The Widows of Braxton County (22 page)

“No. I think you’re smart and can do anything that you set your mind to.”

“I bet that wasn’t the opinion at the café.”

“Ahh—no.” Will gave her a rueful smile. “Albert Forsyth gave you two years before you lost everything.”

“He sounds like Mr. Tolliver,” she said, leaning her head against the back of the swing. “He wasn’t very supportive either.”

“Why do you want to do this, Kate?”

She lifted her head and looked at him while tucking the blanket around her legs. “Various reasons, but I guess I need to prove something.”

“To your grandmother?”

Kate jerked forward. “Hell no,” she declared, “to myself. All my life, I’ve been told I couldn’t and now I want to prove I can.” She spread her hands wide. “If I fail, at least I gave it a shot. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah.” Will rubbed the arms of the chair. “When I got out of college, I didn’t think I wanted to join Dad at the hardware store. The economy’s tough for small retailers, so I decided to play it safe and work for a chain store.” He frowned. “Hated every minute of it.”

“Why?”

“I found it to be all about the hustle and how the store could stay ahead of the competition.” He lifted one shoulder. “I like a slower lifestyle and giving customers the personal touch. The store is never going to turn a huge profit, but that’s okay. I’d rather enjoy my life than make a lot of money.”

“Ahh, so you don’t want to be the ‘Hardware King of Northwest Iowa’?” Kate teased.

“Nope,” he answered easily. “At one time, I might have had that grand ambition, but things change.” He looked at Kate with a solemn expression. “I don’t have to point that out to you.”

“No, you don’t,” she answered softly.

They were both silent as they listened to the rhythmic creak of the porch swing.

Kate was the first to speak. “Your life changing doesn’t mean it’s over, does it? Happiness can still be found, can’t it?”

“I think so. It might be different, feel different, than what you expected, but it’s still a form of happiness.”

Kate sighed and let the night and a sense of peace wrap around her.

Chapter 35

K
ate bolted up in bed. The sense of peace she’d felt as she’d fallen asleep had vanished. A scream? Had she heard a scream? Grabbing her robe, she threw it on as she shoved her feet into her slippers and ran to the window. She pulled back the curtains and stared out into the darkness.

A harvest moon hung in the sky like a huge golden ball, illuminating the landscape. A figure moved between the apple orchard and the old cabin. Were kids stealing pumpkins? Kate ran from the room to check on Trudy.

The door to her room was closed as usual, and Kate flung it open. A wave of cold air slapped her in the face. Rubbing her arms, then turning on the light, she checked the bed. Empty. She crossed to the window. Shut. On her way through the kitchen, she snatched a flashlight from the counter then headed out the door. The figure still moved through the apple orchard. Kate flicked on the light and shone it toward the figure.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Trudy froze. She was dressed in an old robe, with her thin hair straggling over her shoulders.

With a shake of her head, Kate went to her.

“It’s too late to be wandering out here in the dark,” Kate said, reaching out for Trudy’s arm.

She skittered away, her feet shuffling in the fallen leaves. “I can’t find it,” she muttered.

“Find what?”

“The music box,” she said as she bent and brushed away the leaves at her feet. “I think she took it.”

Oh God, she’s got it in her head Gran stole it.

Kate laid a hand on her shoulder. “Gran didn’t take your music box,” Kate said in a calm voice. “Remember you took it back to your bedroom.”

Trudy straightened and gave her a sneer. “Not her,” she answered in a voice that hinted at Kate’s stupidity. “Hannah. The music box was Willie’s and she doesn’t want me to have it.”

In the light of the moon, Kate saw Trudy’s lips tighten in a mutinous line.

“But it’s mine. Joe’s grandfather gave it to me. He said he couldn’t trust that worthless man I married to hold the secret.”

Kate felt like slapping her forehead in frustration. “Trudy,” she said, trying to cut through the fog in Trudy’s mind, “Hannah’s been dead a long time.”

“You never have understood, have you?” Trudy asked with a sneer.

“Understand what? That you’re convinced the family’s cursed? Yeah,” Kate said sternly, “I do . . . Heaven knows you’ve told me about it often enough. I get it about Jacob roaming the earth, too.”

“Ha,” Trudy exclaimed, wagging a finger in Kate’s face. “Shows how much you know. It’s not Jacob, it’s her. It’s Hannah. She cursed this family and won’t rest until we’ve all paid.”

Kate took a deep breath and tried to gentle her voice. “Come on. Let’s go inside. It’s late and you should be in bed.”

