Every Move She Makes (10 page)

“You’ll never be without me, my darling. I look forward to our lunches as much, if not more, than you do.”

Sitting several feet away at the edge of the patio, her needlepoint in her lap, Viola cleared her throat. “If you don’t think you’ll need me for a while, I’ll go to the kitchen and join Bessie for a bite of lunch.”

With a dismissive wave, Carolyn said, “By all means, go have lunch. I’ll be just fine here with my dear friend.”

Her dear friend
. That’s all he’d ever been. All he would ever be. But it was enough. To simply sit here with her. To hear her voice, her laugh. To feel her hand in his. To look at her, so lovely, almost untouched by time. As beautiful now as she’d been at twenty.

“Take me out to the gazebo and read to me.” Carolyn glanced at the hardback book lying on the table beside Jeff Henry’s place mat. “There’s such a nice breeze today. Much cooler than yesterday. But I’m afraid it’s going to rain later.”

“I brought along my copy of
Wuthering Heights
. I know it’s one of your favorites.” He scooted back his chair and rose, then lifted the book and rounded the table. “I’ll read to you until either you grow weary or the rain sets in. We don’t want you getting wet and catching cold.”

He placed the book in her lap, then withdrew her wheelchair from the table and pushed her from the patio to the walkway. When they reached the gazebo, he lifted her into his arms, carried her inside, and placed her on the wicker chaise longue. She leaned her head back on the cushion and closed her eyes, then held out the book to him. He took the book, sat in the swing, and opened to page one.

“Is Webb due to return home today?” he asked.

Carolyn’s eyelids lifted. She sighed. “He telephoned yesterday to say he was staying on in Birmingham until tomorrow. I do wish he’d come on home.”

“You miss him when he’s away, don’t you?” Why was he torturing himself talking to Carolyn about her husband? He supposed it was because Webb Porter was a reality—one that he could not ignore. And if being with Webb was what made Carolyn happy, then he wanted Webb to be here with her.

“Yes, of course I miss him, but I think he should be here keeping watch over Ella.”

“You’re concerned about Reed Conway being released from prison, aren’t you? Surely the man wouldn’t be foolish enough to…” He knew Carolyn too well not to recognize that look of concern on her face. Something had happened that she hadn’t shared with him. He laid the book down on the swing, leaned forward, and captured her gaze with his. “Tell me what has you so worried.”

“I don’t want Webb or Ella to know that I know.”

“Know what?” Jeff Henry realized that Carolyn must have somehow learned about those damn letters and phone calls that Ella had received. But who would have told her? Who else but Viola? The woman was fiercely loyal to Carolyn and was the only person who would have dared to go against Webb’s wishes to keep the worrisome news from her.

“I know about the letters and the phone calls,” Carolyn admitted. “Reed Conway is harassing Ella and there doesn’t seem to be a thing anyone can do about it. They have no proof. But I’m concerned that the man will do something to actually harm Ella. I—I…” Carolyn gasped. A lone tear trickled from the corner of her right eye. She brushed it away with her fingertips.

Jeff Henry sprang out of the swing, dropped to his knees beside the chaise, and cradled Carolyn’s face with his hands. “My darling, what is it? Has something else happened?”

“I saw him. Reed Conway was here in this gazebo on Friday night, with Ella.”

“No! That man has gone too far, actually setting foot on private property. Ella called the police didn’t she?” Jeff Henry took his hands from Carolyn’s face and smoothed them down her shoulders in a comforting gesture before he released her.

“She didn’t call the police and she hasn’t mentioned the incident to anyone,” Carolyn said. “I don’t know what was going on, but to someone who didn’t know them, didn’t know the circumstances, it would have appeared that they were two lovers having a clandestine meeting.”

“My word, you don’t mean it.” Jeff Henry shook his head. He refused to believe that their sweet Ella would have anything to do with that rascal Conway. “Ella wouldn’t give a man like that the time of day.”

“I’m sure you’re right. I think Reed frightens her, but it’s possible that she’s more concerned with what Webb might do to the man than what Reed might do to her. And I tend to feel the same way. But Jeff Henry”—Carolyn grabbed his hand and brought it to her chest, clinging nervously—“I’m so afraid of what Reed Conway might do in order to get revenge against Webb. The man belongs in prison. He’s dangerous to everyone I love.”

