Читать книгу The Texan's Return - Karen Whiddon - Страница 11
ОглавлениеAfter a restless night, Mac abandoned any attempt at sleeping and got up with the sun. He showered and dressed, then quietly padded into the kitchen to make coffee and a pan of oatmeal. He fixed his breakfast and ate, leaving the rest of the oatmeal for Gus to have when he woke.
The sound of the television coming on alerted Mac that Gus was up. Gus loved to watch the morning news, a habit he’d no doubt developed while in prison as he’d always been an evening news kind of guy before.
“Are you ready for breakfast?” Mac called. He’d nuke the oatmeal, add raisins, a spoonful of protein powder and milk, and carry it in to his father.
“Mac!” Gus tried to shout, but only succeeded in a loud croak. “Come in here. You’ve got to see this.”
Mac hurried in, just in time to hear the news reporter comment on a teenage girl’s murder that had happened a few hours ago in the tiny east Texas town of Legacy. The reporter informed them excitedly that this was the first murder in ten years, the first since Brenda Green’s body was found in this exact same spot.
Stunned, Mac reeled. Glancing at his father, who wore a grim expression of pain mingled with satisfaction on his wasted face, he looked back at the television.
Ten years to the day. And right after Mac and Gus had come back to town. Then, a combination of relief and horror flooded through him. Relief, because anyone looking at his father could tell instantly he wouldn’t have been able to do it—the man could barely even walk, for pity’s sake—and horror because of the killer’s choice of date and place. Ten long years had passed since the first murder. What would make someone do such a thing to celebrate such a gruesome anniversary? It had to be the original killer. Had to be.
“See?” Gus said quietly, switching off the television once the segment had ended. “You know as well as I do that this has to be the same person who killed Brenda Green. Why else would they kill again at the same location, on the same date? More proof I didn’t do it.”
While Mac agreed, he had to wonder about the timing. Ten long years had passed since a killing. If it had been the same person, what had been the reason for the huge gap? Now Gus had returned to Legacy and immediately another girl got murdered? It sure sounded like someone was trying to set Gus up.
But why? For what reason? It might have worked, too, except whoever it was had no idea how fast the illness had marched through Gus’s body.
“Now you have even more incentive to find out who the real killer is,” Gus continued. “Not just to clear my name, but to make sure no other young girl suffers a horrible fate.” The older man’s eyes glistened.
“I’m sure the police will be working hard to solve the case,” Mac said.
“Right. Like they did ten years ago? No. They didn’t find the right man then, and I doubt they will now.”
Gus swiped his hand across his face and shook his head. “The hell I’ve been through. While I know it’s nothing like what the Greens suffered, knowing everyone believes you’re a monster is its own kind of torture. Not to mention rotting in prison for something I didn’t do.”
Not sure what to say, Mac squeezed his father’s shoulder. “Now how about that breakfast? Or do you need to use the restroom first?”
“Already been.” He sounded like a little kid who’d pulled a fast one. Since he wasn’t supposed to try to walk unassisted, in a way he had.
Mac had already lectured him on this the day before, so he decided to let it pass this time. “Then I guess I need to bring you some food.”
“Okay,” Gus said, grimacing. “To be honest with you, I’m not sure how much I can eat.”
“I made oatmeal. Your favorite. At least you can try.”
“That I can do. I sure wish I could have coffee, though.”
“I’ll make you some decaf.”
After putting everything on a tray, Mac carried it in and placed it in front of his dad. He pulled up a chair next to the bed, figuring he could make conversation while getting a look at how much his dad managed to eat.
To his surprise, Gus ate most of the oatmeal. He drank all the juice and took a few sips of the decaf coffee before proclaiming himself done.
“You did great,” Mac said, pleased.
“Thanks. Now, how about you help me make it to the bathroom? I want to take a shower.”
Mac had installed handrails in the master bedroom shower. Luckily, it was a walk-in, so Gus had no problem getting in or out.
After Gus had showered and dried off, Mac helped him dress and took his arm to lead him back to bed. Gus tired easily these days, and they’d discovered early on it was better to let him stay in the bed rather than a chair. One incident of him sliding down the floor and being unable to get up had proved that.
Settled back against his pillow, Gus proclaimed himself comfortable. Mac asked him if he needed anything. He’d planned to do more repair work on the exterior of the house. Checking on Gus every thirty minutes, of course.
