The Green-Eyed Doll (35 page)

He turned, and his face explained everything. A gasp rushed from her mouth.

He glared at her with eyes cold as a great white shark. Arms folded across his chest, the tendons in his neck bulged. Catherine’s heart went into freefall. His chiseled jaw was set in a hard line, and one corner of his mouth twitched.

He knew.

Inside her body, every muscle liquefied. She groped for something to hang onto. She stumbled to the chair and gripped the back. “Matt. Say something.”

“‘Say’ what, Catherine?” He advanced one menacing step.

He spit her name out with such venom she flinched as if he’d struck her.

“‘Say’ you’re a liar? ‘Say’ I watched a news video today in which you were the star attraction?” He flicked his wrist as if shooing away something disgusting. “Why don’t I ‘say’ what I came to? Goodbye.”

“Wait. Please.” She held her hand out to stop him. Her throat constricted. Mouth went dry. She swallowed and forced a whisper. “I tried to tell you.”

“You didn’t try too hard. Did you? You didn’t grab me by the shoulders the first time we made love and insist I listen to you. You didn’t run out to my pickup this morning to tell me, ‘I love you, too. Oh, and by the way, I killed my husband,’ so don’t try now.”

“I’m sorry,” she choked out the only words in her heart.

He brushed past her and out the door unable or unwilling to respond to her.

Catherine closed her eyes and pictured him getting into his shiny black truck and driving out of her life forever. She clamped her hands over her mouth when a loud sob of unfathomable pain gushed from deep inside. She didn’t run after him. How could she? Tears poured from her eyes. From her heart. From her soul.

She staggered to the bathroom with seconds to spare before collapsing on the tile floor and emptying the contents of her churning stomach in the toilet. Afraid to stand, she pushed herself upright into a corner, placed her back against the wall, and waited for the revulsion to hit again.

Catherine had spent plenty of time on the floor in years past, her spirit broken and confidence shaken, but she’d never felt such a loss. This pain was much greater than any beating she’d endured. This was her fault. Her willingness to lie, and her refusal to deal with the past had brought on this disaster. Her refusal to stand up had cost her the most important thing in her life. Matt’s love.

A light tap on the front door forced Catherine off the bathroom floor. Had Matt returned? Was he willing to listen? The outline of Emma’s small frame on the other side of the glass brought mixed emotions. Catherine didn’t feel social. She opened the door prepared to brush Emma off, instead found herself gathered into a soft, loving hug. How could Emma have known she needed somebody?

Without speaking, Emma moved them to the couch where she cradled Catherine in her arms, and let her weep. Her hand slid back and forth across Catherine’s back, soothing and comforting.

“You were right. I should’ve spoken up. He never should’ve been blindsided this way,” Catherine whispered.

“After that story ran on television, I worried a mite. Then he showed up here and loaded his stuff...his actions told the tale.”

“Yeah. I broke his trust. Lied to him.” Catherine had no trouble remembering his exact words.

“That Horning witch, she got curious who the sheriff was spending his time with instead of looking for a serial killer. She did some investigating and turned up the video, which she aired today.” Emma’s lips thinned to narrow line. “She spun an ugly story. Left out the fact you fought for your life.”

Catherine leaned forward, dropping her head in her hands. “God, it’s worse than I thought.”

“I called the station manager. Gave him an earful.” Emma stood and jammed both balled up hands in the pocket of her housedress. “He’s responsible for that woman telling half-truths. They ought to be ashamed that woman’s on the payroll. And let me tell you, I intend to see what I can do about her.”

Catherine’s bottom lip trembled. Emma’s caring touched a place in her heart. “Thank you for standing up for me.”

“You’re welcome. Now...what’s the plan?”

“There’s not much I can do. He won’t listen.”

“That’s an excuse to give up and run. You love Matt? Stand and fight.”

While Emma talked, an idea formed in Catherine’s mind. “Maybe I can help him before I leave. I’ll set the record straight.”

“I wish you’d rethink moving on. Don’t give up on your dreams.”

Catherine’s promise to eat something was the only reason Emma went home. The idea of food made Catherine’s stomach cramp. She crawled in on Matt’s side of the bed, burying her face in his pillow. His scent surrounded her. She closed her eyes. Not to think, not to regret, not to remember. To plan.

