The Texan's Return. Karen Whiddon
She rang the bell, which only made a dry buzzing sound. Of course, this was one of the many things Mac needed to repair but hadn’t gotten around to yet.
When he answered, he stepped out on the porch, unwilling to let her inside. She identified herself, and he nodded, deciding not to tell her he remembered her from the time she’d given a talk on career day during his senior year in high school. She hadn’t aged that much since then.
“I guess you heard,” she began, clearly not wanting to waste any time on small talk. “Since the murder sort of coincides with you and your father’s return, I wanted to see if you had any comments you wanted to make. I work for the newspaper, too, and I’ve been receiving calls from some of the larger TV stations in both Dallas and Houston.”
“Are you kidding?” he asked, more out of shock than any real curiosity.
Trudy didn’t even crack a smile. Chewing gum so violently her dangly earrings swayed, she stared at him hard. “Nope.”
Now he was really glad he hadn’t invited her in. “My father is sick. Actually, he’s dying. While he’s not yet completely bedridden, he’s getting to where he can barely walk. It’s a major effort for him to make it to the bathroom. So if you’re out here fishing for some clue that would make you think he did it, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“Oh, it wasn’t him I was curious about,” Trudy said. Something in the caustic tone of her voice should have warned him. “It was you. Like father, like son and all that. Continuing the tradition, are ya?”
If she’d been a man, he would have decked her. Instead, hands clenched into fists, he settled for turning around, stepping inside and closing the door in her smug, supercilious face.
“Who was that, son?” His father’s querulous voice trembled with the effort required to speak.
“Somebody selling magazines,” he lied one more time, since there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d have his dad worrying about this while struggling with the process of dying.
* * *
As usual, Hailey had the early evening news on while cooking dinner. The twins were up in their room, supposedly doing homework but probably using their shared cell phone to text friends. Eli had finished his schoolwork and had gone outside to ride his bike. And her mother had not yet roused herself enough to venture out of her bedroom.
Which meant when the news story came on, Hailey heard it alone.
Shock had her frozen as she listened, unable to move. The reporter’s words echoed inside her head, as if everything had slowed down to a crawl. Another. Murdered. Girl. Anniversary of Brenda’s death.
It had happened that morning. Suddenly, Hailey was fiercely glad she hadn’t watched TV or listened to the radio all day.
They showed the dead girl’s picture, culled from Facebook. Slender, her pert nose covered in freckles. Blond hair, blue eyes. She could have been Brenda’s twin.
Pain slammed into her, followed by disbelief. Not again, not again. How was it possible that such an atrocity had been allowed to reoccur after an entire decade had passed?
Finally she sucked in a gasp of air, then another. And then she remembered. Gus Morrison. Mac had brought him back to town. The killer had been freed, and he’d killed again.
Her surroundings spun as she battled to maintain her bearings. Though Mac had claimed his father was sick, the timing was just too awful to be a coincidence. Gus goes to prison and no more killings. Gus is released and bam. Another young girl loses her life. Another family is torn apart.
Feeling physically ill, she reached for the phone. She needed to alert the police, to let them know a monster had returned to their midst. Though they probably already knew, she’d feel better checking, just in case.
As her fingers connected with the receiver, the phone rang. Though she didn’t recognize the number, she answered anyway. “Hello?”
“Hailey? Have you seen the news?”
She would have recognized the voice anywhere. Ice and heat simultaneously coursed through her veins. “Mac.” Her throat closed, making it impossible to say anything else.
“I take it you’ve heard another girl has been murdered.”
This time, she managed to croak a response. “Yes.”
“It’s horrible. I considered calling you this morning, but I figured you needed time to process it. I wanted to let you know, I’m going to talk to the police. I’m hoping they’ll consider reopening the investigation into your sister’s murder.”
Whatever she might have expected him to say, it hadn’t been this. “I don’t understand. Why would they do that? The case was solved. They got a conviction.”
“Don’t you see? If anything, this proves my father didn’t kill Brenda.”
Stunned, she wasn’t sure how to respond. She’d always known Mac believed his father to be innocent. But this...
She replied the only way she could, letting her own emotions show. “Does it? Does it really? Because from where I sit, it’s the opposite. No one was killed while your dad was in prison. He gets out, and immediately there’s another murder. It doesn’t take a police detective to figure that out.”
Silence. Then, he sighed. “He’s not capable of hurting anyone, Hailey. He’s really ill. I promised him I’d try to clear his name. Now that someone else has been killed, the police might be more inclined to look at Brenda’s murder again.”
She felt like she was living a nightmare. “If you get them to reopen the case, then that will stir everything up again. My brothers and sister don’t remember any of this, and June...” She swallowed hard. “June drinks.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“No.” Deep breath. And again. “You aren’t. You couldn’t be, since all of this is your fault. I don’t understand why you brought him back here. How can you be so blind?”
“You need to come over and see him. Come see for yourself.”
Clearly, he hadn’t carefully considered his words or how they’d affect her. Or maybe he’d lost his mind. “No, I don’t. I don’t feel the need to ever lay eyes on that man again.”
“He’s dying, Hailey,” Mac repeated, his voice breaking.
She steeled her heart, quashing the rush of pity she felt at his words. “So you say. But as long as he’s still alive, I can’t feel safe. Nor should any other female in this town.” The harshness of her words made her inwardly wince, but she didn’t call them back or apologize. She only spoke the truth, whether or not Mac wanted to hear it.
“That’s why you need to come. See for yourself. You’ll know he’s not well enough to have done this.” He inhaled sharply, making her remember the old way he’d given her warning that she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say. “I’d never have pegged you for a coward, Hailey. Clearly I was wrong.”
He ended the call before she could respond.
Staring at the phone, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and throw the damn thing against the wall. Coward.
She fumed all through dinner, his words echoing over and over in his head. He knew, of course, that she’d taken real pride in her courage, her ability to face the greatest challenges head-on. This belief in her own ability had been necessary to help her get through the dark days after Brenda’s death. She’d had no choice but to pull herself together and step into the shoes her mother had vacated. She’d been the glue that held their small family together, with no real adult guidance.
She’d done the best she could. She still did. Every single day. A coward, she was not.
But for Mac—someone she hadn’t seen or talked to since she’d been seventeen—to blatantly try