The Stranger's Sin (8 page)

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “Twenty-two of them.”

“What?” he sputtered.

“I’m a teacher,” she said with a laugh, confirming what he already knew. “I think of all my students as my kids.”

Chase waited for a break in traffic that had grown heavier thanks to the Fourth of July holiday and pulled into the street, suddenly awash in curiosity about her. “It sounds like you enjoy teaching.”

“I love it.” She pronounced each of the three words distinctly, lending them more weight. “I love kids, period. Their innocence. Their joy. Their eagerness to
learn. I feel energized when I’m around them, I guess because I’m seeing the world through their eyes.”

“I feel that way around Toby.” He was constantly amazed at how quickly the child had taken up space in his heart. “Don’t get me wrong, I love going to work—especially because I’m not a salesman anymore—but sometimes I’d rather stay home and play with him.”

“Perfectly understandable,” she said. “But what did you mean about being a salesman?”

“I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life, so I majored in business in college,” he said. “My first job was selling office equipment.”

“How did you become a forest ranger?”

“I did a cold call one day at the Pennsylvania Game Commission office. A notice was posted on the bulletin board about a need for wildlife conservation officers so I decided to apply. The rest is history.”

The hour’s drive to Allentown passed swiftly, with his vague suspicions about Kelly slowly fading as the conversation flowed. He talked about the challenges of maintaining a home office and patrolling an area of three-hundred-and-fifty square miles, and she entertained him with stories about her students.

“One little boy was the ring bearer at his uncle’s wedding,” she said. “He brought a plastic ring to school and asked one of the girls to marry him. When she said no, he started to sob. After I dried his tears, he asked if I would marry him.”

“What did you say?”

“That if I was still single, we could talk about it again when he had grown up.”

“I think I’m jealous.” Chase meant the comment to be tongue in cheek. He slanted her a look. Their eyes met and held, and something infinitesimal changed between them. He realized he’d just admitted he was attracted to her. Unless he was mistaken, she felt the same.

She broke their charged gaze and launched into another story, as if nothing had happened. He vowed to see that it didn’t. He definitely was not in the market to get involved with anyone so soon after Mandy.

A collection of tents appeared before long, signaling that they’d arrived at the craft show.

They found a parking spot in a grassy field, then walked through the makeshift lot to the area where the craftsmen had set up, with Chase being careful not to get too close to her. The temperature was still moderate, but the air was humid.

A lady selling handcrafted soap that looked and smelled like chocolate told them the jewelry makers were set up at the far end of the fair. She described Helene Heffinger as a small bleached blonde with a big attitude.

En route they passed a cornucopia of crafts for sale, from custom-designed tote bags to whimsical pincushions to hand-stitched doll clothing. If somebody could dream it up, a crafter was hawking it.

Now that Chase was attuned to Kelly, he noticed little things about her. The delicacy of her profile. The way her hair rustled in the warm breeze. The eagerness in her step as they approached the jewelry section.

The only bleached blonde wore a bright red top, a flowing white skirt and red high-top tennis shoes. She perched on a tall stool above backdrops of black velvet
displaying her creations. Deep lines bracketed her eyes and mouth, labeling her a smoker.

Kelly made a beeline for her and reached her first, pulling the photo they’d brought along of Mandy from her purse. She sounded almost breathless when she asked, “Are you Helene Heffinger?”

The woman peered at her above small wire-rimmed glasses as though deciding whether Kelly was worthy of an answer. Definitely not a born saleswoman, Chase thought. “Yeah,” the woman intoned.

Kelly hurriedly introduced herself and Chase, then held out the photo. “We’re looking for a woman who might be one of your customers.”

“What did she do?” Heffinger demanded.

“Do?” Kelly seemed taken aback by the confrontational question. “She didn’t
do
anything.”

“Is she a missing person then?”

“Well, no.” Kelly said.

“Then she must owe you money,” Heffinger said. “Why else would you be looking for her?”

“It has nothing to do with money,” Kelly interjected, the lie pouring off her like water over a fall. She gazed directly at the jewelry-maker, her eyes clear, her voice earnest. If Chase had been on the receiving end of that denial, he would have believed her. “I’m not the one who needs to find her. Chase is. I’m helping him.”

Heffinger’s gaze shifted to Chase, who was prompted into replying, “She’s an ex-girlfriend.”

“She left her baby with him,” Kelly added while Chase was deciding how much detail tell Heffinger. “His name is Toby, and he’s only a year old.”

Chase might not have shared his story so baldly, but had to admit the strategy paid off. Heffinger definitely seemed interested. “So you think something might have happened to her?”

“Yes! We’re worried about her,” Kelly said, another lie spilling easily from her lips. “We just want to make sure she’s all right.”

“Why come to me?” Heffinger asked.

