I’LL BE WATCHING YOU Page 12

The waiter jotted down her order. ‘And you, sir?’

  ‘The sirloin sandwich,’ Mark said. ‘With fries and onion rings.’

  The moment the waiter left them, Ella surveyed Mark’s stocky physique. ‘Not worried about your weight, are you? Men are so lucky. If a woman is ten pounds over the norm, she worries herself sick about not being attractive.’

  ‘If you’re referring to yourself, cousin, I don’t think you need worry about your figure.’

  ‘Hm … mm. Well, I suppose we could spend our entire lunch indulging in idle chitchat, but that wouldn’t solve our immediate problem, would it?’

  Mark groaned. ‘I fully believe in Reed Conway’s innocence. I think he was wrongfully convicted of his stepfather’s murder, and I know he isn’t the person harassing you.’

  ‘You sound awfully confident.’ Ella reached down, snapped open her purse and removed a white envelope. ‘Take a look at this. It’s just like the other two I received last week, which my father took to Frank Nelson. And all three letters are very similar to the ones Reed Conway wrote to me when he was first sent to prison.’

  Ella handed Mark the envelope. He opened it, took out the letter and read it quickly, then refolded it and placed it back in the envelope. ‘Steamy stuff. And admittedly rather unnerving.’

  ‘Yes, steamy and unnerving, to say the least.’

  ‘Ella, if I hadn’t gotten to know Reed so well since I became his lawyer when Father died, I might think him capable of being the author of that trash. But the man I know, the Reed Conway who has struggled to be a model prisoner for the past ten years, would never resort to harassing you or anyone else.’

  ‘You sound very confident.’ Ella picked up the letter from where Mark had laid it on the table and put it back in her purse. ‘My father believes Reed is simply making good on his threats, that he’s trying to torment me because he knows that’s the surest way to hurt my father.’

  ‘Reed doesn’t want to hurt anyone,’ Mark assured her. ‘He wants to find out who really killed Junior Blalock. He wants to clear his name. But first and foremost he wants to stay out of prison. He knows that if he breaks the law, his parole will be revoked. He’s not stupid enough to risk losing his freedom simply to annoy Webb.’

  ‘I want to believe you, but … Reed frightens me. I’ve seen him twice since he’s been home and both times I … well, I walked away from each encounter feeling as if I’d been threatened.’

  The waiter interrupted long enough to place a container of freshly baked yeast rolls on the table. In the interim, Mark drank half a glass of tea and, while glancing around the restaurant, Ella caught a glimpse of her aunt Cybil at the bar. Her initial reaction was to check on her aunt, try to persuade her not to drink and then, if necessary, call Uncle Jeff Henry. But Cybil was with friends – a couple of ladies from the local historical society – so that meant she might have a mixed drink before lunch, but she wouldn’t get soused. Aunt Cybil had an uncanny ability to save her binges for times when she was either alone or with family. Ella groaned silently.

  ‘Reed can be very intimidating,’ Mark said. ‘You must remember that he has survived fifteen years in prison. He’s tough and hard. Very hard. And unemotional. But he’s no run-of-the-mill ex-con.’

  Mark regained her attention with his comments, so her mind reversed gears and put concerns about her aunt temporarily on the back burner. ‘Telling me how intimidating and tough Reed is doesn’t ease my fears. If anything, the exact opposite is true.’

  ‘Are you aware of the fact that he gained a college degree while serving time in Donaldson? He had already started working toward his master’s degree when he was released. He is a man who has prepared for a future on the outside. Why would he risk everything he’s worked so hard to achieve just to annoy Webb? I’m telling you, the man isn’t looking for vengeance.’

  ‘I had no idea he’d acquired a degree,’ Ella said, completely surprised by this unexpected information. She’d never thought of Reed as the academic type, only the physical type. But, except for what others had told her about the man, she really didn’t know Reed. ‘If that’s true, then why is he working in his cousin’s garage as a mechanic?’

  Mark snorted. ‘Because he isn’t the type to let his mother and sister support him. He was determined to have a job of some kind when he was released from prison, and not one person in this prejudiced town would hire him.’

