Echoes (46 page)

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Authors: Erin Quinn

BOOK: Echoes
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Still holding her hand, he gazed at her with an expression of gratitude, as if she had saved him from death and not the other way around. When the nurses finally made him leave, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and said, "I'll never lose you again."

His words were an oath. She knew.

Later she learned that Grant had been at her side through all the dark hours. He'd had to be wrestled away to have his own wounds treated. In more ways than could be counted, he'd saved her life.

The entire town of
Mountain Bend was stunned to learn that their charming elementary school principal and efficient sheriff both harbored darker sides. Grant and Tess, of course, already knew. Faced with multiple murder charges, Smith's lawyer advised him to plea bargain and Smith came clean about the sequence of events that led up to his attempted murder of Tess. With Craig dead, there was no one to dispute his story. At the time Smith met him, Craig's compulsive gambling had put him in debt to several unscrupulous lenders—men that would have killed him had he not been able to pay up. In short, Craig was a desperate man.

According to Smith, for years Craig had managed to keep his gambling problem concealed and debts under control by stealing from his father, but when Grant's money ran out and the checks he sent stopped arriving, Craig was left to find a new source to supplement his paltry income. Tori, in her efforts to reconcile the Weston Ranch's finances, had discovered that the money Grant sent never made it to the bank. When she revealed this to Frank Weston, he'd confronted his son and all hell broke loose. By Smith's account, Craig claimed the murder of his father was accidental, but Tori's untimely return to the Weston Ranch had made her an unwanted witness who Craig was forced to kill. He'd stashed her body in
Lydia's huge freezer until he'd felt the time was right to plant the body behind Grant's shed.

Perhaps the most tragic victim of it all was Lydia Hughes. Tess learned that it was
Lydia who had tried to warn her away from Mountain Bend. Lydia who had burned the pictures and mutilated Caitlin's stuffed kitty in an effort to scare Tess back to New York. When Craig found out, he'd killed her too.

Smith maintained that he was no more than an accessory to the crimes. He'd cleaned up the messes or sabotaged the crime scenes, but he had no hand in the murders. Deputy Ochoa explained to Grant and Tess how Smith's years in law enforcement had made him a pro at setting up a crime scene—but he was a little too smart for his own good and he'd taken for granted that the local yokels would be inept. He was wrong.

Tess and Grant didn't talk much about what had happened. They'd both lost loved ones and it was painful to think of it. But Tess knew that they would have to bring it out in the open if they ever hoped to heal. Grant began one night by telling her about the church fire that had taken his mother. In the halting tones of confession, Grant told her that it was Craig who'd been caught doing drugs the morning of the church fire. Craig was always difficult and as he grew older, his behavior became more extreme and violent. Unable to control their aggressive son, Grant's parents had decided to seek intervention in the form of a militaristic camp for troubled boys. When he learned of their plans, Craig had gone crazy with fury, threatening them all in his rage.

"I remember the week before the fire," Grant told Tess, "
Lydia had come to me for help. She was beat up. I think Craig raped her, but she denied it. She was pregnant though, and Craig refused responsibility. I promised to help her. She wanted me to take her into Sacramento to see a doctor."

As it turned out, she didn't need the appointment she'd scheduled. The day before Grant was to take her, she'd gone to church to pray for guidance.

It was a miracle Lydia had survived the fire when so many others hadn't. Her brush with death had conveniently terminated her pregnancy—or perhaps it was no coincidence. Craig came to see her in the hospital, and she held his hand and smiled into his face. Grant always suspected that she'd known who started it. He'd had his own suspicions, but no charges were ever brought forward. A boy was seen running through the church grounds just prior to the fire and old Sheriff Turner had questioned all the parents in town before calling it a tragic accident and closing the case. Grant had been so desperate to believe it was just an accident, that he'd let himself be convinced. Craig went off to his tough love camp and returned a changed man.

But when Grant looked at him, he saw fire. He left for
Hollywood on the next bus out. Years followed in which he'd drowned the memories in alcoholism, drug abuse and escape.

After Grant had cleaned up his act and given up the drinking and drugs for several years, he'd returned to Mountain Bend to mend fences and reclaim his life. But during the time apart his father had become a stranger and his brother had grown to hate him. Perhaps Craig had come to look upon Grant as a jailer, a keeper of his secrets. Who knew what drove the sicknesses in his mind? Tess would never know the motivation for Tori's relationship with Grant's father. She could only hope that it was one of love. Despite her faults, Tori deserved to be loved.

Tess shared Grant's pain as she prepared for her sister's funeral. Caitlin was already in counseling and Tess would be spending time on the couch as well, though she would keep her focus on the present traumas and not venture to the past. Real or not, she knew the tale would sound crazy and she didn't want to end up in the same place as her mother. Besides, the past was over now. She knew it.

Tess hadn't decided whether or not to tell Grant about the visions, about the terrifying replay of history. Each day that passed without revisiting it gave the whole experience a dream-like feel. Had it really happened?

 

* * *

 

Six months later, Grant woke her up with a cup of coffee and the morning paper. She'd moved to the ranch as soon as she was able to finalize the sale on her house in
New York and quit her job. She said a tearful goodbye to Sara and extracted a promise to keep in touch, and then she'd left behind her life there with amazing ease. Everything she wanted waited for her in California. It always had.

Caitlin was happy here. As the weeks passed, she began to lose that haunted look in her eyes and put on weight. Grant had given her a puppy
and
a kitten the day she and Tess had moved in. She'd named the kitten Purcy and the puppy, of course, Lady. Tess and Grant got married the following weekend, though in Tess's heart, they had been joined a lifetime ago.

"Check the headline," Grant said, pointing to the paper as he crawled into bed beside her. Tess scooted over so she could rest her head on his shoulder and lifted the newspaper.

