Threads of Steel (Bayou Cove) (3 page)

“No, the valet already took them to the room.”

“Great, then I’ll wait for you right here. Did you say your name was Anna Marie?”

She nodded.

“Good to meet you, Anna Marie. You can call me Doug.”

She turned toward her car, but stopped when she saw Nancy’s van speeding back down the winding road toward the hotel.

Alarmed, she stepped off the sidewalk and waved her arms to get her attention. Her breath caught in her throat. When she was sure Nancy had seen her, she turned to Doug.

“Something isn’t right. That’s my friend
.
She just left.” She waved her arms again and repeated. “Something isn’t right.”

Doug stepped next to her and together they watched the beige van slide to a stop near them. Nancy jumped out and ran around the van. Anna Marie met her halfway and grabbed her hands.

“What’s wrong? Why are you back?”

Nancy’s hands trembled in hers. Her face was pale and drawn. She bit her lip before saying anything. “Oh, Anna, we have to talk.”

Anna Marie squeezed her friend’s hand. “Tell me nothing’s wrong with one of your kids.”

“No, no, it’s not the children. Oh, Anna, this is awful. I don’t know what to say.”

Anna Maria held her at arm’s length. “Just tell me.”

“It’s your dad.”

Anna Marie dropped her hands from Nancy and stepped backwards. Tightness spread across her chest. She swallowed. “What about my dad?”

“Your dad.
It’s.
. .oh, I don’t know how to tell you this. He’s out of prison.” Nancy pressed her hands to her chest. “He’s the one who killed Miss Ellie.”

CHAPTER
2

The wind gushed out of Anna Marie. Her body went limp. Had it not been for two strong arms that grabbed her from behind, she would’ve hit the concrete.

Now Nancy grabbed her by the arms again and shook. “Anna, breathe. You have to breathe.”

She tried to inhale and exhale to get oxygen to her brain. White spots floated in front of her eyes. She heard herself groan.

“Open the car door. She needs to sit,” she heard Doug say.

“I’m okay,” she mumbled as she was unceremoniously shoved toward the van. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

With the help of Doug’s hands on her arms, she stood straighter,
then
looked from him to Nancy. Her body shook uncontrollably.

“How do you know it was my father?” she asked, her words nothing more than a whisper.

“From Harry,” said Nancy. “He talked with one of his friends at the police station. It’s so confusing right now. At first they thought the man owned the car because he didn’t have any identification, but when they contacted the owner’s family, they realized that man was out of town. The guy—I think Harry said the man’s name was Barker—said your dad borrowed the car.”

Anna Marie blinked, trying to comprehend what Nancy had just told her,
then
squeezed her eyes hoping when she opened them, only the good-looking guy would be standing next to her ready to escort her to the golf course.

It didn’t work. When she opened them, Nancy was inches from her face. “Are you okay?”

Anna Marie inhaled a reinforcing breath,
then
nodded. “If my father was out of prison, why wasn’t I notified? Did he escape or was he on parole?”

Nancy shrugged. “I don’t know. Oh, Anna Marie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to tell you, but I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else. Harry knew I had been with you here so he told the police where to find you. He said they are on their way to talk with you.”

Anna Marie turned around and looked at Doug who still held one hand on her arm. “This is more awful than I could ever imagine. Doug, I . . .”

“Hey, don’t you dare apologize. I’m not sure what’s happened here, but obviously this needs to be taken care of.”

“Thank you.” She turned back to Nancy. “I still don’t understand how he could get out of prison without me knowing about it?”

Her words came out strained.
Prison.
The word was still so hard for her to say.

“That’s all
Harry’s
friend told him. Harry said they’re trying to match fingerprints for a positive identification, but they’re pretty sure it’s him.”

Her legs felt stronger so Anna Marie stepped back. Nancy took her hand once more. “It’s him, Anna. It’s your dad.”

Anna Marie focused on a pile of gravel pushed up against the curb. It was easier to look at the ground then to look up and see the pity in Nancy’s face. She certainly didn’t want to look at Doug. There’s no telling what he thought about her. “This is horrible,” she whispered.

“I know, darling.” Nancy’s eyes watered. “Things aren’t supposed to happen this way, but we both know life never seems to cooperate.”

“But Miss Ellie.
How could my dad be the one to kill her?” Giving in to a belt of self-pity and a total inability to deal with this problem, she put her head into her hands. “It makes no sense.”

Nancy’s phone rang.
“Oh, now what?”
She opened the passenger door and grabbed the phone from the car seat. “Yes, Samantha. Your father’s on his way. Stay in the lobby. He’ll be there in a minute.” She snapped the phone shut.

Anna Marie raised her head that now felt as if it weighed twenty pounds. “Nancy, go tend to your children. This is my problem, not yours.”

“Oh, get real. I’m not leaving you.”

“I’m okay. I promise.”

Doug McCall stepped closer to her. “I’ll stay here with her until the police come.”

Anna Marie was surprised the man was still with them. “I can’t expect you to do that.”

“Why not?
I can play golf any time. I know a few guys on the police force so I might know the ones coming here.”

She looked up in his brown eyes filled with understanding. She didn’t know this man, but at the moment she could lose herself in the tenderness his eyes seemed to offer. “Thank you.”

“What should we do?” Nancy asked. Her huge eyes told Anna Mari
e
how devastated her friend was.

She shook her head. “I’m not sure. I have to talk with the police,
then
I need to go to the hospital. I have to see for myself if that man is really my father.”

