Chapter 35

Melender rolled onto her stomach in bed. Three hours after she’d clocked out at work, she still couldn’t fall asleep despite being physically tired. She’d done her shift last night by rote.

The voices on the recording kept playing over and over in her mind. The fear in Jared’s voice. Jillian’s high-pitched singsong as she entertained Jesse with a game of peek-a-boo. The snuffles and cries of her littlest cousin. She hugged a throw pillow to her chest. She thought the truth would ease the ache in her heart but instead, it had increased it.

During her incarceration, a dozen different scenarios as to what had actually happened to Jesse, mostly involving a kidnapping gone wrong, came to mind. But she’d never considered that Jillian accidentally smothered her younger brother and her father had spirited the body away rather than let his daughter discover what she’d done. Melender figured Quentin had allowed her arrest because of his love for Ruby and his children.

On her back, she stared at the ceiling. If she were being honest, it wasn’t only the recording that kept her tossing and turning. Thoughts of Brogan also vied for her attention.

Brogan’s disappointment remained baffling. Maybe he’d been upset because her decision to protect Jillian from finding out the truth had hampered his ability to report the entire story. After all, he had been upfront about his interest in the story and the potential it had of catapulting his career back into national prominence.

As she recalled the kiss with Brogan, her body warmed. Love. The one word Melender hadn’t successfully guarded against when it came to Brogan had allowed Cupid to aim his arrow directly at her heart.

She’d asked Sudie about love once after her grandmother had related one of her stories about star-crossed lovers. Her grandmother smiled as she rocked in a wooden chair, her hands busily knitting a baby blanket for a young family in the hollow. Sudie’s words now replayed in her mind.

“Child, sometimes, people do fall in love at the drop of an acorn.” Her hands stilled in her lap as a faraway look came into her eyes. “The summer I turned twenty, I met my future husband at a barn raising. Even in patched overalls and scuffed work boots, Trilby Harman caught my eye. My, how that man could swing a hammer.” Sudie smiled, her faded blue eyes twinkling with the memory.

“Trilby was too shy to ask me to take a spin during the dance that evening, so I grabbed his hand and pulled him out on the floor. We were married three months later, and I never regretted a moment of our life together. We had fifty years of wedded bliss before the Lord saw fit to call Trilby home.”

Sudie resumed knitting and rocking, her eyes on fifteen-year-old Melender. “You’re coming of an age to think about young men.” Then her grandmother had pointed her knitting needle at her. “Find a young man who loves the Lord more than he loves you, and you won’t go wrong.”

Oh, Sudie. If only I’d had more time to glean additional wisdom from you before you joined Grandfather Trilby in heaven. Melender blinked back tears as a wave of homesickness crashed over her.

Maybe returning to the little log cabin tucked into the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains would banish unrealistic thoughts of a relationship with Brogan. Surely there were still people there who would remember her. She didn’t need much and could easily leave behind the trappings of the modern life to forge a living on the mountain. No one there would care about her recent past, only that she had once belonged to the mountains. That was her true heritage, and she would be welcomed back when she chose to reclaim it.

A gentle smile curled the corners of her lips as the words of the nineteenth-century naturalist and preservationist John Muir summed up her desire. The mountains are calling, and I must go.

Melender tossed back the covers. She pulled on a pair of denim shorts and a t-shirt, then loosely braided her hair. After slipping on a pair of tennis shoes, she sat on the edge of the bed and brought up Jillian’s number on the phone. Maybe Jillian would know what happened to the rest of Melender’s things, including the keys to Sudie’s cabin. Before she could talk herself out of it, she hit the call button.

“Hello?” Jillian answered after the first ring.

“Jilly, it’s Melender.” She would be careful not to say anything about knowing what happened the night Jesse disappeared or Jillian’s role in his death. She would tell Jillian she wanted to go home but wouldn’t offer an explanation.

“Why are you calling?” Jillian’s voice held a cautious tone.

“I just have a quick question. Do you know what happened to the rest of my things from the house? I’m specifically looking for the keys to Sudie’s cabin.”

“Is that all?” Jillian blew out a breath. “This isn’t a good time.”

“Can I call you later?”

“That might be best.” In the background, Melender heard a muffled voice, to which Jillian responded, “Mom, I got this.”