“Now, now, dear heart.” Jeff Henry patted her shoulder affectionately. “You mustn’t upset yourself this way. When Webb returns, I’ll speak to him. We’ll find a way to control Reed, even if it means having his parole revoked and returning him to prison.”

Carolyn sighed deeply and gazed at Jeff Henry with such genuine gratitude that it was all he could do to stop himself from kissing her. He longed to press his lips to hers, to take her in his arms and profess his undying love.

“I knew I could count on you to help me.” As she squeezed his hand, she leaned forward and pressed a featherlight kiss on his cheek.

Callahan’s buzzed with the drone of the lunchtime crowd that descended on the restaurant between eleven and two every weekday. Located in the heart of downtown Spring Creek, the restored building, once a drugstore from the early thirties through the mid-eighties, was ideally located to accommodate all the local businesses as well as the courthouse employees and the horde of lawyers whose offices spread out over the small town. Their only competition were two drive-through fast food places and a small sandwich shop. If one conducted a business lunch in town, Callahan’s was the only real choice.

When Ella arrived, the hostess led her to a semiprivate back booth, where Mark Leamon waited. She slid onto the seat, adjusted her skirt and dropped her bag down beside her.

“I ordered their raspberry tea for both of us,” Mark said, nodding toward the tall frosted glasses of flavored tea sitting on decorative paper coasters.

“Thanks.” Ella lifted her glass and took a sip. “Delicious.”

Before she had a chance to begin a conversation, their waiter appeared. “Are you folks ready to order?”

Ella glanced first at her unopened menu and then across the table at Mark, who asked, “Do you need a minute?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’d like the spicy chicken salad.”

The waiter jotted down her order. “And you, sir?”

“The sirloin sandwich,” Mark said. “With fries and onion rings.”

The moment the waiter left them, Ella surveyed Mark’s stocky physique. “Not worried about your weight, are you? Men are so lucky. If a woman is ten pounds over the norm, she worries herself sick about not being attractive.”

“If you’re referring to yourself, cousin, I don’t think you need worry about your figure.”

“Hm…mm. Well, I suppose we could spend our entire lunch indulging in idle chitchat, but that wouldn’t solve our immediate problem, would it?”

Mark groaned. “I fully believe in Reed Conway’s innocence. I think he was wrongfully convicted of his stepfather’s murder, and I know he isn’t the person harassing you.”

“You sound awfully confident.” Ella reached down, snapped open her purse, and removed a white envelope. “Take a look at this. It’s just like the other two I received last week, which my father took to Frank Nelson. And all three letters are very similar to the ones Reed Conway wrote to me when he was first sent to prison.”

Ella handed Mark the envelope. He opened it, took out the letter, and read it quickly, then refolded it and placed it back in the envelope. “Steamy stuff. And admittedly rather unnerving.”

“Yes, steamy and unnerving, to say the least.”

“Ella, if I hadn’t gotten to know Reed so well since I became his lawyer when Father died, I might think him capable of being the author of that trash. But the man I know, the Reed Conway who has struggled to be a model prisoner for the past ten years, would never resort to harassing you or anyone else.”

“You sound very confident.” Ella picked up the letter from where Mark had laid it on the table and put it back in her purse. “My father believes Reed is simply making good on his threats, that he’s trying to torment me because he knows that’s the surest way to hurt my father.”

“Reed doesn’t want to hurt anyone,” Mark assured her. “He wants to find out who really killed Junior Blalock. He wants to clear his name. But first and foremost he wants to stay out of prison. He knows that if he breaks the law, his parole will be revoked. He’s not stupid enough to risk losing his freedom simply to annoy Webb.”

“I want to believe you, but…Reed frightens me. I’ve seen him twice since he’s been home and both times I…well, I walked away from each encounter feeling as if I’d been threatened.”

The waiter interrupted long enough to place a container of freshly baked yeast rolls on the table. In the interim, Mark drank half a glass of tea and while glancing around the restaurant, Ella caught a glimpse of her aunt Cybil at the bar. Her initial reaction was to check on her aunt, try to persuade her not to drink, and then, if necessary, call Uncle Jeff Henry. But Cybil was with friends—a couple of ladies from the local historical society—so that meant she might have a mixed drink before lunch, but she wouldn’t get soused. Aunt Cybil had an uncanny ability to save her binges for times when she was either alone or with family. Ella groaned silently.

“Reed can be very intimidating,” Mark said. “You must remember that he has survived fifteen years in prison. He’s tough and hard. Very hard. And unemotional. But he’s no run-of-the-mill ex-con.”

