A Memory Worth Dying For (3 page)

“That’s because it scares me to death to think about them. They were horrible, abusive—ragged breathing . . . threats. He threatened the people around me if I told anyone—all my new friends. I couldn’t think of anyone that mad at me—enough to actually threaten me—except Daniel. He was so mad when he banned me from the house—I thought he was behind it all.” She covered her face with her hands. “He threw me out of the only home I’d ever known.” Her voice broke, and she sobbed.

Sandra led her to the bed. She wrapped her arms around Marti’s shoulders.

“It’s okay, love. Keep your spirits up. The threats stopped when you moved here, so you don’t have to worry about them anymore. If the constables said they can prove Daniel wasn’t involved, maybe you should believe them and go back and talk to him.”

Marti sniffed.

“It doesn’t matter now, anyway. Talking to him won’t do any good. There’s nothing I can do.”

Sandra propped her hands on her hips. “Rubbish! Martha Anne Rushing, that doesn’t sound like the woman I know. It’s not like you to give up. I’ve heard you say a million times you’d like to talk to Daniel. Now when you have the chance, you run in the opposite direction.” Her tone softened. “You still love him, don’t you?”

Marti nodded miserably. “The orphanage director, Mrs. Timms, used to tell me that one day I’d find my match—my amigo del alma, she called it. I knew it was Daniel the first time I saw him.”

Sandra raised her brows. “Amigo del alma means . . .?”

“The friend of my soul,” explained Marti.

“Sweet Marti. Don’t give up. Fight for him. Go talk to him. He’s probably still in town. Find out why he forced you to leave Texas. You’ll never heal until you do.”

“How can I fight when I can’t remember any of what he’s accusing me of?” Marti stood and walked to the open window.

“Well, find out what he
says
happened, love. Who knows? If you get it all out in the open, you might work things out between you.”

Marti clenched and unclenched her fists.

“No. He had his chance. I kept waiting for him to call me and say he was wrong . . . to say he was sorry . . . to ask me to come back.”

“You didn’t exactly stay in one place long enough for him to find you now, did you?”

Marti felt frustrated. “I guess not. I kept roaming around—trying to forget. When the stalker’s calls and vandalism began, I ran—out of terror. I was convinced it was Daniel.”

“Maybe Daniel tried to find you, and you didn’t know.”

Marti balked, and the anger built inside her like a windstorm. “Don’t stand up for him, Sandra. If he cared, he would have found me. As far as I’m concerned, he can have Veronica if he wants her. He deserves her. Daniel and Veronica grew up together, but he won’t know what hit him if he ends up married to her. She’s a chameleon—changing according to whomever she’s with. In front of Daniel, she’s this shy, agreeable, pleasant angel, but when he steps out of the room, she’s a scheming, manipulative, selfish witch.” She fumed a minute before adding, “They’re perfect for each other. Daniel will be miserable married to her, and he deserves her.” She crossed her arms and looked at Sandra defiantly.

Sandra moved to stand beside her and gave her a hug. “You don’t mean that, love. I hear a touch of denial in your voice, but it’s your call to make. I still say you’re making a mistake. Why don’t you come with me and Vivian to the art exhibit in Vick this weekend? You’ve worked so hard—you deserve a little time off—time to think, and maybe pray about what to do.”

“Yeah, right, like that’s gonna happen.” Marti laced her words with sarcasm. “You know what I think about praying. Hashtag: pointless.”

Sandra gave Marti a look but didn’t say a word.

“It might be nice to get away for a while. Do you think your sister would mind if I tagged along?”

“Of course not. Hashtag: the more the merrier—to quote your little Twitter language. Teaching you how to tweet has sure made life interesting.” Sandra smiled and changed the subject. “I have some Yorkshire pudding downstairs. Are you hungry?”

“Not now. Maybe later.”

After Sandra descended the short flight of stairs, Marti turned to stare out the open window, wishing things were different. Wishing with all her heart she could go back and confront the problems between her and Daniel but knowing it was impossible.

There was nothing she could do about the past, but she
would
control her future. She’d made a life for herself and was moving on.

“My happiness will never again depend on a man.”

And that was one promise she intended to keep.

