For Love of Charley (16 page)

“When?”

Ben folded the notebook and stuck it back
in his pocket. “This afternoon. And in the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you
didn’t say anything to him about this.”

She gave a curt nod. “If you’re done here,
would you mind giving me a ride home?”

“Of course not.”

Cole’s heart stopped in his chest.
“Charley.”

She ignored him. “I’ll just get my things
and be right out.” Back stiff, she vanished into Cole’s bedroom.

“Excuse me.” Without a glance at Ben, Cole
followed her. She had put her bag on his bed and was heading for the closet.

“Charley.” His voice was soft and she
stopped, one hand on the door. “Please don’t do this.”

She dropped her forehead to the door panel,
and a tremor ran through her back. Cole crossed the room and put his hands on
her shoulders. “Please, Charley. I know you have no reason to believe me, but I
told you the truth. If I’d had a choice, I never would have left you.”

Charley spun in his arms and buried her
face against his chest. “I know,” she whispered. “I believe you. I never
stopped loving you, either.”

His arms tightened around her. “Then don’t
go. Stay here with me.” He tilted her face up. “I need you.”

Her chin quivered, but she met his gaze. “I
can’t stay, Cole. Not right now. I need time. Please understand.” One hand
cupped his cheek. “I love you. But I love Uncle Victor, too. He’s the only
family I have. What he did to us was wrong, and it will take me a long time to
forgive him for that. I also know you have no reason to trust him after what
he’s done. But he isn’t trying to kill you. I know him, Cole.”

“And if it turns out I’m right?”

“You aren’t right. But so much has happened
in such a short time. I need a little space right now, time to think. Can you
give it to me?”

Cole slowly lowered his arms and stepped
back. “If that’s what you need.” He hesitated as she turned back to the closet
and pulled her clothes out. “When will I see you again?”

Charley crammed the clothes into her bag
and shut it. Pausing at the door, she turned and looked back. “I don’t know.
I’ll call you. Soon. I promise.” And then she was gone.

Cole listened to the murmur of voices on
the patio, then the sound of feet going down the stairs. He didn’t move until
the motor of Ben’s patrol car started, then died away into the distance.

Charley had left him. The words pounded in
his head, keeping time with his heartbeat.

A scrap of white lying on the bed caught
his attention and he looked down. Charley’s nightgown. Somehow she’d missed it.
He sank onto the side of the bed and picked it up, running the soft material
through his fingers. With every move her scent drifted up to him.

A lump of pain formed in his throat. Had he
waited all this time only to lose her again? Had Victor finally accomplished
his goal? No, he wouldn’t allow himself to believe it.

Carefully, he folded the gown and carried
it to his bureau. When Charley came back, it would be here, waiting on her.
Just as he would be.

“What are you doing here?” Charley looked
up at Frannie from her position on the kitchen floor.

“I think a better question would be, why
are you scrubbing floors when you were released from the hospital last night
with a concussion?”

Charley tossed the scrub brush into the
bucket next to her and stood. “Ben called you, didn’t he?”

Trying to miss the wet spot on the floor,
Frannie pulled out a chair and sat down, leaning her elbows on the table. “Yes,
he did. He was worried about you. And apparently with good reason.”

Charley joined her, sinking heavily onto the
cushioned seat. “You know I always clean when I need to think. And I’m fine.
Not even a headache.” She tucked a strand of sweat-damp hair behind one ear.
“How much did he tell you?”

“Everything.”

“At least that saves me the trouble of
repeating it. I suppose you agree with Cole. He thinks Uncle Victor is capable
of murder.”

“Cole has good reason for thinking that.
Your uncle hasn’t exactly been a sweetheart to him. Want a soda?” Frannie stood
and opened the fridge.

“Sure.”

Frannie put a can in front of her and
popped the top on her own. “Truthfully, I don’t know what to think, so I’ll
just reserve my opinion until all the facts are in.”

“Frannie, I know you and Uncle Victor
aren’t exactly good friends, but he didn’t do it. I know he didn’t.”

“Then who do you think did? Someone sure
did a number on Cole’s car.”

“I know.” Charley touched the bruise on her
forehead absentmindedly. “And I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out
who would do something like that. Or even why. It had to be someone who’s good
with mechanics. Someone who could get in and get it done fast.”

“What have you come up with?”

“Not much. I can only think of two reasons
why someone might want to hurt him. First, because of the changes he’s making
here. And now I know that it’s not the changes Uncle Vic was opposed to, it was
Cole himself. But maybe there are others who aren’t happy about it. I know Sam
Tyree isn’t.”

“Oh, surely you don’t think Sam had
anything to do with this? I know he can be rather…well, blunt. But deep down we
both know Sam is a real sweetie.”

A wrinkle formed between Charley’s eyes and
she shook her head. “No, he’s even less likely to do it than Uncle Vic. But the
point is, there are bound to be others who just haven’t been as vocal about
their opposition to the changes. Maybe they decided to take matters into their
own hands.”