"Winter Haven Scandal Exposed," the Piney River headlines shouted. She quickly skimmed the article and then read it in earnest. Charges had been brought against a Chicago businessman who had allegedly leaked confidential information to potential investors about the financial proceedings of the prospective resort called Winter Haven. According to the article, the privileged information had been given to several high powered executives who purchased properties to the north and east of the site. Mountain Bend's sheriff, recently discharged from duty pending criminal legal proceedings, learned of the resort when he was still part of the Chicago PD. According to sources, Smith had pulled over the Chicago property magnate on suspicions of DUI and then let him go. Later Smith was accused of lying about the details of the violation and the rescinding of the ticket he'd begun to issue. Smith had resigned before a formal investigation was launched and managed to secure the position of Mountain Bend's sheriff without ever disclosing the details of why he'd left Chicago.

Another piece to the puzzle fell into place.

"Did you read the last part? The whole project has been dumped. Looks like Winter Haven is looking for a new location."

"I'm glad. I'd hate to see Mountain Bend overrun with tourists. I like it the way it is."

After spending the morning outside with Grant repairing the shabby fence and giving it a coat of white paint that sparkled in the sun, Tess made them lunch. They ate on the porch in peaceful companionship, admiring their handiwork and thinking of all the things to come. Tess had put Tori's money into a trust fund for Caitlin's future, but with the money she made from her home in New York and other investments, she and Grant were able to make some serious changes to the ranch house. A remodel of the kitchen had been first on the list.

She glanced at him, still a little surprised when she realized that this man who had made women worldwide fall in love with just a smile, was her husband.

Feeling her gaze, he looked at her. "I love you."

She'd never grow tired of hearing it. "Forever," she murmured back.

As she settled down that evening, Tess flipped through the mail on her way to her favorite chair. Grant was upstairs in the shower. Caitlin was outside playing with Lady. At the bottom of the bundle of bills and junk mail was a small package addressed to Tess Weston. Smiling at the name, she opened the package. The brown wrapping came away easily. Inside was a book, printed poorly and bound worse. It had taken her months to find it, but somehow she'd known it existed.

"One Woman's Journey" a memoir by Mrs. Imogene Tate.

The original diary had been found by her great, great grandchildren in 1982. Recognizing it as both a historical account of an incredible journey and a record of their own heritage, Mrs. Imogene's heirs had the diary typeset and copied for the family.

Mrs. Imogene had no children when Molly had known her, but late in life, the good Lord must have seen it fit to provide her with the child she so longed for. Her son had married and given her many grandchildren. She'd died the matriarch of a large, extended family living outside of
Sacramento where she and Mr. Tate had finally settled. Mr. Tate had shown a flair for growing things and Mrs. Imogene for growing them right. Their orange groves still produced the sweetest of oranges.

The surviving relatives had thought it strange when Tess contacted them and asked if there was a diary, delighted when she'd told them the passages might help solve the mystery of what had happened to the Westons. They remembered the mention of the Weston family, Miss Molly and their tragedy.

Tess thumbed through the pages, reading Mrs. Imogene's daily entries, the miles covered, the trials of bad water and sickness. She could hear the woman's voice in her head, recall completely the scent of honey lemon drops that was as much a part of her as her ability to quote Bible verse. A wave of nostalgia swamped her as she read, taking her back to days that she should not remember, but did.

Mrs. Imogene wrote about the shock and loss following the Indian attack. There'd been retaliation and ugly warfare on the trail afterwards. But neither young Arlie Weston nor Miss Molly Marshall had ever been found. Though there'd been talk amongst the emigrants about the race and suspicions that somehow Brodie Weston had caused the horrifying events that followed, nothing was ever proven. And when Brodie had returned to camp, bleeding and weak after nearly being murdered by the Indians who'd set upon him while he tried to rescue Miss Molly, the suspicions were hushed. They all felt he was lucky to have escaped with his life and for the sake of Adam, the matter was dropped.

"
Poor Mr. Weston,
" Mrs. Imogene wrote. "
He never stopped looking for his son and Miss Molly.
"

Tess gripped the book in white-knuckled hands.

An envelope was stuck in between the pages in the back. Tess pulled it out. A neat hand had written, "Enclosed are copies of the original newspaper clippings we found in Grandma Imogene's diary. They mention the Weston family, so we thought they might help you in your research."

The first was dated September 1852. There was a picture of a man and though time had worn much of it away, Tess recognized Brodie Weston. He was dressed in a top hat and tails, smirking at the camera as he escorted two glittering women into a red-carpeted establishment. Beneath the picture were the words, "Francis Ambrose Weston strikes it rich!" Tess quickly scanned the clipping before going back to read it again. She could hardly believe what it said. Brodie had struck gold, and quite a lot of it. Overnight he'd become a millionaire. There was no mention of Adam.

Poor Mr. Weston, he never stopped looking for his son and Miss Molly.

The second clipping was dated two years later. This one had a picture on it as well. Tess's eyes widened as she made out the grainy images. Brodie again, but this time there was no top hat, no tails, no women and definitely no smirk. He was laid in a coffin, hands crossed over his chest. The caption read, "Gold Thief hanged for Stealing."

The second article was as incredible as the first, yet there was a sense of justice to this one. Brodie had not struck gold after all—he'd lied, cheated, stolen and murdered for it. Tess stared at the mask of death on Brodie's face. He'd destroyed so many lives...death seemed too kind. Carefully she folded the pages and put them back in the envelope.

She returned her attention to the diary. The final pages had an entry dated April 1880—twenty-six years later. Mrs. Imogene must have been near seventy by then. As Tess read the words, she could well imagine the waver in her voice and picture Mrs. Imogene white haired and wrinkled, but still stubborn and strong.

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