“We thought you might keep a mailing list of your customers. We’re not sure where she lived before she moved in with Chase. If we had an address, we could check with neighbors to see if she reached out to them.”

Heffinger extended a hand, wordlessly asking for a second look at the sketch. “What’s her name?”

“Mandy Smith,” Kelly answered. “But she might be going by Amanda. She might even be using a different last name.”

Chase remained silent, watching Kelly in action, his doubts about her resurrecting. She was now telling the truth, but seemed no less sincere than she had when she lied.

“Why do you think she’s one of my customers?” Heffinger asked.

Kelly produced the necklace. “This was hers.”

Heffinger fingered the jewelry, turning the necklace over and scowling at the broken clasp before handing it back. “I guarantee my work. She should have brought it back for a refund.”

“Then you do remember her?” Kelly asked, audible hope in her voice.

“A woman didn’t buy this from me. A man did. I re
member because he gave me a drawing of a necklace and talked me into making something that looked like it.”

Chase figured he’d kept silent long enough. “How long ago was this?”

“At least a year and a half,” Heffinger said. “Maybe more.”

“Do you remember his name?”

“What do I look like? An elephant?” She huffed. “Like I said, lots of people buy jewelry from me.”

“Do you keep copies of your receipts?”

“’Course I do.” Heffinger sounded affronted. “But I only take cash.”

“So there’s no way to know who bought this necklace from you,” Chase finished.

“Not unless I wrote down his name and phone number on the receipt so I could call and tell him when the necklace was finished.”

That sounded like a distinct possibility to Chase. He dug in the pocket of his khaki shorts and pulled out a business card. “Here’s my cell number and e-mail address. If you come across that phone number, would you contact us?”

“I can’t promise nothing,” she said, but took the card. “It’d take a while to go through my records.”

“One more thing,” Chase said, continuing before Heffinger could get even testier. “Could you help me pick out a piece of jewelry for my babysitter?”

Heffinger suggested a bracelet of colored stones that cost well more than Chase wanted to spend, but to increase the chances that she’d contact them he took her recommendation.

“It’d mean a lot if you checked your records, Ms. Heffinger,” Kelly said after Chase paid for the bracelet. “If we can find that man, maybe we can find Mandy. Like I said, we just want to make sure she’s okay.”

Kelly sounded earnest, the way she had when she told her original story about wanting to return the broken necklace and then again when relating how Mandy had stolen her ATM card.

Since she’d easily twisted the truth to bend Helene Heffinger to her will, the question remained whether Chase could believe anything she said.

K
ELLY TRIED NOT TO GET
discouraged as she and Chase walked away from Helene Heffinger. The jeweler had said she’d check her records, not that she wouldn’t help. But the reality was that, even if Heffinger had information about the man who’d bought the necklace on file, it might not help them find Mandy.

In retrospect, Kelly acknowledged that the lead had been a long shot. She’d been emotionally and physically spent after talking to the bartender at the Blue Haven and had let herself hope that Heffinger would recognize Mandy and provide her new address. A pipe dream.

She wished now that she’d spent the latter part of yesterday searching for fresh clues instead of succumbing to exhaustion. So far she was getting nowhere while her preliminary hearing got closer with each passing day.

“You’re a very good liar,” Chase said.

Her step faltered, her defenses going up like a brick wall. She’d felt so comfortable with Chase during the drive to the craft fair that she’d let herself forget he was in law enforcement.

She’d let herself become attracted to him.

Who was she trying to fool? One of the reasons she’d
asked him to team up with her had been that she was already attracted to him. Far too much.

“I only said what I did to get Ms. Heffinger to help us,” she explained. “She wouldn’t have helped if I told her Mandy owed me money.”

He stuck his hands in the pockets of his shorts, not looking at her as they weaved through the burgeoning crowd. Most of the women they passed, and quite a few of the men, gave him second looks. She thought it was mostly because they could tell from his carriage he was a man of substance.

Fear that he’d discover her true motives wasn’t paramount in her mind, she realized. She was afraid of him thinking poorly of her. It was a hell of a thing, but there it was.

“It made more sense to tell her why
you
were looking for Mandy,” Kelly continued. “Your story’s more sympathetic.”

He said nothing. The easy camaraderie of the morning had vanished as completely as the smoke from a barbecue grill.

A half dozen food vendors had set up around a flat, grassy area populated with portable tables and chairs. “I need to get to work as soon as we get back so how about an early lunch?” Chase said as they approached the area. “I’ll buy.”

“That’s not necessary,” Kelly said.

“I thought you were short on cash.” The inflection in his voice hinted he no longer believed that was the case, doubt she’d brought on herself. He was both right and wrong. Mandy hadn’t been the one to clean her out her
savings account, but the money Kelly had withdrawn was disappearing fast.

“I am a little short,” she said.

“Then I’ll treat.”

