One Little Lie Page 16

  Reid was close on her heels when she went to the door and pressed the doorbell. The sound of footsteps came toward the door. When it opened, she found herself face-to-face with Daryl Green.

  Prison hadn’t enhanced his appearance. His jowls sagged, and his hair was more gray than brown now.

  His brown eyes narrowed. “Jane Hardy, as I live and breathe. I wondered how long it would be before someone from the department showed up to harass me. I thought it would likely be your dad, but I heard the old coot retired. What do you want?”

  “I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

  “Which I don’t have to answer unless you are charging me with something. And even then, I don’t have to answer.”

  He started to shut the door, but she put her foot between it and the jamb. “Do you know Gary Dawson?”

  His muddy eyes widened. “You’re trying to tie me to a murder? Typical. This conversation is over. Move your foot or have it smashed in the door.”

  She could tell he meant it, so she pulled her foot out of the way. The finality of the door’s slam made her turn back to the SUV. “Well, that went well.”

  Reid fell into step beside her. “Do you think he knows anything?”

  “He used to know everything that was going on in the criminal community. I wouldn’t trust him at all, but he’s right. I have no evidence he knew Gary or has any knowledge about the murder.”

  She shot Boulter a text to have him see if he could find out about Daryl’s activities since his release, though. She suspected he might have his fingers in this.

  Twenty-Three

  A big frog croaked from the Bon Secour River to his left as Reid and Will waved good-bye to Jane and walked to the front porch. Mosquitoes and no-see-ums descended in a cloud, and Reid swatted at them as they ran the last few feet and reached the safety of the foyer.

  Will started for the stairs, and Reid almost let him go since the boy’s lids were dropping, but that was the easy way out.

  Reid touched his arm and stopped him. “I need to talk to you, son. It shouldn’t take too long.”

  Will gave him a curious look and nodded. “It’s about that woman, isn’t it?”

  Smart kid. Reid often didn’t give him enough credit. “Yes. Let’s go to the kitchen for a snack.”

  Will followed him into the kitchen. Reid said nothing as he poured milk and got out the container of oatmeal cookies he’d bought from the bakery. He put the cookies in front of Will before he settled on a bar stool beside his son.

  Will picked up a cookie. “Is she my mom? Is that why she seems familiar?”

  Reid caught his breath at Will’s matter-of-fact tone. His boy was always full of surprises. “Yes, that’s Lauren.”

  “If I’d known for sure, I would have told her to leave us alone. I’m not going to help her extort money from you. That sucks.”

  Reid’s heart warmed. Will was solid gold, through and through. He cleared his throat. “It’s a little more complicated than I’ve told you, son. I-I’m afraid I have to ask you to forgive me.”

  Will’s head came up, and his dark eyes sharpened with interest. “What is it?”

  Reid wanted to look away, but he forced himself to let Will in—to let him see the anguish and remorse he was feeling. “Lauren’s biggest sword over my head is that s-she adopted you, Will. When we met, you were two. After we were married, I pushed her to adopt you. Unless I pay her, she plans to tell you the truth because she knew I hadn’t.”

  The color receded from Will’s face. “Not my mother? You were married before her? Who’s my mother?”

  Reid cringed at the barrage of questions. This was precisely why he hadn’t told Will. How did he even tell him all of it? And should he? Truth was important, but so was Will’s mental state. While logically he knew he couldn’t keep hurts from his boy, he hated being the one to inflict the wound.

  “We were never legally married, and s-she left us when you were a newborn.”

  Will’s shoulders slumped. “I must have been some kid to have two mothers desert me.”

  Reid winced and he put his hand on his boy’s shoulder. “I was afraid you’d take it like that, which is why I didn’t want to tell you. Your real mother loved you, but there were circumstances that happened after you were born. It wasn’t your fault. It was mine.”

  He’d bought into all the lies, all the deception. True faith didn’t live the way he’d been taught back then. He’d learned so much, but it was too late. Much too late.

