Unforgivable (Romantic Suspense) Page 12

  Ben checked in twice. At lunch, she closed down the place and walked to the diner. Since their building was set back from the road a short distance, the shortcut went right through the cemetery. She hadn’t actually minded being next to the cemetery too much until her last birthday. She wished her mama were there. She’d been cremated and her ashes sprinkled into the creek they’d spent so many wonderful afternoons at. Her mama would forever travel with the water, exploring the world the way she hadn’t been able to do in life.

  The new cemetery, over by the Methodist church on the other side of town, was kept pristine and trimmed. Nobody had touched the old cemetery for what looked like a hundred years. Once this had been the final resting place for the town’s oldest and wealthiest families. Some had constructed detailed iron fences around their marble gravestones and crypts. Now, huge oak trees grew right around some of those fences, warping and breaking them. Gates hung crookedly, as though the ghosts had long ago risen and stormed out of their iron prisons. Ivy grew all over the moldy gravestones and slabs, as though trying to keep the remaining ghosts from escaping.

  The cemetery sprawled over the small hill and dipped down to the far edge of their property. Some graves were only marked with jagged stones. Deep in the shadows unmarked mounds were barely visible, claimed by no one.

  She found an odd peace here sometimes, a sense of time marching on. Sadness also permeated her in the way the sunlight permeated the canopy of leaves to sprinkle down upon the graves and the faded silk flowers left here and there. Even here, she didn’t belong. She had no history here, no family in either cemetery. Some folks in town could trace their history right there, great-grandparents, grandparents, parents, heroes honored for wars as notable as The War of 1812. Though few families tended to the graves, she could feel their pride at their heritage. Or maybe it was her envy.

  The walk to the diner took fifteen minutes when she didn’t linger at the graves. Harold waved at her from his chair outside his old barn. His pit bull was sitting next to his chair watching her. Then she realized Harold was actually waving her over. She quickly averted her gaze to the ground and was relieved to near the busy parking lot of the small shopping strip that housed the diner.

  The sign begging for volunteers for the fair was still in the window.

  The conversation level was high when she opened the door. It was habit for everyone to check out the new arrival, and she expected all eyes to momentarily shift to her. She put a warm smile on her face and greeted the familiar faces. Most resumed their conversation without returning her smile.

  “Hey, how are you?” she asked Loralei, the woman who cut her hair.

  “Fine, how’re ya’ll doing?” she asked.

  Katie rolled her eyes. “Going to the dogs.”

  No one laughed. No one even smiled. Loralei forced something like a smile and went back to looking at the menu.

  With a sigh that tried to cover the hurt, Katie walked to the counter. She’d been planning on eating there, but she didn’t feel welcome. She took the stool at the end of the counter. Dinah handed her a menu and said, “Be right with you.”

  Ten minutes later, she still hadn’t been with her. Katie pretended to be interested in the placemat that fit twenty business cards. Even if it was tacky to advertise in such a way, she was envious that Dinah had her own money. Of course, her husband had had to die for it to happen.

  Nearby conversations centered around Silas Koole being back in town—goodness how could they have not recognized him?—and the missing girl and rumors of connected disappearances.

  She was startled to find Sam Savino staring at her. He sat by himself—no surprise there. Dressed in a smart three-piece suit, he out-dressed everyone else there. She forced herself to meet his gaze and a trill of alarm sounded deep in her belly. There was something about him, something beyond the way he stared at her even though she was looking at him. She hated that it was she who looked away first.

  She spotted Marion Tate having lunch with her cronies at one of the booths. She summoned her courage and walked over. All four women looked up with surprise.

  “Hi, ya’ll. Mrs. Tate, whatever you need help with at the fair, I’d be glad to help out.”

  There, she’d done it. Now Ben couldn’t stop her, couldn’t have her take back her offer once it was accepted.

  “We don’t need your help,” Marion said without the faintest glimmer of a smile. “But thanks so much for offering anyway.”

