Читать книгу Plain Cover-Up - Alison Stone - Страница 11

THREE

“Christina? Christina Jennings? Is that you?” Roger Everett’s lips curved into a smarmy grin—could only she see that?—yet his tone was that of a long-lost friend. Christina felt all the blood drain from her face and she sent up a silent prayer that she wouldn’t pass out right there.

Roger lifted his arms as if to embrace her and Christina held up her hands to block him. “Roger Everett.” The two words spilled out of her mouth. The smile plastered on her face—a smile for his wife’s benefit—hid the icy terror pumping through her veins.

“You remember Nick’s sister?” Linda asked, curiosity in her large eyes. “I don’t recall having met her before. When did you meet her?”

“Of course I met little Christina Jennings. Oh, wait, she’s Dr. Christina Jennings now.”

Linda squinted at her. “I don’t...”

“I’m not sure we ever met. Maybe only in passing,” Christina stammered.

“How is Nick?” Roger asked, carrying on this cheery charade.

“Good.” Christina’s heart was nearly rioting out of her chest, but she had to keep her cool. She’d had a lot of practice playing it cool under fire. She was a physician, after all. “You haven’t seen him lately?”

“Ah, ya know. Now and again. Everyone’s so busy, especially now that he has a little one. How is the baby?”

“Fine.” Christina didn’t want to give this man any more information about her family than necessary. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I saw the trailer...” Christina stared at him as the walls in the foyer swayed.

Since Christina had refused to accuse Roger of wrongdoing soon after he attacked her, she wasn’t about to start now. His wife was ill. Christina didn’t want to cause her any more stress. “I was...on my way out.” She stepped onto the porch and backed down the steps, holding the railing. She spun around and walked briskly toward her car.

“What brought you out here?” Roger called after her.

“I didn’t know who bought this house. I wanted to welcome the new family to the neighborhood.” She aimed her key fob at the car and the locks chirped. She struggled to stay composed as a familiar fear crawled up her spine and stiffened her back.

“Christina mentioned someone was using our barn for an underage party last night,” Linda said.

Anticipation made Christina’s skin tingle. A few feet from her car, she stopped and turned around. “I’m not sure of the exact location,” she backtracked, suddenly feeling like she had betrayed Naomi. The idea that Naomi was drugged on the property of the same man who had attacked Christina swelled like a tsunami in her brain, ready to sweep her under. The coincidence was too great.

“Why would you think that?” Roger asked, a hint of accusation in his tone.

“I may be mistaken.” Christina hated the indecisiveness in her tone. Leave. Just leave.

“Let’s be sure now. Let’s take a look. If there was a party, they probably left behind garbage. Beer cans, stuff like that, right?” Roger stepped off the porch and approached her. “Since you took the time to stop, it’d be a shame if we didn’t investigate. Or maybe we should call your brother, the deputy.” Roger had a way of speaking that was overtly condescending.

“I really should go. I’m running late.” Christina’s stomach sloshed with dread. She was back in college, trying to escape Roger’s grabby hands.

“No, no. I insist. I don’t want anyone using my property for parties.” He shook his head as if it were truly a great hardship. “Can you imagine the liability if someone got hurt on my property? Or after they left because they had been drinking? I don’t know if the bank has cashed the check on the first premium on my homeowner’s insurance.” Roger held out his hand, encouraging Christina to walk in front of him. The only reason Christina moved was because she didn’t want him to touch her.

Not again.

Christina glanced over her shoulder at Linda, willing her to walk with them. The last thing she wanted to do was go to the back of the property into a darkened barn with a man who had forced himself on her when she was in college and then accused her of not knowing what she really wanted.

Never mind that he had a son and a wife at home. Then. And now. Strange that Christina had never met Linda face-to-face until now. Roger probably had preferred it that way. Easier to lure unsuspecting women.

Nausea roiled in her stomach.

Once they were halfway across the yard and it was clear that Linda wasn’t going to follow them, Christina stopped, never turning her back to Roger. She didn’t trust him.

She should never have trusted him.

And she was done being polite. Especially when it came to her safety.

She pointed her finger at him. “I can’t believe you have the nerve to show your face in Apple Creek.”