“Sit and talk awhile.” Gus jerked his chin to indicate the chair next to the bed. “I won’t take much of your time.” He grinned as he glanced at the clock. “My game show comes on in ten minutes.”
Smiling back, Mac took a seat. He treasured this time with his father and was grateful to have it. It almost made up for the ten years lost—almost, but not really.
“So tell me, have you seen her yet?” Gus asked.
Even though they both knew who he meant, Mac considered feigning ignorance just to tease. But in the end, he simply nodded. “I have.”
“How is she? Still as pretty?”
Mac sighed. “Even more so. She didn’t really want to talk, to put it mildly. I let her know we were back in town, and that was about it.”
“I’m sorry, son.” Gus reached up and squeezed Mac’s arm. “I know how much you loved her.”
Loved. Past tense. Sometimes Mac wished that’s where his feelings could stay. But to hope such a thing was foolish. One glance at Hailey and he’d known that.
“Still do,” he confessed. “I’m hoping to get a second chance with her.”
“Glad to hear it.” Gus studied him, his gaze sharp as ever. “But don’t just hope. Act. Good things only come to those who work hard to get them.”
Hearing his father repeat the old adage Mac had heard growing up made him grin. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Now I’d better get to work. And you’ve got your game show to watch.”
Nodding, Gus clicked on the TV. Even as the opening music came on, his eyes were already drifting closed.
Getting up and moving quietly away, Mac left him alone to rest. He removed and replaced three back window screens before heading inside to check on his father. He found Gus sound asleep, the television still on.
Next up, Mac wanted to fix a leaky pipe under the sink in the guest bathroom. He spent the next several hours repairing small things, checking them off a long list he’d made.
Come lunchtime, Mac made a couple of sandwiches. He fixed both him and his dad identical plates, chips and a large dill pickle for both of them. After pouring two glasses of iced tea, he carried everything into the living room and loudly cleared his throat.
Startled, Gus opened his eyes and sat up. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing much. Just brought us a little lunch.”
Side by side, they ate. Once again, Gus pleasantly surprised Mac with his appetite. “You’re really eating well today,” Mac told him. He’d noticed some days were better than others.
Gus shrugged. “I’m hungry for some reason.” He covered his mouth with his hand and yawned. “But all this food makes me sleepy.”
“You go ahead and rest.” Gathering up the plates, Mac carried them to the kitchen. “I’ll check on you later.”
Yawning again, Gus nodded. When Mac glanced back on his way to the kitchen, his father was already asleep.
The rest of the day passed quickly. Mac kept busy, tackling all the smaller jobs first before he attempted the bigger ones. He’d gone inside to check on Gus and to fix himself a drink when Trudy Blevins, the lone reporter for the local radio station, showed up at the front door. She rang the bell, which only made a dry buzzing sound. Of course, this was one of the many things Mac needed to repair but hadn’t gotten around to yet.
When he answered, he stepped out on the porch, unwilling to let her inside. She identified herself, and he nodded, deciding not to tell her he remembered her from the time she’d given a talk on career day during his senior year in high school. She hadn’t aged that much since then.
“I guess you heard,” she began, clearly not wanting to waste any time on small talk. “Since the murder sort of coincides with you and your father’s return, I wanted to see if you had any comments you wanted to make. I work for the newspaper, too, and I’ve been receiving calls from some of the larger TV stations in both Dallas and Houston.”
“Are you kidding?” he asked, more out of shock than any real curiosity.
Trudy didn’t even crack a smile. Chewing gum so violently her dangly earrings swayed, she stared at him hard. “Nope.”
Now he was really glad he hadn’t invited her in. “My father is sick. Actually, he’s dying. While he’s not yet completely bedridden, he’s getting to where he can barely walk. It’s a major effort for him to make it to the bathroom. So if you’re out here fishing for some clue that would make you think he did it, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“Oh, it wasn’t him I was curious about,” Trudy said. Something in the caustic tone of her voice should have warned him. “It was you. Like father, like son and all that. Continuing the tradition, are ya?”
If she’d been a man, he would have decked her. Instead, hands clenched into fists, he settled for turning around, stepping inside and closing the door in her smug, supercilious face.
“Who was that, son?” His father’s querulous voice trembled with the effort required to speak.
“Somebody selling magazines,” he lied one more time, since there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d have his dad worrying about this while struggling with the process of dying.
