Witness (3 page)

How could she allow him to stay in her home? How could she endure watching him with Allen, knowing they were father and son?

Was there some way she could respect her mother's wishes and still keep the truth from Ashe?

“Let's understand something up front,” Deborah said, facing him, steeling herself not to show any emotion. “I don't want you here. I had hoped I'd never see you again as long as I lived. If I agree to your acting as my bodyguard until the end of the the trial, to please Mother, you must promise me, here and now,
that once I am no longer in any danger, you'll leave Sheffield and never return.”

“Do you honestly think I'd want to stay?”

“Promise me.”

“I don't have to promise you anything. I don't owe you anything.” He glared at her, into those bright, still innocent-looking blue eyes and wanted to grab her and shake her until her teeth rattled. Who the hell did she think she was, giving him orders, demanding promises from him?

“You're still as stubborn, as bullheaded, as aggravating as you ever were,” she said.

“Guilty as charged.” He wanted to shout at her, to tell her she seemed to be the same little girl who wanted her own way. But this time she couldn't go running to Daddy. This time Wallace Vaughn couldn't force him to leave town. Nobody could. Most certainly not Deborah.

“We seem to be at an impasse.”

“No, we're not. Once I settle in, pay a few visits on family and get the lay of the land, so to speak, you're stuck with me for the duration.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he shook his head. “I won't promise you anything, but I can tell you this, I don't intend to stay in Alabama one day longer than necessary. And while I'm here, you don't have anything to fear from me. My purpose is to protect you, not harm you.”

They stared at each other, face-to-face, two determined people, neither giving an inch. Finally Deborah nodded, then looked away.

“Dinner is at six-thirty, if you care to join us,” she said.

“Fine. I'll be back from Mama Mattie's before then.” Ashe hesitated momentarily, overwhelmed with a need to ask Deborah why. Why had she gone running to her daddy eleven years ago? Had his rejection made her hate him that much?

“I'll have Mazie prepare you a room, if Mother hasn't already seen to it.”

“Thanks.” There was no reason to wait, no reason to keep
looking at her, to continue wondering exactly what it was about this woman that had made her so unforgettable. He tried to smile, but the effort failed, so he turned and walked back inside the house.

Deborah balled her hands into fists. Taking and releasing a deep breath, she said a silent prayer, asking God to keep them all safe and to protect Allen from the truth. A truth she had kept hidden in her heart since the day he was born, since the day she agreed to allow her son to be raised as her brother.

A
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SHE DROVE
his rental car up Montgomery Avenue, into the downtown area of Sheffield, he noticed the new businesses, mostly restaurants—Louisiana, Milestones and New Orleans Transfer. Come what may, Southerners were going to eat well. Mama Mattie's homespun philosophy had always been that if folks spent their money on good food, they wouldn't need to spend it on a doctor.

Mama Mattie. How he loved that old woman. She was probably the only person he'd ever truly loved. The only person who had ever really loved him. He could barely remember a time during his growing up years when he hadn't lived with her. He had faint memories of living in a trailer out in Leighton. Before he'd started school. Before his daddy had caught his mama in bed with another man and shot them both.

The courts had sentenced JoJo McLaughlin to life in prison, and that's where he'd died, seven years later.

Mama Mattie had tried to protect Ashe from the ugly truth, from the snide remarks of unthinking adults and the vicious taunts of his schoolmates. But his grandmother had been powerless to protect him from the reality of class distinction, from the social snobbery and inbred attitudes of elite families, like the Vaughns, for whom she worked.

If he'd had a lick of sense, he would have stayed in his place and been content to work at the service station during the day and at the country club as a busboy on weekend nights. But no, Ashe McLaughlin, that bad boy who'd come from white trash outlaws, had wanted to better himself. It didn't matter to anyone
that he graduated salutatorian of his high school class or that he attended the University of North Alabama on an academic scholarship. He still wasn't good enough to associate with the
right people.

He had thought Whitney Vaughn cared about him, that their passionate affair would end in marriage. He'd been a fool. But he'd been an even bigger fool to trust sweet little Deborah, who professed to be his friend, who claimed she would love him until the day she died.

Crossing the railroad tracks, Ashe turned off Shop Pike and drove directly to Mama Mattie's neat frame house.

When he stepped out of the car, he saw her standing in the doorway, tall, broad-shouldered, her white hair permed into a halo of curls around her lean face.

He had sent her money over the years. Wrote her occasionally. Called her on her birthday and holidays. Picked up special gifts for her from around the world. She had asked him to come home a few times during the first couple of years after he joined the army, but she'd finally quit asking.

She wrote him faithfully, once a month, always thanking him for his kindness, assuring him she and Annie Laurie were well. Sometimes she'd mention that Miss Carol had dropped by for a visit, and told him what a precious little boy Allen Vaughn was. But she never mentioned Deborah. It was as if she knew he couldn't bear for her name to be mentioned.

