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

Chapter 3

Nicole waited breathlessly for his reaction. If anything, his frown deepened.

“I don’t believe you,” he snarled. “I never would have guessed you’d become such an opportunistic little—”

“Stop.” She cut him off before he could call her whatever name he’d been about to use. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to keep from doubling over with pain. “I can’t deal with this right now. You need to go.”

“Gladly.” He strode to the front without a backward look. She braced herself for the noise when he slammed it, aware it would probably wake the baby, but he surprised her by closing the door with a quiet click.

Heaven help her, after inhaling so quickly it felt like a hiccup, she found herself at the front window, hand to her aching chest, watching until he drove away. The pain was so great it felt like her heart had truly shattered. She felt almost the same as she had the day she’d learned he’d been killed. Almost.

Once he’d gone, she sank down on the couch and allowed herself to break down. She hadn’t cried over Bill’s passing, or over the way his horrible parents treated her. But she cried over this. The man she’d always loved was still alive. Joy and relief at knowing that Kyle Benning still walked the earth warred with sorrow and regret. Clearly, she’d managed to kill whatever he’d once felt for her. And the fact that he could honestly think she’d lie to him about something as vitally important as his own child told her how low she’d sunk in his estimation.

After crying herself out, a steadfast calm came over her. Her life might have become a crapfest, but she still had Jacob. She went into the office and watched him while he slept, letting the all-encompassing love she felt for him fill her heart, rather than pain or worry or regret.

When the doorbell chimed again an hour later, her heart skipped a beat. Now that he’d had time to think about it, had Kyle returned? Baby Jacob still slept, so she hurried to the door, her heart hammering.

Instead of Kyle, two uninformed sheriff’s deputies stood on her stoop. One of them handed her a paper.

“We have a warrant to search your premises, ma’am,” he said. “Please step aside.”

Numb, she did as he asked. She’d only thought this day couldn’t get any worse. Clearly, she’d been wrong.

Though she stood protectively over her son while one of the men searched the office, Jacob woke when the deputy banged a file cabinet drawer shut. Nicole picked him up and soothed him, realizing he needed a diaper change, which she attended to while trying to ignore the sometimes alarming sounds the deputies were making.

They took Bill’s computer and her laptop, promising they’d return it soon. They also took Bill’s expensive bourbon, the used coffee pod still in the machine and several files.

With Jacob in her arms, she followed them from room to room, hating the way this search made her feel violated. They didn’t speak and she didn’t either, except for admonishing them to be careful when it seemed like they were growing careless with some of her perfume bottles.

They took Bill’s cologne and aftershave. It finally dawned on her that they were looking for whatever poison had killed him. Which meant she’d become more than a person of interest—she’d apparently moved right into the position of primary suspect.

As they prepared to leave, the taller of the two turned to face her. “We searched his office at Mabry Trucking too,” he said. Like that would make her feel better. All she could do was nod.

After they’d finally gone, she went about the business of straightening her house, finding comfort in the busywork.

Then she bathed Jacob. After drying him off and putting him in a fresh diaper and onesie, she breathed deeply, loving the clean, baby powder scent of him. Her breasts tingled, reminding her it was nearly feeding time. Jacob latched on, suckling with gusto. Filled with love and finally, a little peace, she watched him drink his fill. After burping him, she placed him in his bassinette to rest and set about making herself something for dinner.

Bill had been a meat-and-potatoes sort of guy and she’d marinated a couple of ribeye steaks. But the thought of eating that made her stomach turn, so she fixed herself a salad with tuna on top instead.

As she carried her empty bowl to the sink, the house phone rang. Caller ID showed her in-laws. After the awful conversation with Theresa before, she decided not to answer. Bill’s mother could leave a voice mail. Nicole didn’t need any more grief after this long and horrible day.

The answering machine picked up. “Nicole? It’s Theresa. We just wanted to let you know that we intend on filing for custody of our grandson.” And she ended the call.

Nicole had to remind herself to breathe. Her disbelief turned to anger. Who did these people think they were? How could they possibly believe any judge would give them custody of her son? She’d done nothing wrong. And she was a wonderful, devoted mother. On what basis did they think they could rip her baby away from her?

Then she realized the Mabrys must truly believe she’d murdered her husband. That would be the only scenario in which she could imagine a judge handing Jacob over to them. If she were convicted of murder and sent to prison, her son would need family to take care of him.

Except she hadn’t killed Bill and she wasn’t going anywhere. Neither was Jacob. She’d fight to her dying breath to keep her boy by her side.

Failing that, there was one tiny fact Bill’s parents were unaware of. A simple DNA test would prove that Jacob wasn’t truly related to them. He carried none of their blood. Bill had known; it had been one of the conditions she’d insisted on when her parents got her to marry him. She wasn’t a liar and there’d been no way she’d try to pass Kyle’s child off as another man’s.