Trudy moved farther away. “I want my music box.” Suddenly she whirled toward Kate with her eyes wide. “It’s you,” she cried. “ ‘The sins of the father.’ You brought this down on us. I told Joe you were like her, but he wouldn’t listen.” Her face crumpled. “Now he’s dead just like Jacob.”

“Trudy . . . please.”

She seemed to shrink before Kate’s eyes as she began to shuffle toward the house. “Hannah’s won,” she said, defeated.

Kate followed her into the house, but instead of heading for her bedroom, Trudy made for the parlor.

“I think you should go to bed now,” Kate called after her.

“I’m not sleeping in there—not tonight.”

“But you like your room.”

“I’m not sleeping with a dead man.”

Kate ran her fingers through her hair. “There’s no a dead man in your room.”

“Yes, there is,” she replied, casting a wild look at Kate over her shoulder. “Jacob—that’s where she stabbed him.”

With a groan, Kate returned to the kitchen and called Doc Adams.

While taking her shower the next morning, Kate let the hot water pound onto her tense shoulders. The episode with Trudy worried her.

Doc had been concerned, but not overly. In his opinion, Trudy was beginning to show signs of dementia. He’d suggested taking her to the hospital, but Trudy refused to go. By the time he’d finished his examination, she was no longer acting odd. He had warned Kate that these episodes might continue, and if she was determined to keep Trudy here, alarms should be installed on all the doors.

What should I do?
Kate turned and let the water cascade over her face. It wasn’t a problem to install the alarms; she’d pick them up today at the hardware store. But she didn’t know how to handle Trudy’s fixation with Hannah. Trudy had insisted Hannah had murdered Jacob, but everyone claimed that the killer had never been convicted. Did Trudy’s obsession stem from what she felt was a miscarriage of justice?

“Stop it,” Kate muttered to herself as she shut off the faucets. Will was right. She grabbed a towel and furiously dried off her body. She had enough to worry about without dwelling on the past.

Wrapping the towel around her, Kate stepped out of the shower and crossed to the sink. She picked up a hand towel to wipe the steam off the mirror, then stopped, the towel slipping from her fingers.

One word . . .
DANGER
. . . was written on the foggy mirror.

Kate cleaned the mirror in two angry swipes. She was beginning to suspect that Trudy was playing tricks on her. The confusion, the preoccupation with the music box and with Hannah—Trudy could be putting on an act in order to drive Kate out of the house.

“Humph,” she grumbled as she pulled a comb through her wet hair. “We’ll see about that.”

She hadn’t given Trudy the satisfaction of acknowledging the stunt pulled with the mirror. Kate dressed and left for the hardware store without engaging in a conversation.

It did trouble her, and she was not concentrating on her driving. She hit the brakes as a car turned in front of her, throwing everything in the backseat of the Jeep to the floor. Then as she approached the four-way stop at the edge of Dutton, she failed to come to a complete stop and rolled through the intersection. The next thing she knew, she heard the wail of a siren and saw the flash of lights in her rearview mirror.

Kate felt like pounding her head on the steering wheel as she pulled off onto the shoulder and came to a stop. Great—now she’d have a ticket. After turning off the ignition, Kate fumbled in her purse for her driver’s license, then removed her proof of insurance and her registration from the glove compartment. She couldn’t understand what was taking the officer so long to approach her car, and glanced up into the rearview mirror. When he finally did walk toward her, she noticed his right hand lingered in the vicinity of his weapon.

When he reached the Jeep, she rolled down the window and smiled. “Sorry, officer,” she said politely and began to reach for her license and documents.

“Hands on the wheel,” he said brusquely.

Perplexed, Kate did as he said and waited.

“You failed to stop.”

“I know . . . I wasn’t thinking.”

The officer peered into the backseat. “What’s that on the floor?”

Kate looked over her shoulder. “My jacket.”

“Would you step out of the car please.”

Again Kate did what he requested, standing nervously next to the Jeep.

“Do I have your verbal consent to search your car?” he asked, studying her reaction closely.

Kate’s temper rose. “Are you kidding me? On a traffic stop?”

“No, I’m not kidding, ma’am.” The sun glinted off his dark sunglasses, and Kate couldn’t read his expression.

“Sure,” she said with an angry wave of her hand. “Why not?”

“So I have your permission?”

Kate grudgingly nodded. “Yes.”

“Would you step to the front of the vehicle?” He opened the driver’s door and removed the keys, then moved to the left rear passenger door and opened it.

