BEVERLY BARTON
I’ll Be Watching You

Copyright

AVON

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins 2014

Copyright © Beverly Barton 2006

Cover photography: Arcangel

Cover design: www.blacksheep-uk.com

Beverly Barton asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9781847561411

Ebook Edition © October 2014 ISBN: 9780007424894

Version: 2015-07-23

Dedication

To my daughter, Badiema Beaver Waldrep, and my son, Brant Beaver, who have filled my life with joy and given me countless reasons to be a very proud mother

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Epilogue

About the Author

By the Same Author

About the Publisher

1

He had been waiting fifteen years for this day and nothing – absolutely nothing – was going to ruin it for him. Not the guard’s smart-ass farewell comment. Not the drizzling rain. And not the fear that clutched his stomach like a giant fist. If he made a mistake and broke their rules, they’d send him back here to Donaldson. He had to play it smart, be careful and make sure he didn’t get caught doing anything illegal. But come hell or high water, when he got home he was going to prove a few things to some people, starting with Webb Porter, the man he held responsible for ruining his life.

As a prisoner, he had proven to them that he could be a model inmate, a reformed character who was remorseful for his past sins. If he hadn’t messed up so badly those first couple of years, he’d have been out of this place long before now. But at eighteen he’d been a stupid punk, filled with hatred and rage. The hatred and rage were still inside him, but he had learned to keep them under control. Channeled properly, strong emotions could work to his benefit.

When he’d finally wised up, he would have done anything for a chance to be paroled. The only thing that had kept him sane and made him fight to survive under intolerable conditions was the dream of freedom.

Once he returned home, he would take things one day at a time. Wouldn’t make any waves. Wouldn’t ruffle any feathers. At least not right away. He had been waiting fifteen years; he could wait a little longer. But no matter what he had to do or who he had to hurt in the process, he intended to reclaim the life that had been taken from him. He had come to this prison as an eighteen-year-old convicted murderer who, only months before his arrest, had been a star athlete with the world by the tail and a bright future. He had paid his debt to society, had served his time for being convicted of slitting his bastard of a stepfather’s throat. Now he was free. Free to go home. Free to unearth the truth. Free to make sure the guilty paid as dearly for their crimes as they had made him pay.

But first things first. Reed Conway grinned as he marched out of Donaldson Correctional Facility, head held high, shoulders squared, backbone ramrod straight. When he got back to Spring Creek, he wanted to eat his fill of his mama’s fried chicken and peach cobbler. He wanted to guzzle down a six-pack of ice-cold beer with his cousin Briley Joe and have some fun, the way they had when they’d been teenagers. And he wanted to get laid. Just about any willing woman would do just fine.

‘I wish it weren’t raining.’ Judy Conway wiped the foggy window, her circular motions creating a small clearing in the car’s hazy windshield. ‘I wanted today to be perfect for Reed’s homecoming. The sun should be shining.’

‘Don’t worry about the weather, Mama,’ Regina said as she reached out and clasped her mother’s hand. ‘Reed won’t care. And a little rain couldn’t possibly spoil this day. We’ve been waiting an awfully long time for him to come home to us.’

Judy squeezed Regina’s hand. ‘It’s going to be so hard for him. He was just a boy when he went in that awful place. He grew from a boy to a man inside the walls of that prison. I can’t help wondering if it’ll be possible for him to adjust to living in the outside world.’

‘Don’t be so pessimistic.’

‘I’m trying to be realistic.’ Judy caught a glimpse of two men walking in the rain straight toward the car. Her heartbeat accelerated. The shorter man, with his black umbrella held high, barely kept step with the taller one, who was all but running. ‘It’s them. Look, honey. Mark has Reed with him.’

Mark Leamon’s father, Milton Leamon, had been Reed’s attorney and, when the elder Mr Leamon had passed away five years ago, his son, fresh out of law school, had taken over his father’s practice in Spring Creek. Regina had gone to work for him three years ago, when he’d decided to add a legal assistant to the small firm.

Judy grabbed the handle and swung open the car door. Sitting in the backseat, Regina mimicked her mother’s moves. They jumped out of the Lincoln and stood side by side. Regina held a floral umbrella over her mother’s head, but the closer her son came toward her, the harder it was for Judy to stay put. She left the umbrella’s protection and raced toward Reed, disregarding the drenching rain. He increased his pace and they met at the edge of the roadway, mother and son, soaked to the skin. A broad smile spread across Judy’s face. Tears trickled from her eyes and mixed with the raindrops on her cheeks.

‘Reed!’ She grabbed him, wrapping her arms securely around her firstborn, the son of her first husband, who had died in a bloody war halfway around the world only weeks before Reed was born, nearly thirty-three years ago.

His strong arms encompassed her in a celebratory bear hug and they clung to each other. Finally Reed grabbed his mother’s shoulders and stared into her face. She gazed back at him, at the handsome features so like Jimmy Conway’s. Reed had always been his father’s son – in looks, talent, and temperament. But his smile was hers. Same straight, white teeth. Same wide, full mouth. Thank you God, she prayed silently. Thank you for letting me see my son smile again.

‘I’m coming home with you, Mama.’ Reed spoke with emotion in his voice, but she knew he wouldn’t cry. Neither tears of happiness nor tears of sorrow. She hadn’t seen her son cry since he’d been a small boy. So strong and brave and in control.

Since early childhood, he’d been her little man. And when she’d made the horrific mistake of marrying Junior Blalock, Reed had become her protector. Her former husband’s brutal ways had forced Reed to grow up too fast, to take on adult burdens when he’d been just a boy. She blamed herself for what had happened. She always would.

‘Reed?’ Regina laid her open palm on her brother’s shoulder.

Grabbing his mother’s hand, Reed turned to face Regina. ‘Hey, kid. How’s it going?’

‘Y’all can talk on the way home,’ Mark Leamon said, as he tried to hold his large black umbrella over mother and son. ‘In case y’all haven’t noticed, it’s raining.’

Reed laughed. The sound wrapped around Judy’s heart and filled her with a mother’s joy.

‘Mark’s right,’ Regina said. ‘Even with the umbrellas, we’re getting drenched out here.’

‘You sit up front with Mark,’ Judy said. ‘I want Reed all to myself on the way home.’

Within seconds, they were inside Mark’s black Lincoln Town Car, leaving the Donaldson Correctional Facility in Bessemer, Alabama, and heading toward home. Home to Spring Creek in the northern part of the state. Regina turned sideways in her seat so that she could carry on a conversation with the backseat occupants.

‘You wouldn’t believe what-all Mama’s done this week getting ready for your homecoming.’ Regina settled her gaze on her brother. ‘Ever since Mark told us that you’d been granted parole, we’ve been getting a room ready for you and Mama’s bought you some new clothes and—’

‘Leave a little something for a surprise,’ Judy said teasingly.

‘Mama, I told you not to go to any trouble.’ Reed held Judy’s hand in his firm grip. ‘I kind of want to get a place of my own eventually, and Briley Joe has already offered to let me move into the room over the garage. I know you only have two bedrooms at your place.’

‘We’ve fixed up the room off the back porch for you,’ Judy said. ‘It was just storage, and I kept my sewing machine in there. Even if you decide to move later on, I want you to have your own room while you’re with me.’

‘I offered to take the storage room,’ Regina said. ‘But Mama wouldn’t hear of it. She said the last thing you’d want would be to put me out of my bedroom.’

‘Mama’s right,’ Reed told her. ‘I don’t want my coming home to cause any problems for you or Mama.’

But my homecoming is going to stir up a hornet’s nest and that’s for sure. Judy heard Reed’s unspoken comment inside her head, as surely as if he had spoken aloud. No matter what her son had professed to the parole board, she knew in her heart that Reed had neither forgotten the past nor forgiven the people he held responsible for having him convicted him of Junior’s murder. It was only a matter of time before Reed locked horns with Webb Porter, and when he did, all hell would break loose. She couldn’t bear to think about what might happen to Reed – and to Webb.

Webb Porter rose from the bed, picked up his clothes off the chair and headed toward the bathroom.

‘Sugar, are you leaving already?’ Sierra asked him.

He paused, glanced over his shoulder, and smiled at the redhead lying naked on black satin sheets in the middle of the black wrought-iron bed.

‘Sorry, but we’re having a little family dinner party tonight and it’s a good hour and a half drive back to Spring Creek.’

Whimpering, Sierra pouted playfully. Webb chuckled, then went into the bathroom, hung his clothes on a hook attached to the back of the door and turned on the sink faucets, letting the warm water flow. As he lathered his genital area, he recalled the enjoyment he’d just shared with his Huntsville mistress. At fifty-eight, he wasn’t quite the stud he’d once been, but he still wanted sex on a regular basis. Over the years, he’d had several mistresses, some lasting for years. Currently he had two. One was here in Huntsville, less than two hours from home, but still far enough away that his comings and goings went unnoticed. He’d met Sierra Camp at a campaign rally the first time he’d run for senator. She was a childless divorcée in her early forties who wasn’t looking for a husband. Sierra was an independent woman who required nothing in the way of financial support from him. They got together occasionally, whenever he came home to Alabama.

His DC mistress was another matter altogether. He provided Cheri with a car and an apartment. He visited her regularly, twice a week when he was in Washington, and she gave him whatever his heart desired. She was young – younger than his own daughter – and wild and fun. And sometimes she wore him out, made him feel old. If she didn’t give the best damn blow jobs he’d ever had, he would have already traded her in for an older model. Someone smarter and classier. Someone more like Sierra.

Webb dressed hurriedly but took time to make sure his tie was straight and his hair was neatly combed. He prided himself on his thick mane of salt-and-pepper hair.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Sierra, who had donned a short black silk robe, met him with open arms.

‘Give me a goodbye kiss,’ she said.

Webb wrapped his arms around her waist, then dropped his hands to cup her buttocks. She laughed. He covered her lips with his and, when she sighed, he thrust his tongue inside her mouth. Then he ended the heated kiss quickly, swatted her behind and nodded toward the door.

‘Walk me out,’ he suggested.

She laced her arm through his and went with him down the hall, through her kitchen and to the back door. He always parked in her garage, came in through the back door and exited the same way.

‘Any chance you’ll make it back up this way next week?’ Sierra asked as she ran her hand down the front of his shirt, pausing at his belt buckle.

‘I don’t know if I’ll still be in Alabama,’ he told her. ‘I’ll give you a call in a few days when I know my plans.’

‘You do that. And if I’m free, we’ll make some plans of our own.’

Webb nodded, then went into the garage, got in his Mercedes and waited for her to hit the door opener. He took his sunglasses from where he’d stuck them behind the sun visor and slipped them on. He gave himself a quick inspection glance in the inside rearview mirror and smiled at his reflection.

‘You should feel guilty, you horny old bastard,’ he said aloud. ‘What if Ella ever found out about your affairs? What would your daughter think of you then?’

Ella had been the joy of his life since the moment he and Carolyn had adopted her. She’d been two weeks old. He’d taken one look at her and immediately fallen in love. He had never loved anyone the way he loved his little girl. Ella idolized him and, by God, he wanted it to stay that way. He kept his affairs out of town, not only to protect his wife from ugly rumors, but to hide the truth about his less-than-perfect marriage from his daughter.

When the garage door lifted, Webb waved goodbye to Sierra, put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. Checking his watch, he groaned. He’d be cutting it close to get home in time to shower, shave and change clothes before Carolyn’s little family dinner party tonight. He’d have to think of some excuse for why he’d been delayed in Huntsville. It didn’t matter how feeble the excuse; Carolyn never questioned his explanations. He figured she suspected the truth but preferred to look the other way and pretend they actually had a good marriage. That was what Ella believed. That her parents adored each other. Perpetuating that lie was as much his fault as Carolyn’s. He should have ended their marriage years ago. But it was too late now. Divorce would ruin his political career, and it would break Ella’s heart. He didn’t dare risk doing either. Other than Ella, his career was all he had.

As usual, Carolyn Porter’s dinner party was a huge success. From Bessie’s delicious meal to Carolyn’s sparkling personality, every event in the Porter home seemed to come off without a hitch. Even Webb’s late arrival hadn’t seemed to disturb his wife in the least. It never ceased to amaze Ella how kind and considerate of each other her parents were. She envied them their abiding love. She hoped that one day she would share that kind of commitment with a man. Being a woman, she recognized the look of love in her mother’s eyes whenever her father came into a room. And she couldn’t imagine a man more attentive to his wife than her father.

When Dan reached between them on the Duncan Phyfe sofa and slipped her hand into his, Ella tensed, but as he gazed at her adoringly, she managed to smile at him. She’d been dating Dan Gilmore on and off for nearly a year now. Friends and acquaintances were making bets on just when the two would tie the knot. She liked Dan and enjoyed his company, but she simply couldn’t imagine spending the rest of her life with him. Actually, she couldn’t imagine the two of them ever making love. Dan wanted her, and he’d made it perfectly clear that he was more than ready for a sexual relationship. She’d been putting him off for months now, but how much longer could she expect him to wait?

‘I didn’t want to ruin a perfectly lovely meal, so I didn’t bring up the subject while we were eating,’ Jeff Henry Carlisle said, ‘but it’s a subject that needs discussing.’

Ella glanced at her uncle, a small, dapper man with huge blue eyes and a round, cherubic face. His thinning brown hair and neatly groomed mustache were edged with gray. Although Aunt Cybil’s husband could on occasion be a pompous jackass, she loved him dearly and overlooked his many faults. He’d been like a second father to her all her life. Growing up, she’d spent as much time next door at Uncle Jeff Henry and Aunt Cybil’s as she had at home. She thought it tragic that they didn’t have any children, considering the way they both doted on her.

‘Whatever are you talking about, brother?’ Carolyn asked.

Jeff Henry cringed, but Carolyn didn’t seem to notice. Ella wondered how it was possible that her mother seemed totally unaware that her brother-in-law despised her using the affectionate term brother when she spoke to him. Even a blind person could sense how utterly besotted Jeff Henry was with his sister-in-law. When she’d been sixteen, Ella had realized that her uncle was in love with her mother, and she had thought his affection for her mother a tragic thing for him – and for Aunt Cybil.

‘I’m referring to the fact that Reed Conway was released from prison today,’ Jeff Henry said.

All the color drained from Carolyn’s face. Ella started to rise and go to her mother, but before she did, her father, who sat in the brocade armchair beside Carolyn’s wheelchair, reached over and clasped his wife’s hand.

‘Are you all right, my dear?’ Webb asked.

‘Yes, I’m quite all right.’ Carolyn brought Webb’s hand to her mouth, kissed him tenderly and held his hand to her side. ‘I already knew about Reed’s parole, but I’d almost forgotten that he was being released today. I’m sure Judy is very happy to have her son home with her after all these years.’

‘Of course she’s ecstatic about his release,’ Jeff Henry said. ‘But I am not the least bit pleased that a convicted murderer is going to be living in our peaceful little town. I think they should have thrown away the key when they locked that good-for-nothing boy up. That’s what’s wrong with this country. Murderers being set free. Crime rates rising. If I were running things I’d—’

‘Stuff it, will you?’ Cybil Carlisle’s voice held a sharp edge as she chastised her husband. ‘We all know your views on what you’d do if you were God. You’d put us all back into the mid-nineteenth century. You’d restore slavery, wife beating and—’

‘Cybil, must you be so unkind?’ Carolyn’s silvery-gray eyes glared at her sister.

