Читать книгу The Texas Soldier's Son - Karen Whiddon - Страница 11

Chapter 2

That night, even tequila couldn’t dull Kyle’s night terrors. Though he’d never been a fan of alcohol, after the explosion he’d learned that self-medicating helped. The news about Nicole had been another kind of explosion, blowing up everything he’d had left to live for. Though for Nicole, an entire year had passed and she’d gone on with her life, for him it felt like barely a few months had passed. Being in a coma for a long time had that effect on a person.

He’d never seen this betrayal coming. Not in a million years. In a shaky world full of snipers and IEDs, Nicole’s love had been the one constant, the one certainty he’d believed he could count on. Clearly, their relationship had been nothing but a lie to her.

He drank enough to pass out, alternating with beer, before switching to the more potent moonshine. Once he couldn’t see straight, he staggered into the bedroom and the lumpy mattress that had come with the house and let his body fall onto the bed.

He prayed and hoped for at least a couple of hours oblivion, knowing he’d be lucky to get even that. But when he sat straight up in bed with a gasp, while thunder cracked and boomed outside, he hadn’t been surprised to find himself automatically reaching for his weapon. Thunder sounded like explosions. It took him a full twelve seconds to realize the flashes of light were actually lightning, accompanying the roar of steady rain.

A storm. East Texas thunder boomer. Like someone had sliced a hole in the clouds and let the water all dump out at once. It didn’t rain like this in Afghanistan. Proof positive that he was home, that it all hadn’t been a dream.

And then he remembered Nicole. The pain slicing through his gut had him doubling over, nausea coming in waves. Racing for the bathroom, he barely made it before retching up the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl.

Once he thought he was done, he rinsed his mouth out with mouthwash and went back to bed, pulling the covers over his head and trying to shut down his brain. But he couldn’t stop thinking about what a cluster his life had become.

He’d rented this house for six months, paying cash in advance including the deposit. According to the rental contract, he had to stay there the entire time or forfeit the money. He supposed he could walk away, but the truth of the matter was he had nowhere else to go. Anniversary was his hometown, where he’d grown up, gone to school and planned to settle and raise his own kids someday.

Kids. Another jolt, straight to the heart. The only woman he’d ever wanted to have children with now had one of her own, with another man.

Covering his eyes, he listened to the storm raging outside, matching the emotions inside.

Finally, he must have fallen asleep. When he next opened his eyes, sunshine streamed through the bedroom windows, relentlessly cheerful. With the morning came clarity. He knew what he had to do. Find Nicole and demand an explanation. She owed him that at least.

Since he hadn’t had time to stock the place with groceries, he decided he’d head downtown and have breakfast at the café. A couple of cups of coffee and some fried eggs, biscuits and gravy, and bacon would do wonders to banish the lingering nausea from the night before.

Stepping outside, the humidity and heat made him smile. Another sign he was home, because the desert heat had been brutal and dry. This was Texas, familiar and welcome.

Downtown hadn’t changed a bit. He lucked out and found a parking space right in front of the café. Inside, he saw Trudy Blevins, self-dubbed nosiest woman in Anniversary, apparently interviewing customers for either her newspaper column or her radio segment. Huge, flamboyant earrings swung from her ears and she chewed gum in between talking. Though he kept his back to her, he found the sight of her oddly reassuring. Proof that some things at least, never changed.

Taking a seat at the countertop, he grinned when the owner Jed Rodgers caught sight of him and did a double take. Jed made a beeline for him, hand outstretched. “Let me shake your hand,” the older man exclaimed. When Kyle went to shake, instead Jed pulled him close for a quick guy hug. “I’ve never been so glad to see someone in my life. Everyone thought you were dead.”

Kyle ducked his head. “Clearly, I’m not. What I am, though, is starving.”

“Tell me what you want.” Jed got out his order pad. “Whatever you get, it’s on the house.”

