Redemption (36 page)

“And the baby? What happened to her?”

“Oh, Delores didn’t care if we kept her.” She said the words as if it were a rag doll they were discussing. “Roy thought—he thought he was strong enough to keep the Devil from coming near that child.”

Matt had a sick feeling. “And did he? Keep the devil away from…Mary Claire?”

“Well, if you know her, you must know! Has she come to you for help? Is that it?” She laughed. “Let me tell you, Roy’s done nearly everything he could to rinse the stain off that black soul. I never saw a child so determined to resist salvation.”

“What…methods exactly did the reverend employ?”

She gave him a strange look. “I thought you said you were a healer too. Doing the Lord’s work, like Roy.”

Matt blinked. “I could never be like your husband, I’m afraid. His reputation precedes him.”

She smiled. “Yes, it does, but he doesn’t do it for the glory, you know. No, his place in Heaven is waiting, and he’s planning to bring as many lost souls with him as he can.”

Kicking and screaming, Matt added to himself. But he still hadn’t found out everything he wanted to know. “I take it Mary Claire was resistant to the idea? Of salvation at the hands of your husband.”

“Well, that’s a way of putting it,” she said. “Many’s the time Roy would have to take the switch to her backside, just to get her into the doors of the church. Now you tell me…” She pointed a finger at him, as if sure of his agreement. “What kind of creature likes her sins so much she hangs on to them tight, with both hands? Even with the pure blood of Jesus just waiting to wash away her sins?”

“You’re talking about a child. A child you raised.”

Deborah didn’t seem to hear him. “And after her mother went and gave her life to that old Devil, you’d think he’d have been satisfied. But no, he had to get his claws into Mary Claire. We tried—Lord knows, we tried—but sometimes, the Devil just won’t let go. Especially when it’s one of his own to begin with.”

Matt felt like he had been dumped into the middle of a horror flick and he didn’t know his lines. “Surely you’re exaggerating. She was just a little girl.”

A hard look came into her eyes. “Don’t let her fool you. She was as much a harlot as her mother. Look what happened to her. Only difference is, she got away with what she did. God hasn’t got around to punishing her for her sins yet.”

Matt wanted to gag, but he forced himself to finish the charade. “What about what happened in Oklahoma? After…after her return from California?”

She gave him a surprised look. “You know about that?”

“Yes.” Faking a flash of insight, he added, “It was Roy, wasn’t it? He was trying to…punish her.”

“Why yes, for the Lord of course. But—”A look of pain came over her face. “The Devil interfered. He was just too strong that time. To think, my very own mother—she invited the Devil right into her heart. Although, Momma was never too strong to begin with, not like me.”

“So your husband never got around to punishing Claire for the sins she committed…in California.”

“I told you, he was interrupted.” Before Matt could ask how, she continued. “But Roy will get around to it, never you fear,” she told him. “He always does such a good job for the Lord. Don’t you think?”

This time, Matt didn’t bother to hide his disgust. “Where did you say your husband was?”

Deborah frowned. “After that reporter stopped by yesterday, he set off for the bus station. A Greyhound stops right here in town.”

The heat in the house was stifling, but suddenly Matt felt chilled to his bones. “Where was he going?”

“I told you—to do the Lord’s work.”

Matt resisted the urge to shake her. “Where?”

“I think he said Philadelphia,” she told him, but Matt was already heading out the door.

Chapter Twenty-Six

M
ATT
T
RIED
T
O
C
ALL
C
LAIRE’S
O
FFICE
on the way to the Houston airport, but she wasn’t in. Her secretary told him she was touring the Cherry Hill store, meeting with the store managers there. She wasn’t expected to return to her office that afternoon. He debated what to do. He didn’t want to scare the wits out of her, but he wanted to keep her safe. She had canceled the bodyguard that Connor had hired before Tripper arrived, not wanting to alarm him.

He contacted the service that had provided security during filming in Philadelphia. It would be an hour before they could position their personnel at Kaslow’s and at her house in West Chester.

He hoped that would be soon enough. Once he arrived, he’d stick to her side like adhesive until Roy Porter was stopped.

Matt’s pilot was waiting at the airport, and within minutes of arriving, he was on board. Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait for clearance and were in the air before the afternoon traffic had filled the freeways below.

Matt phoned the Philadelphia police once he was out of Houston airspace. As he had suspected, though, there was little they could do without evidence of a crime. Even if they could find Roy Porter, they could only question the man. They did agree, however, to send an officer to the bus station to look for him.

He called Claire, but her cell went straight to voice mail. She would probably go straight home from Cherry Hill. By then the security team would be in place.

Turbulence rocked the jet, but Matt didn’t notice. He leaned back and closed his eyes. Images of Claire, battered and bruised, filled his mind.

If sheer rage could power the aircraft, they’d slice through the clouds and land in record time—in time, he hoped, for him to get to Claire before Roy Porter did.

Claire glanced at the clock at the entrance to the building, then made her way toward the elevators. Her tour of the Cherry Hill store had gone well. Sales were still lagging, but she was convinced it was a matter of demographics, not lack of effort from the staff. She would have marketing work more closely with their buyers to ensure that the tastes of suburban shoppers were considered.

She just needed to stop by her office and pick up a couple of folders she’d left in her desk. Estelle was staying with Tripper until she returned. She hurried into the elevator, wishing Joan were back from maternity leave. Her temp had left the door to her office unlocked yesterday when she left.

She was worried about Matt. She’d checked her phone, but the battery had died during her outing today. He had promised to phone her as soon as he was out of the prison. Maybe he’d phoned and the temp had forgotten to give her the message. Or more likely, Matt hadn’t left a message. During the last couple of weeks, he had been following her wishes and not drawing attention to their relationship.