She couldn’t allow Matt to pay for her lies. Tomorrow after Emma drove her to town to pick up her car, Catherine would go to the television station and then to the newspaper offices. Somebody would listen to her side of the story. She’d make them hear the truth. She’d explain how she’d kept the truth from Matt. Maybe she could stop the people of his county from holding him responsible for her mistakes. She’d broken Matt’s trust and lost him. The least she could do was try to save his reputation.

****

Thursday, September 7th, 8:00 p.m.

The growl of Ash’s sports car rumbling down the driveway brought mumbled cuss words from Matt. The barn was his refuge, a place to be quiet, so he ignored the banging up at the house and Ash’s persistent shouts. Avoiding him was impossible, and within minutes, he followed Benedict Arnold into the barn.

“Smart dog. I asked him where the idiot was, and damned if he didn’t lead me right to you.”

“You like him? Take him to Houston with you.” Matt smeared more leather wax onto his rag and continued polishing one of the saddles sitting on sawhorses.

Ash sat a six-pack on the ground, pulled the tabs off two beers, and placed one in
front of Matt. “So...how are things?”

He leveled a gaze at Ash that would’ve sent a normal person a message. Knowing his bull-headed friend would ignore it, Matt added, “Don’t fucking start with me.”

“Is it your intention to rub the design off the skirt of that saddle?”

“It’s mine. Bought and paid for.”

“Yes, sir, if that’s the case, it does belong to you. And I see you bought two.” Ash walked over, swung a leg over the other sawhorse, and eased down on the second saddle. “The seat is a mite small on this one, must be for a woman.” He wiggled his butt a few times, hopped off, and studied the construction. “What’ll you do with it now?”

“You can have the damn thing, if you’ll take it and the dog, and leave me the hell alone.”

“You bought this for Catherine. Right?”

Matt whipped his head around at the sound of her name. His gut was on fire, life in shambles, and he desperately wanted to punch somebody. Ash was dangerously close to becoming the prefect target.

“Now you’re my shrink? You want me to talk about my problems? Well, fuck off.”

Ash ran his hand down the suede seat and across the padded rise on the front of the saddle made especially for a female rider. Matt had driven to San Antonio and handpicked this one for Catherine. Sparks shot to his brain when Ash’s big paw rubbed back and forth. A pang of jealousy knifed through Matt straight to his belly.

“I’ll bet you’ve been shopping for two horses.”

“Ash,” Matt ground out the words. “You go too far.”

Apparently impervious to the fact he was close to getting his ass kicked, Ash continued speaking. “The man I know wouldn’t do this for an ordinary woman.” Ash waved his arm through the air. “That same man made plans...long term plans...probably bought two horses. When are they being delivered?”

Matt answered without thinking. “Sunday.”

“Bingo! No man does all this for a woman...unless he’s in love with her.”

Ash’s words hit their target like a sniper’s bullet. Hard, fast, and piercing. Matt drew his hand back and threw the can of leather wax across the barn. He flexed his fingers, closed them tight, then quickly released the tension. No way could he swing at Ash, not after all they’d been through.

Matt backed up, relaxed his knees, and slid down the wall. “I knew before I opened my mouth...you leaving me alone was out of the question.”

“If I thought you’d do the right thing, I would.” Ash brought Matt his beer and joined him on the ground. “You’re sitting in the middle of a shit-storm. Lots of people watch TV, some watch Sylvia Horning. After you left, Sue couldn’t keep up with the phone calls. People demanded answers, wanted your badge, interesting enough, most of them supported you. They’re pissed at Horning’s underhanded methods.”

“I could care less what the public is saying. Let them talk. If they want my badge, they’ll have to hold a special election. I’m not leaving.”

“Good to know. Now, how will you fix your real problem?”

Matt leaned his head back and banged the wall a couple of times. “There’s no other problem. I handled that this afternoon. End of story. I expect you to be at work in the morning. I’m driving to San Antonio tomorrow for Jessie’s autopsy, and then I’ll head to the office. You and Rey can hunt JC’s hidden cabin.”

“Not so fast. If my deductive powers serve me well, and they’re superior, you screwed up royally with Catherine. You better get over your pride before it’s all you have to keep you warm.” Ash opened himself another beer.

