Dangerous Game, page 16
“What’s that?” Chaney’s voice clearly announced that he feared the answer he’d receive.
“If this child is born, it will be Jake’s brother or sister, full or half. And don’t ever make the mistake that that doesn’t mean much. The connection between siblings can be quite strong even when they have been parted. The bond of blood is one of the strongest bonds between humans. Don’t leave Jake out of this. He won’t thank you if you do.”
“You mean I should ask him what he thinks about this?” Chaney’s shock was evident. Grey felt the same aversion.
“No, but don’t leave him out of the loop,” Elsie continued. “If Rae-Jean decides to terminate, then he shouldn’t be told about this until he is an adult, if ever. But if she keeps the child, he will want to know that child. And you will have to permit that.”
“And it might be his full brother or sister,” Chaney commented as if to himself alone.
“Yes, the child might be. And if it is, it’s yours just as much as Jake’s.” Elsie took a deep breath. “Chaney, you are in the position to do great good or great harm to Jake, Rae-Jean, this baby and yourself. Don’t react with anger. Now you are the one with choices to make, far-reaching, life-changing ones. Don’t ever let that thought get away from you. And you’ll need prayer and lots of it.”
The next evening Trish waited while the phone rang—once, twice. She twisted the phone cord as she sat at the built-in table in her trailer. The window beside her let in a pleasant evening breeze. Warm weather and golden sunset should have cheered her.
Grey’s voice came over the line. “Hello, Ryerson’s.”
“Hi, Grey, this is Trish.”
Silence.
A daunting response. She sighed inwardly. Just call me intrepid. “I called to thank you for helping Chaney again.”
“Oh.”
“He met me for lunch at Trina’s today and told me all about Rae-Jean.”
“Good.”
Trish pursed her lips. Wasn’t Grey carrying the strong and silent type a little too far? “I’m glad he’s found someone to help him through this.”
“Elsie was the one who had the answers,” Grey replied, sounding defensive. “I didn’t.”
“Your aunt is a wise woman.”
“No argument here.”
Trish braced herself for conflict. “I’d like to have you and Elsie over for supper sometime soon.”
A silent pause. Then, “Trish, you know that isn’t a good idea.” Another significant pause. “We need to—”
“To what?” Suddenly she was angry, white-hot. “To cave in to my father’s bad temper and irrational behavior?”
“We’ve gone over this before. There are too many solid reasons we should stay away from each other. Goodbye, Trish.” And he had the nerve to cut the connection.
Trish banged the receiver against the tabletop as if punishing Grey. Had a more stubborn man than Grey Lawson ever been born? She dialed Elsie’s number a second time. When Grey answered again, she barked, “I’m not giving up on you, Grey Lawson. Get that through your thick skull. And you and Elsie are invited to my trailer for Saturday night supper and that’s that.” Then she hung up—fuming. I will not give in to my father’s obsession. Or into Grey’s mind-set of guilt.
The next morning, Trish couldn’t believe her eyes. Along with the two other deputies that had helped Keir with the crime scene investigation of the gray sedan and surroundings, she stared at the clear evidence bag sitting on the sheriff’s desk. The bag was marked and sealed. Inside it was a button obviously torn from a shirt since a small swatch of flannel fabric still clung to the button.
“I cannot believe that this bag got dropped at the crime scene. And that no one missed it when we cataloged all the evidence,” Keir said in a menacing voice which predicted that someone’s head might roll. And soon.
“I lifted this from the doorjamb of the gray sedan. It was caught on the latch there,” the youngest deputy, Josh Hayden admitted, flushing up red.
Stern faced, Keir stared at the deputy. “Why didn’t you tell us that it was missing when we got back to the station and went over the list of evidence we collected?”
“I…I…” the young officer stuttered.
Unable to bear the younger man’s disgrace in silence, Trish spoke up. “That was the day your wife was put on bed rest, wasn’t she?”
“Yeah, but her pregnancy shouldn’t have affected my performance,” Josh said, hanging his head. “I’m sorry, sir.”
