mentioned just the one name, hadn’t dared mentioned the other man, although he’d wanted to. For years, seeing that man in town had made Hank’s skin crawl. When he’d disappeared, it had been a blessing.

It just hadn’t come soon enough.

Hank’s parents had understood, even though they hadn’t believed him, that something was wrong. They’d tried to get him help—
help.
That had just made things worse. He’d almost ended up killing himself over that
help.
That was what had made his parents really take action, but the hell had lasted for another four months.

After that, he’d promised himself he’d never tell another.

Then Tina had come along. He’d loved her, so much. From the very beginning. He hurt her, emotionally, time and again, and he knew it, hated it. Finally, he made himself tell her, stripped himself bare and told her everything.

He made himself tell her what kind of man she’d fallen in love with. Then he waited for her to leave him.

Instead, she’d wrapped her arms around him and cried with him.

She
had believed him. Accepted him. Loved him enough to take all the broken, battered pieces of him. Then she started to put him back together.

It wasn’t until then that he started to understand, that he started to accept. Heal. He hadn’t done a damn thing wrong back then. All the wrongs had been done
to
him.

Turning away, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Everybody is talking about the … the body they found. Talking like it could be—” He stopped and swallowed, unable to even say the name.

“It could be somebody else entirely,” Tina said, her voice gentle. “You can’t keep letting this haunt you, Hank. It’s not good for you. For us.”

Something that might have been a laugh caught in his throat. He swallowed it back down because if he let it loose he didn’t know if it
would
be a laugh. It just might be a sob. Maybe one of the screams he’d kept trapped inside him for so long. “I know that, Tina. I know. I just … I need to think. Be alone a bit. I feel like I’m going to come out of my skin. If it’s—” He had to bite his cheek to keep from saying the name. He didn’t want that ugliness inside his home. He’d finally started to heal from all of that and to bring it here, now … no. This wasn’t good. “I worry, you know. If that is who it is, will people find out? What will they think? How will I handle it?”

Tina wrapped her arms around him. “You’re going to be fine,” she murmured against his skin. “You made it this far. No matter what they find out, you’re going to be fine. I’ll be right here.”

He wished he could be as certain as she was.

Pressing his head against her shoulder, he held her close. They stood like that for a minute and then she pulled away, squeezed his shoulder. “If you want to go down to Shakers, go on, sugar. I have a new book I want to read.” She gave him a smile and headed down the hall. Over her shoulder, she called out, “I never could read very well with you here. You’re always trying to distract me anyway.”

*   *   *

Three amber bottles lined up in front of him.

Hank was tucking away his fourth and battling back the storm of memories.

Travis, you have to understand, your son needs help.
Peter’s voice, calm and reassuring.
I know what I’m doing.

Hank had listened to the voices, frozen in terror. Travis and Gillian Redding had told their son to remain upstairs, but he’d crept down to the landing, listened.

Hank isn’t doing any better, Pete. You said it would take time and we tried to give it time, but no more,
Gillian had said. She’d looked up, then. Looked up, seen Hank. And in the back of her eyes he saw the guilt. The guilt, the fear … the worry. Now, after twenty-some years, he had to admit, he knew what that look in his mother’s eyes had meant—she had been afraid. Had her son been right? Had she refused to see a monster who’d been right in front of her?

Gillian, you have to be firm with children. You’ve let him have his head for too long and now he needs help.
Diane—

That’s enough,
Gillian had interrupted.
You two need to leave. We’ve talked about it and it’s done. Hank isn’t doing therapy anymore and we won’t be returning to your church anymore. He gets too upset around you.

He never did know what his parents had chosen to believe. He didn’t want to know. They’d taken whatever truths they’d consoled themselves with to their graves, but whatever they’d chosen to believe was far, far from the real truth and he knew it.