Читать книгу The Mother - BEVERLY BARTON, Beverly Barton - Страница 13

Wayne Sherrod couldn’t get away from headquarters fast enough. He had hated the pity he’d seen in Willie’s eyes and the sympathetic expression on Tam’s face. He hated that Garth was in denial and preferred to dismiss the possibility that one of the dead toddlers might be Blake. He understood that Garth simply couldn’t accept the fact that Blake was dead. It had taken Wayne years to accept the truth. Yeah, sure, somewhere deep down inside him a glimmer of hope still existed, but he knew only too well how illogical that hope was. Blake was dead. The odds were that he had been one of Regina Bennett’s victims. Wayne had visited the crazy bitch in the mental hospital twice, and both times he had come away with more questions than answers.

Just as he started to open the door to his Chevy Silverado, he heard footsteps behind him and knew without turning around that Audrey had followed him.

Go away, girl. Go away and leave me alone.

“Daddy …?”

He gripped the door handle with bone-crushing strength.

Keeping his back to her, he said, “I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Don’t worry about me. I don’t need your sympathy or your comfort.”

“No, you never did, did you?”

Without so much as glancing over his shoulder, Wayne climbed up into the cab of his truck and slammed the door. After starting the engine, he buckled his seat belt and put the gear into reverse. As he drove out of the parking area, he caught a glimpse of his daughter in his peripheral vision. She stood alone, tall, slender, and elegant, and looking so much like her mother.

I’m sorry, little girl. Sorry I’ve been such a worthless father. I’m sorry for so many things.

If he could go back to when Audrey had been a baby, to when he’d been madly in love with Norma, there were so many things he’d do differently. But he couldn’t go back. A guy didn’t get any second chances in this life. He had loved two women and he’d lost them both. And he’d fathered two children and had lost both of them, too. Death had taken Blake from him. And his own stupidity had lost him his daughter.

As he made his way down Amnicola Highway and hit 153, his mind swirling with memories and an ache in his gut growing more painful by the minute, Wayne wanted only one thing—to forget. He didn’t want to remember Norma Colton. How beautiful she’d been. How he had adored her. How she had felt lying beneath him. How sweet her lips had tasted. How badly he had disappointed her by being unable to give her all the love and attention she craved. He hadn’t understood why she’d had to be so possessive, so demanding. The more she had clung to him, the more he had pulled away.

I’m sorry, Norma. God, I am so sorry. I wish I had been able to give you what you needed. I wish I had realized that you were the love of my life. I wish I’d had the chance to tell you.

The late-afternoon sun sank low on the eastern horizon, a blaze of color spreading across the sky. Wayne sucked in a long, hard breath. He had made more than his share of mistakes, and others had paid the price. Not that he hadn’t suffered, wasn’t still suffering, but he deserved it. Neither of his wives had. And God knew, neither of his children had.

Where Norma had been effervescent, giggling and talkative and loving all the time, Enid had been a quiet, reserved woman with a gentle nature. He had fallen in love with her and her son, Hart, too. In the beginning, they’d had a good marriage—or so he’d thought—and he’d been content. But even before Blake’s birth, he had begun to notice little things about Enid’s behavior, things that he later realized were signs of her mental illness. But he had chosen to ignore those signs. After all, his life had been good, hadn’t it? There had been no need to make mountains out of molehills.

If only … Famous last words. If only he had paid more attention to Enid’s strange behavior. If only he had admitted that after Blake’s birth, she had needed professional help. But a quarter of a century ago, people didn’t talk much about the various types of mental illnesses, about things like bipolar disorder or postpartum depression.

I’m sorry, Enid. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were sick, that you had suffered with mood swings and severe bouts of depression since childhood. Sorry that I didn’t realize until it was too late.

Wayne turned onto Meadow Hill Drive and slowed his truck to the neighborhood speed limit of twenty-five as he drew near his destination. The three-bedroom, two-bath red brick ranch house with the neatly manicured lawn and rose bushes lining one side of the concrete drive beckoned to him as it had for so many years. Inside this house, he would find, as he always did, warmth and caring, understanding, and a few hours of forgetfulness.

He had already rung the doorbell before he thought that maybe he should have called first. But when Grace Douglas opened the door and stood there smiling up at him, every thought except what a wonderful sight she was left his mind.

