The Man She Once Knew (10 page)

T
HE OLD MAN MET THEM
at the door. “What’s he doing here?”

“Mr. Langley is with me, Mr. Sims. We’re inspecting the properties Miss Margaret left me.”

“Uh-uh. Not having a murderer in my house. Man nearly beat my nephew bloody when he tried to help Mickey.”

Callie didn’t have to look back to feel David stiffen. She wondered which one of Mickey Patton’s drinking buddies this man was related to. “Mr. Sims…” she began.

“You get the hell off my property,” the old man interrupted. “You ought to still be locked up. Ned Compton was going to save Oak Hollow. Town’s suffered ever since.”

“That’s enough, Mr. Sims.” Callie glanced back and saw David’s jaw harden, his green eyes flare. For a second, she considered leaving, but then she realized that this man might have information that could impact David’s case. She needed anything she could get, but antagonizing him would gain nothing, so she made a choice. “Would you please excuse us?” she said to David. “I’ll catch up with you at the next place, all right?”

David went utterly still, and one glimpse from him made her feel queasy at the cost to him. His shoulders were ramrod straight as he turned on his heel and left without a word.

“Miss Margaret would be ashamed of you, keeping company with a criminal, young lady.”

Callie bit her lip until it hurt. “May I come inside?” she asked instead. “I’m trying to take good care of Miss Margaret’s estate, and I’d appreciate a few minutes of your time to discuss your situation.”

“I missed only one payment.”

“I’m not here to cause problems, Mr. Sims. I simply want to talk a little and see what we can work out.”

“Invite her in, for goodness’ sakes, Hiram,” said a female voice from behind him. “I’m Luella Sims. You’d be Miss Margaret’s niece. Please come in. Would you care for some sweet tea on this hot morning?” The woman was tall and big boned, her hair a silver helmet.

“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

“I’ll be right back. You just have a seat.”

Her husband grudgingly escorted Callie to a sofa dotted with floral chintz pillows, then took his own seat in a rump-sprung recliner. Arrayed on top of the television were several photos of various adults and children. “Your family?” she asked.

He shrugged a shoulder and only grunted.

Mrs. Sims bustled back in with a sweating glass, placing it on a crocheted doily atop the coffee table in front of Callie. “Yes, our three girls and their babies. Seven grandchildren in all.” She beamed.

This could be her source, Callie realized, so she sought for the correct response, though her store of small talk was sorely lacking. “They’re very cute.”

“Bright as pennies, every one of them. Tim here—” She touched one photo of a boy maybe around Jessie Lee’s age. “He’s already decided to be a lawyer.”

“Boy could argue the day of the week and convince you,” grumbled his grandfather, but there was pride in his tone.

Callie wondered if pointing out that she was an attorney would help or hinder her aim. “I’m a prosecutor back in Philadelphia. You might advise him to enter debate competitions. That looks good on law school applications.”

“Why, isn’t that a grand idea and good of you to mention?” said Mrs. Sims. “We’ll just do that, won’t we, Hiram?”

He only jerked his head, but Callie thought maybe she saw a little softening.

She was quickly disabused of that notion. “What’s a prosecutor doing, going around with a criminal?”

Callie once again suppressed a heated response. “I’m sorry about your nephew, but it’s not my case to try, and the law says a man is innocent until proven guilty. Miss Margaret had Mr. Langley perform various repairs, and I asked him to use his knowledge to help me figure out what to do with the properties she entrusted to me.”

The old man bristled, but his wife interceded. “Would you like a tour of the place?” She stood. “Weren’t you headed for the post office, Hiram?”

Practically before Callie could blink, Hiram Sims had been whisked out the door and she’d been presented with a plate of lemon cookies, along with her glass of tea.

“David’s mama’s a good woman. Folks are upset because they believed in David, even set up a fund to help him with college expenses. Then he went off the track after—” She pursed her lips. “Well, it’s a shame, is all, but he’s kept his head down since he came back. He hasn’t made any trouble, just stayed to himself, up to now.” She leaned closer. “Hiram’s sister’s son spends too much time with Mickey Patton. That man was a bully as a child, and he hasn’t improved with age.”

