He took a moment and gauged his next words. “I don’t understand why you’re coming back now. It’s been...what? Almost nine years?”
“When I heard Asa had had a stroke, I knew this was my last chance to find my child. If he dies, his secret will die with him. I’m not afraid of him anymore, either. I just want the child who was taken from me.”
“May I ask you a question?”
“What?”
“Please don’t take offense, but why was my dad so sure the baby wasn’t Jared’s?”
“Jared said Roland filled Asa’s head with nonsense, like he’d seen me out with this guy or that guy.”
“And that wasn’t true?”
“No. Jared was my only boyfriend, but more than that, he was my friend.”
It would be callous to point out that her father had shot Jared in cold blood. They’d talked enough for today. He had a lot of thinking to do.
“Thank you for your candor, Ms. Brooks. I’ll be in touch.” He got in his vehicle and drove away.
Conflicting thoughts warred inside him. Could his father do something so barbaric?
He returned home, his thoughts directed inward. Aunt Fran was in the kitchen. “Supper’s almost ready,” she called.
“I have to check something in the basement first.”
“We caught that mouse.”
“I’m just checking.” He took the narrow steps two at a time. It was dark now, so he moved slowly when he got to the bottom, reaching for the string. He pulled it and light flooded the basement. Everything was just as she’d described. He walked toward the left side of the room and saw it. A large dark spot—her blood.
Oh, God. A pain shot through him. She wasn’t lying. She’d given birth in this basement. What had his father done with the child?
* * *
JENA PUSHED THE mower to the shed in the back. It was too dark to mow now. Her mind was filled with thoughts of her conversation with Carson. Even as farfetched as her story sounded, she got the feeling he believed her. And, to her dismay, she understood his reluctance to talk to his father.
For years she’d dreamed of revenge, but after a few hours in Willow Creek she was surprised to find her desire for it wasn’t as strong as before. She needed only peace now. Asa Corbett was already in hell—stoking the fire would accomplish nothing. She just wanted information about her child. Carson would get that.
Jared had often said his older brother was the heroic type, the kind who would rescue a kitten from a burning building without any thought to his own safety. He was honest and straightforward. Jena had already sensed those qualities in him. Even though it would hurt his family, he would do the right thing. He’d confront his father.
Jena had to put her trust in Carson, and she found the thought oddly disturbing and uplifting at the same time.
Hilary swerved into the driveway, headlights blinding Jena. Jumping out, Hil said, “Hey, sis, I brought chicken-fried steaks for supper.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had Mabel’s chicken-fried steak.”
“Then you’re in for a treat. I brought chocolate pie with mile-high meringue, too.”
They walked toward the steps, and Hil suddenly stopped. “Didn’t get the yard mowed, huh?”
“Why didn’t you buy a self-propelled mower?”
Hil shrugged. “They cost more, and the guys usually mow, but they’ve been busy. I thought I’d get it done by the time you arrived.”
“I did the back, and, believe me, my muscles will be protesting tomorrow. As I was pushing that blasted thing to the front, the constable drove up.”
“What did Carson want?”
“To ask questions about that night.”
“Is he going to do anything?”
“Yes. I believe he is.”
“Hmm. You sound different than you did this morning. Are you developing a soft spot for the constable?”
“Of course not. Don’t be silly.”
“If you say so. But he’s s-o-o good-looking if you like tall, strong and masculine.”
“Shut up.” She held the door open and Hil laughed, walking inside.
“Hey, Mama, time for supper,” Hil shouted.
Norma clicked off the television. “I wondered where you girls were.”
“She seems fine,” Hil whispered in the kitchen.
“She’s been that way all afternoon.”
“Told you. It comes and goes.”
Hil ran around the kitchen in her cute cowgirl boots like a bunny on steroids, putting the meal on the table and fixing tea.
“How much coffee have you had today?”
“Enough.” Hil made a face.
They sat around the old Formica-and-chrome table and ate. It was reminiscent of better times. Before her dad started drinking heavily. Before Jared. Before...
“It’s nice to have my oldest home,” Norma said. “I was going to bake a cake, but I couldn’t get the stove to work.”
“It’s just temperamental,” Hil replied. “I can make it work, but I brought food and pie. We’re good.”
“Okay.” Norma continued to eat, but Jena noticed a change in her. She became quiet and stared at the refrigerator. Wrapping her arms around her waist, Norma mumbled, “It’s getting chilly. We’ll probably have ice in the morning. I saw on the TV it was snowing somewhere.”
Hil choked on her pie, coughed and took a quick gulp of tea. “What the hell was she watching?” Hil mouthed.
“Wheel of Fortune,” Jena mouthed back.
Hil shrugged. “It’s not that chilly, Mama.”
“I wonder where my flannel gown is.” Their mother stood and meandered to her room.
They cleaned the table and put the containers in plastic bags. “I’ll take the trash to the café in the morning.” Hil tied the top of the bag into a knot.
“What do we do about Mama?” Jena asked.
“I don’t know. I just agree with whatever she says. That seems to work best.”
They went to their mother’s bedroom and found her standing near the bed in a flannel nightgown, looking confused. “Where’s