‘I’ve never laid a hand on you,’ Jeff Henry said, his face suffusing with color. ‘And Lord knows I’ve had reason to.’

‘This is neither the time nor the place for the two of you to air your differences.’ Webb’s voice rose slightly, his tone cautioning his in-laws.

‘Of course, you’re quite right,’ Jeff Henry agreed. ‘Please forgive us.’ His gaze settled on Carolyn.

‘I, for one, am eager to see the bad boy return.’ Grinning, Cybil ran her hand through her short, dark hair. ‘If I recall correctly, Reed Conway was a damn good-looking hunk. And sexy as hell. And no doubt after fifteen years in the pen, he’s horny as hell and aching to get laid.’

‘Cybil!’ Carolyn’s normally soft voice screeched with disapproval. ‘Must you be so vulgar? Especially in front of Ella.’

‘Good God, Ella is thirty years old,’ Cybil said. ‘If she doesn’t know about the birds and the bees by now, it’s high time she was learning.’

‘You had too much wine with dinner.’ Jeff Henry rose from the sofa, offered his hand to his wife and gave her a stern look. ‘We should go home. I think we’ve worn out our welcome tonight.’

Cybil laughed – a loose, silly laugh that indicated she had indeed become inebriated. She looked up at her husband, then lifted her hand to his. He gently assisted her to her feet and, after more apologies, he guided Cybil out of the living room and into the foyer.

‘Perhaps you should help Jeff Henry,’ Carolyn said to her husband.

Webb nodded. ‘Sorry that the evening ended on such a sour note, Dan. I’m sure you realize that Cybil isn’t always so unpleasant. She’s a wonderful woman, but she simply can’t handle alcohol.’

Talk about trying to put a pretty face on something, Ella thought. Her father was indeed the consummate politician, capable of putting a positive spin on any occurrence. Why he even bothered trying to defend Aunt Cybil she didn’t know. After all, it wasn’t as if Dan hadn’t been born and raised in Spring Creek. He’d heard all the whispered little rumors about Cybil Walker Carlisle’s penchant for men and liquor. As much as she loved her aunt, Ella hadn’t turned a blind eye to the woman’s weaknesses. More than once, her mother had been horribly shamed by Cybil’s misadventures. If the two sisters didn’t resemble each other almost enough to be twins, no one would ever believe that the highly moral, genteel Carolyn was related to the wild, immoral Cybil.

‘Every family has their little differences of opinions,’ Dan said diplomatically.

‘Thanks for being so understanding,’ Webb said. ‘I’d better go see if Jeff Henry needs a hand.’ Webb excused himself to follow his in-laws.

Dan turned his attention to Carolyn as he stood. ‘Mrs Porter, dinner was lovely as always. Thank you for inviting me.’

‘You must come back more often,’ Carolyn said. ‘We’re quite fond of you, you know.’

‘And I’m quite fond of y’all,’ Dan replied.

Oh, Mother, please don’t speak for me. Don’t give Dan the impression that I care more for him than I do. I know you’d love to have him as a son-in-law, but you shouldn’t wish for me anything less than what you and Daddy have.

‘Walk me out, darling?’ Dan offered his hand to Ella.

‘Certainly.’ She ignored his hand as she rose to her feet without any assistance.

As they headed into the foyer, Ella heard her mother ringing for her nurse, Viola. When they reached the front door, which Webb had left wide open on his hasty departure, Dan pulled Ella into his arms. She went willingly, not knowing how to disengage herself without hurting his feelings. He was a sweet man and she was quite fond of him, but she didn’t love him.

When his lips sought hers, she gave herself over to the moment. Sweet and tender. If only she could love Dan, it would make her mother so happy. She responded to him, enjoying the warmth of his embrace and the genuine affection of his kiss. He lifted his head and gazed into her eyes.

‘Dinner and a movie Friday night?’ he asked.

‘Uh … yes. Sure. I’d love to see the new Meg Ryan movie.’

‘Sweet dreams,’ Dan said. ‘Dream of me.’

Ella smiled. When Dan was halfway down the sidewalk, he turned and waved. She kept on smiling. Then she closed the door and sighed. She was thirty years old and no raving beauty. There wasn’t a horde of eligible men beating a path to her door. So why wasn’t she thrilled to have a great guy like Dan courting her, a guy so obviously interested in a permanent relationship?

Because he didn’t create butterflies in her stomach. Because she wanted a kiss to be more than pleasant. Because the thought of making love with Dan didn’t excite her.

Unbidden, her Aunt Cybil’s comments echoed inside her head: Reed Conway was a damn good-looking hunk. And sexy as hell. And no doubt after fifteen years in the pen, he’s horny as hell and aching to get laid. A flush warmed Ella’s cheeks. She remembered Reed Conway. They had traveled in different circles as teenagers and she’d been almost sixteen when he’d gone to prison, but anyone who’d ever known Reed would never forget him.

And Ella in particular had a good reason to remember the son of her aunt and uncle’s housekeeper. When they had been growing up, she and Reed hadn’t exchanged more than a dozen words. She had run into him occasionally when he’d been with his mother at the Carlisles’ house, but for the most part, he had ignored her. And, after politely saying hello to him on those occasions, she had tried to ignore him. But she often found herself watching the town’s bad boy, who, by the age of seventeen, had gained himself quite a reputation as a star athlete and a hell-raiser. Considering that they had barely known each other, she’d been utterly surprised when she had received a letter from Reed only a few months after he’d been sent to prison.

I’m going to think about you while I’m in here. Dream about you. See those big brown eyes of yours following me, looking at me with such hunger. You didn’t think I saw you staring at me, but I did. And I knew what you were thinking … what you wanted. And baby, I’m just the guy who can give you what you want. When I get out of here, I’m going to look you up. Until then I’m going to think of you while I jerk off.

Although her parents had taken that first letter and the one that followed away from her and destroyed them, she’d never forgotten what he had written to her. Even after her father explained to her that Reed had written those letters because he hated Webb and would use any method to harass him, Ella had been unable to erase those crude yet erotic words from her mind.

Reed Conway had been released on parole today. Would he look her up as he’d said he would in the letters he’d written all those years ago? Get a grip, Ella, she cautioned herself. Reed wrote those letters to torment your father, not because he had any personal interest in you. You don’t have anything to worry about. He’s not going to bother you. He probably doesn’t even remember you.

2

His mama’s house wasn’t much to look at, but it was home. And anywhere outside, even a two-bedroom, one-bath shack, had a prison cell beat six ways from Sunday. He hated knowing that his mother and sister had spent the past fifteen years here. When he’d been eighteen, one of the reasons that he had wanted to make it big, to be a success, was so that he could take care of his mother and Regina and give them a better life. But he had failed them both and left them to fend for themselves. If he had things to do over again, would he – could he – do anything different?

When they’d first arrived at the house this afternoon, he’d noticed the repairs that had been made on the place. New paint on the inside and out gave the structure a decent appearance. Inside, homemade covers for the threadbare sofa and chairs, and handmade quilts used as bed coverlets added a touch of hominess to an otherwise drab house. And his mother kept her home as spotlessly clean as she did the Carlisle mansion. Damn! After all these years, she was still slaving away as the housekeeper to people who weren’t fit to kiss her feet. He intended to find a way to change things, to move his family out of the white-trash area of Spring Creek. Once he settled some old scores and set the record straight, he’d find a job outside Spring Creek and take his mother and sister with him.

Strange how he felt confined sitting here in his mama’s living room. A restlessness stirred inside him, a need to run free like an untamed animal. Every once in a while Briley Joe would nod toward the door, a hint that he wanted them to be on their way. But Reed couldn’t bring himself to cut short his homecoming party. Mama had fixed all his favorite foods. Regina had hung a ‘welcome home’ banner, edged with yellow ribbons, over the double doorway leading from the living room into the kitchen. And his sister had used balloons here and there to add a festive touch. Summer flowers from the beds that lined the walkway graced the center of the old wooden kitchen table.

‘That was a fine meal, Mrs Conway.’ Mark Leamon smiled warmly at Judy as he stood. ‘I appreciate your inviting me to join your family celebration.’

‘After all you’ve done to help Reed, it was the least I could do,’ Judy replied. She glanced at her daughter and added, ‘You know you’re always welcome here. Isn’t that right, Regina?’

Regina smiled shyly as color flushed her pale cheeks. ‘Of course. But Mark already knows that. This isn’t the first time he’s had dinner with us.’

Reed couldn’t help noticing the way his little sister looked at Mark Leamon. The way a woman looks at a man she cares about, a man she loves. Even though Regina was nearly twenty-six, he’d continued thinking of her as that same scared little girl who’d run into his arms screaming when she escaped from Junior Blalock’s clutches. Although she had visited him when he’d been in prison, he’d never really looked beyond those big blue eyes and sweet smile to see the attractive young woman she had become. Maybe big brothers didn’t like to think of their little sisters as adults, as sexual women who would want to be with a man.

Regina was a knockout. The kind of girl men would always look at a second time. A mane of golden-blond hair hugged her shoulders. She was tall and curvy. China doll beautiful. How was it that Mark hadn’t picked up on the signals Regina was putting out? Unless he was the densest guy in the universe, it was only a matter of time until he figured out that she was his for the taking.

Reed knew he’d have to do something about the situation before that happened. It was clear as glass. His little sister had the hots for her boss. Poor girl, didn’t she realize that she’d set her sights a little high? Mark was a member of the upper echelons of local society. He was, after all, related to Senator Porter. A first cousin once removed. He might offer Regina a hot affair, but when the time came for Mark to choose a wife, he’d pick one of his own kind.

It wasn’t that he disliked Mark. The exact opposite was true. The guy had done everything in his power to help Reed, even agreeing to work with him to unearth more facts about Junior Blalock’s murder and to do what he could to get the case reopened. Mark was one of only a handful of people who actually believed that Reed hadn’t killed his stepfather. Sometimes he wondered if his mother really believed he was innocent.

Reed lifted the iced-tea glass to his lips and took a hefty swig, then stood and shook hands with Mark. ‘Once I get settled in, I’ll be in touch and we can start the ball rolling.’

Judy gave Reed a curious stare but didn’t question his comment – not then. When Regina walked Mark to the front door, Reed leaned down and whispered to his mother, ‘You need to put a stop to that before Mark realizes how easily he could have her.’

Judy shushed Reed, then countered with a question as she stood. ‘Just what are you and Mark up to?’

Reed draped his arm around Judy’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry your pretty head about me. I promise that I’m going to keep out of trouble.’

Judy glared at him as if she doubted his word. But then again, what reason did she have to trust him? He had always promised to stay out of trouble, but somehow he’d managed to break that vow time and again.

Reed studied his mother. How was it possible that a fifty-year-old woman who’d lived such a hard life could still be so attractive? White streaked her naturally light-blond hair, which she wore chin-length and curled about her heart-shaped face. She was slender and leggy and probably didn’t outweigh Regina by more than ten pounds.

‘Hey, Reed, how about we head out?’ Briley Joe scooted back the kitchen chair and stood to his full six feet.

Reed glanced at his cousin and grinned. ‘Yeah, sure. In a few minutes.’

‘Time’s a-wasting, buddy boy. Home and hearth will still be here in the morning.’

‘Are you going out tonight?’ Judy asked, a note of concern in her voice and a look of disapproval on her face.

‘I just want to show the boy a good time, Aunt Judy.’ Briley flashed her his irresistible-to-all-females smile. ‘A few drinks, a few laughs.’

Briley Joe clamped his big hand down on Reed’s shoulder. His nails retained a trace of grease stain under the tips. Briley Joe owned Conway’s Garage, where he was the chief mechanic. It was where Reed would start work tomorrow; no one else in town would employ him. He was determined to support himself and not be a financial burden on his mother and sister, not even for a few weeks.

‘You can save that smile for someone who doesn’t know you the way I do,’ Judy said to her nephew; then she lowered her voice so that only Reed and Briley Joe could hear her. ‘Reed’s not a boy anymore. He doesn’t need my permission to go out honky-tonking with you. But you know as well as I do that he’ll be in violation of his parole if he’s caught in a bar.’

‘Ain’t gonna happen,’ Briley Joe said. ‘The bars are full of ex-cons and don’t nobody care, least of all the cops.’

‘Mama, we’re not—’ Reed started to explain.

‘At least stay long enough to tell your sister good night.’ Judy nodded to the front door, which could be seen plainly from the kitchen.

Mark ruffled Regina’s hair the way an adult would caress a child. ‘Why don’t you stay home tomorrow and spend some time with Reed? Consider it a paid holiday.’

‘Oh, Mark, that’s so nice of you. I’d love to—’

‘She’ll be at work promptly at nine,’ Judy said, emerging from the kitchen to stand, hands on hips, in the middle of the living room. ‘This family doesn’t take charity of any kind. It was nice of you to offer, but Regina works eight hours for eight hours’ pay.’

Damn it, Mama, Reed wanted to shout. Can’t you just once put aside your pride? Giving a valuable, hardworking employee the day off with pay wasn’t exactly charity. Judy Conway had a blind spot when it came to accepting anything for free. She always had been a proud woman – too proud to accept anything from anyone. Even when she’d had to send her kids to bed hungry, she had refused any kind of government assistance. And when other kids ate hot lunches at school, Judy had refused free lunches for Reed and Regina, instead packing peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches every day and somehow scraping together enough money for them to buy a half-pint of milk. To this day, Reed hated peanut butter. We’ll make do had been Judy’s credo. Apparently it still was.

‘I didn’t mean to offend.’ Mark looked down at his feet, obviously a bit embarrassed by Judy’s response to what he had probably thought of as nothing more than a kind offer. ‘Whatever Regina wants.’ Mark opened the door, but before he left he lifted his gaze, nodded to Reed, and then said, ‘Thank you again, Mrs Conway, for your hospitality.’

When Mark walked onto the porch, Regina all but ran after him. Her voice carried from outside, making it easy to hear her comments.

‘Mark, I’m sorry about Mama. You have to understand that she—’

‘It’s all right,’ Mark said. ‘I might not understand your mother, but I admire her. She’s a fine woman. And if you decide to take the day off—’

‘I’d better not. I don’t want to upset Mama. Besides, Reed and I will have plenty of time together now that he’s home. Oh, Mark, I just can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done to help him.’

Feeling like a voyeur, Reed put his arm around his mother’s waist. ‘Why don’t I help you clean up the dishes before Briley Joe and I leave?’

She nodded, glanced quickly at the open front door, and then headed for the kitchen. Briley Joe already had the back door open and was waiting impatiently.

Judy turned to Reed. ‘Mark is a fine young man as well as a very good lawyer. Regina’s lucky to be working for him. She has a bright future. And yes, I know she thinks she’s in love with him and he has no idea how she feels. But I do not for one minute believe he’d ever take advantage of her.’

‘Good God, Mama, who are you kidding? He’s a man, isn’t he? She’s a beautiful woman who’s nuts about him.’

