T
wenty-three
“Hey! Tall, sweaty guy!” Lorna called to T.J. from the end of the first row of trellises. When he turned around, she tossed him a bottle of water, and he caught it in one hand.
“Nice catch,” she told him. She gestured toward the section he’d been weeding. “Looking good.”
“These tall thorny things are murder to get out of the ground. There must be a million of them.” He took the top off the bottle and drank deeply. “Thanks for the water.”
“They’re some kind of thistle, I think.”
“They’re a pain in the ass by any name.” He mopped his forehead with the back of his forearm.
“You still determined to clear all this out before the frost hits?”
He nodded. “I
will
get it all cleared before the frost hits. Then, when spring comes around, I’ll be ready to put in my vines.”
“After having spent the winter months studying up on grapes and other related topics.”
“By this time next year, I’ll be conversant in all things grape. Types, soil requirements, pests—I will positively dazzle you with my knowledge.”
“I’m looking forward to being dazzled.”
He took off the heavy gloves he’d been wearing to weed out the worst of the overgrowth, and walked to the end of the row.
“Are you sure you won’t miss the excitement of law enforcement?” She watched him approach, her hands on her hips.
“I’ve had about all the excitement from that quarter that one lifetime can handle, thanks.”
“Even though the FBI’s still after you to re-up?”
“They’re wasting their time. I keep telling them that I’ll never go back. I don’t know what more I can say.” He took another drink from the bottle.
“Maybe someday you’ll trust me enough to tell me about that,” she said softly.
“What do you want to know?”
“What happened to make you lose confidence in yourself?”
“Oh. That. That’s an easy one,” he said matter-of-factly. “Teddy Kershaw. Lakeview, Georgia.”
“Who’s Teddy Kershaw?”
“Was,”
he said with emphasis. “Who
was
Teddy Kershaw is the question.”
“Okay. Who was he?”
“He was a serial killer. I’d been asked to develop a profile for the local PD. Which I did.” He stared at the ground.
“And?”
“And it was dead wrong. Well, not completely wrong. It was right, for the most part. I just got the most immediate part wrong.”
“Which was?”
“I told the cops the perp had to be Caucasian. All the vics had been white—white victims, white killer. Everybody knows that serial killers only target victims within their own race.” He shook his head. “How arrogant on my part, eh? Like I knew it all.”
“What happened?”
“Well, when the cops got a report of a man who’d been seen hanging around the neighborhood of three of the victims, I told them not to waste their time. ‘The guy described by the neighbors is African-American. Our serial killer is Caucasian.’ ”
He scuffed at the ground with the toe of his shoe, kicked a clod of dirt aside.
“So, armed with the gospel according to Saint Thomas Dawson, the Lakeview cops ignore the calls and keep on looking for this theoretical white killer. Three more women died before they caught Teddy. A black man. The same black man the cops had been alerted to ten days before.”
T.J.’s face had gone white under his tan. “Does that answer your question?”
“How many times had you been right?”
He brushed her off. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is that my know-it-all attitude cost three women their lives.”
“I’m sure you didn’t—”
“Didn’t mean to screw up? Tell that to the families of those three women.”
“T.J., I’m so sorry.”
“I’ll be sorry for the rest of my life. But I’ll never go back to the Bureau. I don’t even know why they’d want me.”
“Mitch says you’re really good.”
“Mitch is my friend. He has to say that.” He took one more drink, draining the bottle, then pitched it in the direction of the weed pile. “The bottom line is, I was responsible for the loss of innocent lives. I can’t change that, no matter how many times I wish I could go back to the moment I told the cops to ignore the reports. I have to live with that. But I won’t go back to the Bureau. I can find something else to do with my life.” He paused. “I
have
found something else to do with my life, and I like it. I like the physical work, I like the idea of growing something good, making something people will enjoy. That the end result of my hard work will be something tangible. I like that we’re doing this, the four of us.”
“I don’t know how much time the other two will have to devote to it after awhile. Mostly it’s going to be you and me.”
“Even better.” He smiled. Then, changing the subject, he asked, “How long do you think you’ll be in Woodboro?”