Keir visibly let the irritation drain from his expression and the tense way he’d held his shoulders. “None of us are perfect. Just don’t let it happen again. Fortunately, I found this when the wrecker and I went to impound the sedan. And fortunately, the wrecker saw me open the door and pick it up from under the sedan’s front seat and it was still sealed. So it should stand up in court as incontestable evidence. Now, if we can find a match to this fabric on a shirt missing a button, we could have our culprit.”
Trish felt no rush of excitement at this promising new lead. Instead, all the strength in her body seemed to be drawn downward. With her aunt and her father as suspects, she didn’t foresee much possibility of a happy outcome.
With the necessary search warrants already on his desk, Keir ordered the other two deputies to go together to Hank and Lamar Valliere’s homes, Noah Franklin’s and Grey’s to search for the shirt missing this button. Keir looked up at her. “Trish, you and I will take care of searching your aunt’s house.”
Filled with heavy foreboding, Trish could barely nod her agreement.
Keir handed out the warrants.
Soon, with Trish in the Jeep beside him, Keir was parking in the alley behind her aunt’s bungalow. On the way there, she’d decided that Keir had brought her along to Harriet’s for a couple of reasons. First, she sensed that Keir didn’t think Harriet had done more than let one of the three men use her vehicle. And second, Harriet might prefer to have Trish there while the sheriff did the actual searching. Or perhaps Keir thought that Trish could deal best with Harriet’s complaints about the search and keep her out of the sheriff’s way. Whatever the reason, here they were.
Harriet answered the door and greeted them with indignation and loud complaints. But since they were armed with a warrant, she had no choice but to let them in.
At Keir’s order, Trish asked her aunt to sit down at her kitchen table while Keir searched. Harriet sat with her lips pressed together and her arms folded defiantly. Trish sighed inwardly and tried not to take her aunt’s resentment personally. All in a day’s work. Once again, returning to the Madison Police Department began to seem like a good idea. She wouldn’t be a part of this if she’d stayed there.
Minutes passed. Trish could hear Keir rifling through drawers, scraping hangers in closets while her aunt stared a hole in Trish’s forehead. Then Keir appeared in the kitchen. “Where do you do your laundry?”
Harriet grimaced, but barked, “Basement.”
Keir hurried down the steps.
“I can’t believe you’re working against your own family,” Harriet hissed.
“I can’t believe my own family would break the law,” Trish retorted, fed up.
Harriet’s face reddened at this and then she wouldn’t look Trish in the eye. “Who’s proven we broke the law?”
Keir came up the basement stairs. “Mrs. Franklin, I’m taking this shirt as evidence—”
“What?” Harriet sprang to her feet. “You can’t take—”
“This shirt is missing a button and it appears to match a button found at the crime scene,” Keir said with a glance toward Trish.
Trish felt the blood drain from her face. She’d never felt that before. She felt clammy and a little faint. My aunt is the one responsible for the hit-and-runs? No.
“That doesn’t prove a thing,” Harriet blustered. “I have every right to be on my own property. It proves nothing.”
“The button was found inside the gray sedan that you told us—when we’ve questioned you repeatedly—you haven’t been in or driven for years.”
“How can you prove that that’s even my shirt?” Harriet countered.
“A DNA test will be able to prove whether you’ve worn this shirt or not.”
Harriet stood with her mouth open.
“I think you’d better get your purse and come with us,” Keir said, taking another step forward.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“I’m afraid I can compel you, Mrs. Franklin,” Keir said, a deep frown creasing his forehead.
“He can,” Trish muttered, trying to pull herself together.
“I’m not going—” Harriet turned to reach for her phone.
“Mrs. Franklin, you can call your lawyer from my office,” Keir said, taking the receiver from her.
Trish watched in horror as her aunt began to pummel Keir with her balled fists. Trish jumped up. Keir grabbed her aunt’s wrists. “Mrs. Franklin, I don’t want to hurt you. And I’d prefer not to have to use the cuffs.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong!” Harriet shouted.
