Authors: Brandilyn Collins
Baxter’s head pulled back as if he’d been struck. “That’s a
lie
.”
“No, Baxter,
you’re
the liar. You walk around Mr. Perfect Christian. Generous King of Vonita. I know who you really are. And so, don’t forget, does God.”
“Joanne,” Steve’s voice rose, “that’s just preposterous. I’ve known Baxter for years. And I knew Linda. Never once did she come to me—”
“Of course not. She was the newcomer. It would be her word against the whole town’s. And she was scared to death of what Baxter would do to her if she told.”
“You have no proof of that!” Baxter’s face crimsoned. He leaned toward me, a vein pulsing in his neck. “And I’m telling you, you’d better stop. I’ll sue you for slander—”
“Wait.” Steve pressed a hand against Baxter’s arm. “Let’s just calm down.”
Baxter straightened, breathing hard. A saw blade wouldn’t have cut through his jaw.
“Joanne.” Steve swallowed. “I don’t know what was on Linda’s mind. But I just can’t believe what she told you was the truth.”
My eyes burned. I loved Steve. He was a good man, a caring pastor. He was just so deceived. “And
that
is exactly why she never came to you.”
Baxter made a growling sound in his throat. Steve flicked a look at him, and he flexed his shoulders, clearly working to get hold of himself. How hard it must have been for him. How he must have wanted to strangle me right then.
Is that how he killed Linda?
“Clearly, coming here has been a mistake.” Baxter’s voice hardened to ice. “Sorry I wasted your time, Steve.”
My pastor cast me a pleading look. My heart squeezed. He didn’t deserve to be in the middle of this. How devastated he and my whole church would be when they learned the truth.
At that thought, a little vial within me broke, spilling over the rage. Did I really want to hurt my church like this? People would be torn up for months. It’s not easy learning you’ve been deceived by someone you deeply trusted. Some may blame it on God, especially the younger folks who hadn’t before experienced betrayal. If one of the church’s strongest Christians turned out to be a sham, how could God be trusted? How could any other Christian be trusted? Their faith could be shaken to the core.
I could stop the search for Melissa right now, somehow manage to apologize to Baxter. Let the church just go on as it always had.
But how could I ever live with my conscience before God?
“I’m sorry too, Steve,” I said. “I never wanted this. Don’t worry about church today—I won’t be there.”
“No, Joa—”
I held up a palm, shook my head. “It’s okay. Really. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. Just…go now. Please? I have work to do here.”
My eyes locked with Baxter’s.
Steve hung back, as if still trying to find a way to fix it. I opened the door. My pastor sent a sad smile my way, then stepped out on the porch.
In the moment Steve’s back turned, Baxter cast a burning look of pure hatred upon me. His lips curled into a snarl. Only Steve’s presence kept him from going for my throat.
Fear shriveled down my spine.
Baxter’s murderous expression melted as he stepped outside. He turned back, puffed with righteous indignation. Amazing, how he could do that. “God will judge what you have done to me.”
I slammed the door behind the men and bolted the lock. Leaned against the wood, listening to their footsteps fade down the sidewalk. Two car doors opened and closed.
My legs went weak. I’d done it now. Crossed a Rubicon with Baxter Jackson. Until Melissa led authorities to Linda’s body, I’d have to watch my back every minute. Even in daylight.
It took me some time to settle down after Steve and Baxter left. I wandered around the house, drinking water to dilute the caffeine in my system, and praying. And worrying. What my pastor must think of me right now. I could only imagine the words Baxter filled his head with on their drive away from my place.
Once I passed Billy Bass and forgot to duck. He flipped into song—and I jumped so hard I hit the opposite wall.
After about twenty minutes my jitters subsided enough to return to what must be done. I found my way back to the computer, perched in my chair. Refocused my thoughts.
Time to call Tony Whistman. Find out if Melissa Harkoff still lived at his address, and if so, was she the right one. The one who could put Baxter Jackson behind bars.