Now Bill’s parents—and the sheriff—clearly believed her capable of murder. Kyle was alive—and she’d rejoice in this knowledge once she could breathe again—and also considered her not only a cheat, but a liar. And she’d lived in Anniversary her entire life, so she knew soon the entire town would be talking and drawing up sides.

What a way to cap an already horrible day.

She truly didn’t know how much more she could take. At least the day was almost over. Soon, she could fall into her bed and escape into the land of dreams.

Right before darkness fell, she headed out front to get the mail from the mailbox. Bill’s credit card statement had arrived. He’d informed her in no uncertain terms that she was never to open his mail, so she usually left these on the kitchen counter for him to open when he got home.

Now Bill was gone and she’d be cancelling all his credit cards. Until then, she’d need to pay all outstanding bills. She slit the envelope and pulled out the statement and blinked.

The total balance was quite a bit more than she’d expected. Nearly two thousand dollars. The list of charges made her stomach clench. Flowers from a florist, three times that month. A twelve-hundred-dollar charge at Guller’s Jewelry Store. Dinner at an expensive Italian restaurant, which mustn’t have been for business since he’d used his personal credit card.

And the final charge was the real kicker. Two hundred and thirty dollars in lingerie at Victoria’s Secret.

None of this had been for her. Bill hadn’t once brought her flowers or gifted her with jewelry or lingerie.

Which meant he had a mistress. Another woman. Which would explain all those nights when he hadn’t come home, claiming to have slept at the office.

A mistress. Rather than dismay or regret, all she felt was relief.

She needed to notify the sheriff. If they didn’t know about this woman, they needed to. Maybe they could get a search warrant for her home too.

* * *

All the way back to his rental house, Kyle muttered a running litany of curses. He’d been hurt and angry before. Now he was furious. How could it be possible that he’d never truly known Nicole at all?

When he passed the sign for the lake, he took a sharp left, catching the turn so fast for a moment he thought his wheels might leave the pavement. He drove to the park at the top of the bluff—once his and Nicole’s favorite spot, though he wouldn’t think of that night.

Out of the truck, he climbed down to the water’s edge, stripping off his clothes as he went. The hot Texas sun beat down on him unmercifully. Finally, clad only in his boxers, he jumped into the lake.

And swam. Clean, crisp strokes, the physical action of using his body to move helping to clear his head. Across the lake he went, all the way to the other shore, before turning around and heading back. He did this three times, until his chest and arms were screaming in protest.

When he finally climbed up on shore, his muscles quivering, he felt better. More like himself. As if he had a snowball’s chance in hell of being in control of his destiny.

Dressing, he climbed back up to his truck. He needed to get to the supermarket and stock up on provisions.

The H-E-B store looked unchanged. He parked and went inside, grabbing a cart. Though he hadn’t made a list, his little rental house was totally empty, so he’d need staples including cleaning supplies, as well as food.

As he perused the choices in paper towels, someone called his name.

He looked up, breaking into a grin. “Bret Atkinson. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

The two men shook hands. He and Bret had been buddies in high school. When Kyle went off after joining the army, Bret had stayed in town and gone to work at his father’s boot repair shop. Bret had married his high school sweetheart, Heather.

“I was pretty damn surprised yesterday when I heard you were in town,” Bret said. “Considering I went to your memorial service about a year ago.”

Once again, Kyle found himself explaining what had happened to him. He figured he might ought to consider printing up his story on paper and handing them out since his appearance clearly was a shock to everyone in town.

“Wow,” Bret marveled when he’d finished. “It’s a shame what’s happening with Nicole, isn’t it?”

“I heard about her husband getting murdered.” Kyle kept his tone noncommittal.

“Yeah, and she’s the prime suspect.”

Though Trudy had said something similar, this was his friend. Bret knew Nicole well. The two couples had spent a lot of time together.

Surely Bret didn’t truly believe Nicole could do such a thing. Kyle wasn’t sure how to react. He waited for Bret to laugh and say he’d been joking, but the expression on his old friend’s face was serious as dirt.

“Really?” Kyle finally asked. “Are you saying the guy had no other enemies?”

“That we know of. He was a deacon at his church, a well-respected community guy, and from what I hear, an easy boss to work for at the trucking company.”

Kyle nodded. “Were he and Nicole happy?” Inwardly, he winced. He hadn’t meant to ask that—the words had just slipped out.

“They appeared to be.” Bret shrugged. “But you know how that can be. Lots of folks just put on a happy face. No one really knows what goes on in private.”

Another stab straight to the gut. Yet Kyle managed an impersonal smile. “How’s Heather?”

