Always Faithful Page 14

  Phillip clamped his hand over Sally’s wrist and squeezed until she cried out and fell back. Rowan slumped to the floor, gasping for breath. After pushing Sally toward Zach, he drew Rowan to the loveseat in the women’s changing area while his friend.

  “I thought cutting your tires would be enough,” the woman shouted as she was placed into restraints. “I should have slit your throat when I had the chance. Even that wouldn’t be payment enough for murdering my husband.” She began crying, a series of incoherent sobs that escalated into hysterical, shrieking wails.

  Rowan rubbed at her neck. After staggering to her feet and shoving past Phillip, she paused, clearly enraged, in front of Sally Kemp. “I didn’t sleep with your husband, you delusional maniac! You want to point fingers? You point them somewhere else.”

  “Take Mrs. Kemp out of here,” Phillip ordered. “Call the psych team from the hospital. Maybe they’ll admit her right away. Tell them it’s a priority.”

  “Sir, I imagine they’ll take her down to the hospital in Pendleton pretty quick.” The police escort secured her from Zack then hauled Sally Kemp outside. She fought them each step of the way until they finally had to hog-tie her and carry her to their vehicle.

  “Maybe they’ll make her a permanent resident, too,” Rowan shouted after them.

  Phillip caught her elbow. “That’s enough.”

  She jerked free, eyes huge in her pale face. “How could you do this to me? How could you even think of taking Ian?”

  Phillip pulled back and drew himself to his full height. “You’d better reread the custody papers more carefully. I could never take Ian from you the way you took him from me.”

  Rowan returned to the loveseat and picked up the documents. Her hands shook as she flipped through them.

  “Joint custody and a thousand dollars a month in child support, plus a division in child care costs, if that ever became necessary,” he told her.

  “Phillip, I—”

  “How could you think I would hurt you or Ian in that way? He isn’t a yo-yo, Rowan. He’s a little boy who needs both of his parents. I told you that I intended to be a father. I wasn’t lying.”

  With each word, he edged closer until her fragrance wrapped itself around him. Phillip noted Rowan’s pallor and the darkening of yet another series of bruises around her neck. First her face, then her arm, now her neck… His Rowan was a mess. My Rowan?

  Zach cleared his throat, drawing their attention to the small audience gathered in the hallway, listening with avid interest. It seemed that once again they were providing entertainment for the office. They drew apart and the spectators dispersed, urged on by Zach’s persistent glares.

  Phillip cleared his throat. “Zach, please take Rowan home. You can follow her in my car. I’ll get a ride and meet you there later this evening.”

  When Zach opened his mouth to protest, Phillip cut him off. “I’ll explain later when I catch up with you.”

  * * * *

  Rowan and her mother sat out on the back porch sipping their tea and watching the setting sun streak the desert hills with purple and rose shadows. Some of her most precious childhood memories were of tea parties with her mom when she had been a little girl. As she’d grown, plastic cups had changed to porcelain then to mugs, and life’s problems had dissolved with the childhood routine. But she wasn’t a child anymore, and all the tea in the world couldn’t fix this issue.

  Blowing across her steaming mug, Rowan tried to think about what she would do if the Marine Corps found her guilty of murder—what she would do if Phillip failed her and her family. Yes, the evidence should clear her, but what if something went wrong?

  “When are you going to let go?” Her mother’s softly spoken question broke the evening’s hush, sounding unnaturally loud.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve always been a great one for planning, even when you were a child.” Her voice was fond with remembrance. “But it’s time to let someone else worry about your life for a change.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re saying.” Rowan took a hasty gulp of too-hot tea and winced.

  “What I’m saying, dear, is that you need to trust Phillip. Stop brooding over what-ifs and let the man do what he does best. That is why you requested him in the first place, isn’t it?”

  Stung, Rowan retorted, “I trusted Phillip nine years ago, and see where that got me.”

