Circumstantial Marriage (12 page)

The man was going to burn to death in his car.

Just like Tim Raymer, or at least how he’d supposedly died. Somehow, it seemed poetic justice that the man willing to kill to conceal the truth of Tim’s death should die in the same way.

Or maybe it wasn’t just poetic, but deliberate, she thought, as the smell of gasoline reached her on the breeze.

She frowned. There hadn’t been an explosion like the gas tank blowing up. The inside of the car had simply caught fire. It didn’t make sense. Why would the inside of the car catch fire so quickly?

Unless he’d had gasoline inside the car. But why—

This was the death he’d planned for them, she realized. Merely forcing them off the road wasn’t guaranteed to kill them. No, he would have had to do more than that to make sure they were dead, maybe to make sure their identities weren’t discovered for as long as possible. To do that, he would have set them on fire. That was why he’d brought the gasoline.

Instead, that death had turned out to be his.

Poetic indeed, she thought darkly, unable to summon the slightest bit of sympathy.

Then she glanced at Jason, again reminded that while Tim Raymer may not have died in a burning car, others had.

He stared at the inferno, unblinking, his expression unreadable. She remembered his reaction to the mere description of Tim Raymer’s death in the paper. She could only imagine what seeing an actual car in flames must be like for him, the memories it must bring back.

Audrey gently placed her hand on his forearm. A little charge passed through her fingers at the contact. She ignored it. “Are you all right?” she asked again.

He didn’t answer immediately, continuing to stare at the flames. Finally, he gave his head a little shake.

“I’m fine.” He glanced over at her and frowned, his eyes stroking her face with an intensity that sent another charge through her. “Are
you
all right?”

A smile touched her lips. “Still alive. That’s all that matters, right?”

To her surprise he smiled faintly, a ghost of one that was still incredibly potent when seen on his normally stoic face. “That’s right,” he said softly.

As expected, the smile quickly faded. “We need to get out of here,” he murmured. “We can’t be found here.”

He reached for her arm and she immediately fell into step beside him. “I assume you don’t want to report this either.”

“No. I’m sure someone will come along soon enough. When Bridges finds out his assassin is dead, he’ll move to replace him. No one knowing buys us some time.”

Yes,
some
time,
she thought as they returned to the car. But not nearly enough. Their pursuer had only been one man, but if Bridges could send one, he could certainly send others.

Meanwhile, she still didn’t have any idea whom they could turn to for answers who might be able to help them prove what they believed they knew.

They may have gained a little time, but it seemed they were still flat out of options.

Chapter Nine

Richard Bridges stood at the second-floor window and watched the preparations unfolding on the lawn behind the house. He’d arrived at the farm only an hour ago, and there were numerous things he should be doing. He needed to review the speech he was set to give tomorrow, the biggest speech of his life to date. His staff needed his input on various matters. And of course, Dick wanted to speak with him. That was nothing new—Dick always wanted to speak with him about something—but the man had been even more demanding over the past several months. Rich could only imagine what he’d be like over the next few years, let alone the years to follow, if he won.

But of course, first he had to officially declare his candidacy.

Below, the stage had been built and the podium set in place. He took in the multitude of signs and posters, the banner waiting to be unfurled. The sight did little to reduce the uneasiness that had been nagging at him more and more as this day approached.

Because, instead of the future, he found himself thinking more and more about the past.

Once he took that stage, once he gave that speech, he would be subject to a greater scrutiny than any he’d ever faced. Massive numbers of people would dedicate themselves to going over every bit of his life history, prepared to drag out the slightest bit of dirt and bare it to the harsh light of day.

A terrifying thought for anyone, to have their secrets exposed to the world, but even more so for someone who actually had something to hide.

He’d never thought it possible that anyone would find out. There was simply no way.

But now he wondered more and more if there was any way it
wouldn’t
be.

Sighing, he turned away from the window. Over the years, he’d never felt a single regret for anything he’d done. Why should he? All anyone could do in this life was do the best with the circumstances they were given. He’d done exactly what he had to, made the necessary choices, the hard decisions.

But was it all worth it?

Not too long ago he would have answered yes. He wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t made the choices he had, and this was exactly where he should be. He knew he was the right man to lead this country. He knew how much good he could do. It was for a greater good, not just his own, that he was prepared to fight for the presidency.

So why did he feel this persistent unease growing stronger every day?

Perhaps because now that he was on the verge of attaining so much, it simply reminded him of just how much he had to lose. And if anyone found out the truth, the choice he’d made so long ago, he
would
lose everything, he had no doubt about that. People wouldn’t understand. They would judge, as people inevitably did.

Of course, that was only
if
the truth came out.

And so, all he could do was move forward, prepare for the moment he’d been working for his entire adult life, and keep praying that the secrets they’d all worked so hard to bury remained that way.

