Читать книгу Tell Me No Lies - Kathryn Shay - Страница 10

TESSA ARRANGED FOOD at the picnic table on the patio of her sister’s home, where the family had gathered for their Memorial Day picnic. The sun was shining and the sky was cloudless; a warm breeze wafted over her, carrying the sweet sound of chirping birds, making this a halcyon afternoon.

“I like seeing that.”

Tessa looked up at Janey’s husband, Brad, who’d come over from the grill. “What do you like seeing?”

“You smiling.” He slid his arm around her. “We were worried after the accident. Your sister freaked.”

“I’m sorry she spends her time fretting over me. She always has, Brad. I can’t seem to break her of the habit.”

Brad shook his head—he was mostly bald now and had shaved off what was left of his hair. Still, he was fit and youthful-looking for forty-five. “You two had a hard life. You, especially.”

“I guess.” She held Brad’s gaze a moment. He knew about her past, of course, because he was married to her sister; after Tessa had been released from prison, she had lived with Janey.

Just the thought of her time in jail made her shiver. Dawson Federal Prison Camp was a minimum security facility, without bars, but the prisoners were locked down at night, performed long tedious work details and had no say over their time. Worse, Tessa had always had a sense of foreboding, as if something bad was going to happen to her. A few times, awful things had…even now, she sometimes woke up in a cold sweat from a bad dream.

Hugging her tighter, Brad whispered, “Don’t think about it, kid.”

“I try not to.”

“Hey, buddy, what are you doing with my wife?”

Tessa and Brad both smiled as Dan approached. He’d just gotten out of the pool, and his muscles were outlined by his T-shirt. Damp from the water, his navy shirt heightened the color of his eyes.

“Just catching up.” Brad took a carrot stick from the plate on the table. “I haven’t seen her much.”

Dan shrugged. “You’ve been out of town a lot.”

“Yeah, this grant thing’s great, but it’s hell on my life. We had to hire a new internist to take on some of my patients. Janey’s been terrific but I know it’s hard on her.”

“That’s what you get for being such a world-renowned researcher.”

“Says the hotshot D.A.” Brad glanced over at his wife, who was sprawled in a lounge chair getting some sun. “I wanted to ask you two to watch out for her and the kids. I’ve got that trip to London coming up, and I’ll be gone awhile.”

“Of course.” Dan’s expression grew serious. “Any time.”

“I’m sorry I can’t get back for the Citizen of the Year dinner. Janey will stay for it, though, and come to London afterward when Oxford officially awards me the grant.”

Dan clapped Brad on the back. “It won’t be the same without you.”

After exchanging more small talk, Brad went to check the meat on the grill, and Tessa and Dan stood watching the kids playing in the pool. Dan’s mother, Claire, who’d been taking pictures of them, got up from the poolside bench. At sixty, she was an attractive woman with gray-bobbed hair, youthful skin and a generous smile, though today it seemed forced. “Can I help?” she asked Tessa.

“No, we’re waiting on the grill. Want some lemonade?”

“Yes, dear.”

While she poured her mother-in-law a glassful, Dan put his arm around Claire’s shoulder and kissed her. “You okay?”

She looked up at him. “He’s not coming, I guess.”

“Nick had a lot going on at the center, Mom. Don’t take it personally.”

“It is personal. He’ll never forgive me for how I treated him after your father…left. It happened so long ago, and he’s done so much with his life. I wish he could forgive and forget.”

Tessa handed her the drink. “He’ll come around.”

“We Logans can’t seem to put the past behind us.”

Dan’s brow furrowed. “Did something happen?”

His mother sipped the lemonade, then ran her finger around the rim of the glass. “I received a letter from your father’s attorney. Daniel’s earning money again and wanted to know if we needed anything.”

Dan’s stance shifted. “Several years too late,” he said, his tone clipped. “We worked like dogs to survive after he used up all our money and stole more.”

Sometimes when Dan talked about his father, it chilled Tessa. He seemed to turn into a different man, one she didn’t really know.

“Be that as it may, I don’t want anything from him, but I’d like to stop taking your money, Dan.”

“Why?” Tessa asked. “We’re not hurting.”

“You two could vacation more. Have a new car every few years.”

Dan smiled at Tessa. “We’ve got all we need, don’t we, sweetheart?”

“You bet. And we use the money I earn at the library for anything extra we want.”