Mrs. Sims paused for breath, but it didn’t last long. Callie listened and absorbed every word.

O
NCE SHE REJOINED DAVID
, he had little to say to her the rest of the uncomfortable afternoon, restricting his comments to construction issues and even then parsing each word as if he had a limited supply.

But at last, they were done with the inspections. “I’ll work up an estimate of the cost for the work I’m able to do. Some of it will require skilled tradesmen, and I can’t help you with suggestions for that. I’ve been away too long to know who to recommend.” He snapped shut his notebook and started for his mom’s car, then turned back. “I don’t have a truck to transport materials, either. Deliveries to Oak Hollow from the nearest lumberyard aren’t cheap, I’ll warn you.”

Callie glanced at the vehicle he was driving,
clearly not his own choice, and squirmed for him. How many blows to his pride could a man take and still remain standing? Yet despite the constant antagonism and his generally ignominious circumstances, David did not falter. There was steel in his spine and power shimmered around him. She’d admired the boy he’d been, but the man was even more impressive.

“David…”

He halted but kept his back to her.

I won’t have your pity.
She knew he didn’t want her help, but she was desperate to make up to him for the damage she’d caused.

It wasn’t pity, not really. Guilt yes, buckets of it.

But that he didn’t want to discuss it anymore was evident, so a thank-you was what she allowed herself.

One curt nod, and he left.

Callie watched until he was out of sight. Then, dispirited, at last she climbed into her own vehicle.

And barely resisted the urge to keep on driving until she left Oak Hollow and all its memories behind.

O
H, HOW SHE HATED
the nights when sleep eluded her. She’d had too many of them, stressing over a case, giving her closing arguments again and again until the bed had seemed a prison and she’d kicked her way to freedom, only to find her apartment walls suffocating. Sometimes she’d pace and talk herself down; other times she’d exercise herself into exhaustion. Often she’d have preferred to go for a run, but she didn’t live in a neighborhood that lent
itself to midnight rambles. She’d chosen it for efficiency, as it was close to work and had plenty of places to eat out.

Because work was where she actually lived.

Callie tossed again, punched the pillow. Finally sat up before she could scream. She’d slept well enough here up to now, but tonight…

She kept seeing David’s face, the despair in it. The determination overlaying that. The stubborn sense of honor others seemed to miss. Not Jessie Lee, though, or her grandmother. And not Miss Margaret.

Callie rose abruptly and began to pace. She glanced out the front window and saw only a smattering of lights from porches and utility poles in yards. Oak Hollow was not a big city; more than likely she was the only soul awake at this hour.

She could walk outside right now, clad as she was in a nightgown. The notion had her lips curving. She thought Miss Margaret, the quiet rebel, might get a kick out of it.

So out onto the front porch she went, straight to the edge of the steps. She stood there, head swiveling from side to side, eyes alert, ears perked and waiting for what she did not know. She moved along the wraparound porch, headed for the wicker love seat.

She heard a noise off to the left. At first she thought it might be the missing tomcat, but this sounded completely different, sort of slithery and menacing. She skittered to the side, her heart thumping. All of a sudden she was afraid to put one bare foot in front of the other, and the expanse between her and the front door seemed a football field long.

The love seat by then was only one leap away. In a split second she’d landed on it, had her feet off the boards and her legs tucked beneath her.

She shivered and wished for a blanket. Mountain nights were cool, but she was not, no sir, stepping one foot from where she sat. God knows what might be out there—or what had possessed her to leave the safety of the bed.

In that moment, Callie missed squealing tires and yelling neighbors and sirens and boom boxes. Those noises she understood.

Wild things she did not.

Oh, mercy, something was moving in the grass, something that slithered while something else scratched. She uttered a small scream. She had to get inside. The back door was locked, though. If she ran really fast, she could surely outrun whatever was out there that might bite or sting or claw or—

Callie took off running pell-mell around the porch, desperate for the safety—

“Oof—” She hit a solid wall and screamed again.

“Callie.” A gentle shake. “Callie, you’re okay. Hush now. You’ll have the neighbors out with their guns.”

Warmth registered. A voice, human.

Male.