“Four days, at the most. I need to get back here as soon as possible. Remember, my brother will be coming home next week for the first time in years. I want to make sure the house is in order.”
“If there’s anything you want me to do while you’re gone, just say the word.”
“I will, thanks. It’ll be interesting to see how Rob feels, now that Mike Keeler is in jail and he doesn’t have that weight of secrecy around his neck. When I spoke with him the other night, he sounded really happy to be coming back. So I’d like his room freshened, that sort of thing. I can save some of the packing at my apartment for another trip, but I can’t put off the meetings I’ve set up with my clients. I need to tell them about the change in address and assure them that the service will remain the same high quality as always.”
“You’ll let me know if you need help packing things?”
“I should be fine on that score. My friend Bonnie will be over to help me sort through stuff and pack up the car. What furniture I don’t sell, I can have brought back by a small moving van. I don’t expect any problems.” She sighed. “You know, when I left here, I never thought I’d want to come back to live. Then after I got home, I didn’t want to leave. In spite of all the craziness—the bodies in the field, being shot at in the wine cellar, almost killed—I realized this really is my home. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to live anywhere else.”
“Funny, I’m starting to feel the same way.” He kissed the side of her mouth.
“I know you can do better than that, Dawson.”
He laughed and kissed her again, keeping her at arm’s length.
“Like you said,” he pointed out, “I am one tall, sweaty man. But I do clean up real good.”
“Well, clean up later, because Regan and Mitch will be along any minute. They’re both looking forward to working in the vineyard this weekend. I told Regan it was dirty work and there were thorns and bugs everywhere, but she said, ‘Cool. I can’t wait.’ ”
“We’ll see how long she lasts.”
“Don’t underestimate her. She’s a tough cookie. I could tell you some stories . . .”
The sound of a car door slamming near the barn drew their attention.
“I guess they’re here,” T.J. said. “Were they driving up together?”
“I don’t . . .” Lorna watched a dark-haired woman get out of the car and look around. “That’s not Regan. I’ll go see.”
As soon as Lorna got within fifty feet of the car, she knew exactly who her visitor was.
She stopped dead in her tracks and stared.
Melinda Eagan had grown tall and willowy, and was quite stylish in black pants and a short-sleeved white top. She had gold at her ears and on her wrists, and a gold and diamond wedding set on the ring finger of her left hand.
“Lori?” Melinda took a few tentative steps toward her.
“Mel. Oh, my God, Melinda. You really are alive.” Lorna walked toward her, both hands reaching out. “You really are here.”
“I’m sorry,” Melinda whispered as she took Lorna’s hands. “I’m so sorry for what I must have put you through all these years.”
“I’m just glad you’re safe. You’re alive.” Lorna squeezed Melinda’s hands. Both women began to tear up.
Melinda smiled. “You grew up to be so pretty.”
“So did you.”
“I heard about everything that happened here. About Jason.” Her eyes reflected her sorrow. “I wasn’t surprised to hear what happened to him. I was only surprised that she hadn’t done it.”
“Mellie, how did you do it?” Lorna asked. “How did you manage to disappear without a trace for all those years?”
“Easier than you’d think. Once I found out about my father . . .”
“What about your father? I thought he left when you were a year old?”
“Buddy Eagan was not my father.”
Lorna’s jaw dropped.
“Hey, no one was more surprised than I was. I had no idea. I simply thought he didn’t care about us and left, like my mother told us. When Danielle approached me at school at the end of third grade and started saying things like how she was my cousin and I didn’t know who my real daddy was, I thought it was just an older girl doing something to tease one of the little kids. When she asked me if I wanted to go to her house to meet him, I got real curious, and I went, thinking it was basically her being goofy.”
She crossed her arms over her chest.
