Midnight Secrets

chapter

TWENTY-TWO


Three hours later, Savannah was headed back to the house. Exhaustion dimmed her reeling thoughts. She had spent several eye-straining hours reading old newspapers and was no closer to finding the truth. In fact, she thought dismally, she felt as if she was even further from the truth than before.

Midnight Tales, aptly named since it held more gossip than real news, was now a weekly newspaper. Eighteen years ago, it had been printed daily. The library had a copy on microfiche of every edition the newspaper had produced. The murder-suicide had been such big news that the newspaper had actually printed two papers a day for seven days. Every salacious event had been painstakingly detailed. The police chief, the coroner, the maid who’d found her mother’s body, and all the people who had heard the argument between Maggie and Beckett at the country club had all been interviewed. Each interview seemed to lead to the same conclusion—that Beckett Wilde had killed his wife in a drunken rage and then committed suicide.

Savannah remembered that her grandfather had stopped his subscription to the newspaper after her parents’ deaths, but she hadn’t asked why. She had certainly never read the articles until now but could see why they had infuriated Daniel Wilde, especially if he believed his son was innocent. The articles had painted her father as a philanderer and a drunken womanizer. The eyewitness accounts of Beckett’s argument with his wife were particularly damning.

There had been shouting. Savannah couldn’t discount it since there were so many witnesses. However, her sweet-natured mother losing her temper and making a scene was so out of character. What had set Maggie Wilde off?

Tomorrow she would begin a low-key investigation. As she had promised Aunt Gibby, she would be as subtle as possible. Not only for Gibby’s sake but also for her own. Having the town gossips scurrying around with news that Savannah was investigating Beckett’s and Maggie’s deaths after all these years wasn’t something she wanted revealed. Not only because she simply hated being the subject of gossips, but also because she didn’t know where this would lead. What if the murderer still lived in Midnight?

Savannah blew out a relieved sigh as she turned onto Wildefire Lane, seeing a hot bubble bath and a glass of wine in her immediate future. She needed the downtime to allow her thoughts to coalesce and to make plans.

Tomorrow her first order of business would be to talk to the former police chief, Harlan Mosby. He wasn’t in good health and was in a hospital in Mobile. Had he been involved? Or had he been paid to shut the investigation down? If not, then why had he made those vague threats to her grandfather about taking care of his granddaughters?

Her mind on the myriad avenues she might have to pursue, she was almost at the house before she saw that she had company. Zach’s car was parked in the drive and he was sitting in a rocker on the porch, waiting for her.

Should she reveal her suspicions to him? What proof did she have yet other than the writings of a lonely, brokenhearted man? Besides, this thing with Zach was too new. The way they had parted this morning showed just how fragile things were. Introducing something of this magnitude was sure to create problems.

By the time she’d parked and was headed up the walkway, Savannah knew she would wait until she had more fodder for her suspicions. She shushed the voice inside her head that told her she didn’t completely trust him.

Zach watched Savannah approach and tried to gauge her mood. The way he’d walked out on her this morning hadn’t exactly been his finest hour. Getting her car serviced and detailed had been in part an apology for stomping out the door like a six-year-old brat. He’d also done it simply because it was in his nature to take care of her. He had missed ten years of that, and if she’d let him, he wanted to make up for it.

The next few minutes might well tell him how his plans were going to go.

She looked good. Maybe a little tired but still so damn beautiful his teeth hurt. He’d done a lot of thinking over the last few hours and hoped like hell that the direction he planned to take would work. Glancing around at his handiwork, he suddenly wondered just how it could. This had to be the lamest way to win a woman’s affection since cavemen stopped clubbing their women over the heads and started wooing them instead.

“Hi,” Zach said.

Her smile was bright, if a little wary, and Zach took that as a good sign.

“Hi yourself.” She gestured at the sack at his feet. “Whatcha got there?”

“A little bribe.”

She sat down in the rocker next to him and peeked into the bag. Laughing, she shook her head. “You’re the only man I know who would try to bribe a woman with purple hull peas.”

Something tightened in his chest as he heard the familiar beautiful sound. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the sound of her laughter until she’d come back home. “I remembered how you used to like them. I helped Mrs. Lyman out today … she gave me some fresh vegetables from her garden.”

Astonishment widened her eyes. “Sour Lyman?”

Zach snorted. “I’d forgotten that was her nickname in school. Were you in her science class?”