“You have no idea what happened between me and Catherine this afternoon.”

“Duh.” Ash huffed out his irritating disgusted noise before he continued. “You’re here with me and not at her place.”

“Stop right there. She had over six weeks to tell me she’d killed her husband. I asked her what caused the nightmares and why she moved from one town to the next. She had plenty of chances. It was too much fun playing the sheriff for a fool. I not only acted like an idiot in private, I did it out in public.”

“I thought you didn’t care what people thought. Did you at least ask her why?”

“Hell, I don’t think she’s a cold-blooded murderer. It didn’t me take long to figure out somebody had mistreated Catherine. She should have told me...trusted me. Instead when I asked her questions, she sidestepped the issue.” He shook his head in disgust. “She lied to me.”

Ash stood and tossed his two empty cans into the trash barrel. “Okay. You win. She lied. Kept a secret. You fell in love with who she is...not who she used to be. I never thought I’d say this, you’re a fool if you let this one get away.”

Matt stared into the eyes of the friend who’d been there for him so many times. He’d never seen pity in Ash’s gaze. Tonight, sympathy tinged with disappointment radiated from his face.

“Keep the dog.” Ash’s tone brimmed with anger. “You need a friend.”

Ash’s words fell heavy on Matt. “You don’t understand. I told her things I’ve never told you.” He dropped his head in his hands. “Spilled my guts to her. Trusted her. Too bad the feeling wasn’t mutual.”

The silence was deafening. Now of all times, Ash had nothing to say? When Matt looked up he was alone. A few minutes later the fancy sports car roared off into the night.

Matt straightened up the barn and headed to the house. The small sliver of a moon surrounded by millions of stars offered no answers when he stopped and looked up for help.

“Come on, Benedict.” He patted his leg, and the traitorous dog followed him in the house.

He’d told Catherine the day they met he didn’t like being played. And that’s exactly what she’d done, played him for a fool. Could he go on with his life and be happy without her? Did he want to? She’d looked inside him, looked deep under all the layers of bullshit and saw the man he was and still fell in love with him.

Surrendering to fatigue, he went to his bedroom, undressed, and lay flat of his back across the mattress. There in the silence, in the total darkness of night, memories of Catherine slammed into him in giant tidal waves. Her scent, vanilla. Her wild, unruly long hair, silken wildfire. Her laughter, sunshine. Her taste, pure honey.

His imagination brought her back to him. Her hand slid across his chest and rested over his heart. The pressure weighed him down. He cursed and flipped over on his belly, one arm dangled over the side of the bed. A soft, damp nose nuzzled the palm of his hand. A warm tongue licked his fingers. The dog that for months wouldn’t let Matt touch him—the same mutt that fell in love with Catherine at first sight, Benedict Arnold—offered comfort.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Friday, September 8th, 8:00 a.m.

“I wish you’d let me fill your car with gas or pay for having it serviced.” Catherine thanked Emma for her generosity. She prayed Emma would stop talking about Matt.

“Nonsense. I’m glad I could help.” Emma glanced at Catherine, her eyebrows pulled together over her driving glasses. “I wish you’d let me come with you to the newspapers and especially that blasted TV station.”

“I have to do this by myself...for myself. I’ve caused Matt a lot of trouble he doesn’t deserve.” Catherine blinked her eyes rapidly.

Putting “no more tears” back on her
Never
list was an important step today. Showing weakness in front of Sylvia Horning would get the same reaction as throwing chum in a shark tank.

Emma parked in front of the garage and turned to Catherine. “So you’re mind is made up?”

“Yes, ma’am. I have to try to get the truth out to the public. Then I’ll come home and start packing.”

“I wish you wouldn’t leave.”

Catherine studied the crease in her linen slacks to keep from facing Emma. “He’ll be much better off with me out of the picture. People will forget quicker if I’m not around as a reminder.”

“When and where will you go?”

“I’ll work this weekend. The tips from the bar will help restock my travel funds.” She covered Emma’s hand with hers. “But you’re not getting rid of me. I love you, and I promise to stay in touch.”

The disbelief in Emma’s eyes made the lump in Catherine’s throat too large to continue. She opened the car door before leaning across and kissing Emma’s cheek.