Page 30

CHAPTER THIRTY

I t wasn’t even nine a.m. when Aspen drove through Coventry the following morning. Grace had taken her before work to pick up the rental car.

Clouds hung low over the mountains with the promise of snow, but it hadn’t started yet. With any luck at all, Aspen could be packed up and out of town before the first flakes fell.

Her phone rang. She’d neglected to connect it to the rental’s Bluetooth, so she pulled over in the middle of town—right in view of anybody who cared to look. She didn’t care. They could glare at her and gossip about her all they wanted. If Dean happened by, he wouldn’t dare try to hurt her with the whole town as witnesses. Besides, if Garrett had reported back to his uncle that she was leaving town—and she felt confident he had, considering he’d been reporting back to his uncle all along—then Dean had no reason to hurt her now.

She yanked her phone from her pocket and saw Jaslynn’s name. She hadn’t spoken to her best friend since the night she’d pulled into town.

She connected the call, but emotion gathered in her throat and cut off her words.

After a few seconds of silence, Jaslynn asked, “Are you there?”

Aspen cleared her throat. “Yeah. I’m here. Your timing is…timely.”

“Your redundancy is…redundant.”

Aspen smiled. “I miss you.” Her voice pitched high, revealing the despair she’d hoped to hide. The truth, like the emotions, had risen from deep in her heart. She missed her best friend. She missed her father. She missed feeling loved and cherished. She’d thought, maybe, with Garrett… But what they’d had was an illusion.

“Oh, honey,” Jaslynn said. “I miss you too. What happened?”

“I’m going home. I can’t stay here anymore.”

“Because of the guy who ran you off the road?”

Aspen had texted her friend a little bit about that night and asked her to pray. She hadn’t told her she believed the driver had been trying to kill her, though. No sense worrying her. By the tone of Jazz’s voice, she was worried enough without all the information.

Aspen said, “That and I found out… It seems Garrett’s been passing information about me to his uncle.”

“Garrett, the hunky contractor?”

“I never called him hunky.”

“I read between the lines. Are you sure?”

“I overheard them talking. He denied it, but, really, what’s he supposed to say? He’s not going to admit to getting close to me just to spy on me, to kissing me?—”

“He kissed you?”

“It didn’t mean anything.”

Not to him, anyway.

“What a jerk. He was just using you to get information?”

“Yup.”

Garrett had known she’d be at Tabby’s Monday night. For all Aspen knew, he’d told Dean, and Dean had broken into her house.

It all made sense now. Of course it’d been Dean. Garrett had told him Aspen wouldn’t be home.

The realization felt like a fresh betrayal.

“Why did he do it?” Jaslynn asked. “I thought you two were hitting it off.”

“I guess that was all an act.” But it had felt so real.

“Are you going straight to Florida, then? Have you talked to your grandparents?”

“No. I’m just going home. Last night, I called the landlord at our old building, and he has a one-bedroom available.” There was something to be said for a five-hour time difference. It’d been late in New Hampshire, but it’d still been business hours in Kona.

“Don’t do that,” Jazz said. “Don’t give up everything because this one thing didn’t work out. I’m sure your grandparents would love having you nearby.”

“Why are you sure of that?” Aspen hadn’t intended the sharp tone. She tempered it when she spoke again. “They hated my mother. People who hated my mother don’t like me. It’s that simple.”

“That’s not true. They’re your grandparents.”

“You know how many times they came to visit when I was a kid? Three. Three times they made the trip.”

“It’s not exactly cheap to fly to?—”

“I haven’t talked to them since the funeral.”

“Have you called them?”

She hadn’t. She should have, but...

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t have family left, at least not any that want me around.”

Outside the rented sedan, people hurried by. On the opposite side of the street, a woman chatted with a man in a suit. A mom ushered three little kids up the steps into the library. Outside the door to The Patriot, two groups of people met each other and stood and hugged and talked.

The world went on around Aspen, these people, this town that hated her. Good people who saw ugliness in her. And why not? Her mother had murdered an innocent woman. If Aspen’s guess was correct and they found her mother’s body buried near the house, then her father had killed her.

No. She couldn’t believe that. She wouldn’t. Even if it was true.