A
UDREY AND
J
ASON
were quiet on the drive back to the inn. She knew they were both searching for a solution to their current situation, another way to get to the truth. When neither of them had spoken by the time they arrived, she guessed that meant he hadn’t come up with answers any more than she had.

The front desk was empty as they came through the door. Audrey was grateful for that, not really up to pretending to be happy for Marybeth’s benefit.

“I’m going to take a shower and change,” Jason said. She glanced at him, remembering how he’d climbed into the ditch. His clothes were rumpled and smudged with dirt.

Her stomach suddenly rumbled, the discovery that she could still be hungry at a time like this surprising her. She realized they hadn’t eaten anything today. “I think I’ll stay up here,” she told him. “It’s almost lunch-time. I’ll see if Marybeth has something to eat.”

With a nod, he headed for the back stairs. Trying to fight the discouragement weighing down on her, Audrey moved through the foyer into the dining room.

As she walked through the room toward the kitchen, she noticed some of Will Kent’s campaign materials spread out on a sideboard. Curious, she slowed to take a look, picking up one of the full-color flyers.

He really was quite handsome, and very photogenic, she acknowledged, taking in the face smiling up at her. Probably a good thing for a politician. He had solid, all-American good looks, his jaw square and strong, his teeth straight and blindingly white. The photographer had managed to capture his charisma, and the charm in Will’s smile came across in the picture as well as it did in real life. On a professional level, she had to admire the photographer’s skill.

Audrey started to lower the flyer back to the table, but something made her stop, the image holding her attention. There was something else about him, something about the shape of his face around his eyes…

The eyes themselves were brown. She remembered Marybeth’s were blue, so Will must have gotten his eyes from his father.

Brown eyes. Eyes that were warm and reassuring, full of good humor.

Eyes that were a lot like another pair of eyes she’d found herself studying so intently recently…

Audrey stared, dumbstruck, as recognition hit her.

Her first instinct was to wonder if she was imagining things. She had Richard Bridges on the brain. It was completely plausible that she would start seeing him everywhere.

But as she quickly registered the other facial features Will hadn’t inherited from his mother, all of them very familiar, certainty took hold within her, until there was no denying it.

Will Kent was Richard Bridges’s son.

Most people might not notice, but this was what she did for a living. She looked at faces, examined people’s images. She knew how to recognize a familial resemblance. After all the time she’d spent studying Richard Bridges’s face over the past few days, she could clearly see its influences in Will Kent’s. Will looked like his mother; she’d seen that from the start. But the features that didn’t bear Marybeth’s influences were uncannily Richard Bridges’s.

Will appeared to be in his mid-thirties. Audrey wished she knew exactly when he’d been born. Perhaps roughly nine months after that summer thirty-five years ago? It should be easy enough to find out.

She shook her head in amazement. It seemed so hard to believe. But as she remembered Marybeth’s response to Bridges’s name and to the mention of Julie Ann Foster, it made too much sense not to be true.

Audrey was still trying to absorb the revelation when Marybeth pushed through the swinging door from the kitchen and stepped into the dining room.

She blinked at Audrey in surprise. The smile that had started to automatically form on her lips faded as she took in Audrey’s expression. “Lila, is everything all right?”

At first Audrey could only blink back at her, unsure what she should say, if she could even admit what she’d discovered. But of course, she had to. This was why she and Jason had come to Barrett’s Mill, to uncover Rich Bridges’s secrets, the things he would do anything to keep hidden. Audrey had to figure out what to do about it. But first she had to know if it was true.

She sent a glance behind her. The last thing she wanted was to have this conversation overheard. “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

Marybeth’s frown deepened, and a touch of wariness shone in her eyes. Audrey had a feeling the woman would like to ask what she wanted to talk about. Instead, because of her innkeeper’s politeness, or because she recognized something in Audrey’s expression, she nodded and said, “All right.”

She turned and moved back through the swinging door. Audrey followed close behind.

Marybeth stepped behind the kitchen counter and braced her hands on it, facing Audrey. “What can I do for you?”

Audrey tried to choose her words carefully, knowing just how tough this was going to be. “I need to ask you about your son…and Richard Bridges.”

Marybeth’s brow furrowed in confusion, but Audrey caught the flash of alarm in the other woman’s eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“Is Richard Bridges Will’s father?”

“That’s absurd,” Marybeth scoffed. Audrey might have imagined it, but the woman’s bluster sounded false to her ear.

She made herself go on. “Thirty-five years ago, Richard Bridges spent the summer before he was supposed to go to college here in Barrett’s Mill, until he abruptly left for Europe. There were rumors that he was involved with a local girl at the time.”

“Julie Ann Foster,” Marybeth said, her eyes narrowing, her cheeks going red with a trace of anger Audrey doubted she even knew she’d shown.

“It makes sense,” Audrey agreed. “But just because he was involved with one girl doesn’t mean he wasn’t involved with another. When was Will born?”

“None of your business.”

