One Last Hold (20 page)

He’d been moved from ICU and was now allowed visitors.

She knocked on his door before entering, but received no response. She poked her head in to see he appeared asleep.

Tiptoeing in, she closed the door and set a vase of flowers on the table. He looked so helpless, not like the man she was accustomed to fighting with. Tubes were attached to his chest and a monitor kept a steady beep. His prognosis was good and she hoped he would be out soon. Maybe then she could find some answers she needed.

Not ready to disturb him yet, she turned to leave, but he called out to her. She faced him to find him watching her. He tried to offer a full-fledged smile but only managed a contortion. She’d take what she could get. At least it meant he was still breathing.

His finger signaled her to come near. She walked to him and clasped his hand. “How are you?”

“How do I look?” he asked.

Bandages covered parts of his body. Deep scratches lined his face. His paleness overcome by yellow bruising. “You’re lucky to be alive. Lucky to be conscious right now.”

Blake struggled to sit up and grimaced. Caitlyn pressed a hand on his chest, urging him to stay put.

“I’m sorry this happened,” she said.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Caitlyn scooted a chair closer and sat, not at all sure what to talk about now. She wanted answers. She wanted to know why he printed that article with her name on it besides ratings. She wanted to know how Blake knew about it and why he made Wesley sound like a cold-hearted jerk.

And she wanted to know why he had Wesley’s family tree.

“Is everything okay between us?” Blake asked, attempting to tear a piece of paper from the napkin on his bedside.

“Not really, but I hate that this happened to you.”

Blake stuck the napkin in his mouth and chewed on it like bubble gum. “I’m sorry about everything.”

“Sorry about the article printed in your magazine containing my byline?” Blake averted his eyes. “I should sue you,” she continued. “Wesley should sue you.”

“Nothing in there is false.”

“How do you know? You told me you didn’t know anything about him. Come to find out, you do. Even if it isn’t false to an extent, it makes him sound inhumane. I can tell you he isn’t.”

“It sounds like you really care about him.”

“I’ve known him since I was six years old. I thought I was going to marry him once. Of course I care about him. He’s like family.”

“I’ve never had a close family,” Blake admitted, the first insight into his personal life that she remembered. She only realized now how little she knew about him but knowing how important keeping the past a part of the past was, she never brought it up. “You’re about the only family I have.”

“Families don’t do what you did to me.”

Blake sighed, tried to move, and winced. He was tired and she should let him rest, but the mixture of sympathy and anger kept her grounded to the chair.

“There are a few things you should know,” he said. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt for you to know them.”

“What?”

Blake hesitated. Whatever he had to say obviously wasn’t easy, and for a moment she felt guilty. At this point in her life, Caitlyn was ready to walk away. Now with Johnson supposedly running the magazine, she didn’t want to work there anymore. She’d lost her ambition, her trust in Blake and in her job, and it was time for her to look elsewhere.

But the stacks of paperwork still hidden in his office kept her hanging on. If she left now, she would have no connection to the information, which might be vital. Until she and Wesley solved this mystery, she had no intention of going anywhere.

“My son…” he trailed off, “was recently killed.”

Surprise shot through her. Blake had been married? And he had a child?

“I’m…sorry for your loss.” What else could she say? His loss didn’t give him an excuse to ruin her life, her name. She was waiting for that explanation.

“I got married when I was young but it didn’t last long. She left me. I didn’t know I had a son until he was half-grown. She was already remarried and he knew that man as his father. I wouldn’t let up until she told him about me and we had a chance to get to know each other.”

“What was his name?”

The roaring AC drowned out the silence, but it was their conversation that brought chills to her arms. Blake hesitated too long.

The nurse returned to check on him. After she left, Caitlyn rose from her chair and paced.

“Blake? What was his name?”

He huffed out a breath. “Chad Armstrong.”

“What?” She stumbled back as cold rushed into her core. Her mouth opened, going dry. Blake shifted his weight to sit up higher.

“Can you put this pillow behind my back?” he asked.

She obliged, then sat and stared at him, demanding to know more.

He closed his eyes and, even without bandages, he’d be impossible to read. She wasn’t sure he was well enough to be having this conversation, yet she’d selfishly draw everything out of him she could.

