Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 3 Page 17

  “Whether it was your intent or not, you did. I’ve read Kari’s journals. She almost never mentioned your son. You, on the other hand, came up several times a year.”

  “That was unjust of her. I tried to—”

  “Buy off a young woman that your son battered, raped, and left alone in an alley in the worst part of Rockland.”

  Steve’s eyes widened. He hadn’t known that last part, but now something his son had mentioned made sense. Not for the first time, he was thankful he’d paid off Kari Finley. She would have irreparably damaged the Solari name. The powerful men he worked with in Rockland understood the need for occasional strong-arm tactics or the discreet removal of troubles, but these sort of sordid scandals brought their own indiscretions under scrutiny and left them vulnerable.

  He’d been torn between eliminating Kari Finley and the pay-off. Only the fear of appearances should it manage to be traced back to anyone connected with him had spared Kari’s life, and he now knew that she knew it. Payment had left his options open. If she’d come forward, he could confess indiscretion on the part of his son but deny the rape and abuse. She was a gold-digger out to fleece the family. He could claim he’d tried to put her away quietly but her greed had forced his hand… It would have worked if he’d needed it. Willow, however, had been a wrench in the cogs of his plan that he’d never imagined until Kari was unable to do anything more to harm him.

  A new thought occurred to him as he pondered Chad’s words. Journals. Proof in the words of a dead woman against Steve Jr. This was very bad. He had to get someone in that house and remove the journals.

  “I had no idea it was that bad. I knew, of course, that it was bad, but she could have died!”

  “Yes.”

  It was time for a fresh tactic. “Well, I do see the awkwardness. I couldn’t put my wife in a position to be snubbed or attacked for things she is not responsible for. Yet, I want to do something in honor of your wedding. What would you suggest?”

  “Willow is making the invitations. I will have her mail you an announcement so that you will feel free to send your gift, but you should remember that she may not accept it. If she does accept it, it has to be without any obligation for her to accept you. If you can do that, I’ll take care of it, but otherwise…”

  Steve nodded and stifled the temptation to rub his hands together in anticipation of his next move. This would simply be step one in a process too long for his comfort but worth the effort. Willow Finley had more of his personality and tenacity than either she or her silly boyfriend knew. He knew how to work these in his favor.

  “What would you suggest?”

  Several long seconds—half a minute perhaps—passed before Chad answered the question. “Willow treasures things that are a reflection of the giver. She’s going to have a hard time with wedding gifts, though.”

  “Why is that? I thought every bride loved the silver whattzits and whosnots that arrive around weddings.”

  Grinning, Chad shook his head. “This is Willow. The queen of practicality. She won’t want a house full of things that she has no use for or place to put it. She buys little, uses little, and lives in happy bliss with—”

  “Little.”

  A brief moment of camaraderie passed between the two men. They sat on opposing sides of a table, the law, and relationships with the same woman, and yet that flash of insight knit tentative strings of understanding between the men. Steve’s hard work had now lowered Chad’s defenses.

  “Even I don’t buy—”

  “I’m sure you have other talents and gifts she appreciates far more—” Solari coughed, “—deeply than any trinket you could purchase.” The moment the words left his mouth, Steve wondered if it might not have been too much. Then again, seeing the indignation in Chad’s eyes made it worth it.

  “You forget, sir, that Willow and I are Christians. I treat Willow as the lady she is. She’s as pure today as the day I met her and not because of prudish reticence. I value her too much to treat her like a cheap tramp off the streets.”

  “Good. I’d have to kill you if you misused my granddaughter.” The laughter in his voice and the smile on his face did little to hide the threat in Solari’s eyes.

  Chad stood and dropped his napkin on the table. “I didn’t take you for a hypocrite, Solari. I have a lot of growing opinions of you, but hypocrisy wasn’t one of them. Never speak of Willow in the intimate way you did and then threaten me in the same breath. Joke or no joke, it won’t fly.”