As she spoke to the stars twinkling in the night sky, a shiver traveled down her spine. Without warning, goose bumps popped out on her arms. Eyes from somewhere in the darkness watched her—like before. She could feel their intense gaze. She jerked the shutters closed and peeked through the tiny slits. Searching the darkness for a face and finding none, she stepped back away from the window. Was it her imagination?

Something crackled in the air, like the wind of the first frost. The simple decision to ignore her past and embrace the future was about to change her life. She could feel it.

Hashtag: warning.

THREE

THE RED STUB OF A
cigarette glowed and ebbed as the man standing in the shadows watched the wind blow the curtains in the upstairs window across the street. A cell phone was pressed against his head, and he waited for his contact to pick up.

“Yeah?”

“I found her.”

“Great. Now, I have another job for you to do.”

His disgusted grunt preceded his growl. “I thought I already took care of our little bargain.”

“You did, but if you do this, I’ll make it worth your while . . . say maybe half of the insurance money.”

Silence filled the space. He was definitely interested. “Half, you say? That’s a good chunk o’ change. I want it all in cash—just like before.”

“All right.”

“What do I have to do this time?”

“Same as before.”

“Why? What’s happened?”

“Never mind. Just do it. I don’t want her back in Texas, and she might have reason to think about coming back again.”

“She’s nowhere near Texas now. Why the panic?”

“Just do it, and don’t ask questions. I’m paying you—that’s all you need to know. Do what you have to do to keep her moving around and out of Texas. And this time, no mistakes. You almost got caught last time. Stick to the plan.”

“I knew what I was doin’. She didn’t go back to Texas, did she?”

“Okay, okay.”

“How far do you want me to go?”

“This time you’ll have to make it a little more plain. Go as far as you need to.”

His voice grew harsh. “Even if it means—”

The person on the other end of the phone interrupted. “Shut up! You don’t know who might be listening. I don’t want the whole world overhearing our plans, do you? Just do what you have to.”

“You got it, pardner.” The whisper in the phone almost sounded gleeful.

“And stop calling me that. I’m not your pardner.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Don’t forget . . . you get caught, you’re on your own. If you try to implicate me, you know the dirt I have on you—it’d be a shame if the police got hold of it.”

“Right to the point . . . like always. ’Night, pardner.”

He slammed his phone shut.

“You’re on your own,” he mimicked toward the stars with clenched teeth. The stub of his cigarette fell to the ground, and he stomped out the glowing ember with his shoe. That remark infuriated him. Just because he’d served time in prison for murder didn’t mean he’d let himself get careless again.

The night was as silent and as black as a tomb. He plodded down the street and grumbled. His lips twisted in a look of anticipation. Murder was always messy, but he could handle it if necessary.

FOUR

MARTI WAS SURE HER LAUGHTER
could be heard tinkling through the warped windows on the rundown brick building and out into the street, but she didn’t care. It felt good to laugh.

She brushed the last stroke of polyurethane on the wooden sign propped against the inside wall of the building and dropped her brush in a jar of paint thinner. The words, “
Landeville’s Haven for the Homeless
” gleamed across the front of the sign in glossy black paint.

In the same room, a petite blonde descended a stepladder, swiped at a loose strand of hair, and turned to Marti.

“That’s funny, coming from you, Marti. You know I couldn’t paint a stick figure if my life depended on it.”

“Alana Holbrook, you’re just using flattery so I won’t quit in the middle of painting this mural and leave you and Jaydn high and dry. Hashtag: desperate,” Marti teased as she walked across the room and grinned at her friend.

Alana’s laughter echoed in the empty room. “You and those hashtags! But you’re right; we’d be lost without you. Staying so busy at the orphanage, Jaydn and I would go crazy if we didn’t have you to help us get this place up and running. And your suggestion for the mural was a great idea. I love the neighborhood approach.”

Marti picked up a small artist’s brush to finish the details on the wall mural and stood back to look at the neighborhood scene on the wall. “Thanks, Alana. I wanted this wall to symbolize the American Dream. You know . . . a house, a family, a dog, a friendly neighborhood filled with kids playing basketball, washing cars, and mowing lawns. I want to infuse every homeless person who comes in here with enough drive to grasp that dream for themselves—encourage them to strive for a home of their own one day.”