  It was the most insincere thanks she’d ever gotten. Katie nodded toward the sign. “But the sign said…”

  “Never mind the sign. We just got the last of the volunteers we needed. You’re a little late.”

  Marion went back to whatever conversation they’d been having, leaving Katie to stand there red-faced. The first face she saw was Sam’s. He’d probably overheard the conversation. She numbly walked back to the counter to find her stool had been taken. Her stomach was all knotted up not knowing what to do. Dinah hadn’t even looked her way once. Some folks had overheard Katie’s conversation with the women and were now whispering about it. She turned and left the diner with as much dignity as she could muster. With her arms around her waist and her head down, she walked back to the animal hospital and nibbled on a package of cheese and crackers.

  What had she ever done to those people? She hated to admit how their indifference hurt, but it did. She was married to the most popular man in town, and they all hated her.

  The highlight of the day was Bertrice telling Katie about her escapades over the weekend. The girls had gone to a tattoo artist.

  Bertrice lifted her pant leg. “Isn’t he too cool? I call him Ed, for Eye Dude.” That’s exactly what Ed was, an eyeball with legs, arms, and a top hat. “Geraldine got a butterfly on her shoulder. She has no imagination. Kelly got a bracelet tattooed on her arm. Looks like barbed wire. Now we gotta hide these puppies from our parents. Well, Kelly’s parents don’t care, they’re not even together anymore. My mom would skin me if she found out. She is so uncool. I’m going to be a cool mom when I’m her age.”

  Katie wasn’t sure if her mama had been cool or not. She had no idea how she would age, what areas would become problems. If she made it past twenty-seven herself.

  “Wanna come over for dinner?” Bertrice asked when they left for the day. “You being alone and all. I’m sure my mom won’t mind.”

  Just the thought of sharing a dinner with Bertrice and her family, of mother-daughter chatter and arguments, was too much for Katie to bear. She was feeling way too fragile. “That’s sweet of you, but if Ben calls and I’m not home, he’ll worry. I’ll be fine, really.”

  Bertrice shrugged. “Whatever. But you’re welcome any night.”

  “Thanks, I…” She saw a pair of old sneakers tied together by their shoelaces hanging over the phone lines. Such an everyday sight in rural America. Now something sinister.

  She had the worst urge to hug Bertrice goodbye and luckily overcame it. She waved as Bertrice pulled out of the driveway, and it was quiet again. She scanned the woods bordering her yard. In the shadows, a spray of leaves looked like a waving hand, the only thing moving at the moment. Then a breeze rushed through, bringing the forest alive with movement and noise. One of her squirrels climbed up the tree, its tail twitching. She tried to forget about Harold, Silas, and the trace of evil that lingered in the air. She tried not to think about Ben feeling as though someone were watching him. She had a long night ahead of her.

  CHAPTER 9

  Katie heated the leftover chicken and wished she’d taken Bertrice up on her offer of dinner. As painful as it would have been to watch her and her mom bicker, it would have been better than loneliness.

  Katie had never minded being alone. She rarely was. Usually she got to relax and read her hidden Cosmopolitan magazines. Tonight it just gave her too much time to think. And notice every little noise outside.

  She walked out the back door, but stayed on the step. A walk through the woods would have c
leared her head, but now the darkness was steeped in evil. And Silas, he was out there too, in the shadows. Her last fearless pursuit had been robbed from her. Instead of enjoying the rush of sound as wind pummeled the leaves, she realized the cacophony could cover footsteps. Instead of enjoying the shadows moving through the trees as a kind of living art, she now wondered if a living being was one of those shadows.

  Miles above her a plane crossed the open space in the forest. As always, she wondered where they were going. She pictured families and businesspeople, some going to an exciting place, some returning from one. She had the strongest urge to get on one herself for the first time and just go anywhere, but she had no money of her own, no way to get to an airport.

  Like a bug in a spider’s web.