Mark regained her attention with his comments, so her mind reversed gears and put concerns about her aunt temporarily on the back burner. “Telling me how intimidating and tough Reed is doesn’t ease my fears. If anything, the exact opposite is true.”

“Are you aware of the fact that he gained a college degree while serving time in Donaldson? He had already started working toward his master’s degree when he was released. He is a man who has prepared for a future on the outside. Why would he risk everything he’s worked so hard to achieve just to annoy Webb? I’m telling you, the man isn’t looking for vengeance.”

“I had no idea he’d acquired a degree,” Ella said, completely surprised by this unexpected information. She’d never thought of Reed as the academic type, only the physical type. But except for what others had told her about the man, she really didn’t know Reed. “If that’s true, then why is he working in his cousin’s garage as a mechanic?”

Mark snorted. “Because he isn’t the type to let his mother and sister support him. He was determined to have a job of some kind when he was released from prison, and not one person in this prejudiced town would hire him.”

“Then why didn’t he go somewhere else—Birmingham or Huntsville, where no one knows him?”

“His family is here and so is his past. Reed’s not likely to find Junior’s killer in Huntsville or Birmingham.”

“Okay, let’s say I believe you, that I believe Reed didn’t write the letters to me or make the phone calls.” She had to admit to herself that Mark was quite convincing. But then again, she’d come to this lunch meeting wanting to be convinced. For some inexplicable reason—perhaps a reason too fundamental for her to accept—she needed to believe that Reed Conway was innocent of murder and innocent of harassment. “If Reed is innocent, then who could be harassing me and why?”

The waiter brought their orders, placing Ella’s in front of her and then setting down Mark’s. “Is there anything else y’all need?”

Ella shook her head. Mark said, “No, thank you. We’re fine.” Ella lifted her fork from where it rested on her white linen napkin.

“There are several possibilities,” Mark told her as he uncapped the ketchup bottle. “First, perhaps someone who’s gone through your court in the past year has decided to harass you.” Mark tapped the bottle and ketchup poured onto his plate between the fries and the onion rings. “Second, you could have a lovesick suitor with a very dirty mind.” Mark dipped a long, thick fry into the ketchup. “Or third, someone is trying to frame Reed, trying to implicate him in the harassment.”

Ella used her fork to mix the honey-mustard dressing thoroughly through her salad. “And why would anyone want to do such a thing?”

Mark ate his french fry and then dipped another. “Someone who wants Reed back in prison. Someone who can’t afford for the real truth about Junior Blalock’s murder to come out.”

“The killer,” Ella heard herself say; then suddenly she realized she had all but confessed to Mark that she, too, believed that Reed was innocent. “I mean, if Reed isn’t the real killer.”

“Something tells me that you know he’s not, that your gut instincts tell you that although he may intimidate you, might even frighten you a little, he isn’t a murderer.”

“If I get any more letters or any more phone calls, my family won’t rest until—”

“Then don’t tell Webb about this third letter. Don’t play this game with Junior’s real killer. If you don’t cooperate with what he or she is trying to accomplish, then it’ll stop.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“My bet is this person’s goal is to get Reed in trouble—enough trouble to have his parole revoked—so if this scheme of harassing you doesn’t work, there’ll be no need to keep it up.”

“Let’s say your scenario is correct, then what’s to stop this person from escalating the harassment? Maybe he or she has more in mind than just letters and phone calls.”

“Ella, I don’t think you’re in any danger,” Mark said. “After all, whoever’s doing this has no reason to harm you. Reed is the target, not you.”

“Do you think Reed’s life is in danger?”
And just why should you care?
she asked herself.
Reed Conway is nothing to you. Nothing except an annoyance. A seductive nightmare that won’t go away
.

“I believe that somewhere out there in our safe little town is a killer who got away with murder fifteen years ago and has no intention of letting Reed unearth the truth about who really murdered Junior and why. Yes, Reed’s in danger. And you might well be the one person who can help him.”

At six-thirty Ella parked her Jag in front of The Cozy Corner, a bookstore that also sold speciality gifts and greeting cards and boasted the only gourmet coffee bar in town. She went inside the shop to find a new paperback to read tonight. She desperately needed something—anything—to take her mind off Reed Conway. She had to stop wondering about his guilt or innocence. She couldn’t continue allowing herself to worry that her father might have helped convict an innocent man.

“Ella!”