Ruby. No wonder Jillian didn’t want to talk.

“Mom wants to talk to you.” Jillian gave Melender only seconds before Ruby came on the line.

“You have some nerve calling my daughter,” Ruby hissed.

Melender gathered her wits. “Actually, you probably know the answer to my question.”

A short pause, then her aunt said, “What could you possible want to ask me?”

“What happened to the keys to Sudie’s cabin?” Melender wasn’t holding her breath her aunt would even answer her.

“The prodigal daughter wants to go home?” The sarcasm in her aunt’s voice sliced into Melender like a scythe, but she ignored the pain.

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, you can’t.”

Melender sucked in a breath. “You don’t have the keys?” She reeled in her impatience. If needed, it would be a small bother to have a locksmith rekey the doors and the benefits far outweighed any inconvenience.

“That’s right,” Ruby said. “Forget about that place.”

Melender’s stomach clenched. No. Please, God, no. “What did you do?” The words came out in a whisper.

“I sold the cabin.” Ruby’s malicious satisfaction barely registered as the content hit Melender hard.

“You had no right to sell my inheritance.”

“So the kitten does have claws.” Ruby clicked her tongue. “I had every right. Sudie didn’t leave a will, and as her closest living relative, I was named her heir.”

“What?” Melender put a hand to her head. “She told me she was leaving the cabin to me.”

“She might have told you that, but she never made the time to write a will.” The smugness came through loud and clear. “That means the state had to determine her heirs, and a granddaughter trumps an underage great-granddaughter. I suppose the state thought I would share the proceeds with you, but you killed Jesse, so that was out of the question.”

Melender tried not to cry out in pain and frustration.

“One more thing.” Ruby spat out the last few words. “Stop calling my daughter. There’s nothing here for you anymore.” She disconnected the call.

Melender let the phone slide from her hand onto the bed. The thought of returning to that cabin had been a comfort during the long nights in prison. Now she truly had no place to call home. She kicked off her shoes, then fell back onto the mattress. Curled in a fetal position, she stayed dry-eyed as inside, her heart was breaking.

* * *

Instead of headingto the office this morning, Brogan stopped by his aunt and uncle’s to read more of the Thompson case file in the hopes of finding more inconsistencies that could help to build a stronger case for Melender’s innocence. His phone rang beside him on the dining room table. A glance at the screen revealed the call to be from an unknown party.

“Gilmore.” Brogan answered with his standard greeting.

The caller whispered something he couldn’t decipher. “I didn’t catch that.”

“It’s Dan.” The man cleared his throat. “Dan Stabe.”

Brogan straightened in his chair. “Mr. Stabe, what can I do for you?”

“I think someone’s following me.” The lawyer spoke an undertone.

Brogan depressed the record button, then pressed the device back to his ear. “Where are you?” He tugged his notebook out from underneath a file and picked up a pen.

“I should have known this was a trap.”

“Mr. Stabe—”

“Listen carefully. I don’t have much time. I left a package for you at the front desk of my law office. You must leave immediately to get it. Do you understand? Time is of the essence. If they figure out I’ve called you…”

“Mr. Stabe.”

Although Stabe’s s voice trailed off, fear behind the attorney’s words motivated Brogan to get moving.

“I’m heading there now. Tell me, what was a trap?”

“Tell Melender I’m sorry. I’m a weak man.”

“Mr. Stabe, I want to know where you are.” Brogan halted. He pressed the phone more firmly against his ear. “Hello?” Awareness set in at the sound of silence. The call ended. He stopped the recording while contemplating what to do next.

“Was that Dan Stabe?”

Brogan whipped toward the woman’s voice. Melender stood on the landing of the stairs, her phone and earbuds in her hand.

“Yeah, he called me.” Given Melender’s casual attire of denim shorts, t-shirt, and sneakers, his first thought was to ask why she was awake. “Don’t you have to work tonight?”

“My question first. Why is Stabe calling you?” Melender took the last step and stood inches from Brogan. She’d removed the bandage on her face. The stitches now rested in a purplish bruise that covered the right cheek.

“Brogan, will you please answer me?”

The sharpness of her tone yanked him back. “Stabe said he thought someone was following him. He also said he’d left a package for me at his law office. That’s where I was headed when the call abruptly ended. My turn. Aren’t you working tonight?”