Dan refused to let her put her paycheck toward necessities. Instead she bought frills for the girls, Dan and sometimes herself, and used what was left for vacations, like a weekend away with her husband now and then. One of those was coming up. They were taking a few extra days when Dan had to go to Rockford to give a presentation to the city council on some innovative crime prevention work he’d done with underprivileged kids.

“Steaks are ready,” Brad called.

“Come on, Mom, I’ll help you find a rare one.” Dan grasped her arm and glanced over at Tessa. He mouthed “thank you.”

She nodded. She didn’t care about the money they gave Claire. No one wanted for anything in her household, and his mother couldn’t make ends meet on the hospital aide job she’d taken once she’d retired from full-time work. Though her condo was paid for, she needed other income.

Molly yelled from the pool, “Mom, look!”

Glancing over, Tessa saw her little daredevil do a backflip off the diving board.

Tessa’s chest tightened. “Be careful, honey.” Too protective, she knew. She had to lighten up.

Janey stood and yelled something to Molly about being careful. She wore a white swimsuit, high-cut at the legs. Tessa was in a navy Speedo swimsuit, with a wraparound skirt tied at her waist…

Buy this bathing suit, Trix. It’s sexy as hell.

I don’t want to. It’s too revealing.

I want you revealed, doll.

No, Frankie.

He’d grabbed her arms.

You’re hurting me. What’s wrong with you?

Don’t say that. Nothing’s wrong with me. Why do people keep sayin’ that to me?

Although the day was warm, Tessa shivered.

“Honey,” Dan called from the grill. “Come on, steaks are ready.”

“Be right there. I need to get more drinks.” She fled into the kitchen. Her life was wonderful, and she was going to enjoy it. She put on a big fat smile as she took the lemonade concentrate out of Janey’s freezer and brought them to the sink.

ALLISON MARKHAM was a striking woman. Her auburn hair, caught up in a twist, accented the flawless perfection of her face. She was dressed in her customary tailored suit. At one time, Dan had loved the cool sophistication Allison seemed to have been born with. He chuckled to himself at how he ever thought this woman could make him happy.

“I won’t plea down on this case, Dan. Your offer is insulting.”

He shook his head. “It’s the only one you’re going to get. Your client is a criminal, Allison, no matter how white his collar is. He cheated senior citizens out of their pensions.”

Her expression softened, and she hitched a hip on his desk. He got a hint of the French perfume she always wore. “That’s why you’re being such a hard-ass about this. Because it kicks in to what your father did.”

“No, because Sam Albert belongs behind bars. You should be working to keep scum like him out of business, not set him free so he can trick more people on a fixed income.”

Anger sparked in her gray eyes. He should have known better. Allison gave as good as she got, both in her professional and personal life. “Doesn’t it get tiring, keeping that halo in place?”

Looking down at his desk, Dan counted to ten. You’d think after all this time, Allison would let up on him. But, no, she was still steamed that he’d broken it off with her for Tessa. And her attitude had seemed to worsen in recent months. Probably because Allison’s marriage had ended not too long ago. Rumors had spread that it was an acrimonious split. He guessed that would make anybody sour. And maybe it made sense to take out her issues on Dan—in truth, they could have been married and she’d never have gone through the divorce.

Regardless, he wasn’t going to back down on this case. He looked her square in the eye. “This meeting is over. I refuse to discuss my personal life with you or anyone else. The offer on Albert stands. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll let you know.”

“It’s only on the table for today.”

Damn it, he hadn’t planned to say that. But Allison could push his buttons.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Sorry, I’m not.”

She pushed off from the desk and glowered at him. “Someday, something’s going to bring you down, Dan. You’re going to find out you’re no better than everyone else.”

“I don’t think I’m better than anyone else. Far from it.”

“Get real. I hope you and your perfect wife are ready for the fall when it happens.”

Man, that divorce really had soured her. For a minute, he was frozen with fear. He’d never be able to handle it if something caused him and Tessa to split. Hell, why was he worrying? Things had never been better between them. Nothing was going to change that.

THE FREAKIN’ TOWN could have come off a postcard. From the bus, Frankie watched the quiet streets pass by—quaint houses alongside the downtown businesses. It reminded him of a picture book he’d had when he was little. He was sick a lot as a kid and had to stay in bed. Once, a priest from the church near his house had brought him a book. It was about God and how He helped a little town. Frankie loved that story. When he was alone at night and scared, he still talked to God.

He got off at the Orchard Place Station, wondering what the hell must have happened to make Trixie leave Iverton. He felt for the letter in his pocket. The last time she wrote to him, she asked him to come to Orchard Place and rescue her. He smiled as he navigated the steps. That was what Frankie was going to do here—save Trixie.

