Читать книгу Fatal Disclosure - Sandra Robbins - Страница 12

THREE

After an hour of weeding the British Cemetery, Betsy began to feel more relaxed. Her time spent in the small plot the island residents held in high esteem always made her misty-eyed and thankful for patriotic men like those buried here. They’d given the ultimate sacrifice in the pursuit of freedom. Her brother, Scott, had almost met the same fate, and she thanked God every day for his life.

Kneeling beside the sign that identified the small cemetery as a piece of English soil, she patted the last pansy into the flower bed and sat back on her heels to admire her handiwork. She glanced over her shoulder at the four graves and scanned them in search of an elusive weed she had missed.

“That’s a beautiful flower bed.” The lilting drawl drifted from the edge of the street.

Betsy glanced up and into the face of two smiling women. The brims of straw hats shaded their faces, but wisps of gray hair stuck out over their ears. Sunglasses perched on their noses, and they each held one of the information pamphlets from the Island Visitors Center.

Betsy pushed to her feet and brushed the dirt from the gardening gloves she wore. “Thank you. May I help you?”

One of them pointed to the pamphlet she held. “We’re vacationing on the island and wanted to get a look at the British Cemetery. We didn’t expect to find someone working here.”

Betsy walked to where they stood and smiled. “The Coast Guard is in charge of keeping the grounds in order. I know the guys stationed on the island, so I volunteer to help them out every once in a while. My name is Betsy Michaels.”

The woman who had spoken pointed to the woman beside her. “This is my friend Miranda Walton, and I’m Lizzy Nichols. We’re retired teachers from Florida, and we’re vacationing on your beautiful island.”

“I hope you’re enjoying your visit.”

Miranda nodded. “It’s been wonderful, but this is the first time we’ve gotten over here to see the cemetery. We understand there’s quite a story behind it.”

“There is.” Betsy pointed to the pamphlets they held. “Does it tell about it there?”

Lizzy held hers up and scanned it. “A little, but there must be more.”

Miranda inched closer. “Do you know what happened to the men buried here? If you do, I’d love to hear the story.”

“I’d like to hear it, too.” The familiar voice sent shock waves rippling through Betsy’s body, and she looked past Miranda and Lizzy to Mark who stood in the street behind the women.

The visitors glanced at him and turned back to her with big smiles on their faces. “It sounds like you’ve been chosen to serve as a tour guide for us. Please tell us what happened.”

Betsy licked her lips and watched Mark stroll up to stand behind Lizzy. Her heart pounded so she didn’t know if she could speak. She took a deep breath and tried to smile. “All right.”

Miranda motioned to Mark. “Young man, step up here beside us so you can hear.”

He moved closer, and Betsy cleared her throat. “During the early days of World War II, German U-boats attacked merchant ships off the eastern coast of the United States. From January to June of 1942, almost four hundred ships were sunk off our coast. That’s when the area first became known as the Graveyard of the Atlantic.”

Lizzy nodded. “My class studied about that when we covered World War II.”

“England sent a fleet of ships to patrol the shipping lanes, and the HMS Bedfordshire, was one of them. On the morning of May 14, 1942, two bodies washed up on Ocracoke, and their papers identified them as crewman on the Bedfordshire. Several more bodies as well as wreckage from the torpedoed ship followed. The island residents buried them in a spot they designated as the British Cemetery. They later ceded the land to England for all time.”

Miranda stared at the graves. “I was just a baby when my father died in the war. My mother never recovered. It’s sad to think of the families whose loved ones didn’t come home.”

“It is. But each year,” Betsy said, “representatives from England and members of our military come together for a ceremony to honor the men who gave their lives in the pursuit of freedom.”

Lizzy wiped at a tear in the corner of her eye. “What a touching story, and you tell it so well.”

Betsy darted a glance at Mark, and her heart thudded at the intense stare he directed at her.

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yes, you do.”

