Gilt (26 page)

It wasn't until I saw his look that I realized he and I weren't angry at each other anymore. When did that happen? "How was your trip?" I asked Amy. "Are you hungry? I can make something."

Dan put an arm around me. "We're going to the dance, remember?" He smiled at Jack, his voice full of laughter. "Oh, wait. She doesn't know. She slept through it. Sleeping Beauty here was snoozing on the porch when her mom and I talked. Penny dropped by to get a book and she mentioned the dance again. She has card club tonight or something but she said she might stop by after that wraps up. There's a barbeque and we can get something to eat there."

"Wow. I was more tired than I thought." I did, indeed, feel like Sleeping Beauty, or maybe it was Rip Van Winkle, who fell asleep only to wake and find the world changed. Jack and Amy were talking to each other, Dan and I were talking to each other, and life was--Wait a minute. "What else did you and Penny talk about?"

He grinned. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

"Knowing Penny, it might be anything." Amy turned to regard the porch. "Nothing's changed. This place is frozen in time, I think." Her gaze went to Jack, who stood near the doorway as though poised to flee.

I started edging away. "I'm sure you two want to get caught up. There's no rush to go to the dance. We can get there any time."

"It's okay," Amy said, her eyes still on Jack. "I thought about what I wanted to say from the minute Gen told me you were here, Jack. You don't know how often I wanted to call you, to talk about what happened."

I took a baby step toward the porch door. Dan, his arm still around me, went with me. "We'll come back later," he said.

I don't think Amy or Jack heard. They were so focused on each other I suspect the world could have exploded and they would barely note the debris. Dan and I beat a retreat through the porch door as Amy said, "You knew Mark as a cocaine addict. I knew him as a mischievous, rambunctious child. We were both right. And we were both wrong."

I hesitated outside the porch. This was a side of the old story that I didn't know. Did John know his nephew was a coke addict? If he did know, he never told me.

"He was high on drugs that night," Amy continued. "You didn't know it was Mark. If you recognized him, you might have hesitated and you would be dead now, not him." She kept her eyes pinned on Tinsley's face as he crossed the porch to stand in front of her. "Johnny Barker and I talked about it."

"You did?" I couldn't see Tinsley's face but he sounded hopeful and maybe afraid. "I didn't know you stayed in touch with him."

"He was a good friend to both of us. When his wife died, I called him. He told me what happened to you, how Mark and that other boy were used to ruin your career. How you were transferred and demoted. That wasn't fair, Jack."

"None of it was fair," Jack said, his voice almost as hushed as hers. "I got caught between two gang leaders. They used me to set up Nesbitt's son and Mark got tangled up in it, too. I didn't want to hurt him. If I could have, I would have--"

"No more Coulda, woulda, shoulda. Please." Amy smiled tremulously as a tear inched along her cheek. "It happened, Jack. I wish it hadn't, and you wish it hadn't, but it did. I want to move on. I want to put the guilt behind me."

Her harsh, woebegone voice made me wince because it so precisely echoed what I had been feeling for so long.

"You have no reason to feel guilty," Jack said softly, taking her hand in his. "I fired the shot that killed him."

"But I raised him. I didn't put my foot down when he went with those friends of his, those wild kids who got him hooked up with drugs way back in high school. He was so upset about his father dying that I let him go. I didn't realize until it was too late." Amy drew in a long, shuddering breath. "Mark needed a way to handle the pain and he turned to drugs. He should have turned to me."

"Amy." Jack sighed her name and enfolded her in his arms, pulling her tightly against his him.

I inched backward, into the drive, and Dan followed. We didn't speak until we reached the steps leading into the kitchen, at the side of the house. "I don't understand," I said. "What did she mean about two boys dying that night? What was that about Jack being used?"

Dan paused, his hand on the black metal stair rail. "Jack's bullet killed Mark and he also wounded another man, who later died. It was Solomon Nesbitt's youngest son. Remember Nesbitt? That's the man who Jack mentioned, the one who runs the Wickeds. The FBI found out that Nesbitt was fighting with another leader in the Wickeds for control of the gang. Jack figures he was used to kill the son in order to hurt Nesbitt as well as to derail his own career. It almost worked. Jack redeemed himself last year in Kansas when he killed Nesbitt's oldest son, but it almost got him killed, too." He started up the steps then he turned to regard me. "I'm sorry. You don't owe me anything. If you want to keep secrets, it's your business, not mine."

"You've kept secrets, too, haven't you?" I asked.

He tilted his head. "What's that mean?"

"You knew your wife was sleeping with Michael. Why did you tell me you didn't know where she worked?"

His hand tightened on the metal knob. "I had my reasons."

All of my renewed good humor vanished. "I'm sure you did. It's a pity one of them was because you didn't trust me." I took the steps two at a time and jerked open the door to the kitchen. It slammed against the siding of the house.

"Genny."

"What?"

He started to speak but instead shook his head. "You're right. I'm sorry I didn't trust you."

"Do you trust me now?"

He didn't answer. "That's what I thought." I pushed past him and went inside, not sure if I was angry or sad or an odd combination of both. By the time I got to my guest room upstairs, I also felt relieved.

"No sex tonight," I muttered as I leaned on the low dresser, my heart pounding so hard I felt nauseous. "Oh, well. I don't need it. I'm happy the way things are. I don't want that complication. It's all okay." I raised my head and looked into the mirror attached to the dresser.

John stood behind me.

Chapter 15

I whirled, my face getting hot. "Amy's here," I said. "Downstairs. She and Jack Tinsley are going to make up, I think." I blurted anything I could think of to cover my embarrassment.

"I'm glad Jack is here. I liked him. I think he truly loved Amy. I was sorry when they broke up. She deserves happiness in her life." John stood near the window, the white curtain stirring in the breeze, a breeze that brought a faint aroma of charred smoke to me where I stood near the dresser.