  She glanced back at the corner window and could barely see the gloss of the spider’s web. Is this how her mama had felt that last night? Trapped by circumstances, wondering if she was even worthy of what she had. Feeling isolated in a way no one else could possibly understand? She desperately wanted to understand the depth of despair her mama had felt to leave her daughter behind. Katie vacillated between guilt over having argued with and then leaving her mama that night and anger at her. That was the legacy her mama had left her, along with the certainty that she would also die young.

  The sound of tires crunching against gravel shot her heart up into her throat. Headlights slashed across the leaves briefly before disappearing. She ran inside and went to the front window.

  The sheriff’s vehicle was barely visible. Was Tate back with more insidious news about Silas?

  As soon as she opened the door, she wanted to slam it shut again, but Gary just strolled right in as though he’d been invited for supper. “Evening, Katie.” He even sniffed the air and said, “Smells good in here. I’m not disturbing your supper, am I?”

  She hated the way he said her name, drawing it out and adding a cup of sugar to it like they were old friends. It was the same way he’d said it all those years ago when she’d been too young to see through it. She stayed by the door. “What do you want?” Her voice sound shaky and weak.

  He had the gall to sit in Ben’s throne chair. His uniform was wrinkled, and his dark hair was mussed. “Sheriff has us working on the Koole case every spare minute. Protecting our fair citizens is mighty tiring. Do I smell coffee?”

  “It’s decaf.”

  Her intent was to dissuade him, but he nodded. “I’ll take anything that remotely smells like coffee, thanks.”

  She couldn’t believe it. Why hadn’t she just told him to leave? Now she was actually walking to the kitchen to fix the jerk a cup of coffee. She didn’t offer him sugar or cream, but apparently he didn’t mind. He sipped from the mug without complaining.

  Never before had Katie so sharply felt like her mama. She’d seen stark fear in her eyes at the approach of a man. She wished she’d known what caused her mama’s fear. Her father, perhaps? The man she would learn about someday, when you’re old enough to understand. That day never came.

  She positioned herself near the door again, angry for being less comfortable in her home than the intruder. “What do you want?” This time the words came out stronger.

  “Shucks, used to be a visit from a lawman would be welcome from a woman all by herself out in the woods. Especially considering I’m the one who found out you got a killer as a neighbor.” He snapped his finger. “That’s right, he’s your pal, isn’t he?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Or maybe more.”

  “Leave, please.”

  He set his coffee mug on the table and settled back in the chair with a low chuckle. His blunt fingers curled over the curved wood of the chair arms. “Katie, you and me, we need to come to an understanding. I should be your pal, not Spooky Silas. You and me are more alike than you know.”

  Through a tight throat she said, “Leave or I’ll call the sheriff.”

  He outright laughed at that. “You’re gonna call the sheriff on me. Now that’s a laugh and a half, it is. You’re gonna complain because one of his deputies stopped by to check on you, make sure you’re okay. To let you know Silas isn’t over there right now, though we’re trying to keep an eye on him.” He pulled himself up to his six-foot-one frame and walked closer. “They’ll think you’re a paranoid priss.”

  They would. Who would believe her over Gary? They didn’t last time.

  She could smell fresh aftershave slathered over the sweat of a long day. God, she wished she were up in that plane right now. He studied her face, though she tried to keep the fear from her expression so he wouldn’t feed off it. His intent gaze sent that same trill of alarm through her that she’d felt from Sam Savino.

  “Soon you’re going to find out that I’m your pal, not Silas. As soon as you can forgive me and stop looking at me like you want to rip out my guts and feed ‘em to a dog, you’re gonna see that I’m the only one you can really trust. Then I can forgive you for putting this here scar on me.”

  She stepped away and opened the door. Having an escape route was more comfortable, at least until she realized Gary could catch up with her in two seconds. He moved slowly toward the doorway, but he paused in front of her. She summoned the image of her younger self, afraid of no one, even if he was bigger and richer. She’d put the scar on his face then, the fine line from the corner of his right eye to his hairline.