  Steve Solari sat pensive as Chad strode across the restaurant. He’d pushed. He’d planned to push a little. Had he pushed too far? Had he inadvertently shown the ace up his sleeve? Was it good or bad that they’d parted like this?

  As the server arrived with the bill, a slow smile crept over Solari’s face. “That’s unusual sir.”

  “Unusual how?” Steve asked as he slid a credit card into the leather folder without even a glance at the total.

  “Most people don’t smile when they get their bill.”

  “I just had the best meal I’ve had in a long time—and that’s saying a lot for me. I’m very satisfied.”

  Ten minutes later, the server accepted the signed receipt and glanced at the added tip. Whistling low, he murmured, “You must be satisfied!”

  Chapter Eighty-Five

  “How did it go?”

  Chad pulled Willow into an embrace that left her breathless. Something had bothered him through dinner and all the way home. As he climbed the steps into Willow’s house, he’d identified what unsettled him. Solari admitted his reputation depended on discretion. His entire empire could fall if it was ever proven that his son did the things they’d discussed. Neither he nor Willow was safe if Solari thought for a moment that they’d go public with the information.

  “What is it, Chad?”

  “Tomorrow, we need to go into Brunswick and take your mother’s journals to a safe deposit box. Better yet, we need to get someone else to do it. Maybe Alexa or the Allens. I wonder if Joe…”

  Willow, dished ice cream for both of them, carried it into the living room, set it on the coffee table, and returned to the kitchen. Flipping on the circuit breaker switch, she led Chad to the couch and turned down the oil lamps. “Let’s just watch the movie and then you can tell me all about it.”

  Chad sat down reluctantly and unbuttoned his shirt cuffs. “Maybe I’ll change first.”

  Concern filled Willow’s eyes as she watched him climb the stairs. He knew he was scaring her, but he couldn’t suppress the slowly rising panic in his heart. The chief was right. Solari was terrifying news.

  As he pulled his sweats and a t-shirt from the bottom drawer in the boys’ room, Chad paused. Maybe… He snatched up the pink sweatpants, tossing his boring grey ones back in the drawer, and hurried to change.

  “Oh Chad!” Her giggles sent his heart flopping. If a small fit of amusement could affect him like this now, what would he do when he no longer held back any reservations in his affections? Immediately, he resolved to keep his affections “sisterly” at least for the time being.

  He broke that resolution faster than anything he’d ever declared on New Year’s. The moment he sat back against the cushions, Willow curled against him, one arm around his waist and her head against his chest, leaving no option but to drape his arm across her back. She smiled up at him. “You’re comfortable.”

  “Of course I am. I’ve got hottie pants on!”

  Before she could reply, air raid sirens erupted on the small laptop screen. Chad’s deep amused chuckle rumbled as the bombs ripped through the Pevensie living room. She pressed herself closer to him hiding one eye from the view on the screen until the children made it into the bomb shelter. “Oh my! How intense!”

  He could have predicted nearly every comment. She hated the opening song, “She sounds like she’s whining.” Edmund, however was immediately pronounced “delightfully annoying,” and the game of hide and seek gave her ideas. He knew instinctively that they’
d be playing their own game in the morning.

  A gasp of delight over Lucy’s entrance into Narnia set the stage for the next two hours. She wept, cheered, and laughed but nothing enamored her more than her first sight of Aslan. “Oh what a beautiful voice. It’s gentle but deep.” She smiled as his eyes met hers. “A little like yours.”

  “Stop flirting and watch the movie.”

  He had barely spoken when Maugrim tried to attack. “Oh!” For the next twenty minutes, she alternated between admiration and fear. “Oh it’s so—dark. I can feel the ugliness of the witch’s world. So—oh it’s so like reading the crucifixion and yet just different enough—”

  “I know. I didn’t think about how graphic it gets. We can turn it off.”

  “I want to see. It’s a hard scene, but it should be. I’m glad they didn’t sanitize the ugliness of it; I just am not used to seeing it so clearly. My mind never imagined it as truly awful as it needed to be, but it’s true.”