Lizzy and Miranda stared at him, then looked at each other and smiled. Lizzy patted Miranda’s arm. “I think we need to be on our way. Maybe we’ll see you again.”

Betsy smiled. “I hope so, too. Enjoy your vacation.”

Neither she nor Mark spoke until the two women had walked some distance down the street. Then he sighed. “I suppose you’re wondering what I’m doing here.”

The tightness in her chest kept her from speaking at first, but she took a deep breath and tried again. “How did you find me?”

He ran his hand through his hair and grinned. “I couldn’t remember where you told your brother you’d be, but I knew it was a cemetery. So I asked the one person on the island who seems to know everything, and he told me.”

She smiled. “Grady Teach?”

Mark laughed, and she remembered how that sound used to thrill her.

“That’s the guy,” he said. “It seems this is one of the most visited tourist spots on the island, and now I understand why.” He stared at the graves a moment. “Listening to you tell the story of how these men died made me think of my parents.”

His words surprised Betsy. “I don’t remember you ever talking about your parents.”

“I don’t talk about them much. They died when I was twelve years old.” He took a deep breath. “But I didn’t come here to talk about that. I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Of course I’m all right. Why would you think I wasn’t?”

He glanced around as if he wanted to make sure no one was near enough to hear and then took a step closer. “A man who’d been shot collapsed and died at your feet this morning. Whoever killed him could have seen you. I think you need to be careful.” He raised his hand and swept it in a wide arc. “You’re out in the open at a tourist attraction in the middle of the day. It could be dangerous.”

She pulled the gardening gloves from her hand and tossed them in the basket that held her trowel and pruning shears. “You’re being ridiculous.”

He glanced up and down the street that ran in front of the cemetery. “This is off the beaten path from the main street of the village. I’m only concerned about your safety.”

Betsy propped her hands on her hips. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before. It seems like that was what you said after Mr. Rousseau’s arrest. Your friendship with me was an attempt to keep me safe. Well, I didn’t buy it then—and I don’t now.”

“Betsy, please. What happened this morning has nothing to do with Memphis.”

“Maybe not to you, but I can’t help remembering how I felt when you thought I was a criminal.”

“Betsy…”

Before he could continue, her cell phone chimed. Betsy held up her hand to stop him. She unzipped her fanny pack and pulled it out. Mark’s lips twitched when he spotted the phone’s hard cover with its painted swirl of butterflies and flowers. “What’s wrong?” she said.

He arched an eyebrow. “I’ve never seen a cover like that.”

“I’m an artist. I like bright colors.” She dropped her gaze to the phone’s screen. The number on the caller ID wasn’t familiar. “Hello.”

“Where is it?” the raspy voice rattled in her ear.

She pulled the phone away and stared at it for a moment before she raised it back to her ear. “Excuse me. Who is this?”

“A friend.”

Betsy frowned and cast a quick glance at Mark.

He stepped closer. “Who is it?” he whispered.

She shrugged and spoke again. “You have the wrong number.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t like prank calls, mister,” Betsy snarled. “Don’t call this number again.” She punched the end button and slipped her phone back in her fanny pack.

“Who was that?” A worried frown creased Mark’s forehead.

“Wrong number.” She gave the fanny pack’s zipper a quick tug and reached for the basket at her feet. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get going. Good luck catching whoever you’re after this time.”

She brushed past him and headed toward her truck that was parked on the opposite side of the street. Her fingers gripped the basket’s handle tighter as she stepped onto the roadway. Her mind whirled with questions. Why had Mark gone out of his way to find her? She doubted if he really had concerns about her safety. He had allowed her to continue working in the dangerous environment of the Memphis restaurant without ever warning her. Of course at the time, he had thought she was involved in the operation.

Ever since she’d first seen him this morning, her head had been spinning with all kinds of thoughts she didn’t want to remember. All she wanted was to get away from him as quickly as possible. Working on her latest painting would help her push these troubling thoughts from her head.