“You have me,” Jaslynn said. “We might not be sisters by blood, but we’re sisters in every other way.”

“I thank God for you.” If not for Jazz, Aspen would have nobody.

“What will you do?”

Aspen shrugged, not that her friend could see. “I texted Gene.”

“The guy who bought the restaurants?”

“I’m hoping he’ll have a job for me.”

“But you hated working there, even more after your dad passed.”

But it was familiar. Easy. Nobody would reject her or hate her at the restaurant. She might not like the job, but she was competent and respected. The longtime servers would be friendly to her.

Maybe that was the most she could ask for out of life.

“I’ll take online classes.” Though at the moment, the thought of it exhausted her. “I’ll figure something out. Right now, I just want to get out of New Hampshire.” And never look back.

“I wish I could be there with you.”

Aspen wished that too. She wished so many things that could never be. She needed a friend. She liked Grace and Tabby and the other women she’d met in Coventry, but they were Garrett’s friends first. They’d choose him.

Aspen didn’t have a soul in the world who would always choose her.

Before Aspen pulled away from the curb, a text came in. It was from Garrett.

I’m outside Grace’s condo, and I’m not leaving until you talk to me.

She responded, I hope you’re dressed warmly.

We need to talk. I wasn’t spying on you. I didn’t tell my uncle anything.

He’d already admitted to having passed on information about her, so that was a lie.

She’d shifted into drive when another text came in.

I care about you. Please can we talk?

She ignored him, flipping on her blinker to pull away from the curb. But a line of traffic was coming through the light behind her.

Her phone dinged again. I can wait here all day. You have to come out sometime.

She sighed. She was angry with him, but she didn’t want him to waste his time or freeze his toes off. Go home, Garrett. I’m not there. I’ll leave your handgun and a key to the house with Grace before I leave so you can get your tools.

Come on, traffic. Where were all these cars coming from? Probably people hurrying to get their errands done before the snow started. Would they worry in New Hampshire, though? Maybe a snowstorm was just another day at the office for these weird people.

Where are you? Garrett texted.

It was none of his business where she was or what she was doing.

Finally, she merged into traffic and continued to Rattlesnake Road.

She was just passing the condominium complex when her phone rang. Probably Garrett. She glanced at the number. It was Mr. Barnett calling her back from the nursing home.

She doubted he’d have any helpful information, but she’d still like to talk to him to confirm. Somehow, Dad had known about the house. Maybe he’d chosen it randomly. Maybe he’d known work was being done there.

A fresh thought occurred to her. Maybe the Barnetts had been having landscaping work done. Freshly turned dirt wouldn’t be out of place if that were the case. Was Jane Kincaid buried under one of the many trees in the yard?

The thought made Aspen ill.

In any event, when Cote got the ground-penetrating radar, if Aspen’s mother was buried there, he’d find her.

Aspen let the call go to voicemail. This high up the mountain, it would drop anyway.

She made the long, winding drive up to her house, growing more unsettled the higher she climbed. Those clouds overhead looked ominous. She needed to get her things and get off the mountain before snow started falling. She considered all the items she’d purchased to make the house livable. Should she try to box everything up and have it shipped?

Right. The cost to get it all to Hawaii would be higher than the value. Instead, she’d contact Trudy at the thrift store, ask her to coordinate with Garrett to pick up everything Aspen left behind and donate it to the poor. She could trust Trudy with that job, and the woman’s son had that truck.

There might be a few things she’d like to take with her. She’d go through everything, toss what she wanted to keep in the rental car, and box it up when she got to Manchester. That was her destination tonight. She’d find a hotel. Tomorrow, she’d get a flight home.

The house was quiet when she walked inside. Everything was in order, nothing out of place. Nobody’d been there. Maybe she would have been safe staying there the previous two nights. She didn’t mind that she hadn’t, though. She’d felt more comfortable in Grace’s little extra bedroom after fifteen minutes than she’d felt in this giant, secluded place after a week.

She started to head up the stairs, then remembered the call she’d gotten and veered toward the kitchen, where the cordless phone was charging on its cradle. Reading the number from her cell, she dialed the Barnetts’ room at the nursing home.

Mr. Barnett answered.