Touched, Kyle thanked him and placed his order. Jed carried it to the kitchen, returning with a mug and the pot of coffee. “Here you go. You still drink it black, right?”

“Yep.” The first sip tasted like it always had, strong and rich. “I don’t know what kind of coffee you brew, but it’s the best I’ve tasted anywhere.”

Jed acknowledged the compliment with a shrug. People had been after him for years to reveal his coffee’s secret. He claimed it was a secret he planned to carry to the grave.

Since the breakfast crowd had begun to thin out, the two waitresses were able to handle the rest of the customers. Jed leaned on the counter, settling in for a chat.

“Big news going on here in our small town,” Jed drawled. “The jaws are a’ waggin’, that’s for sure.”

“Because I’m back?” Kyle hoped not. The last thing he wanted or needed right now was Trudy Blevins shoving her microphone in his face and rattling off questions.

“Well, that too. But no, recently we had our first murder.”

Since Jed didn’t sound grief stricken, Kyle could only assume the deceased had been someone Jed didn’t know well.

The cook rang the little bell to signify an order was up. Jed grabbed it and slid the plate in front of Kyle. Two fried eggs, sunny-side up. Biscuits with creamy sausage gravy. Crispy bacon and a side of grits.

“I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven—for real this time,” Kyle said. “We couldn’t get food like this in Afghanistan. Not in the hospital either.”

“Dig in, son.” Jed wiped his hands on his apron and smiled, before refilling Kyle’s coffee cup. “I’m going to go talk to Trudy and see if she’s heard anything new about the murder.”

Mouth full, Kyle waved him away. Gossip had always been a hot commodity in this town, though he figured most small communities were probably like that. As for him, he couldn’t have cared less. Once he’d inhaled his breakfast and sucked down some caffeine, he planned to figure out where exactly Nicole lived and pay her a visit. She at least owed him some sort of explanation.

Luckily, everyone left him alone to eat in peace. But the second he pushed his empty plate away, Trudy Blevins hustled over.

“Kyle Benning,” she trilled. “If you aren’t a sight for sore eyes.”

Taking a deep breath, Kyle turned to face her. “Thank you, ma’am. It’s great to finally be back in town.”

“I imagine it is.” She wore a cat-about-to-eat-a-canary look. “And I’m guessing you probably heard about the murder.”

He shrugged. “Jed mentioned something about a murder. I’m sorry to hear about that. Anniversary has always been such a safe place.”

“Oh, it still is, I’m thinking.” Expression turning sly, she climbed up on the stool next to him as if she meant to stay awhile. Which he supposed was fine, because he certainly did not. He signaled Jed for the check, but Jed waved him away, mouthing again that the meal was on the house.

“Word is, the killer was someone who knew the dead man all too well,” Trudy continued.

Kyle gave a polite nod, keeping his expression disinterested. He made a show out of checking his watch. “I’m sorry, but I have to run,” he began.

She grabbed his arm. “Wait. I’d think this story would be a particular interest to you. In fact, I’d like to report on your reaction.”

“Trudy?” He stared pointedly at her hand on his forearm, making it clear her touch wasn’t exactly welcome. She finally huffed and removed it.

“Trudy,” he repeated. “Look, I just got back in town yesterday. While I’m sure I’ve got a lot to catch up on, I’ve got too much to do right now. I’ll catch up with everything on the local news later tonight.”

Was that a flash of disappointment in her gaze? But no, she shook her head, clearly undeterred. “Since this case involves your former girlfriend Nicole Shelton, I’d think you might find it a tiny bit interesting.”

Nicole? A shudder of foreboding ripped through him, though he worked hard to prevent that from showing. “Are you telling me Nicole was murdered?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice steady.

Trudy cocked her head, sending those earrings of hers swinging. “Nicole isn’t dead, sugar. Nicole’s husband, Bill, is. And the talk around town is that she might be the one who killed him. The sheriff has already told her not to leave town. Can you imagine?”

Stunned, he could only stare, unable to think coherently enough to hide his shock. “I...”