“It wasn’t a hoax. It seems my mother had had an affair with Claude Fleming and I was the result. She told him, but he wasn’t about to go up against Buddy over it, so he left town, moved to Lancaster. I guess it began to bother him, though, knowing he had a child in Callen that he didn’t even know. Years later, after he’d married and started a family, he told his wife about me. She thought he ought to know his child, so she encouraged him to find me. When he found out that Danielle and I went to the same school, he asked her to get to know me a little. Then she told me she’d heard her mother and her uncle talking about me being his daughter. The next thing I knew, I was seeing him on weekends at Danielle’s house. He wanted me to meet his wife and kids, so I figured, why not. I started spending weekends in Lancaster—oh, my mother thought I was at Danielle’s, but she didn’t really care where I was, as long as I wasn’t in her hair. Anyway, that’s how I met my dad, and my stepmother.”
“And your mother never knew?”
“Never had a clue. I’m sure it never occurred to her that my father would want me, or that anyone except her and Dad knew that he was my real father. She had no idea that my new friend, Danielle, was his niece. There’d been no reason for Billie to tell anyone about him, and sometimes even now I wonder if she remembered that I was his daughter. I don’t know what she’s like these days, but back then, she was either working or drinking. That was pretty much it.”
She brightened slightly. “In contrast, my father’s house was always calm and quiet and clean, and they made me feel very welcome. I had a little sister and baby brother, and there was none of the chaos I’d been living in. When my dad found out he was going to have to move to Michigan for work, he couldn’t leave me behind. He and his wife talked it over, and they wanted me to go with them. They knew what had been happening at home. He wasn’t about to move out of state and leave me with Billie.”
“And you wanted to go?’
“Are you kidding?” Melinda laughed. “I felt like I was living two totally different lives. I couldn’t wait to get away from her. I felt bad about leaving Jason behind, but I figured he was fourteen already, he’d be out of the house soon enough. Mom had made it pretty plain she wished she’d never had either of us. I didn’t see where it would make much difference to her.”
“And your father didn’t think he should tell her he was taking you?”
“He said she didn’t deserve me. That she’d never given me much of a proper home, and if she missed me at all, it was just too bad for her.”
“He could have tried to get custody of you legally.”
“I don’t think it occurred to him to do that, things were happening too fast. He didn’t have a lot of time before he had to leave for the new job, and some years later, he said that back then it was a hassle for a father to get custody. So he had simply asked me if I wanted to go, and I said yes.”
“How did you do it?” Lorna asked, fascinated. “How did you pull it off without anyone knowing?”
“It was simple, really. It was my birthday, remember?”
Lorna nodded. She’d never forgotten.
“I wanted to tell you, I wanted to say good-bye. I thought about you so often, when I was in Michigan, but I knew I could never get in touch with you.”
“I don’t know how I could have kept that secret, Mel,” Lorna admitted. “Especially from my mother.”
“My stepmother figured as much, and she said I couldn’t put you in that position. She was right,” Melinda nodded, “but it was still hard. Anyway, about that night. I knew my brother wasn’t going to walk me all the way back home, he never did. My dad was going to meet me a half mile down the road from our house, so when Jason stopped at Matt’s, I just kept going. That’s why it was so important to me to wear my birthday dress. It was the only thing I wanted to take with me.”
A cloud passed over Melinda’s face.
“Unfortunately, while I was running across the field, I bumped into Mike Keeler. Literally.” She shivered. “He dropped what he was carrying and took off after me. I managed to get away. I ran and hid in our secret place.”
“The wine cellar.”
Melinda nodded. “It started getting cold, so I wrapped myself in one of the blankets we left there, and I waited until I thought he was gone. I folded the blanket real small and took it, and I crept back through the field. I was scared to death. All my brother’s friends were out there, calling me, and I was afraid they were going to do something bad to me, so I went back to the place where I’d dropped the bag that had my dress in it, then ran for my life. My dad picked me up down the road—he thought I’d changed my mind ’cause I was so late, was just about to give up on me—and we left for Michigan at dawn the next day.”
“And it never occurred to you to tell someone that you saw Mike carrying a dead body? Didn’t that bother you?”
“I didn’t know what he was carrying. It just looked like a big sack to me. It was so dark, and the weeds were so tall, I honestly never saw it. I couldn’t figure out why he was mad, or why he was trying to grab me. All I knew was that he was really angry and I had to run as fast as I could and not let him catch me. It’s only been since the bodies were found here on the farm that I understood what it was he’d been carrying that night.”