The Charity (27 page)

Her inner mind had been jostled by the recent events. It had been successful in keeping the horrible images of her past out of her conscious thought and had only let the few fragments of guilt surface to help her conscious mind preserve its unconscious fortress. Now, it sent up raspy whisperings of “Murderess, murderess” in an increasing tempo. Again, it would make fear chase its vessel away from here. “Murderess.”

Jessica pressed her hands to her ears to stop the ringing and the whisperings. “NO! NO! I didn’t mean to do it.” Her own voice was again lost.

“Do what?” Michael could see she was almost at a breaking point and pressed her hard. “I have to get some answers. The pieces of information I have add up to trouble. Even his obituary reflected how connected he was. Anyone looking at that paunchy, middle-aged man could tell he was no outdoors man.” He paused. Whoever wanted Rowdy Howe to lead him to Jessica that night, and then kill him for his efforts, would not stop until she was dead too. “What do you remember from that night? What’s going on with you?”

Jessica’s terror was turning to anger. “With
me
? Every time I remember something or learn something, you tell me something else. If you think there was a break-in here or if you think Rowdy Howe was killed by a person and not an animal, then why are you trying to cover that up? I can’t remember what happened that night. I said I remembered someone, but I was wrong. I don’t know what happened!” Guilt and fear, past and present, collided and she was cornered. She had to run.

Michael took a step forward and put his hands on Jessica’s shoulder’s, trying to steady her. “Tess. I’m sorry that things don’t make sense to you. Some things are better left unsaid. I kept information out of the papers to protect you and the town from unnecessary fear. Maybe it was a bad decision, but I had to go on with this investigation. I want to help you. You just have to trust me.”

“
Trust?
You want me to trust you? A
cop
?” Jessica made no attempt to cover her derisive tone. She tried to squirm out of his grasp. She was surprised when he tightened his hold.

Michael looked down at Jessica and made a decision. “What kind of trouble are you in, Tess?”

Fragments of memories hurled themselves against the gates. A man’s voice said, ‘She’s a murderer.’ Another said she was dead. Images swirled. Shirtsleeves rolled up on an arm holding a knife. A mark?

Jessica allowed herself to be steadied by him when another wave of dizziness washed over her. She felt him guide her to the couch, and she sat down. “I’m not in any trouble.” The words came out in a voice that was barely a thread.

“What about your family? Are you running from them?”

Jessica snorted at the ridiculous question. Leave it to a cop to ask the dumb ones. “How can I? They’re all dead.”

That confirmed, he continued. “How did they die?”

“I was just a little kid when it happened. It was an accident. The car went out of control.” The words fell out of her mouth mechanically. She forced the images out of her head. It took effort. Too much effort.

“Why weren’t you in the car, too?”

“Because Gus wanted me to be with him.”
Murderess!
She placed her hands over her ears and began to rock back and forth. She looked up and saw the sharp features of Coogan staring down at her. “Get out! Get out of here you bastard! You don’t want to help me! It’s all
your
fault. Just get out!”

Jessica sprang off the couch, pushing the stunned man to the door. It was a moment before she saw Michael’s face again instead of Coogan’s. She felt his hands on her shoulders.

Michael repeated his question. “What kind of trouble are you in?”

Jessica looked up into his slate blue eyes and responded in a flat voice. “Even if I knew, you’d be the last person on earth I’d tell.”

After Michael left, Jessica did not waste any time. She ran upstairs and began to pack. Her head could barely contain the pain inside of it. With shaking hands, she took the last of her pain medication, only briefly debating whether or not it would dull her senses too much. But what she had to do she had done before. It was easy to pack and leave.

The clothes she threw into one large suitcase were chosen carefully since she resolved not to access any money in her accounts. Penniless and running again, she knew she could not afford to buy anything for quite a while.

She looked around the house one last time. Satisfied, she slammed the kitchen door behind her and ran to her Jeep. The suitcase crashed into the back seat, the thud echoing against the side of the barn. Jessica heard the nervous chuckles of the horses.

Buying the farm was a stupid fantasy, and it was foolish to think that she could settle down. For years, she had run and had been safe. Instincts always urged her to move on, to keep going. It was only stupidity that made her ignore her instincts to run since she came to Perc. She vowed never to ignore her gut again. She had learned from this costly mistake and would not forget its acid message.

Jessica opened the door to the Jeep and was about to get in when she had one last thought to give the horses additional food and water in case the morning crew did not arrive. She loped back up to the barn and rolled back the large door. Switching on the lights, she quickly gave the horses more grain. The hay and water were more of an effort than she anticipated. Her sides ached as she tried to carry the large bales, and she tired easily. She sat down on one bale to catch her breath and determined to assess Snugs one last time.

The mare moved, so she was standing with her back to the door. With her head down, her back had an almost arched appearance. Concerned, Jessica entered the stall and placed her hands on the mare’s shiny brown sides. The mare groaned as another contraction rippled through her.

“Damn it!
Damn it!
Not now!” Jessica clenched her fists in frustration and anger. Her head was screaming at her to leave, but she could not leave the mare while it was in active labor. Fighting back the tears of disappointment, she walked back to the house to call the veterinarian.

Michael sat in Electra’s den with a mug of beer in his hands. He looked around at the walls filled with expensive oil paintings of horses in various scenes. Horses cascaded over a stone wall in one hunt scene and stood still, poised for the artist in another. The active fire gave little warmth to him as he absently sipped his beer.