If what they had could be defined as a relationship. Claire was on shaky ground there. She missed him. During the day, she found herself thinking about him, longing to hear his voice on the phone. And at night, she longed for his touch—an ache she had never felt before.

But sexual desire wasn’t enough on which to build a lasting relationship. There had to be trust, commitment…love.

The elevator stopped at the seventh floor, and she got off, hurrying down the hall to her office.

Did she love Matt? She honestly didn’t know. He thought he loved her. But magazines were full of stories of celebrities who fell in and out of love like teenagers. She couldn’t believe that Matt’s feelings weren’t based simply on convenience, that he was more enamored by the fact that she was his son’s mother.

Even she had to admit, it would certainly be convenient to fall in love with her son’s father. She knew Tripper wanted more than anything for his parents to be together. It wasn’t fair to deny him time with his newfound father. He and Matt had grown close during the two weeks in Montana. Matt had invited him to spend a month there this summer, before he began shooting on location in July.

She frowned as she entered her office. As she had suspected, the door had been left unlocked. She made a mental note to ask security to double check it from now on.

Quickly she found what she needed, then looked through the telephone log. Yes, Matt had called, she noticed, relieved. Twice. But predictably, he had declined to leave a message.

Then she noticed the call from the Philadelphia police. She frowned and picked up the phone to return the call.

Before the police could answer the phone, Claire heard footsteps outside her office. Perhaps it was Matt, she thought, knowing everyone else had left for the day. He had probably flown in to surprise her and to finish the discussion they had barely begun the day he dropped Tripper off. She replaced the phone, and with a hopeful smile on her face, she looked toward the doorway.

But the face that appeared wasn’t Matt’s.

It was the face from her nightmares.

A gasp escaped her throat as Roy Porter walked in. He was older now, but she’d never forget that face, that straw-colored hair, those washed-out eyes filled with righteous indignation.

He glanced derisively around her office. “The Devil rewards his own, doesn’t he?” His harsh laughter was an echo from her childhood, a fanfare of fear.

Though her bones wanted to curl protectively, she forced herself to sit motionless in the chair. She was in no danger, she told herself—security was only a phone call away. With trembling fingers she picked up the phone…and then dropped it onto the cradle with a crash as Roy withdrew a gun from his jacket.

Terror clutched at her throat. She placed her shaking hands palms down on the desk. Forcing her gaze off the dull-gray metal, she met his eyes. They were feverish and wild, brimming with hate. Roy had obviously stepped over the edge since she had seen him last.

“I see you’ve come prepared,” she said, her voice somehow calm, despite the memories assaulting her…memories she’d repressed for so long.

“Of course, even though that she-devil isn’t around to protect her cub. Whatever happened to the old woman, anyway? I assume she’s resting comfortably—in Hell!” He chuckled at his own joke.

Claire barely heard him. Her mind was busy sorting the possibilities for escape. The building was full of innocent people who might inadvertently stand in his way. She couldn’t let him leave the office.

A new dread slid through her consciousness. Thank God he had come here, not her home, where Tripper…

The gray pistol in Roy’s hand wavered, while bits of memory came oozing back to Claire.

Suddenly she remembered another gun. A prop—but then not a prop gun after all. Pointing at her, at Matt…and at Hayley James. Then there was blood everywhere, blood smattered on her hands like scarlet finger paint…

She blinked, pushing the thoughts away. Right now she had to figure out a way to escape.

She had no weapon with which to defend herself, and the huge office hadn’t come equipped with an escape hatch. But negotiating her way around opposition…she had done that before. Maybe she could stand a chance—if fear didn’t paralyze her first.

She licked her lips, her throat dry, and forced herself to speak. “It must have been a long ride over here. Why don’t I get you something to drink?” She nodded toward the bar in the corner.

He laughed, low in his throat. “Always were good at temptation, weren’t you?” He mocked: “‘Here, Daddy—I made you a glass of tea.’ Like I didn’t see through your wiles.”

Claire swallowed the bile that had crept into her mouth and forced a thin smile. “Well, I’m fresh out of wiles now. And probably iced tea as well. Maybe I could call for something?” It was worth a shot—

He lifted the gun an inch higher. “The only thing you’re going to call for is mercy.” He laughed. “But not even your false idols can save you now. You think I don’t know about your depravity, don’t you? You think you can hide—just like always.”

Another memory—in a closet, darkness swirling around her, hiding from Roy Porter. Claire shook her head, dispelling the images. She had to be in control this time, with her life on the line…
Tripper’s life
…“No, I never could hide from you, could I? I always knew you’d find me—sooner or later.”

Even as she spoke, her mind raced, searching for a way out. She could seek cover under the desk, but she rejected the thought before it formed completely. She had to get the gun from him, incapacitate him somehow…but for now, she had to keep him talking.

“Your work—you must have been very busy these last few years.”

“Of course. Sin doesn’t stop for a sandwich, you know.” Pleased with his quip, he glanced around, his eyes coming to rest on the frame on her desk. Claire sucked in a breath as he reached for Tripper’s photo. The thought of those hands anywhere near her son sent a chill racing down her spine.

Oh God
, what if he went for Tripper—after he finished with her? What would stop him from walking out of her office and going to her home? Would anyone hear the gunshot and try to stop him?

From over the photo, Roy’s cold gaze narrowed. “I should have known you’d follow in her footsteps. You always were just like her.” He waved the frame in the air as if it were a Bible from his pulpit. “She lay down with the Devil too, and look where it got her. She’s living it up in hell now, ain’t she?”