‘If Mark ever realizes how Regina feels about him, he could discover that he has similar feelings for her. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility that he could ask her to marry him.’

‘The way Regina’s father asked you to marry him?’ The minute the words were out of his mouth, he wished them back. In all the years since Regina had been born, they had never once spoken about the circumstances surrounding her birth. He’d been only seven, but he’d known his mother wasn’t married. The kids at school had made ugly comments about Judy, and he’d come home with a bloody nose more than once for defending his mother’s honor.

Judy slapped him, a resounding strike across his cheek. In all his life, she’d never slapped him. But never before had he deserved it more.

‘Mama … God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—’

‘Why don’t you and Briley Joe just leave? Now.’ Judy gathered up dirty dishes from the table and stacked them on the counter.

‘Come on, cuz.’ Briley Joe nodded toward their escape route.

‘I had no right to say what I did.’ Reed’s hand hovered over his mother’s shoulder. ‘I just don’t want to see Regina get hurt.’

‘You go on out and have a good time tonight,’ Judy said, her voice soft and lightly laced with emotion. ‘I’ll leave the back porch light on for you.’ She wiped her hands off on a dishcloth and turned to face Reed. Her eyes were dry. All her tears were lodged in her heart. He knew his mother. She was as tough as nails, as strong as steel. ‘You have your key, don’t you?’

‘Yeah, I’ve got my key.’ He leaned over and kissed her cheek. ‘I’ll holler at Regina before we go.’

By the time he’d said goodbye to his sister, Reed heard Briley Joe racing the motor of his Ford pickup. With a final wave, he headed out the back door. Well, he’d eaten his mama’s home cooking, so that meant one down and two to go – a six-pack and a willing woman were next on his agenda.

When Reed hopped into the truck, Briley Joe squealed the tires as he raced out of the gravel drive and onto the road leading into town.

‘Hell, man, I thought we’d never get out of there.’ Briley Joe shoved his foot down on the accelerator, sending the old truck into greased-lightning speed. ‘After fifteen years without a woman, you’ve got to be dying for some hot pussy.’

Reed laughed, the sound mixing with the warm summer wind blowing in through the open windows. Leave it to Briley Joe to hit the nail on the head. Reed laughed again, louder. Damn, but it was good to be free.

Ella stood outside her mother’s bedroom door. She had never been allowed entrance into Carolyn’s inner sanctum without knocking first and asking permission. She’d been taught respect for other people’s privacy from early childhood. As a little girl she’d felt privileged when she’d been allowed to bring some of her toys to her mother’s suite and play quietly on the floor. Often Carolyn had read to her, and later they’d shared a meal together, just the two of them.

Viola was always nearby. Then and now. If not in the room with them, then hovering just beyond the door to her connecting room. Of course, Ella understood the necessity of having her mother’s nurse close at hand. Viola had joined the household before Ella’s adoption, so her presence in the mansion actually predated Ella’s. Sometimes she felt guilty for wishing she could have her mother all to herself, especially when she thought about how dependent her mother was on Viola. Carolyn’s spine had been severely damaged after a dreadful horseback riding accident, leaving her paralyzed from the waist down. Only daily exercises, seen to by the devoted Viola, keep atrophy from claiming Carolyn’s leg muscles.

Aunt Cybil had upset her mother this evening. It wasn’t the first time and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. As much as she loved her mother, her loyalties were divided. She didn’t approve of her aunt’s drinking or of the way she occasionally treated Uncle Jeff Henry so cruelly. But Ella loved her mother’s younger sister because Aunt Cybil adored her so unabashedly. Her aunt had been the one who’d bought her her first bra; the one who’d explained about menstruation; the person she’d turned to when she wanted to know the facts of life. Often Ella felt as if she had two mothers, each performing different functions in her life. Carolyn was her moral center, the one who taught her good manners and lectured her on the art of being a lady. But it was Cybil who had made mud pies with her and pushed her high into the sky on her backyard swing and taught her how to drive a car.

Whenever a family evening ended badly, Ella knew that it was her job to console her mother, while it was her father’s job – when he was in town – to help Uncle Jeff Henry control Cybil. How was it possible, Ella wondered for the millionth time, that two sisters whose physical appearances were almost identical could have personalities that were poles apart?

She lifted her hand and knocked. Viola opened the door, her expression void of any emotion.

‘She’s been waiting for you,’ Viola said. ‘I’ve changed her into her gown and helped her into bed. I don’t know why she puts up with it. Family or no family—’

‘Why don’t you go on to bed, Viola? I’ll stay with Mother until Daddy returns.’

Her mother’s nurse huffed. ‘Very well, Miss Ella. But if you need me—’

‘I’ll call you if I need you.’

Viola plodded over to Carolyn’s bed, fluffed the pillows around her and asked if she needed anything. Ella watched how caring and attentive the nurse was, and once again she chastised herself for disliking the woman. Viola Mull looked like Mrs Potato Head, with thin legs and a rotund body. She kept her gray hair cut in a short, straight bob that made her head look as round as her figure.

‘Ella, darling, is that you?’ Carolyn’s voice contained just a hint of weakness, as if she was exceedingly weary.

‘Yes, Mother.’

‘Come sit with me.’ Carolyn patted the bed. ‘Talk to me until your father comes home.’

Wearing pale-yellow satin pajamas, Carolyn sat perched in the middle of the massive, canopied mahogany four-poster with white lace trailing down the posts and pooling on the hardwood floor beneath. Pristine white sheets edged with lace perfectly matched the white down coverlet that lay folded at the foot of the bed. White pillows, stacked three deep, rested behind Carolyn’s thin body.

‘Let my hair down for me and brush it, would you?’ Carolyn smiled at Ella. Ever since she’d been a child, Ella would do anything to be rewarded with one of her mother’s smiles. She had spent a lifetime trying to please Carolyn, hoping that in some small way she could repay this lovely woman for having adopted her and for giving her a family and a life that others could only dream of having.

Ella went into the adjoining all-white bathroom and gathered up her mother’s silver brush and comb along with the matching hand mirror. When she sat down on the side of the bed she laid the items in her lap, then scooted up in the bed so that she sat beside Carolyn. Brushing her mother’s hair had become a ceremony over the years, and to this day she loved the feeling of closeness that this simple act generated between them. One at a time, Ella loosened the pins that held Carolyn’s hair in the loose bun. When she removed the last pin, her mother’s shimmery black hair fell down her back, stopping just inches above her waist. Only a few strands of gray glistened when the lamplight struck Carolyn just right.

Ella began brushing, slowly, carefully, making sure she didn’t pull too hard and cause Carolyn any discomfort. As she had so many times before, Ella marveled at her mother’s beauty: alabaster skin, silky black hair and striking silver-gray eyes. How often had Ella wished this woman were her biological mother? If she were, then maybe Ella would be prettier. Even though people often mentioned that she actually resembled both her parents, Ella found it hard to believe that she looked anything like the stunning Carolyn. She did have the same color hair, but there the resemblance ended. Carolyn was thin and petite, classically beautiful and feminine in an old-fashioned, ladylike way.

Ella sighed as she continued brushing her mother’s hair. When she finished the task – one hundred strokes – she held up the mirror so that Carolyn could inspect herself.

‘Lovely, darling. Thank you.’ Carolyn leaned over and kissed Ella’s cheek. ‘You’re such a good daughter. I’m going to miss having you here with me when you and Dan get married.’

Ella tensed. She’d been dreading this conversation. As a child her parents had chosen her playmates, and as a teenager they had often picked her dates. She was well aware of the fact that Dan Gilmore’s parents were part of the old-money set in Spring Creek – people whose ancestors had been a part of this town since before the War Between the States. Carolyn had telephoned Dan’s mother shortly after Dan’s divorce had become final last year and insisted on getting their children together.

‘Mother … I … I don’t think Dan and I will be getting married.’

‘Has that young rascal not even hinted about marriage?’

‘He’s hinted, but … I don’t love Dan.’

Carolyn lifted her eyebrows and rounded her mouth as she sighed. ‘I see. And is there someone else?’

‘No, there’s no one else.’

‘Dan is quite a catch, you know. If you let him get away, some other lucky girl will be wearing his ring by this time next year. His mother has told me that he wants to get married again. His son needs a mother, and a man in his position needs a suitable wife.’

‘And I’m suitable?’

‘Of course you are.’ Carolyn laughed softly. ‘You have all the right credentials. You’re bright and charming and very successful. And you’re Webb Porter’s daughter – and my only child.’

Never once had her mother told her that she was pretty. She knew she wasn’t, but didn’t mothers lie to their little girls and tell even the ugliest duckling that she was the fairest of them all? Carolyn had told her she was smart, clever, charming, loyal, devoted and even sweet, but never pretty.

‘I don’t want to marry a man just because he finds me suitable.’

Carolyn took Ella’s hands in hers and rested them in her lap atop the spotless white sheets. ‘People marry for many different reasons. I’m sure Dan loves you. Why wouldn’t he? But Ella, my dear child, you’re already thirty and you’ve never been exactly popular with men. It’s not as if there’s some white knight out there waiting to sweep you off your feet.’

‘Daddy swept you off your feet, didn’t he?’

Carolyn’s smile wavered ever so slightly. ‘Yes, of course he did. But love like Webb’s and mine doesn’t happen for everyone. What we share is very rare. Naturally, I wish you could find someone like your father, but—’

‘But girls like me don’t end up with hunks like Daddy, do they?’

‘Eleanor Grace Porter! What a thing to say.’ Carolyn couldn’t keep the stern look on her face and soon burst into soft giggles. ‘Webb is a hunk, isn’t he?’

Ella hugged her mother. ‘Yes, he is.’

‘What are my two girls giggling about?’ Webb stood in the doorway, a wide smile on his face.

‘Let’s not tell him,’ Carolyn said. ‘The man’s ego is already the size of Texas.’

‘Girl talk,’ Ella said. ‘Nothing that concerns you.’

Ella kissed her mother, retrieved the silver items from atop the coverlet, and placed them on the bedside table. She paused as she approached her father.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her out into the hall. ‘Goodnight, princess.’

Ella kissed his cheek. ‘Is Aunt Cybil all right?’

His smile vanished. ‘Cybil is her own worst enemy. She’s miserable and she tries to make everyone around her miserable.’

‘I think it would be terribly sad to be married to someone who was in love with someone else.’

Webb tapped her affectionately on the nose. ‘You’re too smart for your own good, young lady. You always were.’

‘Mother wants me to marry Dan.’

‘And what do you want?’

‘I want the kind of love you and Mother have – real love.’

‘If you want real love, then don’t marry Dan Gilmore.’

‘Do you mean that, Daddy? Even if—’

He laid his index finger over her lips. ‘You wait for the real thing. For that can’t-wait-to-see-him, can’t-live-without-him, want-to-be-with-him-forever kind of love.’

Ella hugged Webb fiercely. ‘I love you, Daddy.’

‘And I love you, princess.’

Reed Conway was back in Spring Creek. Paroled today. The bad boy had returned and was sure to stir up trouble. Big trouble. He was the type who’d be damned and determined to prove his innocence. That couldn’t happen – not now; not ever. There had to be a way to put him back where he belonged – behind bars – before he asked too many questions. Before he dug too deep. If he didn’t live up to the conditions of his parole, if he committed a crime, even some minor infraction of the law, he could be sent back to Donaldson. Think. Think. How can I see to it that Reed makes a fatal mistake? Something serious enough to revoke his parole. He can’t be allowed to stay in Spring Creek long enough to unearth any long-buried secrets.

3

She had told him her name was Ivy Sims. She’d been divorced twice and was presently between boyfriends. Her only kid, a fifteen-year-old boy, lived with her first husband in Mobile. She was too friendly, too chatty and very obviously interested in more than sharing a drink at Desperado’s. She’d been skimming her red, claw-like fingernails up and down his arm for the past five minutes, and a couple of times she had none-too-subtly eyed his crotch. He’d had a hard-on since the minute he got a whiff of her cheap perfume – something she’d probably bought at the Dollar Store. If he had his pick of women, Ivy wouldn’t be his number-one choice. She was probably a good ten years older than he was, and every year showed on her darkly tanned face. The deep age lines of a lifetime smoker edged the corners of her mouth and eyes. And, although she had nice, big breasts, she had no hips and a flat ass. But right now, Ivy looked damned good. Like a delicious, greasy hamburger would look to a starving man. She wasn’t prime rib, but horse meat would do if a man was hungry enough. And Reed was hungry. Hell, he was famished.

‘Briley Joe told me you just got out of the pen. Is that right, honey?’ Ivy’s full, red lips widened in a sensual smile.

‘That’s right. Just got out today.’ Reed lifted his bottle and downed the last drops of his fourth beer.

‘You sure do look good for a man who’s been behind bars.’ She wrapped her hand around the hard, bulging biceps of his right arm. ‘You must have spent a lot of time in the prison gym.’

‘I take it that you don’t care that I’ve been in Donaldson for the past fifteen years, convicted of murder.’

‘Who’d you kill? Or are you one of those guys who was “innocent” and did time for a crime you didn’t commit?’ She chuckled teasingly.

‘Yeah, that’s me, all right, an innocent man. They sent me away because a jury said I slit my stepfather’s throat.’

‘I had a stepfather,’ she said. ‘Mean son of a bitch. I thought about slitting his throat a time or two, but my old lady divorced him before I ever worked up the courage.’

‘Want another drink?’ he asked.

‘I think I’ve had enough for now. Want to dance?’

‘Thought you’d never ask.’ He eased off the bar stool, then helped her to her feet and slid his arm around her waist.

When they reached the crowded dance floor, she turned into his embrace and plastered her body against his. His sex tightened painfully. Ivy’s little outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination. Her short skirt showed off a pair of long, skinny legs, and her cropped top hugged her boobs and exposed her midriff. She was pressed so snugly against him that he could barely breath. They moved awkwardly together, their bodies’ rhythms slower than the shit-kicking music the live band played.

Ivy nuzzled the side of his neck, then whispered in his ear, ‘Just how horny are you, honey? Your prick feels like it’s made out of iron.’

‘Horny enough to fuck you for a week and still be hard as a rock,’ he admitted.

She laughed, the sound grating oddly on his nerves. It was a throaty, rough laugh – a vulgar laugh coming from a vulgar woman. Ivy Sims was exactly what he needed tonight. He slid his hand between her breasts, and covered one of them. Her nipple jutted into his palm. He kneaded the round, soft flesh covered by nothing but her stretchy black top.

‘My apartment isn’t far from here,’ she told him. ‘We can be there in ten minutes.’

‘What are we waiting for?’

She grabbed his hand and led him off the dance floor and through the horde of hell-raisers and fun-seekers that frequented Desperado’s. Reed caught a glimpse of Briley Joe sitting at a table with a cute little brunette. His cousin grinned and nodded. In high school, he and Briley Joe had shared the details of their sexual escapades, each always trying to out-boast the other.

The warm, humid night air hit him the minute they went outside. He took a deep, sobering breath. He wasn’t drunk, but he wasn’t completely sober either. He hadn’t had a beer in fifteen years, and four in a row had given him a slight buzz. Reed draped his arm around Ivy’s hips, then lowered his hand to clutch the right cheek of her butt. She giggled again. By the way she reacted to his pawing, he figured she was almost as eager to get laid as he was.