“Is that all you were able to learn?” Electra sat opposite Michael in a matching burgundy leather chair. They had been engrossed in this conversation for nearly two hours. She was growing impatient.

“I just don’t get it. By all appearances, she’s running from someone or something. And she’s terrified. I was hoping that you might be able to fill in some gaps, but she has been just as tight-lipped with you as with anyone. I thought the two of you were close.”

“I thought so, too. I told you that she was afraid that I might print what I learned about her in my column. She was probably right.” Electra leaned her head against the back of the chair. She was tired of this conversation. The sheriff had done nothing more than have her repeat every conversation with Tess that she had ever had. They were getting nowhere. Electra tried again to elicit more information. “What more did she say about her fall?”

Michael paused. “Nothing.”

Electra got to her feet and paced in front of the hearth. “You and I both know that’s bunk. She no more would have been up on that roof in a storm than I would have been. Why do you think the phone lines were cut?”

The statement jarred Michael’s attention to Electra’s face. He knew there was no use in denying it. She was too well connected into the gossip chains for information to pass her by. “More than likely she heard the intruder and fell while trying to escape. She’s still pretty shook up by it and doesn’t remember much. It would be better for everyone that these rumors don’t get spread.”

Electra agreed and continued. “Do you think there is any connection between Tess and Rowdy Howe’s death?” Electra had paused and asked the question with her back turned to Michael. She heard him take a sip of his beer.

“No.” Electra heard Michael shift uncomfortably in his chair. He added, “Howe was here at your ball that night. How well did you know him?”

“Rowdy was a hanger-on. He was just someone everyone knew, and he made his livelihood on the backs of others. I only knew him through contacts of other people. I found him mildly amusing and frustrated him by never mentioning him in my columns. I quite think that drove him crazy.” She turned and faced Michael directly. “I thought that final piece on him was comical. He was certainly not the athletic type. What do you know about his death?”

Michael took another sip of beer and rubbed his hand on his blue jeans. “I guess his body was found just over the line in Cumberland County. Some animal got to him.” Michael knew that every word he was saying was being weighed and checked against the vast store of information Electra had already gathered. She could often be of tremendous help when it came to understanding people and the nuances of their relationships. But tonight, he was aggravated at how little more he had learned about Tess. He had a feeling that time was running out. If he could help Tess, it had to be soon. One life had already been lost because he was too late in getting there. He vowed he would not let that happen again.

“Michael, I wish I could be of more help to you. Tess just did not open up to me or to anyone else. You have talked to Hoyt Percival, haven’t you? He’s the only other person I know that got a little closer to her. What about that ranch she worked at in Utah? Maybe someone there has more pieces to our puzzle. Anyway,” Electra stood up and moved toward the door to the hallway, “if I can help in any other way, just stop by. You know you are always welcome here.”

Michael placed his half-full mug on the smooth marble-topped table next to his chair. “Thanks, Electra. I’ll check with Hoyt and ClaireAnne again. Goodnight.” He leaned down and accepted the proffered kiss on his cheek.

“Tess is like a daughter to me, Michael. Don’t let anything happen to her.” Electra placed her hand on his forearm. “She reminds me a lot of you when you first arrived. Remember?”

Michael strode down the stone walk to his truck. He remembered well his first few years in Perc and was all too aware of the costs Tess White would have to pay if he could not put the pieces together in time.

A coarse whisper choked the words “Murderess! Killer!”

Erin looked up at her through a cloud and stroked her cheek.

A stainless steel blade sliced through clover.

Jessica woke with a jolt. The visions that invaded her head swirled and faded. Snugs paced in her stall, and the mare’s stirrings startled her awake. She stood and stroked the mare’s back and head and rubbed cool water into the horse’s mouth from the bucket in the corner of the stall.

The veterinarian, Ronald Deekman, had come up immediately after Jessica’s call and checked on Snugs. He stood about six feet tall with generous black hair and a bushy black beard. He determined that the mare was indeed in the early stages of active labor and that he would be more needed after she had progressed a little further. He had one other horse to check on and would come back in an hour or so.

Jessica had watched the mare carefully during the examination. Snugs was much more comfortable with Jessica beside her than away, so Jessica had curled up in the corner of the stall and let the painkiller she had taken earlier pull her down into sleep.

She was grateful when the vet returned. The delivery was much tougher on the animal than either Jessica or Ronald could have predicted. The foal presented itself in a breech position, and both worked intensely to move the foal into a better position. The effect was exhausting to the laboring animal. After many hours, a wobbly-legged colt was delivered to the cheers of Jessica and Ronald and the deep groan of the new mother.

Snugs was too tired to even lick her new baby. She raised her head and sniffed at the colt, but that was all she could manage. Jessica quickly grabbed a towel and began to vigorously rub the slippery foal for she knew that these moments were critical to its survival. When new foals are born, it is the mother’s licking that stimulates blood circulation and warmth within the foal. On a cold fall night like this, Jessica did not want the new arrival to get chilled.

Ronald busied himself with getting Snugs to her feet. They had forced her to lie down earlier in the labor to correct the position of the foal. Now he struggled with the sling and pulley to get the mare to stand again. Only then would the foal be able to nurse.

It took a very tense hour, but the colt braced itself on spindly legs and found the warm teats of its dam. Jessica laughed at the loud noises coming from the hungry feeding.

Ronald gave Jessica firm instructions on how to manage the mare. Snugs was very weak and would have to be watched closely over the next few days for signs of infection and other trouble. Although Jessica thanked Ronald profusely for all of his able help, she still hated the fact that she was tied to the farm.