Mattie Trotter opened the storm door, walked out onto the front porch and held open her arms. Ashe's slow, easy gait picked up speed as he drew closer to his grandmother. Taking the steps two at a time, he threw his arms around Mama Mattie, lifting her off her feet.

“Put me down, you silly boy! You'll throw out your back picking me up.” All the while she scolded, she smiled, that warm, loving smile Ashe well remembered from his childhood.

Placing her on her feet, he slipped his arm around her waist,
hugging her to his side. She lacked only a few inches being as tall as he was. “It's so good to see you again, Mama Mattie.”

“Come on inside.” She opened the storm door. “I've made those tea cakes you always loved, and only a few minutes ago, I put on a fresh pot of that expensive coffee you sent me from Atlanta.”

Ashe glanced around the living room. Small, not more than twelve by fourteen. A tan sofa, arms and cushions well-worn, sat against the picture window, a matching chair to the left. The new plaid recliner Ashe had sent her for Christmas held a fat, gray cat, who stared up at Ashe with complete disinterest.

“That's Annie Laurie's Mr. Higgins. She's spoiled him rotten,” Mattie said. “But to be honest, I'm pretty fond of him myself. Sit down, Ashe, sit down.”

He sat beside her on the sofa. She clasped his hands. “There were times when I wondered if I'd ever see you again. I'm an old woman and only God knows how much longer I'm going to be in this world.”

“Don't talk like that. You'll live to be a hundred.”

Releasing his hands, she looked directly into his eyes. “Have you seen Deborah?”

“Yeah, Mama Mattie, I've seen Deborah Vaughn.”

“She turned out to be a beautiful woman, didn't she?”

“She was always beautiful, just not…not finished.”

“Miss Carol looks bad, doesn't she?” Mattie shook her head sadly. “That bout she had with cancer a while back took its toll on her. She's in remission now, but we all live in fear she'll have a relapse.”

“She aged more than I'd expected,” Ashe said, recalling how incredibly lovely Carol Vaughn had once been. “But nothing else has changed about her. She's still a very kind lady.”

“So is Deborah.”

“Don't!” Ashe stood abruptly, turning his back on his
grandmother, not wanting to hear her defend the woman who had been responsible for having him run out of town eleven years ago.

Mattie sighed. “I still say you judged her wrong. She was just a child. Seventeen. You rejected all that sweet, young love she felt for you. If she went to her daddy the way you think she did, then you shouldn't hold it against her. My God, boy, you took her innocence and then told her you didn't want her.”

“It wasn't like that and you damn well know it.” Ashe needed to hit something, smash anything into a zillion pieces. He hated remembering what he'd done and what his stupidity had cost him.

“Don't you swear at me, boy.” Mattie narrowed her eyes, giving her grandson a killing look.

“I'm sorry, Mama Mattie, but I didn't come by to see you so we could have that old argument about Deborah Vaughn.” Ashe headed toward the kitchen. “Where are those tea cakes?”

Mattie followed him, busying herself with pouring coffee into brown ceramic mugs while Ashe devoured three tea cakes in quick succession. He pulled out a metal and vinyl chair and sat down at the table.

“They taste just the same. As good as I remember.”

He would never forget walking into the Vaughns' kitchen after school every day, laying his books on the table and raiding Mama Mattie's tea cake tray. More often than not, he and Annie Laurie rode home with Miss Carol when she picked up Deborah and Whitney from school.

Whitney had ignored him as much as possible, often complaining to her aunt that she thought it disgraceful they had to be seen with
those children.
He supposed her haughty attitude had given him more reason to want to bring her down to his level, and eventually he'd done just that. He hadn't been Whitney's first, but he hadn't cared. She'd been hot and eager and he'd thought she really loved him.

All the while he'd been drooling over Whitney, he hadn't missed the way Deborah stared at him, those big blue eyes of hers filled with undisguised adoration.

“Thinking about those afternoons in the Vaughn kitchen?” Mattie asked.

“What is it with you and Miss Carol? Both of you seem determined to resurrect some sort of romance between Deborah and me.” Ashe lifted the coffee mug to his lips, sipped the delicious brew and held his mug in his hand. “Deborah and I were never sweethearts. We weren't in love. I liked her and she had a big teenage crush on me. That's all there ever was to it. So tell me what's going on?”

“Neither one of you has ever gotten married.”

“Are you saying you'd like to see me married to Deborah?” Ashe's laughter combined a snicker, a chuckle and a groan. “It's never going to happen. Not in a million years. Wherever did you get such a crazy idea?”

“You came back home when Miss Carol called and told you that Deborah was in trouble, that her life was in danger,” Mattie said. “In eleven years nothing I've said or done could persuade you to return. And don't try to tell me that you came back because of Miss Carol. You could have sent another man from that private security place where you work. You didn't have to come yourself and we both know it.”

“Miss Carol asked for me, personally. I knew how sick she'd been. You've told me again and again that you were afraid she might die.”