“Thankfully no. She retired the year before I could take her class. I remember seeing her in school. She always seemed angry about something.”

He couldn’t deny that. Delores Lyman had been one of the most reviled teachers in school, seeming to go out of her way to make her students hate her. Zach had taken her class, and despite his working his ass off studying, she’d still almost flunked him. He had thought then and still believed that a lot of her attitude had to do with loneliness. She had no family and few friends. Since he’d come home, he’d made a point of dropping in on her at least once a week to make sure she was okay. And though the elderly woman acted as if it was a huge imposition for him to visit, she always had lemonade and cookies for him. On his lunch break today, he had fixed her leaky faucet. In return, she had offered him fresh peas, okra, squash, and tomatoes.

“The wine’s a nice touch.” She took the glass of wine he offered her and sipped appreciatively. “Red wine, soft music in the background, and purple hull peas. Chief Tanner, you sure do know the way to a girl’s heart.”

He hoped to hell that was true. “You don’t have to cook them if you don’t want to. I just thought it’d be nice to sit out here in the early evening breeze, sip wine, and shell peas.”

“I haven’t shelled peas since I left home.”

She pulled a handful of pea pods from the sack and took the empty bowl he handed her. For a while, the only sounds were Chopin’s Nocturne in C Minor, chirping crickets, and the plop of raw peas falling into bowls. His muscles loosened with each second that passed. Maybe this wasn’t the most sophisticated way to win a woman’s affection, but Savannah had always been different. The tension that had been on her face had eased, replaced by a relaxed serenity.

She broke the silence at last. “How did everything go with Henson and Dayton today? I’m surprised I didn’t hear any gossip about their arrests.”

“They’re already out of jail.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I figured. How much was the bond set for?”

“No bond. There weren’t any charges.”

She stopped shelling and gawked at him. “No charges? You caught them in the act. How could there be no charges?”

From her perspective, he could see where she’d think letting them go was stupid. Yes, he lawfully could have charged them and they might have even served a few months in jail, depending upon which judge drew the case. But Zach saw no purpose in that. The crimes had been against him personally, not anyone else. When Zach had told Henson that a requirement for his release was to call his insurance company and withdraw the claims, he’d been pleased to learn that Henson had never filed any. Maybe the man wasn’t as stupid as he looked. Insurance companies took a very grim view of insurance fraud.

“I let them go with a warning. Didn’t see a need to take it further.”

“That’s ridiculous, Zach. After what Henson did to you? And Dayton is an officer of the law. He should be held to a higher standard.”

“What Henson did years ago has no bearing on this case. And Dayton’s no longer an officer of the law. Both he and Henson know what will happen if anything similar occurs.”

She shook her head. “I never thought you’d be such a pacifist.”

“I’m a person who doesn’t see everything in black or white. These men learned their lesson.”

“How can you not want revenge against Henson?”

“Henson means nothing to me, then or now. Would I want to smash his face in? Hell yeah. There was a time when that’s all I could think of … I even concentrated on getting stronger and trained like a demon with the intent of coming back here and beating the hell out of him.”

“What changed your mind?”

“I grew up, Savannah. The man is more than twice my age and has arthritis. I could beat the shit out of him with one hand, but if I did, just who the hell wins? Henson, for making me lower my standards? Me, for being able to knock some old man down who did the same thing to me ten years ago? What’s the point? To make myself feel better? Hurting a man who is nothing to me would mean absolutely nothing. I don’t see a point in violence for violence’s sake.”

She was silent for so long, Zach figured she was probably not only questioning his judgment as chief of police but also his manhood. He didn’t care a lot what people thought of him, but he did care about Savannah’s opinion. Hopefully she would understand someday, even if she didn’t agree with his methods.

“What did you tell your deputies about the arrest? Surely that’s going to get out.”

“I told them that if I heard any talk, I knew exactly who had spread the rumors and they would be fired.” He shrugged. “It’s over and done with as far as I’m concerned.”

“And you really believe Henson and Dayton will keep their noses clean from now on?”

“If they don’t, they know I’ll be on them like white on rice.” Zach leaned forward and caught her gaze. “I’m not a fool, Savannah. I realize that letting them go isn’t without risks. But I also believe in redemption.”

She held his gaze for a long moment. He knew she heard the double meaning, as he had intended. Did she believe in redemption, too? He sure as hell hoped so.

“So, what are we going to do with all these peas?”