Kate leaned against the front of the Jeep and crossed her arms. This was ridiculous, she thought as she heard him rummaging around.

After a moment, she saw him remove a handkerchief from his pocket and, using it, he picked something up off the floor. He straightened, talked into the radio attached to his shoulder, and began to walk toward her. In one hand, he carried the handkerchief, while his other lingered on his sidearm.

After motioning her to stand in front of the Jeep, he placed the handkerchief on the hood, then unfolded it.

The silver blade of a long knife glimmered in the sunshine.

Kate’s mouth dropped open.

“I found this under the front seat.”

She snapped her jaws shut as the blood drained from her face. “
I’ve never seen that before,
” she cried.

“It’s not yours?”

“No!”

“You don’t know how it came to be in your car?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Did you know that a knife over five and a half inches long is considered a weapon?” he asked, rewrapping the knife.

“A w-weapon?” Kate stammered.

“Yes, and you had it concealed under the front seat.” His hand gripped his gun. “Please turn around and place your hands on the hood.”

“What?”

His hand tightened on the gun. “Do as I say, ma’am.”

Wordlessly, Kate turned and placed her hands on the hood. From behind her, using his foot, the officer nudged her feet apart.

Oh my God
— He was going to pat her down and arrest her. Kate’s knees trembled.

“Do you have any other weapons on your person?” he asked as his hands moved up and down her sides.

She shook her head mutely.

“Place your hands behind your back,” he said, keeping one hand on her shoulder.

Hot tears stung her eyes as she felt the handcuffs snap into place and the officer repeated the Miranda warning.

The drive to Flint Rapids and the county jail was the longest in Kate’s life. Her mind numbly refused to accept what was happening to her. Arrested and her car impounded. She swallowed hard.

Once they reached the jail, a garage door opened and the patrol car pulled in. It closed and the officer exited, then opened the door for Kate. He escorted her to another door. After it buzzed loudly, he opened it and they entered a hallway with another door at the end. The first door clanged shut, then the buzzer on the second went off. The procedure happened four more times as the officer led Kate deeper into the bowels of the jail.

With each buzz, with each clanging shut of the door, Kate’s nerves stretched, until she felt like a quivering mass of jelly. When they reached a room with a high counter, he unlocked a small cell in the corner and motioned her inside. After removing the handcuffs, he shut the door and locked it. Kate stared up at him blankly.

“There’s the phone,” he said, pointing to the wall.

Sinking down on the small bench, Kate wrapped her arms around herself and bent forward. Nausea swirled through her belly as she heard the officer say “aggravated weapons charge” to the man standing behind the counter.

Oh my God, oh my God, rolled through her brain as she sat there trembling. With a shaky hand, she picked up the phone and dialed Rose’s number.

“Please answer . . . please answer,” she prayed softly as she listened to the phone ring.

“Hello,” sounded Rose’s voice in her ear.

“Rose,” she cried while tears spilled down her face. “I’ve been
arrested
—”

“
What!
” Rose shouted over the phone.

“They pulled me over—they found a knife—it’s not mine. I—I . . .” Kate stammered, words continuing to rush out of her mouth.

“Kate, Kate, slow down. Tell me what happened.”

Quickly, Kate related the events leading up to her arrest.

“You’re at the jail in Flint Rapids?”

“Y-Y-Yes.”

“Have they booked you yet?”

“No.”

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Rose said gently. “We’ll get this straightened out. I’ll call an attorney and we’ll get him over there as soon as possible.”

“What should I do?”

“Hang in there. Cooperate, but don’t volunteer any information until you have a chance to speak with the attorney, okay?”

“Okay.” Kate wiped her face. “Rose, I’m scared,” she said in a hushed voice.

“Don’t worry. There’s been a mistake and we’ll fix it,” Rose assured her. “I’m going to hang up now, so I can call the attorney.”

Reluctantly, Kate replaced the receiver.

A few minutes later, another officer unlocked the cell and handed Kate a bundle of orange clothing.

“You can change in there,” he said, indicating a small room next to the cell.

Once inside, Kate’s fingers trembled as she tried to unbutton her shirt. Finally, she managed to dress in the jail clothing, then she was returned to the waiting cell. Time crawled by until they were ready to fingerprint her and take her photograph. She went through the process as if she were sleepwalking. Part of her brain accepted the reality, but another part refused.

When one of the officers started to lead her down the hall, every fiber of her being screamed
Run!
but she knew there was no escape. He led her to a small room instead of a jail cell, and Kate’s eyes widened in surprise when she saw Detective Shepherd waiting for her.