  Will shoved back from the island bar. “Nice try, Dad. I can’t believe you lied to me like this. How can I ever believe anything you say now? I should have known about this from the start.”

  “You’re right. I have no excuse other than wanting to protect you. I was wrong. I hope you can forgive me.” Reid reached toward his son, but Will knocked his hand away.

  “Don’t touch me. Not now. I don’t know how to feel.”

  Will rushed to the stairs. Moments later his bedroom door slammed. It was several minutes before the strains of “Hotel California” floated down. Will loved classic rock, and the Eagles was his band of choice when he was upset.

  It wouldn’t be long before Will returned with more questions. He would want to know his mother’s name and if Reid had ever found her. He’d want to see pictures and know why she left. He’d demand the truth—all of it.

  And Reid didn’t know what to say. Did he refuse to speak of it? If he clammed up and didn’t tell Will everything, their home would turn into an armed camp. And how could that be the right thing to do?

  Reid groaned and slapped his forehead. If only he’d told Will the truth from the time he was young. He’d have gotten over any curiosity long ago, and Reid wouldn’t be facing this tiger right now.

  He plodded back into the living room and sank onto the sofa. His Bible was on the stand, and he picked it up. Running his fingers over the buttery leather, he prayed for wisdom and for his son’s heart. This could destroy Will. Reid had been so very stupid and shortsighted.

  He riffled through the pages, and his Bible fell open at Ephesians 4. A highlighted verse jumped out at him.

  “Therefore each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to your neighbor, for we are all members of one body.”

  So if he lied to Will, he was basically lying to himself. If the situation were reversed, he’d want the unvarnished truth, but it had the ability to blow up their lives in ways Reid couldn’t even foresee.

  Yet the apostles had gone to their deaths with the truth. He wasn’t being asked to put his head on a chopping block. How did he refuse when faced with that?

  The back of his neck radiated pain up his head, and he rubbed the sore spots. He didn’t have to spill it all yet—not until Will asked. It was a reprieve, but it wouldn’t last long. A few days, a week. In the meantime, he had to figure out how to soften the blow.

  * * *

  I shouldn’t be here.

  The blended voices singing a peppy praise tune of some kind felt like a blow against Jane’s heart. If it wasn’t for Olivia standing beside her, Jane would have already bolted for the door. But Olivia needed her. While her condition hadn’t deteriorated, Jane knew it was coming.

  The church was fairly new with modern seating instead of pews. Discreet can lights illuminated the room from the cathedral ceiling. The church was full this morning, and she caught a glimpse of Reid and Will on the other side toward the back. She hadn’t realized he attended here.

  Megan craned her neck. “It’s usually packed on Easter.”

  The girl looked pale and drawn. She’d probably researched ALS, too, and discovered the severity of the diagnosis.

  Easter Sunday. Jane hadn’t even thought about what day it was. She followed Olivia’s cues and sank back into her seat as the pastor took the podium for the message. She tensed as she waited for him to harangue the congregation on their sins. Instead, he began to talk about love, God’s love, loving others, patience, and long-suffering. Sh
e blinked at his lack of condemnation.

  The words were a soothing balm on an emotional wound she’d carried for years, but it would take a long time to truly heal her deep lacerations. Still, this church was very different from what she’d experienced. Maybe it was all a front. She would reserve judgment.

  After shaking what felt like thousands of hands, Jane escaped with Olivia and Megan into the sunshine. “I’m going with Reid after church. Could you check on Parker this afternoon and see if he needs to go out?”

  “Megan and I will take him for a walk. I wish you wouldn’t do this,” Olivia said. “No good can come from trying to confront them.”

  “I don’t plan to confront them—I just want to see if my mother is there.”

  “And what if she is? What will you do? March up and demand she come with you? That’s a recipe for disaster.”

  “I’ll try not to make a scene. Just . . . pray for me.” She pressed her fingers on Olivia’s arm when she saw Reid’s SUV pulling up in front of the church. “I-I think I might come back to church with you, Olivia. No promises, but it was . . . nice.”