Breath eased from him as he relaxed back against the rocker. Maybe she didn’t understand completely, but she wasn’t going to challenge him. “I have the makings for a fine Southern dinner in the car. If you want, I’ll cook and you can keep me company.”

“You want to make dinner here?”

“Yes, if that’s okay.”

She stood and, holding the bowl of peas in her hand, said, “Then what are we waiting for? I’ll start the water for the peas and you go get the rest of your stuff.”

Zach stood, too. What he wanted to do was drop everything he had in his hands and fill his hands with her. He wouldn’t. He needed to go very slow. Every instinct he had to rush her had to be set aside. This was too important to hurry. He was fighting for his future with the woman he had never stopped loving. Nothing was more important.

Savannah took another sip of her iced tea and watched as Zach finished loading the dishwasher. She had to admit, she could get used to this, sharing cooking responsibilities with a good-looking man and then watching him clean up the kitchen. Silly, but one of her fantasies about Zach used to include this scenario. Most people might laugh at something so mundane, but she’d always been different when it came to the things she wanted. At least until she’d stopped dreaming and fantasizing about anything at all.

She shook off those thoughts. She had learned the hard way that dwelling on them led to even bigger problems. Zach was here now. What the future held, she didn’t know, and refused to even speculate on.

They had kept the conversation light during dinner, talking about the mundane or world events. Nothing personal was discussed, for which she was grateful. Though there was a huge part of her that wanted to tell him about the letters and her grandfather’s suspicions, she forced herself to stay quiet. Maybe after she talked with Harlan Mosby tomorrow, she would know where to focus her investigation next. Having the current police chief’s support would be essential, since she would want to see police and autopsy reports. After her visit with Mosby, she would tell him.

For now, she focused on the fact that a man who had fascinated her from the moment she saw him was standing in her kitchen. And her fascination hadn’t lessened. Last night had proven that. She didn’t know what she felt for Zach anymore, but the desire was definitely still there.

He pulled out a chair and sat at the table across from her. “How’s the packing going?”

The opening was there if she would take it. Telling him about what she’d found in her grandfather’s letters was the perfect opportunity to discuss the investigation she had launched.

“I’m still working on Granddad’s library. I didn’t feel much like packing today, so I spent a lot of time in the guesthouse.”

Slumping down lower in his chair, Zach crossed his muscular arms over his broad chest in a relaxed pose. Savannah was instantly diverted. Memories rushed over her of last night and how he’d carried her upstairs after they’d made love on the stairway. So strong, so very hard. She swallowed.

“Lots of old stuff stored there?”

She jerked back to the present. “What?”

“The guesthouse. Did you find a lot of stuff there you’re going to have to get rid of?”

“Not really. Most of that stuff is stored in the attic. There are some antiques and memorabilia that we might donate.” She took a breath. “I did find boxes of letters that my grandfather wrote to my grandmother.”

His mouth curved into that sweet smile she remembered so well. “Did you read them?”

“Some. There are hundreds, maybe thousands. He wrote her from the time he met her until he died.”

“He must have loved her very much.” He stood and, holding out his hand, gave her that same sweet smile. “Let’s go sit on the screen porch and listen to the crickets.”

Unable to resist him or the lure of a quiet, peaceful night, Savannah took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. Tomorrow, after her talk with Mosby, she would go to his office and tell him. It would be better to do that anyway—much more businesslike and professional. Tonight she just wanted to be with Zach, the man.

Out on the porch, Savannah headed to the chairs but Zach pulled her to the swing at the end of the porch. As children, she and her sisters would often all three get on the swing and glide. She remembered more than once that they’d gone too high and one or all of them had been knocked off onto the porch. When she was seven years old, she had fallen off and would have been fine if Bri hadn’t fallen on top of her and broken Savannah’s arm.

Still holding her hand, Zach began a slow, steady glide. As if they’d been doing this for years, Savannah put her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. The only sounds were the crickets and frogs, the squeak of the old swing, and the distant bark of a dog.

“Tell me about Savannah. Please.”

He had asked her the same question this morning and she had blown him off. Sharing the past ten years with him meant opening up in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to open up to anyone. After he’d left, she had closed herself off. With the exception of her sisters, no one knew the real Savannah anymore. Zach had at one time, but he had given that up. Could she allow him back in?

Before she could answer, he sighed and said, “Here I am, asking you to share, and I haven’t done much myself, have I?”

Relieved at the reprieve, she answered, “Not a lot.”