  ‘Then why didn’t he go somewhere else – Birmingham or Huntsville, where no one knows him?’

  ‘His family is here and so is his past. Reed’s not likely to find Junior’s killer in Huntsville or Birmingham.’

  ‘Okay, let’s say I believe you, that I believe Reed didn’t write the letters to me or make the phone calls.’ She had to admit to herself that Mark was quite convincing. But then again, she’d come to this lunch meeting wanting to be convinced. For some inexplicable reason – perhaps a reason too fundamental for her to accept – she needed to believe that Reed Conway was innocent of murder and innocent of harassment. ‘If Reed is innocent, then who could be harassing me and why?’

  The waiter brought their orders, placing Ella’s in front of her and then setting down Mark’s. ‘Is there anything else y’all need?’

  Ella shook her head. Mark said, ‘No, thank you. We’re fine.’ Ella lifted her fork from where it rested on her white linen napkin.

  ‘There are several possibilities,’ Mark told her as he uncapped the ketchup bottle. ‘First, perhaps someone who’s gone through your court in the past year has decided to harass you.’ Mark tapped the bottle and ketchup poured onto his plate between the fries and the onion rings. ‘Second, you could have a lovesick suitor with a very dirty mind.’ Mark dipped a long, thick fry into the ketchup. ‘Or third, someone is trying to frame Reed, trying to implicate him in the harassment.’

  Ella used her fork to mix the honey-mustard dressing thoroughly through her salad. ‘And why would anyone want to do such a thing?’

  Mark ate his french fry and then dipped another. ‘Someone who wants Reed back in prison. Someone who can’t afford for the real truth about Junior Blalock’s murder to come out.’

  ‘The killer,’ Ella heard herself say; then suddenly she realized she had all but confessed to Mark that she, too, believed that Reed was innocent. ‘I mean, if Reed isn’t the real killer.’

  ‘Something tells me that you know he’s not, that your gut instincts tell you that although he may intimidate you, might even frighten you a little, he isn’t a murderer.’

  ‘If I get any more letters or any more phone calls, my family won’t rest until—’

  ‘Then don’t tell Webb about this third letter. Don’t play this game with Junior’s real killer. If you don’t cooperate with what he or she is trying to accomplish, then it’ll stop.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘My bet is, this person’s goal is to get Reed in trouble – enough trouble to have his parole revoked – so if this scheme of harassing you doesn’t work, there’ll be no need to keep it up.’

  ‘Let’s say your scenario is correct, then what’s to stop this person from escalating the harassment? Maybe he or she has more in mind than just letters and phone calls.’

  ‘Ella, I don’t think you’re in any danger,’ Mark said. ‘After all, whoever’s doing this has no reason to harm you. Reed is the target, not you.’

  ‘Do you think Reed’s life is in danger?’ And just why should you care? she asked herself. Reed Conway is nothing to you. Nothing except an annoyance. A seductive nightmare that won’t go away.

  ‘I believe that somewhere out there in our safe little town is a killer who got away with murder fifteen years ago and has no intention of letting Reed unearth the truth about who really murdered Junior and why. Yes, Reed’s in danger. And you might well be the one person who can help him.’

  At six-thirty Ella parked her Jag in front of The Cozy Corner, a bookstore that also sold speciality gifts and greeting cards, and boasted the only g
ourmet coffee bar in town. She went inside the shop to find a new paperback to read tonight. She desperately needed something – anything – to take her mind off Reed Conway. She had to stop wondering about his guilt or innocence. She couldn’t continue allowing herself to worry that her father might have helped to convict an innocent man.

  ‘Ella!’

  The moment she heard someone calling her name, she scanned the area from which the voice had come. The coffee bar. There sat Heather, and at her side was a rather attractive man. Although Ella thought he looked familiar, she didn’t immediately recognize him. Heather merely waved but didn’t invite Ella to join her. Just as well. She didn’t want to intrude when Heather was making a new conquest. And since her recent divorce, those new conquests seemed to be a weekly if not daily event.

  When she passed the greeting cards section on her way to the paperback fiction aisle, Ella noticed her aunt Cybil. She hadn’t gotten a chance to say hello at Callahan’s earlier today because by the time she had finished her lunch with Mark, her aunt had already left. Ella altered her path just enough to stop and speak.

