The Gift (20 page)

“We only have until tomorrow afternoon, so let’s get cracking,” Ty suggested. Even though proving his wife’s death had been the goal, he still wasn’t comfortable with the concept, because he didn’t have real
proof.
It wasn’t as if he could tell anyone or put the gossips in their place.

He hadn’t entered the attic since that first day he and Beth had come up here together. The children came up occasionally, but only with Pearl’s permission, and for a specific purpose. So Pearl was the only person who should have had access to the room in the last few days.

Ty opened the closed door at the top of the narrow staircase and immediately knew someone had been there. Papers were scattered everywhere, drawers were pulled completely out of the files and upended.

“Holy shit,” he said.

“Someone beat us here,” Beth said from behind him.

“Looking for the diary?” Sam asked as they all emerged into the ransacked room.

Ty shook his head. “I don’t think anyone else knew she kept one.”

“Looking for
anything
I might find that could incriminate him or her,” Beth said, nodding matter-of-factly. “We made it common knowledge that I intended to go through Lorilee’s files up here.” She held her hands out to indicate the room. “And now we have this, on top of two attempts on my life.”

Ty swallowed hard. “This is getting ugly.”

“Tell me about it.” Beth’s haunted expression gave way to something new. Fierce determination. “I’ve had it with this, Ty. We’re going to catch this killer.”

“Look out! She’s baaa-aaack,” Sam said with a big grin. After Beth gave him the middle-fingered salute, he cleared his throat and looked at Ty. “Who could have gotten up here since you were here last?”

He shook his head. “Beats hell out of me.”

“I know the perfect time when no one would have noticed or heard,” Beth said, her eyes narrowed and flashing.

Ty followed her train of thought. “Mark’s party.” He shook his head slowly. “Very clever. House was full of people, lots of commotion. Anyone could have slipped up here to trash the place. But
why?
”

“I think Beth already solved that mystery,” Sam said as he walked around the room, touching various pieces of furniture as if he thought they might speak to him. “They were looking for anything she might use against them before she could find it. What we don’t—and can’t—know is if they found anything or removed it. Like the diary.”

“Unless we find it.”

“So let’s dig,” Ty said.

Late in the afternoon, the sunlight streaming through the skylights faded, changing to an almost greenish cast. Beth watched Ty, where he sat sorting through piles of discarded paper, unused canvases, cases of paints and brushes.

“It’s going to storm,” he said absently.

“Always the farmer.” Beth paused behind where he sat on the floor to stroke his dark hair. Something warm passed from him and into her. Wanting more—needing it to anchor her—she rested her open palm on the top of his head, pressing her fist to her heart as his warmth and strength poured through her.

She wanted to name the emotion, but fear stopped her. When she opened her eyes, she found Sam watching from across the room, a knowing look in his eyes. He obviously recognized the connection Beth had discovered with Ty. She would discuss it with him later. Was her gift evolving?

Dare she hope that anything would be better than what she’d experienced before? Or…could it be worse?

She would know the answer by morning. Beth
swallowed hard. If she lived that long. This encounter would either make or break Beth Dearborn.

“What have we here?” Sam had his hand on top of a tall bookcase with ornate woodwork along its front. He stepped onto an overturned drawer to bring himself to eye level with its top. “Come to papa.”

“Did you find something?” Dread and anticipation shot through Beth as Sam removed a wooden box. “Ty, is that the one?”

“I think so.” He scrambled to his feet and brushed dust off his jeans as he crossed the room. “Yeah, that’s it. Lorilee kept her diary in that box. She said it belonged to her grandmother. It’s a music box.”

Lightning flashed over the house, illuminating the room through the skylights. Thunder rumbled.

“Definitely going to storm.” Ty looked up at the darkening sky. “Let’s take this downstairs. I’ll make some coffee. It’s going to be a long night.”

“That’s for sure,” Beth said. The longest night of her life. Thunder rumbled louder this time, and she cringed.

Sam put his steadying hand on her shoulder. “The storm?”

She nodded and patted his hand. Ty was already heading down the stairs. She looked back over her shoulder. “Thank you for coming.”

“I told you I would.”

She smiled. “I know, but you came early and just in time.”

“I always do, Cuz.” He kissed the top of her head. “Interesting thing about storms, though. That’s what you have to thank for me being here early.”

“I was going to ask you about that.”

“So maybe they aren’t so bad, after all?”

“Speak for yourself, Sam.” She started down the stairs as the first drops of rain struck the skylights and the wind howled overhead. “Speak for yourself.”

With every step down the narrow staircase, Beth felt every pulse of lightning, every gust of wind, every bellow of thunder. Her senses were heightened, and she knew why. Her gift was making an encore performance.

Tonight.

In the kitchen, the storm didn’t seem as threatening. Yet. Beth and Sam made sandwiches while Ty put on a pot of coffee.

The phone on the kitchen wall rang, and he answered it. “Ty Malone speaking.” He frowned first, then nodded and said, “Sure, Bill. That’s fine.”