Trish recognized the shrill tone of dawning hysteria. She drew closer to her aunt’s side. “Auntie, please don’t resist. Calm yourself.” She stroked her aunt’s shoulder and murmured more calming phrases. “Come with us and you can call your lawyer as soon as the sheriff compares this shirt with the evidence. It might not even match and you’ll be upsetting yourself all for nothing.”
Trish’s words finally appeared to work. Harriet stopped struggling and let Trish help her with her coat. The three of them left for the sheriff’s department.
In his office in front of Trish and another deputy, Keir matched the button and cloth fragment to the shirt from Aunt Harriet’s hamper. He looked up at Trish. “I think you better come with me to face your aunt.”
Wordlessly, Trish went into the interrogation room and confronted Harriet. This time Harriet reacted with shock. Her face paled and beads of perspiration dotted her forehead. “I think I’m going to pass out.”
Trish hurried over and helped her aunt lower her head to her knees. Trish again stroked her aunt’s back and murmured encouragement. In a few moments, her aunt was able to sit up again.
“Mrs. Franklin,” Keir said, “you can call your lawyer now. Come to my office. Then we’ll book you.”
Moving like a robot, Harriet followed the sheriff’s instructions. She clung to Trish, who looked up the number for her aunt and then dialed Harriet’s lawyer for her. Her aunt tried to speak to the man, but couldn’t. She handed the receiver to Trish and mumbled, “Please.”
Trish took the receiver and quickly explained the situation. Then she hung up. “He’ll come soon and talk over bail and everything with you.”
Both Keir and Trish had to help her aunt up from the chair. Trish stayed at her aunt’s side throughout the process of being booked. And then Trish helped her aunt back to the interrogation room. The sheriff hadn’t wanted to upset Harriet further by putting her in the holding cell.
Keir walked out of the room. Trish touched her aunt’s shoulder. “Do you want me to stay?”
Harriet nodded and then whispered, “I never meant to hurt anybody.”
Trish’s heart contracted at this near admission of guilt. She sat down beside her aunt and put her arm around her. To Trish, the past half hour had been a bad dream, a bad dream where she was forced to watch horrible events unfold, frozen to the spot when she should have been running for her life. Dear Lord, my aunt—I can’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it.
On the way home from a painting job, Grey stopped by the convenience store to pick up a gallon of milk. His shirtsleeves were rolled up. The past few days had continued to be warm, more Indian summer days. Eddie looked up from behind the counter and called to him, “Hey, buddy, you won’t believe what I just heard.”
“What’s that?” Grey said, opening the chilled glass dairy case and selecting the two percent milk his aunt preferred.
“They’ve arrested Trish’s aunt for the hit-and-runs.”
The plastic gallon of milk nearly slipped from Grey’s hand. “Jake’s widow?”
“Yeah, hard to believe, isn’t it?”
Grey walked to the counter. “Yes, that’s awful.”
“Arrested her and everything.”
Grey just stood there gawking at Eddie, trying to make sense of it. “What was she thinking?”
Eddie shrugged. “Getting back at you, man. You’d think that after seven years people would get over things. I mean, seven years.”
Grey nodded. “Some people just can’t let go…I guess.” He handed Eddie a five and then pocketed his change.
“I guess that means all the excitement is over now.” Eddie gave him a twisted smile.
Grey shook his head, as if trying to make this fit into his brain. “I never expected it to be her.”
“Yeah, my bet was on Noah or Lamar. It’s a funny world.”
“I guess.” Was this the end of it? Would everything calm down now? He’d thought the sheriff arresting someone would bring relief. It hadn’t. Just a feeling of uncertainty, of confusion. Trish’s face flickered in his mind. How was she taking this? Grey turned to leave and then stopped. “Why don’t you come over for supper some night this week?”
“I’ll try. But I’m sort of trying to strike something up with a new waitress in town. She comes into Bugsy’s most every evening after work and I don’t want any other guy to make a move while I’m away. Know what I mean?”
