Love Lies Bleeding (26 page)

Stop it,
said a voice in her head. Remember the first day and all that. Did she want fear to be part of her new vocabulary—her new life? No, she didn’t and she wouldn’t allow it. Suddenly her spirit felt lighter. Wow, was it that easy? What other words would be banished from her life? Hmm,
deadlines
. . . definitely
deadlines
. From now on the only deadline she’d meet would be of her own making. No more having her father harangue her about meeting the client’s needs. No more endless chatter about corporate goals. She’d pick out her own goals, thank you very much.

Committee meetings should be nixed, too. She thought back on the endless ones her mother had made her attend. Talk, talk, talk, but no action. Sitting with people whose idea of charity was writing a big check to ease their conscience so that they could go about their business. Well, not her. She needed to be careful with her money—at least until she knew how successful her career as an artist would be—but it didn’t mean that she couldn’t do charitable things. She looked down at Roxy, trotting happily at her side. Such an excellent dog and look at the difference Roxy had made in her life. Here she was, strolling down the road, without a care, no anxiety, no panic. Roxy had given her back a measure of confidence, but without Greg, the dog probably would have been euthanized. That’s what she’d do—she’d give her time and volunteer at a rescue shelter. Help other dogs—and people—get a second chance at life.

Sam lifted her head and was shocked. She’d been so lost in planning her new life that she hadn’t realized how far she’d walked. She was halfway around the lake. Moving to retrace her steps, she halted when the sound of music drifted through the trees. So beautiful, but Sam didn’t recognize it. She walked a few yards toward the sound and stepped into a clearing. Fritz’s cabin sat a short distance away. He must be listening to his stereo.

Sam stood quietly for a moment, letting the lilting notes wash over her, but before she could turn away, Fritz stepped out onto his porch with a garbage bag in hand. Seeing her, he called out.

“Samantha, have you come for a visit?” he asked in a delighted voice.

Caught, Sam faltered. “Ah, it’s a lovely morning, so I decided to take a walk.”

Dropping the bag, Fritz lifted his face to the sun filtering through the trees. “It is, isn’t it? A storm always seems to clear things.” Returning his attention to her, he peered past her. “Where’s your chaperone?”

“Anne?” Sam shook her head. “Roxy’s my only companion today.”

“Good for you. A little independence never hurt anyone.” He waved her forward. “Come in. Join me for coffee.”

“That’s kind, but I wouldn’t want to disturb you.”

“You’re not disturbing me,” he said, nudging the bag with his foot. “You’re rescuing me from mundane housework.”

Sam gave Roxy’s leash a light tug and joined Fritz. After ushering her into the cabin, he moved toward the stereo. Sam stopped him.

“No need to turn it off. It’s lovely, but I don’t recognize the composer. Who is it?”

Fritz placed a hand over his heart and bowed slightly. “Me.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “You composed that?”

“Yes,” he answered, his face wreathed in pleasure. “For that reaction to my music, you deserve more than coffee. A Bloody Mary perhaps?”

“No thanks,” Sam said, waving her hands. “Too early in the day for me, but don’t let that stop you.”

“We’ll both have coffee,” he replied with a wink, and went to the cupboard. After removing two cups and saucers, he had started to pour when a knock interrupted him. “My, my, today is my day for visitors.”

Fritz crossed to the door and opened. Edward Dunlap stood on the other side of the threshold.

Grabbing his arm, Fritz drew him inside. “Edward, join us for coffee,” he said as he led him into the kitchen.

Spying Sam, Edward hesitated. “I can come back later.”

“Nonsense.” Fritz dropped Edward’s arm and quickly filled one of the cups and handed it to him.

Edward stared at the full cup as if he didn’t know what to do with it. Setting it on the counter, he glanced down at Roxy, curled up by Sam’s feet. “I heard that you adopted one of Greg’s strays.”

Sam smiled down at her dog. “Yes, she’s become a great companion.”

“I always wanted a dog,” Edward said wistfully, “but Mother’s allergic.”

“That’s too bad.”

Edward’s attention shifted and he cocked his head as if suddenly hearing the music. He placed his uninjured hand on the counter, and his fingers began to play along with the invisible pianist. His eyes took on a dreamy look while his lips curled in a half smile.

“Edward, do you—” Sam began, but stopped when Fritz rushed past her.

He strode over to the stereo and with one quick, angry movement shut it off.