Bret’s smile slipped a notch. “We’ve got just about one more month. She’s as big as a house, but hanging in there. She just finished decorating the nursery and says she’s ready. Heck, we both are.”

Then, apparently registering the stunned look on Kyle’s face, he shook his head and grinned. “Sorry. I forgot you didn’t know. Heather’s pregnant. It’s our first. She’s had a few issues, but nothing too serious. We’re hoping the last month will go quickly.”

“Aww, man. Congratulations!” Kyle pounded his friend on the back. “Are you having a boy or a girl?”

“Thanks.” Bret shook his head. “Neither one of us wanted to know the sex of our baby, so I have no idea. All I want is healthy and strong. Heather’s wavered a bit, especially when she started decorating, but she stuck with the plan.”

“Wow,” Kyle marveled. “This is just amazing. You and Heather will make great parents.” A shadow crossed his heart as he thought of Nicole, who’d become a single parent now.

Something must have shown on his face.

“You’ll get there too, Kyle,” Bret said. “Look at all you’ve been through. Yet here you are, back home and ready to start over.”

They talked a few minutes more, exchanged phone numbers and then Bret went on his way. While Kyle continued his shopping, he thought of his old friend’s words. Starting over. In a way, he’d come here to pick up where he and Nicole had left off, yet when he thought of the bright and shining future he’d envisioned for them, he wanted to punch something.

On the way to the checkout line, he ran into Bret again. Bret’s cart was nearly as full as his own. They shared a quick chuckle over that.

“Hey, if you get a chance, stop by for dinner sometime,” Bret invited. “Maybe we can invite Nicole too, so you two can catch up. She’s probably feeling pretty down, being a new widow and all. Though she has that baby of hers to keep her busy. I know Heather’s been dying for some baby time.”

Kyle shook his head. “I stopped by and saw her earlier today.”

“Oh, you did?” Bret eyed him. “Did you get a chance to see Jacob? At first, his eyes were hazel like Nicole’s, but the last time we saw him, they were changing to green. The exact same color as yours.” He laughed. “Heather and I always said he could have been your son.”

With a wave, Bret walked off, getting into one of the three open checkout lines.

Kyle did the same, deliberately choosing the one farthest from his friend. Nicole had said she’d gotten pregnant before he’d headed back to duty overseas. In his bitterness and hurt at her betrayal, he hadn’t believed her. A wave of shame swept through him, followed immediately by anger.

Was it possible he really did have a son? A simple DNA test would prove it.

* * *

Sheriff Cantrell took a look at the Visa bill and yawned. “How do you know these charges were for a mistress?” he asked.

Nicole stared at him in disbelief. “Um, maybe because I never saw any of the things listed.”

He looked again, leaning back in his chair. “Perhaps he bought them for his mother. You know he and Theresa had a close relationship.”

“Victoria’s Secret lingerie?” She tapped the edge of his desk. “Do you really think they had that close of a relationship? That’s not only creepy, it’s sick.”

“Please, Ms. Mabry.” His tone went sharp. “This is your deceased husband we’re talking about. Please show some respect.”

She had to swallow twice to keep from telling him what she thought about his attitude. “Sheriff,” she began, keeping her voice level and reasonable. “My husband was murdered. His credit card bill indicates he bought expensive gifts for another woman. He took her to dinner. I haven’t checked his other months’ bills, but I have a feeling there will be more of the same. My husband had a mistress. There was another woman involved in his life. Since you’re investigating his murder, I’d think you’d want to check this out.”

Glumly, he once again considered the bill. “This opens up a whole can of worms.”

Oh for the love of... Deep breaths. “Do you or do you not want to find out who killed my husband?” she asked, refusing this time to curb her impatience.

“Of course I do,” he answered. “That’s my job. But I can’t help but feel you’re instigating this in order to deflect attention from you. Especially since you’re a person of interest.”

Shaking her head, she stood. “Sheriff, you’ve known me your entire life, not just since you were a deputy patrolman. I understand the pressure you’re under from the Mabrys wanting a quick resolution to this investigation. But you’re also our sheriff. You took an oath to uphold the law. I can’t help but feel you’re trying to railroad me so you can obtain an arrest. But I can assure you, I did not kill my husband. And I’d really like to know who did. So please, make a copy of the bill and look into it. Can you at least promise me you’ll do that?”

His mottled complexion revealed how little he cared for her disparaging comments. But she was right and he knew it. Moving with exaggerated slowness, he photocopied the statement and handed the original back to her. She tucked it into her diaper bag and reached down to pick up little Jacob in his infant carrier.

“Wait,” Sheriff Cantrell said, motioning her to sit back down. “I understand Kyle Benning is back in town.”

Holding his gaze, she waited to hear what this had to do with her.