After they ordered, she followed him to a table where he set down their tray of food. The silence between them was so pronounced, the popping of their soda tops sounded like gunfire. He bit into his cheeseburger, but she ignored her chicken sandwich, still chewing on her lie.

The lie that had slipped from her as easily as air from her lungs. The lie that met with his disapproval. But couldn’t he see that all lies weren’t the same, that there were times when lying was necessary? At one period in her life, she’d viewed them as survival tools.

“Lying isn’t always wrong, you know,” she said.

He set down his burger on his paper plate and looked her full in the face for the first time since they’d left Helene Heffinger. “How so?”

She fidgeted, picked up her soda can, put it down without taking a drink. How could she make him understand? “What would you say if a woman asked if her jeans made her look fat?”

He folded his hands over his chest, the line of his mouth as uncompromising as his posture. “If she’s asking, she already knows they make her look fat.”

She sighed. “Then what about a lie to protect the innocent?”

He gave a quick shake of his head. “I’m not following.”

Like him, she didn’t touch her food. She was too busy concentrating on a way to sway Chase from his rigid view of the world. She slowly came up with a scenario
to illustrate her point. “What if your dad was arrested for murder?”

“Never happen,” he said quickly. “My dad’s not capable of hurting anyone.”

“You’re sure of that?”

His eyes narrowed. “Positive.”

“Then what if it was a case of mistaken identity? Your dad tells the cops he’s innocent, but they insist they have the right guy.” She kept on, even though the situation was uncomfortably close to her personal catastrophe, hoping to get Chase to see things in a different light. “If you say your dad was with you at the time of the murder, he goes free and nobody knows you lied.”

“I’d know.”

She felt her jaw drop. “You’d let your dad go to prison?”

“I’d tell the truth and then try like hell to dig up proof that he was innocent.”

Chase had far too much faith in the truth. The facts hadn’t kept Kelly out of jail. “In my world, everything isn’t so clear cut. Sometimes lying is a necessary evil.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Like when you’re looking for a woman who owes you money?”

No! she wanted to shout. When you’re running out of leads in a desperate search to locate the only woman who can keep you out of prison.

How, she wondered, could she make him understand? She’d have to try another approach: The truth.

“I was on my sixth elementary school by the time I was twelve years old,” she blurted. “I lost count of how many times I was the new kid. It wasn’t easy to fit in, especially if the other kids found out I was a foster child.”

She seldom revealed the way she’d grown up to anybody, even now. She hesitated, not ready to share the whole story of how her mother’s arrest for murder and subsequent sentence to life without parole had landed her in the foster-care system as a frightened eight year old. But she wanted to tell him at least part of it.

“Sometimes I said my mother was a doctor and my father was a lawyer. Other times they were both architects who designed fabulous buildings. Once I said they were independently wealthy so they both just stayed home and took care of me.”

He said nothing, but uncrossed his arms from his chest and leaned slightly forward, regarding her with interest rather than his previous apprehension.

“Eventually somebody always found out I was lying but by then I was already leaving, off to another foster family, another school,” she said.

More and more people were stopping for lunch, filling the tables around them, their chatter growing louder and louder. Kelly barely noticed any of the commotion, so focused was she on her past.

“Did you move around from family to family your entire childhood?” he asked.

“Oh, no.” She shook her head for emphasis. “I landed with Mama Rosa when I was thirteen and that’s where I stayed, thank God.”

“Mama Rosa?” Chase prodded.

“My foster mother. She was at least six feet tall, with deep lines on her face and this loud, gruff voice.” Kelly’s mind rewound to the first time she’d gazed up at the big, tough woman. “She told me right off the bat we’d be fine
as long as I was straight with her. She scared me half to death, to tell you the truth.”

“Did you lie to her, too?”

“At first, mostly so she wouldn’t find out I didn’t measure up.” She’d lied about whether she’d finished her homework, the grades she’d made on her tests, if she’d done her chores. “Then one day, a couple of us were horsing around in the house. Mama Rosa had this beautiful heirloom lamp. I tripped and knocked it over. It broke into a hundred pieces.”

She pressed her lips together, remembering how much her foster mother had loved the lamp and how afraid Kelly had been for her to discover who’d broken it.

“She asked who did it. I said it wasn’t me. She got quiet, then this big tear dripped down her cheek. I’d never seen her cry before. I couldn’t stand how much it hurt for her to lose the lamp, so I confessed.” She blew out a breath. “It turned out she wasn’t crying because of the broken lamp. She was crying because I’d lied to her. Again.”

A man walking by their table bumped Chase’s chair and apologized. He barely seemed to notice.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing. She was true to her word. I’d told the truth, so I didn’t get grounded.” She stared down at her hands. “I never lied to her again.”