  Olivia’s blue eyes brightened. “I thought you might like it. I’ll see you tomorrow at work. Good luck, and hang on to your temper.”

  “I will.” Jane hurried out to the SUV but didn’t see the boy. “Will isn’t going?”

  “He went home with a friend to play basketball in their driveway.”

  Reid looked handsome today in khaki pants and a red polo shirt that accented his dark eyes and tan. She smoothed the skirt of her blue dress and wished she’d brought a change of clothes.

  She pulled her small laptop from her bag. “I thought I might research on the drive. I’ve got my hotspot on. Honestly, I don’t want to dwell on what’s about to happen.”

  He shot her a glance. “I’m sure you’re tense about it.”

  “Beyond tense.” She flipped the laptop open and called up her browser. “Do you know much about ALS?”

  “Just that Stephen Hawking lived over fifty years with it.”

  “What? Seriously?” She’d seen pictures of the famous physicist in a wheelchair but had assumed he’d been born with a disability.

  “He was diagnosed at a young age. You’re concerned about Olivia, aren’t you?”

  “You know about her diagnosis?”

  “She’s on the prayer list.”

  Jane hadn’t realized Olivia would be so open about it, but of course she would want her church to know. “It seems like such an awful disease.”

  “I’ve been wondering if she’s been tested for Lyme. It’s often misdiagnosed as ALS.”

  “I hadn’t heard that. I doubt she has either. I’m going to look it up.” She plunged into research, and what she learned gave her a ray of hope.

  When she emerged from her research, they were on the outskirts of Coffeeville.

  A few minutes later Reid slowed the SUV. “There it is.”

  Every fiber of Jane’s being knew this was a wild-goose chase, but she couldn’t help herself. Though the air-conditioning blew full blast out of the vents, her forehead still beaded with perspiration. She drew in several shaky breaths.

  A heavy chain and padlock secured the metal gate, and beyond the barrier she saw a small encampment of cabins and tents, very similar to the compound she’d fled with her father. Had it really been almost fifteen years since that icy, terrifying flight into the dark night?

  The heavy humidity pressed in on Jane like a suffocating wool blanket when she got out to look at the lock. “I’ll need bolt cutters.”

  “I brought some. I called the landowner and asked for permission to go onto his land. The group has been squatting here, and he’s started the eviction process, but it takes a while. He was glad to let us in.”

  He got out and popped the back hatch, then carried the cutters to the chain.

  She held out her hand. “Let me do it.”

  He gave her a quick look, then handed them over. The bolt cutters were heavy and hard to maneuver, but she managed to snap the thick chain, and it jangled as it fell against the metal gate. She pulled it free and opened the gate.

  “Let’s do this.” She got back in the SUV and stared at the compound as Reid got in.

  It felt as though every cell in her body was trembling and vibrating as he drove through the gates toward the rough-hewn building squatting in the center of the clearing ahead. The meetinghouse would be the first stop. At this time of day the group would likely be there.

  She ran her window down and flipped off the air so she could hear better. Mount Sinai had more guns than most armies, and she didn’t want to risk Reid’s life in a surprise attack.

  The vehicle barely idled forward as she scrutinized the little colony. Though only two hours away, this place felt otherworldly in a way that made the hair rise on the back of her neck. The metal buildings would hold the community’s arsenal, and she held her breath, listening for the chambering of a shell into a shotgun barrel. The only noise that floated through the window was the cawing of a grackle from a stand of trees.

  Reid slowed the SUV to a stop in front of the meetinghouse and threw it into Park, then opened his door. “Stay here.”

  She opened her door. “Not on your life. I don’t like the feel of this place, but I don’t want you to go alone. It’s not safe.”

  Hand on the grip of her gun, Jane stalked toward the meetinghouse and mounted the rough wooden steps. The door opened with ease, and she peered into the gloom of the windowless building. Dust motes swirled in the shaft of sunlight slanting into the interior from the open door.