A car engine’s roar shattered the quiet, and Betsy stared down the street to her left. Her chest constricted at the sight of a black car speeding toward her. Her mind screamed for her to get out of its path, but her feet wouldn’t move.

Her body seemed to have switched off its power, and she had the feeling she’d stepped into a movie’s slow-motion scene. She willed her legs to move, but they didn’t respond.

“Betsy, look out!” Mark’s cry came from behind her.

The car roared closer, only a few feet from her at the edge of the cemetery. She closed her eyes just as a heavy weight slammed into her from behind and pushed her forward. The basket flew out of her hand and bounced off the hood of the car as Mark’s arms encircled her and propelled her forward. They both skidded to a stop facedown on the pavement beside her truck.

In an instant, Mark was on his feet and staring at the car that disappeared in the distance. Then he dropped back to the ground beside her and helped her sit up. “Are you all right? The car was too far away to get a license plate number.”

Betsy winced at the pain in her knees. Her eyes grew wide at the blood trailing down her legs where the skin had been scraped away. She wanted to clamp her hands over the wounds, but her palms burned as if they were on fire. She flexed her fingers. “Next time, I’ll wear jeans instead of shorts.”

Mark bent over her and examined the cuts. “This doesn’t look as bad as it could have been. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine, just a little banged up.”

As she started to get up, he grasped her arm and helped her to her feet. “I think we need to go to the health center and get you checked out.”

She shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine.”

He pulled out his cell phone. “We can do this one of two ways. I’ll take you to the health center, or I’ll call your brother and tell him you were almost hit by a car. Which will it be?”

She sighed and nodded. “Okay. Do you want to follow me in your car?”

“You don’t think I’m going to let you drive after what just happened, do you? You’re riding with me. We can get your truck later.”

Betsy opened her mouth to argue, but she could tell by the look on his face that it would do no good. “Okay, have it your way. But would you mind getting my gardening tools out of the street before we leave?”

“Sure. Go on and get in my car. It’s parked at the edge of the cemetery.”

Betsy watched Mark begin to pick up the scattered tools from the street before she turned and hobbled toward his vehicle. The near-miss with the car had left her with more than a few scrapes and scratches. Her skin prickled in fear at the thought that she’d almost been run over.

She’d never felt that scared before, and she hoped she never would again. Her inability to respond to the immediate danger baffled her. Why hadn’t she jumped out of the way instead of standing in the street like a frightened animal, not knowing which way to turn? If it hadn’t been for Mark, she might be dead now.

She stopped at the door of his car and stared back at him. No matter what she thought about Mark on a personal level, she had to admit his law enforcement training had served him well. He had reacted like a trained professional, and she owed him a debt of gratitude. Maybe her gratitude would help her overcome the hurt he’d inflicted on her in the past. Then again, maybe nothing could change how she felt. Only time would tell.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Mark flipped a magazine closed and tossed it onto the table at the end of the couch in the health center waiting room. He glanced at his watch and yawned before he pushed to his feet. What could be taking the doctor so long with Betsy?

The front door burst open, and Scott Michaels and Brock Gentry rushed in. They hurried over to him. “Where is she?” Scott demanded.

“Dr. Hunter has her in the examining room. He told me to wait out here until he gets her checked out.”

Brock glanced at the closed door leading to the hallway that housed the exam rooms. “What happened?”

Before Mark could answer, the front door burst open again, and a woman Mark had never seen ran into the room. A mesh baby carrier strapped to her body held a baby whose head rested against her chest. She hurried toward Brock, and he put his arm around her.

“How is she?”

“Doc Hunter’s with her now.” He turned to Mark. “Mark, this is my wife, Kate. She’s Betsy’s sister. Kate, this is Mark Webber.”

A frown flitted across her face. “Mark Webber from Memphis?”