‘Here’s my car.’ She rummaged inside the tiny shoulder bag she carried and pulled out a key chain. ‘You want to drive?’

‘Naw, you drive.’ He caressed her butt. ‘I’d rather concentrate on other things.’

She unlocked the car, pulled out of his arms and shoved him inside onto the front seat. She raced around the hood and got in on the driver’s side. ‘You keep your hands to yourself while I’m driving,’ she told him. ‘We don’t want to wind up in a ditch instead of my big old comfortable bed, now do we?’

‘I’ll keep my hands off you, but it won’t be easy.’ He needed a woman so badly right now that he would gladly screw a three-toed sloth as long as it had tits and a cunt. And Ivy was certainly a few notches above rock bottom.

By the time they reached her apartment, a brick duplex on a tree-lined street on the south side of Spring Creek, Reed had decided that Ivy was downright gorgeous. Hell, he’d always liked blondes, hadn’t he? Even bleached blondes with dark roots.

Ivy’s hands trembled as she unlocked her front door. Reed stood directly behind her, his erection pulsing against her rear end. His muscular arms circled her. One hand covered a breast and the other crept up her skirt and eased between her legs. She shivered with anticipation. She was already hot and wet and throbbing.

She flung open the door. Reed shoved her inside and slammed the door behind them. She’d left a lamp burning in the bedroom, and only that dim glow and the illumination from the nearby streetlight kept the living room from being totally dark. The minute she dropped her shoulder bag on the sofa, Reed reached out and tugged on her cropped top. She lifted her arms and let him remove the garment. He tossed it on the floor and grasped both of her breasts. She groaned in response to the pressure of his big hands as his fingers dug into her flesh.

‘Take it easy,’ she told him.

His touch gentled immediately. His thumbs skimmed over her nipples. She sighed. Then he lowered his head and took one peak into his mouth and suckled. She tossed back her head and moaned with pleasure. He slid his hand between her legs and pushed upward until he reached his goal. After slipping his fingers inside her bikini panties, he rubbed her nub until she closed her legs and held his hand in place. He worked his fingers over her slippery folds and inserted them up and into her.

Reed’s movements were rough and crude. But she had to remember how long it had been since he’d been with a woman. The last time he’d made love, he’d been a kid, a teenager.

Ivy unzipped Reed’s jeans, reached inside, and slipped her hand under his briefs. He groaned deep in his throat when she encircled his shaft and withdrew him gently.

‘God, Ivy, I can’t wait any longer.’ He grabbed her and flung her onto the sofa.

She lifted her hips, jerked off her panties and spread her legs. ‘Come on, big boy.’

‘It’s been a long time for me. I’m out of practice.’ He pulled a condom out of his pocket, ripped open the packet, and slid the rubber over his erect penis.

‘It’s all right, honey,’ she said. ‘I’ll be gentle with you.’

Her teasing laughter turned to gasping sighs when he thrust into her. God, he was big. Big and hard and pumping into her like a jackhammer. If he didn’t slow down, he’d be finished before—

A animalistic cry of completion moaned from deep within him as he climaxed. Convulsions of release racked his body.

He slumped over to her side, easing part of his weight off her. ‘I’m sorry. I know you didn’t come.’

‘It’s all right,’ she said, and meant it. She’d never seen a guy more in need.

‘Give me another chance and I promise I’ll do it right next time.’ He used his fingers to comfort and entice her. ‘What do you say?’

‘Why don’t you stay the night?’

‘I was hoping you’d say that.’

Ella arrived at her office promptly at eight o’clock. She liked to get in earlier, but when her father was in town, she stayed home to have breakfast with him. Ordinarily she grabbed a cup of coffee and a biscuit and ate on her drive from their home on East First Street to the courthouse in the center of the town square. Her mother seldom woke before ten, and then Viola usually served Carolyn breakfast in bed. So, this morning, she’d had her father all to herself. There was no one she loved and admired more than Webb Porter, and she thought herself fortunate to be his daughter. Despite the fact that they didn’t share the same genes, they were remarkably alike. In her case, nurture definitely won out over nature. She was a true Porter in every sense of the word. Her father had told her so many times. The fact that they thought alike on so many issues and had similar traits and habits seemed to delight her father as much as it did her. They were as close as any parent and child could be. She knew without a doubt that she was the joy of Webb Porter’s life. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

Ella laid her briefcase down atop her large antique oak desk. Her father had sat behind this very desk when he’d served as a circuit court judge, before his election to the US Senate ten years ago. When she’d been elected last year, he had told her that she was carrying on a family tradition. Webb had been a local district attorney and then a judge. His father before him had been a congressman, and his grandfather the lieutenant governor.

After removing her jacket and hanging it over the back of her chair, Ella sat down in the tufted-backed oxblood leather swivel chair. Her mind instantly wandered back to something her father had said during breakfast.

‘If that man contacts you, I want to know about it immediately,’ Webb had told her. ‘He swore revenge against me, and I wouldn’t put it past him to come after you in order to hurt me.’

‘Daddy, do you really think Reed Conway is a danger to our family?’

‘I think he very well could be. If he’s bent on getting back at me, then it’s possible that he’ll go after the people I love. So I want you to promise me to be careful and notify me if he approaches you, either in person or with a phone call.’

Ella shivered. A sense of foreboding echoed inside her. Did she truly have something to worry about where Reed Conway was concerned? Was her father being overly cautious? Would Reed actually jeopardize his parole in order to seek revenge? If anything happened to a member of her family, Reed would be the first person the police would question. She really hadn’t known Reed, except to recognize him as Judy Blalock’s son. Judy Conway. After her second husband had been murdered, she’d legally changed her name back to Conway.

And of course, Ella had known Reed as the star of Spring Creek High’s football team. He’d been the guy every girl wanted and every parent feared. He’d had a reputation as a stud, and even when she’d been fifteen, she had understood why girls were drawn to him like moths to a flame. He’d been big and ruggedly good-looking, and possessed a cocky smile that made you think he’d been up to no good. And from what she’d heard, he usually had been up to no good.

A knock on the door brought Ella back from her memories. ‘Yes?’

‘It’s me, Miss Ella,’ a gentle masculine voice said. ‘I’ve come to fix your lights.’

‘Come on in, Roy.’

One of the fluorescent light fixtures overhead had burned out yesterday and she’d had her secretary, Kelly, request a maintenance man to replace the bulb. Roy Moses, with a tool belt hanging below his jelly-belly tummy, just above his hips, entered the room carrying a ladder. He smiled and nodded, his squinty brown eyes, greeting her with his usual appreciative glance. Roy was a few years older than she, a bit slow-witted, and one of the sweetest guys she’d ever known. He wore his white-blond hair cropped short, which made his full face look perfectly round, like a pale pink ball.

‘Good morning, Miss Ella. How are you today?’

‘I’m fine, Roy. And you?’

‘Fine as frog hair.’ He chuckled, the sound a series of deep, slow haw-haw-haws.

‘That’s good.’ Ella had known Roy most of her life. He had a sister who was a nurse and a brother who was a fireman. Roy’s IQ score identified him as borderline retarded, but he was a hard worker who held down two part-time jobs. He wasn’t a member of the regular maintenance staff, but was employed as a part-time janitor who did odd jobs at the courthouse – a position Webb Porter had insisted be created for him. His other position was at Conway’s Garage, where he washed and waxed cars and did odd jobs.

‘Don’t want to disturb you none,’ Roy said as he set up the ladder beneath the fluorescent ceiling fixture.

‘You aren’t disturbing me. Go ahead and do your job.’

‘You look real pretty this morning, Miss Ella.’

‘Thank you.’ Every time he saw her, Roy told her how pretty she looked. She suspected he had an innocent crush on her.

‘Did you hear the news?’ Roy began climbing the ladder.

‘What news is that?’ Ella unsnapped her briefcase.

‘That Reed Conway is out of prison.’

‘Oh, that. Yes. I’m sure everyone in Spring Creek is aware that he was released on parole yesterday.’

‘I liked Reed.’ Roy inspected the light fixture. ‘I’ll have to take this down and go get another one.’

‘You liked Reed Conway? I didn’t realize that you’d actually known him.’

‘Sure, I knew him. He was my friend. My brother Tommy played football with Reed and he used to come to our house sometimes. He was always nice to me. He never made fun of me the way some of Tommy’s other friends did. And he’d let me toss around the football with him and Tommy.’ Roy chuckled his good-natured haw-haw-haw. ‘Reed used to call me “my buddy Roy Boy.”’

‘I didn’t really know him,’ Ella said.

‘You would have liked him. Everybody liked Reed. I couldn’t believe it when they sent him away to prison. Anybody who knew him knew he wouldn’t have killed nobody. Not Reed.’

‘Sometimes even good people do bad things.’

‘I know Reed’s stepdaddy was a bad man, but if Reed killed him, he didn’t mean to.’ Roy removed the burned-out light fixture and climbed down the ladder with it. ‘I’m going to be working with Reed.’

‘What?’

‘Over at the garage,’ Roy said. ‘Briley Joe gave Reed a job. He said wouldn’t nobody else in town give Reed a job. I can’t hardly wait to see Reed again. He’s supposed to start work today. I’ll bet he’ll call me Roy Boy. Sure will be good to have a buddy again.’

Roy carried the light fixture with him as he left Ella’s office. She stared at the metal ladder he’d left behind. In the years since Roy had been working at the courthouse, Ella had found him to be a remarkably good judge of character. It was as if he had some strange sixth sense that allowed him a special insight into human nature. How was it that he could be so wrong about Reed Conway? The man was a murderer. He’d been tried and convicted. Her father had been the prosecuting district attorney, and there hadn’t been a doubt in Webb Porter’s mind that Reed Conway had viciously slit his stepfather’s throat. Even his own mother had been forced to testify that she’d witnessed a brutal fight between a drunken Junior and a furious Reed. Junior Blalock had tried to rape Regina Conway, who’d been only eleven at the time. If Reed had killed Junior while defending his sister, he wouldn’t have been prosecuted for murder, but Reed had caught the man later, after the fact, while Junior had been unconscious. Reed had cut his throat from ear to ear.

I want to wrap my hands around your soft white neck and then move them down your bare shoulders and over your sweet breasts.

Ella shook her head to dislodge the memory, to erase the words that were forever etched in her mind. Words Reed had written to her from prison. Two love letters that had been both frightening and titillating to the sixteen-year-old Ella. Harassing letters that had infuriated her father and prompted him to take legal action to end Reed’s letter writing.

She hoped she could avoid seeing Reed Conway. But what if her father was right and the man sought her out? Heaven help him if he did threaten or harass her in any way. Webb Porter would have the man’s head on a platter.

Reed woke slowly, languidly, lying face down, the smell of cheap perfume on his pillow. He opened his eyes and glanced at the other side of the bed. Empty. He listened. Silence. Where was Ivy? When he lifted his head to look at the alarm clock on the bedside table, he saw the note propped up against the lamp.

Gone to work. Last night was great. Let’s do it again soon. She’d underlined soon three times.

Reed grinned. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so good. Ivy was an all-right kind of woman. She’d been understanding about his lack of patience and expertise. Hell, he was rusty at sex. In the pen, he’d warned off potential rapists. It had helped that he’d been big and surly even as a teenager. And those first few years, he hadn’t given a damn about how much trouble he got into or whether he killed somebody protecting himself. For the past fifteen years, he’d found his sexual pleasure in the palm of his own hand. Fucking a woman beat the hell out of just dreaming about fucking one.

Reed climbed out of bed and stalked off to the bathroom. He peered at himself in the mirror over the sink. His eyes were bloodshot and he badly needed a shave. And he had a silly grin on his face. The grin of a man who’d spent the night screwing a most obliging woman. Ivy wasn’t the girl of his dreams, but she’d been mighty accommodating.

He pawed his chin, testing the scratchiness of his beard stubble. Ivy hadn’t complained about the stubble. She hadn’t complained about anything. Any other woman would have kicked his butt out of her bed and demanded that he shave. He’d just bet that Ella Porter didn’t let a man even kiss her unless he was clean-shaven. Ella Porter, Webb’s darling daughter. He’d barely known the girl. Other than seeing her a few times over the years at the Carlisle house, their paths had never crossed. So why was it that she’d been the girl he had thought about while he was in prison? Why was it that she’d been the fantasy of more than one wet dream? Was it because he’d written her those damn crude love letters? The only reason he’d written them was because he’d known they’d piss off Webb. Fifteen years ago, he’d have done just about anything to hurt Webb. And he’d found out right quick that the best way to get to the high-and-mighty Mr Porter was through his beloved little girl.

Reed took a quick shower, then reluctantly put on the clothes he’d worn the night before. He bundled his briefs into a wad and stuffed them in his jeans back pocket. Before leaving Ivy’s apartment, he checked for her phone number and memorized it. He just might ask her for a repeat of last night’s highly satisfactory performance.

He showed up at Conway’s Garage two hours late for his first morning on the job. But Briley Joe just grinned at him and patted him on the back.

‘Ain’t nothing like good pussy, is there? I’ll bet Ivy taught you a trick or two, didn’t she? As I recall, the lady knows how to please.’

‘She sure as hell pleased me.’

‘She’s not first-class, but you had to start somewhere. You can work off some of your frustration with her and then move on to something better.’

‘Is that your subtle way of trying to tell me that you’ve got something better?’ Reed knew Briley Joe was the sort who liked to brag about his sexual conquests. In that sense, his cousin was as immature as he’d been at eighteen.

‘Yeah, I’m getting some from one of the classiest broads in town. If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.’

‘So, tell me and let me be duly impressed.’

‘Talking kind of fancy, aren’t you? You haven’t let that college degree you earned in the pen go to your head, have you?’

‘That college degree didn’t do me a damn bit of good getting a job on the outside, did it?’ It stuck in his craw that the only job he could get was as a grease monkey in his cousin’s garage. Reed clamped his hand down on Briley Joe’s shoulder and grinned. ‘So who’s this classy broad you’re screwing?’

‘Cybil Carlisle.’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘Yep. I’m getting all I want from Jeff Henry Carlisle’s wife. Can you believe it? And I’m here to tell you that she’s one wild woman.’

‘You’re playing a dangerous game, cuz,’ Reed said. ‘If Jeff Henry ever finds out, you’re as good as dead.’

‘That Pillsbury Doughboy wouldn’t dirty his lily white hands on me.’

‘You’re right about that, but he wouldn’t think twice about hiring somebody to beat the shit out of you, and if that didn’t stop you fooling around with his wife—’

‘Nobody knows. You’re the only person I’ve told. She warned me that if I opened my big mouth about her to anybody, she’d cut me off.’

‘Damn it, man, she’s Webb Porter’s sister-in-law. She was a Walker before she got married. Her family’s been one of the ruling clans in this state for the past two hundred years. Why would she risk her reputation and your life to have an affair with you?’

‘Because Cybil Carlisle likes to walk on the wild side. And I can tell you that there’s nothing better than a lady who wants to get down and dirty with a bad boy. You ought to try it sometime. Maybe with that niece of hers. I’ll bet Miss Ella Porter has never forgotten those hot letters you wrote her.’