  At the end, she sighed, sounding happy and content. “To create an entire world of creatures, places, dreams, and fears—how exciting it must be to be able to do that.”

  Chad reached and turned off the music that he knew seemed out of place to her. “But you did, Willow. Your entire childhood you spent creating your own little world of fairies and woodland creatures.”

  “But that’s just part of the magic of childhood. To do it when you’re already grown…”

  The fire crackled in the stove, winds whirled around the windows as a new storm approached, and still they sat, unspeaking, avoiding the subject that neither wanted to broach. At last, Willow sighed, pulled away from Chad’s side, covered herself with a nearby quilt, and settled in the opposite corner of the couch.

  “What happened?”

  “Well, of course he wants to forge a relationship with you. I think he assumed we were naïve enough to miss the probable connection between him and Ben—”

  “But why would he do that? It doesn’t make sense. If he wants a relationship with me, why try to scare me?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Chad began, “And all I can think of is that he hoped you’d come to him for help.”

  “Why wouldn’t I go to you?”

  “Well, but think about it. We weren’t very successful in stopping it, were we? He knew you were used to solitude, he knew you might even be more fearful than those used to hearing about this stuff—” Chad sighed. “I really think he thought he’d drive you to him, he’d ‘rescue’ you, and then you’d be grateful and let him get to know you.”

  “Should I do it?”

  “No!” The tone of his voice would have answered even had he not spoken. “Don’t play his game, Willow. You don’t know how to win.”

  “But, this is my grandfather. Maybe I do know how. Maybe, just maybe, I am the one who can beat him at his game.”

  “And if you don’t,” he warned, “You could die.”

  A defeated air settled around her. “Is it really living to have this hanging over me—us?”

  “Come here.” Chad held his arms back out to hold her. As she curled next to him once more, he stroked her hair speaking as soothingly as he honestly could. “I have no doubt we’ll get him, Willow. We will. It’s our job.”

  “So what do we do with the journals?”

  “I’m calling Joe now. I’ll get him to take them to the Brunswick station tonight if he has any transports, and they can lock them in evidence there. We’ll get Nolan Burke to put them in a safe deposit box for us in the morning.”

  “My Nolan Burke? Mr. Burke’s son?”

  Chad nodded as he pulled out his phone. “He lives there. I saw him when I was in the hospital. He was surprised to know I knew you.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  Shrugging, Chad opened his phone. “I forgot about it.” He squeezed her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I know you would have liked to see him. But he can do this, and it’ll keep us safe not knowing where they really are.”

  Ten minutes later, Chad pocketed his phone. “He’s going over in an hour. Tomorrow they’ll be safe by noon. The Brunswick department will get us a safety deposit box so we don’t have to bother Nolan.”

  “Do you work tomorrow? I can’t remember.”

  “Not until two Sunday morning.”

  She nodded. “I thought maybe a good game of hide and seek…”

  “Well?”

  Solari ran his hands through his wife’s hair. “She’ll come around. I can tell I’m breaking him down. Once he’s on our side, she’ll follow.”

  “I want to go next time. Men like me. I think I could get him to listen.”

  Steve’s eyes flitted across his wife’s face, roamed to the plunging neckline of her blouse, and trailed across the tight fit of her jeans. “Looking like that, you could get him to murder his own mother.”

  “Well, that wouldn’t exactly endear Willow to his opinions, so I’ll just settle for a nice lunch with her.” It was time to present her plan. “I have an idea Steve, but it’s a little underhanded—”

  “Let’s discuss it upstairs, shall we?”

  Steve led her up the stairs. He’d need her full cooperation for his next idea and the best way to gain that was simple. He’d been blessed with an attractive wife who loved to think she had power over him in their bed. Anytime he wanted her to think she had any influence over him, he kept the discussion in their room, but if he wanted her out of the picture, he simply didn’t go upstairs.

  Lynne entered their bedroom and turned. “Oh, would you go down and get my earrings? I left them on the end table. I don’t really trust Tia not to vacuum them up or something ridiculous like that.”

