Framed: A Psychological Thriller (Boston's Crimes of Passion Book 2) (7 page)

“I realize that witnessing that horrific scene must have brought back memories,” he said gently, ignoring her attempt at distancing herself from him. “Riley, one thing I’m not trying to negate is this…attraction between us, but I need to look into the possibility that Harrison Taylor was framed. It’s my job. My instincts tell me that you could help.”

The truth of his purpose resonated within her. Wasn’t that what she wanted over the years—for the truth to be told? Why then did it suddenly scare her? What if she didn’t want to know the truth? How could she live if the hope inside her was destroyed; if the truth wasn’t what she wanted it to be? What if it was worse than it was now?

She stared at the photo for a moment and then picked it up.
No, above all else, she needed the truth.

“What do you want to know?”

* * * *

“We can stop at any time.” Kincaid placed the digital tape recorder in front of Riley. “Tell me about Harrison Taylor.”

“I grew up with him.” She had a faraway look in her eye. “His grandmother was our live-in housekeeper. Momma died when I was too young to remember. Meme was like a surrogate mother and in a twist of fate, Daddy became Harrison’s surrogate father.”

“Why?”

She sighed heavily. “Daddy was devastated when Momma died. For years after, he buried himself in his work. We lived in the same house, but from what Meme told me, he hardly saw me. He left early in the morning and came home late at night.

“I grew up in the small community of Whipple. Northwest of Charleston, not far from the Wando River. It was Momma’s home. Daddy had our home built especially for Momma, a colonial-style house with two piazzas. Yellow, a lovely shade of pale yellow…large…too large, with enough extra room for both Meme and Harrison. They lived downstairs in the room by the kitchen, and then Daddy moved Harrison upstairs.”

“When did that happen?”

“My fifth birthday,” she said in her smooth, Southern drawl. “I was so excited. Nana had sent me this beautiful birthday dress. Somehow I got this idea that I was going to have a party. Meme tried to tell me. She baked me a cake, but I refused to blow out my candles until the guests arrived…I just knew Daddy had me a big surprise. He didn’t…he forgot…

“I was so upset I ran away.” She paused, as if collecting her thoughts. It took every bit of control to keep her welling emotions from exploding. “I ran out the back door, through our backyard and into the marsh. I kept running. I got lost. It got dark and I was so scared…so…so scared.

“I was wet, cold, and afraid an alligator was going to eat me. Then Harrison found me. There was a whole search team out there, but it was Harrison, who discovered where I was along with our family dog, Major. Harrison and Major stayed with me until they could locate us. He thought it best if we stayed put. I found out later it was because he came across an alligator while looking for me.

“He didn’t leave my side.” A sudden smile emerged. “Daddy was so excited to have found me, he scooped me up in his arms and hugged me so tight. He turned to Harrison and asked him why…why had he snuck out to look for me?

“Harrison said, ‘You don’t abandon family.’” She shivered on the remembrance. “Daddy changed after that. Of course, Meme lit into Daddy afterwards. Told him it was time to start living in the present. Then we became a family of sorts.”

He wrote notes as he watched her. Over the years, he had become good at reading people. Riley Ashcroft didn’t think Harrison capable of what he been accused of… It was evident she still thought of Harrison as a hero. Heroes didn’t commit murder.

Her voice injected the love she felt for the people she talked about: Daddy, Meme, Harrison, and Grandmother Carver. From the sound of it, Harrison seemed more like her brother. He lived in a room down the hall from her. They went to the same school. Her father even coached his Pop Warner football team.

In all the time she talked of her youth, she hadn’t mentioned her Boston family. His pen tapped on the table as he looked at her. “What of your grandfather, Walter Ashcroft, Sr. and your uncles?”

Her expression altered. “There was a time that Daddy was really close to his father and brothers, but that was before my Uncle Donald married Vivian. Things changed.”

Gesturing with her hand for him not to interrupt her, she pressed her lips together as if in thought. “Daddy was always close to Nana,” she clarified. “Nana called every day to talk to him…and me. I know she didn’t like Vivian either. I’m not sure exactly what the objection was by the rest of the family, but for me as a child, Vivian was cold and frightening.

“The woman never smiled or said a kind word to me. She has this long, pointed nose. As a child, I used to call her the Wicked Witch of the West.” Riley gave a small laugh. “I still do.”

“Why did the rest of the family dislike her?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. I remember on a visit to Boston, I heard Aunt Cora call her a slut. Later on, I thought it was because my cousin, Noah, was born three months after Donald announced they had married.”

“What did she do that split the family?”

“I’m not sure that she did,” Riley answered honestly. “I just remember that when she came into the family, everything changed.”

Kincaid nodded and noted the information. “How did it change?”

“Donald and Daddy didn’t talk anymore. He never visited and when we went north, he was never around. Grandfather and Daddy argued. Walter and Daddy became quite close. Walter came often to Charleston with his family…then that changed too…”

Riley winced. Kincaid said nothing, not wanting to press her. He was already forcing her to remember a difficult time. A moment later, she breathed out deeply.

“Shortly before Daddy died, Walter came down to the house, anxious and nervous because he had gotten himself into some financial trouble. Some investment that went wrong. He wanted Daddy to help him…go to Grandfather. Daddy did.

“That’s when everything exploded. Grandfather and Daddy had a big blowout. Daddy was angry…so angry. He told me that we weren’t going to see Grandfather anymore. Then the rumors started. The reporters were everywhere. Police…FBI…and then Harrison got arrested for murder.