She stopped short of telling him she hadn’t entirely given up the behavior. Oh, she’d never cheat on her income tax or tell a lie that would hurt anybody, but she usually claimed her mother was dead. Neither was she above telling the occasional white lie. More than once, she’d claimed to have a boyfriend when someone asked her out.

“Your foster mother sounds like a remarkable woman.”

“She was. After I moved in with her, she got licensed for short-term emergency care. Most of the time, there were five or six other kids living with us. It was like a revolving door.”

“Where is she now?”

“She died of a brain aneurysm when I was a freshman in college.” Pain lanced through her even though Mama Rosa had been dead going on six years. “One day she was fine, and the next she was gone.”

He reached across the table and covered her hand with his, understanding glowing in the depths of his eyes. She realized she’d also described what happened to his mother.

“It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to,” she told him. “She’d want me to be happy she lived instead of sad that she’s no longer here. She taught me so much I feel a part of her lives on in me.”

“She taught you it’s wrong to lie,” he stated.

“Yeah. She wouldn’t have approved of what I told Helene Heffinger today.” She voiced her conclusion aloud. “Which means you were right. I shouldn’t have lied to her.”

“We all do things we shouldn’t,” he said. “But not everybody admits it when they make a mistake.”

Chase would own up to his miscues. He was a stand-up guy, a do-the-right-thing kind of guy. He wasn’t the sort of guy who deserved to be lied to.

The cell phone clipped to Chase’s belt rang, interrupting them. She listened to his end of the conversation, figuring there was some problem with Teresa.

“Just do what you need to do and don’t worry about it,” he said in a calm, sure voice. “I’ll manage.”

Chase finished the call, then swore under his breath.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Not really. Teresa’s daughter called from the emergency room in Philly. Her three year old fell and hit her head. Her husband’s out of town so she left the two year old with a neighbor. She asked if Teresa could come right away.”

“What about Toby?”

“That’s why Teresa called. Her neighbor will watch him until we get back to town, but then I need to find a babysitter for the rest of the day.”

“I’ll do it,” Kelly offered instantly.

“Are you sure?” he said. “It’s going to be crazy tonight because of the holiday. I’ll probably help the police patrol for DUIs after the sun goes down so it could be a late night.”

“Then I’ll stay the night at your place,” she said. “You’d be doing me a favor, too. The B and B is booked for the weekend so it would save me finding another hotel.”

“I wasn’t sure you were staying in town.”

She couldn’t go back to Wenona. Not yet. Not when she wasn’t much closer to locating Mandy than she had been when she left. “For the time being.”

“How much did Mandy steal from you anyway?” he asked, his expression curious.

My good name and possibly my freedom, Kelly thought.

“A good deal,” she said, skirting an untruth. “Let me do this, Chase. I’d like to help you.”

“Okay,” he said. “Thanks. This is perfect. You can sleep in Mandy’s room.”

“Mandy’s room?” Kelly parroted, tact forgotten.

“That’s right,” he said. “She had her own room.”

Kelly longed to know why they hadn’t shared a room, but it wasn’t any of her business. She should be thanking him instead of questioning him, especially because she might find a clue as to where Mandy had gone in the house. “That’d be great.”

“Then it’s settled.” He smiled at her, obviously not having taken offense at her question. Her stomach lurched.

She’d told him the story about growing up in foster care to explain why she sometimes felt it necessary to lie, but then they’d gotten on the tangent of Mama Rosa. It seemed she’d inadvertently convinced him she was inherently trustworthy.

She meant to try her best to be truthful from here on out, but she couldn’t take back the lies she’d already told. Not until they found Mandy.

She felt a stab in the region of her heart, but it was neither a heart attack or heartburn. It was despair.

Because, considering the sort of man he was, by then he’d probably never forgive her.

W
HAT A DIFFERENCE THIRTY-SIX
hours made, Chase thought as he quietly made his way through the downstairs of the dark house Friday night.

When he’d returned from the hospital in the wee hours of Thursday morning, he’d been anxious about his decision to leave Toby with a woman he’d just met. Earlier today, after Kelly had flip-flopped her
story about why she was searching for Mandy and then lied to Helene Heffinger, he’d questioned Kelly’s credibility.

But tonight, even though there was still much he didn’t know about Kelly, he experienced no such qualms.

It could be because of the love and respect in her voice when she’d shared the tale about her principled foster mother. Or because of how great she was with Toby.

He wasn’t exactly sure why, but the wall of suspicion he’d been erecting had come crumbling down.

It had been silly but tonight, as he’d patrolled the waters and then the highways, he’d thought about going home.

To Kelly.

“Fool,” he called himself.

She was passing through Indigo Springs and would soon be gone. Even if they had the sort of relationship where she’d be eagerly waiting for him to come home, it was just after midnight. She wouldn’t be waiting now.

He flipped on the light switch, blinked, then blinked again. There at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a glass of milk, was Kelly.