Confessing to the Cowboy (8 page)

“Okay,” Matt replied although it was obvious he would have liked to continue to campaign for the pooch. “I need to go to the bathroom,” he said instead. “I’ll be right back.” He scooted from the booth and disappeared down the hallway to the restrooms.

Mary watched him go and then leaned back in her chair with a sigh. “He’s never asked for a dog before. He’s never even asked for a lizard or a hamster.”

Cameron smiled at her. “Ah, the charms of Ms. Twinkie.” His smile faded and he looked at her seriously. “Just let me know how you want me to play it. I can discourage the whole dog thing if you want me to.”

“Thanks.” She flashed him a grateful smile in return. “To tell the truth, I’m not sure if I’m altogether against the idea. I never considered that Matt might get lonely when he’s in the back of the café playing video games and watching television alone while I’m busy in the front. I suddenly feel like I’ve missed something, a loneliness, that he’s been feeling and I haven’t realized.”

“Mary,” Cameron reached across the table and covered her hand with his. Electric shocks zinged through her at his touch. So warm, so comforting, his big hand smothered hers with gentle care. “Mary, you’re a great mom, and Matt is a great kid and you shouldn’t beat yourself up about anything where he’s concerned.” He pulled his hand from hers and she was stunned by how much she wanted him to touch her again.

At that moment Matt came bounding back to the table and the conversation turned to what kind of ice cream went with which kind of cake.

“Chunky cherry ice cream and chocolate cake,” Mary said.

“My favorite is rocky road ice cream over vanilla cake,” Cameron replied.

Matt shrugged and grinned. “I just like cake and ice cream.”

After the meal was finished they returned to Cameron’s kitchen where he presented Matt with a cake big enough to feed a small army.

“Wow,” Matt exclaimed, his attention torn between the cake holding his name in fancy red icing script and Twinkie who pawed at his leg in an effort to wind up in his arms. “Not now, Twinkie, we have to let Mom decide if you’re going to come home with us.” He slid a pleading look to Mary.

“I’m still thinking,” Mary replied, her brow furrowed as if in deep thought.

“And I’ve heard that women always think better with chocolate,” Cameron said as he slid a piece of chocolate cake before her.

“Maybe you better have two big pieces,” Matt said to his mother, making both Mary and Cameron laugh.

When they finished with the cake and ice cream, Matt and Twinkie went into the living room to play and Cameron and Mary lingered over coffee.

“Are you sure you’re really ready to part with Twinkie?” she asked.

He smiled. “She’s definitely a charmer and I’ve grown attached to her, but that dog needs a boy, not somebody like me who is almost never home. Are you sure you’re ready to take on a Twinkie?”

She laughed. “No, I’m not at all sure.” She looked into the living room where Matt lay on his back on the floor, Twinkie on his chest like a wrestling victor. “But Matt seems crazy about her.”

“I’ll tell you what, Twinkie comes with a return policy. If things don’t work out with Matt and Twinkie you can return the dog here and I’ll try to make other arrangements.”

“That’s very nice.”

He leaned forward slightly, just enough that she could smell his woodsy cologne. “I’ve been trying to tell you for the past eight years that I’m a very nice man, Mary.”

His eyes were soft and more green than brown. The kitchen suddenly felt very small with too little oxygen to sustain breath. She jumped up from the table and carried her cake dish to the sink. “We need to get home. It’s getting late. How long will it take you to get together all Twinkie’s things?”

“About three minutes.” He got up from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

True to his words, about three minutes later there were several bags next to the door along with a four-poster bed. “Don’t let the bed fool you,” he said to an ecstatic Matt who had, minutes before, told Mary she was the best mom in the entire universe. “She won’t sleep in it. She likes to sleep in a people bed, curled up against their feet.”

“Awesome, my feet always get cold during the night,” Matt replied.

Mary grinned at her son. “You’ve never complained of cold feet before. Why don’t you get this stuff loaded into the car and we’ll head home. It’s getting late.”

Matt quickly pulled on his jacket and headed out the front door, a bag filled with dog food and dishes in one hand, the four-poster bed in the other.

“You’ve made this a birthday for him to remember,” Mary said as she turned to face Cameron.

“You’re the one who agreed to Twinkie,” he replied. “But I will say this, I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed a day as much as this one.”

“It has been nice,” Mary replied, afraid of where this conversation might lead. Would he ask her out again? Part of her wanted to believe that she could at least spend some alone, quality time with Cameron without putting herself at risk, but the other, bigger part of her was so afraid. She’d been so afraid for so long.

