The Truth About Mallory Bain (35 page)

BOOK: The Truth About Mallory Bain
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“No, thanks. I'm good,” I said.

Ben called to me from the kitchen. “When will Ronnie be up and around?”

“She already is a little.”

“We should discuss the lady with the gift. Tell us how she works,” said Grant.

The telling was embarrassing, especially the incident that Thursday afternoon after baking. Truth be told, we needed facts on the table, no matter how strange, including her one-time connection with Harwood.

Grant leaned his elbows on his knees. “She undoubtedly is the perfect medium to hold a séance. They shared the same thoughts on death. Harwood talked through her once, he'll talk again.”

“Whoa, Jack,” I said. “Having a ghost drop in uninvited is startling enough, but deliberately summoning . . . I don't know. Especially if Harwood is alive, and say we end up summoning an evil—”

“Demon,” said Ben. He dropped down beside me. “She'll know the difference and stop the séance.”

After witnessing her communing with the dead once before, I had no idea what she could or would do.

“Let's contact your aunt,” said Grant. “Find out when we can meet her. In the meantime, we want to see Ronnie.”

“Hopefully, she will appreciate visitors tomorrow,” I said.

Ben tucked in Caleb, Edgar, and Monster. I watched from a nearby chair with an unrestrained smile. Ben had stretched out in bed next to his son and read a bedtime story like my father used to read to
me. Caleb finally fell asleep watching his dad's face. I rose to tuck his covers up around his shoulders, and then kissed him goodnight.

“You did good, Daddy. You are a natural.”

“I better be,” Ben whispered, “he
is
my natural kid. He is incredible. When I woke up this morning, I was ordinary Ben Holland—nobody special. Tonight I'm a father. When you said he was my son, my love for him started pouring out as though I've always known him.”

“That's how I felt when the nurse laid him in my arms. I'll show you pictures tomorrow. But now, it's my turn.”

Ben took my hand and pulled me against him. “Which story do you want to hear?”

I pressed my cheek against his and whispered, “Do not make me laugh. We'll wake him.” I stepped back, wrapped my fingers around his, and gently tugged until he rose from the bed. “The story with the happily ever after ending.”

“I know that one by heart.”

He took my hand and walked me toward my room,
our
room, after he secured Caleb's windows. He clicked the bathroom doors closed, and paused beside the window. I watched him from the edge of the bed. He moved about the room as if he had never left.

“Nothing is out there.” He let curtain drop.

“Maybe whatever Caleb imagined won't bother him now that you're here. I still can't believe you are. I want to keep touching you to make sure you're alive.”

He sat down on the bed beside me. “You still want to pick up where we left off?”

“I do.”

His eyes met mine and his arms slipped around my waist. I was finally home, lost in his embrace. My arms welcomed the firmness of his back, the leather of his arms. His honey breath warmed my cheek when he slid his mouth over mine.

I traced his face and spread my fingers through his hair. “I see you, I hear you, and I touch you.” A twinge of trepidation crept in,
allowing fear to make me think he had changed or that Chad ruined me enough to make Ben decide against ever loving me again. “All those years gone. I'm scared you'll disappear.”

He smiled and his eyes sparkled. “I'm here and I'm staying.”

Our bond had never died.

His fingers entwined the strands of hair near my neck, and he pressed his mouth against mine. His kisses trailed until my body shivered for more. His lips parted and I gave in, letting fear fade into nothing.

As he felt my body relax, he slid his hand under my satin gown and glided upward to the small of my back. Pulling me against him, he lowered us onto the bed, and switched off the lamp.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-T
WO

S
am welcomed us in, not fully grasping the identity of the men to whom he'd been introduced. Ronnie's disposition brightened. Despite her pain and injuries, she gave them such long hugs, I wondered if she would ever stop. She uttered mouthfuls of expletives at an absent Dana along with tearful expressions of happiness at seeing Ben alive with Grant standing beside him.

Sam helped Ronnie settle into her chair. He and Grant sat on either side of her.

“What are your plans now?” she asked.

“Diane is treating me like a long-lost son and she's fine having me there,” said Ben.

“I'm too happy for words,” said Ronnie. She gave herself a hug.

“Dana's lies are appalling,” I said.

Ronnie flushed. “She had no right!” She slapped the arm of Grant's chair. “Damnit anyway, Jack! Seven years wasted.”

He patted and soothed her fist into an open hand. “She has serious mental issues.”

Ronnie nodded assent. “She'd have to have an overinflated sense of entitlement to assume Ben could want her after losing Mallory.”

Ben gently squeezed my hand. “We have to appreciate how those lost years strengthened us to love each other even more going forward.”

I smiled but not long. “Dana succeeded in keeping us apart for a time, but she never married Ben, which is what she wanted. Maybe still is, in spite of Erik.”

“Mallory says there is a lot of tension between those two,” said Ben. “She's not finished.”

Ronnie leaned her elbow on the arm of her chair as if struck with sudden pain. “I wonder how far she will go now once she learns you're in Minneapolis again.” She added with a small chuckle, “How on earth will she ever get rid of Erik?”

“Hearing about poison, drugs, and accidents, I'm guessing divorce isn't an option,” said Ben.

Sam patted Ronnie's hand. “I oughta confess.” He glanced at me. “I told her about the ladder and the break-in.”

“I should have told you, Mallory, but Dana is your friend,” said Ronnie.

“That friendship was a scam. Obviously.”

My eyes rested on Ben while he and the others continued the conversation. He and I shared the opinion that at any time during those lost years, Dana could have come forward with the truth. It was unlikely that Jack Harwood completely disappeared and was still alive. If she wanted us dead and succeeded in killing Lance, it stood to reason she killed Jack. If true, she was capable of inflicting harm to the rest of us far greater than we could imagine. She had to be stopped.