“What’s fine?” Beth asked after he hung up the receiver.

“The tickets will be for tomorrow’s show, so they aren’t leaving until tomorrow afternoon, but he’s keeping the kids anyway because of the weather.”

“Good.” Beth sighed in relief. “That’s good.”

“Monday’s a school holiday for some unknown reason.” He glanced out the window. “I should’ve checked on Cissy before this storm hit,” he said over the coffee grinder.

Beth wiggled the mouse to wake up the monitor and clicked on Barncam. “They look fine, Ty. See? There’s Cissy and her aptly named filly, Stormy.”

He joined her there and slipped his arm around her waist. “They do. I’ll sneak out there once the rain stops.”

“As the only surviving male member of the Dearborn family,” Sam said loftily and cleared his throat, “I should probably ask your intentions toward my cousin.” He grinned at Beth’s gasp when she whirled around to glower. “Alas, I place life and limb at a greater value than my honor, so what the hell?”

Ty laughed, and even Beth had to roll her eyes in exasperation. “You’re lucky I’m not armed, Sammy.”

“Ouch.”

Ty took Beth’s hand. “If it’s all right with you, Professor, we’ll discuss my intentions after we finish this evening’s business.” His words were for Sam, but he looked straight at Beth as he spoke.

“Um, certainly.” Sam set the plate of sandwiches on the table. “Sustenance, then the diary.”

Beth’s stomach lurched. She wasn’t sure she could keep anything down, but she would need her strength to get through this. So she took a seat at the table between her two favorite men and ate a sandwich and sipped coffee while they chatted about the weather as if it were any ordinary day.

The storm intensified. It seemed to have no end. Finally, she said, “Let’s get started reading. I’ll begin, and we can take turns if my voice wears out.” She hoped yet feared this diary would give them the answers.

The dated entries began shortly after Sarah’s birth. By mutual consent, they agreed to move forward to the month of Lorilee’s death. They could always go back if they thought they’d missed something important.

“I know it’s wrong,” Beth read, “but sipping rum
calms me.” Her voice trembled. She knew exactly how Lorilee had felt.

“I don’t always drink at home. Sometimes I go to a motel bar over toward Marysville. I slip in wearing a hat, drink my fill, then make it home before the school bus.”

Ty sighed, his chin in his hands. “I should have tried to stop her. To help her.”

“It’s not your fault, Ty. None of this—”

Lightning struck what sounded like the tree behind the house. Beth screamed. Her heart leapt into her throat. Sweat poured down her face, her neck, between her breasts.

“It’s all right, Beth. Only a storm,” Ty said, pulling his chair close enough that he could drape his arm around her shoulders and press his thigh against hers. “Do you want one of us to read now?”

“Not yet. I—I think I need to do this.” She looked around the table. “That Lorilee wants me to do it.”

Sam nodded. “Yes. That was her message. She was pretty specific.” He refilled her coffee. “Hang in there, Cuz.”

Beth took a long swallow of the bracing coffee, trying to ignore the high-pitched keen of the wind. After clearing her throat, she resumed where she’d left off reading.

“I’m careful not to drink so much that I can’t drive home in time to meet the bus. Even so, with every day that passes, I realize more and more that I need help.

“I started checking on treatment centers—clinics, I guess they’re called—for ladies like me, who have problems with alcohol or drugs. Even though I know I need help, I can’t quite bring myself to get it yet.”

“I should’ve—”

“Shh.” Beth patted Ty’s arm. “This is the last day. It may be important.”

“I don’t think she would have asked me to give it to you if it weren’t important,” Sam added.

“Point taken.” Ty nodded. Thunder boomed. Rain fell. Wind howled.

“I saw Ruby with Gary at the motel bar today. Even worse, they saw
me.
I’m in a terrible pickle. If I tell Daddy about his young bride’s affair, how will I explain my presence in that terrible place?”

“Gary? Do you know this Gary?” Sam asked when both Beth and Ty fell silent.

“You could say that,” Ty said quietly. “My half brother.”

“Oh.” Sam appeared thoughtful. “Interesting.”

“And he was here the day of the party.”

Ty straightened. “Yeah. Uninvited.”

Later that same day, Lorilee made another entry. “I can’t live like this anymore. I made an appointment at the Frobisher Clinic in Marysville.”

Ty confirmed it was an actual treatment clinic, as he’d seen their ads in the newspaper. “All this is starting to make sense. Sorta,” he said.

Beth’s cell phone rang just as another clap of thunder boomed. “Shit.” She pulled the phone from her pocket and flipped it open. “Dearborn here.”

She listened, her eyes widening, then a smile spread across her face. “Thanks. Make sure Sheriff Bailey gets a copy of that report, too.” She disconnected and looked around the table. “The signature on the letter was
not
Lorilee’s.”

Ty rested his forehead on the wooden table, then
met Beth’s gaze. “Is that enough proof, or do you still…?”