Her malicious smile widened. She pulled out her microphone, fumbling with her recorder before looking up at him again. “On the record, would you tell the good folks of Anniversary how you feel about this news?”

How he felt? He’d been through hell and back, only to return home to find the rug had not only been ripped out from under him, but set on fire as well. He used every bit of his ranger training to mentally pull himself up by his bootstraps. Squaring his shoulders, he lifted his chin and looked Trudy right in the eyes. “I’ve been gone a year, ma’am. And I haven’t talked to Nicole at all, not in all that time. While I’m not sure why folks believe she’d be capable of murder, I can tell you this. The Nicole Shelton I know wouldn’t hurt a fly. Hell, the woman even carried spiders outside if they got in the house. I can’t imagine her killing another human being. Not at all.”

Undeterred, Trudy licked her bright red lips. “Well, it appears you are wrong. But time will tell. The truth will come out in the end.”

Kyle stood, inclining his head politely. “I’m sure it will, ma’am.” With a quick wave at Jed, he strode off toward the door.

Outside, he squinted in the bright sunlight. He walked to his pickup, unlocked the doors and climbed up inside. Ignition on, AC up full blast. He had no idea where to go, just that he needed to drive.

He cruised slowly down Main Street, turning at the bank, and continued on until he’d reached a residential area. The houses here were large and well maintained, several sporting the brass historical plaques that marked them as restored homes of significance. Pulling over to the curb, he parked. Using his phone, he navigated to the county tax assessor website and put in the name Bill Mabry.

Bingo. Interesting, that the house title was only in Bill’s name. Nicole wasn’t included. And the date of purchase was a little more than one year ago, which meant he’d bought the house before he and Nicole were married.

He put the address into his GPS and punched Drive. To his surprise, the house was only a couple of blocks away. Driving slow, he went past, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might leap out of his chest. At the end of the street, he made a U-turn. This time, he parked in front of the house across the street. The two-story, rock-and-wood structure looked sleek and modern, yet somehow fit in perfectly with the restored historical homes surrounding it. The perfectly manicured lawn, numerous trees and flower gardens were all well-tended, like something out of a glossy magazine. No doubt the inside of the luxurious home was filled with expensive furniture and matching colors.

He tried to picture Nicole living there, her adoring husband at her side, her baby in her arms, and realized she’d fit right in. In fact, this kind of lifestyle was exactly what he’d wanted for her, for them, even if he’d imagined it would take a while to get to that place. While he’d saved every dollar he could from his military service, he’d planned for the two of them to start out like most young couples did, with a much more modest home.

Looks like she’d managed to skip right over all that by marrying Bill Mabry, the guy her parents had been trying to set her up with all through high school. She’d claimed to find him repulsive, describing several awkward Sunday night suppers when her parents had invited him over.

Kyle guessed she’d lied. Either that, or her parents and Bill Mabry had finally worn her down, probably while she was mourning over Kyle’s supposed death. At least he hoped she’d grieved for him. He studied the house again and came to a decision. There was only one way to find out.

He hustled up the sidewalk, moving fast so he wouldn’t reconsider and change his mind. He rang the bell, listening as sonorous chimes reverberated inside the house, followed immediately by a baby’s loud wailing.

No one came to the door. Instead, he imagined Nicole went to comfort her infant. Heart still racing, he waited, telling himself he’d count to thirty before ringing the doorbell again.

At twenty-nine, the door opened, just a tiny crack. “Go away.” Nicole’s voice, making his stomach do a somersault. “I’ve already told you people I’m not talking to any reporters. My husband just died. Leave me alone.”

“Nicole.” He spoke her name, knowing she’d recognize his voice. “It’s me. Kyle.”

Silence. “Kyle’s dead. What kind of monster would play a cruel trick like this?” she cried out, before slamming the door shut in his face.

Still he waited, trying for patience. Even though she’d married another man immediately after his supposed death, he battled an overwhelming urge to kick the door in and yank her into his arms. Every fiber of his being, every fighting instinct to live, had been about her. Getting back to her. Holding her.