“What a coincidence he was into racing, also, and one of Wesley’s prime opponents,” she accused, finally finding her voice.

“I’ve always enjoyed racing. I kept up with Wesley’s accomplishments. Chad met Johnson, unaware his relationship with his son was strained. That made him want to try out racing and he succeeded. He always looked up to Wesley. There were reasons why he shouldn’t let Wesley know he knew his dad and he understood. But he loved racing. And did it for no other reason.”

“And why is that?” she asked.

“Why is what?” His eyes opened. They were red, dry, and tired.

Where was her sympathy?

“Why shouldn’t Chad let Wesley know he knew his dad?”

“Oh come on, Caitlyn. You know the reasons. Chad and Wesley’s relationship was already difficult. Why should he add to that?”

“Then why did you send me to do a story on Wesley?”

“Reasons I already told you. I found out you knew him and hoped you could use that advantage to get a story on him. Our magazine has been falling behind lately.”

“Apparently, you already knew the story on him,” she said, on the verge of admitting what she found in his office. “You printed it. I want to know what’s going on. I want to know why you printed that story.”

“Because I thought it would get a better reception than your heartfelt hero’s story,” he said. “As I told you, our magazine is flagging and I needed something worthwhile to be printed.”

“Or maybe because you blame him for your son’s death.”

“No,” Blake said, but it didn’t convince her.

“I don’t believe you.” Caitlyn rose from the chair and turned away lest she pummel his already beaten body. She had to get out of here but before she left, she turned to him, holding on to the doorknob for support. “Something’s going on. Your son’s been murdered and I can’t help but wonder if it’s the same reason that put you in this hospital. You print this story in your magazine and expect me to accept it and Johnson is the reason this magazine exists in the first place. Believe me, I will find out what’s going on.”

“Drop it, Caitlyn. Please.”

“Why?”

When Blake didn’t answer, she opened the door. “Bye Blake. I’ll be praying for you.”

“Caitlyn,” he croaked. She paused, waiting to see if he’d changed his mind and was now willing to tell her something. Anything.

“Watch your back.”

*

“Cut.”

The ringing of Wesley’s cell phone interrupted the commercial he was filming, and the scowl on the director’s face relayed his annoyance. Wesley normally didn’t do commercials, but this was for his sponsor’s new and improved oil.

Unfortunately for the camera people, Wesley’s car and crew members were in a slight crisis hundreds of miles away and needed to call him regularly. This was the third time in less than two hours. And, also unfortunate for the director and his crew, Wesley’s problem was a lot more important than a damned commercial.

But this time it wasn’t Adam. “Hello, Wesley.”

“Rayma?”

“Yes, I’ve been trying to reach Caitlyn, but she hasn’t answered her cell.”

“She went to see Blake in the hospital,” Wesley said, somewhat irritated. How had Rayma gotten his cell phone number? “She’s not here.”

“I’m sorry to be calling your cell phone. Caitlyn said absolutely do not use it unless it’s an emergency, and I thought this might constitute one.”

“What is it?” Wesley ambled away from the onlookers and waved his hand, indicating he’d get back with them in a minute.

“I really need to find Caitlyn.”

Wesley’s blood ran cold. “Is she in danger?”

“She could be. I just found out Chad was Blake’s son.”

“You’re kidding?” Wesley clamped a hand to his chest and glanced around, scanning the crowd for his father.

Caitlyn had gone to see Blake, but Johnson decided to stay and visit with his son. Wesley, determined not to let his dad’s presence bother him, went on about his business, showing his dad just how busy he was. They didn’t have time to talk, much less sit down and visit, which was fine with him. Wesley couldn’t figure why Johnson chose to stick around, why he chose to watch the filming. Other than the excuse his dad had used that he wanted to pursue a relationship with his son. But that out was out the question. Wesley had no desire to get to know his dad now. Not after everything.

Instead of seeing his dad, he saw two officers speaking to the director, who pointed Wesley’s direction.

“Oh fuck,” he muttered. “Rayma, I’ve got to go. Please find Caitlyn, make sure she’s okay.”