The icy tone of her voice made his skin tingle. Was he going to get the cold shoulder every time he met a member of Betsy’s family? But he supposed he deserved whatever they thought of him. “I used to live in Memphis. I don’t anymore.” He glanced at the sleeping baby. “That’s a cute baby you’ve got there, Brock.”

Brock’s eyes softened as he gazed down at his sleeping son, and he brushed a hand across the baby’s head. “Yeah, we’re proud of him.”

Kate turned a pleading look to her husband. “I want to know what happened to Betsy.”

“Mark was just about to tell us.”

Mark cleared his throat and related how a car had almost hit Betsy at the cemetery. He left out his mounting suspicions about the incident because he wanted to question Betsy about it first.

He had just finished telling them about the near miss when the hallway door opened, and the doctor stepped out. Betsy’s family surrounded him before he could move farther into the room. Mark stepped up behind to hear what the doctor had to say.

“How is she?” Scott asked.

The doctor smiled at the baby before he glanced up at Kate. “She’s fine. Just a few scrapes and bruises. She’ll be sore for a few days. It could have been a lot worse if it hadn’t been for Mr. Webber here. He saved Betsy’s life.”

The three turned and stared at Mark. “You didn’t tell us you were the hero,” Brock said.

Mark shrugged. “I wasn’t. Just lucky I was close enough I could get to her.”

“That’s not the way Betsy told it.” Doc Hunter’s eyes twinkled, and he motioned for them to follow him. “She’ll want to see all of you. So come on back.”

When they stepped into the treatment room, Betsy sat on the edge of an exam table. Her legs dangled over the side, and big bandages covered both knees. Her mouth curled down in a frown when she saw them, and she wagged a finger at Mark. “I thought you gave me a choice of bringing me here or calling my family.”

Mark grinned. “I did. But I had a choice, too. I knew Scott and Brock would want to break my neck if I didn’t tell them what happened. And now that I’ve met Kate, I think she could be worse than either of them.”

Kate wrapped her arm around her sister’s shoulder and smiled at him. “You’ve got that right. My sister is very special to me.”

Scott lifted Betsy’s hands to look at the medicine covering the scrapes. “You had a close call. You need to be careful when you walk out into the street from now on.”

Mark gave a discreet cough, and they all turned to stare at him. “I’ve been thinking about this while I’ve been waiting, and I have some questions about what happened. I don’t think this was a random incident. I think somebody deliberately tried to run Betsy down.”

“What?” Kate’s voice almost shrieked.

“That car came out of nowhere and headed right toward her. I didn’t think I could get to her in time, but I did.”

Kate leaned against the exam table, and tears flooded her eyes. “Then thank you, Mr. Webber, for saving my sister’s life.”

“It wasn’t as bad as that,” Betsy insisted. “It probably was some teenagers speeding. You know how crazy they drive on the island sometimes.”

Mark took a deep breath. “There’s something else I didn’t tell you because I wanted Betsy to tell all of you at the same time.”

“What is it?” Kate asked.

Betsy frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The phone call. Tell them about the phone call.”

Betsy looked away. “I told you it was a wrong number.”

Mark shook his head. “It’s too much of a coincidence, Betsy. You receive a strange phone call and minutes later you’re almost run down in the street. It may be connected.”

Kate’s eyes grew wide, and she tightened her arm around Betsy. “What about a phone call?”

For the next few minutes, Betsy told them everything she remembered about the raspy voice on her cell phone. “I really did think it was a wrong number,” she insisted.

“And you’re sure he said ‘where is it?’”

“That’s what he said. I have no idea what he was talking about.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment as they digested this new information. After a moment, Kate spoke. “You shouldn’t stay alone, Betsy. I’ll take Emma to our house, and I want you to move into Treasury’s bed-and-breakfast for a few days.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’ll be fine at home.”

Scott shook his head. “No, that house is too isolated, and you’re not staying out there alone with Emma. If you won’t consider your safety, at least think of our little sister. You already have your studio at Treasury’s. That would be the perfect place for you.”