  “Snatch them up would be more like it.” He kissed her and turned to retrieve the earrings.

  A slow smile appeared on Lynne’s face as she kicked off her shoes. All she had to do now was give the performance of her life—or at least of her marriage. By the time he entered the room, she had set the stage, the spotlight was on, the mic perfectly adjusted for her voice.

  Steve handed her the earrings and kicked off his shoes. Lying back on the pillows, he watched as she changed for bed. “You said you had an idea?”

  “Well,” she began realizing she’d won before she even glanced at her cards. “I think I need to appeal to her as your wife who didn’t know anything. Maybe,” she added with a penitent look that pleaded for understanding, “I even pretend I’m very upset with how you handled things and try to distance myself. Make me look like another victim…”

  Steve’s slow grin answered her before he spoke. “That is a brilliant idea. You might even want to consider acting a little afraid of me finding out she saw you without me knowing.”

  “Well,” she added provocatively. “If that didn’t work, I could always hit on the cop—”

  “Over his dead body.”

  She blinked, throwing him an innocent and confused expression while trying to keep a sneer from her lips. “Isn’t it supposed to be your dead body?”

  “I am not about to miss out on the next twenty or thirty years with you in order to keep that child’s hands off my wife. He couldn’t appreciate you if he tried.”

  As Steve dragged himself off the bed and across the room to pour them each a drink, Lynne smiled to herself. “You’ve never appreciated the best part of me, my dear Steve, and you certainly couldn’t no matter how hard you tried. Fool.”

  Chad stirred. The clock downstairs struck six-thirty. He thought he smelled oatmeal and smiled. Waking up to hot food was something he’d thank the Lord for every day of his married life. Bachelor living meant too much cold cereal.

  He carried his clothes to the woodstove, peeked into Ellie’s room, Willow’s room, and the boys’ room. Willow was up and downstairs somewhere, the rest were sleeping. Enjoying the warmth, he dressed by the stove and stretched appreciatively. What a morning!

  Downstairs, a large pan of oatmeal sat on the stove with dried blueberries plumping in the pan
as the grain soaked up the water. The milk pan sat in the kitchen sink, dented by an obvious kick by Ditto. She’d have to buy a new one. The table was set, and at his normal chair, a note lay on the plate.

  Chad,

  I’ve gone to Rockland for the day. There are some things I need to do. I have my phone if you need me, and I expect to be home in time for dinner. Please put the Dutch oven on the stove at one o’clock.

  I have a feeling you’re going to be very upset with me, but try to trust me. We both need lessons in that area.

  Be back soon,

  Willow

  Chad dropped the letter and dialed the police station. His watch read six-fifty. Could he stop the bus? He knew exactly what Willow planned and kicked himself for not anticipating it. “Judith? What time does the first bus go to Rockland?” When she assured him it didn’t leave until eight-thirty, he relaxed, exhaling in relief. “Go get Willow and bring her back here.”

  “Listen, little man, I don’t take orders from pipsqueaks! She’s a grown woman and can go to town if she likes. I don’t have time to play referee for lover’s spats.”

  “She’s going to talk to Solari. If you need a legal reason, bring her in for interfering in a police investigation, but she’s not safe with him.”

  “Gotcha. I’ll call you once I have her.”

  Judith raced from the station leaving a sleepy Joe waiting for the chief’s arrival. She wove quickly through Fairbury streets and whipped behind the Fox, expecting to see Willow waiting on the bus bench shivering and looking a little out of her element as usual. Willow never seemed quite at home near the bus.

  The bench was empty. No footprints were anywhere near the bus station— the wind had disguised them during the night. Excellent. She hadn’t even made it to town yet. Judith could just bring her home and Chad could handle the mess.

  While Judith called Chad and drove all over Fairbury and the roads between town and the farm, Willow zipped along the highway in Fairbury’s only taxi. “Thanks for coming out so early. I didn’t realize the phone went to your home, or I would have just waited.”