  He reached inside his shirt and pulled out a folded sketch paper. “There’s something the sheriff doesn’t know. Something I found at Silas’s.”

  She expected to see some gruesome sketch like the photographs the sheriff had described. What she saw was even more disturbing. It was a pencil sketch of a woman kneeling at a small grave. The grave was in a patch of woods with a plant for every one of his eleven years of life. A small, flat stone sat in the middle of the plants, and…could it even be her teardrops he’d drawn on the stone?

  She grabbed the paper from Gary’s hand. “It’s impossible!”

  “It’s you, isn’t it?”

  She couldn’t even answer him. Yes, it was her. The day Boots had died and she’d buried him behind her garden. Nobody knew about the garden, not even Ben. She figured he’d think it was silly. And her feelings and grief for her cat weren’t something she wanted to share with anyone, not even her new husband. She’d held in her feelings until he’d gone on a farm call.

  Silas had been there. That was the only explanation of how he’d captured all the details, even what she’d been wearing. But how? Surely she would have heard him traipsing through the woods.

  “There was more,” Gary said once she’d absorbed the sketch. “I didn’t get a chance to read much of it, but he had a journal…about you. He had your wedding day, notes about how you weren’t sure you loved Ben enough, but you owed him so much.”

  Her head jerked up at that, but not a word formed in her mind. No one knew about her ambivalence. No one. Even though Ben always wanted them to share their feelings with each other, she never, ever shared that. “What else?” she finally asked.

  “That’s all I could read. There was too much to take in.”

  She looked down at the sketch again, bewildered and spooked. Spooky Silas.

  “You didn’t tell the sheriff about this?”

  “I wanted to tell you myself. It’s our secret, Katie. Didn’t I tell you you could trust me? Only me?”

  Before she could even form a response to that, because no way in hell did she trust him, the police siren shattered the air. Gary ran to the driver’s side of his vehicle. After a moment, a siren went silent again. He walked back toward the house, but she closed the door. She could hear his boots on the wooden steps.

  “Go away!” she said, fortified by the door between them. She couldn’t face him anyway, couldn’t begin to assimilate this with him standing there gloating.

  “Katie, you know we need to talk about this.” After a moment, he said, “I’m gonna keep my eye on you. Don’t you worry about a thing. We’ll talk again.” Then he walked to his vehicle and
pulled out.

  She tried to catch her breath as she stared at the sketch. How could he have been there? And more eerily, how could he have been inside her heart when she and Ben were exchanging vows at the Justice of the Peace?

  A knock on the front door a few minutes later sent her out of her skin. Especially since she hadn’t heard a car drive up. She wasn’t ready to deal with Gary again, or anybody. She took the gun from the drawer and walked to the front window.

  What her heart really didn’t need at the moment was to see Silas’s rangy frame leaning against the column. He was wearing jeans and a black shirt. She stood at the window for a few seconds, deciding what to do. Ignore him would be the safest, all things considered, but she needed answers, answers only he could provide. She cracked open the door, somehow knowing he wouldn’t barge into her home like Gary had.

  He kept his distance, remaining by the column. “You all right?”

  “Not really.” She opened the door a fraction more and looked beyond Silas. He’d walked over—no vehicle. She pressed the gun against the wall next to the door. “I’m…well, I’m not in danger, if that’s what you mean.” Maybe.

  He didn’t look convinced. “Who was the guy who took you to work this morning? And where’s Ben?”

  “Ben’s at a conference in Atlanta for a few days. That was Harold, one of Ben’s friends.” She narrowed her eyes. “How did you know?”

  “Saw you in his truck. Harold who?”

  “Boyd. Why?”

  He hammered out the questions, “How long has he been in town? What do you know about him?”

  “He’s been here for several years now, owns One Man’s Trash, that second hand place on the corner. That’s about all I know, or want to know, about him.”