“Then ask me something … anything.”

The temptation to ask about other relationships was there but she held off. Not only because she dreaded learning about other women in his life but also because he would expect the same from her. How on earth was she going to explain that in ten years, her relationship history was as barren and dry as the Arizona desert?

Family was a relatively safe topic, at least safer than asking about other relationships, so Savannah started there. “You said that after you left here, you didn’t see your mother for a while. How are things between you now?”

“Better, but still strained. Finding out who my real father was didn’t exactly enhance it. I’ve always felt more like her big brother than her son.”

“Is she happy with your stepfather?”

“As happy as I think it’s possible for her to be. Leonard still dotes on her and Mom eats that up. As long as he treats her as if she’s the most important person on the planet, she seems satisfied.”

The one time she had met Francine Adams had been enough for a lifetime. Knowing what he had put up with growing up made Savannah admire Zach even more.

“Did you ever resent having to be the grown-up in the family?”

“Of course I did but I had no other choice. Keeping the family together was priority one for me. I did what I had to do to make that happen. When you have no choices, life can be damn simple—survival and nothing else.”

“Are you still close with Josh?”

“Yeah. Maybe even more since we’ve grown up. He calls me once a week, if he can. Other times, we email each other.”

“And the army? You said you liked it.”

“After I got used to it, yeah, I liked it. I got the discipline and structure I was looking for and needed. I finally felt as if I was doing something worthwhile.”

“Why did you leave?”

He was silent for several seconds and then said, “I was finishing up my second tour in Iraq. Got some shrapnel in one of my legs. When I got out of the hospital, I realized the zest I’d had before was gone. When it came time to sign up again, I just didn’t.”

She swallowed and asked the one question she didn’t want to ask but had to. “And relationships? Girlfriends … wives?”

When he shifted, she lifted her head to face him. “I won’t lie to you, Savannah. I’ve had a couple of relationships, but nothing that lasted long and never anything serious. Nothing like I had with you.”

She knew she should be happy about that, but for some reason she felt only sadness for them both. If things has worked out the way they had planned, they would have been married for several years, probably would have had at least a couple of kids by now. Don’t go there.

When he lowered his head and softly kissed her lips, Savannah savored the sensation but couldn’t respond. As if he understood, he lifted his mouth from hers and whispered, “It’s getting late. I’d better go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Savannah watched him walk away. She wanted to ask him to stay but she felt too vulnerable. Tomorrow she would be stronger, less apt to give way to temptation. She needed to get her head on straight. Last night had been different—they’d satisfied a desire, scratched an itch. But tonight … if tonight had shown her anything, it had revealed that Zach was wanting more than just sex. And Savannah honestly didn’t know if she had it in her anymore.

She looked out into the backyard and the wilderness beyond. Coming home had become so much more complicated than she had planned. Not only was the man who’d crushed her heart wanting to start up again, she might well have uncovered the truth of a terrible crime. What she learned from Mosby tomorrow could change the course of so many lives forever.

MOBILE, ALABAMA

COUNTY GENERAL HOSPITAL

The beeps and clicks of the machines beside him were distant and faint. It was a sound he’d heard on numerous television shows over the years and one he’d heard when his daddy lay dying.

Harlan Mosby breathed out a shaky, shallow breath. They said it wouldn’t be much longer … a few days at the most. He tried to be okay with it. Dying wasn’t too bad. Pain was as distant as the sound of the machines, hovering but never really penetrating his consciousness. What he felt most was a disappointment in what he’d had. Never had much and was leaving with even less. Had a wife once but she left him after a couple of years and a few too many drunken binges. Be nice if he had a kid or two by his side, but since he’d never cottoned to kids, he hadn’t had any. His only relatives were a couple of distant cousins who didn’t give a hoot in hell if he lived a hundred years or died yesterday. Which seemed fair since that was pretty much the way he felt about them, too.

Preacher had come by this morning and wanted to know if he wanted forgiveness for anything. As if he’d tell a damn preacher. What he had inside him he’d take to his grave. That’s what he had promised, and if nothing else, Harlan Mosby was a man of his word. A small niggle of regret did hound him, though. He had pledged to do the best job he could as Midnight’s chief of police and thought he’d done a pretty good job. Kept the riffraff to a minimum, protected law-abiding citizens, and when a citizen misbehaved, he’d seen them punished—some of them by his own hand. Folks might have looked down on him if they knew some of the things he’d done, but there was no regret in that. Sometimes you gotta get covered in a little manure if you’re gonna watch things grow.