Before he could say anything more, Matt returned. As he picked up Twinkie, Mary grabbed what appeared to be a bagful of Twinkie’s clothing. With thanks and goodbyes, within minutes she and Matt were in the car and headed back to the café.

“This has been the most awesome birthday ever,” he said, cuddling Twinkie close in his arms.

“You’ll only take her outside through the back door, never through the café. You’re responsible for seeing that she goes outside at least four times a day.”

“I know, I know, Mom. She’s my responsibility and don’t you worry about a thing, I’ll take care of her. You won’t have to do anything except maybe love her just a little bit.” Twinkie barked, her big brown eyes focused on her.

Mary smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll fall in love with the mutt. I won’t be able to help myself.”

The entire drive back Matt talked about three things, how awesome Cameron and his mother were, how great the day had been and how much he already loved his new dog.

It was almost closing time when they finally pulled into the café lot and parked. Few cars remained at this time of night and Mary realized she was exhausted as she got out of the car.

Spending time with Cameron had been heavenly, but she’d been tense, on guard off and on during the whole time. Now she was just ready to close up the café, get Matt settled in with his new little friend and go to bed.

Rusty stood behind the counter as they walked in. One of his bushy eyebrows raised when he saw the dog that Matt carried. “Must have been some birthday celebration,” he said. “I was wondering what happened to Twinkie with Dorothy gone and all.”

“Now you know,” Mary said. She looked at her son. “Take Twinkie to the back and get him all settled in.”

Matt didn’t need to be asked twice. He disappeared into their living quarters with the dog tucked safely in one arm and the bag with food and dishes slung over the other.

“How’d things go here?” Mary asked as she set the little dog bed on the floor and placed the bag with clothing on top of the counter.

“Busy afternoon and evening, but everything ran smoothly,” Rusty replied. He nodded toward two couples seated at a four-topper. “Once they’re finished, I’ll shut down the place. You go on back and relax. I’ve got things under control here.”

“Thanks, Rusty.” She smiled at him gratefully. He was the one person she’d depended on throughout the last five years and he’d never let her down.

He’d shown up at the café one spring day driving a rusted-out pickup and looking for a job as a cook. He definitely appeared to be a man down on his luck and Mary had decided to give him a chance. It was one of the best decisions she’d ever made when it came to the café. Rusty might look like a boxer, but he cooked like a well-trained chef.

“Before you go, this came in the mail today.” He reached beneath the counter and held up a box. “It’s addressed to Matt. I figured it’s a birthday present for him.”

“Thanks, I’ll take it back to him and I’ll just say good-night.” She grabbed everything and carried it back to her living room. She set the brown box on their small kitchen table and then took the little doggie four-poster and the clothes to Matt’s room where he was playing with Twinkie in the middle of his bed.

“You have a package on the table,” she said as she placed the little doggie bed next to his. “Probably one of your friends sent you a present.”

“Awesome.” Matt bounded off the bed, Twinkie at his heels and went to the table where the package awaited. Wrapped in plain brown paper, the postmark was Grady Gulch and the return address was the café. Maybe one of the waitresses had sent it, Mary thought.

Matt tore the paper off the box and then ripped the tape and opened the lid and frowned.

“What is it?” Mary asked, moving closer.

His frown deepened into a touch of confusion. “It’s a stuffed animal.” He reached inside and pulled out a stuffed green frog wearing a small gold crown.

Mary’s heart plummeted to the floor as she stared at the frog...the exact frog that her husband had brought to her in the hospital on the day that Matt had been born.

Gonna take more than a stuffed frog to turn that kid into a prince,
he said, his eyes gleaming with a proprietarily light that had nothing to do with pride and made her slightly sick to her stomach.

But he was dead. She’d seen to that. So, who else had known about the frog? A shiver raised the tiny hairs on her arms and waltzed up her spine with agonizing ice.

“There’s no card or anything,” Matt said, pulling her back from the terror that threatened to consume her. “It’s nice that somebody thought of my birthday, but it’s a little bit babyish.”

“You’re right, you’re a little old for stuffed animals,” Mary said, grateful her voice betrayed none of her inner turmoil. “Why don’t we put it on the top shelf in your closet and maybe at school on Monday some friend will tell you it came from him.”

“Sounds good,” Matt replied and then stifled a yawn. “I think I’ll take Twinkie out for a fast walk and then maybe we’ll go to bed.”

“How about we both take Twinkie outside,” Mary suggested, suddenly afraid to let Matt out of her sight. They hooked a small leash onto Twinkie’s jeweled collar and left by the back door that led to the four cabins behind the café.

As she watched her son and the tiny dog walking the area, her head whirled with possibilities and suppositions. They all led back to the same time and place of terror.