  It held only empty benches. She frowned and turned back toward Reid. “No one’s inside.”

  And now that she was looking closer, she realized no clothes flapped from the clotheslines and no food smells wafted in the air, though the women should have been preparing dinner.

  “We’re too late. They’re gone.”

  The rock in her stomach hardened, and for the first time she realized maybe Olivia was right. Her search for her mother had turned into an obsession, but she wasn’t sure what to do about it. “Let’s go. There’s nothing here for us.”

  She needed to let it go. Her mother and the life they’d shared were both part of her past, and if she wanted to heal, she had to close the curtain on that part of her life.

  She was strong enough to do this, and she would.

  Twenty-Four

  Three o’clock. Reid’s stomach rumbled since they had driven straight to the compound without stopping for a meal. He’d brought a few Kind bars and some jerky, but it wasn’t much.

  Jane liked Mexican so he’d found this place in Jackson. He eyed Jane over the top of the menu. She hadn’t spoken two words since they left the empty compound, but he knew it had hit her hard.

  He closed his menu and snagged a tortilla chip the server had brought a few minutes ago. “I think I’ll have chicken enchiladas.”

  “I’ll have arroz con pollo.” She laid her menu on top of his. “I want to thank you for bringing me all this way, Reid. It was above and beyond the call of duty. I’ll see what I can find out about Lauren to show my gratitude.”

  His neck heated at the mention of her name. “I appreciate it. I’d already told Will she was alive and asking for money, but last night I told him she was the woman who’d been staring at us. He’s a little upset I hadn’t told him sooner.”

  And a whole lot upset about even more, but he wasn’t ready to tell her that yet.

  She took a sip of her sweet tea. “Is that the real reason he didn’t come today?”

  “Yeah. I wish buying him a stuffed animal would soothe things like they used to. He’s a little big for that.”

  “You’ve done an amazing job raising him. I haven’t seen many teenagers like him. He’s so respectful and hardworking.”

  Her words were a balm to his hurting heart. “I’ve made plenty of mistakes.”

  “Nothing fatal.”

  She looked so beautiful wi
th the sun through the window lighting her hair. Her eyes seemed more green than hazel, and he reached across the table to grasp her hand. “You doing okay with the disappointment, or would you rather not talk about it?”

  Her fingers closed around his, and she gave a gentle squeeze. “It’s funny. I’m not as upset as I thought I’d be. It was almost a relief, you know? What was I really going to stay to her? Why didn’t you love me more than Moses? Why haven’t you even sent me a birthday card?” She wrinkled her nose. “Wednesday is my thirtieth birthday, and I think it’s time I grew up and put childish things behind me. People have had much worse childhoods than I did.”

  He supposed she’d seen horrific home situations over the years. “What was it like for you?” His own experience wasn’t the same as the other children in camp. His dad had power, and he got away with more than the others.

  But in spite of all that, he realized his childhood had hardly been a normal one. His father had been more like a taskmaster than a dad, and there hadn’t been any real play time in his memory. Only work and rules and punishment. Once his mother disappeared, all that had gotten even worse. Reid couldn’t remember a single time his father had ever said he loved him.

  She hadn’t released his hand. “I have no memory of my life ever being lighthearted. No playing on a swing set or climbing trees or fishing. One of my main duties was the garden, and it felt like I spent hours and hours pulling weeds and hauling buckets of water. I was doing the laundry by the time I was eight. But it wasn’t the work—that’s good for a kid. It was the constant disapproval, the imminent feeling of punishment coming my way.”

  He squeezed her hand tighter. Her memories mirrored his. “Your parents were harsh?”

  “Harsh, distracted, yes. But it wasn’t just them. The group believed all adults were charged with the job of disciplining the children. I might have been Harry’s age or even younger when I came home with blood streaming down my legs from a switching the neighbor gave me. I’d been peeking at the horses and had opened a gate. One of the ponies got out. I avoided that man, but he was always glaring at me.”