“It’s Aspen Kincaid,” she said. After asking after him and his wife—they’d been gone the day before because of a doctor’s appointment—she got to the point. “I wanted to ask you a question about the remodeling work you had done on your house thirty years ago.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Did you have any landscaping done?”

“In March? Heck, no. They get freezes that far north well into April.”

So much for that theory. “You didn’t have any concrete poured, did you?”

“Well, now, as a matter of fact, we did. That was the year we had the detached garage built. We had a boat, and we were sick of paying to store it elsewhere in the winter.”

Aspen’s heart sank to her knees. She pulled a chair close and sat.

They’d had concrete poured.

Dad had worked for a concrete contractor.

And he’d met Jane right up the street the night of the bombing.

It confirmed her greatest fears. She’d thought she was prepared for it, but…

But how did anybody prepare to learn that her father’d murdered her mother?

The man she’d loved more than anybody in the world. The man who’d loved her, who’d taught her to ride a bike and tie her shoes, who’d taught her about Jesus.

A murderer.

“Does that help you?” Mr. Barnett asked.

She cleared her throat of the emotion trying to clog it. “Yes. Very much. Thank you.” She hung up before he could ask anything else. She couldn’t be polite now. She couldn’t be anything but heartbroken.

The whole world shifted with the truth of it. Who was Aspen? The daughter of a murderer. The daughter of two murderers.

Thank God He didn’t make children pay for their parents’ sins. But there were still consequences, and those consequences had most certainly made their way into Aspen’s life. Of course she was alone. Considering who her parents had been, did she deserve better?

In her bedroom, Aspen packed her things. What she’d purchased at the mall a few days before was in the trunk of her car. Maybe they’d fit in the suitcase, except why would she need flannel pajamas in Kona? Wool socks? The knit cap?

She wouldn’t. She’d bring those things inside to leave for Trudy. Aspen didn’t want any reminders of New Hampshire once she was gone. She wished she’d never come to this godforsaken place.

Except it wasn’t that. Most of the people Aspen had met were believers. God was very much here.

Maybe He’d just forsaken her.

No. She couldn’t think that way. If she walked away from God, she’d have nobody. She couldn’t face that kind of life.

It was strange the way everything fit into the suitcase she’d brought from Hawaii. All she’d picked up in New Hampshire—not the stuff but the information, the people, the experiences… They didn’t take up any space in the bag.

Too much space in her heart.

She dragged the luggage behind her down the stairs, letting the heavy bag bounce on every step. What did she care about the contents? About the floors? None of it mattered.

In the living room, she added one of the throw blankets she’d purchased to her suitcase. She shoved in as many of the kitchen utensils as would fit. She’d sold almost everything she and Dad had owned, so she’d be starting from scratch when she got to Hawaii. Going back had never been her plan.

When she was finished, she dragged the suitcase out the door and along the walkway, remembering the first moment she’d seen this place. Garrett had been shoveling the walk so she wouldn’t have to trudge through the snow to her front door.

He’d seemed so kind.

Had it really all been a lie?

Maybe. Maybe not, if his texts were any indication. But even if he had grown to care for her, how could anything come of it when his uncle hated her enough to try to kill her? When her very presence threatened the man’s freedom. Garrett’s feelings for her, if they existed at all, didn’t matter.

Her feelings for Garrett didn’t matter either.

Jane and Michael Kincaid’s decisions thirty years before had ended two lives. They had shifted the lives of a lot of people. Their decisions were still affecting people now. And there was nothing Aspen could do about that.

She understood why Dad had relocated as far away from here as possible. She wished she’d never come.

After hefting her suitcase into the trunk, she dug through the shopping bags she’d tossed in earlier and pulled out the socks and pajamas and hat. She opened the suitcase one more time to shove in the things she wanted to keep, leaving those destined for the thrift store in the shopping bag. It was a small trunk and not easy to maneuver, and she was so intent on the task and the thoughts bombarding her that she didn’t hear the sound of an engine until it was right behind her.

She turned in time to see a pickup truck park. Not Garrett’s.

Dean Finley climbed out.

Aspen bolted for the front door, expecting to hear footsteps right behind her.

She didn’t, though.

“Wait!”

