Truth Be Told. Barbara McMahon

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ shrugged. “So far so good.” She was a careful driver, but liked the mobility the bike gave compared to cars in the L.A. freeway traffic. When she’d first bought the bike, it was used, and the only thing she could afford. But she didn’t need to share that—not with Jack looking like he wanted to dissect her every word.

      “Tell me about Paris,” she said, hoping to turn the attention away from herself. She felt uncomfortable with everyone watching. April took the bait and Jo began to relax as she listened to her friend talk about her career, her apartment on the Left Bank, and the fun of visiting European capitals on someone else’s tab.

      Dinner ended with strawberry shortcake eaten on the porch. The evening stayed light late at the end of June, and the citronella candles kept the mosquitoes at bay. Jo felt suddenly very grown-up, sitting on the porch as Maddie and some of her ladies’ club friends had done. Talking with other grown-ups. What would life have been like if that night had never happened? Once again she regretted not handling things differently. But it always got back to Maddie’s not believing her, then her anger, and her fear.

      Time ticked by. Jo finished her coffee and put the cup down with a click. Conversation stopped and everyone looked at her.

      “Guess I’ll be heading for the hospital.” She felt like she was heading for an execution. But she couldn’t put it off any longer.

      “She’s on the second floor,” Eliza said. “She’s going to be so happy to see you.”

      Jo doubted that. But this was something she needed to do. To make amends if she could, to apologize at the very least.

      She headed out, enjoying the evening air. It felt strange to be walking. Even stranger to see so few cars on the road. Where she lived in L.A., she couldn’t even get to the store without driving through heavy traffic.

      Jo turned onto Main Street. It looked the same, except for a few changes in storefronts. Ruby’s Café was bustling with teenagers and a handful of older folks. She’d have to stop in and have a burger before she left Maraville.

      The video store was open, customers wandering through the rows of movies. Most of the other stores had closed at six. She wondered if there were any all-night places in town, then had to remind herself this was Maraville, not L.A.

      Moments later Jo approached the hospital. The parking lot was less than half full, the emergency entrance quiet. The brick building was small compared to the hospitals she frequently visited in the line of duty. This one had been built to serve the county and was rarely used to capacity.

      She reached the wide double doors and stopped. Beyond the threshold she could see the brightly lit lobby, with a woman at an information desk. A couple sat near the elevators as if waiting for someone. A man passed her and held the door.

      She took a breath and shook her head. She wasn’t ready.

      She had come from California for this express purpose, and yet she couldn’t make herself walk inside.

      Jo wasn’t sure how long she stood outside the doors before turning and retracing her steps. She would have to come back tomorrow. Tonight was impossible.

      When she reached the town square, she found an empty bench and sat. In the playground area of the nearby park, children laughed and shrieked as they slid down the slide or were pushed higher and higher on the swings by indulgent parents. A woman walked her dog on the far side. The scene was…peaceful. Unlike her neighborhood in L.A.

      Jo had a thousand memories of Maraville. Many good. She should focus on those. It had been a quiet, sleepy, Southern town. Nothing inherently bad. All places had bad people living in them. She couldn’t condemn an entire town because of one man.

      “Taking a walk down memory lane?” a familiar voice asked.

      She looked up and to her left. Sam Witt stood there. She hadn’t noticed his arrival.

      “Sort of.”

      He sat on the bench beside her. “Nice time of day,” he said, taking off his hat and putting it on the bench between them.

      “Mmm.” She wasn’t up to small talk with the sheriff. Her own badge was burning a hole in her back pocket. She should give him the courtesy of identifying herself. But right now to do anything seemed too much effort.

      “Been to see Maddie?” he guessed.

      “Went there, didn’t go in,” she confessed.

      “Tough visiting someone sick,” he said.

      “I screwed up. I need to apologize.” She could never make up for the damage her accusation caused. Was it that thought that kept her from going in tonight? Or fear of the repudiation she expected from Maddie?

      She hated knowing she was just plain scared.

      “I looked into your file, you know,” he said. “Sloppy piece of police work. There was never a resolution to the crime. No charges were filed, no suspicions even noted.”

      “I’m sure there weren’t. Sheriff Halstead didn’t believe me.”

      “He didn’t even report the person you accused,” Sam said.

      Jo knew he was fishing. Maybe it was too late to do anything about the crime against her, but she hated that the man had gotten away with it. What could she do to let people know the truth? Had he tried to rape other young girls since she’d left? The thought made her shudder. Yet when she’d told the law, nothing had been done.

      She needed to talk to Maddie first, then she’d open up to Sam Witt. A sheriff ought to know what was going on in his jurisdiction.

      SAM LEANED BACK ON the bench, wondering why he was trying to make conversation with a woman who obviously didn’t want to talk. His effort wasn’t all about trying to learn what really happened twelve years ago. He sensed an aloneness in her that was at odds with her attitude. He chastised himself. So now he was playing Dudley Do-Right? Trying to make everything okay for this stranger? Patty would say it was like him.

      The thought of his wife brought the familiar ache into focus. Three years and he still missed her.

      “Seem odd to be back?” he asked, refocusing on the situation at hand.

      She nodded, not looking at him, her gaze on the children in the park.

      “Staying long?” Getting her to talk was worse than interrogating hardened criminals.

      She turned and looked at him. “I’m here for as long as I want to be. You have a problem with that?”

      He recognized the cocky attitude as a cover-up. Touchy. “Not as long as you don’t cause any problems.”

      She reached in her back pocket and pulled out a leather wallet, flipping it open with practiced ease.

      The gleam of the gold badge caught his eye. He took the wallet and read the identification card. Jo was a detective with the LAPD. That did surprise him. He tossed it back to her and studied her for a moment.

      Just to yank her chain, he said, “Still, don’t be causing trouble in my town.”

      CHAPTER TWO

СКАЧАТЬ