  ‘Hello, Aunt Cybil. How are you this evening?’

  ‘Ella, how nice to see you. I wish you’d make time for us to get together some time soon. I miss our tennis games.’ Cybil’s smile was weak and rather melancholy.

  She adored her aunt, despite Cybil’s gradual descent into alcoholism. Because her mother had been confined to a wheelchair all Ella’s life, her aunt had been the one who’d taken her shopping for clothes and school supplies, the one who had taught her to play tennis and to swim. In many ways, Cybil had been as much of a mother to her as Carolyn had been.

  ‘Why don’t we go to the movies together next weekend?’ Ella suggested. ‘We’ll find ourselves a light-hearted romantic comedy to see. Then we’ll go somewhere and pig out on hot fudge sundaes.’

  ‘Oh, darling girl, don’t you know that all romances are comedies. In real life and in the movies. We’re all a bunch of silly fools when it comes to love.’ When Cybil took an unsteady step toward her, Ella realized that her aunt was tipsy. Strange how soberly Cybil could talk when she couldn’t walk a straight line.

  ‘You didn’t drive yourself here, did you?’ If so, Ella had every intention of taking Cybil’s keys away from her and escorting her home.

  ‘Lord, no. Jeff Henry brought me. He’s parked up the street. He’s such a meany. He wouldn’t let me come down here by myself to pick up a birthday card for Sue Ellen Ricks, and he knows Sue Ellen always sends me a card. Every year. Without fail.’

  ‘Did you find her a nice card?’ Ella glanced at the large, pink card that Cybil clutched to her chest.

  ‘Quite lovely. See?’ She held the card out for Ella’s perusal.

  ‘Would you like for me to walk you outside to meet Uncle Jeff Henry after you pay for the card?’

  ‘Nonsense, darling girl. I’m perfectly capable of finding my way back to Jeff Henry’s Cadillac. The way y’all treat me, you’d think I’m as much of an invalid as Carolyn is. And you know that’s not true. It’s just that sometimes I drink a little too much.’

  ‘I don’t mind walking you—’

  ‘Are you meeting someone for coffee?’ Cybil deftly changed the subject. ‘I noticed Heather had a good-looking young man with her. That’s what you need. I would so like to see you in love. You need a man of your own. Someone to love you as much as you love him.’

  ‘I’m dating Dan Gilmore and he’s a very nice man.’

  ‘Dan Gilmore. Yuck.’ Cybil giggled. ‘No … niece of mine … would be in love with that stuffed shirt.’

  ‘I didn’t say I was in love with him.’

  ‘Good. I’d hate to think of you wasting your love and your life on a man who would never appreciate you.’ Cybil leaned over and kissed Ella’s cheek. ‘My precious, precious little Ella.’

  Ella returned the kiss and took her aunt’s arm. Cybil pulled free and walked away, stopping at the end of the check-out line. If only there were some way she could help her aunt. Everyone in the family had tried to help her, but to no avail. Cybil had always been a social drinker, but only in the past few years had her drinking become a problem. And those bouts of drunkenness, which used to occur about once a month, were now happening at least once a week, and occasionally more often.

  She knew Cybil was unhappy with her life. Her aunt had never worked outside the home and she only dabbled in charity work. When she’d been younger, she had been a debutante. Now, Cybil belonged to all the social clubs in the area, but her membership in most of the organizations had lapsed. Her marriage to Jeff Henry seemed to be a farce, which often made Ella wonder why the two had ever married. They seemed totally unsuited. When Ella had asked her father about it, he’d said that Jeff Henry had wed the closest thing to Carolyn he could find. And he believed that, at one time, Cybil might have actually loved Jeff Henry.

  Their marriage had produced no children, and Ella didn’t know whether they had decided to remain childless, or if one of them was incapable of having children. All her life, her aunt and uncle had doted on her, and it was obvious they both loved children. Perhaps they should have adopted, the way her own parents had when they found out that Carolyn could never have a child of her own.

  Ella kept an eye on her aunt until she went through the check-out line and out the front door. No doubt Uncle Jeff Henry was watching for her. Despite all his faults and flaws, he did try his best to take care of Cybil. He was endlessly patient and caring.