“I was told he paid you a visit yesterday,” he continued. “Mind telling me what that was all about?”

“Kyle and I are old friends,” she replied. “Like everyone else in town, I was told he died in Afghanistan. He wanted to let me know that wasn’t actually the case.”

How stiff she sounded. Still, her meeting with Kyle was none of his business.

“I know you two were more than just friends.” The faint mockery in his voice infuriated her, though she pushed it back down inside. “And now that poor Bill is out of the way, maybe now the two of you can pick up where you left off.”

This was too much, even for her. “That’s not only insulting,” she said. “But hurtful. We haven’t even buried Bill yet.”

Silence. Then, very slowly, Sheriff Cantrell nodded. “My apologies. Sometimes this job makes me think the worst of people.”

Except for Bill. You didn’t want to even consider he might have had a mistress. Of course, she didn’t voice this thought out loud.

She pushed to her feet again. “Please let me know what you find out,” she said, gesturing toward the credit card statement. Jacob’s carrier once again in hand, she turned to go.

The sheriff followed her to the door. “I’ll give you a call if I learn anything,” he said. His detached, professional tone had returned. Nicole wished she had confidence in him actually doing his job and checking the new lead out.

She didn’t understand his sudden loyalty to Bill’s reputation. Though they’d attended the same superstrict church, as far as she knew Bill and Sheriff Cantrell hadn’t been particularly good friends. Though of course, clearly she knew next to nothing about what her husband had done when he wasn’t at home with her. Anything and everything was possible. For all she knew, the two men could have gone bar hopping together. At this point, nothing would surprise her. The one thing marriage to Bill Mabry had taught her was that nothing was as it seemed on the surface.

Once she had Jacob buckled into his rear-facing infant seat, she started Bill’s car and drove away. It had been a long time since she’d driven, though her driver’s license hadn’t expired. Bill never let her drive his BMW and after one of the deputies had delivered it to her along with the keys, she’d felt extremely nervous sitting behind the steering wheel. Now she supposed she’d get used to it eventually.

She drove to Briggses’ Funeral Home. Despite not hearing anything from the Mabrys, she needed to see about making arrangements. Of course, Pastor Theodore would handle the funeral. That was a given. Her parents and Bill’s parents were founding members of The Church on Top of the Hill. Bill had been a deacon there. Of necessity, Nicole had attended as a child and then again once she and Bill had married. After the funeral, she never intended to go there again.

Since there were other things to attend to, such as choosing a casket and a burial plot, she asked to speak to the owner, Joe Wayne Briggs. His son Junior came out to greet her instead.

When she told him the reason for her visit, he led her to a tastefully decorated small office. She couldn’t help but notice the box of tissues placed conspicuously close to her chair.

“Now what can I help you with today?” Junior asked, his attempt to mimic his father’s sonorous tone coming off surprisingly well.

“I’m sure you know my husband, Bill Mabry, recently passed away. I need to see about selecting his casket and purchasing a burial plot.”

Confusion crossed his face. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Dan and Theresa Mabry have already made all the selections. He’s going to be interred in the Mabry family plot.”

Made all the selections. Without her. One more slap in the face. “I’m his widow,” she began. “I should have been consulted.”

Then, as he stumbled all over himself trying to explain what had happened, she realized this was okay. All of it. Bill’s parents had adored their only son and mourned him, definitely far more than she did. If they knew his true character, their love for him superceded all that.

She, on the other hand, had only been married to him for one year. He’d bullied and abused her, regarded her as a possession rather than an equal partner, and in her heart of hearts, she felt relief rather than sorrow.

“Thank you very much,” she said, interrupting him. “I assume they’ve also handled the obituary?”

At his nod, she exhaled. “Do you happen to have anything printed out yet?”

“We do. We do. Let me get you a copy.” He scurried out of the room. When he returned, he handed her a sealed envelope. “Everything is in here. The casket, the burial plot number and a map to the area, and information on the service.” He took a deep breath and adjusted his tie. “I do apologize for not realizing we should have contacted you. I assumed you were too grief stricken to attend any planning sessions.”

She let that one go. Thanking him, she once again picked up Jacob’s carrier and turned to go.

When she lifted him up to buckle the carrier into the backseat, she realized his little face was bright red. His eyes were closed, and she did a panicked test, wetting her finger and placing it under his nose to make sure he was still breathing.

The instant she did this, he began flailing his arms about and let out a loud cry. Once he got started, his crying increased in volume and intensity, letting her know something was very wrong.

She took him out of the carrier and checked his diaper, finding it dry. No amount of rocking or singing to him made any difference. When a bubbling rash of red welts appeared on his face and arms, she knew something was drastically wrong. Buckling him back into the carrier while he still wailed, she jumped into the car and drove straight for the hospital emergency room.