Grey left with a wave. The news of the arrest had left him feeling hollow but leaden, simultaneously empty and heavy. Outside, he was just about to get into the Chrysler when a black truck careened in off the highway. It jerked to a halt in front of the Chrysler, blocking Grey.
Lamar and Hank climbed out of the truck. Hank had a rifle in hand.
Grey shoved the milk into the Chrysler and backed away from the two men, his hands raised. The presence of the rifle raised his conflict with the Vallieres to a new chilling level.
“We’re going to settle everything here and now,” Hank yelled. “We know you’re the one the sheriff should have arrested today!”
“Yeah, it’s pretty smart of you to make up to that Franklin girl, one of the deputies investigating this,” Lamar joined in.
“But that’s not going to help you,” Hank continued as the two of them circled Grey. “Here and now. Once and for all, we’re going to take revenge for Darleen.”
Grey kept his back to the Chrysler and shifted, keeping an eye on both men. “So, two against one,” he said, trying to figure a way out of this. “And I’m unarmed. Are you planning on shooting me here in cold blood?”
“No, Lamar is going to beat the stuffing out of you,” Hank sneered. “I’m just going to make sure no one interferes.”
With a baseball bat in hand, Eddie rushed out the door toward the three of them, shouting, “Get out of here! I just called 911! Scram! Or you’ll wish you had!”
Lamar halted but made no move to run. And Hank lifted the rifle to his shoulder.
“Go back inside, Eddie,” Grey ordered, suddenly afraid that Hank might actually pull the trigger. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Eddie said, his voice rich with suppressed excitement. “I’ve been waiting years to see Lamar’s backside kicked.”
Another truck rattled into view. With a sinking heart, Grey recognized it as Noah Franklin’s. Hail, hail, the gang’s all here.
TWELVE
A baseball bat, a rifle, and now Noah was charging out of his truck, armed with a shotgun. Sanity was slipping away. Grey couldn’t think. His mind had locked up like a corrupted computer file. One thought gleamed clearly. He couldn’t let Eddie take another hit meant for him. And then he recalled that Eddie had alerted the sheriff. Help should be on the way. But could he keep things from boiling over till it arrived?
“We should have done this two months ago!” Noah declared. “If we’d run him out of town then, none of this would have happened and Jake’s widow wouldn’t be sitting in jail now.”
His hands still above his head, Grey tried to keep his eyes on all three who now circled him like a pack of dogs, yapping around wounded prey. God, send help soon.
“You’re the one who ought to be run out of town!” Eddie retorted. “You’re sick, old man! You ought to be put in a home!”
“Worthless punk!” Noah leaped forward. Before Eddie could swing the bat, Noah rammed the steel barrel of the shotgun into Eddie’s midsection. Eddie yelped and then doubled up, groaning. Grey wanted to go to Eddie’s aid. But that would only draw all three—Lamar, Hank and Noah—toward his friend. Grey moved sideways, away from Eddie who’d dropped down onto one knee, moaning.
“Haven’t the three of you learned anything from what’s just happened to Harriet Franklin today?” Grey kept his voice even, not showing any fear or any disdain that might trigger more anger. He’d learned this from watching prison guards defuse jail fights. “You’re all so busy trying to take revenge on me that you’re putting yourselves over the line. You’re breaking the law. Is making trouble for me worth going to jail?”
“Yes!” Lamar lunged forward, swinging his fist as he came.
Grey dodged the blow.
Off balance, Lamar caught himself and tried and missed again.
Noah and Hank edged forward, each one covering Grey with their weapons. Grey began praying for help to arrive. Soon. “I’m not fighting you, Lamar,” Grey declared, playing for time, for sanity to return. “This is three against one. I’m unarmed and no one in Winfield is going to think you did right.”
With his fists raised, Lamar looked as if he weren’t paying any attention. But he didn’t swing again, just continued to move in on Grey’s space.
“And you know it,” Grey finished. In spite of the cool autumn air, sweat popped out on his forehead, beaded and trickled down the sides of his face.