The anniversary card...the prince frog...the dead waitresses...somehow they were all tied together. She knew with a horrifying certainty that they were all linked to her.

She could pack their things, take the money from the cash register, the stash she kept in her closet and they could disappear. She’d done it before, she could do it again...go far away and start all over.

A new town...a new name...an aura of safety.

She watched Matt through a veil of sudden tears, his laughter at Twinkie’s antics like a dagger through her heart. The last time she’d run away, she’d easily uprooted a two-year-old.

This time she’d be tearing an eleven-year-old from his school, his friends and the only home he’d ever known for the uncertainty of a life on the run. She couldn’t do it again. She loved Matt too much to pick up and run. Her sins had finally caught up with her and she realized she was tired of running, and besides, Matt deserved more than that kind of a life.

She quickly swiped the tears from her eyes as Matt and Twinkie came bounding back to her. “All done,” Matt said proudly, like a new parent. He picked up Twinkie in his arms. “And now I think we’re ready for bed.”

It took a half an hour for Matt to take a shower and change into his pajamas. While he was doing that Mary sat on the edge of his bed and played with the little Chihuahua mix who had already stolen her son’s heart.

A little over an hour later Mary stood in Matt’s doorway, watching him sleep with Twinkie curled up at his feet. Grief ripped through her, crushing her heart and twisting her insides like a well-wrung washrag.

Maybe the frog really had come from a school friend of Matt’s. Or maybe one of the waitresses had left it for him, finding the frog silly and cute and thinking of him as Mary’s little prince.

She tried to cling to that tiny ray of hope but it could find no purchase in her cold, frightened heart.

She knew the truth. Somebody had found her. Somehow her past had finally caught up with her.

Tomorrow was Sunday and Matt had a playdate at Jimmy’s house. Even though Sundays were busy in the café, at the moment business was the last thing on her mind.

Tomorrow she’d call Cameron and tell him the truth about herself, about her past. It would be one of the most difficult things she’d ever done, but she knew now that it had to be done.

Tomorrow life as she knew it would end, and she stifled a sob with the back of her hand as she worried that, once she spoke with Cameron, once she spilled her secrets, she’d never see her son again.

Chapter 6

T
o say that Cameron was having a bad morning was a vast understatement. He’d awakened just before dawn, his thoughts not only filled with moments of the day he’d spent with Matt and Mary, but also with worries about the unsolved murders.

It hadn’t been the warmth of thoughts of Mary and Matt that had driven him out of bed, but rather the haunting of the dead and his frustration with the lack of leads in the case. He could only hope that somebody on his team had come up with something yesterday while he’d been off duty, although he knew that if any real leads had been discovered somebody would have called him.

It was just after six when he got to the office. He holed himself up in the small room with a fresh cup of coffee, a stale donut left in a box from the night crew and the files of the three murders he desperately wanted to solve.

Candy Bailey had died in one of the cabins behind Mary’s café. For a long time Cameron had believed her boyfriend, Kevin Naperson, was guilty despite the fact that his father had alibied him for the night and time in question. Even when Shirley Cook had wound up dead, Cameron had wondered if Kevin was responsible, attempting to take the heat off himself for Candy’s murder by killing another woman he had no ties to.

But Dorothy’s death had put a whole new spin on things. There was no way he believed Kevin Naperson had the calculation and cunning that this killer had displayed. There was no way Cameron believed he was chasing a young adult who wasn’t that smart to begin with. Kevin was simply an unfortunate young man dating a woman at the wrong time.

Cameron also didn’t believe that this was the first time his killer had killed. He was simply too good at it and showed no signs of deteriorating or losing control.

He ate the cinnamon-covered donut, hoping for a sugar rush that would get him through another long day, then leaned back in his chair and took a sip of the strong brew, wishing it could magically infuse his brain with some answers.

They were still running background checks on some of the newer people in town, but that didn’t mean the killer wasn’t a native of Grady Gulch. Besides, no matter how many tools you had at your fingertips, thorough background checks took both time and manpower and ultimately the sanction of a friendly judge.

A knock on his door surprised him as he looked at his watch. Only six-thirty. The door opened and Ben Temple poked his head inside.

Cameron motioned him in. “A little early, isn’t it, Deputy Temple?”

“For you, too,” Ben replied. He eased down in the chair opposite Cameron and swiped a hand through his short, curly dark hair. “I’ve been having bad dreams. Sleep isn’t so pleasant right now.”

“I hear you,” Cameron agreed, thinking of the images that haunted his dreams when he closed his eyes at night. He reared back in his chair and shoved the files he’d been staring at to the side. “So, what did I miss yesterday?”