* * *
As usual, Hailey had the early evening news on while cooking dinner. The twins were up in their room, supposedly doing homework but probably using their shared cell phone to text friends. Eli had finished his schoolwork and had gone outside to ride his bike. And her mother had not yet roused herself enough to venture out of her bedroom.
Which meant when the news story came on, Hailey heard it alone.
Shock had her frozen as she listened, unable to move. The reporter’s words echoed inside her head, as if everything had slowed down to a crawl. Another. Murdered. Girl. Anniversary of Brenda’s death.
It had happened that morning. Suddenly, Hailey was fiercely glad she hadn’t watched TV or listened to the radio all day.
They showed the dead girl’s picture, culled from Facebook. Slender, her pert nose covered in freckles. Blond hair, blue eyes. She could have been Brenda’s twin.
Pain slammed into her, followed by disbelief. Not again, not again. How was it possible that such an atrocity had been allowed to reoccur after an entire decade had passed?
Finally she sucked in a gasp of air, then another. And then she remembered. Gus Morrison. Mac had brought him back to town. The killer had been freed, and he’d killed again.
Her surroundings spun as she battled to maintain her bearings. Though Mac had claimed his father was sick, the timing was just too awful to be a coincidence. Gus goes to prison and no more killings. Gus is released and bam. Another young girl loses her life. Another family is torn apart.
Feeling physically ill, she reached for the phone. She needed to alert the police, to let them know a monster had returned to their midst. Though they probably already knew, she’d feel better checking, just in case.
As her fingers connected with the receiver, the phone rang. Though she didn’t recognize the number, she answered anyway. “Hello?”
“Hailey? Have you seen the news?”
She would have recognized the voice anywhere. Ice and heat simultaneously coursed through her veins. “Mac.” Her throat closed, making it impossible to say anything else.
“I take it you’ve heard another girl has been murdered.”
This time, she managed to croak a response. “Yes.”
“It’s horrible. I considered calling you this morning, but I figured you needed time to process it. I wanted to let you know, I’m going to talk to the police. I’m hoping they’ll consider reopening the investigation into your sister’s murder.”
Whatever she might have expected him to say, it hadn’t been this. “I don’t understand. Why would they do that? The case was solved. They got a conviction.”
“Don’t you see? If anything, this proves my father didn’t kill Brenda.”
Stunned, she wasn’t sure how to respond. She’d always known Mac believed his father to be innocent. But this...
She replied the only way she could, letting her own emotions show. “Does it? Does it really? Because from where I sit, it’s the opposite. No one was killed while your dad was in prison. He gets out, and immediately there’s another murder. It doesn’t take a police detective to figure that out.”
Silence. Then, he sighed. “He’s not capable of hurting anyone, Hailey. He’s really ill. I promised him I’d try to clear his name. Now that someone else has been killed, the police might be more inclined to look at Brenda’s murder again.”
She felt like she was living a nightmare. “If you get them to reopen the case, then that will stir everything up again. My brothers and sister don’t remember any of this, and June...” She swallowed hard. “June drinks.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“No.” Deep breath. And again. “You aren’t. You couldn’t be, since all of this is your fault. I don’t understand why you brought him back here. How can you be so blind?”
“You need to come over and see him. Come see for yourself.”
Clearly, he hadn’t carefully considered his words or how they’d affect her. Or maybe he’d lost his mind. “No, I don’t. I don’t feel the need to ever lay eyes on that man again.”
“He’s dying, Hailey,” Mac repeated, his voice breaking.
She steeled her heart, quashing the rush of pity she felt at his words. “So you say. But as long as he’s still alive, I can’t feel safe. Nor should any other female in this town.” The harshness of her words made her inwardly wince, but she didn’t call them back or apologize. She only spoke the truth, whether or not Mac wanted to hear it.
“That’s why you need to come. See for yourself. You’ll know he’s not well enough to have done this.” He inhaled sharply, making her remember the old way he’d given her warning that she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say. “I’d never have pegged you for a coward, Hailey. Clearly I was wrong.”
He ended the call before she could respond.
Staring at the phone, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and throw the damn thing against the wall. Coward.
She fumed all through dinner, his words echoing over and over in his head. He knew, of course, that she’d taken real pride in her courage, her ability to face the greatest challenges head-on. This belief in her own ability had been necessary to help her get through the dark days after Brenda’s death. She’d had no choice but to pull herself together and step into the shoes her mother had vacated. She’d been the glue that held their small family together, with no real adult guidance.