A small smile twitched at his mouth at the thought. Zach Tanner had learned that lesson all too well. Damned if he hadn’t enjoyed that night about as much as he’d ever enjoyed anything. Watching that no-account kid get the shit beat out of him and then get covered in cow shit was still funny after all these years.

The fact that Tanner was now the police chief of Midnight stuck in his craw like a dry chicken bone. If he’d had any money, he would’ve paid to have someone take care of Zach Tanner once and for all. Trash like that running his town? Maybe it was good he was dying.

No, he had few regrets except maybe when it came to the Wildes. Hell, they’d been a good family … a little too highfalutin for his taste, but they’d never done him any harm. The whole thing had bothered him. Yeah, he’d been paid well, but that money hadn’t lasted all that long. He hadn’t dared ask for more, though, ’cause he didn’t trust that he wouldn’t be next. The killing of pretty little Maggie Wilde was about as messy as he’d ever seen. Poor woman hadn’t had a prayer. And then having to string up Beckett Wilde hadn’t been fun, either. Poor bastard had woken right at the last minute and had stared them down, all of them.

Even now, pumped up on morphine to the hilt, he felt a shiver of fear sweep through him as he remembered the burning hatred in the man’s eyes. Harlan hoped to hell he didn’t have to meet him in the afterlife. He sure as shit wouldn’t want to have to tangle with him.

He blew out another shallow breath. Nope, not a whole lot of regrets for sixty-eight years of semi-rough living. Now he was headed to eternal peace, which sounded pretty damn good to him. That is if he didn’t believe what that old preacher man had told him about hellfire and eternal damnation. He sure as shit hoped that wasn’t true.

The sound of a door squeaking open hit his consciousness. Probably one of those horse-faced nurses checking on him. Seemed like if a man was on his deathbed, they’d have the courtesy to send someone halfway decent-looking to take care of him. Having one of those old biddies being the last face he saw sure as shit didn’t help a fellow die peacefully.

Harlan blinked as a shadow came into view. The figure was kind of short and a little on the skinny side. Didn’t look like one of the nurses … maybe an orderly or some kind of helper. Doctors had stopped coming a few days ago. Guess they figured there was nothing else to be done.

As the dark figure drew closer, Harlan tensed. Something about the shadow seemed familiar. The light flickered on. Harlan gasped. Hell, this was one face he’d gladly spend an eternity never seeing again. Suddenly he wished for one of those horse-faced women to show her face, thinking she might just look pretty damn good right about now.

“What are you doing here?”

Was that weak, shaky voice really his?

“Just checking to see how you’re doing.”

Coming from someone else, he figured that might be true. For this creature, no way. They’d never been close. The only thing they shared was the big secret. Wary, he answered, “Nice of you but not necessary.”

“Oh, but it is necessary. See, one of the Wilde girls is home and delving into old history. Pretty soon she’s going to be asking questions. I can’t afford for her to come and talk to you.”

“I ain’t going to say anything. I kept it a secret for eighteen years. There’s no reason for me to tell her anything.”

“Now that you’re dying, your conscience not bothering you?”

He told himself to lie. Even as drugged as he was, he knew not to show any doubts or vulnerabilities. Before he could come up with something, it must have shown in his face.

The cold-blooded killer of Maggie and Beckett Wilde smiled. “That’s what I thought.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harlan saw something bright flicker beneath the fluorescent light. Horrified, he watched as a needle was inserted into the IV.

“What … what are you doing?”

“Can’t take the risk of you being alive if she comes to pay you a visit.”

“But … I …,” Harlan sputtered.

“There, there. It’ll all be over soon.”

Harlan’s finger grappled for the call buzzer. If one of those horse-faced nurses walked in the door, it would be the most beautiful sight in the world. He wasn’t ready to die, especially not this way. This was his reward for protecting a secret for eighteen years? Murdered by the killer he had protected? Where was the justice in that?

He watched in bleary-eyed horror as the buzzer was lifted away from his grasp. “Now, now. No sense bothering anybody. These people have better things to do than see to a dying man.”

“You bastard,” Harlan whispered softly. Darkness began to descend but he could swear he heard soft laughter. Was that his murderer or the devil himself? Or were they one and the same?

Closing his eyes for the last time, Harlan floated away, searching for the peace that came with death. On his last breath, he knew peace was not to be his.