“Wesley Webb?” One officer asked as they approached.

”Yeah,” he huffed, ending the call.

“You’re under arrest for the murder of Chad Armstrong.”

*

“I’ve filed a writ to hear before the judge to see if we can get you out of here.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that. I have my own attorney.” As a matter of fact, Wesley had already been in contact with him.

“You’ve been charged with murder. You need all the help you can get.”

“You’re not licensed to practice law in North Carolina. Only Texas.”

“Actually, I have a license in both states.” Johnson sat back in his seat and adjusted his tie.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Wesley scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Good thing, huh?”

“Yeah,” Wesley muttered. “A big fucking celebration.”

“No need to be so pissy about it.”

“I’m being charged with murder, and my dad wants to be my attorney. My dad, who also has a license to practice law in the state Chad was killed in.”

Johnson shrugged. “Sorry. Don’t forget we lived here before we moved to Texas.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten.”

“They found your fingerprints in Chad’s RV. Easily explained.” Johnson held up his hand to silence his son’s forthcoming outburst. “You worked with the victim. You probably visited his trailer on more than one occasion.”

The statement proved his dad was accustomed to the defense side of an equation. No matter his client’s guilt or innocence. Wesley wasn’t guilty, and it pissed him off to be here, in this tiny room, talking with the man who’d appointed himself Wesley’s legal counsel. It pissed him off to be here, locked in jail with actual felons, all of who eyeballed him like he’d be their next tasty meal. Lucky for him, the jailer was a racing fan and had given Wesley his own cell. For now.

Wesley would miss Sunday’s race, and possibly the next few races, losing valuable points in the long haul.

And he was the only suspect. Were the cops giving up their investigation and going on the only information they found? It was crazy. The only thing they had to go on was fingerprints and a family tree. Fingerprints might be probable cause to arrest, but not to keep him there indefinitely, without bail?

“Tell me how you know Blake.”

“What has that got to do with any of this?” Johnson asked.

“Blake is Caitlyn’s boss. Come to find out, you’re his silent partner. He sends her to do a story on me the same day Chad is killed. Chad, as you know, is Blake’s son. And let’s not forget Keegan is dating Caitlyn’s best friend. It’s like one big fucking family reunion.”

*

Rayma knocked on Caitlyn’s door after Caitlyn stewed, mulled, and attempted to call Wesley several times. They left the information she’d found in his trailer so she didn’t have that to study, and nothing else would hold her attention. She was tempted to return to Blake’s office and search some more but heeded Wesley’s warning.

Blake was hiding something. But he’d refused to tell her anything else.

Rayma waltzed through the door and helped herself to Caitlyn’s wine. “Here, have a drink.”

Reminded Caitlyn of the last time she had opened a bottle and where it ended up, now part of the pages of the magazine she kept as a reminder of many things. For one, why she needed to stay with her job a little longer.

“Everything okay?” Caitlyn leaned her elbow on the counter and watched her friend drain her drink and pace across the living room.

She was nervous herself. She’d been looking over her shoulder since she left the hospital after Blake’s threatening words. He’d assured her he was only concerned about her wellbeing and just wanted her to be cautious.

Yeah, right.

“You’re making me nervous, Rayma. Would you sit down and stop fidgeting?”

“I talked to Wesley today. I’ve been trying to call you.”

“You talked to Wesley?”

Rayma set down her empty glass and flexed her fingers, turning away from Caitlyn to pace again. “Yeah, I was trying to find you. Wanted to let you know what I found out about Blake.”

“Blake told me about Chad.”

Rayma’s head snapped around. Thank God she had finally stopped pacing.

Caitlyn sighed, sagged on the couch, and Rayma joined her. “He admitted that Chad was his son. Said he was married for a short while—”

“No,” Rayma interrupted.

“No?”

“No. He wasn’t married. He had an affair.
She
was married.”

Caitlyn’s heart sank. Another lie. “That’s not what he told me.”

Caitlyn curled her feet up under her as Rayma grabbed her laptop from the table and fired it up.

“When did you talk to Wesley?” Caitlyn asked as she studied her friend’s stilted movements. “I’ve been trying to call him all evening.”