She heard his voice, but it was farther away than she would have expected. He wasn’t following her. He wasn’t chasing her.

Still, she didn’t stop until she’d climbed the three steps of her front stoop and opened the storm door. She turned, keeping the glass door propped open so she could step in the house and slam the door.

Dean had moved to the walkway but stopped where it intersected with the drive. He lifted both hands in the universal sign of surrender.

She pulled the handgun from the holster at her waist, disengaging the safety as she did.

She didn’t aim it, but she held onto it, just in case. He needed to know she wasn’t helpless.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Dean said.

“Why are you here?”

His hands lowered a little. “Do you mind if I just…?” He dropped them to his sides. “If I keep them like this…?”

“It’s fine.” The initial burst of adrenaline and fear were already draining. Nothing about the man looked threatening. Even the anger he’d aimed her way the night before seemed to have dissipated. But Aspen wasn’t stupid. Somebody had tried to kill her. “Just…stay there, and we’ll be good.”

He leaned against the front of her car. “Garrett tells me you’re leaving town.”

“Which is what you wanted, right?”

“Do you know why?”

“Because you built the bomb. Because you’re afraid the truth will come out.” She threw the words out there in full confidence. It seemed true. Cote thought it was true. She expected Dean to respond with shock and outrage, or even amusement at her foolishness.

Instead, he seemed to sag, shoulders hunching, head dropping forward.

“It’s true, right?”

Very slowly, he looked up. And nodded.

That he didn’t deny it both thrilled and terrified her. She was getting to the bottom of the mystery—that one, anyway. But why would he tell her the truth? After so many years, why confide in Aspen?

She felt the heaviness of the gun in her hand. She wasn’t defenseless. If he came after her…

Please, God. I don’t want to hurt anybody. And I don’t want to get hurt.

But she couldn’t figure out how this could end without one or both of those happening.

“My presence here stirred everything up,” Aspen said. “Cote started looking at the case again. People started talking about the bombing again. It probably took a long time for everybody to forget your part in it.”

“Most never knew.” Dean looked past Aspen, then up into the darkening clouds. A long moment passed before he faced her again. “They knew your mom and I were friends, but they blamed her for the bombing. Everybody blamed her and her alone. Cote and his partner knew, of course. But they couldn’t prove it. I never understood why they didn’t go public with that information. At least about me.”

“Why would he go public about you and not Brent?”

“Brent was the rich kid. Aside from the Hamiltons, Brent’s family was the richest in town. Still are. Brent’s mother was the county prosecutor back then. His father was a successful lawyer. He’d been the mayor a few years before. He wielded a lot of power in Coventry. I could understand why the cops didn’t want to name him without proof.”

She’d known the Salcitos were wealthy. How else could they have afforded to keep an apartment in Boston? But she hadn’t realized they were that influential.

“My family’d been in town a long time,” Dean said, “but my folks didn’t have any connections. Both my parents worked at Hamilton. And anyway, if they’d known, they’d have turned me in.”

She heard the house phone ringing. Not very many people had that number—Garrett, Jaslynn, Cote. Whoever it was, hopefully they’d call back. “My understanding is that Cote’s partner was happy to cross you off the list of suspects. He thought you were a good kid.”

Dean’s smile was sad. “I had been, before.”

She felt sorry for him. She felt sorry for everybody who suffered because of her mother’s scheme.

“I’d never even told Deborah,” Dean said. “All these years, she never knew.”

What a secret to keep from the woman you loved. How had he managed it?

How had Dad managed to keep his secrets for so long?

“The three of us planned it—Jane, Brent, and me. I built the bomb. I was on campus that night. I knew when Jane and Brent were gonna set it off. But we had all decided that, if the building wasn’t empty, we’d come back another time.”

“So what happened?” Aspen asked. “The woman’s car was in the lot, so what?—?”

“I don’t know.” The words were filled with defeat.

“How do you not know? You were in on it. What did Brent tell you?”

“We never talked about it, not once after it happened. At first, it was because we didn’t want people to suspect us. We just stayed apart, hoping everybody would forget. I was afraid his part in the bombing would be discovered. I assume he was afraid mine would be. Weeks went by. Months. I never went back to college. He finished the semester and transferred.”