“Yes, but I couldn’t sleep, so I’m up earlier. I’m coming with you to pick up the package.” Melender’s statement startled him given her declaration last night of wanting to let sleeping dogs lie.

He hesitated, then pulled open the front door and held it for her to proceed. “After you.”

“Thank you.”

Brogan didn’t attempt conversation on the drive to the attorney’s office. Instead, he vacillated between wanting to convince her that finding the truth about Jesse still mattered and telling her how beautiful she looked, which could make him appear unprofessional under the circumstances.

Melender huddled against the passenger car door. Although her stillness concerned him, he wasn’t quite sure how to broach the subject. During the fifteen-minute drive to Stabe’s office, she kept her head turned toward the side window but clearly wasn’t taking in the scenery. Something had made her skittish, something beyond the recording yesterday.

He pulled into the parking lot of Davis, Ramsey, and Stevens, and slipped into a visitor’s spot near the front entrance. “I’m not sure what’s going on. You stay put. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Melender nodded but didn’t turn toward him.

Brogan jogged to the office building. Once inside, he punched the elevator number and took the car to the eleventh floor. The receptionist looked up when he approached her desk. “Good morning.”

“Hello.”

The receptionist looked past him, then back to him. Maybe checking to see if Seth had accompanied him? Brogan smiled. “Brogan Gilmore. Dan Stabe left a package for me.” He refrained from tapping his fingers on the raised glass countertop that encircled the area as she clicked a few keys.

“May I see some identification?” Her smile broadened as she extended her hand toward him. “I need to make sure you’re who you say you are.”

“Of course.” He dug out his wallet and flipped it open to show his driver’s license. She studied it before standing to move to a bank of cubby holes. After extracting a bulky, banded accordion file folder, she returned to the desk. “Here you go.”

Brogan thanked her and tucked the package under his arm as he hurried to the elevator. During the short ride to the lobby, he resisted the urge to flip through the papers.

In the car, he placed the folder on the console between them. Melender rested her hand on the package. “What’s this?”

“Something Stabe wanted me to have.” Brogan put the car in reverse and backed out of the space

Her fingers lightly tapped the folder. “It looks like his notes from my trial.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What makes you think that?”

“I recognize the folder.” She pointed to a circular stain on the light brown surface. “He set his coffee mug here and some of it spilled.” Melender pointed to another marred area. “This greasy spot is from a sandwich wrapper. And that”—she indicated a smudged shape—“is where I drew a wood anemone blossom. It’s kind of our family flower.”

Brogan pulled onto the main street. “I’m impressed with your memory. Half the time I can’t recall a stain on my shirt from the same day, much less what happened to an accordion file from eighteen years ago.”

“Don’t envy me.” She shrugged. “I had a lot of time in prison to go over the events that led up to my incarceration.”

Her solemn declaration gripped his heart. “Are you okay? You seem a little…” He searched for the right word. “Sad.”

Hot on the scent of piecing together the truth of what happened to Jesse, he’d overlooked this case was more than a mystery to be solved and a story to be written. To Melender, it was about reclaiming her adult life from its dark past and bringing it into the light of truth.

Melender swiped at her cheek. “Why do you think Stabe gave you the folder?”

He smiled at her diversionary tactic. While accelerating through a yellow light, Brogan glanced over at her. “Melender, something’s wrong. Is it the recording?”

She shook her head, not meeting his gaze but staring out of the window. “Please—” Her hand grasped the armrest. “Brogan, watch out!”

He jerked his attention back to the road. A black SUV swerved into his lane, bumping his vehicle into the oncoming traffic. Horns blared as Brogan twisted the wheel hard to the right to regain his lane, but the SUV slammed into them.

“Brace yourself!” He stomped on the brakes and swerved to the right but couldn’t completely avoid an oncoming pickup truck. The pressure of his seatbelt held him tight as the high-pitched whine of tearing metal and the loud pop of the deploying airbags filled his ears.

The impact sent his SUV spinning into an unyielding object, whipping Brogan’s head against the door frame with a thunk. Light flashed and sparkled as pain exploded across his skull. He fought the enclosing darkness but was no match for the blackness that overwhelmed his senses.