‘I’d like to forget those letters, and I’m sure she has forgotten them. From what my mother tells me, Judge Porter is good woman – a real lady. If I even said hello to her, she’d run scared.’

‘You won’t know until you give it a try. Who knows, she might not run.’

‘Ella was never my type. And God knows I wasn’t her type back then, and I’m sure as hell not her type now.’

‘Okay, so the judge doesn’t crank your motor. She’s not the only class act in town. Look around. I’m sure you’ll find somebody who suits you.’

‘I’ll stick with Ivy and her type for the time being,’ Reed said. ‘A good, uncomplicated fuck is all I want from a woman right now. My main focus is on finding out exactly who killed Junior Blalock and let me take the fall. Mark Leamon believes in me and he’s going to help me try to prove my innocence.’

‘You ever think that Aunt Judy might have done it?’

‘No! Mama would never have let me go to prison for a crime she’d committed.’

‘Yeah, you’re probably right. Aunt Judy would do just about anything for you and Regina.’ When Briley Joe removed his ball cap and scratched his head, curly brown locks fell across his forehead. The rest of his shoulder-length hair had been pulled back into a short ponytail. ‘Man, where can you start? The police didn’t find no evidence against anybody but you. And we know you didn’t kill Junior. So who did? Who else besides you, Aunt Judy and Regina had a reason to want to see Junior dead?’

‘I don’t know for sure,’ Reed said. ‘But I’ve made out a list of possible suspects, and Webb Porter’s name is at the top of that list.’

4

Ella removed her robe, hung it in the closet, and collapsed happily in the swivel desk chair. What a day! Presiding over a case fraught with emotion always got to her. She tried not to allow her own personal feelings on the matter affect her, but she found that she was only human and couldn’t completely divorce herself from her own sensitivity on certain issues. Had Clyde Kilpatrick committed suicide, or had his death been a tragic accident? The insurance company said suicide. The family said accident. From today’s evidence, she had reached a tentative decision. But would the jury come to the same conclusion that she had? Even though it meant Clyde’s two children would not see a dime of his insurance money, the facts plainly showed that the man had killed himself. He’d left a note forgiving his wife for her infidelity, but also stating that he didn’t want to live without her. The damning evidence had come from the ballistics expert, who had explained the trajectory of the bullet that entered Clyde’s body, saying that it was highly unlikely, if not impossible, for an accident to have been the cause.

Ella kicked off her two-inch gray heels, wriggled her toes, and lifted her stockinged feet up to rest on her desk. The heel of her foot accidently brushed against a white envelope, sending it sailing off the desk and onto the floor. Grunting, she leaned over and picked up the legal-sized envelope. Her name was typed across the front. Only her name. Eleanor Porter. Odd, she didn’t remember this particular bit of correspondence being on her desk earlier today. She’d eaten lunch at her desk around twelve-thirty – a salad she’d ordered from the Oakwood Bar and Grill across the street from the courthouse.

She flipped the letter over and noticed it was still sealed. Undoubtedly someone had hand-delivered the message. But who? Kelly had already left for the day, so she couldn’t ask her until tomorrow. Ella pulled a brass letter opener from the pencil holder that was part of the gold-monogrammed leather desk set Uncle Jeff Henry had given her when she’d been elected circuit judge last year. After slicing open the envelope, she reached inside and pulled out the single-page missive. She unfolded the white stationery and read.

Ella, sweet Ella, I dream of you at night and wake in a cold sweat. Aroused and wanting you. Desperately. You were meant to be mine. I have made plans for us. Delicious plans. Long, hot nights together. Naked. Going at each other like a couple of wild animals. Monkey fucking. You can’t even begin to imagine all the things I want to do to you. All the things I long for you to do to me. When the time is right, I’ll come for you. I will not allow anyone to stand between us. Not ever again. I’ll make you turn against your evil family. When you choose me, it will break your father’s heart. And that is only the beginning of my revenge.

Ella swallowed hard. Dear God! Who would have sent her such a thing?

The letter was typewritten. Actually, it looked as if it had been composed on a computer and printed from a laser printer. There were several laser printers at the courthouse and one at the public library. And several copy shops provided laser printers for use by their customers. Unless there were fingerprints on the envelope or the plain white paper, there was probably no way to trace the letter.

Was this a prank? Dan Gilmore certainly hadn’t penned the heated love letter. Did she have a secret admirer out there somewhere? Was someone stalking her, watching her without her being aware of his presence? A chill raced up her spine. She’d heard of women being stalked by ex-lovers or ex-husbands, and celebrities being harassed by crazed fans. But she had no ‘ex’ anything. And she certainly wasn’t famous. However, she was a well-known figure in the community, in all of Bryant County for that matter.

Ella Porter, you aren’t the type of woman that men become obsessed with and you know it. No one would ever … Oh, dear Lord, no! Years ago, Reed Conway had written her two letters very similar to this one. Until her father had seen to it that he couldn’t send any more. And Reed Conway had been released from prison yesterday. Was it possible that he had written her this crude love letter? Yes, of course it was possible. If the man still blamed her father for his imprisonment, then he might be trying to get to her father through her. He’d done it once before; why not now?

Daddy would be furious. He would confront Reed and accuse him of harassing her. Even though she couldn’t be sure the letter had come from Reed, there would be no doubt in her father’s mind. He would condemn Reed without benefit of hard evidence. The police would be called in and the story might leak to the media, and her mother would find out and become terribly upset. Ella could well remember the hullabaloo that went on in the Porter household when Reed had written to her from prison. She didn’t want a repeat of those nerve-racking days.

The letter can’t hurt you, she reminded herself. It’s only a bunch of words. If Reed had written it, he had done it solely to get a rise out of Webb Porter. If she didn’t show anyone the letter, then Reed wouldn’t have accomplished his goal. Surely, if he realized she had ignored the silly piece of trash, he wouldn’t bother writing another.

Ella removed a key chain from her pocket and unlocked the bottom drawer of her desk. After pulling out the drawer, she lifted and opened her gray leather shoulder bag, then stuffed the letter back into the envelope. The best thing to do was forget about the message and hope that would be the end of it. But she wouldn’t destroy the letter. Not yet.

She didn’t want to involve her father or the local authorities unless it was absolutely necessary. She wasn’t a sixteen-year-old innocent any more. She was a grown woman, a thirty-year-old circuit court judge. She could certainly handle this situation without help. She would find Reed Conway and confront him with the letter, then warn him that if he knew what was good for him, he’d leave her alone.

Jeff Henry Carlisle sipped tea from a Moss Rose Haviland china cup. The silver tea service that Judy Conway had placed on his intricately carved mahogany desk in the study had been in his family for six generations. The desk itself had come overland from Virginia and then down the Tennessee River to Alabama before the War Between the States, as a wedding present for one of his ancestresses. Of all the fine rooms in his home, he thought he loved this one best. His own private domain, filled with beloved treasures, both family heirlooms and items he had acquired at estate sales and out-of-the-way antique shops. There were even a few items he had picked up on his and Cybil’s trips to Europe. Unfortunately, his wife didn’t give two hoots about the things that were precious to him. ‘A bunch of old junk,’ she’d once said of the priceless antiques that adorned each of the twelve rooms in their home. All the rooms, that is, except her bedroom. She had decorated that room in a garish nineteen-twenties art deco style that made him feel nauseated every time he entered her private quarters.

His wife might physically resemble her older sister, but that was where the similarities ended. Carolyn was a lady, through and through. Genteel, in the way Jeff Henry’s mother had been. A gentleman never used a curse word in her presence, because it would shock and offend her. Carolyn was a fragile flower to be cherished and protected from the harsh realities of the world. Ah, dear, sweet Carolyn. He had loved her madly when they’d been young, but she had thought of him only as a friend. She had wanted no one but Webb Porter. And what Carolyn wanted, Carolyn got. Who could deny such a woman anything?

He supposed that, in a way, he was still in love with Carolyn. But it was a pure love, untainted by anything physical. His love for her was a noble thing, much like that of the knights of old for their fair damsels. Carolyn was a part of his heart. That would have to be enough. She was devoted to Webb and would never leave him.

Jeff Henry sighed as he picked up one of Judy’s homemade oatmeal cookies. He knew he shouldn’t be nibbling, but he’d smelled the cookies baking when he passed the kitchen a half hour ago. In the past few years, he’d acquired a bit of a paunch, but a few extra pounds didn’t hurt a man’s looks the way it did a woman’s. Some people might consider him vain, but he wasn’t. He simply prided himself on his appearance. Cybil told him that his factitiousness drove her crazy.

Well, truth be told, everything about his wife drove him crazy. It hadn’t always been that way. Not in the beginning. When they had first married, she’d tried to please him. He’d been convinced that she actually cared for him.

‘I did my best to be like Carolyn,’ she’d told him. ‘I knew I wasn’t your first choice. I tried, damn it. I tried so hard, but it was never enough. I’m not Carolyn and you’ve never let me forget it.’

He’d made a serious mistake marrying Cybil, but he dealt with things the best he could. He turned a blind eye to her indiscretions. At least she had tried to be discreet about her numerous affairs; he was thankful for that much. The Carlisles didn’t believe in divorce. There had never been a divorce in the family, and he most certainly had no intention of breaking that tradition. Perhaps once he would have considered it, if Carolyn had been free. Poor Carolyn, married to a man who didn’t deserve her, a man who made a mockery of their marriage. But she was happy in her delusional state, and he would do anything – absolutely anything – to make sure nothing and no one ever ruined that happiness for her.

‘Mr Carlisle?’ A woman’s voice broke into his thoughts.

He glanced at the open pocket doors leading into the hallway and saw Judy Conway standing there. An attractive woman, if you liked the sexual, earthy type. ‘Yes, what is it?’

‘I’m leaving for the day,’ she said. ‘Dinner is prepared. The roast and vegetables are in the oven and the salad is in the refrigerator. Will you need anything else before I go?’

‘Has Mrs Carlisle come home?’

‘No, sir, she hasn’t.’

‘Hmm …’

‘I’ll be going now—’

‘Yes. Certainly.’ He waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. ‘I’m sure you’re eager to go home and spend some time with your son.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I do hope you understand why I couldn’t recommend that any of my friends give Reed a job. I realize you were disappointed when I refused, but in all good conscience—’

‘I understand.’ The tension in her voice said that although she might understand, she didn’t forgive. ‘Reed has a job with his cousin Briley Joe.’

‘At the garage?’

‘Yes. It’s honest work. Not quite what I’d hoped for, considering Reed has a college degree. But it was the only job he could find. No one would help him except family.’

Judy’s gaze didn’t quite meet Jeff Henry’s. Her reluctance to look him directly in the eye bothered him. He liked Judy and had a certain amount of respect for the woman. He thought she had always regarded him highly, and he valued her opinion of him. A man should be respected and liked by his employees. That had been his father’s opinion and his grandfather’s before him. For generations the Carlisles had been benevolent employers.

‘Once Reed proves himself, I could be persuaded to reconsider and perhaps help him find more suitable employment. If he stays out of trouble for, let’s say, a year, we’ll discuss my helping him.’

Judy smiled, but the effort seemed false, as if she had forced herself to respond in a positive manner.

‘Thank you, Mr Carlisle. I’m sure Reed will stay out of trouble. He knows how much is at stake.’

‘I wish him well. Personally, you know that I always thought he should have been rewarded for killing Junior Blalock instead of having been sent to prison.’

‘Reed didn’t kill Junior. He was innocent.’

‘Yes. Yes, of course. I’m sure, being his mother, that’s what you’d like to believe.’

Judy laid her clutched fist over her heart. ‘It’s what I know. In here.’

Jeff Henry cleared his throat. ‘You have a good night, you hear? I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Yes, sir.’ She turned and disappeared down the hallway.

Did Judy still truly believe that her son hadn’t killed her second husband? If so, that meant Reed was still professing his innocence. Merciful goodness. Jeff Henry hoped that didn’t mean Reed was going to stir up trouble. It just wouldn’t do for the past to be revisited. If that happened, there was no telling who might wind up getting hurt.

No doubt by now she had found the letter that had been placed on her desk while her secretary had been down the hall on an errand. How had Ella reacted when she’d read the letter? Had she been shocked? Had she known immediately who’d written it? Was she at this very minute showing it to her father?

A self-satisfied smile curled on his moist lips. Ella was such a predictable creature. She would run to Webb and cry for her daddy’s help. Some nasty man sent me this vulgar letter. Do something about it immediately.

Of course, one letter wouldn’t be enough. There would have to be others. And a few untraceable phone calls – some heavy breathing. One step at a time, building slowly to the point when Webb would know his daughter’s life was at stake. It would actually be fun to watch the senator sweat.

Nothing meant more to Webb Porter than his precious daughter. He loved her more than anything on earth. More than he’d ever loved his wife. Far more than any of his mistresses. The easiest way to get Webb’s undivided attention was to harass his only child. And that was all it would be at first – just harassment. But later …

Ella drove past Conway’s garage, which was situated on the corner of West Fifth and Lafayette. Not exactly on her way home, but only a couple of blocks out of her way. She slowed her Jaguar, and with her eyes shaded by sunglasses, she inspected the scene. Two cars were at the pumps, filling up with gas. One of the two large garage doors gaped open to reveal the greasy, cluttered maintenance and repair shop. She caught a glimpse of Briley Joe through the glass front of the building. He was talking to someone she assumed was a customer. Reed’s cousin wore his brown hair shoulder-length and pulled back in a short ponytail. She’d never seen the man wearing anything except jeans, as he did today, and he’d topped off his redneck ensemble with a white T-shirt emblazoned with a colorful emblem of some sort.

She didn’t see Reed anywhere. No need to stop. She’d have to wait and catch him at work another day. Then, just as she started to increase the car’s speed, she caught a glimpse of a tall, muscular man emerging from a car that he’d just backed out of the garage. She instantly knew he was Reed Conway. He was older, bigger. His once-pale ash blond hair was now a dirty blond, almost light brown. Ella’s heartbeat accelerated. Her stomach muscles knotted painfully.

There he is. Stop and talk to him. Confront him with the letter and demand that he leave you alone.

She drove on by, her hands trembling, her nerves rioting. The Jag picked up speed as Ella cruised up West Fifth Street, passing rows of houses, many in ramshackle ruins, others in various states of repair and renovation. Anybody who was someone in this town lived on the east end, but the middle-class version of nouveau riche was restoring the houses on the west end, some now rivaling the stately old homes that had been kept up generation after generation across town.

Coward! You ‘re running away. You don’t have the guts to face him and tell him what you think of him … how you feel about his explicit, threatening love letter. Love letter? No, it was smut, pure and simple. But it had implied a threat, hadn’t it? Just as those two letters he’d written years ago had done.

Ella turned off West Fifth, made the block, and headed back toward the garage. She was not going to run to her father. She was not going to let her mother find out about the letter, knowing how much it would disturb her. She, Ella Porter, was going to handle this little problem herself. Now!