He blinked, hard, his eyes stinging. The one thing he’d never expected had been this betrayal.

When she didn’t come back, he knocked. Not a quiet brush of his knuckles against the polished wood. No, this determined rapping was to let her know he wasn’t going away until she faced him. She at least owed him that.

Finally, she opened the door, all the way this time. “Kyle?” she croaked. She’d gone pale as a ghost and swayed on her feet, as if on the verge of fainting. At least she wasn’t holding her baby. Even though she’d borne another man’s child, he didn’t want her to inadvertently injure an infant.

“In the flesh.” He jerked his head in a nod, emotion warring inside him. He was furious with her, as he had every right to be, but his soul rejoiced at just the sight of her. Still tiny, slender and petite, she wore her long brown hair the same way she always had. Her hazel eyes were rimmed in red, as if she’d been crying—of course she had, her husband had just died—and even now tears made the ends of her long dark lashes glisten.

Despite all this, she was still just as beautiful. This pissed him off more than it should have. Damned if he could stomach seeing her while she mourned another man. “Did you cry for me too?” he asked—no, demanded. “Tell me you did, because it didn’t appear to be all that long after my supposed death when you went and got yourself married off to him.”

“Kyle,” she repeated, her voice breaking. All at once, he realized she was on the verge of shattering into a million pieces. He moved to help her without conscious thought.

At the last minute, when he would have reached her and hauled her up close against him, she stepped aside, shaking her head.

“This can’t be real,” she muttered. Just then, her baby began crying again and she hurried away, into the house. Though she hadn’t invited Kyle to follow, she hadn’t told him to leave either, so he went after her.

She picked up her son and put him to her shoulder, rubbing his back in soft circles and making soothing sounds. The baby’s crying tapered off, replaced with quiet hiccupping sounds. She glanced at Kyle, her child held protectively against her, and made a strangled sound.

“You’re still here? This isn’t just some kind of dream?”

Before he could reply, she continued talking, almost as if to herself rather than him. “Kyle, I’m not sure how this is possible, but you’re dead. And now you’re not.”

“Sit down,” he told her, his tone gentler than she deserved. Once she had, he told her what had happened to him, all of it. Beginning with the IED exploding, the fact that he’d been holding his friend’s dog tag, and the months he’d spent in a coma in a hospital. Then the rehab, learning to walk again and, finally, coming home to learn the woman he’d expected to marry had become the wife of another man. He didn’t tell her the rest of it, about the PTSD he battled, because it was no longer any of her concern.

She listened quietly, tears slipping down her cheeks to be wiped away with the back of her hand. Her baby rooted around her chest, clearly seeking her breast, and finally she grabbed a baby blanket and arranged it so the infant could nurse. She looked the picture of maternal perfection, gazing lovingly at her child while her body gave sustenance.

It was almost too much for Kyle. But he’d already been to hell and clawed his way back. He’d come here for explanations and damned if he’d go without getting them.

When the baby finally finished, she rearranged her clothing and the blanket and put his tiny body against her shoulder so he could burp. Kyle continued to watch her, willing himself to feel nothing, though he failed miserably. A tempest of emotion raged inside him, ranging from a kind of joyous relief that they once again occupied the same space, to disappointment, hurt and gut-wrenching jealously. This should have been his wife, his baby. All the plans he’d made, all the hard work and sweat and tears had been supposed to culminate in this.

Instead, he’d been given the middle finger.

They both sat silently for a moment. He took a deep breath and met her gaze, steeling himself against the attraction—still—he felt when he looked at her.

“Your turn,” he said, his tone harsh. “I get that your husband was murdered, but you at least owe me that.”

She nodded once. “My turn,” she repeated, her voice soft. “And I’ll explain. But first, give me a moment to digest the fact that you’re really alive, and here.”