“Maybe not, but I can find out. I would guess it was about nine months after that summer. Will’s about thirty-four, isn’t he?”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Marybeth, I don’t think I mentioned it, but I’m a photographer. Family portraits, school photos, that sort of thing. I look at people’s faces every day, and what I finally saw when I really looked at Will’s was a resemblance to Richard Bridges. I think if anyone puts two pictures of them side-by-side, others will see it, too, and they’ll start wondering. Then they’ll start looking into Will’s family history—your past—to see if there’s an explanation. What do you think they’ll find?”

“Nothing,” Marybeth whispered. “They won’t find anything.”

“Are you sure about that?” Audrey asked gently, though Marybeth’s expression said she was anything but.

Marybeth swallowed hard. “You’re not here on your honeymoon, are you?” she asked faintly.

“No,” Audrey admitted. “And my name isn’t Lila Randall. It’s Audrey Ellison. My uncle was a man named Hal Talmadge. I don’t know if you’ve heard of him, but he was here in Barrett’s Mill last year.”

It took a moment before Marybeth slowly nodded. “I remember. He was talking to people, asking questions.”

“Did he talk to you at all?”

“No,” Marybeth said, practically a whisper.

So, in all likelihood, Hal hadn’t found out about this. It made sense. The assassin hadn’t come after Marybeth, so she probably wasn’t mentioned in the book.

“He was a journalist working on a book about Richard Bridges, particularly his early years. That’s why he was here. He was doing research for the book. From the way he talked about it, he thought he’d found out something about Richard Bridges, a secret or scandal he was going to reveal in the book. He was murdered a few days ago, and someone has been trying to kill me and the man pretending to be my husband ever since. We’re pretty sure Richard Bridges is responsible. We think he’s trying to silence anyone Hal might have told what he learned.”

Audrey watched the woman’s reaction. Her eyes widened, but she displayed none of the shock Audrey might have expected. “You don’t seem surprised.”

Marybeth exhaled sharply, her lips twisting with bitterness. “Nothing Rich Bridges does could surprise me anymore.”

“So you do know him,” Audrey said carefully. “Or at least you did. I’m guessing thirty-five years ago?”

After a moment, Marybeth nodded slowly. “Yes,” she said, barely more than a whisper.

“And the two of you became involved?”

Another nod. “I met him for the first time that summer. He never really was around the local kids much. We knew who he was, but he usually stuck to the farm when he was in town over the summer. I always thought he was just some stuck-up rich kid. But then I met him in town one day. It was the kind of thing you see in movies, when two people meet and just click. I looked at him and it didn’t matter who he was or how ridiculous it was, I thought, this is the boy I’m going to marry. I’m sure that sounds like I was trying to hook a rich husband, but it wasn’t like that. There was just something about him, and I knew he was the one.

“We got to talking. He wasn’t anything like I’d thought he would be. He was…sweet and shy. His mother was dead and he was being raised by his father, like I was, and neither of our fathers had much use for us. After that first meeting, it wasn’t long until we were spending every possible moment with each other. Dick wasn’t around much that summer, but Rich said if anyone told him about the two of us, he wouldn’t like it. So we had to sneak around. I didn’t care. I just wanted to be with him.”

“Then you found out you were pregnant?”

“I was scared, but I told Rich right away. He seemed so happy. He—” She swallowed hard. “He asked me to marry him right then and there. He said he wanted us to be a family.” She winced as though the memory was painful. “Of course I said yes. I hadn’t wanted it to happen like that, but it was basically what I’d dreamed of from the moment I met him.”

“Then what happened?” Audrey asked.

“Dick Bridges was coming home that night. Rich was going to tell him about me, about the baby, that he was going to marry me. I offered to go with him, to be there while he did it. He said it would be better if he did it by himself, that Dick wasn’t going to be happy and he didn’t want to subject me to that, but he’d come see me as soon as it was done. I waited all night for him to come. He never did.

“Finally, I went out to the farm. The housekeeper told me Rich had left, gone to Europe. She didn’t have any way to reach him and didn’t expect him to be back anytime soon. I didn’t want to believe it. He wouldn’t have just left like that. I kept waiting for him to get in touch with me. He would call, he would write. I
knew
it. But he didn’t. In the meantime, all I could think about was how I was going to be a single mother at eighteen, trying to raise a baby on my own, what it would be like for the baby to grow up knowing his father hadn’t wanted him.

“I had a friend, Adam Kent. He found me crying one day, and I told him I was pregnant and the baby’s father was gone and I didn’t know what to do. He didn’t ask any questions. He just asked me to marry him. He was barely out of high school himself, but that was the kind of man he was. I didn’t think that was fair to him, but he said it would be his honor. I never even knew he thought of me that way before then. I didn’t know what else to do. So I said yes. My father wasn’t too happy about it, but he was even less happy with the idea of his unmarried eighteen-year-old daughter having a baby. Less than a week later, Adam and I were married.”