Roger pressed his hand to his chest in a “who-me?” gesture and his expression took on an offended air. “Nerve?” He leaned close and she did her best not to show her fear. “Your guilt has gotten the best of you. You wanted me, but then your conscience couldn’t deal with the fact I had a wife and child.” His eyes twinkled with wicked delight. “I’m separated now.” He reached out to brush his fingers across her cheek and she backed away.

“Separated from Linda?”

“Yes. Does that make you feel better?”

“Why should it make me feel better? You attacked me.” Anger roared in her ears.

“You wanted it,” he bit out. “Don’t rewrite history.”

A steel rod of courage stiffened her back. “I was naive and didn’t report the incident. I’m no longer that same girl.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Roger spit out, his face suddenly flushed with rage.

“Someone barely escaped being assaulted on your property and I don’t think it’s a coincidence. Once a creep, always a creep.”

His cheeks puffed and his breath grew ragged. He jabbed his finger in her direction and she struggled not to cower. “You watch out, little lady, or I’ll press charges of slander.”

Christina glared right back at him. “The truth is a valid defense.”

“You got a lot of nerve coming out here...” Spittle flew from his lips.

“I’m done.” She gave one last look at the abandoned barn, a row of hay bales with targets on them lined up on one side. She was disappointed she wouldn’t be able to investigate further. Not now. Not with Roger. She turned to go back to her car, a surge of adrenaline mingled with dread and anger.

Roger’s arm snaked out and grabbed her wrist, and terror pressed on her lungs. Instinctively she yanked her arm, but Roger tightened his grip.

“How do you think the fine residents of Apple Creek would feel if they knew their respected town doctor had tried to break up a marriage? I believe home wrecker is the term.”

Christina glared at him, then down at his fingers encircling her wrist. Anger made her bolder than she had a right to be. Roger was probably twice her size. “Let. Me. Go.”

Roger let go of her wrist and stared at her, daring her to move. “Who do you think the members of this town are going to believe? The war hero who’s returned home to take care of his ailing estranged wife despite their differences? The former all-star high school baseball player? The newest member of the town council? Or the town doctor who grew up in a life of privilege—entitlement—and never knew the meaning of the word no?”

“No one who knows me would characterize me like that.”

Roger hiked a shoulder. “Want to try them? And tell me, why didn’t you tell your brother about us?”

“There was no us.” She gritted out the words.

“Okay, why didn’t you tell him I supposedly attacked you?”

“You know why.” She wasn’t able to hide the black eye from her brother so she lied and said her roommate had accidentally elbowed her in the eye. Nick felt guilty that he hadn’t walked her home from the party that night. He’d never forgive himself if he knew it was his friend who had attacked her. His friend who would have done far more to her if she hadn’t fought so fiercely. If something hadn’t spooked Roger. She never did figure out what that was.

More importantly, Christina couldn’t risk Roger seeking retribution from Nick during a time of war. Roger was her brother’s superior in the army. If Christina’s accusations fell on deaf ears, she’d risk putting her brother’s life in jeopardy while they were serving overseas together. And Roger seemed exactly like the kind of person who might try to get even.

She couldn’t risk telling anyone.

A voice roared inside her. How is your silence any different from Naomi refusing to call the sheriff? It’s all a matter of self-preservation.

Self-preservation and protecting those she cared about. She was afraid of Roger, but she was more afraid of how her accusations back then would have affected those around her. Around her brother.

And a little voice in her head always prompted one nagging question: Had she asked for it? Had she been partially responsible for his assault on her? Christina had been enjoying the harmless, flirtatious banter with her brother’s good friend, until it ceased to be flirtatious or harmless.

She thanked God every day that she had been able to escape with only a black eye, and bruised ribs and thighs from his clawing at her.

Her injuries—the assault—could have been far worse.

“I suggest you don’t cause trouble for me now,” Roger said, his eyes sparking with anger.

Squaring her shoulders, Christina took a step closer. “I may have kept my mouth shut back when you attacked me. I was young. Naive. But I plan to do whatever it takes to protect the young women in town.”

A line marred his forehead. “Let me get this straight. You think I’m attacking young women from town?” He jabbed his finger in the direction of his barn. “In my own barn?” He shook his head and leaned in closer; his coffee breath assaulted her nose. “You really are whacked.”

His words struck like a punch to the solar plexus and she struggled to fill her lungs with air. He had used similar words to intimidate her into silence years ago, calling her accusations ridiculous.