Ronnie was telling Ben and Grant about her research. “I scored my biggest find on the Norris family this morning. Sam, bring my laptop and file from the spare room, if you don't mind.”

He disappeared down the short hallway to our left.

“Information on Mr. Norris, I hope,” I said.

“Better. He did have a heart attack, it seems. Nothing reprehensible like we thought.”

Sam returned laptop in hand.

“Thanks, hon.” Ronnie let Sam hold the hardcopy files while she clicked away at the keyboard. “It seems,” she paused, “Dana's sister, Adrienne fell to her death from the third-story balcony of their San Diego home. That was about eighteen months before Dana and the parents relocated to Minnesota.”

“When Dana was only sixteen,” I said.

“Fifteen.” Ronnie turned the laptop for Grant to see the screen. She continued. “Nothing proven either way that Adrienne fell accidentally or someone pushed her.”

Grant scrolled down. “This sister was how old?”

“Nineteen.”

“I suppose a younger sister could kill an older one,” said Grant.

“You bet,” said Ben. “Surprise the girl, flip her over the rail. Girls are nearly full grown at fifteen. A fair match, unless the nineteen-year-old is significantly larger or stronger.”

“I'm not seeing any stats on the dead sister,” said Grant, turning the laptop back to Ronnie.

“I found mostly academic ones. Honors program in high school. UCLA student,” said Ronnie. “One photo. Not nearly as pretty as Dana.”

“I reckon she hated her sister enough to kill her,” said Sam.

“She might have, from what she told me,” I said, “Adrienne beat her. The parents sided with Adrienne and punished Dana for tattling.”

“Are you convinced she wasn't born a pathological liar?” Grant leaned to see the computer screen again. “You would think the parents or teachers would have seen bruises.”

“That's what I say.” Ronnie clicked away at the keyboard. “I found a different article that reports a neighbor seeing Dana wearing a backpack and standing on the Norris's front porch before the police arrived.”

“So Dana was there,” said Ben.

“Which is why I'm excited about this find, except the article doesn't blame her. It says she found Adrienne dead, and refers to her as ‘the sister of the deceased.'”

“Any information on how she found her sister?” asked Ben.

“The article goes on to say the neighbor watched Dana enter the house minutes before the police and ambulance arrived.”
Ronnie grimaced when she shifted position in the recliner and let out a small scream.

“Pain pills.” Sam jumped up from his chair.

“Assuming Dana murdered her sister,” said Grant, fluffing Ronnie's pillows, “she pushed the girl off the balcony, snuck out a backdoor and around the house to enter through the front.”

Ben leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “There must be a note about the time lapse between when the neighbor saw her enter the house and when the EMS and police arrived. From what I'm hearing, it seems like Dana made a beeline for the body.”

“And she may have,” said Ronnie.

I added, “No stopping in the kitchen for a snack. No going to the bathroom. Any signs of a struggle? Defensive injuries on either girl?”

“Not mentioned. The neighbor had a routine, though. She let her dog play in the front yard the same time every day. Clockwork.”

“There you go—a ready-made witness,” I said.

Ronnie frowned. “Except a neighbor across the street noticed two young men wearing T-shirts and shorts come out of the house earlier in the afternoon. He gave only a vague description of their car because he wasn't paying close attention.”

“Nothing ever came of them?” I asked.

“They never came forward. Nobody knew who they were,” said Ronnie.

“And no arrests,” added Sam.

Grant pushed up his glasses. “Mallory mentioned the timeline relative to when Dana found her sister.”

“Time of death to when the police arrived took place within a couple of hours,” said Ronnie. “The facts point more to the guys visiting earlier that afternoon.”

With incomplete information about Adrienne's death, and no arrest or conviction, we needed to bear in mind Dana could be a killer. We needed to stay focused on our own facts and make a
connection between Dana and the spirit who wanted justice, assuming Aunt Judith was correct.

“Ronnie, yesterday the three of us were talking about a spirit reaching out to us,” I said. “We also talked about how none of us have heard from Jack Harwood, nor have we found him still alive with our Internet searches. We agree he's most likely dead.”

Grant added, “Problem is, we have no motive for Dana killing Jack, if murder is how he died. Interesting how your research findings leave the door wide open to her sister having been murdered either by those guys or Dana.”

“Or the girl leaned over and fell,” said Sam.

“Trust me, Dana is disturbed enough to kill,” said Ben.

“She's screwy, all right,” said Sam. “But killin' is a violent act for a woman.”

Ronnie's jaw dropped. “Women are quite as capable of murder. Where have you been hiding all your life?”

As I listened, I considered that urgency made telling everything I knew important, starting with Harwood and Dana. “I can think of a motive for her killing Jack—to shut him up. Ben, you remember the argument we overheard. She wanted him to mind his own business, except we never found out why.”

Ben recounted what we heard the morning we last saw Jack Harwood alive. “The ‘him' Harwood mentioned was me.”

I agreed. “He knew she'd never be satisfied without the object of her conquest.”

“We both suspected he'd been upset about something for days,” said Ben.

“Whatever she had on him doesn't shed any light on her motive for wanting Ronnie dead,” said Grant. “I will bet my paycheck Dana drove that SUV.”

“There's not one speck of proof she did,” said Sam.

“We need a place to start, Sam,” said Ben. “From what little Mallory knows at this point, the police don't suspect Dana of killing Lance, but we can suspect for them.”

Ronnie wrinkled her face. “She's never liked me since day one. She used me and I regret having let her.”

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