Alana looked happy. “You have a big heart, Marti.”

Marti shook her head. “Not as big as yours and Jaydn’s. I think it’s great what you’re doing. Opening a homeless shelter here in Landeville has to be a huge undertaking, especially when you donate so much to the orphanage in Bishop.”

“Jaydn and I decided a long time ago that the money God blessed us with would always be used for helping others. This homeless shelter was a dream of my mom and dad’s, and we don’t care how much work it takes or how much money it costs to get it up and running; it’s something we’re both determined to complete.”

Alana blew out a satisfied breath and swished her paint brush around in the water vat to wash off the paint. “I’m done here. The guys are gonna love this. I think the color on this wall brings out the colors in your mural. Wise choice, my dear.”

Marti stretched her back then studied the maroon color of Alana’s wall and how it bounced off the colors of the mural. “I think you’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

They both giggled.

“I’m wise and you’re right. What a combination.”

Marti turned and looked at the floor to ceiling mural she was painting. It was almost done—just a few touches here and there.

“Hey! How did your exhibit go yesterday?”

Marti’s smile slipped a little, but she covered it with deep breath. “It went good. I sold several paintings and have a couple of portrait commissions coming up. Hashtag—”

“I know,” Alana interrupted and laughed. “Hashtag: success.”

“Right.” Marti smiled at her friend.

“Good. You deserve it. You’re a talented artist.” Alana glanced at the clock on the wall. “Oh my! Look what time it is. My babysitter will be wondering if I got lost on the way home.” Alana laid the clean paint brush on the table covered with various painting paraphernalia and pulled the tarp over the top.

“How’s sweet little Dean doing these days?”

“He’s cutting teeth, and that makes him a little cranky. Other than that, he’s growing like a weed. Next week he’ll be ten months old. He’s already taking a few steps. Before we know it, he’ll be walking everywhere and getting into all the mischief he can . . . just like his daddy.”

Marti laughed and took a deep breath. A quiver rose in her voice. “I’m going to finish this wall tonight, Alana. Then I might take a break for a few days.”

Alana cocked her head. “You going somewhere, Marti?”

Marti nodded. “Yep. I thought I might go to the Tennessee Equestrian Competition in Vick next week.”

“I didn’t know you were interested in horses.”

Marti shrugged. “I used to ride a long time ago, but I haven’t ridden in years. Sandra and her sister are going to a big art sale at a gallery in downtown Vick. When I found out about the horse competition, I thought it’d be fun to go along and check it out.”

“That’s neat. I’ve learned something interesting about my new friend.” Alana grinned as she put her arm around Marti’s shoulders.

“Yeah, well, even though I don’t ride anymore, it’s still fun to watch.”

“Okay . . . if I don’t see you before you leave, have a good time. We’ll be taking a trip too, in about three weeks. We’re headed down to Texas.”

A sudden shiver traveled through Marti’s veins. “Texas?”

Alana nodded. “There’s a fundraiser for the orphanage in one of the towns in east Texas. I forget the name, but Jaydn knows. We promised to show up and sort of prod the fundraising efforts. I guess I’ll see you when you get back.” She leaned over and hugged Marti. “Don’t be gone too long now. I’m counting on you next month to help serve our grand opening luncheon.”

Marti let out a relieved sigh. “You can count on it. I’ll be back long before then.”

Alana picked up her purse and keys from the table by the door and waved as she stepped outside.

A shaky breath followed a sigh as Marti stepped over to the heavy metal door and turned the deadbolt.

The faint orange glow of the evening sky faded into darkness while Marti put the finishing touches on the brick house in the middle of the mural.

When Marti laid down her brush, the silence of the night crept into her awareness. She raised her head and swallowed as the darkness filtering in through the tall glass windows at the front of the building seemed to wrap around her body. Shivering, she hurried to gather her tools and get home before the clock spun around to midnight.

She stored her tote full of brushes in the cabinet and slung her purse over her shoulders. The lock opened easily, and the heavy door swung open. She stepped outside and reached back in to flip off the building lights before turning the key in the lock. When the lights went out, the darkness enveloped her, and fog clung to her like a shimmering spider web.