Roger gave her a curious stare. “I’m a respected member of the town council now. I took over the seat vacated when Old Man Siegfried kicked the bucket. I put some feelers out there when Linda asked me to come back home. She’s not doing well,” he added, with the first hint of humanity. “I need to be here for her and my son. We don’t need your harassment.”

She fisted her hands. Was he making a play for her sympathy? She wasn’t buying it.

“Why stir up trouble from so long ago? It’ll be my word against yours. A ruined reputation is tough to rebuild.”

“Stay away from me.” Her voice came out low and threatening.

“You stopped by my house,” Roger reminded her.

“My mistake.” She turned toward her car. She couldn’t bear to spend one more minute with this man.

“Keep your mouth shut, Christina. Linda doesn’t need your false accusations. Her health can’t take it.”

“That’s on you. Not me.” Christina kept walking and Roger followed close behind.

“Let me make this clear and in terms you’ll understand. If you stir up trouble, you’ll be sorry.”

“Is that a threat?” All her nerve endings hummed and she fought to hold it together. “You’re good at threats.”

“People love war heroes,” he said, his voice strangely even.

Christina lifted a shaky hand to her forehead. “I should never have stopped here.” She started jogging toward her car parked in the driveway.

“I thought you wanted to check the barn,” Roger hollered after her.

Christina didn’t answer, nor did she stop until she was locked inside her vehicle and had started up the engine. She was about to press her forehead to the steering wheel when a shadow crossed her lap. She glanced up to see a mini-me version of Roger Everett.

Christina opened the window. Before she had a chance to say anything, the young man—who had to be Roger’s son—said, “My mom and dad are trying to work things out.” He stared at her with a steely gaze.

“Okay...”

“If you’re one of his girlfriends, you better not come around here anymore.” His tone was flat, threatening.

“I’m not dating your father.” Her body involuntarily shuddered. She angled her head to look up at him and she had to shield her eyes from the sun. “How old are you?”

The boy squared his shoulders. “Seventeen.”

“Do you know about a party in the barn last night?”

The boy crossed his arms and shook his head. “How would I? We didn’t move in until this morning.”

“Okay,” she said, noncommittally. She didn’t want to call him out. Maybe he had innocently mentioned to some kids at school that he had a vacant house. It wouldn’t take a bunch of kids long to figure out it was a prime location for an unsupervised party.

“I better go.” She put the gear into reverse, then looked up at him. “I’m a physician in town. If your mom needs anything, here’s my card. I gave your mom one, too. Feel free to call if you have concerns. It can be hard to care for someone who’s sick.”

Half his mouth quirked into a wry grin. “My mom’s going to be fine.” Reluctantly, he took her business card and stared hard at it.

“I’ll keep her in my prayers,” Christina said softly, not really sure what else to say.

Something flashed across the young man’s face, as if he wanted to say something sarcastic, but instead he took a step back and flicked his hand in a farewell gesture, and she thought she heard him mutter, “Thanks.”

* * *

Dylan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited in the parking lot of an abandoned restaurant surrounded by cornfields. Ben Reist, the young man, who had unceremoniously dumped Naomi at the clinic door in a driving rain, lived nearby with his mother. Christina had called Dylan, her voice trembling and anxious, determined to find Ben Reist. Now.

Something was wrong.

To be on the safe side, he’d told Christina to meet him in a neutral location and they’d head to the boy’s house together. Dylan was grateful his summer classes had yet to start, affording him the opportunity to be there for Christina. However, he didn’t understand why she insisted on trying to track Ben down when her brother, the sheriff’s deputy couldn’t. Dylan had no authorization to investigate this case and Christina most definitely didn’t.

“Where are you?” he muttered to himself.

The sound of gravel crunching under tires had him turning to see Christina arriving in a ten-year-old sedan. She parked across from him and climbed out of the car. Her long brown hair was pulled into a ponytail and a concerned expression marred the corners of her mouth. An ache of nostalgia expanded in his chest.

He had been a fool to let her go.

Dylan pushed open his car door and climbed out. “What’s going on?”

Christina crossed her arms and glanced toward the street. Something flickered in the depths of her eyes, something he couldn’t quite pinpoint. “What’s wrong?” he asked when she didn’t answer his first question.