The moment she heard someone calling her name, she scanned the area from which the voice had come. The coffee bar. There sat Heather, and at her side was a rather attractive man. Although Ella thought he looked familiar, she didn’t immediately recognize him. Heather merely waved but didn’t invite Ella to join her. Just as well. She didn’t want to intrude when Heather was making a new conquest. And since her recent divorce, those new conquests seemed to be a weekly if not daily event.

When she passed the greeting cards section on her way to the paperback fiction aisle, Ella noticed her aunt Cybil. She hadn’t gotten a chance to say hello at Callahan’s earlier today because by the time she had finished her lunch with Mark, her aunt had already left. Ella altered her path just enough to stop and speak.

“Hello, Aunt Cybil. How are you this evening?”

“Ella, how nice to see you. I wish you’d make time for us to get together some time soon. I miss our tennis games.” Cybil’s smile was weak and rather melancholy.

She adored her aunt, despite Cybil’s gradual descent into alcoholism. Because her mother had been confined to a wheelchair all Ella’s life, her aunt had been the one who’d taken her shopping for clothes and school supplies, the one who had taught her to play tennis and to swim. In many ways, Cybil had been as much of a mother to her as Carolyn had been.

“Why don’t we go to the movies together next weekend?” Ella suggested. “We’ll find ourselves a light-hearted romantic comedy to see. Then we’ll go somewhere and pig out on hot fudge sundaes.”

“Oh, darling girl, don’t you know that all romances are comedies. In real life and in the movies. We’re all a bunch of silly fools when it comes to love.” When Cybil took an unsteady step toward her, Ella realized that her aunt was tipsy. Strange how sober Cybil could talk when she couldn’t walk a straight line.

“You didn’t drive yourself here, did you?” If so, Ella had every intention of taking Cybil’s keys away from her and escorting her home.

“Lord, no. Jeff Henry brought me. He’s parked up the street. He’s such a meany. He wouldn’t let me come down here by myself to pick up a birthday card for Sue Ellen Ricks, and he knows Sue Ellen always sends me a card. Every year. Without fail.”

“Did you find her a nice card?” Ella glanced at the large, pink card that Cybil clutched to her chest.

“Quite lovely. See?” She held the card out for Ella’s perusal.

“Would you like for me to walk you outside to meet Uncle Jeff Henry after you pay for the card?”

“Nonsense, darling girl. I’m perfectly capable of finding my way back to Jeff Henry’s Cadillac. The way y’all treat me, you’d think I’m as much of an invalid as Carolyn is. And you know that’s not true. It’s just that sometimes I drink a little too much.”

“I don’t mind walking you—”

“Are you meeting someone for coffee?” Cybil deftly changed the subject. “I noticed Heather had a good-looking young man with her. That’s what you need. I would so like to see you in love. You need a man of your own. Someone to love you as much as you love him.”

“I’m dating Dan Gilmore and he’s a very nice man.”

“Dan Gilmore. Yuck.” Cybil giggled. “No…niece of mine…would be in love with that stuffed shirt.”

“I didn’t say I was in love with him.”

“Good. I’d hate to think of you wasting your love and your life on a man who would never appreciate you.” Cybil leaned over and kissed Ella’s cheek. “My precious, precious little Ella.”

Ella returned the kiss and took her aunt’s arm. Cybil pulled free and walked away, stopping at the end of the check-out line. If only there were some way she could help her aunt. Everyone in the family had tried to help her, but to no avail. Cybil had always been a social drinker, but only in the past few years had her drinking become a problem. And those bouts of drunkenness, which used to occur about once a month, were now happening at least once a week, and occasionally more often.

She knew Cybil was unhappy with her life. Her aunt had never worked outside the home and she only dabbled in charity work. When she’d been younger, she had been a debutante. Now, Cybil belonged to all the social clubs in the area, but her membership in most of the organizations had lapsed. Her marriage to Jeff Henry seemed to be a farce, which often made Ella wonder why the two had ever married. They seemed totally unsuited. When Ella had asked her father about it, he’d said that Jeff Henry had wed the closest thing to Carolyn he could find. And he believed that, at one time, Cybil might have actually loved Jeff Henry.

Their marriage had produced no children, and Ella didn’t know whether they had decided to remain childless, or one of them was incapable of having children. All her life, her aunt and uncle had doted on her, and it was obvious they both loved children. Perhaps they should have adopted, the way her own parents had when they found out that Carolyn could never have a child of her own.