  Her mom gave her a reproachful look. “That’s not kind and is most certainly untrue—and you know it.” Adding a spoonful of honey to her tea, she stirred. “As a matter of fact, it’s partly because of Phillip that you’re where you are today.”

  She shook her head. “Naturally, I wouldn’t have Ian without him. But as for my career in the Corps, that’s my doing, not his.”

  “Dear, you know as well as I that had things progressed with Phillip, joining the Marine Corps would never have been an option for you.” After taking a long sip of tea, her mother went on. “When your father died, you were forced into a role of responsibility beyond your years.”

  Rowan made a noise of denial but her mother kept talking.

  “You took charge and organized our lives. When I was ready, you helped me get back to work and learn to live with my grief.”

  “Mom, you would have pulled through on your own. You’re a strong woman.”

  “Perhaps. It was such a shock, though. I really couldn’t function for a long time after your father’s death. For you, not having Phillip to depend on made you stronger. I swear I don’t know how you did it, knowing how your heart was aching for him and your father.”

  Reaching out and squeezing her mother’s hand, Rowan thought back to those tumultuous years and sighed. “We made it together, all of us.”

  “We did because you chose a difficult path and made it work against all odds. Now it’s time to think about yourself.”

  “All I do is think about myself, Mom.” Rowan finished off her tea and set the mug down on the glass-topped patio table between them. “I think about how stupid I was to follow Charlie into that building in the middle of the night and how I should have known better.”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  Rowan saw the quick, darting shadows of Pipistrelle bats diving for insects attracted to the glow of their garage light. “I’m like those moths the bats are after, drawn by my curiosity to a dangerous situation then consumed for my folly.”

  “You did what you thought was right. Stop blaming yourself and work with Phillip to find the answer to this horrible puzzle. Stop fighting him.”

  Rowan sighed. “Phillip wants joint custody of Ian, Mom.”

  “I know. He told me today when I came to pick you up from the office.”

  Rowan’s laugh was self-reproving. “I shouldn’t be surprised that he was so generous with his terms. It’s just that I feel as if he’s coming into my life and taking control of more than my legal problems. Everything is coming apart and I don’t know which way to go from here.”

  “Feelings can do that to a person.”

  “I don’t have time for feelings now, Mom. The only thing I have time to worry about is what you and Ian will do if I get sent to Leavenworth for fifty years. I guess Ian won’t be a problem. Phillip will watch out for him. I’ll have to sell the house—unless Phillip wants it. No, I’ll sell it. You’ll need a power of attorney. I hate to think of you all by yourself. My God, we don’t even have health insurance. I’ve depended on the military to provide—”

  “Enough!” Her mother smacked her mug down onto the patio table with a sharp crack. Standing, she stared down at Rowan, hands braced on hips.

  “There are things in life you cannot plan. Love is one of them. Rowan, if you can’t seize each moment and live your life to the fullest, you will wake up one day and the only thing that you will have to hold on to will be regret.”

  With that, her mother walked back to her own house with a guard, leaving Rowan curled up in her chair, tracing the rim of
her cold mug with one finger.

  Rowan glanced up into the night. A shooting star blazed across the darkness, followed by another.

  Make a wish, quick! Even that childhood tradition failed to lift her spirits. Wishes were for dreamers and she’d quit dreaming years ago.

  * * * *

  Phillip had spent an hour pleading with Laura to drop him off in the desert then hours more waiting for his prey to show up. He trusted her to help him more than he trusted anyone else right about now. It had finally paid off. He watched the gray pickup truck roll to a stop on a side road not far from Rowan’s house. Whoever it was had a clear view of both Rowan’s and Emma’s houses but hopefully not Phillip’s hiding place deep in the creosote bushes.

  He drew the binoculars up for a closer look, but the darkness obscured the driver except for the telltale ember of a cigarette. Phillip inched forward, afraid to turn on his flashlight for fear of discovery. The Marine Corps had taught him outdoor survival but skulking through nighttime desert underbrush had not been part of that training. He only hoped there wasn’t a rattlesnake lurking in his vicinity.