As if stunned by the abrupt silence, Edward shook his head, dazed. His eyes flew to Fritz, still standing by the stereo.

“I—I—have to go. Excuse me.” Edward whirled and headed for the door.

“Edward, wait,” Fritz called after him, but Edward didn’t hesitate. “Edward, I’m sorry. I thought—”

The slamming door cut him off.

Fritz bowed his head for a moment before joining Sam at the kitchen bar.

“I suppose you’d like an explanation,” he said grimly.

“Only if you want to give me one,” Sam replied in a soft voice.

Taking a deep breath, Fritz exhaled slowly. “At one time, Edward was one of my students and that piece was one of his favorites.” He slammed a hand on the counter, startling Roxy. “Damn it, I should’ve shut it off the moment I saw him standing in the doorway.”

Sam lightly touched his hand. “Fritz—”

“No, don’t say anything. It was inexcusable of me to even inadvertently remind that poor boy of what he’s lost.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You couldn’t have known Edward would drop by.” Sam paused. “I know Edward was in an accident, but no one has ever said what happened.”

“Car accident,” Fritz answered, his tone short.

“And his arm was injured?”

“Yes, his shoulder. Alone, late at night, out on a gravel road—Edward ran a stop sign and was hit broadside. The force of the impact sent his car into the ditch.” Fritz took a step back, leaning against the counter. “He has never regained use of his arm. Due to the injury, he developed some sort of syndrome that affects his nerves and causes constant pain.” He shook his head. “I don’t have a medical background, so I don’t understand what all his condition entails, but I do know he’s been tormented by it ever since.”

Sam thought of her own medical problems, slight in comparison to Edward’s. She
was
lucky. She knew that her recovery was possible. Edward would never have that same gift—the gift of hope.

“How sad,” she murmured. “I wonder how he’s kept his sanity.”

“I don’t believe he has,” Fritz answered slowly.

Chapter Twenty-four

W
hat are you doing home?” Caleb called from the living room as Anne walked in the front door. Joining him, she sprawled in one of the chairs.

“Sam gave me the morning off.”

“Cool,” he answered, not looking up from the magazine lying in his lap.

Anne studied him closely. He sat, leaning back against the couch with his long legs stretched out, resting on the coffee table. From her position, she couldn’t see the article he was reading, but whatever it was, it was engrossing. She sat forward. With a yip, she jumped up and ran over to stand behind him. Throwing her arms around his neck, she kissed the top of his head.

“Oh, Mom,” he said, ducking to the side. “It’s just a catalog.”

“For St. Michael’s University,” she exclaimed as she peered over his shoulder at the brightly colored pages. “It’s an excellent school.” Moving around the corner of the couch, she sat next to him and propped her feet on the edge of the coffee table. She leaned close and tapped the page. “Just look at the campus. Isn’t that beautiful? And there,” she said, pointing to another picture. “Those dorm rooms look really comfortable.”

“Here,” he said with a lift of his eyebrow, and handed her the catalog. “Would you like to look at it?”

“If you insist,” she replied with a wry grin and quickly began to thumb through the pages. “Caleb, are you seriously considering St. Michael’s?”

Leaning his head back against the couch, he closed his eyes and sighed. “I don’t know. A state university would be cheaper.”

Dropping her feet, Anne curled her legs under her as she did some swift calculations in her head. She’d hoped her job with Samantha would last all summer, but the way it was going, she doubted it. Sam had been making remarkable progress, both mentally and physically, especially since she’d stood up to her father. Eyes focused on the pictures, Anne couldn’t help but wonder how much one played into the other. Had Lawrence Moore’s tight control over his daughter’s life been impeding her recovery? Shaking her head, she returned her attention to the catalog. Attitude, it was all about attitude.

As she flipped to the last pages of the catalog, her eyes widened at the sight of the cost per college credit. She’d managed to keep Caleb’s college fund intact, but that payment to the bank was looming. If Caleb was set on St. Michael’s, even with her paychecks from Sam, it wouldn’t be enough, and she wanted to avoid applying for student loans. She needed to get a second job at the care facility in Hankton. She could work for Sam during the day and the night shift part-time in Hankton.

A knock at her front door startled Anne out of her silent planning session.

