Irresistible Stranger (14 page)

She aimed for his kitchen, prowled around. The boys
were going to probably want eggs and a serious breakfast, so she located where various pots and pans and supplies were, then started up his German coffee machine.

While coffee brewed, she dug in her purse for her cell phone, switched it on. Voicemail indicated almost a dozen calls—six of them from Cate. Her oldest sister had probably worked herself into an ulcer by now.

Lily waited until she had the first mug poured, then carried it through the living room, opened a glass door and sank in a chair on the patio. The morning was already lushly warm, but a breeze whisked through the air. More to the point, the boys wouldn't likely hear raised voices from outside, and Cate, even from a thousand miles away, was likely mad enough to rival a symphony in volume. She took a long pull on the coffee, hit redial, and waited for the blast.

“You don't put yourself in dangerous situations, you dimwit. Do you hear me? The three of us—we're not losing each other. Period. If you're in trouble, we're all in trouble, and now we've got a couple of husbands to add to the protection force. You don't just…”

Yada yada. Lily finished the first cup, went back for a second before she got a word in edgewise, and finally slipped in an “I totally love you, Cate.” Usually that stopped Cate dead in her tracks, no matter how wild a rant she was on.

And that worked for a while. She filled Cate in on the newspaper records, the teenage girl likely responsible for three of the old arson fires, how or if they could possibly be linked to their parents' fire—and the current arson incidents.

Cate interrupted to ask, “So that teenage girl, she'd be between thirty-five and forty now?”

“Add twenty years to back then. Yes.”

But neither of them could seem to conclude more than that. It had been a long time since Lily had been able to coax Cate—or Sophie—to talk about the fire. All three knew what that fire had cost them—fear of loss, grief that never went away, the loss of home and life and everything they knew. None of the three had ever felt safe again.

It was always there, the knowledge that fate could suddenly step in and rip out everything from beneath you.

Lily said, “My plan today is to hit the social service office. I don't know if the social worker is still there who had our case, but it's really bugged me. Why were the three of us separated? Doesn't have anything to do with the fire, I guess—but I want to know how it was decided that we sisters should be split up.”

“Good,” Cate said thoughtfully. “And then…did you happen to look up the old high school yearbooks?”

Lily frowned, looked into her empty cup, and ambled back to the kitchen with the cell still glued to her ear. “Why?”

“You pinned down a reason for fires. Something we never had before. A girl who was jilted or hurt. The year of the fire—and maybe the year before? So, if she was a teenager, maybe her picture will be in the high school yearbook.”

“I can't imagine that I could conceivably recognize anyone.”

“Probably not.” Cate sighed. “It's just grasping at straws. But even if the faces mean nothing to you, maybe a name will ring a bell. Or something could be familiar.”

“Okay. No harm in trying.” She heard a door open, saw Griff emerge from the hall, his hair sleep-tousled, his chin beard-bristly. Barefoot, wearing nothing but cutoffs, she thought he looked downright edible.

“Then get out, Lily. I mean it. I admit, I'm glad you went there. Sophie is, too. You uncovered a bunch of things that we never expected to know, and we all wanted that. But no ‘closure' malarkey is worth your being in danger. Cross your
T
s, see if there's anything else to find, but then, for Pete's sake, pack up.”

“Hmm.” She watched Griff pause in Jason's doorway, peer in, and then make a beeline straight for her. Didn't look right or left, didn't notice the day or the darkening sky or the mess in his kitchen. He pounced. Pressed a kiss tight to the top of her head. Then zoned for the coffee machine.

“Lily, are you listening?”

“Yes.”

“You're at his house, aren't you.”

“Yes.”

“Stop saying ‘yes' or I'm flying there as fast as I can buy ticket. How far has it gone?”

“As far as anything in my life,” Lily said simply. She hung up. Not intentionally. She saw Griff had filled his mug and had already put it down, was aiming for her again. Without thinking about it, she put down the phone—just in time to lift both her arms. Griff slid right
between them, and hooked her into a good-morning kiss. A serious good-morning kiss this time. A life-altering good-morning kiss.

“Hey,” he murmured. The light in his eyes was strong enough to burn.

“Hey right back.”

“I have an idea.”

She laughed, shook her head. “We both have major agendas today. No time for ideas, big guy.”

“I'm fast.”

“Last I noticed, you were dazzlingly slow. But a far more immediately important agenda issue is walking up beyond you, handsome.”

Griff arched an arm, felt even before he saw Jason edge out of the hallway shadows, hustle to take a quick place against his side. Griff gently squeezed a hug, then let him loose. Lily watched him take a long look at the young, battered face.