  A coyote yipped out a call, answered by the pack. The eerie howls set his pulse racing. Phillip forced himself to stay calm. It was only a coyote—a dog. Right? A wild dog out at night looking for an easy meal, probably hoping he’d find a man stupid enough to be crawling through the desert at midnight.

  One step…two. Before he realized it, Phillip was within ten feet of the vehicle. He hunkered down onto his haunches and lifted the binoculars. Malcolm Collins.

  Phillip smiled to himself. So, the weasel was doing a little snooping on his own, but why?

  What are you after, Malcolm? Better yet, what are you trying to hide?

  The thought came so quickly that it surprised Phillip. Of course Collins could have something to hide. Why else would he have botched Kemp’s murder investigation?

  Great theory. Now where’s the proof?

  Phillip decided not to instigate a confrontation. If they were able to gather evidence that somehow incriminated Malcolm Collins, it wouldn’t do to tip their hands too soon.

  The last light in Rowan’s house blinked out. Seconds later, Collins cranked the motor to life and eased down the road, back in the direction of town.

  “Tomorrow,” Phillip murmured and straightened to his feet. The uneven layers of sand beneath him didn’t cooperate. He slid, teetered for balance then toppled backward into a large patch of cactus.

  * * * *

  Rowan didn’t know which woke her first, Oscar’s bark or the knocking. She was on her feet and downstairs in time to hear Zach say, “Good God, Phillip, what happened? Have you been shot?”

  Phillip’s response was puzzling. “Shut up and help me.”

  She could barely see their forms in the dim light of the darkened doorway. In wide-eyed horror, Rowan watched Phillip slump belly-first to the floor. He could barely move. A thousand questions slammed through her. Who shot him? How badly is he hurt?

  Zach flipped on the light. Her shock and fear melted away and she burst into peals of laughter. Zach’s rich bellows soon joined hers. Clumps of cholla cactus spines dotted Phillip’s back and buttocks, piercing him through his dark cotton shorts and shirt.

  “Will one of you please quit laughing and pull them out?” he snapped.

  Still giggling, Rowan went into the kitchen and retrieved a paper sack and a pair of needle-nose pliers.

  Zach sat on the floor and leaned against the wall to watch the extraction. “What happened? Someone shoot you with a cactus-loaded shotgun?”

  Rowan tried to stop grinning and failed. It was a novel experience to be able to assist Phillip for a change. She relished the moment.

  “I fell,” he grumbled.

  Zach smothered a snort. “You sure did. What were you doing out in the desert in the middle of the night? You could have been hurt.”

  He jerked his head up. “I was hurt.”

  Pliers raised, Rowan pulled back, amusement tickling her from head to toe. “And the answer to the question is?”

  Using his arms as a cushion, he laid his head down. “Where’s Mike? He’s supposed to be watching the house.”

  “He has to sit duty at the base tonight.” Rowan started with the spines that were easiest to reach, those barely hanging on. “The question? Don’t move, please. These are very difficult to pull out.”

  Phillip winced. “There’s been a truck hanging around here lately. I wanted to see who it was.”

  Zach tucked his legs under himself meditation-style. “And?”

  “Malcolm Collins.”

  She paused, pliers open in mid-grab. “Why would he be snooping around here?”

  “I don’t know. He left as soon as your house lights went out.”

  “Because he knew we were in for the night,” Zach said.

  “That’s what I’m thinking… Rowan, please…the cactus?”

  “Sorry.” She yanked out another clump. “It almost sounds like you’re saying he leaves once he’s sure we’re settled down.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Tomorrow night I’m going to follow him. I would have tonight if I’d had a car.”

  “What did you do, walk here from the base?” Rowan asked.

  “I got Laura to drop me off.”

  How sweet. Rowan located a needle stuck deep in the firm flesh of Phillip’s buttock and yanked as hard as she could.