“What a pleasant surprise,” Grace said as she stepped back to allow him into her home. When he remained silent, simply looking at her, drinking her in, her smile disappeared. “Wayne, what’s wrong?”

The moment he closed the door behind him, she opened her arms and wrapped them around him. When she laid her head on his chest, he enclosed her soft, womanly body in a tender embrace and the weight of the world dropped from his overburdened shoulders.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” Grace said as she lifted her head from his chest and gazed lovingly up at him.

He reached down and cradled her face with both hands. “Have I told you lately how very important you are to me?”

Her lips curved in a fragile smile. “Not lately, no, but you don’t have to tell me for me to know, because I feel the same way.” She took his hand in hers and led him through the living room and into the kitchen at the back of the house. “Sit down and I’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee.”

When she pulled away from him to prepare the coffee, he grasped her wrist. She looked back at him.

“I guess the coffee can wait,” she said.

He slid out a chair from the table, sat down, and then eased her onto his lap. She draped her arm around his neck.

Grace Douglas was round and plump, with wide hips and full breasts. She was a kind, giving woman with a heart as big as Texas. He doubted most folks ever noticed the sadness in her pretty blue eyes, a sadness that he understood in a way no one else in her life did.

He ran the back of his hand gently across her cheek. She closed her eyes and quietly sighed.

“Could we talk, later?” he asked. “I promise I’ll explain everything. But right now …” He glided his hand down her neck, across her shoulder, and opened his palm to cup one breast.

Right now, he needed to forget. He needed to lose himself in this beautiful, loving woman. There would be time enough later that evening to tell her about the unidentified skeletons of two toddler boys. Skeletons that might be the remains of his son Blake and her son Shane.

The minute J.D. entered police headquarters, he spotted his daughter. She rose from the chair where she sat alongside a tattooed, nose-ringed boy with scraggly brown hair and a surly expression.

When a uniformed police officer said something to her, Zoe cried, “But it’s my father. Please, let me tell him what happened.”

The officer nodded. Zoe came running toward J.D. and hurled herself at him. Instinct took over and he put his arms around her in a comforting, fatherly way.

“I wasn’t drinking,” Zoe told him. “I swear to God, I wasn’t drinking. Not even a beer.”

The young officer, who looked all of twenty-five, lean, blond, and clean-cut, walked over to J.D. “Special Agent Cass?” He offered J.D. his hand. “I’m Officer Karns. Ryan Karns.”

“Yeah, I’m J.D. Cass.” He shook the man’s hand. “So, what’s going on here?” He glanced from Zoe to Officer Karns.

“Your daughter isn’t under arrest, but we had to hold her, of course, until a parent could pick her up,” Karns said. “The boy she was with was speeding not two miles from here, and when a patrolman tried to pull him over, he raced off doing close to a hundred. Lucky for him and your daughter, he didn’t wreck.”

“Dawson just panicked, J.D.” Zoe grabbed his arm. “He’d been drinking a beer and he didn’t want to get a DUI. That’s why he ran.”

J.D. glowered at his daughter.

“Whatever possessed you to go off with that boy?” J.D. glanced at the sulking young hunk who glared back at him.

“Dawson’s my boyfriend,” Zoe snapped angrily.

“Like hell he is. You’re fourteen. You’re not old enough to have a boyfriend.”

When she opened her mouth to protest, J.D. gave her a warning stare and said, “Not another word out of you.”

“Young lady,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Is my daughter free to go?” J.D. asked Officer Karns.

“Yes, sir, she is.”

“No, damn it, I won’t leave without Dawson.” Zoe planted her hands on her slender hips and shot her father a challenging glare.

“You’ll leave,” J.D. told her. “Either under your own power or thrown over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Your choice … young lady.”

“I’m afraid Dawson isn’t free to go,” Officer Karns explained. “Not only was he speeding, but he was driving under the influence, endangering himself and others. He failed the breathalyzer test. He had a BrAC of 0.09.”

“He was just drinking beer,” Zoe told them, adamant in Dawson’s defense.

“Whatever he was drinking doesn’t matter,” J.D. informed her. “A reading of 0.08 is considered intoxicated, and the number drops even lower for anyone under the age of twenty-one. Dawson’s sixteen.”

“We’ve contacted Dawson’s parents. They’re out of town, so we’ll be holding him at the Hamilton County Juvenile Detention Center until they get back in town.”