Though it was four in the afternoon, he put on his sunglasses and the fishing hat that he had bought at one of the places the bus had stopped on the trip east. No need to make his presence known yet; just his luck he’d bump into Janey. He looked the same as he had when he’d last seen her, screaming at him after the trial.

I hate you, you bastard.

Shut up, bitch.

Maybe on this visit he could get back at her for saying those things to him, and for poisoning Trixie’s mind against him. She must have brought Trixie here. His beloved wouldn’t have come of her own free will. It made him sick inside not knowing where she was and what she was doing. He had to find out what Trixie had gotten herself into in this Hicksville.

He went inside the station proper and up to the counter. He hated places like this. They suffocated him. That’s why, all his life, Frankie had had to own a car, so he could avoid depressing places like this. He’d had beauties when he was on the outside, which always made him feel like somebody. First thing he was going to do when he found Trixie was get some new wheels.

“Can I help you?” the man behind the plastic asked. He was a weasel of a guy with a bad comb-over.

“Yeah, I need a room to stay for a few days. Where’s the nearest hotel?” He didn’t have a lot of money, but he expected Trixie could get what they’d need to keep them going for a while.

“There’s a couple of bed and breakfasts on the outskirts of town.” The guy shrugged. “Nice if you like company. They serve communal meals.”

That was the last thing Frankie wanted. “Nah, somethin’ with more privacy.”

“There’s a hotel in the center of town. It’s not the newest, but it’s clean and private. Name’s Heritage House.”

“Thanks.” Frankie started to walk away.

“What’s your business here?” the guy called after him.

“None of yours.”

He wouldn’t give himself away—he wanted to surprise Trixie. He could picture her running to him like in those old TV commercials and throwing herself into his arms. And later, the sex would be hot and rough like she liked it.

As he left the bus station, a man in tattered clothes came up to him. “Any spare change, buddy?”

Frankie looked down at the guy. Homeless probably. Because Frankie remembered what it was like to be hungry and have nowhere he belonged, he dug in his pocket. Handing the guy a bill, he said, “Don’t spend it on booze.”

“Sure thing. Thanks, mister.”

The thought of some booze right now sounded good to Frankie. He glanced up and down the street. Then he saw a bar two doors over with a dark interior and a neon sign announcing Zip’s Café. In the window was a beer sign.

Dodging oncoming cars, Frankie crossed the street. Before he went looking for Trixie, he could use a belt or two to calm his nerves. Just the thought of seeing her made him jittery. And sometimes, his mind got cloudy and he didn’t remember things right. Especially when his cold was acting up. But alcohol always let him see things clearer.

Inside it was cool and a chill ran through Frankie. He sneezed several times. Setting his duffel bag on a stool, he drew out the black sweater Trixie had sent him for his birthday one year and shrugged into it.

He took a seat at the bar.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

“Whiskey. A double.”

The man filled a glass and slid it to him. He knocked the liquor back in one swallow and ordered a second. Warmer and happier, he studied the bar. Not many patrons, as it was almost the dinner hour. Most of the working stiffs in this town were probably hurrying home for boring dinners with their over-weight wives and whiny kids. At one time, Frankie had thought he wanted all that. But years of shuffling from foster home to foster home had cured him of the dream. Family members did despicable things to each other.

The man on the stool next to him stood, threw some money on the bar and called goodbye to the bartender. He’d left behind a newspaper. The Orchard Place Globe was a hefty size for a small town. He skimmed the front page’s national news, read about the most recent hurricane in Florida and another attack in Iraq. What a crummy world. Nowhere was safe anymore. Chaplain Cook told them once that a lot of guys got out of prison and went right back in because they couldn’t deal with the real world. Not him, though. When he had Trixie again, he’d be fine.

He flipped through to the local news. Maybe there’d be something in there about Janey’s husband, the famous doctor.

Frankie read the front page. The feature article was on a guy…holy hell. The world spun out of focus for a minute, and drums began to beat in his head. He clutched the paper so hard his fists hurt. He heard himself moan, as if from a distance.

“You all right, buddy?” the bartender asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

It was Trixie. His Trixie. Only she wasn’t alone. She was with two little girls. Behind them, a man stood—tall, imposing, confident. His hand rested possessively on Trixie’s shoulder. Frankie had to gulp in air. His gaze dropped to the caption.