“We've got some things to take care of, my main man.”

“I'm up for anything you are,” Jason said, and offered a hesitant smile to Lily.

“You guys aren't going anywhere without a decent breakfast. Don't even try,” Lily warned them.

 

The day's plans were aired over scrambled eggs and guava-jam-covered toast. Griff had running around to do, organizing the cleanup of his shop, a little real work, some ordinary chores. “Jason's hanging with me through that. But after lunch, we're going to make a stop at social services.”

“No,” Jason said immediately.

“I didn't say you'd be stuck there. I said we're going in there together. Loreen'll take pictures. And you'll go back to your mom's—if your dad's in custody.” Griff fielded his dishes to the sink. Jason did the same.

“It sounds like we're going to run some parallel paths,” Lily admitted. She was headed back to the B and B first for a change of clothes, then headed for social services herself, to see if there were records from twenty years ago on the disposition of her and her sisters. After that, she wanted to track down high school yearbooks for the two years before the fire.

“At soc services, ask for Loreen. She's sharp, good lady. She'll do you a favor if she can.”

They made a tentative plan to catch up predinner, but Lily wasn't taking odds on that happening and told him so. “You've had days since you had a chance to get into your own office here. You need and have to get some time to yourself.”

“No, I don't,” he argued.

“Well, we'll see.” She wanted to be with him—more than he knew. But there was no guessing how long Jason would be with him, and no forecasting how long either of their days would be. “Call my cell if you want to cancel out—or if you have stuff to do and you just want me and Jason to hang out. At least, if that's okay with Jason.”

It wasn't quite. She could still see wariness in Jason's eyes. There was only one person the child really trusted, and that was Griff. But he agreed—where Griff didn't. Griff insisted on their catching up via cell several times
during the day. And she couldn't escape until she'd agreed to the tyrant's demands.

Naturally though, nothing went as planned.

I
t was almost noon before Lily located the old Department of Social Services building. Louella had held her up for the better part of an hour, wanting to gossip, hoping for more information. She'd changed clothes to a sleeveless shift, pale pink and white, as cool as anything she owned, and tried winding her hair with a clip on top of her head. The temperature by the time she returned to her rental car was the usual—hot, wet and steamy.

She'd have made it to the Department of Social Services building a good half hour earlier, if she didn't make a couple wrong turns—and then had to fill up with gas. Finally, though, she located the flat-topped brick building on the far side of the railroad tracks. Once inside, everything got easier. She only had to ask for Loreen.

Griff's contact had chocolate caramel skin, wore a
print dress a size too small for her ample curves, and the tired face of a woman who'd seen it all. “Griff said you might stop. Heaven knows, I've been curious to lay eyes on you. Whole town's talking about you and these fires. Come on back. I'll get us both some sweet tea.”

“Oh, I don't need—”

“
I
do. And from everything I've been hearing, you need all the sweet tea and sympathy you can get.”

Loreen's office was jammed. File cabinets and desk overflowed with paper. The walls had pictures of missing kids, framed diplomas and credentials, schedules. One corner of the desk was reserved for a pitcher of sweet tea, cold and sweating on a tray with paper cups. “You just missed Griff by two shakes, was in here with the boy. Jason, his daddy's bad to the bone. Got a nice smile, a nice look. It's gonna kill me—and it's gonna kill Griff worse—if the kid ends back in that house again.”

“I'm guessing you've tried to rescue him before.”

“So many times, I lost count. I guess I could send him to Alaska. But I swear, he'd run off and find his way back to his mama, no matter where I sent him. Has before. Three times. He thinks his daddy's gonna kill his mama if he isn't there. And I think he's right.”

“You're not serious.”

“Welcome to my world, honey. I can always get the dog put in jail. Just can't get him sent up the river for good, when the only witnesses keep lying in court. Anyhow… That's not what you're here for.”

Lily admitted her visit was probably a lost cause. “I just wanted to ask if there was any chance the department kept records from twenty years ago.”

“Honey, there are probably records in this place from the beginning of time. I can't give them to you without legal permission. But I can probably scare up what you want to know and then just tell you. What's the name, and what exactly are you looking for?”

Lily ran through the whole Campbell history. “I don't know if there's anything else we can find about the fire for sure, but there's been a question that has really troubled my sisters and me.”

“And that is?”

“Why we were separated. We were orphaned by the fire, obviously, but each of us was fostered to different families, in different states. Can you tell me why that happened? I assume no one could afford to take on three kids? I realize how expensive that would have been. But I've been led to believe that my dad had some savings, so it's troubled all of us for a long time—why we were separated. And by such far distances.”