When J.D. refused to help Dawson, Zoe began mouthing off again, threatening all sorts of outlandish things. The wayward teen was his parents’ problem, not J.D.’s. He had enough trouble with Zoe.

In the middle of his daughter’s tirade and just as J.D. was at his wits’ end, he heard a calm, soothing female voice ask, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Evening, Dr. Sherrod.” Officer Karns’s shoulders drooped wearily, as if he, too, were at the end of his rope. No doubt he had counted on J.D. being able to control his fourteen-year-old daughter since he wasn’t sure how to deal with the hysterical girl.

Apparently, Audrey Sherrod had been visiting her uncle and had just walked out of his office. However, it wasn’t Garth Hudson who accompanied her, but Chief Mullins. The chief gave Audrey a quick, fatherly peck on the cheek and whispered something to her, then nodded to Officer Karns and headed for the exit.

Dr. Sherrod’s question had startled Zoe into complete silence. She stood there staring at the woman as if she were an alien who had just stepped out of a spaceship from Mars.

“I … uh … I don’t know if you can help.” Karns looked from Audrey Sherrod to J.D. “It’s up to you, Special Agent Cass.”

J.D. surveyed the woman from head to toe. Sublimely cool and controlled, Audrey looked him right in the eye. Despite the unseasonably hot and humid September day and the warm pink flush on her cheeks, she was perfectly groomed, not a silky brown hair out of place, her makeup flawless, her slacks and sweater unwrinkled.

J.D. didn’t want her help. Didn’t need her help. But he was in no position to be rude. All he wanted was to take Zoe home and ground her for the rest of her life. Well, at least until she was thirty. Apparently Dr. Sherrod was well-known and respected here at police headquarters and no doubt on as friendly terms with the chief as she was Officer Lovelady, the chief’s daughter.

“If you think you can help, then by all means help.” J.D. resented Dr. Sherrod’s interference. Resented it like hell. “I didn’t realize that your area of expertise included soothing smart-mouthed, disrespectful teenage girls.”

Audrey’s hazel brown eyes glimmered as she settled her gaze on him, a sure sign she recognized his comment as an insult as well as a challenge. Turning up her haughty little nose, she said, “There is usually a reason behind such behavior.” She turned to Zoe. “Hi, I’m Audrey Sherrod. I’m a professional counselor and occasionally I work with the police in an advisory capacity. If you think I can help you, then tell me how and I’ll see what I can do.”

Zoe kept staring at Audrey for several moments as if she wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Finally, she said, “I’m Zoe Davidson.”

“Nice to meet you, Zoe. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“Dawson is the one who needs help, but my father won’t help him.”

“I see.” She glanced at J.D., a questioning look in her eyes. “And what do you expect your father to do?”

“Get Dawson out of this mess,” Zoe replied. “My dad’s a Tennessee Bureau of Investigation agent. He could take care of this for Dawson if he wanted to, but he doesn’t like Dawson because he thinks I’m too young to have a boyfriend.”

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“Hmm … I had a boyfriend when I was fourteen, and my father didn’t like him.”

Zoe smiled at J.D. triumphantly. Great. Just what he needed. A damn female shrink who apparently agreed with his daughter.

“Ryan, what are the charges against Dawson?” Audrey asked.

Officer Karns rattled off a list of offenses, everything from reckless driving to resisting arrest, with half a dozen other complaints in between, including DUI, resisting stop and frisk, and reckless endangerment.

“I see. I assume you’ve contacted his parents.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And is there anything Special Agent Cass can do for Dawson, any way he can take the boy with him when he and Zoe leave?”

“No, ma’am. Dawson Cummings is going to be spending the night in juvenile tonight. Once his parents arrive and his bond is posted, he’ll be released into their custody.”

“Zoe’s very concerned about Dawson,” Audrey told Officer Karns. “Can you give her some kind of reassurance that he’ll be well treated and no harm will come to him until his parents can arrange for his release?”

J.D. watched and listened, completely dumbfounded by the way Zoe was reacting to Audrey Sherrod. Hadn’t he been saying pretty much the same things to her? Why was she paying attention to a stranger when all she’d done was scream at her own father?

“Yes, ma’am.” The young policeman looked directly at Zoe. “I give you my word that Dawson will be okay until his parents can take him home. He’s drunk and belligerent and he’s mouthed off and, yes, he’s in big trouble. But his folks will get him a good lawyer and since this is his first arrest, he’ll probably wind up with nothing more than a slap on the wrist.”