“Orchard Place’s D.A. honored as 2006 Citizen of the Year. Shown here with wife, Tessa, and two daughters, Molly and Sara. Dinner to be held…”

The print blurred and pain shot to his temples. Tessa? There was that name again. This was his Trixie. She was married? There had to be some mistake. He pulled the picture he’d downloaded from Brad Christopher’s Web site out of his wallet.

The two photos matched.

“I don’t understand,” he murmured.

“What?” the bartender asked.

He shoved his picture out of sight and held up the newspaper. “Who are these people?”

“The Logan family. Pillars of the community. The guy’s the town’s D.A. and even my ex likes the wife, and she hates most people.”

“Her name’s Trixie, right?”

“No, Tessa, like it says there. Tessa Logan.”

Tessa Logan. This was the love of his life, whose letters had kept him going all these years. How could she be married to somebody else? What the hell was going on here?

He stumbled out of the bar. There had to be a mistake.

“ALL RIGHT, who’d like to start?” Tessa smiled at the four who were part of the Sassy Girls Book Club. She’d let them pick the name of their group but had taken it upon herself to choose the books. The one for today was from the adolescent literature genre she’d been steering them to since Nick had asked her to be library liaison and, she suspected, a positive role model for these girls. That made her shake her head, but she did want to help, so she forged ahead, squelching her insecurity.

She made eye contact with each teen: Beth, Chelsea, Dawn and Jill. When no one answered her question, she asked, “Did you read the book?”

One by one, they nodded.

At last, Beth spoke up. “I thought it was sad. That girl had everything going for her and still she committed suicide.”

Tessa knew a bit about their lives from offhanded statements they’d made. Beth came from a large family on welfare.

Out of the corner of her eye, Tessa saw someone enter the library. She and the girls were sitting in a glassed-in meeting room in the front of the building. Tessa hoped Annie, the night librarian, would take care of the late-afternoon patrons.

She brought her attention back to the teens. “Does everybody think Mina had everything?”

“I don’t.” This from Dawn, whose parents had gone through a difficult divorce, which led to her rebellious behavior at school. “She had material things—clothes, a car, a big house—but she was lonely.”

“I wouldn’t change places with her.” Jill’s husky voice belied her delicate appearance. She was adopted and wanted to search for her birth parents, but her adoptive parents objected. She acted out at school.

Tessa glanced to her left. She’d been waiting for Chelsea’s opinion of the main character because Tessa had chosen the book partly because of her. She sensed the girl was not only pregnant but desperate. “Chels, what do you think?”

“I think her boyfriend was a bastard. And her father wasn’t much better.” With a disgusted look on her face, she added, “All men are pigs, as far as I’m concerned.”

From there the girls talked about fathers—what made a good one, a bad one, was a bad one better than none at all? They all spoke in general terms.

Then Chelsea turned to her. The teen’s blue eyes were intense. “What about your father, Mrs. L? What was he like? Cool? He had to be because you’re so together.”

For a moment, Tessa panicked. She never talked about her family, or lack of it. “I, um…” Four faces focused on her. It was then she realized this was some kind of test of trust.

Damned if she was going to fail. “I never knew my father. He took off when I was born.”

The girls were shocked.

Chelsea frowned. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

Because I’ve spent my whole life covering things like that up. The burden of keeping that secret was heavy, and Tessa felt like a phony.

“I guess you can come from a dysfunctional family and still be a happy adult,” she told them.

“Was yours?” Dawn asked. “Dysfunctional?”

“Yes.” She kept her voice calm. “Maybe you’d like to share some of your background with me?”

The girls relayed much of what Tessa already knew about them. Poverty, depression, frustration and loneliness combined to send them into a downward spiral.

Chelsea, however, refused to share. “Can we talk about the book?”

By the time the girls left, Tessa felt like she had accomplished something important. The bond they’d been forming all year had strengthened, and they seemed to take comfort in it. Hard as it was, she was right to share her story.

Could she have some impact on the boys? She hadn’t followed up on Nick’s request a few weeks ago. How long was she going to let Frankie affect her life? She’d call Nick tomorrow to talk about a group for the guys.

After locking up the meeting room, Tessa headed down the long corridor to the office. The library had been built in the early 1900s, and, though she loved its quaint atmosphere, the corridors tended to get dark as the day wore on. She thought she saw something in the shadows. “Who’s there?” she asked, her heart pounding.

No answer.

Of course there was no answer. She was letting talk of her past spook her. Swallowing hard, she found her office and opened the door. She stopped when she heard another noise. Then she saw a man, his back to her, striding down the hall and out the front door. There was something familiar about his walk.