I brought up Tony’s website and honed in on his phone number. Most likely a cell. Realtors needed to be available to potential clients at all times. I jotted the phone number down on the yellow pad on my desk. My mouse clicked to the page on Tony’s site that I’d registered after some delay last night. It was a recently updated page of his current listings. Today he was conducting an open house for the home at 3007 Tradden Lane. The picture showed an off-white stucco with dark blue shutters and a well-kept front yard. The description labeled it as a four bedroom, two-and-a-half bath on a quiet cul-de-sac.
Just the kind of home I found myself in the market to buy.
I picked up the phone and dialed Tony’s number.
Please, God. Let this lead me to her.
“Tony Whistman.” The voice was deeper than I’d expected. A little gruff around the edges.
“Hi, my name is Sarah Blair. I’m interested in looking at the house on 3007 Tradden Lane. Your website lists it as an open house today. Is that still on?”
“Yes, I’m opening it from noon to five. Be happy to have you come down.”
“Great. So you’ll actually be at the house? Not an associate?”
Tony chuckled. “It’s just me around here, trying to hang on and make a living.”
I laughed with him. “I hear you’re a good realtor. I can’t remember where I first heard your name. I think it was some friend of Melissa Harkoff’s.”
Silence. I felt a shift over the line.
Tony grunted. “Well. At least she did something for me.”
Ah, so his relationship with her
was
personal. Which meant this Melissa was likely somewhere around the right age.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“Hey, if it gets you to my open house, I’m happy. You buy the place, I’ll forgive her everything.”
My hope snagged. Sounded like this relationship was over. So where was Melissa now? My mind raced for a way to push Tony further on the phone. But his antennae would surely go up.
“Okay.” I gave another laugh. “Sounds like a deal for everyone. Anyway, I’ll see you at the open house.”
“Good. About what time will you be coming by, Sarah?”
Realtors—ever the salesmen.
“I’m hoping pretty soon after you open up.”
“All right. See you then.”
I clicked off the line and said a silent prayer of thanks to God.
Under “My Pictures” I clicked on the file for 2004 and found the photo of Melissa and Linda. I printed it on three-by-five photo paper, then trimmed it with a sharply bladed cutter to fit in my wallet.
MapQuest gave me directions to 3007 Tradden Lane.
My phone rang. Dineen’s ID. I picked up.
“You sure left early,” she said.
“I had things to do. Sorry to visit and run.”
She laughed. “Did you have to wait long for your electricity?”
“It was on when I got back. A little while later my whole house lit up.”
“Huh?”
“Baxter came to my door.”
“Baxter?”
“And Steve.” I told Dineen the sordid details.
“You think Baxter knows you’re looking for Melissa?” Anxiety tinged her voice.
“I’m not sure it matters. He does know what the article said, and that’s enough.”
“What’re you going to do?”
“I’m going to put the man
away
.”
Just speaking the words coursed fresh determination through my veins. Linda should have stood up for herself when she had the chance. Baxter Jackson was not going to take me down too.
“Joanne, I don’t like this.”
“I’m not liking the fact that you’re my sister right now. I don’t want
you
in danger.”
Silence. I could feel the repercussions sinking into Dineen’s brain.
I stared at Melissa’s picture. Her smile now looked taunting, as if she dared me to believe I’d ever find her.
“How’s Jimmy?” I asked.
“A little better but still feverish. He’s down for the day.”
“Give him a kiss for me. I need to go now. I’ll check in with you later.”
“Joanne. Be careful.”
“You too.”
I clicked off the line and stared again at Melissa, standing next to Linda and smiling.
Why
hadn’t one of them told the world about Baxter’s abuse? What went so wrong in that house that Linda ended up dead?
My eyes flicked to the clock on my office wall. Time to get moving.
I headed for the bathroom to put on some makeup, thoughts turning to my next bluff with Tony. Apparently he was no longer on good terms with Melissa. A point in my favor. He’d be less protective, more likely to complain to a listening ear. Still, I would be treading unstable ground. If Tony clammed up, I’d lose precious time.
As I crossed the threshold to my bedroom, sudden hard rain beat against the roof.
JUNE 2004
Four couples joined Baxter and Linda for their dinner party on Saturday. Melissa helped serve.
They’d invited her to eat with them, but she politely declined. She wasn’t interested in being one of them. She wanted to glide in and out, as invisible and discreet as a server in an upscale restaurant. While she soaked up every word.