  Ella found the paperback fiction section quickly and began scanning the stacks. Maybe a science fiction or fantasy novel, something that would whisk her out of this world and take her a million miles away from her problems. She certainly didn’t want a mystery or suspense, and definitely not a romance. Nothing that would make her think about Reed.

  Just as she lifted Anne McCaffrey’s last novel from the shelves, a shiver of foreboding rippled along her nerve endings – an odd sensation of awareness. Trying not to be obvious about her curiosity, she glanced around in every direction and didn’t see anyone nearby. My imagination must be working overtime. She tried to ignore the uneasy feeling inside her.

  She decided to buy the book and head for home, but when she passed the non-fiction aisle, she caught a glimpse of someone in her peripheral vision. Stopping dead still, she turned her head slowly and took a closer look. There stood Reed Conway, between the two tall shelves of non-fiction reading. He had undoubtedly come straight from the garage. He still wore stained jeans and a soiled white T-shirt. A day’s growth of beard only added to the raw masculinity that oozed from every pore in his big, hard body.

  Run. Run now, before he sees you. Before he catches you staring at him. You’re a fool if you linger, if you speak to him.

  As if sensing her presence the way she had his, Reed lifted his head and stared directly at her. ‘Hello, Miss Ella.’

  Her heart beat wildly, sounding an erratic rat-a-tat-tat that she could hear inside her head. She almost screamed at him to leave her alone, but of course, she didn’t say a word. All the man had done was speak to her. But his gaze touched her, caressed her, fondled her. It was invisible, yet potent. With only the mesmerizing glare from his ice-cold blue eyes, Reed captured her and held her immobile. He replaced the book he’d been flipping through and turned to face Ella again. With her chest rising and falling as her breathing grew harsh and heavy, an anxious anticipation soaring through her, Ella watched while he moved toward her. Slowly, deliberately, he zeroed in on her as a powerful animal would slink toward its helpless prey.

  When he was almost upon her, she caught her breath and held it. Calm down. There is nothing he can do to you here, in a public place. But she was lying to herself and she knew it. He had already done something to her. With nothing more than a look, he had violated the privacy of her mind and body.

  Reed stopped when he was within a foot of her and glanced at the book she held against her chest as if it were a lifeline. ‘Planning on
spending the evening reading?’

  ‘Yes.’ She barely managed to get the word past the lump in her throat. It was fear, excitement and sexual awareness – a hard knot of combined emotions.

  ‘What’s the matter with that guy you’re seeing?’ Reed asked. ‘If you were my woman, I’d keep you too busy to read at night.’

  A shiver zinged through her, from toes to fingers. An image of just what Reed and she would be doing together filled her mind – a living-color spectacle of naked arms and legs, tangled sheets, damp bodies, erotic whisperings.

  ‘But I’m not your woman, am I?’ Don’t just leave it with that kind of statement, she warned herself. You practically asked him if he considered you his woman. ‘I don’t belong to anyone. I’m my own woman.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re not wearing some other man’s brand.’

  She gasped, startled by the audacity of his bold statement. ‘Is that your idea of a relationship, Mr Conway? Burning your brand into as many women as possible?’

  He grinned at her then and, heaven help her, she found that she was as susceptible to that sexy smile as any other woman. Her body reacted, tingling and pulsating. Damn it all, Reed Conway was lethal.

  ‘A man only brands the woman he wants to claim as his personal property.’

  Reed took that final step that brought them together, so close that she could see the silver specks in his blue eyes and the thin white scar that bisected his lower lip right in the middle.

  Ella swallowed. Willing herself to remain in control, to give this annoying man absolutely no power over her, she offered him a fragile smile. ‘I received another letter this morning. Just like the other two.’

  His self-confident grin faded quickly. ‘Then I suppose I can expect another visit from Frank Nelson, another warning.’

  ‘I haven’t mentioned the letter to anyone except Mark Leamon. He’s convinced that someone else is writing the letters and making the phone calls in order to incriminate you. He thinks someone wants you back in prison before you discover the identity of Junior Blalock’s real killer.’