Doug touched her arm,
then
nodded toward the road. “There’re they are.” He stepped into the street and headed toward the patrol car pulling in near the hotel entrance.

Nancy looked at the guy, then back at Anna Marie. “Who is he?”

“Just a golfer I was supposed to play with this afternoon. Doug McCall.”

Nancy took her hand. “Good looking guy. Come on. I’ll go with you to talk to the police. Oh, wait. I have to get Harry, Jr. out of the van. You go on. I’ll meet you.”

Following close behind Doug, Anna Marie tried to calm herself before she came face to face with the policemen. Realization hit her. This would be one of many meetings she’d have to endure before she left this town.

She prayed for the strength to handle what was in her future.

She watched Doug shake hands with each of the officers as she stepped up next to them. Doug introduced them to Anna Marie.

“Miss
LaFaire
, we’re sorry to have to meet you under these circumstances.” The older officer said. Probably in his forties, his eyes had the same gentle look as Mr. McCall.

All of a sudden too choked up to speak, Anna Marie simply nodded.

“Do you think we could go somewhere where we can talk in private?” the younger officer asked.

“There’re several meetings rooms inside. I know we can get in one if they’re not booked,” Doug offered.

Glad to have someone to take control, Anna Marie waited for Nancy to run across the parking lot with the baby striding her hip,
then
they all walked inside.

Within minutes they were seated around a long table in a private room. Doug pulled out a chair for Nancy,
then
stepped back. She welcomed them with her, even Doug whom she didn’t know at all. Having him there didn’t seem any more surreal than what was happening to her now.

When Officer
Stenson
pulled out a pad and placed it on the table, Anna Marie felt as though
she was about to be interrogated for the death of Miss Ellie instead of answering questions about her father.

After checking her identification and jotting down some of the information, he explained what they knew about the accident. Her father was driving a car that belonged to Timothy Barker, a construction worker along the coast.

“It seems your father and Mr. Barker met in prison. Your father ran into Miss Ellie Harrington on Sycamore Lane. She was riding her bicycle. He hit her, then hit a telephone post and never regained consciousness. He’d been drinking. A driver only needs .08 blood-alcohol
level
to be considered legally intoxicated. His was 1.6.”

The weight on her chest pressed even harder. She’d thought after all that time in prison he wouldn’t still be drinking, but what did she know? She nodded to the officer and he started the questions.

When asked when she’d seen her father last and if she knew he’d been released, she pulled in a long breath.

“I had no idea he was being released. It’s been more years than I’d like to admit. I was only nine when he was sent up for armed robbery. He’d had so many other smaller infractions with the law that the judge wasn’t lenient. At first my mother and I drove up to the prison often, but he would never see us. We stopped going.” Then in a quiet voice she added, “I guess he didn’t want us anymore.”

“So you haven’t seen him in the last few years?”

She shook her head. “My mother filed for divorce. I was too young to question. Maybe I was relieved he wasn’t in our home scaring my mother.” The last sentence was a whisper. “After I graduated from college, I tried to visit with him several times, but he refused. I continued to write letters that he never answered, but I never went again.”

The hurt and the rejection she felt on those visits still burned today as hot and deep as it had then.

Nancy touched her hand under the table.

“Where is my father?” Anna Maria asked.

“He’s in the Bayou Cove Hospital in Intensive Care. I’m sorry to have to tell you, but he’s on life-support.
”
She saw the pity in Officer
Stenson’s
eyes.

“While we’re waiting for a positive fingerprint match, do you think you could identify him?” asked the other officer.

“I’ll try. I’ve never forgotten his face. He was my father and he loved me—when I was a child. . .” The words clogged her throat. She couldn’t say anything else.

Doug McCall stood against the wall. She felt him staring at her. She glanced up and saw in his eyes what he must think of her—a woman with a father in prison, a father who rejected her. He must see her as a really pitiful human being.

She looked away from this stranger who couldn’t possibly understand the hurt she’d lived with most of her life.

“I understand,” the officer said, pulling her out of her self-pity. “I’m sorry to put you through this since you have no idea what happened, but we need as much information as we can get.”

“I’ll try to help you any way I can.” Anna Marie sat back to let them finish their questions, mostly routine information she didn’t have answers to, or if she did, it was information she didn’t think was pertinent. They asked about her mother and her
death,
then went on to ask about her career in New Orleans.

None of the questions made any sense to her, but she cooperated. Maybe she didn’t want the questioning to stop because when it did, she’d have to face the people of Bayou Cove and a man lying on a bed in Intensive Care.

Finally, the two men stood up. “We’ll follow you to the hospital if you can drive. If not, you can ride with us.”

Before she could answer, both Nancy and Doug spoke up and offered to take her.

“No, I’m fine. I can drive over. Anyway, if they’ll let me, I’d like to spend some time with my father.”

“Oh, Anna, are you sure?” Nancy asked as she juggled Little Harry on her lap.

“I’m sure. Both of you have been wonderful. I appreciate your staying here with me.”

Everyone walked with her to her car. Nancy hugged her and made her promise to call. Doug pulled out a card with his contact information and asked her to call him before she left town. She took the card, looked up at him and wished with all her might she could spend the afternoon with this man and avoid what she’d have to face.

“Thank you again. I’ll try to call.”

He smiled. “I’ll be around.”

As she turned, she couldn’t help but think how nice it would be to have someone like him to lean on. But that wouldn’t happen. The choices she’d made since her divorce had taken her down a solitary road, a road she never questioned.