Frannie took a sip of the soda. “I guess
it’s possible, but it doesn’t really feel right. When you think about it, there
are really only three motives for murder. Greed, revenge, and passion. I can’t
see how having someone help you make a lot of money would inspire a need to
kill.”

“That brings me to my second reason,”
Charley agreed. “Cole has made a lot of money in the last ten years. There are
bound to be some toes he’s stepped on during that time. What if someone wants
revenge for something he’s done?”

Frannie blinked. “You know Cole better than
I do. Is he ruthless enough to trample people into the ground for a few
dollars?”

She smiled. “I think he could be ruthless
if the reasons were important enough to him, but I really can’t see him doing
it for money. He’s not the type for corporate takeovers.”

Her cousin nodded. “Okay, that pretty well
rules out greed and revenge. What about passion?”

Charley looked at her thoughtfully.
“Jealousy, maybe? Surely Cole dated other women during the time he was gone.”

“You didn’t date,” Frannie pointed out.

“I know, but that’s different. Cole’s a
man. What if there’s some woman who hates him for leaving her to come back
here?”

“I think you’re grabbing at straws.”

Charley’s shoulders slumped. “You’re right.
I am. But it just doesn’t make sense, Frannie. I know Uncle Victor didn’t do
it.”

Frannie glanced at the clock. “Well, Ben
should be talking to him right about now. Maybe we’ll know something soon.”

Suddenly Charley stood and grabbed her
purse.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to Uncle Victor’s. You know what
a pack rat he is. He never throws anything away. Maybe there’s something there
that will prove he’s innocent.”

Frannie shifted uneasily. “Charley, I’m not
so sure that’s a good idea. I know he’s your uncle, but should you really be
going through his things? And what if you find something that proves he really
is guilty?”

Charley took a long breath. “I won’t. But
if I do, I’ll turn it over to Ben.”

“Then at least let me go with you. I don’t
like this.”

“No, Frannie.” She touched her cousin’s
arm. “He’s my uncle. This is something I have to do on my own.”

“Charley—”

“I’ll be okay, really. Just wait here. It
shouldn’t take long.”

Reluctantly, Frannie nodded. “Okay, but if
you aren’t back in an hour, I’m calling Ben.”

“Make it an hour and a half.” Charley gave
her a half smile and walked out the door.

* * * * *

Charley brought the Blazer to a halt and
sat for a second, just staring at her uncle’s house. The flowers were still a
riot of color and hummingbirds still filled the air with their tiny songs. But
the giant trees scattered around the yard, hundreds of years old, cast their
shadow on the pristine white paint, giving the house a cold, desolate look.

A shiver ran down her spine.
Get a grip,
Charley,
she told herself. It’s the same house it al
ways was.
With a
nervous laugh, she shook off her morbidity, climbed out of the car and started
up the steps.

Just as she reached for the door, it opened
and Charley blinked in surprise at the hulking form blocking her path.
“Douglas? Where’s Lettie?”

“Doing the marketing. Your uncle isn’t home
either.” His voice was completely without intonation.

She forced herself to smile. Douglas had
always had the effect of making her feel uneasy and this time was no different.
“That’s fine. I’ll wait for him in his office.” Her uneasiness increased as he
closed the door behind her and followed her down the hall. Why hadn’t he
mentioned that Uncle Victor was talking to the sheriff? Loyalty to her uncle?

Charley went into Uncle Victor’s office and
stopped. “Don’t feel like you have to entertain me, Douglas. I know you must
have things to do. I’ll just grab a book and read until Uncle Vic gets home.”

His cold glance slid over her, then with a
curt nod, he turned and vanished down the hall. As soon as he was out of sight,
Charley eased the door shut. Where to start. She surveyed the room critically,
her gaze stopping on a painting that hung behind the desk. The safe was
probably her best bet.

The painting pulled out soundlessly on its
hidden hinges, and Charley spun the combination lock on the safe behind it.
When the last tumbler clicked into place, she pushed down on the handle and
tugged the heavy steel door open. The interior was divided into four
compartments, one large space on the left filled with folders, and three
shelves on the right.

She lifted the folders out and carried them
to the desk. The first one contained only papers dealing with City Council
business, and she pushed it to one side. The next one was more personal. It
held the deed to the house and a thick packet bearing the words “Last Will and
Testament.” Hastily, Charley shoved it back in the folder. She didn’t even want
to touch it.

The last of the folders was filled with
insurance policies. Life insurance, medical insurance, insurance on the house,
the cars, even one on her. A large one. She vaguely remembered Uncle Vic
telling her he was taking it out, but it had been so long ago she’d forgotten.

She eased the files back into the safe and
glanced at the shelves. There were several bundles of cash, some jewelry that
had belonged to her grandmother, and not much else. With a sigh of frustration,
she shut the safe, pushed the picture back into place and returned to the desk.