She smiled sadly, feeling stronger and more determined than ever. “She was murdered, Ty.” She held the diary up for emphasis. “I still have to prove that for you, for your kids, and for Avery Mutual.
And
I have to solve it.” She looked from Ty to Sam, then back to Ty. “For Lorilee, and for me.”

The diary implicating Ruby and Gary and the forged signature were definitely enough evidence to reopen the case. But Beth figured she could solve the whole thing tonight by engaging Lorilee once and for all.

“I believe in you,” Ty said.

“Thank you.” She smiled sadly, hoping he meant that. “But you need to hear the rest of it before you say that.” She glanced at Sam for support and found it.

“I’m listening.”

“Okay.” Beth drained her coffee and set the diary aside. “My empathic gift allows those who’ve died violently—especially murder victims—to reenact their deaths through my senses.”

Confusion, quickly followed by horror, flashed across Ty’s face. “No. Are you saying you actually relive—experience—someone’s murder in order to solve it?”

Sam went to the refrigerator and brought her back a bottle of cool water. “Thanks, Sam.” She took a drink, then returned her attention to Ty. “Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”

“Beth…that’s like being murdered yourself.” He shook his head. “I can’t stand by and watch you—”

“I don’t remember asking for permission.” She
smiled and patted his hand, then pushed back from the table and stood.

Ty rose and grasped her shoulders. “Beth, is that why you quit the police force?”

She hesitated. “Partly.” She covered his hand with hers. “Let’s get this show on the road, boys.”

Beth walked purposefully from the kitchen into the parlor, and toward the foyer. Lightning continued to flash, but the thunder and wind were diminished now. At least that was something.

“Beth?” Sam called. “Do you want me to go with you?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “Just be here to pick up the pieces, Cuz. Like old times.”

She took a few more steps toward the archway leading into the foyer, then turned to face Ty. Her throat clogged with unspoken emotions. He came to her, gathered her against him, and kissed her long and hard.

“I love you, Beth.”

She didn’t want to leave the warmth of his embrace. His protection. His love pouring into her through their empathic connection. But she must. For him. For his children. For her employer. For herself.

And for Lorilee.

Beth eventually pulled back just enough to hold his hand for several seconds, loath to break that precious contact. “I know,” she whispered. “I know, Ty.” Her voice broke. “I feel it here.” She pressed his hand to her heart. She swallowed convulsively, unable to say more. Not yet.

Then, before she could change her mind, she tore her hand from his grasp and launched herself
through the portal. Ty and Sam both stayed in the doorway, watching, worry etched into their faces.

Beth drew a deep breath and said, “Okay, Lorilee. Come and get me. I’m all yours.”

The dead woman came at Beth like a locomotive. Her possession was fast and powerful and complete.

“
I’ve been waiting so long,
” she said. “
Why did you make me wait?
”

It didn’t matter. She was here now. Why were they having this conversation? In her earlier encounters, the spirits had merely reenacted their deaths through Beth, then moved on to the other side. End of story. But Lorilee wanted to chat. Next thing you knew, they’d be exchanging recipes.

Or notes about Ty?

Don’t go there, Dearborn.

Now they were back to when Lorilee had been alive. Beth sensed the shift. Oh, she hadn’t bargained on feeling drunk, yet she did. Lorilee had clearly been plastered the day she died.

She sprayed her mouth with breath freshener on her way to answer the front door that long-ago day. A younger version of Ruby Brubaker with her overdyed hair and heavily made-up face waited on the other side.

Lorilee did not like her mother-in-law much in the first place, and after seeing her with Gary yesterday, she liked her even less. She tried to close the door, but a man’s boot blocked her effort. Gary Harlan shoved through the door, past Ruby and Lorilee.

Ruby shouted at him not to hurt Lorilee, just to scare her a little so she’d keep her mouth shut. But Gary proceeded to pummel Lorilee with crushing
blows to the face. Pain. Fear. Lorilee tried to shield herself, but to no avail. She fell, but the punishing blows continued—bone shattered, teeth broke, blood spurted from Lorilee’s nose—until there was nothing.

Beth came out of Lorilee’s grip with a strangled scream. Ty gathered her in his arms and carried her to the sofa in the parlor, where Sam bathed her face with a damp cloth.

“Beth? Can you hear me? Beth?” Sam kept stroking her face. “Talk to us. Talk to us.”

“I—I’m okay.” She sat up weakly, and Ty steadied her. “Look.”

A transparent figure took shape a few feet away. It was Lorilee. Beth didn’t understand. This had never happened before.

Lorilee’s eyes were filled with resignation as she approached Ty. She touched his cheek, then turned to Beth.

“I wanted to be like you—sober, and strong enough to stay that way.” Lorilee’s smile was sad but resigned. “I’m finished here now. Thank you.”

And she vanished.

“Holy shit,” Ty said, holding Beth’s hand in a death grip. “Holy shit.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Cuz,” Sam said with a nervous laugh, “but isn’t this something new and rather amazing?” He looked at her. “I mean, even for you?”

“This is the first time I’ve had personal interaction with the spirit afterward,” she said, still in awe. “It seems somehow…more complete.”