Mustering every ounce of courage she possessed, Ella whipped her Jag off the street and onto the Conway Garage parking area. She killed the engine, snatched the keys from the ignition, and held them tightly in her hand as she took a deep, fortifying breath. When she stepped out of the car onto the pavement, she found her legs wobbly and her heartbeat thundered in her ears. She snapped open her shoulder bag, eyed the white envelope tucked inside, and then dropped her keys on top of her wallet before closing her purse.

You can do this. You will do this. After all, what can he do to you in broad daylight, with witnesses all around?

Squaring her shoulders and tilting her chin, she took several tentative steps and then stopped dead still. Reed Conway turned abruptly as he wiped his soiled hands on a dirty orange rag and looked right at her. She’d never forgotten those ice-cold blue eyes of his. The few times she’d run into him at her aunt and uncle’s house, he’d always stared at her. Never smiled; never spoke. Just glared at her with those incredible sky blue eyes.

But he can’t see your eyes, she reminded herself, not with your sunglasses on. He can’t look into your eyes and know what you’re thinking. He can’t see the fear … the disgust … or the curiosity. She’d always been curious about Reed, always wondered what it would be like to find out first-hand just what it was about him that had fascinated the girls and intimidated the boys.

Without realizing what she was doing, Ella surveyed him from head to toe. A good six-three. Broad shoulders. Big arms. Biceps bulging, plainly visible, bared by his sleeveless blue-and-white tank top. He was surprisingly tan. He must have served on an outdoor work crew while he was in prison, she surmised. His thick tawny hair curled about his neck and ears. He needed a haircut. His long, thin sideburns met the brown stubble that covered his face. Obviously the man hadn’t shaved this morning. The stonewashed jeans hugged his lower body. Ella swallowed hard.

Reed Conway was the sexiest man she’d ever seen, bar none. A lazy, raw sensuality oozed from his pores.

He continued staring at her, as if he were gauging her worth as a desirable woman. She was unaccustomed to men taking stock of her physical assets. Men appreciated her for her intelligence, her warm and caring personality, and her social status. She was no great beauty – a fact that disappointed her mother. But Carolyn assured her that being beautiful was often more a curse than a blessing. So why was Reed looking at her as if he found her attractive? Did he know who she was? Had he recognized her and was only toying with her?

Enough of this! she told herself. You didn’t come here to fall victim to Reed’s obvious charms. Nor did you come here to have him ogle you. Marching across the space that separated them, Ella kept reminding herself of who she was and why she was here. Show him the letter and tell him you’re giving him fair warning that sending another letter would be useless, that you’re not going to show the damn thing to your father.

Reed watched the woman as she approached him. Classy. Well-dressed in a simple gray pinstriped suit and pale gray blouse. Even her gray leather shoes and shoulder bag matched. And she was driving a Jag. A rich, classy broad. That’s what Briley Joe would call her. Shiny black hair, secured in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. Pale olive skin. Smooth and creamy. Even on a hot day like today, she looked cool. What was someone like her doing here? He glanced past her and eyed her car. He’d thought she might have a flat tire, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Maybe a little car trouble?

When she stopped directly in front of him, he flashed her his I’d-like-to-strip-you-naked-and-screw-you-right-here-and-now smile.

She didn’t return the smile. Okay, so she wasn’t interested. No big deal.

‘What can I do for you?’ he asked.

‘You’re Reed Conway, aren’t you?’

She knew him? Was she someone from his past? An old girlfriend? He’d managed to lay several Spring Creek debutantes when he was in high school. But not this one. If he’d ever gotten in her pants, he’d remember her.

‘Who wants to know?’ He gave her a once-over, concentrating on the area from breasts to knees. Giving a lady that kind of sexual appraisal had away of separating the women from the girls, as well as the available from the unavailable. Besides, he enjoyed looking. She had nice tits – big, but not too big. A small waist. And wide hips. Not today’s fashionable figure, but still the kind that gave a guy a woody.

She removed her sunglasses and held them tightly in her left hand. A hand without rings. Short, neatly manicured nails with clear polish. Not flashy. Not married. Not engaged.

He took a good look at her face, but didn’t instantly recognize her. Had he known her? She was pretty. Not beautiful the way his mother and sister were, but alluring in an almost exotic way. Full lips, glazed with a colorless sheen. A square face, a well-defined nose, and a pair of large, striking, dark eyes – eyes so brown they appeared almost black.

She stared at him, her gaze boring into him and her lips slightly parted. Suddenly he remembered those eyes. Other things about her had changed. She’d lost weight, grown an inch or two taller, and now possessed an air of confidence that had been lacking in the young girl who’d watched him with those remarkable black eyes.

‘Ella Porter, my, how you’ve changed.’ He grinned when a look of shock drained the color from her face.

‘So have you, Mr Conway.’

‘Why so formal, Ella? Call me Reed.’

‘Mr Conway, I have a reason for coming here, and it isn’t so that we can get to know each other on a first-name basis.’

‘Then I take it you didn’t stop by to welcome me home on behalf of the Porter family.’ He sensed the tension in her tighten, and he couldn’t help enjoying being able to irritate her so easily.

‘I received a rather disturbing letter today.’

She snapped open her small gray shoulder bag. That was when he noticed her hands were trembling. She was scared. Scared of him. Son of a bitch! She jerked a white envelope from her purse and held it between them as if it were a weapon that would hold him at bay.

‘Bad news?’ he asked flippantly.

‘Bad news for you,’ she replied, shaking the envelope in his face. ‘I’m not going to run to my father with this. Do you hear me, Mr Conway? Writing me vulgar, harassing letters isn’t going to upset my father, because he won’t see this letter or any future letters. You’re wasting you time trying to get to him through me.’

‘So you received a vulgar, harassing letter today and you immediately assumed it was from me?’

‘Are you denying that you sent this?’ She flapped the envelope in his face again.

He grabbed her wrist. She gasped. The fear in her eyes gave him an odd sense of pleasure, but it was a pleasure mixed with pain. ‘Stop waving that damn thing in my face.’ She twisted her wrist, trying to free it from his grip, but he held fast. She glared at him, the fear in her eyes turning to anger. Ah, he liked the anger much more than the fear. ‘I’m not denying anything. Nor am I admitting to anything.’

‘I hardly expected you to admit it,’ she said, glancing from his face to her wrist. ‘Will you please let go of me?’

‘All in good time, Miss Ella.’ Tugging on her wrist, he practically dragged her toward the side door of the garage. ‘But first, I think you and I need to have a little private talk.’

5

Reed hauled Ella into the garage. She protested verbally and struggled against his overpowering strength. What had she been thinking, coming here and confronting him this way? The man was a convicted murderer!

‘Let go of me this instant or you’ll be sorry.’

He ignored her, damn him! He pulled her inside a windowless room that possessed only two pieces of furniture: a cheap ‘Kmart special’ swivel chair and an old metal desk piled high with books, magazines and papers. A small air conditioner hummed and rattled in a hole cut out of the concrete wall. With wide eyes and mouth agape, Briley Joe shot out of the chair.

‘We need to use your office for a few minutes,’ Reed said.

Briley Joe shut his mouth and stared at them, grinning at first and then grimacing when he apparently recognized Ella. ‘You do know who she is, don’t you?’

‘Yeah, I know who she is.’

‘Have you lost your mind, manhandling Webb Porter’s daughter?’

‘If he doesn’t let me go, I’ll have him arrested,’ Ella said.

‘Hey, cuz, let her go. You can always find another woman. You don’t want to wind up back in the pen over a piece of ass.’

‘A piece of – how dare you!’ Ella glared at Briley Joe. Did that imbecile think Reed had dragged her into the garage office for a little slap and tickle? Her heart nearly thumped out of her chest. Unbidden thoughts swirled through her mind. She started to protest such Neanderthal treatment once again, but before she could do more than open her mouth, Reed shoved her down in the chair that Briley Joe had recently vacated. She gasped aloud as her bottom hit the seat, which was still warm from Briley Joe’s body heat.

‘Close the door on your way out,’ Reed told his cousin, who left immediately and quietly closed the door behind him.

‘I don’t know what you think this little scene will accomplish, Mr Conway, but I hope it’s worth it to you because I can assure you that it’s going to cost you dearly.’ Ella used her authoritarian judicial voice, the same commanding tone she used in the courtroom.

Reed settled his backside onto the edge of the desk, reached out, and spun around the chair she sat in so that she was forced to face him. Resting his hands on the chair’s armrests on either side of her hips, he leaned forward, getting close enough so that she could feel his breath on her face. Startled by his nearness, she blinked several times.

‘You certainly grew up nice, Miss Ella.’ He raked his gaze over her face and down her throat, stopping at her breasts, then retraced his visual journey until their eyes met. ‘Real nice.’

‘Is this step two in your plan to sexually harass me so that my father will come after you?’ Keeping her gaze locked with his, she refused to let him know how much he intimidated her. He was a big man, powerfully built, and surrounded by an undeniable aura of danger.

‘You’ve got me all wrong,’ he said, grinning. ‘Besides, it seems to me, if anybody’s doing any harassing, it’s you.’

‘Me?’ She wanted to knock that cocky smile off his face. Her hands balled into fists, crushing the white envelope in the process. She prided herself on her even-tempered disposition. But this man had enraged her so easily that she felt shocked at her irrational reaction to him.

‘Yeah, you. I was here at work, minding my own business, being a law-abiding citizen, when you showed up and started tossing out accusations, accusing me of something I didn’t do. I figure that could be called harassment.’

‘Are you denying that you sent this to me?’ She held up the letter she still clutched in her fist and waved it around, all but slapping him in the face with it.

He peered at her over the edge of the envelope, which rested just below the bridge of his nose. ‘The vulgar, harassing letter? Nope. I don’t know anything about it, except what you’ve told me.’

He continued staring at her. Those incredible blue eyes hypnotized her. She couldn’t help wondering how many other women had been caught and held by the mesmerizing coldness in Reed Conway’s eyes. She swallowed. Get hold of yourself, Eleanor Porter. He’s just a man, like any other man. He puts his pants on one leg at a time, right? Yeah, sure. She couldn’t kid herself. Reed might put his pants on in the same way other men did, but he wasn’t like other men. He never had been. Not at eighteen. Not now. He had been a star athlete headed for the University of Alabama on a football scholarship when he’d killed his stepfather. He’d had a bad boy reputation with girls and women alike when he’d been Bryant County’s teenage heartthrob and the bane of concerned parents’ lives. She remembered accidentally overhearing her uncle Jeff Henry make an off-color comment about Reed all those years ago.

‘That boy’s got a man-sized ego because he’s bigger and better on the football field than anybody else. And the ladies seem to think what he’s got between his legs is bigger and better, too.’

She could still hear her uncle’s and her father’s macho chuckles, each in his own way both condemning and envying the boy from the wrong side of the tracks who had been destined for football superstardom.

And now Reed was different because he was a convicted murderer who had served fifteen years in prison. What had those years done to him? Losing everything – his freedom and the promise of a rich and famous future – must have embittered him. He had sworn revenge, hadn’t he? Against her father. But he had also sworn something else.

He had sworn he was innocent.

But that wasn’t possible. He’d been given a fair trial and was found guilty by a jury of his peers. Not only her father, but everyone in town knew he was guilty. He had to be guilty. All the evidence pointed directly to him. He had admitted beating his stepfather until he was unconscious. The knife used to slit Junior Blalock’s throat had belonged to Reed, and only his fingerprints had been found on it.

‘If you didn’t send me this letter, then who did?’ Ella asked. ‘Who else would have a reason to send me something like this? The content is very similar to those two letters you wrote to me …’

‘I shouldn’t have written those letters to you.’

Ella lowered the hand that held the scrunched envelope. She didn’t know if she moved closer or if Reed did, but suddenly they were nose to nose. A wave of dizziness forced her to blink and then refocus her vision so that she looked away, over his shoulder toward the dingy white wall behind him.

‘I was wild with anger when I first got to Donaldson,’ he said, his voice low, even and unbelievably calm. ‘I lashed out at everyone and everything. I hated your father and I wrote those letters to you to get a rise out of him. It was a stupid mistake. One I’ve regretted for a long time.’

He sounded so sincere that she almost believed him. Dear Lord, she wanted to believe him. She wanted to reach out and stroke his beard-stubbled cheek and tell him that she truly believed he regretted his past sins. She clenched her fist tightly at her side so that she didn’t respond physically, didn’t allow her own unchecked emotions to get her into trouble. As a small child, her spontaneous, emotional actions had worried her mother terribly, so she’d learned to curb those tendencies in order to please Carolyn.

‘I’d like to believe you,’ Ella said, proud that her voice didn’t tremble even though she was shaking like a leaf inside. ‘But it seems too much of a coincidence that the day after you’re released from prison, I receive a letter very similar to the two you sent me fifteen years ago.’

‘Maybe it’s not a coincidence,’ Reed suggested. He released the chair arms and rose to his full, imposing height.

Ella tilted her head and stared up at him. ‘What are you implying?’

‘I know that I sure as hell didn’t write that letter to you, but circumstantial evidence points to me. Maybe whoever sent it wants you to think I’m the person who wrote it.’

‘But why?’

‘To get me in trouble.’

Ella rose to her feet but quickly realized her mistake. Reed didn’t move out of her way, so only inches separated her body from his. She felt his heat, smelled his sweat, heard his indrawn breath when his leg accidentally brushed against hers. Or had it been accidental?

‘Why … why would someone want to get you in trouble?’

‘If I get in big enough trouble, I go back to the pen.’ Did Reed sway slightly toward her or did she lean into him? Only a hairbreadth separated them now. ‘Whoever really killed Junior Blalock doesn’t want me to stay free, doesn’t want me snooping around trying to find out the truth.’

For a split second, she thought he was going to kiss her. She froze to the spot, unable to move, unable to breathe. You don’t want him to kiss you, do you? She realized that yes, she did want him to kiss her, and the shock of it motivated her self-preservation instincts. Maybe Reed Conway fascinated her in a way no other man ever had. Maybe the aura of danger and machismo that was such an intrinsic part of him aroused some primitive female needs within her. But she was an intelligent, cautious woman who knew better than to succumb to baser instincts.

Ella eased around Reed, unavoidably brushing against him as she passed. He made no move to restrain her. Instead, he followed her to the door, reached around her, grabbed the knob and opened the door. His big, hairy arm looped around her waist. She was painfully aware of what their close proximity might look like to anyone who could see them. It would never do to have someone catch her practically in Reed Conway’s arms.

‘I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt this time,’ she told him. ‘If you say you didn’t write this letter’ – she glanced at the letter she still gripped tightly in her hand – ‘then I’ll take your word for it. But if I receive another, I won’t be able to dismiss it so easily. Do I make myself clear, Mr Conway?’

He grinned. Damn him! ‘Yes, Miss Ella, you make yourself perfectly clear. But you’re talking to the wrong man.’

A heated flush crept up her neck and colored her cheeks. ‘Just stay away from me … and from my family.’

‘It will be my pleasure.’

Ella practically ran from him, her footsteps clicking against the concrete floor of the garage as she made her hasty escape. She didn’t slow her pace until she reached her car; then, breathless with uncertainty and heightened senses, she halted long enough to get control of herself before she slid behind the wheel. Prompted by an urgent need to run, to get far away from Reed as fast as she could, Ella inserted the key into the ignition and started the engine. As she zoomed the Jag out into the street, the tires squealed loudly. When she dared a glance in her rearview mirror, she saw a smiling Reed Conway standing in the doorway, waving goodbye.