“Caleb, answer the—” she began, turning to where he’d been sitting. He was gone. When had he meandered off? With a sigh, she uncurled her legs and, rising, crossed the room. Through the door’s window she spied a Scott County sheriff’s car sitting in her driveway, and Duane Parker, one of the deputies, standing on her front porch. Her stomach instinctively clenched only to relax at once when she remembered that Caleb was somewhere in the house.

Holding the door open, she smiled. “Hey, Duane.”

“Anne,” he said, twisting his hat nervously in his hands. “Miss seeing you at the hospital.” He peered over her shoulder into the house. “Is Caleb around?”

Her stomach tightened again. “Yeah,” she replied, glancing over her shoulder toward the kitchen. “Come in. I’ll get him.” Letting the door swing shut behind him, she turned and strode toward the kitchen. Caleb was in his usual position, hanging on the refrigerator door and staring blindly at its contents.

“Caleb, Deputy Parker is here to see you,” she hissed. “What have you been up to?”

Caleb shut the door, his eyes widening in surprise. “Nothing.”

“Then why does he want to talk to you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’d better be telling me the truth,” she replied in a low voice.

“I am. I swear.”

She sighed and jerked her head toward the hall. “Let’s go see what he wants.”

With Anne right behind him, Caleb shuffled out of the kitchen and into the hall, where the deputy waited.

She cast a narrow glance at Caleb as she motioned him and Deputy Parker toward the living room. “Shall we go in there?” she asked, trying to keep her voice bright.

Once Deputy Parker was seated on the couch and Caleb had plopped into an armchair, Anne seated herself in another chair and waited for the deputy to begin.

“Quite a thunderstorm last night, wasn’t it?” he asked, directing his question to Anne.

“Sure was,” she replied, leaning back in the chair. “Why do you want to talk with Caleb, Duane?”

He tugged at his collar as he pulled a small notebook out of his jacket pocket. Scanning it quickly, he cleared his throat. “Ah, Caleb, we’ve had a complaint last night from a Dr. Jackson Van Horn—”

Anne drew back. “Dr. Van Horn?”

The deputy nodded. “I know you work for his fiancée, Anne.” He glanced down at his notes. “As he was leaving his cabin last night, he saw two kids running down the road in the storm. Then, when he stopped at Dunlap’s to get gas, he noticed someone had keyed the passenger side of his car.” He snapped the notebook shut. “Anything you’d like to tell me, Caleb?”

“No.”

“Okay—well, when one of the boys passed under the neighbor’s yard light, Dr. Van Horn saw he was wearing a red sweatshirt.” He paused. “Still don’t have anything to say?”

Caleb’s chin dropped. “No.”

“The sweatshirt had ‘Weaver’ printed on the back.”

“Caleb!” Anne gasped, shooting forward.

Caleb’s head whirled toward his mother. “I know this looks bad, but it wasn’t me . . . honest,” he cried.

Anne’s lips tightened. “But you know who it was, don’t you?”

He seemed to shrink in the chair. “No—ah—I lost that sweatshirt a couple of weeks ago.”

“Where?” she asked, her eyes drilling into his.

Shrugging, he looked down and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Okay, let’s try this,” Deputy Parker said in a calm voice. “Where were you last night?”

Caleb shot a nervous glance at Anne. “It was raining so hard that I pulled over at Dunlap’s to wait it out.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“Ah—no.”

He’s lying,
Anne thought as her temper began to flare. “If you know anything about what happened to Dr. Van Horn’s car, I suggest you tell Deputy Parker . . . immediately.”

“I can’t—I don’t,” he declared.

Deputy Parker slapped his legs and rose. “I guess if you can’t help me out, Caleb, I’ll just have to write up my report based on what Dr. Van Horn said.” He lifted a shoulder. “Then, if he wants to press charges, it’ll be up to the judge to decide.”

Anne, her mind numb, showed Deputy Parker to the door. When they reached it, he turned.

“Sorry to see you again under these circumstances,” he said softly. “Caleb’s a good kid and it’s hard for me to believe he keyed Dr. Van Horn’s car.” He shook his head. “But I do think he knows who did. If he wants to talk about it, give me a call. I’m on duty all day.”

Anne laid a hand on his arm. “Thanks, Duane. I’ll let you know if I find out anything.”

After shutting the door, she marched back to the living room and over to where Caleb was still sitting. Towering over him, she fisted her hands on her hips. “Unless you want to be grounded for the rest of your life, you’d better start talking.”