“We all worked on doing as many background checks as possible and reinterviewed some of the people that we initially talked to with the original two crimes. Nothing much came from those interviews, but I did find out something very interesting about one of our newer members in town.”

“Who?” Cameron leaned forward.

“Thomas Manning. Apparently seven years ago he lived in Oklahoma City and was married to a woman named Nancy.” Ben’s blue eyes gleamed with the first spark Cameron had seen there for a long time. “Guess what Mrs. Manning did for a living?”

“She was a waitress,” Cameron replied, his heart beating just a little bit faster.

Ben nodded. “She worked as a waitress at a truck stop on the north side of the city. Thomas was an English professor at one of the community colleges. Anyway, apparently serving up burgers wasn’t all Nancy was doing while she was at work in the evenings. One night she left a note for Thomas and told him she had fallen in love with a truck driver and was taking off over the road with him. Thomas and Nancy divorced soon after she left town.”

Cameron raised his elbows to the desk and steepled his fingers thoughtfully. “This definitely makes Thomas a person of interest.” He dropped his hands to the files he’d pushed aside moments before. “How do you feel about a road trip?”

Ben shrugged. “Footloose and fancy-free, you know that’s me. Just tell me where to go and what to do.”

“Why don’t you plan to spend the next couple of days in Oklahoma City? See if you can find any of Manning’s coworkers at the college, maybe talk to people who knew both him and Nancy. Also talk to local law enforcement and see if there were ever any domestic calls to their residence, find out if any women working as waitresses anywhere there have met untimely deaths. Also, see if you can find out what happened to Nancy after she left with her truck-driver lover.”

Ben nodded. “You mean find out if she’s still among the living.”

“Exactly,” Cameron replied.

“But this could be the break we’ve been looking for, right?”

Cameron hesitated a moment and stared at the wall just over Ben’s shoulder. “It could be. But it could also mean nothing, just one of those odd coincidences that sometimes haunt a case. I mean, why here? Why now? If his wife left him five or six years ago, then why would he move to a small town and start killing waitresses now?” He looked back at Ben. “Maybe you can find those answers in Oklahoma City.”

Ben rose, as if eager to get going. “I’ll find out everything I can and will check in with you by phone as soon as I get any answers.”

“You should be able to get it all done by Wednesday. That gives you two days to dig, so I’ll expect you to check back in here sometime Wednesday late afternoon.”

As Ben left the office, Cameron reached for his coffee once again, his thoughts whirling. Was this the break they’d been waiting for? He didn’t want to get his hopes up. Right now all they had was a man whose ex-wife worked as a waitress and nothing at all to tie Thomas to the murders.

He couldn’t put all his eggs in one basket. He still wanted to check out Denver Walton for no other reason than he spent a lot of time at the café, had acted out with Mary when she hadn’t given him a job and had some sort of new financial support that didn’t include Maddy Billings.

Despite Mary’s protests of Rusty’s innocence in all this, Cameron also planned on checking out the cook’s background. Five years ago when Mary had bought the café from the previous elderly owner Rusty had appeared out of nowhere, a loner...a drifter who had decided to stay in town after Mary had given him the job as head cook.

Few people knew anything about him, but the one thing everyone did know was that Rusty had a temper...a legendary bad temper. He had the opportunity to know the waitresses better than anyone else. He would know about their hours, their social lives and who was vulnerable and who wasn’t.

It was possible the waitresses who had been killed hadn’t played nice with the tough, demanding cook. With some action or another they might have pushed Rusty into a fit of rage that had ultimately ended in their deaths.

At eight o’clock Cameron met with the rest of his men to plan the duties for the day, which basically consisted of them completing the interviews and background checks he’d already set into motion.

Discouragement hung heavily in the conference room where they all met. It had been almost a full week since Dorothy had been found dead and each of them knew that the more time that passed, the less the odds of finding any clues to the killer.

It was just after nine when Cameron dismissed the group after giving them a pep talk he didn’t even believe himself. When the conference room was empty, Cameron remained, his shoulders tight with tension and a headache attempting to grab hold of his forehead.

Had Ben stumbled upon a real clue? Had Thomas Manning moved to town for a new beginning and harbored a killer rage directed toward any waitress? Had his wife’s betrayal burned in his gut until it had finally exploded?

The next logical step was to bring Manning in for questioning, but Cameron was reluctant to do so until he heard back from Ben. Information was power, and the more information Ben could gather about the man, the more power Cameron would have to interrogate Manning and hopefully break him if he was guilty. The idea of a neat-and-tidy confession was the only thing that eased Cameron’s headache.

