Breath of Dawn, The (29 page)

She stared at her hands. “I uninstalled the software before I transferred the funds to the other account.”

“So they followed the trail to the first account, but then it disappeared.”

“I gave them all the proof the software collected.”

“But it didn’t collect your part.”

She looked away. “They asked who knew about the software, and I told them I confronted Markham.”

Which pointed right back at him. So why did the feds suspect an accomplice? “Have you used the money?”

“Not one cent. I didn’t take it the way they think.”

“You didn’t turn it over.”

The line of her mouth hardened.

“The congregation could have gotten their money back.”

“They didn’t deserve it back. They played God like a big slot machine in the sky. And guess what? They lost.”

It was her father’s betrayal speaking. She may have had one intention in transferring the money, but when he sided with Markham it became something else.

“For once in my life, I wanted him to take my side, to be my champion.” Her voice shook. “I should have known it wouldn’t come from him, but if one person had spoken up . . .” Her eyes teared. “Instead, I had to leave. I couldn’t stay in that hypocrisy. And I knew when Markham got out, I’d be alone. No one watching my back.”

It hurt to hear it, but he knew it was the truth. Slipping an arm around her shoulders, he tipped his face to the sky, looking not for a shower of silver dollars but a ray of hope.

She felt the tears coming and couldn’t stop them. “I didn’t mean to get you and Livie in trouble. Let me leave before they put it together.”

“You have my name, Erin. How long do you think it’ll take?”

She swiped the tears angrily. “You can tell them I fooled you.”

“And they’ll think me naïve and gullible?”

She shivered, suddenly cold and hurting all over.

“Come on.” He pulled her up.

The ankle she’d sprained before throbbed afresh. Her arms felt as if she’d been racked. Her ribs ached, her hands throbbed, and her purse strap had burned the side of her neck.

“You’re not indestructible, you know. I sparred with rocks like those. They win.”

“Is this a pep talk?” She pushed back a hank of hair.

“Not really. I’m incensed your first instinct was to ditch me and Livie.”

“You said I used you to double-cross Markham.”

“You asked for fake ID.”

“Because I knew he’d come after me.”

He turned and stared her hard in her face. “Don’t ever run from me again. I’m not a punk like Markham.”

She gulped. “You’re a public figure. How will it look for you to be harboring a fugitive?”

“You’re not a fugitive. As far as I know, you’re not even a suspect.”

“Just an accomplice.” She grimaced. “With
Markham
.”

“I said that to shock you into the truth.”

“I never lied.”

“You withheld some crucial information.”

“I thought if you knew—”

“What? I wouldn’t marry you?”

“That was all you.” He had to know she wouldn’t con her way into his life that way. If he’d gotten her an ID, she could have kept running and hiding without affecting him at all. She took a step and winced. “Am I in trouble?”

He helped her through the undergrowth onto the street. “We’ll put a better mind to that than mine.”

“Whose?”

“William St. Claire, defense attorney.”

She pictured the powerful man, the powerful office. Limping beside Morgan, she felt worse than a fool. She hadn’t thought past Markham and her father, past the elders who gambled on God. It had been her chance to prove her mind equal to theirs, and unfortunately she had.

The weight of her bad choices settled as the gate slowly opened. Sensing her letdown, Morgan bent and lifted her. She pressed her face to his collarbone, pinned together after his crash. If he could be fixed after that, maybe this could be fixed too.

“Own any small third-world countries?”

He laughed grimly. “Hadn’t realized I’d need one.”

As they crossed the courtyard, Consuela opened the door. In his housekeeper’s arms, Livie stared at them both. Morgan leaned and kissed the child, then continued past, all the way up the stairs into the master bathroom.

“When you’re done washing up, we’ll have a look at the damage.”

She nodded mutely.

“Don’t worry.”

Did he think that remotely possible?

On the way out, he paused. “Is there any chance you’ll bolt again?”

Where would she go?

“I have a state-of-the-art alarm system to keep bad things out. Don’t make me use it to keep you in.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she shook her head. Flight had been a knee-jerk reaction. The near disaster of the cliff demonstrated that futility. She could have died. Or been maimed and mangled. “I’m not going anywhere.” Except maybe jail.

M
organ thrust his fingers into his hair. He needed answers, and former special agent turned private investigator Richard Anselm had contacts. Why did the feds suspect an accomplice, and who did they think it was? Erin might be so far off their radar, she had nothing to worry about. They would make it right, but he always preferred offense to defense.

In response to his request, Anselm said, “I’ll get back to you.”

Knowing Livie must be worried, he retrieved her from Consuela, then went back upstairs. Erin emerged from the bathroom with such a tender expression it stopped his tirade, however softly he might have delivered it.