A quick glance at the grandfather clock in
one corner showed her she still had approximately fifty minutes before Frannie
called out the troops. She smiled. Her cousin tended to have a real flair for
dramatics at times.

Methodically, she began going through the
desk drawers, but her search was as fruitless as the safe had been. There was
nothing that you wouldn’t normally expect to find in the desk of a businessman.

Charley closed the last drawer and leaned
back in the chair. The bookshelves? Could he have a secret compartment hidden
in them? She shook her head. She was getting as bad as Frannie.

The thought brought her eyes back to the
clock again. Thirty more minutes. Her gaze moved down the glass front of the
clock, watching the pendulum swing back and forth. The motion was hypnotic and
the ticking seemed twice as loud as normal. With an effort, she forced her eyes
away from the swinging golden disk and down to the decorative panel at the
bottom.

The panel. Suddenly her heart picked up
speed as a blurry memory flashed through her mind. A memory of herself as a
child, bursting through the office door to find Uncle Victor kneeling in front
of the clock.

With a mouth gone dry, Charley stood and
walked to the clock. Dropping to her knees, she ran her hands over the panel,
pushing each decoration, every depression. Nothing happened. She sat back on
her heels and contemplated the rich wood. Every instinct she had was telling
her there was something here.

Leaning over, she ran her hand under the
edge of the trim. Almost out of reach from her questing fingers, she found it.
The tiny lever was in good condition. As soon as she pushed it there was click
and the panel slid open.

Charley stared down at the bundle of
letters and papers, then with a shaky hand reached down and picked them up. A
rubber band held them together, but didn’t block the handwriting on the top
one. She would recognize Cole’s distinctive script anywhere, and it was
addressed to her. They were all here, every letter he’d written her, and none
of them had been opened.

When she removed the rubber band, several
other items fell to the floor. Scooping them up, she went back to the desk and
reached for the phone, dialing her own number. Frannie answered on the first
ring.

“Frannie, it’s me. Listen, this is going to
take a little longer than I thought. I think I may have found something, but
I’m not sure what yet. There was a secret drawer in the bottom of the clock.
Cole’s letters are here, plus a bunch of other stuff. I need time to go through
them.”

She listened to Frannie’s protest and
pleas, her eyes on the bundle in front of her. “No, don’t call Ben. We’ll talk
about it when I get back. I have to go, now.” There was a distinct click as
Frannie hung up, followed almost instantly by another one. Charley frowned at
the phone before dropping it back into the cradle.

Remembering the letter opener she’d seen
earlier, Charley took it out and slid it under the flap of the first letter.
She wouldn’t have time to read them all right now, but she did want to read
this last one. The postmark was dated almost a year to the day after he’d left,
the envelope already turning yellow with age.

With great care, she removed the folded
paper and opened it, her eyes dropping to the first line.

My sweet Charley,

It’s been a year since I had to leave you,
and there hasn’t been a day that I haven’t thought of you, seen your face in my
mind. There hasn’t been a night that I haven’t dreamed of you, of holding you
in my arms, loving you.

Jim has been fantastic. He’s been teaching
me a lot about business and the stock market, things I’ll have to know to start
my own company. It won’t be long now. I’m making more money every day. I only
wish you were here with me.

I’m still living in the coach house on
Jim’s property. It’s not “our” house, but you’d love it, Charley. I can almost
see you, moving from room to room, looking out the leaded glass windows at the
gardens. And sometimes I pretend that you’ll be here waiting for me when I get
home.

This will be the last letter I send, Charley.
Even though I keep hoping, I know deep down that your uncle is keeping them
from you. In a strange way, I can even understand why. You deserve better than
what I could have offered you, my love.

But if by chance you ever do read this,
know I love you, my angel. I’ll never stop. Someday, I’ll come back for you, I
promise. Wait for me, Charley. I love you.

Cole

Charley bit down hard on her bottom lip,
but the tears spilled down her cheeks anyway. It was so unfair. Ten years
wasted that they could have been together, happy, loving each other. They might
even have had a child by now. Instead, she’d spent the time thinking he’d lied
to her, that he’d never loved her. The pain they had both gone through was
staggering. And all because of her uncle.

But Cole had kept his promise. He’d come
back for her. Come back only to have someone try to kill him. The thought of
losing him for good sent a stab of terror through her.

Grabbing a tissue from the box on the desk,
she wiped her eyes then blew her nose. Later she’d call Cole, ask him to come
to her house. And after they’d read the letters together, he would make love to
her, and they would finally begin to heal the old wounds. With a final sniff,
the bundle of letters went into her purse, and she picked up the next item from
the stack.

It was an old black and white picture of a
woman and child. She studied it closely. The woman was a mere wisp of a thing,
blonde and ethereal looking. Her clothing, ragged and threadbare, looked as
though it had seen too many washings. But what caught Charley’s attention was
the haunted look in the woman’s eyes, a look that said she’d been to hell and
wasn’t sure she was back yet.