In the past few days Melissa had worked everything out in her head. Stay the course. Do what she needed to do to keep in the Jacksons’ good graces. All week she’d been Linda’s right-hand gal, writing down everything the woman rattled off in a long shopping list, going to various stores with her, unpacking all the bags of goods. After the grocery run for five courses, and the wine and flowers and centerpiece, Melissa added up the total in her mind. Over six hundred dollars. Baxter didn’t bat an eye at the cost. In fact, he didn’t even ask. Linda saved all the receipts as tax deductions, since the dinner was “for business purposes.”
Maybe. But the Jacksons sure made it seem like those people were their best friends on earth.
They introduced Melissa to everyone, and she worked hard at remembering their names. Mr. and Mrs. Sanyon were probably in their sixties, both with gray hair and looking very refined. She wore a silk dress that had to be as expensive as the one Linda had on, with a diamond necklace and earrings. “Who are they, what do they do?” Melissa whispered to Linda when they retreated into the kitchen to make drinks. Linda looked absolutely stunning in a fitted red dress and matching heels, her hair up. Melissa had done her best to dress for the occasion too, in black slacks and a slinky black top Linda had bought her the day before.
“He’s a real estate developer.” Linda said no more, meaning Mrs. Sanyon did the same thing Linda did—took care of the house and her man.
Then there was Police Chief Eddington and his wife. Maybe in their late forties. The chief stood tall and porky, with a big nose and deep-set eyes. His wife looked a foot shorter. She was quite a talker. Oh, so chatty and charming. She gave Melissa a hug as if greeting her own granddaughter. “How wonderful to see you, dear. We know how happy you’ve made Baxter and Linda.”
Baxter and Linda
. It hit Melissa that everyone she’d met said their names in that order. Like Linda was an afterthought.
Chief Eddington looked Melissa over with a nod. “Nice to meet you.” But an undertone edged his voice, as if Melissa’s kind wasn’t really good enough for this household.
Had she imagined that?
The chief flicked his eyes at Baxter. “This man treating you right?”
“Yes, sir. I’m very happy here.”
A smile twitched one corner of the chief’s mouth. “Can’t imagine who wouldn’t be, living in this mansion.”
He held Melissa’s gaze for a split-second too long. She turned away, uneasiness worming through her gut. She’d never liked policemen. Had no trust of them. What had they ever done for her? And she’d never forget being questioned by some cop after her mom’s death.
Baxter caught Melissa’s eye. Something in his expression told Melissa he read her thoughts. Defensiveness rose within her. But then Baxter gave her a reassuring smile. Her insides settled.
As the Eddingtons joined the others in the formal living room, Baxter asked them what they wanted to drink. A gin and tonic for the chief, white wine for Mrs. Eddington. “Linda, honey, you stay.” Baxter squeezed his wife’s arm. “I’ll help Melissa get these.”
Surprise flicked across Linda’s face. She covered it with a smile. “Okay.”
With a glance at the chief, Melissa scurried after Baxter.
In the kitchen he reached for one of the glasses already set out on the counter. “I’ll make Wayne’s drink. You can pour the wine.”
“Sure.”
Wayne
. Baxter said the name so easily. Melissa watched from the corner of her eye while he poured the gin with expertise. He looked good tonight in blue slacks and a dress shirt. But then Baxter always managed to appear in charge of every situation. As if the air itself in the house, at church, everywhere swirled around him.
Melissa pulled a white wine bottle out of its ice bucket. “So does Mrs. Eddington do anything? I mean, work?”
“She’s the only wife here tonight who does.” Baxter set down the bottle of gin and reached for tonic water. “Front desk for Dr. Bedrey, a dentist in town.”
“Oh.” Melissa poured wine into a glass until the bottle emptied. She pushed the bottle toward the back of the counter. She faced Baxter as he turned toward her.
One side of his mouth curved. “Wayne can come across sort of hard sometimes. It’s just his way. Doesn’t mean anything.”
Melissa’s lips firmed. Part of her wanted to deny. She never let anybody see her vulnerability. The other half warmed at the thought that Baxter had noticed.
She shrugged. Turned to pick up the wine glass.