“So knowing Buck Stansell is probably out to stop Deborah from testifying didn't have anything to do with your coming home? You don't care what happens to her?”

“I didn't say I don't care. I wouldn't want anything to happen to her.” When Miss Carol had first telephoned him and explained the situation, his blood had run cold at the thought of anyone harming Deborah. Despite what she'd done to him, he couldn't help remembering the sweet, generous, loving girl he'd
known since she was a small child. He had thought she didn't matter to him, that he didn't even hate her anymore. But he'd been wrong. He cared. He cared too damned much. Now that he'd seen Deborah again, he was worried that he couldn't act as her bodyguard and keep their relationship on a purely business level. And that could be dangerous for both of them. If he was smart, he'd call Sam Dundee and tell him to put another agent on the first available flight out of Atlanta.

But where Deborah Vaughn was concerned, he'd never been smart. Not when he had ignored her to pay court to her older cousin. Not when he'd accepted her comfort and love when Whitney had rejected him. And not when he'd been certain she would never betray him to anyone, least of all her father.

Mattie poured herself a second cup of coffee, broke a tea cake in two and popped half into her mouth. Chewing slowly, she watched Ashe. When he turned around and caught her staring at him, he smiled.

“All right. I admit it. Part of the reason I agreed to Miss Carol's request was because I don't want to see anything happen to Deborah. There. I said it. Are you satisfied?”

Mattie grinned, showing her perfect, white dentures. “You ought to go have a talk with Lee Roy and Johnny Joe. They're working for Buck Stansell, you know.”

“Yeah, I figured as much, since their daddy and mine were both part of that gang years ago, along with Buck's daddy.”

“Well, I don't trust Johnny Joe, but I always saw something in Lee Roy that made me think he was a mite better than that bunch of trash he came from.”

“Hey, watch what you're saying, Mama Mattie. You're talking about my family.” Ashe grinned.

“Your daddy's family, not mine, and not yours. I think Johnny Joe took after his daddy and his Uncle JoJo, where Lee Roy reminds me a bit of your daddy's sister. She wasn't such a bad girl. She and your mama always got along.”

“You think Lee Roy and Johnny Joe know something about the threats against Deborah?” Ashe asked.

“Can't nobody prove nothing, but folks know that Buck Stansell was behind that killing Deborah witnessed. Whoever's been sending her those notes and making those phone calls, you can bet your bottom dollar that Buck's behind it all.”

“What do you know about this Lon Sparks? I don't remember him.”

“No reason you should. He showed up around these parts a few years back. I hear he come up from Corinth with a couple of other guys that Buck recruited when he expanded his drug dealings.”

“How do you know so much, old woman?” Ashe laid his hand over his grandmother's where it rested beside her coffee cup.

“Everybody hears things. I hear things. At the beauty shop. At the grocery store. At church.”

“After I've settled in and made my presence known, I'll take a ride out to Leighton and see how my cousins are doing.”

“You be careful, Ashe. Buck Stansell isn't the kind of man to roll over and play dead just because Deborah's got herself a bodyguard.”

“Don't you worry. I'm not stupid enough to underestimate Buck. I remember him and his old man. I've come up against their type all over the world.”

“While you're taking care of Deborah and Miss Carol and that precious little Allen, make sure you take care of yourself, too.” Mattie squeezed her grandson's big hand.

The back door swung open and a tall, thin young woman in a sedate gray pantsuit walked in and stopped dead still when she saw Ashe.

“Oh, my goodness, it's really you!” Annie Laurie threw herself into Ashe's arms. “Mama Mattie said you'd come home, but I wasn't so sure. You've been away forever and ever.”

Mr. Higgins sneaked into the kitchen, staring up at Annie Laurie, purring lightly.

Ashe held his cousin at arm's length, remembering the first time he'd seen her. She'd been a skinny eight-year-old whose parents had been killed in an automobile accident. Mama Mattie, Annie Laurie's mother's aunt, had been the child's closest relative and hadn't hesitated to open her home and heart to the girl, just as she had done for Ashe. “Here, let me have a good look at you. My, my. You sure have grown. And into a right pretty young lady.”

Blushing, Annie Laurie shoved her slipping glasses back up her nose. “You haven't seen me since I was thirteen.”

Hearing a car exit the driveway, Ashe glanced out the window in time to see a black Mercedes backing up, a familiar-looking redheaded guy driving.

“Your boyfriend bring you home from work?” Ashe asked.

Annie Laurie's pink cheeks flamed bright red. She cast her gaze down toward the floor, then bent over, picked up Mr. Higgins and held him in her arms.

“Stop teasing the girl,” Mattie said.

“He's not your boyfriend?” Ashe lifted her chin.

“He's my boss.”

“Your boss?”

“That was Neil Posey,” Mattie said. “You remember him. He's Archie Posey's son. He's partners with Deborah in their daddies' real estate firm.”