He finally left the building, needing to walk and think. The streets were fairly deserted, most people either at church or opting to stay home and out of the blustery wind and frigid temperature. Thanksgiving was still a little over two weeks away, but it felt as if it were January.

They could not only use a break in the case, but a snap in this cold streak would be nice, as well. He pulled his collar up closer around his neck as he began a trek down the sidewalk. As he passed each storefront he paused to wave at whoever was inside, knowing that his presence on the streets just made people feel safer.

It was a false sense of security, not just for the people he served, but also for himself. He was conscious of the possibility that one of the people he waved to during the day might be the same person who was skulking around in the dead of night seeking a vulnerable woman to kill.

Just because Thomas Manning’s wife had been a waitress who’d left him didn’t mean he was the killer. Once again he reminded himself to check with his men to make sure they were checking into all the waitresses’ husbands and significant others to make sure that nobody had an issue with their spouse working at the Cowboy Café.

There were cases where motive wasn’t necessarily a big issue, but in these particular murders Cameron couldn’t help but think if he could just figure out the motive he’d be much closer to identifying the guilty.

His cell phone jangled from his coat pocket and he pulled it out to see Mary’s number displayed. He frowned. Although he’d like to think she was just calling to hear his voice, maybe to thank him again for spending yesterday with them, he knew she had to be calling for something less personal. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time she’d called him...if ever.

“Mary?” he answered.

“Hi, Cameron. I was wondering if you could come by the café right now.”

Her voice sounded higher pitched than usual, strained as he’d never heard it before. “Sure. Is something wrong?”

There was a long hesitation and for a moment he thought the call had been dropped or she’d hung up. Just when he was about to hang up and call her back, she spoke, her voice a mere whisper.

“I need to talk to you. I think I might have some information that can help you in the investigation.”

Adrenaline pumped through him. “What kind of information?”

“I’ll talk to you when you get here.” She clicked off.

Cameron pocketed his phone and headed back to the office where his car was parked. Information? What kind of information could she possibly have now that she hadn’t had yesterday?

And why had she sounded so stressed? As if she were afraid not just of some unknown entity, but of him, as well?

* * *

Nervous tension paced Mary back and forth in her small living room, eating at her insides as she contemplated what she was about to do.

She was on the verge of destroying everything she’d worked so hard for over the past eight years. She would lose the café, the respect of everyone here in town, but worse than all of that, she was about to put herself in a position to lose her son forever.

She choked on a sob and swallowed it, knowing she had to be strong. She would not only have to be strong for herself, but also for Matt, who wouldn’t understand, who wouldn’t remember who and what they’d escaped so very long ago.

Although telling Cameron all of her secrets was the very last thing she wanted to do, she knew it was the right thing to do, the best thing she could do for her son and for the town they’d grown to love.

At least she could assure Matt a good future with somebody who cared about him. And, hopefully, someday Matt would be mature enough, understanding enough, to find forgiveness for her and her past actions someplace in his heart.

She finally sank down on the sofa, grateful that Matt was at Jimmy’s and Rusty was in charge of the café. Maybe after Cameron heard her story, he would lead her out of here through the back door, handcuffed with her head hanging in shame.

She straightened her slender shoulders and drew in a deep breath. No, not shame. She would never be ashamed of what she’d done even though it had been one of the worst things a human could do to another. Rather she would hold her head up high, not in pride, but rather in acceptance. She’d done what she’d had to do to protect herself, but more important, to protect her beloved son.

The nerves that had jangled inside her since she’d made the decision to call Cameron slowly calmed as she drew in another deep breath and embraced a final resignation.

Somehow she’d always known this day would come. She’d hoped it wouldn’t, but a small part inside her had known that she would have to answer for the split-second decision she’d made years before.

And now that day had come. There was no way to ignore the anniversary card or the frog with the crooked gold crown that had been delivered to Matt for his birthday. Somebody from her past had found her. She feared they were already meting out a form of justice to her, causing the deaths of the people who worked for her, the women who had been her friends.

She couldn’t live with the knowledge that she might be responsible for any more deaths. A knock on her door jangled the nerves that had so recently calmed.

“Mary, it’s me...Cameron.”

Tears filled her eyes at the sound of his deep, familiar voice. She got up from the sofa and quickly swiped the tears away. She wanted to be strong. She needed to be strong to get through what happened next.

She opened the door and gestured Cameron inside, unable to meet his gaze with hers. “Why don’t we sit at the table,” she suggested, as she worried a strand of her hair between two fingers.

“Okay.” He shrugged off his coat and tossed it on the sofa, then sat in a chair, dwarfing the table with his size. She sat in the chair across from him and finally forced herself to meet his gaze.