He’d bet it was a shock. She must have thought since he’d been killed, he’d never find out how quickly she’d managed to move on with her life. As if he—and what they’d had—had never mattered. A blip on her lifeline, here one day, gone the next. While for him, she’d been everything. His entire world.

With a nod, he gave her the time she requested. While she burped her baby, he prowled around the room, looking for some clue about what her life with her husband had been like. There were no photos of the two of them, none of the baby either. Just impersonal modern art prints of a type that a year ago he would have sworn didn’t match her personality. She’d loved bold, vibrant colors. Not this watered-down neutral decoration surrounding her now.

In fact, the entire living room had an impersonal feel. It looked like they’d hired a decorator and let her have free rein, without any personal input. The blues and beige was tasteful; the faint touch of yellow put some color in just the right places, but none of it gave him any insight into the people who lived here.

Part of him was glad. Nicole and he had spent countless nights talking about what their first house would be like. She’d been carefree when with him, and had spoken of the bright, rich colors she’d use. She wanted, she’d said, each room to be a tapestry with a story to tell.

If this room told a story, it would be as boring as hell.

Finally, he’d had enough of the silence and turned. Her baby had finished burping and she had him in her arms, moving with a rocking motion as if to put him to sleep.

“Well?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“Let me put him down,” she said. “He’ll want to sleep now that he’s been fed and changed.”

Without waiting for a reply, she hurried off, heading toward a small room off a hallway downstairs. When she returned a moment later without the infant, she swallowed. “I keep a bassinette in the office downstairs so I’m not having to run him up to the nursery during the day. At night, since all the bedrooms are upstairs, he sleeps in his crib. Which is okay, since I have a baby monitor and am able to keep tabs on him.”

Apparently realizing she was babbling, she ceased talking and sighed. Walking toward him, she stopped a few feet away and stared up at him, her expression full of wonder. “Do you have any idea what I would have given to have known you were alive? I grieved your loss deeply.”

Anger blossomed inside him. Despite that, he still had to shove his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her. “When, Nicole?” he demanded. “Before you got married? How long did you wait after getting word I’d been killed in action? Because from where I’m standing, it doesn’t seem very long at all.”

Her mouth worked. Again, tears came. This time, she covered her face with her hands and wept, her shoulders shaking. The old Kyle would have rushed to console her, but she no longer belonged to him. Instead he took a step back.

He shouldn’t have come here, he realized. Nothing would change. Hearing her mouth whatever explanation she came up with would do little to assuage the rawness of his pain, the aching sense of betrayal by the one person he’d believed would always have his back. Still, he couldn’t seem to get his feet to moving, so he stood and watched her cry.

“I’m waiting,” he finally said, the rasp in his voice in keeping with his frustration. “How long, Nicole?”

“It’s not what you think,” she began, her voice thick and trembling. “I really had no choice.”

“Bull.” He snarled the word. “Spare me the crap. I joined the army for us. So we could have a future. Every waking moment, every mission, every return to base, my first thought was of you. If the situation had been reversed, do you honestly think I’d have gotten married a month after you’d died? Do you?” He didn’t shout the words, partly because he didn’t want to disturb her baby, but also because volume wouldn’t make any difference. She had to know he was right, yet the sorrowful look in her eyes didn’t contain remorse or guilt. Just pain. Something he’d grown intimately familiar with.

“I was pregnant, Kyle,” she said, her voice shaking. “My parents were going to throw me out onto the street. I had to do something to protect my baby, so I took the coward’s way out and married Bill as they insisted.”

He hadn’t thought she could hurt him any worse, but somehow she had. “You’re telling me you slept with Bill Mabry after you learned I’d been killed in action?”

If he expected her to hang her head, he was wrong. Instead, she lifted her chin and looked him square in the eyes. “No. I’m telling you I was pregnant with your child when you left me the last time. You’d gone on a mission, so I couldn’t tell you. I’d planned to, the next time you called. Instead, I received word you’d been killed by an IED. Jacob is your son.”