‘Now, there, my man, is one fine piece of ass,’ Briley Joe said as he walked up beside Reed. ‘Got class written all over her.’

‘Yeah, she’s a class act, all right.’ Reed shook his head and laughed. ‘She’s scared shitless of me. And I don’t think it’s just because I’m a convicted murderer.’

‘You think the judge has got the hots for you, cuz?’

‘I think she’s scared of me. That’s all.’

‘Yeah, but wouldn’t you like to know what it feels like to make it with one of her kind?’

‘Not much chance of that.’ Reed shrugged. ‘Women like Miss Ella are too high class for the likes of you and me.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ Briley Joe snickered.

Reed glanced at his cousin and noted the self-satisfied grin on his face. ‘Don’t compare Ella with her aunt.’

‘Some high-class dames like to get their hands dirty – real dirty.’ Briley Joe hooked his lean fingers over Reed’s shoulder. ‘Even if you don’t think she’s anything like her aunt, who knows? Judge Porter might get real turned on just thinking about jumping in the sack with an ex-con.’

Ever the dutiful daughter, Ella called and left a message with Bessie to let her mother know she’d be home a little later than usual. She’d been driving around for the past half hour asking herself what the hell had happened between her and Reed Conway. She had stopped by the garage to confront him about the letter she’d received and came away badly shaken and halfway convinced that the man hadn’t sent it to her.

You’re an idiot, she scolded herself as she turned left on Tallulah Street. She needed someone to talk to about what had happened and about her confused emotions. She certainly couldn’t run home and confess to her mother that she’d gotten all hot and bothered over Reed Conway. Carolyn was apt to have heart failure just at the thought that Ella might have spoken to the man. And if she even mentioned Reed’s name to her father, he was liable to take gun in hand and go after him. No, this situation called for the sympathetic ear of a friend.

She parked her Jag in the driveway beside the restored Victorian house at 508 Tallulah Street. Ella’s best friend since childhood, Heather Marshall, had recently returned to Spring Creek after an absence of five years, and the two had picked up right where they’d left off. Of course, during that five years when Heather had lived in Mobile, they’d phoned each other on a regular basis and had visited twice a year. Ella had been Heather’s maid of honor when she married Lance Singleton. She’d sat by Heather’s hospital bed when she suffered a miscarriage. And she’d offered support during Heather’s ugly divorce ten months ago.

Ella stood on the flower-lined brick walkway in front of the house that had belonged to Heather’s grandmother and had gradually fallen into disrepair after the old lady’s death ten years ago. Heather had spent a small fortune restoring the place, and now the facade boasted its original Victorian colors: pink, cream and green.

Working on the house had, according to Heather, saved her sanity after her divorce. Luckily, Heather had inherited enough money that she didn’t have to work unless she wanted to, and Heather definitely preferred a life of leisure.

Thinking about how different she and Heather were, how different they had always been, Ella rang the doorbell. Even as children, they’d been exact opposites in appearance and temperament. Ella waited. No one came to the door. She rang the bell again. No response. Heather was home. Her black Corvette was parked in the driveway. Ella tried the bell one final time, then gave up and walked off the porch. She’d try the back door. When she made her way around the side of the house and opened the gate that led into the enclosed backyard, she heard water splashing. Of course. Why hadn’t she realized that Heather would be in the pool?

Ella marched across the patio and reached the side of the pool just as Heather emerged, water dripping from her tall, slender body, which was clad in a thong and nothing else. Now, as always, Ella envied her friend’s almost boyish physique. No matter how much Heather ate – and she had a ravenous appetite – she remained pencil-skinny. But whenever Ella had mentioned this fact to her best buddy, Heather had informed Ella that with boobs like hers, she didn’t need to envy anyone.

‘Hey, girlfriend, what are you doing here?’ Heather reached for a large white towel resting on the wicker chaise longue a couple of feet away, then picked up the towel and ran the terry cloth over her freckled arms and legs. Four sets of gold hoops in Heather’s ears and two gold toe rings glistened in the sunlight. A quartersized tattoo of a red heart stood out plainly on Heather’s tanning-bed-tawny buttock.

‘I need an understanding friend to tell me that I haven’t completely lost my mind.’ Ella rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers, trying unsuccessfully to ease the headache that had hit her moments after leaving Conway’s Garage.

Heather tossed the damp towel onto the tiled patio floor, picked up a short, see-through robe and slipped into the hot pink fishnet garment. ‘The ever sane and sensible Judge Eleanor Porter thinks she might have lost her mind. I’m shocked. Sit down’ – Heather pointed to the wicker chair to her left – ‘and tell Auntie Heather all about it.’

Ella sat, sighed and closed her eyes. ‘You cannot repeat what I’m about to say to another living soul.’

Heather plopped down on the chaise longue. ‘Oh, boy, this must be good. Tell me it has something to do with a man.’

Ella’s eyes popped open and she gazed at her friend with a startled expression. Maybe this was a bad idea. Heather was bound to get a great deal of pleasure from Ella’s admission. After all, Heather had always been the wild one, dating bad boys and even marrying one. On the other hand, Ella had always been the sensible one, dating only upstanding men who had received the stamp of approval from her mother.

‘My God, it is about a man.’ Heather twisted around on the chaise and faced Ella. ‘Surely not Dan Gilmore. The guy is as dull as dishwater.’

‘No, it’s not about Dan.’ Ella hesitated. Her heartbeat accelerated. ‘It’s about Reed Conway.’

‘Reed Conway?’ Heather’s mouth dropped open. ‘Reed Conway who was sent to prison for murdering his stepfather?’

Ella nodded.

Heather scooted to the edge of the chaise and leaned forward toward Ella. ‘I take it that you’ve seen him since he was released from prison yesterday. Come on’ – Heather motioned a hurry-up wave with her fingers – ‘confess. How did you happen to run into Reed and—’

‘I didn’t run into him,’ Ella said. ‘I … I stopped by Conway’s Garage to see him.’ She opened her purse, jerked out the letter, removed it from the envelope and handed it to Heather. ‘I found this lying on my desk this afternoon.’

Heather took the letter, scanned it quickly and let out a long, low whistle. ‘Hmm … This must have reminded you of those two letters Reed wrote to you way back when. So, you think he wrote this letter?’

‘That’s what I thought.’

‘You went to see Reed about this letter?’ Heather stuffed the letter back into the envelope and returned it to Ella. ‘Why on earth didn’t you just call Frank Nelson? Checking into something like this is a job for our police chief. I cannot believe you actually confronted Reed. I’d have been scared spitless to accuse him to his face.’

‘I didn’t want Daddy to find out and go ballistic or for Mother to get all upset, so I thought that if I handled the problem myself—’

‘What did Reed say? Mercy, Ella, what did he do?’

‘He denied writing the letter.’

‘Of course he did. You didn’t think he’d admit to doing it, did you?’

Ella sighed. ‘After speaking to Reed, I’m not so sure he wrote the letter.’

‘Uh-oh.’

‘What does that mean?’ Ella asked.

‘It means something else went on between you and Reed, didn’t it? Something besides a confrontation over that letter.’

Ella nodded. She twined her fingers together and nervously rubbed her thumb over the palm of the opposite hand. ‘I can’t explain what happened. It was like heat lightning. For just a split second, I thought he was going to kiss me.’

‘You’re kidding me.’ Heather reached out and grabbed Ella by the shoulders. ‘Now, you listen to me, girlfriend – stay away from Reed Conway. The guy is trouble with a capital T. Whatever game he’s playing with you is a dangerous one. He’s got to know that the best form of revenge against your father is by using you.’

‘Don’t you think I know that? But it doesn’t change the fact that I … responded to him. I wanted him to kiss me. I actually hoped he would kiss me.’

‘Shit!’

Reed rang the doorbell, then banged on the door. Ever since sweet Miss Ella Porter had left the garage, he’d been walking around with a hard-on. What kind of fool did that make him? He had wanted to lift her onto the desk in Briley Joe’s office, strip off her panties, part her legs and ram himself into her. When she’d stared at him with those big brown eyes, it had taken all his will power not to grab her and kiss her. And if he hadn’t read her wrong, he figured that she would have let him. Kiss her, that is. Not screw her.

Reed knocked again. The door swung open and Ivy Sims’ mouth spread into a wide grin.

‘Well, hello there, sugar. You’re early. I just got out of the shower.’

Reed visually raked her body from neck to knees. The short floral robe hung open just enough to reveal her thighs and parted above the belt to give him a glimpse of the inner curve of her breasts. Reed pushed her backward, came into the apartment and shoved the door closed with his foot. Then without saying a word, he grabbed Ivy, thrust his tongue into her mouth and lifted her up by her butt. She quickly wrapped her legs around his hips as he carried her through the living room and straight to her bedroom. She giggled when he tossed her onto the bed. He unzipped his jeans; then pulled a small square packet from his pocket. She squirmed and held out her arms when he opened her robe. He parted the fly of his briefs and freed his sex, then donned the condom hurriedly. Ivy cried out with pleasure when he impaled her.

He drove into her like a madman, all the while with his eyes tightly shut. The woman beneath him wasn’t the one he wanted, but he could pretend she was, couldn’t he?

6

Expecting a call from Heather, Ella answered the phone on the third ring. ‘Hello?’

Silence. Complete quiet. Eerie nothingness. Ella’s hand tightened on the telephone receiver as she said, ‘Hello. Is anyone there?’

Breathing. Deep, heavy breathing. Sensual panting. Just like the two unknown calls she had received yesterday.

‘If you have something to say to me, say it. Otherwise, do not call me again!’ Ella slammed down the receiver. When she lifted her hand, she noticed the slight tremble. Stop this! She tightened her hands into fists and slammed them down atop her desk.

Phone calls cannot hurt you, she reminded herself. Whoever is on the other end of the line is harassing you, trying to upset you. The caller had not done anything to warrant the fear that grew steadily within her. Ever since she’d received the letter three days ago, she had argued with herself over Reed Conway’s involvement. Was he or was he not the guilty party behind the letter and the phone calls? He was, of course, the most obvious suspect, but that alone could not condemn him. But if not Reed, then who? She had read through her files, studying every case over which she had presided since she’d become a circuit court judge. Had a disgruntled felon felt unjustly convicted? Not one of the men or women whom she’d sentenced to prison had threatened her or made any comments about injustice or revenge.

A light tapping outside her office door brought her back from her thoughts. ‘Yes?’ Ella’s heartbeat roared in her ears. Where was Kelly? Why wasn’t she running interference for her?

The door cracked open slightly and Roy Moses stuck his head in and smiled at her. ‘Morning, Miss Ella.’

She breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Good morning, Roy.’ Ella checked her watch and realized that it wasn’t quite eight. Kelly wouldn’t arrive until eight-thirty.

‘I was sweeping up along the hall and saw something lying outside your door.’ Roy lifted his meaty hand and held out a white envelope. ‘It’s got your name on it.’

Ella sucked in a deep breath as anxiety swept through her like a tidal wave. Don’t let it be another letter from him. ‘Please, bring it on in.’ She stood and walked toward the door to meet Roy.

‘You sure do look pretty this morning.’ Roy held out the envelope.

‘Thank you.’ Ella forced a smile, then grasped the envelope. She noticed that her name was typewritten, as on the first letter. Her stomach did a nervous flip-flop.

‘You have a good day.’ Roy plodded toward the door.

‘You too,’ Ella called after him. The moment he closed the door, she picked up the letter opener from her desk and sliced open the envelope. Willing herself to be calm, she eased the single page of unlined paper from its casing. As she spread open the folded missive, she prayed that it wasn’t what she thought it was.

Have you been thinking of me? I’ve been thinking about you. Bad thoughts. Dirty thoughts. Thoughts that would make you cream your pants.

Ella stopped reading. It was from him! Another sexually explicit, harassing letter. A crude, threatening love letter just like the one she’d received three days ago. Just like the two Reed had sent her from prison fifteen years ago.

This had to stop. She couldn’t continue ignoring the matter. Three heavy-breathing phone calls and two menacing letters. She’d thought she could handle the situation without involving anyone else, but she’d been wrong.

Ella picked up the telephone receiver, dialed the familiar number and waited.

‘Porter residence,’ the housekeeper said.

‘Bessie, this is Ella. Is my father there?’

‘Yes, ma’am. He’s in the library.’

‘I’d like to speak to him, please.’

‘Certainly.’

The moment she entered Callahan’s, Ella saw her father at the bar. She lifted her hand and waved. Smiling, he returned the gesture, then motioned for her to join him. Making her way through the crowd of waiting customers in the entrance foyer, she moved steadily toward the bar. The moment she approached him, Webb grabbed her and hugged her.

‘I can’t think of anything nicer than your inviting me to lunch,’ Webb said, then winked. ‘Unless it would be inviting me to your wedding.’

‘Now, Daddy.’

‘You know how much your mother likes Dan. She’s been after me to remind you that he’d make a great husband and father.’ Webb ran his hands down her arms and then grasped her wrist. ‘Sit. Our table should be ready soon. What can I order for you?’

‘Perrier with lemon.’ She took the bar stool next to her father. ‘Thanks for meeting me on such short notice. I hope Mother didn’t mind my taking you away from the house. I know how much she treasures your days at home with her.’

Webb’s smile faltered. ‘I realize your mother thinks I neglect her, but—’

‘She understands how busy you are and how important your career is to you.’

‘Your mother’s life hasn’t been easy. We’ve both done the best we could with the hand fate dealt us.’ Webb lifted his bourbon to his lips and downed the last drops, then ordered another when he asked the bartender to bring Ella’s bottled water. ‘You mustn’t worry. I told Carolyn that you’d invited me to lunch and she was delighted. You do know that your mother adores you.’

Ella sighed. ‘Yes, of course I know.’ There were times when Carolyn’s actions proved without a doubt that she did indeed adore her only child. But sometimes Ella sensed just a little envy coming from her mother. She understood that Carolyn often felt left out of the numerous activities Ella enjoyed with Webb. Things like tennis and golf and swimming. And being so acutely aware of her mother’s discontent broke Ella’s heart and made her all the more determined to be a good and loving daughter. There was nothing she wanted more than for her mother to be able to walk again. It had been her fondest dream since childhood.

‘So, to what do I owe this honor?’ Webb asked. ‘I know that you often eat lunch in your office, so why take the time today to have lunch with your old man?’

The bartender set Ella’s Perrier in front of her and then placed Webb’s second glass of bourbon on the bar. Ella lifted her drink and took a sip.

‘Before I tell you anything, I want you to promise me that you aren’t going to lose your temper and rush out of here half-cocked.’

Webb eyed her curiously. ‘Well, you’ve intrigued me, princess. I can’t imagine what you could say that would have that effect on me.’

Callahan’s hostess approached them. ‘Your table is ready, Senator Porter.’

Within minutes they were seated at the best table in the restaurant. Webb ordered for both of them, the way he’d done since Ella was a child. Even though she wanted to remind him that she was thirty now and not six, she didn’t protest. One of the things she loved about her father was the fact that he never changed. He was her rock, her support, her friend and her hero. She had always worshiped the ground Webb Porter walked on.