She said, “I don’t want what I did to endanger her. I won’t run, but I’ll understand if you need me to go.”

“What if I need you to stay?”

“FBI, Morgan. And from what you said, Markham’s even worse. You have to believe I didn’t know that, or I would never—”

“Is he a killer?” He held Livie close.

“I don’t know.” She looked achingly vulnerable. “But if I give the FBI the money, he has no reason to let me live.”

Holding Livie, he felt the fear closing in. He had too much to lose. It was too easy to lose it. His heart pounded. His temples throbbed. He saw Erin’s grim determination. She would go if he said so.

Moments stretched. He felt Livie’s arms around him. Into his mind came a thought, planted by Kelsey, reinforced in his time at Rick’s. “I think we should pray.”

Erin’s gaze fell. “No.”

“No?”

“I won’t use God that way.”

“Use God?”

“I got myself into this, Morgan. I don’t expect God to bail me out. That’s just like the rest of them. If I do this, what will God do? When I give this, how much will I get?” She limped to the bed and sat down. “I can’t, or I’m the biggest hypocrite of all.”

He understood things had been warped. But she was missing the point. “It’s a relationship, Erin. You think God wants no part of your life?”

“I worship and believe. I just don’t ask.”

“Awe is one thing. But there’s another side to it.” He stroked Livie’s back. “This little girl adores me. Do you think I could bear not loving and caring for her?”

Morgan’s relationship with Livie was the purest argument he could have made. He’d given that baby life. He deserved her adoration, but it didn’t end there. How could it? They’d both be stunted and impoverished.

She felt it herself—the joy of meeting Livie’s needs, of delighting her, of sheltering, guarding, and nurturing her. What if she longed to love Livie and the little one refused every overture, if Livie would give hugs and kisses, but shunned anything in return?

She clenched her hands. Letting God care for her felt like proving her own father right, that she was weak and helpless, unable to make her own decisions, that she shouldn’t trust the mind he’d given her to get out of her own mess.

“Erin.” As Morgan sat down beside her, Livie crawled into her lap. “I spent most of my life doing it my way. It’s bogus.”

She startled. “Are you kidding? Look what you have.”

“I could lose it all and be no poorer than I’ve always been. What matters are the ones we love. I can’t control who lives and dies, but I can give everything I am to the ones I have.” He clasped her hand. “Do you think I’m more generous than God? Are you?”

“No! Of course not.”

“Needing help doesn’t mean we’re incapable. It means we’re human. And that we have the sense to recognize our limitations.”

“Then everything I did, what I tried to make them see, was it all wrong?”

His face softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You recognized a con. The elders didn’t see it. Your dad wouldn’t listen.”

“He should have!”

“No one’s perfect.”

She pressed a hand to her face. “I thought I knew so much.”

He huffed a laugh. “At your age, there wasn’t a question I couldn’t answer.”

“And now that you’re old?”

He jabbed her, and when he saw that it tickled, he pushed her down and had at it.

“Stop!”

He caught her face and kissed her.

“Kiss
me
, Daddy.”

Morgan kissed his little girl, then turned back with something fierce in his eyes. “I’ll do everything I can. But only so much is humanly possible.”

Reaching up, she encircled his neck. “Then pray.”

Standing at the window of Quinn’s A-frame, Markham’s jaw felt as though an ice pick had been inserted into the joint. If he heard the tremulous tone in Hannah’s voice one more time, he might strangle her. It would be a mercy killing—putting himself out of his misery.

“We have to make plans,” she said.

Where had she hidden this trait? The woman had taken his handmaid statement as some sort of proposal and kept prying
at him for dates and details. Her persistence shocked and infuriated him.

“I have to go out.”

“I’ll come with you.” She sprang up from the salvaged sofa in Quinn’s living room.

“You can’t. We might still need you to play Quinn’s sister.”

“I am Quinn’s sister.”

“I mean her loving sister.”

She blinked big, sorrowful eyes. They both knew that wasn’t a role she played well.

“I’ll bring you something to eat.” He held out his hand. “Let me have your debit card.”

Gulping back tears, she gave it. “I don’t like being alone here.”

He considered the situation, certain he didn’t want her coming, but he couldn’t leave her crying either. He’d pay for that for sure. “Hold on a minute.”

He went out to the warehouse and slipped inside, regretting and yet exulting in the destruction. He searched through the rubble and found the kind of books people put on tables for bored guests to look through. He chose three relatively undamaged and brought them to Hannah.

“Here.”

She looked from them to him. “For me?”

“Of course. Quinn left them.”