She’d done the best she could. She still did. Every single day. A coward, she was not.
But for Mac—someone she hadn’t seen or talked to since she’d been seventeen—to blatantly try to use this word to compel her to do what he wanted—struck her as pretty low. Lower than low, actually.
Yet she still hadn’t broached the subject of the most recent murder with the kids. So maybe part of her was a coward. She knew she had to tell them, eventually. But they needed to get to enjoy their meal first.
“Are you all right?” Tara, usually completely absorbed with her phone, eyed her. “You seem... Are you mad about something?”
Her twin, Tom, snorted and kept shoveling macaroni and cheese into his mouth. Ever since the previous year when he’d turned thirteen, he could eat as much as all of them put together. Growing boy.
Eli, the youngest at eleven, continued eating, too, though he paused long enough to frown up at her. “Are you getting sick?” He twisted his mouth at her. “At school Jody Peirce said his mom says your boyfriend was back in town.” He cocked his head, eyeing her with open curiosity. Tara and Tom both swung their gaze to her, waiting for her answer.
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she countered, even though hearing another child had said this to her brother made her fume. “Ya’ll know that. When would I have time to date anyone?”
Eli shrugged. She thought that might be the end of it, but Eli wasn’t done. “Jody said he was your old boyfriend. From back when you were in high school.”
Tom and Tara exchanged looks at this. “Whoa,” Tara said. “Is this that hot guy who was in all your old photo albums?”
“What were you doing snooping through my things?” Best to counterattack rather than give a direct answer. “Those photo albums were locked up.”
“In that beat-up old hope chest in your room.” Scorn dripped from Tara’s voice. “The lock is so old and rusty, a paper clip opened it.”
“Tara Jean...”
“What? I wanted to see what you looked like back when you were young.”
Ouch. That stung.
“And I saw your old boyfriend. So what? I didn’t hurt anything. I put everything back exactly where you left it.”
“That isn’t the point,” Hailey began. Before she could finish, their mother shuffled into the kitchen and headed for the refrigerator. Opening it, she perused the contents. Finally, she grabbed the orange juice and began drinking it, straight from the carton.
Both Hailey and Tara winced.
“Do you want any dinner, Mom?” Hailey asked. “I made tuna casserole with macaroni and cheese and peas.” She made this often because it was one of the best ways she knew to stretch dollars to feed them for a couple of days. Except with the way Tom ate these days, they’d be lucky to have enough to have again tomorrow.
“Not that.” June viewed the casserole dish with scorn. “I’ll just have some cereal.”
Except if she did, there wouldn’t be enough milk for the kids to have breakfast tomorrow. With the ease of habit, Hailey moved to intercept and redirect her. “You need protein, Mom. Tuna has lots of protein.”
Steering June to the empty chair across from Eli, Hailey helped her get settled. Eli shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. Tom continued devouring his meal, while Tara pretended a sudden interest in her fingernails.
June didn’t appear to notice the silence. She took a second swig of her orange juice. “This would go great with some champagne,” she muttered.
Hailey hurriedly fixed a plate, careful not to put too much food on it. June rarely ate while nursing a hangover. For whatever reason, food seemed to appeal to her only when she’d started drinking. When she had a buzz, as she called it. The kids were used to it; over the years this had become their normal.
Able to remember a time—Before—when her mother hadn’t been like this, Hailey had never grown accustomed to her mother slurping down wine or bourbon or beer—whatever she could get—her eyes growing shiny, her words slurring as she took staggering steps toward the fridge or television, holding on to the wall.
She used to say she drank to dull her agony. These days, she drank because she was addicted, an alcoholic. Hailey wanted to get her help, but she didn’t know how. She also knew her mother had to want help before she could begin the process of changing. June wasn’t there yet. Hailey didn’t know if she’d ever be.
“What’s this about a boyfriend?” June’s gaze sharpened, as she picked the peas out of her casserole. “Hallelujah, if you finally got one. It’s got to have been forever since you got la—”
“Mother.” Firmly, Hailey interrupted. She knew what June had been about to say, but there was no way she wanted any of the kids to hear it. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Not at all.”
Frowning in confusion, June looked from Hailey to Tara and back again. “But I thought I heard...”
“He’s from the past,” Eli put in, no doubt trying to be helpful and completely unaware he was making things worse. “An old high school boyfriend.”