“It is odd,” Loreen agreed, and went on the hunt.

Old records and files had been computerized, but some of that historical data was saved on giant-sized floppies. Before reading them, they had to be converted and updated, which required a computer in a different room—which also required Loreen to order out for sandwiches, because she didn't miss lunch, and that was that. The phone rang, interrupting her several times, but Loreen repeated, “Just stay. We'll get our answers, and then we'll be done. It's not as if there'll be more time another day. There won't be. There never is.”

In the meantime, Loreen kept up a general patter about Jason and Steven and Walter—and a half-dozen
other boys that Griff had taken on. “Under the covers, you understand. Always under the covers. Doesn't foster. What he does is intervene, find some way for a boy in trouble to see another path. You can't always fix what's wrong. You can't make bad people into good. But youngsters, if they can see a way out, they're resilient. They're…well, shoot, honey.”

“What?”

Loreen peered at the monitor, trying to read faded print on unclear copy. “I've got it. The report after your parents' fire. It was the sheriff.”

“Pardon?”

“The sheriff was the one who advised the state that you three girls should be separated.”

Lily sank in the battered office chair. “Sheriff Conner? But I've talked to him a bunch of times. He never said. Does it say why he advised that?”

“Hmm.” Loreen scrolled through the document, which involved several pages of information. “Two families stepped up, said they'd take the three of you. But one was unsuitable—a farm. They really wanted child labor. Another, they only had a two-bedroom house, just wasn't big enough to add three youngsters. But that wasn't the problem. Apparently the social worker at the time—that'd be Samantha LaFitte, she retired around five years back, died last year—anyhow, she was the one who handled the case. Seems the sheriff's opinion was the one that pulled the weight.”

“Why?” Lily repeated, feeling as if her world was being upended yet again.

All these years, her sisters could have been together?
And Herman Conner, who she'd talked to over and over, had hidden that information all this time?”

Loreen finally looked up again with a frown. “You need to understand. I'm no mighty fan of the law. I see injustice done to women and children every day. But I do think a lot of Sheriff Conner. He's never been the brightest knife in the drawer, but he had trouble with his own kids, never judged other people that I could see. He'll turn his back if he thinks it's the right thing. At least sometimes.”

“I hear you. I thought he was a good guy, too.”

“Apparently, he felt it was just the wrong thing for you three to stay in this town. He knew from personal experience that it was mighty hard for a child to live down a reputation. That an event or a problem could come back to haunt them. He thought it best if you three went somewhere where you'd make a completely clean start, forget about Pecan Valley altogether.”

Loreen paged through to the end of the document, added, “Samantha LaFitte, she didn't agree. She apparently argued for you three to be together, wherever you landed. But the judge took the sheriff's advice. There's some comment here I can't quite read, but it refers to the sheriff having good reasons to understand problems with children.”

Lily still had the oddest sinking sensation in her stomach. “What problems was that referring to?”

“I don't know, honey. Problems in his personal life, maybe, with his own kids? Or with kids in town? I wasn't in this job then. I always heard two of his girls were wild as teenagers, but really, I just don't know. Everybody
always said he'd die for his kids. Was a great dad, a family man all the way. But that's all I know.”

 

When Lily left the office, she walked out to a blaze of heat, immediately lifted the hair off her nape and hoped she'd survive walking the hundred feet to the rental car. For once though, her mind wasn't on whining about the Georgia summer. She was just plain confused.

There was nothing exactly wrong with the sheriff's play in the Campbell girls' future back then. It was the exact opposite of what the three sisters had wanted, but that didn't mean anything sinister or wrong or weird was involved. It just
felt
weird. That she'd talked to Herman Conner so many times, and he'd ducked any reference to his vote in their future back then.

She opened the car door, almost fell over from the blast of cooped up heat, and climbed in anyway. She dialed Griff on her cell, didn't reach him, left him a short message that she'd left social services and was headed for somewhere she could track down old high school yearbooks.

 

Surprisingly, Louella came up with that answer. Lily only popped back at the B and B to grab a notebook and change shoes, but Louella got talking, claimed that Susannah Danwell, who lived just three doors down—“She's over eighty, if she's a day, but still dressing like she's sixty-five, bless her heart, thinking she's fooling anyone. But she's been keeping the high school yearbooks forever. Wants to think of herself as a historian, she does, but the real truth is, her Herbert died, and she had
nobody, so people come to visit her sometimes, to see the yearbooks, and she gets to talk then. She gets the company. I do wish she'd dress her age, but it's nothing to me, of course. Anyway, sugar, I'll call her and set it up, and you can take some of my caramel brownies over there, and it'll work like a charm. She'll be happy and you'll be happy, and it couldn't possibly work out any better….”