“Scott and Kate are right. You need to go to Treasury’s and stay there until we can determine if the two incidents are related,” Brock added.

“But, Scott, you’re off tomorrow, and you promised to take me out on Pamlico Sound in the morning during low tide,” Betsy protested. “I need to get some pictures of the waterfowl in the marshes along the coast. Can we still do that?”

Scott and Kate looked at each other, and she gave a small nod. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll pick you up in the morning about five-thirty.”

“Good. I’ll be expecting you.”

Mark’s stomach knotted with dread. He jammed his fists in the pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels. “There’s something I should tell you before you decide about staying at the bed-and-breakfast.”

Her eyes grew large. “What is it?”

He exhaled sharply. “I’m already staying there. You may not feel comfortable having me close by, but with me at the same place I can keep an eye on you. Then we can determine if there’s a danger to you or not.”

Her expression grew dark, and he wondered how deep her hatred for him went. Had her experience in Memphis made her so angry she would refuse the protection of a federal DEA agent? He hoped not.

Kate touched Betsy’s arm, and she turned to stare at her sister. “Betsy, we couldn’t bear it if something happened to you. No matter what happened between you and Mark in the past, I’ll feel better knowing there’s someone watching out for you.”

Betsy’s eyes softened, and she squeezed her sister’s hand. “All right. I’ll go to Treasury’s if it will make all of you feel better.” She took a deep breath and hopped to the floor. “Doc Hunter told me I was free to leave. So if someone will drive me back to my truck, I’ll go home and pack some clothes.”

Scott laid a restraining hand on her arm. “Oh, no you won’t. Brock and I will take care of the truck.” He turned to Mark. “Do you mind taking Betsy home to get her clothes then driving her to Treasury’s?”

Mark nodded. “I’ll be glad to do that.”

Brock and Scott followed Betsy out the door of the exam room, but Kate turned to block Mark from exiting. “Mr. Webber, I’ve been a police officer ever since I graduated from college. Even though I’m on leave now with my baby, I’m still involved in ongoing investigations on the island. I also understand how people who’ve been hurt by investigations don’t always understand an officer’s reasons for what they did.” She wrapped her arms around her baby and stared intently at him. “I’ve never judged you as an officer, only as a man who professed to be a friend to my sister. I hope you won’t do anything else while you’re here to add to her hurt.”

Mark’s face burned from the scrutiny of Kate’s eyes. “We’re dealing with some desperate criminals, Mrs. Gentry, and I’m afraid Betsy has attracted their attention. I only want to make sure she remains safe.”

“I’m glad you’re concerned for her safety. I’ll feel better knowing an officer is at Treasury’s.”

“I’ll watch out for her,” he promised.

Kate nodded, bit down on her lip, and led Mark down the hallway of the health center to the parking lot where the others waited. He could see the flicker of concern in all their faces, and none of them spoke as he climbed into the car and cranked the engine.

During the last few minutes, his assignment had become more complicated. Brock and Scott were right when they said he should have passed up an assignment on the island where Betsy grew up. He’d never expected to be involved with her whole family, but now he was.

After getting directions from Betsy, he pulled into the street on his way to her house. She sat in the passenger seat and didn’t speak but gazed out the window as they passed through the village streets jammed with tourists. He darted a glance at her every so often, but she didn’t look at him.

He wondered what she was thinking. Did she regret agreeing to stay in the same bed-and-breakfast where he was a guest? If she did, he’d have to prove to her he didn’t mean to cause her any problems. After all, he was on Ocracoke to do a job, and he intended to close this assignment like he had so many others in the past.

Before that happened, though, he had to make sure the men he was after hadn’t decided Betsy had something they wanted. He’d dealt with their kind before. Human life held little meaning for them, and their enemies often found themselves facing quick retribution.

He was determined that wouldn’t happen to Betsy.