“Daddy immediately started Harrison’s defense.” She stopped and looked directly into his eyes. “The papers crucified Harrison. Saying the most awful things. The day before Daddy died, the FBI came to the house and questioned him. I remember it was on a Sunday. They stayed all day. When they left, Daddy was in the worst mood.”

The reporter in him held back. He wanted to bombard her with a million questions. She had been so thorough with her details of her youth, but vague with the details leading up to her father’s death.

Instead, he asked gently, “What happened to you after your father’s death?”

“I went to live with Grandmother Carver.”

“And?”

“And what?” she asked curtly. “What do you want to know? That my Boston family left me with my poor, disabled grandmother…wanted nothing to do with me. I didn’t even see Nana again until I was a senior in high school…after Grandmother passed away.”

“Why?”

“How am I to know?” Her agitation clearly resonated in her tone. “Walter saw me at Daddy’s funeral. He told me that Daddy left me nothing because all his assets would have to be sold to cover what Daddy stole from Grandfather.

“After Grandmother Carver passed, one of Daddy’s former friends, Clayton Edmunds and his wife, Adele, offered me a place to stay through high school. He’s the one who reached out to Nana.”

“Then you moved to Boston?”

“I was a sophomore in college and transferred up to UMass Boston. Nana offered me a position as her companion. It was her way to get around Grandfather’s disapproval. No more than three months after I moved in with them, Grandfather dropped any opposition.”

He could see the frustration in her face and knew the interview was about to end. “What about Harrison and Meme? What happened to your relationship?”

She waved her hand in front of her face. “What was Meme going to do? She had to put all her time and energy to Harrison. She didn’t have time for my troubles. What could I do then? I was only fourteen. The world as I knew it was over.”

Kincaid realized he needed more information, but she had given him enough to move ahead. He said in a low, but soothing voice, “I’m going to make this right for you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Her words were still wary, but firm. “You can’t turn back time. I faced the truth a long time ago and if you want the truth, write this down. I don’t believe Daddy killed himself.”

“But you found him, Riley,” Kincaid said, regretting causing her hurt. “As difficult as it must be to acknowledge, no one has ever questioned that fact.”

“I did. I always have.”

He realized it was useless to argue over her father’s death. Suicides were the hardest deaths to accept. He knew that, but yet uttered, “I will look into it if you want when I go down to Charleston.”

“You are going to Charleston?”

“I can only do so much from here. I’ll make some calls. If things pan out, I’ll leave next week.”

* * * *

Riley hadn’t been prepared for the effect the interview had on her. She was exhausted, with a sudden realization she needed to be alone. As she relived the past, she came to the realization she had to keep her distance from Kincaid or she would end up in his arms, begging him to stay.

A part of her wanted him to comfort her like he had last night. To provide a warm, safe place for her to hide. She wanted to hide. She was scared, ever so scared, but she could never admit it to the man in front of her.

But she was no coward. The words of warning resonated within her: 
trust no one
.

She felt his eyes on her. Intense. Incredibly potent.

Slowly, he walked to her side. Softly, he brushed his fingertips over her lips. She closed her eyes. Before she could take her next breath, his mouth was on hers.

Their shared attraction flared. For a moment, everything was forgotten except his kiss, his touch…their desire.

Her name whispered on his lips. He broke from her and simply smiled, the intense passion still flaming in his eyes.

“I better go or I won’t,” he said in a low, deep voice. “I want to see you again…”

She took a deep breath, telling herself she couldn’t get involved with him. Not an investigative reporter. It was too dangerous. But he had a way of making her forget the possible consequences on acting on their desire for each other.

Riley said, “Saturday night. There is a gala at the Museum of Fine Arts. They are honoring Nana…if you want to come. It’s black tie.”

His lips twisted at the thought. “I believe I can make it. I’ll call you.”

She nodded, but he made no move toward the door. He laughed.

“I’ll need your number.”

“Of course,” she answered, feeling kind of foolish. “339-555-0520.”

A moment later, her phone rang. It rang again.

“Now, you have mine…if you want to talk.”

He sounded so sincere. She scolded herself for being such a ditz. She reached into her purse…and caught herself… She almost grabbed the wrong phone. She hesitated.

Quickly composing herself, she pressed a few buttons on the right phone. She smiled up at him. “I have it. Besides, I know where you work.”

“Yes, you do.” With that, he walked toward the door, glancing back only once with that smile that melted her soul.

He was gone.

It was quiet…too quiet. Looking out the window, she watched Kincaid round the corner of the house. He didn’t turn back. A part of her wanted him to turn around.

Get a grip! You don’t need him…you can’t lose your focus now. There is no going back.

She walked to the back door and let Bailey back into the house. As he romped happily beside her, Riley allowed her dog to jump on the couch and lay on her lap. Absentmindedly, she petted Bailey.

Tired, ever so tired.
She should take a nap, but she couldn’t. Not until she had some semblance of a plan. Everything had gone so awry.

For over twenty-four hours, she hadn’t been alone long enough to face the truth. Anger, slow and warm, swelled within her heart. Someone had murdered Helen.

Did they suspect what she had done? Would she be the next victim?

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Her heart leaped into her throat. She reached for her phone…the other phone.

“Yes, it’s true.”

“No, I’m fine. Truly, I am.”
There was a pause.
“I have it. It’s safe.”

The conversation ended, brief and to the point.

Riley placed the phone back in her purse and walked back into her bedroom. She loved this room, full of character from days gone by. The house used to be a stable. Her great-grandfather had it converted into an apartment.

She had furnished her bedroom with some of the antique furniture she had found in the attic, including an old vanity from the 1930s—a lovely piece of furniture with a rose bubble lamp on top of white croquet round doilies, alongside a tray of bottle perfumes and an attached mirror.