Lily knew Louella better than to interrupt—or to try arguing until Louella had finally run out of steam. Normally, Lily wouldn't have wanted to impose on a stranger, but Louella had dialed the number before she could stop her, told the infamous Susannah Danwell that Lily would be ambling over there in just a bit, and that she was a peach and a half.

“There now, honey, that's done. And you don't need to worry about a thing. I'll just call over there if there's any messages. That way, you can hole up and nobody'll know where you are, and you can just put your feet up with Susannah, bless her heart….”

 

Susannah, it turned out, lived in another of the city-styled antebellum homes. The veranda was long enough to bowl in, with a double screen door leading to a Scarlett O'Hara central staircase that gleamed with fresh polish. Her mother used to take in boarders, Susannah told her. She was dressed—as warned—with an I Love Vegas T-shirt and matching capris. Her neck, ears, wrists and arms glittered with rhinestones and bangles. “I do like a touch of elegance, honey, and oh, you have no idea how glad I am to meet you. The whole town's talking about
what a wicked, wicked girl you are, and here, all I see is a little darling. Why, you're no bigger than a minute, are you? And you know what? I met your mama. And I was here when that fire happened, when the mill closed, all of it. Why, these caramel brownies are probably the best Louella ever baked. She dresses way too old for her years, bless her heart, but…”

Lily figured she'd never escape here until 2014—maybe—but as much as the older lady talked, she moved just as fast. Before much time passed, they were both sitting on a horsehair sofa, a lazy fan whirling overhead, and three high school year books opened on the crowded coffee table in front of them. Susannah had asked the year when her parents died, and picked that year and the two earlier ones to “peruse,” as she put it.

“I don't exactly know what I'm looking for,” Lily admitted. “I've picked up all kinds of new information, but nothing that pulls it all together.”

“You want a ‘bottom line,' as you young people like to say.” Susannah licked her thumb, started peeling through pages. “You want proof your father didn't set the fire.”

“Yes.”

“And the proof would be if you found who
did
set that fire. You think someone in this age bracket set the other troublesome fires. The arson stories that were in the paper.”

“Exactly. The person was never found, but all the evidence points to someone of high school age. A girl.”

“Well, that only narrows it down by half,” Susannah
said wryly. “I think we need a glass of sherry, don't you?”

Personally, Lily was no fan of sweet wines, but she couldn't turn down the older woman. Susannah was having a great time. She produced wineglasses “from a pawn shop in Reno.”

“Real Irish crystal. Not that I'm a snob about such things. Oh, my…”

Lily scanned face after face, feeling increasingly foolish. She didn't know anyone, couldn't make any connection. But Susannah could, on every page.

“Oh, my heavens. Margo—you've met her, haven't you, the insurance agent? She had two nieces in high school, one after the other, both of them brighter than sunshine. The one made it all the way to her Ph.D., but sorry to say, the youngest got herself in the family way…never married, I hear….

“And there's Larry Wilson. Oh, what a heartthrob he was to the girls, every father's nightmare…Cashner Warden, I know you know him, the fire chief, he graduated a year ahead. He was another heartthrob back then, believe it or not. Quarterback of the football team. They lost every game. They were that bad. But he still looked good in that uniform, and there was always talk of the girls he was getting in trouble…oh my, oh my…”

Susannah clutched her chest with one hand—and reached over for the decanter of sherry with the other. Poured both of them another glass. “I'd forgotten. Our Herman Conner had five kids, you know, but there was one pair of twins, girls. He lost the one to a car accident when she was around fifteen. The whole family went to
pieces, but especially her twin. Mary Belle ran around like a wild thing…you recognize her, don't you?”

“I do.” The hairdresser with the wild, red hair.

“Well, the scandals about the girl near broke Herman's heart, but you know how it is. Some have to make mistakes their own way. She's turned into a good mama. Still hasn't got a lick of sense for men. But I think she still misses her sister, that something's always been missing for her…and oh, my, you know Debbie of Debbie's Diner? Well, her older brother…”

Lily sat straight.

She smelled it first. Just the barest whiff of smoke.

Followed by the distant scream of a fire truck engine.

“Oh my. Oh my.” Susannah grabbed a chair arm and pushed to her feet. “I'm afraid that's close.”