Hearing this, June dropped her fork with a clatter. “What?” Eyes narrowed to slits, she glared at Eli before transferring her focus to Hailey. “You only had one boyfriend in high school that I know of. What are you doing talking to Mac Morrison after what he did to our family?”
Great. Now Hailey felt obligated to defend him. “First up, Mac didn’t do anything to anyone. And second...” Then she closed her mouth, not sure exactly what she could say that wouldn’t cause her mom to vent an explosion of rage or descend into a black hole of self-pity. Either one would be considered a good enough reason to get drunk, as if June needed a reason.
“You were saying?” Arms crossed, chin up and dinner forgotten, June appeared spoiling for a fight. Hailey’s heart ached as she remembered the woman her mother used to be. Though it had been a long time, Hailey had never lost hope of someday getting that woman back.
“Nothing.” Ducking her head, Hailey resorted to a ploy from childhood. “Aren’t you going to eat? You need to get something in your stomach if you want to feel better.”
June glared. Then she shoved her plate away so hard she jostled Eli’s glass, spilling milk all over the table. Eli jumped up and grabbed a paper towel to try to mop it up. “I ain’t eating this slop,” she declared. “And don’t try to change the subject.”
Tom scraped the last bit of macaroni off his plate and mumbled an excuse before fleeing the room. Eli shot Hailey a panicked look. Shifting side to side, he appeared torn between following his brother or staying to support his oldest sister. Meanwhile, Tara made it plain she wasn’t going anywhere. She kicked back in her chair and watched the verbal exchange with interest.
Hailey knew this was her mother’s disease, not hers. At least not the mother she used to be. “I really think you should—”
“No.” June’s tone had the petulance of a small child. Eli finally decided he’d had enough and rushed out of the kitchen without a word.
Watching him go, Hailey sighed. Her mother’s lips tightened, which meant she’d noticed.
“Mother, please.” Trying again, Hailey gingerly moved June’s plate closer to her. “At least try to eat a little.”
“Not until you promise me you won’t go see that Mac Morrison.”
Though Hailey had already decided she wouldn’t, for whatever reason her mother’s dictate made her want to jump in the car and drive over there. He’d called her a coward. She wasn’t. There was no way she could manage all she did and let fear rule her life.
Yet the possibility of seeing Mac’s father terrified her. Because she wasn’t sure what she might do. What if she lost control and let out the primal, long-buried part of her that thirsted for vengeance? She didn’t think she would, but the sad truth was that the possibility would always be there, lurking underneath the polite veneer of manners.
Gus Morrison had not only taken her sister’s life, he’d destroyed Hailey’s, too.
“That man ruined my life,” June continued. “There’s no way I want any daughter of mine hanging around someone like that. Consider our family’s reputation.”
Since this statement so boggled the mind, Hailey wasn’t sure how to respond. Did June not think staggering around town, slurring her words and passing out in bars had any bearing on what people thought of their family?
Once again, Hailey knew better than to comment. She had no plans to escalate anything. Her first consideration always had to be of her brothers and sister.
Her lack of response seemed to have caused June to lose interest—or her train of thought. She dropped back into her chair with a thud, slid her plate over in front of her and took a couple of rapid bites. “You really believed you loved that boy,” she commented, not raising her eyes from her food. “Head over heels. Aaron and I were sure the two of you would be married someday.”
Surprising how that truth could still hurt. Rather than talk about Mac, Hailey changed the subject to her stepfather, Aaron. He’d taken off in the middle of the fallout and chaos after Brenda’s death.
“Do you ever hear from him, Mom?” Hailey asked in a conversational tone. “I know you two never finalized a divorce or anything.”
“Why would we do that?” June’s tone regained its former sharpness. “Someday we might get back together. Stranger things have happened.”
And there you had it. June alternated between a dark sort of reality and some bizarre fantasyland. If Aaron hadn’t reappeared after ten years, Hailey sort of doubted he would.
Of course, Mac had returned. Who knew, maybe her mother was on to something. Now Hailey just had to figure out whether or not to tell her about the most recent murder.
In the end, she decided to stay quiet. The way June carried on, Hailey figured it’d be better if she didn’t know, at least for now. She’d gather the kids upstairs and fill them all in. After they were aware, then and only then would Hailey discuss it with her mother. That way, everyone would be prepared to deal with June’s reaction, whatever that may be.