"Did you hear about Paul's daughter? Someone took her. He's going crazy with fear." I sank onto the double bed, which sagged beneath my weight. I grimaced. A sore back was probably going to be in my future.

"Why did someone take his daughter? That makes no sense."

"That's what Dan said, too."

John smiled wryly. "Great minds think alike. We have that in common, too."

"What do you mean?" I paced to the dresser and back, not anxious to sit and watch him watch me.

"He loves you. I love you."

His words stopped me in my tracks. "He doesn't love me. He barely knows me."

"Let's say he would love you if you give him a chance." John glided toward me, his sweat-streaked face glimmering in the fading afternoon sunlight. I'm not sure if it was a trick of the light or the fact he was a ghost, but the effect was to make him blink in and out as he moved. He stopped in front of me. "I know you loved me as much as you were able. If you love someone else now, that's okay."

I stifled a groan. Trust John to be magnanimous. Here I was, wallowing in guilt because I feared I caused his death and there he was, forgiving me for having lustful thoughts about another man. "I didn't deserve you, John."

He grinned and his arms went around me. For an instant, I was cold as the slick-soot touch of his turnout coat pressed against my face. There was no sensation of pressure, only a brief touch of that cool, rubbery fabric. "Deserve has nothing to do with it, Gem."

I closed my eyes, once again swamped by that feeling of
what would have happened
If
. What would have happened if I didn't argue with him? Would he have died that night? I raised my head to ask him.

He was gone. "Damn it, John. Don't do that." I wiped at my tears.

"I feel him, too."

I whirled, almost overbalancing as I banged my hip against the wooden newel of the bed's footboard. Amy stood in my doorway, her eyes on the spot where John had been a minute earlier. "You do?" I asked.

She nodded, coming into the room. "I feel like he's here, with us. I think he would be glad to know that Jack and I are talking again."

I pulled her into a hug. "I know he'd feel that way. He would want you to be happy. And he always thought Jack was a good man, someone who would be good for you."

Amy nodded, her face rubbing against my hair. "I needed to talk to Jack. I hate that John gave me the chance, but I'm glad he did." She pulled away from me, her dark gray eyes, so like John's, searching my face. "What about you?"

"What about me?" I released her and manhandled my small roller bag up on the cedar chest that sat at the foot of the bed.

"I saw the way Dan Steele looks at you. There's romance in your future."

"Maybe, maybe not." I flipped open my suitcase and rummaged inside, pulling out my cosmetic bag. "Time will tell, I guess."

She started to speak, stopped then said in a rush, "Don't wait, Genny. Time is a precious commodity. Don't put off love because it might not be convenient."

"Love? Please, I barely know the guy." I went to the dresser and dumped my makeup tubes and jars onto the surface. "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. Let's go the dance, okay?" I glanced in the mirror and saw her exasperated expression. "Okay?"

She sighed. "Sure. Let me freshen up. Jack was going to town to the talk to the police chief, so I'll ride with you and your guy."

"Not my guy," I said, but I spoke to empty air. Amy was gone. I heard her in the hall, opening the door to her bedroom. "Why is everyone so anxious to get me paired up?" I grumbled as I dabbed on green eye shadow to match my pale green polo shirt.

Thankfully, neither ghost nor human answered.

*****

"I feel guilty that I didn't get to the hospital today to see Portia," Amy commented from the front seat next to me as I drove us into town. She had changed into a lightweight dark denim skirt and white sandals that showed off her long, tanned legs. Dan sat in the back of my SUV, staring thoughtfully through the window at the farm fields and cattle who stared back at us from behind fences on the highway that led into Tangle Butte.

"From what Genny's mother said, your aunt will probably be released tomorrow and coming home." Dan's face flickered in and out of shadows cast from the trees lining the road.

"What did your buddy J.T. McCord have to say about it?" I peered in the rear view mirror. I caught Amy's questioning glance. "McCord is the new police chief."

"McCord? Didn't he date Molly Lawford back in high school?"

"They're married now," I said, driving over the bridge and slowing as we entered the city limits. Sawhorses blocked the street at the side of the courthouse, forcing traffic to take a left turn and drive past the Law Enforcement Center.

"That's a surprise. He jilted her, didn't he?" Amy asked. "He married what's-her-name, that girl whose father ran the construction company. It was the talk of the town when he married her. They must have gotten divorced."

I took a left turn and headed for the municipal parking lot. "I'm sure my mother knows the entire story. Ask her." I jockeyed the car through the crowded lot, finally nabbing a spot in the fifth and last row at the far end.

"I meant to ask you about Aunt Portia's finances," Amy said to Dan as we crossed the street and headed toward the courthouse square, two blocks away. "Did you find anything unusual? Is there anything to show why someone would harm her?"

Good heavens, was I going completely crazy or what? I had forgotten all about that and Paul Denton's problems and about everything else as I focused on my love life, or lack thereof. "Yeah," I said. "What about the financial stuff and Paul? What did he say?"

"His daughter was taken on her way home from work last night. He got a call telling him that if he called the police, she would disappear completely." Dan moved so he was next to me, on the outer edge of the sidewalk nearest the street. I noticed how his eyes kept darting here and there as though assessing the people ambling toward the sound of the music blaring from town. Did he really think there was danger here or was that simply a habit?

"That's sort of open-ended," Amy said. "Don't kidnappers usually give a deadline?"

"Yeah." Dan paused to let a small child run past us, careful to keep his cane out of the way. "The kidnappers told Jack that they would get in touch with him here. He thinks this week is critical to whatever they're planning and I tend to agree with him. The whole timing of the investigation, Bennington coming here, your aunt's illness...everything seems to be coming together right here, right now."