  “Ow!” Phillip rolled around, reaching for the offended spot. Obviously realizing that his movement served to embed more cholla needles deeper into his other flank, he yelped and resumed his original position. Wincing, he reached back to locate the worst of the offending spikes.

  She smacked his hand away. “Be still or you’ll have it in your hand next.” When he rolled back into place, she added, “I don’t know why you don’t let the authorities handle this.”

  “Like you did?” he shot back. “Besides, Collins is one of the authorities. How far do you think an inquiry will go with him around?”

  He was right. If it hadn’t been for Phillip’s persistence in the first place, Kemp’s murder never would have garnered a second look beyond the shoddy evidence Collins had provided.

  “Just be careful snooping,” Zach told him. “I’m really not in the mood to bury you or defend you for murder. Is there anything you need me to do?”

  Phillip propped himself on his elbows. “Yeah, see if you can get some scoop on Collins. Contact someone from our investigative office in Pendleton if you have to.”

  Rowan yanked the last dozen needles out of Phillip and tossed them into the sack. “That should do it, but you’re really going to feel it for a few days. Strip down and I’ll throw your clothes in the washer. A long soak in my tub ought to help reduce the stinging and swelling.”

  “Not if I have to use that flowery soap.”

  She laughed. “There’s a bar of Dove under the bathroom sink.”

  Phillip peeled off his shirt and took the stairs two at a time. Rowan’s stomach did flip-flops at the sight of him. Years of physical training had sculpted his chest and back to perfection. Her fingers itched to caress the angles.

  “I’m going to bed,” Zach said. “You wanted him cornered. Looks to me like he’s not going anywhere.”

  “I don’t think now is the—”

  He steered her toward the stairs. “Just get it over with. I doubt you’ll get another opportunity as good as this one. The only way he can avoid you now is to jump out of the window.”

  Rowan waited until she thought she heard Phillip slip into the tub. She gathered his clothes from where he had dropped them outside the bathroom door and moved them as far away as possible. After a deep breath to steel her nerves and her resolve, she walked in.

  Phillip snapped a washcloth over his lap. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

  “We need to talk. I need to talk. And you’re going to listen.”

  He leaned back and closed his eyes with a sigh of re
signation. “Fine. Talk. But don’t come any closer.”

  Rowan sank to the floor and braced herself against the wall opposite the tub. “This won’t be easy.”

  “Just spit it out and get it over with.”

  Harsh. Well, what do I expect? It was about to get worse.

  Fighting for the strength to continue, Rowan concentrated on the white scar blazed across his left biceps—the result of his attempt to make love to her in the close confines of a sleeping bag. The confinement had panicked her so much that she had rolled them both onto a tent stake—his first exposure to her intense claustrophobia. Even then, bleeding from the jagged wound, he hadn’t been as angry as he was now.

  “Could you put aside your anger for a little while?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  Silence was his answer. It was better than nothing. She’d take it.

  “Why did you file for custody of Ian?”

  He was quiet for so long that Rowan was afraid he wouldn’t answer. Finally, the tension drained from his shoulders.

  “After I saw that truck here again last night, I got scared. I thought it would be a way to protect him if something happened. I wanted our son’s safety and security resolved now, just in case.”

  “I’m not going to fight you on this, Phillip. I’ll tell the judge that myself tomorrow morning. Ian is your son. You have a right to be a part of his life. You should have always been a part of his life.”

  He snorted, shifting slightly in the steaming water. “Strange that you should choose now to remember that.”

  Rowan flexed her fingers, searching for the right words. She found only the truth.

  “I discovered I was pregnant about two weeks after you left on your ‘vacation’.” She made quote marks in the air with her fingers. “I was a little surprised since we were always so careful about us not getting pregnant. Well, almost always. You don’t know how ecstatic I was. All I could think about was telling you we were going to have a baby. But you hadn’t told me where you were going or why. You’d kept putting me off, saying you had some things to do and you needed to get away for a while.” She could feel herself getting flushed with emotion. “I did call you, Phillip.”