“David?” She couldn’t help it, she started shaking, whether from fear or relief she couldn’t say. She grabbed on, dug her fingers in his jacket, slid her hands around his waist and burrowed.

“Hey, there. What happened? What did you see?”

She stood on her tiptoes and stretched, wanting her bare feet off the boards, away from whatever the noises had been. Scrabbled her fingers as if to launch herself upward.

Then he lifted her. “Are you hurt?” He tried the back door, then walked with her around to the front and shouldered inside. “Let me look.” He flicked on the closest lamp, and Callie was blinded by the faint light.

Quickly he rounded the sofa, then laid her on it. “Talk to me, Callie.”

She became aware that he was fully dressed and she was barely covered. She scrambled to sit up in the corner of the sofa and pulled a throw pillow in front of her. “I’m okay. It was just…” She shrugged. In the glow of the lamp, her fright faded. “I have no idea what it was.” She gave him a rueful grin. “I…there are so many sounds here, yet it’s unnervingly quiet, too.”

He nodded and smiled back. “When I first got back…” Dark shadows floated across his eyes. “Never mind.” He looked away.

She was so tired of him eluding her, of never making a connection. “Prison and cities have some things in common—noisy and always simmering.” Maybe tackling his past broadside would help.

His look was full of speculation. “Never thought about it that way.” A pause. “I’ve never been in a city, so I couldn’t say.”

She was struck dumb, newly aware that in his whole life, he’d lived only in two places—Oak Hollow and the prison at Jackson—but pity was out of the question. “I saw something move in the grass, and I
could swear I heard a slither.” Just the memory made her shudder.

“It was only a skunk, though I spotted a possum, too.”

“That’s all?” She felt vaguely insulted. “I got scared half to death by two little animals?”

A quick grin. “A skunk’s no laughing matter if he sprays you.”

“What a city girl I am.” She shook her head. “Embarrassing.” Then she frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“Out running. Heard you yell.”

Callie flushed. For the first time she realized that he’d been unusually warm and registered the triangle of sweat on his shirt. Then that broad chest became all she could see.

“Why are you running at night?” She yanked her eyes away from all that muscle.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Really? Me, neither.”

Silence landed between them with a thud, but it had teeth and toenails, clawing its way beneath her skin and reminding her of too much.

She sought a diversion. “I have trouble sleeping,” she admitted. “I used to run on a treadmill. Safer place in a city at night.”

“Less likely to break your neck, that’s for sure.” But his tone held a hint of challenge.

She cocked her head. Wondered where the daredevil girl had disappeared to. “Can I come with you?”

He was momentarily nonplussed. “Now?”

“They say vigorous activity before sleep is a lousy
way to get your rest.” Then she wanted to slap a hand over her ungoverned mouth when she realized how
vigorous activity
could be construed.

A quirk of his lips, a light in his eyes. “I always wondered who ‘they’ were.”

The lighter tone compelled her to string out the teasing a little longer. “On the other hand, ‘they’ aren’t here.”

The moment sang with awareness…of the dim light, of the darkness beyond it…of the fragile truce. Callie was afraid to breathe for fear of disturbing it.

He seemed to share her reluctance.

“Or we could play gin rummy.”

His head jerked up. “Play…cards?”

She’d surprised him. “A nice gentle game of gin might just send us both straight into the arms of Morpheus.”

“Hypnos,” he said. At her start, he explained. “The father of Morpheus and the god of sleep. Morpheus was the god of dreams.”

She was quickly reminded that he’d been not only the best athlete but the smartest kid in his school. Grief for that boy flickered, but she would not let it ruin this odd peace between them.

“No gin. You got anything but stilettos to put on your feet?”

“You must not have been paying attention to the Oak Hollow grapevine. Jessie Lee nearly died from excitement when the FedEx truck made its way up the mountain to deliver my clothes.” Then she hissed at the memory of the afternoon and how they’d parted. And what the grapevine had done to him.

But the wispy truce held. This out-of-time moment continued.

“Any running shoes in it?” he asked.

Since that was the extent of her sensible shoes, she’d made her running shoes and her favorite jeans the top of her list, and her assistant Anna had come through for her. “Yes.”