‘I promise not to lose my temper, so feel free to share this upsetting news with me. It isn’t something about Cybil, is it? If it is, I hope we can keep it from your mother. You know how she gets upset over her sister’s antics.’

‘No, Daddy, it isn’t about Aunt Cybil.’ Ella laid her purse on the table, opened it and withdrew two white envelopes, both wrinkled from having been crushed in her hand. ‘I received one of these three days ago and the other this morning. And I’ve had three phone calls where the person on the other end didn’t do anything except breathe heavily.’ She handed the letters to her father.

Webb removed the first letter from the envelope and read it slowly and thoroughly. His face darkened with rage, but he didn’t say a word. Then he read the second letter. His breathing quickened.

‘If you received one of these letters three days ago, why didn’t you tell me then?’ Webb slipped the letters inside his coat pocket.

‘I thought … well, I hoped that it would just be the one letter.’

‘You realize who sent these, don’t you?’ He tapped his jacket, where the letters rested inside his pocket. ‘But if he thinks he can get away with harassing my daughter, he’d better think again.’ Webb’s voice grew louder with each word he spoke. ‘I’ll put his ass back in prison where he belongs.’

‘Daddy, you can’t be one hundred percent sure it’s—’

‘Of course it’s Reed Conway. Who else could it be?’

Patrons seated nearby turned their heads to stare at Webb. Ella reached across the table and laid her hand over her father’s big fist. ‘Calm down. People are staring.’

Webb glanced around at the curious faces. Placing a fake politician’s smile on his face, he nodded at several acquaintances, then opened his tight fist and clutched Ella’s hand.

‘If that man ever comes near you, I’ll kill him!’ Webb spoke in a low but deadly serious voice.

‘I was afraid you would react this way. That’s why I hesitated to tell you.’

With a large serving tray hoisted on one hand, their waitress paused by the side of the table. Webb released Ella’s hand and offered the waitress a smile.

‘Please let me know if you need anything else, Senator Porter.’

‘I’ll surely do that.’

The minute the waitress served the food and went on to take the order at another table, Webb lifted his steak knife and cut into the thick T-bone. Blood oozed from the rare meat.

‘You leave everything to me,’ he said. ‘After lunch, I’m going straight to Frank Nelson’s office. Reed Conway won’t be bothering you again.’

Ella eyed her filet mignon. ‘You have no proof that Reed sent those letters. Without proof, what can Frank do?’

‘First of all, he can have these letters tested for fingerprints other than yours and mine. And in the meantime, he can put the fear of God into that boy. Let him know that we won’t tolerate such behavior from him.’

‘Daddy, Reed’s fingerprints will be on the first letter,’ Ella said reluctantly. Although she didn’t want to explain how Reed’s fingerprints came to be on the letter, she had no choice but to tell her father the truth. She wasn’t going to allow her silence to condemn a possibly innocent man.

‘How do you know his fingerprints are on the first letter?’ Webb asked. He glared at her, his dark eyes narrowing.

‘I confronted Reed with the letter the day I received it.’

‘You what?’

‘Lower your voice. People are staring again.’

‘To hell with people staring!’ Webb dropped his knife and fork onto his plate. The metal clanged against the china. ‘Are you telling me that you—’

‘He swore to me that he didn’t do it – that he didn’t write the letter. And strange as it may sound to you, I think I believe him.’

‘Little girl, you stay away from the likes of Reed Conway. Do you hear me? I thought you had better sense than to go anywhere near him. Don’t you know that he’d like nothing better than to hurt you in order to get to me?’

‘Yes, of course, I’m aware of your past history with him and the fact that he swore revenge against you and—’

‘Promise me that you’ll never go anywhere near him again.’

‘But Daddy—’

‘Dammit, promise me.’

‘I … I promise.’

By now Ella would have received the second letter. No doubt that was the reason she had been seen having lunch with her father at Callahan’s. She had run to her daddy. Ella was so predictable. Using her was almost too easy. Webb’s next stop would be at Frank Nelson’s office.

Laughter filled the room. Self-satisfied laughter. Making Webb miserable was such a pleasure. It was past time that the senator suffered for his sins. And nothing made Webb Porter suffer more than to think his precious daughter was in danger.

Ella wasn’t in any real danger. Not now. Not yet. One did what one had to do to survive, to protect one’s self. And to get a little sweet revenge.

A short walk across the room to the computer on the desk. A few clicks and the screen opened to the word processing program. One more message, similar to the others, and then it would be time to up the ante, raise the stakes, unnerve the senator’s daughter to a greater degree.

‘I want you to go over to where he’s working at his cousin’s garage and warn him to stay away from my family – my daughter in particular.’

Frank Nelson watched Webb Porter, his father’s old friend, as he paced the floor. The man was more agitated than he’d ever seen him. There was a sense of desperation in Webb that Frank didn’t think he’d ever seen. But when it came to Ella, Webb was a typical father. Only he was a father who possessed a great deal of power and influence.

‘I can give him an unofficial warning, but that’s all I can do unless we can come up with some proof that he’s the one harassing Ella,’ Frank explained.

‘Of course he’s the one.’

‘I agree. He probably is, but without proof—’

‘That boy was trouble fifteen years ago and he’s even more trouble now.’ Webb forked his fingers through his silver hair. ‘His mother didn’t deserve the problems he created for her.’

‘Yes, sir, I agree. Judy Conway is a good woman. God knows what she’s gone through over the years.’

Webb cleared his throat. ‘Yes, well, Judy’s almost a member of the family, you know. She’s been with Jeff Henry and Cybil for ages.’

Frank tapped the envelopes lying on his desk. ‘Webb, you leave these letters with me and I’ll drive over to the Conways’ later on today and have a talk with Reed.’

‘Thanks, Frank. I knew I could count on you.’

Judy said her goodbyes to Carolyn Porter and slipped away quietly while Viola lifted the crippled woman into her arms and carried her back to her bed. Judy closed the door behind her. She both pitied and envied Carolyn, as she was sure almost everyone in town did. The poor thing had been an invalid for over thirty years. Judy made a point of not coming to the Porter house unless she had no other choice. There was too much bad blood between their families. But occasionally, like today, Jeff Henry would insist that Judy drop by with some of her homemade bread, since he knew Carolyn loved it so. She had intended to simply leave the bread in the kitchen with Bessie, but the housekeeper had been out shopping and Viola had answered the doorbell’s ring. Carolyn had inquired who their visitor was and then insisted that Judy come up for a visit.

‘I get out rarely,’ Carolyn had said. ‘Especially not in this hot weather. It’s such a delight to have a visitor. Come, sit and chat with me awhile.’

The woman was Webb Porter’s wife, and that very fact made Judy uncomfortable in her presence. But she had stayed twenty minutes. As usual, Carolyn was charming. A true Southern lady. But as usual, Judy felt an underlying tension in Webb’s wife.

The moment Judy started down the back staircase, she met Webb. Her heart leaped to her throat. She had prayed she wouldn’t run into him. What would she say? How should she act?

‘Judy?’

‘Hello, Webb.’

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.

‘Jeff Henry sent me over with some homemade bread for Carolyn. He’s aware that it’s a favorite of hers.’

Webb stopped his ascent. Judy continued down the stairs. When she passed him, he reached out for her, but dropped his hand to his side before actually touching her.

‘I’d like to talk to you,’ he said.

‘I don’t think we have anything to talk about.’

‘Please, give me a few minutes of your time.’

She forced herself to look him squarely in the eye, but regretted the action when he stared at her pleadingly. Don’t let him get to you, she cautioned herself. Webb Porter knows how to charm a lady. But this man is your son’s enemy and don’t you forget it.

‘What do you want to talk to me about?’ she asked.

‘Would you come downstairs with me? We can talk in my study.’

‘We can talk in the kitchen, on my way out,’ she told him.

‘If that’s what you prefer.’

‘It is.’

He followed her down the back stairs and into the kitchen. She paused by the door. ‘What is it?’

‘Ella has received three disturbing phone calls and two obscene, threatening letters since Reed was paroled.’

Judy gasped. ‘Are you saying that you think Reed made those phone calls and sent those letters?’

‘Yes, that’s exactly what I think.’

‘You’re wrong. Dead wrong. Just like you were wrong about him slitting Junior’s throat fifteen years ago.’

‘You’re Reed’s mother. I’d expect you to defend him.’

‘And you’re the man who prosecuted him for murder. I’d expect you to suspect him. But I’m telling you that all Reed wants is a second chance. He’s not going to do anything to mess up his parole.’

‘I hope you’re right. But I think you should caution Reed to stay away from Ella.’

‘Stay away from … Are you saying that Reed’s been bothering Ella?’

‘They made contact and it upset Ella.’

‘What do you mean they made contact?’

‘After she received the first letter, Ella confronted Reed.’

‘Ah, I see.’ Judy tilted her chin and glared at Webb. ‘If you’re so worried about Reed contaminating Ella, then perhaps you should tell your daughter to stay away from my son.’

Judy left hurriedly while Webb Porter stood there, mouth agape. She closed the door quietly behind her, ran from the back porch and down the brick sidewalk. Her head throbbed. Her heart raced. Damn Webb Porter. Damn him to hell and back.

Webb didn’t move for several minutes after Judy Conway’s hasty departure. He hadn’t meant to upset her, but he should have known that it would be useless to ask her to warn Reed to stay away from Ella. Judy had been Reed’s staunchest defender during his trial, and whatever goodwill there had been between Webb and her before then had come to an end when Reed had been convicted of Junior’s murder.

He would never forget the night she came to him, pleading for him to have the police search elsewhere for her dead husband’s killer.

‘Someone else killed Junior,’ she had said. ‘I swear to you that Reed didn’t slit his throat. He beat him to within an inch of his life, yes, but he didn’t come back later while Junior was unconscious and murder him.’

Webb had wanted to help her. More than she would ever know. But how could he, when all the evidence pointed clearly to Reed? Webb had despised Junior Blalock almost as much as Reed had. He’d never understood what Judy had seen in that white trash drunkard. He realized how hard it had been for her trying to raise two children on her own, but marrying Junior had only added to her troubles, not relieved them. Of course, Junior had been a good-looking devil and had possessed a certain amount of crude charm. But he’d been a sleaze – a wife beater and a child molester. Webb cringed at the thought of that slimy bastard touching sweet little Regina. If back then Webb had ever suspected that Junior had tried to rape Regina, he wasn’t sure what he would have done to the man. You would have killed him, a nagging inner voice said.

‘Yes, I would have killed him,’ Webb said aloud.

The intercom buzzer sounded. ‘Webb? If you’re there, dear, would you please come upstairs. I haven’t seen you since breakfast this morning.’

Webb froze to the spot. There had been a time, long ago, when he had loved the sound of Carolyn’s voice: soft, sultry and honey-coated Southern. But that had been a lifetime ago. Now, the sound irritated the hell out of him. There were times when he couldn’t bear even being in the same room as her. She was clinging and whiny and needy, so very needy. He had loved her once, but that, too, had been a lifetime ago. He pitied her. He had stayed married to her out of duty and obligation. Carolyn knew why he stayed, but she didn’t seem to mind why he remained her husband, just as long as she could be, now and forever, Mrs Webb Porter. She claimed to love him and, in her own way, perhaps she did.

They both loved Ella, the one good thing in their lives. But how many times had the truth about Ella’s bloodlines haunted him? How often had he wondered exactly how Carolyn would feel about Ella if she knew the truth about their adopted child? If his wife knew about Ella’s true parentage, would she hate their daughter? But there was no reason for Carolyn to ever know the truth. And no reason for Ella ever to learn about her biological mother and father. Her adoption had been private – handled by the Porters’ family lawyer, Milton Leamon, Webb’s cousin. And thankfully, Ella had never asked any questions about her natural parents.

‘Webb? Webb?’ Carolyn called again and again.

With slumped shoulders, he left the kitchen and headed up the back stairs. When he reached Carolyn’s closed door, he hesitated, then knocked. Viola opened the door. The woman glared at him. She had the look of an army sergeant. Hard as nails, tough through and through. Viola could be unpleasant and aggravating, but she was devoted to Carolyn. He didn’t know what they would have done without the woman these past thirty-one years.

‘Please come in, Mr Porter.’ Viola moved out of his way. ‘Miss Carolyn is quite eager to see you.’

Viola walked past him, leaving him alone with his wife. Carolyn sat propped up in the bed, pillows surrounding her. She was still a lovely woman. He tried his best to be devoted and caring. Occasionally he even shared her bed. But Carolyn’s paralysis kept her from fully enjoying sex, so their intimate moments together lacked any real satisfaction for either of them. If he loved her, it would have been different. But he didn’t love her. He hadn’t loved his wife in over thirty years. If he ever confessed that to anyone, they would assume it was because of her condition. But they would be wrong.

‘Darling, there you are. What kept you so long? Viola heard you speaking to Judy Conway on the stairs. Has Judy gone?’

‘Yes, she’s gone.’

‘Such a sweet woman.’

‘Yes.’

Carolyn patted the bed. ‘Come sit with me.’

Webb crossed the room and perched on the edge of the bed. ‘Have you had a good day?’

‘As good as most. What about you? Did you enjoy your lunch with Ella?’

How could he answer that question honestly without divulging the truth about the harassing letters Ella had received? Telling Carolyn would only upset her. ‘I always enjoy time with our daughter.’

‘We have every reason to be proud of her, don’t we?’

‘Yes, we do. We’ve done a fine job with her. You’ve been a good mother.’

‘Thank you, Webb. It’s nice to know that I’m not a failure at everything.’

‘Carolyn, please …’

‘Yes, of course, no need to ruin a perfectly pleasant visit with an unpleasant subject.’

‘Will you be joining us for dinner tonight?’ Webb asked.

‘Yes, certainly … if you’re going to be home. You haven’t made other plans, have you?’

‘No.’

‘Webb?’

‘Hmm?’

‘What were you and Judy talking about?’

Webb noted the hint of jealousy in Carolyn’s voice. She had been insanely jealous when they’d first married – a trait that had driven him crazy. Back then, she’d had no reason to be jealous. He’d been a faithful husband. She was still a jealous wife, but she controlled the emotion and hid her feelings quite well. He knew she suspected him of infidelity, but it was a taboo subject between them.

‘I asked her about Reed,’ Webb said.

‘Ah, yes, of course. What else would the two of you have to discuss except her son? I assume he still hates you as much as he did when he first went to prison.’

‘Yes, I assume he does.’

‘Let’s hope he doesn’t make good on the threats he made back then.’ Carolyn reached for Webb’s hand. Reluctantly, he accepted her gentle touch. ‘I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. Or to Ella. You and our daughter are my life. You do know that, don’t you?’

‘Yes, Carolyn, I know.’ He leaned over and kissed her soft cheek. ‘You mustn’t worry, dear. I’ll make sure that Reed Conway isn’t a threat to me or to Ella.’

‘What will you do if he …?’

Webb laid his index finger over her parted lips. ‘Hush now. Don’t fret. Just know that I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Reed from disrupting our lives.’

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