She took the books and sat back down. He went out feeling unencumbered and magnanimous.

The bartender’s comment about Spencer’s wife had given him a lead. Using a computer in what passed for the town’s library, he slogged through site after site to finally find a tribute to Spencer’s wife, who’d died in a tragic accident in Santa Barbara County. It was a very big deal. The Fire Department could have been sued, but no settlement was reported—only
Mr. Spencer remains devoted to the community.

What kind of man didn’t seek retribution for his dead wife? Markham rubbed his jaw. He needed to know more, and he wouldn’t find it in the business journals. He went back to the Roaring Boar,
glanced scathingly at the general store goob eating at the bar, and sat down at the other end.

With Hannah’s debit card, he ordered barbecue and beer and another sandwich to go. It would be a splurge, since the allowance her father put monthly into her bank account was meager after the church’s financial hit. Had to hand it to a man who could ride that storm and not lose his followers. Never underestimate faithful indoctrination, the lifeblood of his own ministry.

People wanted to be conned. Like the unquestioning housewives in Pastor Reilly’s congregation, the whole church had ridden his wave. The fervor of believing, even a lie, lifted them out of the workaday slog to a spiritual plane of sacrifice and expectation.

He took a swallow of beer, the cold malt taste reminding him of the stale breaths and rank urine of the men who’d trained him to lie. He’d honed the skill in self-defense, then wielded it with such skill they’d never seen the final truth until their eyes glazed in death.

When the sandwich arrived, he bit a crisp chip as salt cleaned the malt from his mouth. He had barely initiated conversation with the bartender when he saw the fat deputy come in the door. The man conferred with the yokel from the general store, and a hint of apprehension snaked through Markham’s gut. He had nothing to fear, but memories of prison rushed through his mind.

Too much like a guard, the deputy eyed him. Markham returned the stare, something he would never have done inside.

The man sauntered over. “Markham Wilder?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Rudy Bauer there says you threatened a woman in his store.”

Markham glanced casually at ponytailed Rudy. “He’s mistaken.”

“You didn’t come in looking for Quinn Reilly?”

“I did come looking. But the only one threatened was me—with a shotgun.”

The deputy looked over his shoulder. “You pull your shotgun, Rudy?”

“I showed it to him.”

“It’s called brandishing, Deputy.” Markham could hardly hide the glee. “But I’m not pressing charges. I’m all live-and-let-live.”

The deputy braced his wide hips. “You have anything to do with her house?”

“Her house?”

Deputy Wentz looked annoyed. “Did you mess it up?”

“It didn’t look messed up when I visited her sister.”

The deputy frowned. “Her sister lives there?”

Markham shrugged. “The family had a falling out. Hannah’s trying to reconcile with Quinn but hasn’t been able to find her.”

“Guess I should go talk to her.”

“I’ll ask you not to.”

“Why not.” He put the law-enforcement edge on the words.

“She’s mentally delayed. It would upset her.”

He backed off instantly. “What part do you have in this?”

“Me? I’m her sister’s keeper.” Maybe he shouldn’t have chosen the odd phrase, as the deputy’s brow lowered. He quickly added, “I look out for her.” He reached into his wallet and took out his Doctor of Divinity ordination card. “As I said, Officer, I’m not the troublemaker here.”

Making sure he had some privacy, Morgan took the call in his home office. If the news was terrible, he wanted time to process it before he brought Erin in.

“Here’s what I got,” Anselm said. “During the trial, allegations connecting Markham Wilder to the same or similar church scams in other states got the feds involved. Because the monies appeared to be rolled over from one scam to the next, the investigation focused on discovering what he did with the accumulated funds after Quinn Reilly blew the whistle.”

“Makes sense. Why adopt the accomplice theory?”

“Jailhouse informant. A blue-collar embezzler looking to shave time came forward with comments Markham made. According to the source, Markham claims the money was stolen by someone he intends to take out—as in permanently.”

“Did he say who?”

“No name. But they got intent to commit murder and a line on the money.”

“Did this guy get credit for the information?”

“He did. And not only that—Markham received time off his sentence.”

“The feds wanted him out?”

“The informant provided cause to monitor Markham when he got out, not that they wouldn’t have anyway, but it looks better when you have it. So, Markham tracks down this other person, the agents track him, they get the money. Only problem, he went off the grid.”

“How?”

“My guess? An accomplice.”

He immediately thought of Erin’s sister. “What would that entail?”

“Someone paying his bills.”

“That’s all?”

“It’s not like he’s on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted list.”

Morgan frowned. “If he gets the money he could disappear altogether.”

“Happens more than you want to know.” Anselm cleared his throat. “You want to tell me your interest in this?”