“But it’s been years. You live in the same town. Have you really never?—?”

“Brent was my closest friend. We’d been friends since preschool. But we haven’t had a single conversation, in public or in private, since that bomb exploded. So I don’t know what happened. I have no idea, and I never wanted to know. I just wanted to forget I’d ever met your mother.” He sucked in a breath, then blew it out and sucked in another.

“Are you all right?”

He pressed his hands against his chest, seemed to struggle to breathe.

He was having one of the episodes Garrett had told her about. She shoved the gun back in its holster and rushed down the walk to where he stood. “What can I do?”

But he couldn’t seem to catch his breath, or to talk.

“Come on.” She wrapped her arm around his back. Together, they made it up the steps and into her house.

Maybe this was all an act. Maybe he would turn on her as soon as they got inside. She was armed, but could she kill this man, Garrett’s uncle?

Was she enough like her parents to take a life?

She didn’t think so. But had they considered themselves capable of murder before they’d done it?

It was a risk she’d take—her life and Dean’s felt like they hung on some invisible scale. She was younger. She was innocent of murder. But her life wasn’t more valuable than his, and she wasn’t about to leave him outside in the freezing cold to have a heart attack and die alone.

She helped him to the sectional, and he collapsed into it, still struggling. She crouched in front of him. “Do you have medicine? What can I do?”

“It’ll pass. Just…” He sucked in air, blew it out. Did it again. After a few minutes, he seemed to calm, though his face was beet red and his hand shook.

It hadn’t been an act. This man was very sick. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’m okay. Just…” He rested against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes.

She sat on the other section of the sofa and waited. After a few moments had passed, after his color returned to normal, he opened his eyes and met her gaze.

“Sorry about that. They come on suddenly, when I get upset. I should really take the medication they gave me.”

“I’m sure Deborah and Garrett would appreciate that.”

His lips turned up at the corners as if he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite make it happen. “There are a couple of things I want to tell you.”

“Aside from your confession?”

“Yeah. Aside from that.” His almost-smile faded. He tried to sit up higher on the sofa but couldn’t seem to make it happen.

Should she help him? Now that the episode had passed, she didn’t want to get that close.

He finally settled again. “I was really selfish. Asking Garrett to spy for me—that was unconscionable. He feels like he owes me. He doesn’t. He’s brought us so much joy. Deborah wasn’t able to have children, and I was against adopting. I didn’t figure I deserved to have kids. More than that, I didn’t want anybody looking into my past. When my sister, Garrett’s mom, asked if we’d take him in, I agreed because I felt like maybe I could earn forgiveness. Maybe if I did some good, it might counteract some of the bad. I knew the Lord, but it took me a long time to understand that God had saved me by grace, that there was nothing I could do to make up for the bad or be good enough for Him.

“But I fell in love with Garrett. Deb and I both did. He doesn’t owe us anything. Anything. He’s been…” Dean’s eyes reddened around the edges, and he lowered his gaze.

Aspen looked away to give him a moment to pull himself together.

“He didn’t want to do it,” Dean said. “Spy on you. At first, he said he would. But then he came back after this place was broken into. He all but accused me of doing it.”

“Did you?” she asked.

He met her eyes and held them. “No. I didn’t break in, and I didn’t try to run you off the road the other night.”

He’d confessed to building a bomb that killed a woman. Why would he lie about that?

But if it wasn’t Dean, then who?

Before she could vocalize the question, Dean continued. “Garrett told me you didn’t know where your mother was, that you were in town looking for answers. And he never told me anything else about you. Not a word. Except that he was coming to care for you.”

She closed her eyes against the emotion building there. Garrett did care for her. It hadn’t all been an act. It hadn’t been a ploy to get information.

Garrett had told her the truth.

It didn’t change anything. She still had to leave. Knowing what she believed her father had done, how could she stay? But it helped to know.

“Last night,” Dean said, “I realized… Deborah helped me realize how selfish I was being by giving Garrett that ultimatum.”

“What ultimatum?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“I overheard that you’d asked him to spy on me, and I left. After that, I didn’t give him the opportunity.”

Dean leaned forward. “I told him I would cut him out of my life if he kept spending time with you. It was unbelievably selfish. I was letting my fear rule me. I just wanted you gone from our lives, gone from Coventry.”