“There, Zoe, Officer Karns has given you his word.” Audrey placed her hand on Zoe’s shoulder. “I’m sure if you go home with your father now and apologize to him for some of the things you said to him, you and he will be able to come to an understanding about Dawson.” Audrey looked at J.D. “Isn’t that right, Special Agent Cass?”

J.D. snorted. Damn her. She’d put him on the spot. He nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

When Audrey turned to go, Zoe called, “Wait. Don’t leave.”

Audrey paused and glanced over her shoulder.

“Uh … J.D. and I, we don’t communicate all that well. We both always wind up saying the wrong things.” Zoe gazed pleadingly at Audrey. “Was it like that for you and your dad?”

J.D. noted the slight hesitation and the quickly concealed odd expression as it crossed Audrey’s face.

“Yes, Zoe, it was. My father and I had communication problems, too.”

“Are all fathers like that? I mean, do all of them think you’re still a baby when you’re not? Do they all try to run your life and assume they know what’s best for you even when they’re wrong?”

“Yes, to some extent all fathers are like that, so it’s up to daughters during their teen years to be patient and understanding and do their best not to give their fathers a heart attack. Of course, giving him a few gray hairs is a different matter. That’s a given.”

Zoe looked at J.D., and she and Audrey laughed.

Yeah, funny. He hadn’t missed the joke. His hair had already begun turning prematurely gray before Zoe came to live with him, but he had to admit that it was getting grayer every day.

Zoe went over and stood in front of J.D. “If I apologize to you, will you let me say good-bye to Dawson before we leave?”

Letting his daughter anywhere near that young hoodlum was the last thing J.D. wanted to do, but when he glanced at Audrey, she gave him a cautionary meet-your-child-halfway stare.

“Yeah. Okay,” he said reluctantly.

“I’m sorry I said all those awful things to you. I—I didn’t mean them.” Zoe gulped. “Well, I didn’t mean most of them.”

J.D. nodded. At least she was truthful. That alone was a step in the right direction. “Apology accepted.”

“Now, may I say bye to Dawson?”

“Make it quick.”

“I will.”

Everything was going along just fine. Everybody was calm and rational, even Zoe. And J.D. managed to keep his resentment of Audrey Sherrod’s interference under control. Okay, so the woman had worked some kind of magic on Zoe, but she’d had no right to—

God damn it. What the hell?

Zoe stood on tiptoe, wrapped her arms around Dawson’s neck, and kissed him. Kissed him on the mouth. And both his mouth and hers were wide open!

J.D. growled like the papa bear he was and felt like ripping Dawson apart, limb from limb. Just as he moved forward, intending to grab Zoe, Audrey reached out and clamped her hand over his forearm.

“Don’t,” Audrey whispered. “It’s just a kiss. Give her that much.”

J.D. snapped his head around and glared at Audrey. “She’s a child. My child.”

“She’s a child on the verge of womanhood. And unless I miss my guess, your daughter is strong-minded and stubborn, and the more you object to something, the more appealing it is to her. The harder you push, the harder she’ll push back.”

J.D. clenched his teeth. He wanted to tell Audrey Sherrod to go to hell. But he didn’t. As bad as he hated to admit it, she was right. Zoe was just like him, God help them both. She was as strong-willed and stubborn as he was, and she reacted just as he did to being issued orders.

The kiss ended before J.D. could explode. And when Zoe came back to him and said, “I’m ready,” he noticed that Audrey’s long, slender fingers still circled his forearm.

“You can let go now,” he told her.

She jerked her hand away as her gaze flashed from his face to Zoe’s. “If you ever need someone to talk to, give me a call.”

J.D. barely managed to keep from telling Audrey to back off and leave his daughter alone.

“Thanks,” Zoe said. “I just might do that, Dr. Sherrod.”

Audrey smiled warmly before turning and walking away.

“I like her,” Zoe said. “Why can’t you date somebody like Dr. Sherrod instead of that stuck-on-herself-because-she’s-so-wonderful Holly Johnston?”

“Whom I date is none of your business,” J.D. told her as he escorted her downstairs and out of the police station.

“That should work both ways,” Zoe said.

“It will when you’re twenty-one.”

Zoe groaned and rolled her eyes skyward.

Damn. Fatherhood should come with a how-to book.