Aspen couldn’t think of a response, though the honesty that roughened his voice clawed at her heart. Everybody wanted her gone.

But Dean wasn’t finished. “Garrett chose you. When I told Deborah, she was furious. Sleeping on a crappy sofa in my workshop last night, I realized… Here I’ve gotten away with murder for thirty years, and I was going to ruin my son’s life just to keep getting away with it.”

Garrett wasn’t his son by blood any more than Jaslynn was Aspen’s sister by blood, but the relationships were just as strong.

“So that’s why I’m here,” Dean said. “To tell you the truth, to apologize. To tell you I was wrong about you. You’re not your mother. You look like her, you’re kind like her, but you’re not her. And if you have half the feelings for my nephew that he has for you, then you have my blessing.”

His blessing? What was she supposed to do with that? “You’ve just confessed murder to me, Dean. Am I supposed to forget?”

“I told Deborah this morning. My dad passed a couple years ago, but I’ll have to tell my mom. It’ll break her heart, but… I’m gonna tell Cote right after I leave here. It’s time I pay for my sins. I’m sick, and I feel about a million years old. Who knows? Maybe they’ll go easy on me. I figure I’ll end up in prison. But I’ve had thirty years of a life I wasn’t entitled to. Thirty years with the woman I love, twenty raising a young man whose respect I earned but never deserved. I’ve had a good life. If it ends in prison?” He shrugged. “Maybe I can do some good there.”

“What about Brent?”

His expression darkened. “He’s gonna have to pay for his crimes too. He’ll hate me. He’d probably try to stop me if he knew what I was up to. But it’s time we both face what we did.”

She scooted closer to Dean and took his hand. “I’m sorry that woman died. I know it wasn’t your plan.”

His eyes filled with tears, but this time he didn’t turn away or try to hide them. “I knew her. Everybody knew everybody in town back then. She was a sweet lady who’d been dealt a hard hand when she married that husband of hers. She was kind and…” His words were choked off by a sob. “I never meant for anybody to get hurt.”

Aspen squeezed his hand. “I know that. I know.”

“And your mother.” He squeezed Aspen’s hand. “I cared for her. I wish I knew what happened to her. I’m sure it’s torture not knowing.”

“I’m pretty sure I know where she is. I’ll probably never really know what happened, but at least I can lay her to rest. I need to talk to Cote. I think he’ll be able to confirm it. I’m just glad to know that you didn’t hurt her.”

“I never would have.” He sniffed the tears away. The sniff turned into a cough, which turned into a coughing fit.

“I’ll get you some water.” She hurried through the door and around the corner into her kitchen and filled a glass with ice from the dispenser, all the information Dean had given her clamoring for attention in her mind. He’d confessed. He’d tell Cote everything,

Poor Garrett would be heartbroken.

But his feelings for Aspen were real.

Another thought urged its way forward. If Dean hadn’t tried to kill her, then who had?

Brent Salcito. He was the only other option, except he’d been out of town. They’d confirmed his alibi. But who else could it have been?

Filling the glass with water, she considered her next move. Once Dean told Cote, both Dean and Brent would be arrested. And then she’d be safe.

Maybe she wouldn’t have to leave Coventry. Maybe she wouldn’t have to leave Garrett.

The thought had her smiling for the first time all day. She was turning to take the water to the living room when a shadow crossed over her.

She barely registered the form of a man before something smashed into the back of her head.

The water slipped from her grip. The glass fell and shattered on the floor.

She reached for the counter to keep from falling but missed. She collapsed in a pool of water and ice and glass.

The man was on top of her. She would have screamed if she could’ve found her voice, but it must have shattered with the glass.

A hand groped her midsection. She tried to push him away, but she felt weak and disoriented. She could hardly see through the pain in her head.

The man stepped away almost as fast as he’d come. Only then did she realize what he’d been doing.

He’d taken the gun.

She was unarmed and injured.

She scrambled on hands and knees across the kitchen floor, but once she bumped into the cabinets, there was nowhere to go. She turned and looked up at the man who’d attacked her.

Brent Salcito aimed the pistol at her chest.