I’LL BE WATCHING YOU Page 28

  Believing the worst about Ella was difficult, but hearing with one’s own ears was proof positive. Eavesdropping sometimes paid off royally. Learning that Webb was actually going to help Reed Conway, that he planned to suggest to Frank Nelson that he reopen a fifteen-year-old murder case, came as quite a surprise.

  Things were going to have to progress a little faster, get a little more deadly. Reed Conway had to return to prison before the truth about Junior’s murder was revealed. And the only way to get rid of Reed was to see to it that he committed another crime. Another murder, maybe, or at least an attempted murder.

  Getting hold of the gun that Briley Joe kept in his desk at the garage shouldn’t prove too difficult, not for someone very clever. Half of Spring Creek knew Briley Joe kept the old Sauer & Sohn .308 – the weapon his father had taken off a dead German soldier in World War II – loaded and in his unlocked desk. He liked to bring the pistol out from time to time, wave it around, show it off and threaten to blow to smithereens any thieves who might be foolish enough to try to rob him. There probably wouldn’t be any way to get Reed’s fingerprints on the gun, but as long as no one’s fingerprints other than Briley Joe’s were on it, the plan might work.

  Time was running out. Drastic action needed to be taken – tonight.

  A sense of excitement radiated through Ella as she eased her Jag up beside the old truck Reed had once again borrowed from his cousin. She wondered if he’d told Briley Joe that he had a late evening rendezvous with a lady judge. She’d like to think that Reed wouldn’t discuss the personal aspects of their relationship with anyone, that what transpired between them was sacred.

  A giddy ripple of laughter emerged from her throat. Sacred? Get a grip, Ella. This isn’t a love affair, not some grand passion. At least not for Reed. Not for you either. You know what this is – it’s sex, pure and simple. But that was just it. There was nothing pure or simple about her feelings for Reed. If she had a lick of sense, she wouldn’t be here right now. She’d be home – safe and secure, and as far away from Reed as she could get.

  She heard his truck door slam shut. Her heartbeat accelerated. You can start the Jag’s engine, back up and drive away, she told herself. Escape before it’s too late. But it was already too late and she knew it. She wanted to be with Reed. To lie in his arms tonight and look up at the starry sky. She wanted to make love with him again.

  He knocked on her closed window and motioned for her to get out. The sun had disappeared beyond the horizon, leaving streaks of multicolored light spreading across the sky. At sundown the world took on a hazy, golden glow, a surreal beauty that masked the ugliness so clearly seen in the bright light of day.

  She looked out the window. He carried a blanket draped over his arm and a small tape player in his hand. More cool jazz? she wondered. As long as she lived, whenever she heard a saxophone’s sweet moan, she’d think of Reed and the night she’d spent in his arms. Hurriedly she unlocked her door, stuffed her keys into the pocket of her shorts and got out of the car. Before she had a chance to close the door, Reed draped his free arm around her waist and dragged her up against him. He kissed her thoroughly, taking her breath away in the process. How was it possible that when this man touched her, she lost every ounce of common sense she possessed?

  ‘Come on, babe, let’s find a perfect spot to spread this blanket.’

  She closed her car door, clasped Reed’s hand and followed where he led. Off behind the huge live oaks and into a clearing close to where the winding stream joined the nearby creek. A train’s horn blew in the distance. The railroad tracks spanned a nearby bridge. Here with Reed, on the back side of the park, she had indeed crossed over from the right side of the tracks to the wrong side. Streets lined with houses that were little more than shacks lay on the other side of this hidden grove. Reed had grown up in one of those houses. His mother and sister still lived there.

  Reed spread the blanket on the ground, then set the tape player to the side and pushed the ‘Play’ button. Soft and low, a jazz tune began, a sweet reminder of last night.

  Why was she so nervous? It wasn’t as if she and Reed hadn’t been together before. They had been – yesterday, last night and again early this morning.

  ‘I spoke to Daddy, and he’s agreed to talk to Frank Nelson about reopening the Blalock murder case,’ Ella said.

  ‘You’re kidding,’ Reed laughed.

  ‘No, I’m not kidding.’ Ella sat on the blanket, crossing her legs at the ankles. ‘When I saw you earlier today, you didn’t mention that my father paid you a visit this morning.’

  ‘I’m surprised he mentioned it to you.’ Reed lay flat on his back and crossed his arms behind his head.

  ‘He said that when he hit you, you didn’t hit him back. I think by showing him that you could control your temper, you impressed Daddy.’

  ‘I seriously doubt that I impressed Webb Porter,’ Reed said. ‘He’s just pacifying you, Ella, if he’s told you that he’ll help me.’

  Ella stretched out beside Reed and looked up at the sky. With sundown, night-time hurried to take charge, darkening the sky and cooling the temperature. The moon appeared, pale and almost transparent.

  ‘Think what you will,’ she said. ‘But I know my father. If he said he’ll speak to Frank Nelson, he will.

  ‘Whatever you say, babe.’ He eased up, bracing himself on one elbow as he leaned over her. ‘Right now, I don’t want to talk about the chief of police or your daddy.’

  ‘What do you want to do?’ she asked, her body already tightening with anticipation.

  ‘I want to kiss you, Miss Ella,’ he told her.

  ‘Is that all you want to do, just kiss me?’

  ‘That will be enough to start with; then I’m sure we’ll think of what to do next.’

  ‘I’m sure we will.’

  Webb Porter sat alone in his den, a bottle of bourbon resting beside his chair and an empty glass in his hand. The armchair stood near the window, positioned with one arm to the window and the other to the room. There had been a time when harming Webb would never have been an option. But that time had long since passed. Perhaps, by being very careful and taking precise aim, the shot wouldn’t kill him but only severely wound him. Reed Conway had been alone in the room above the garage less than twenty minutes ago, so it stood to reason he was still there. Alone. Without an alibi. Whether the bullet killed Webb or merely wounded him, the mission would be accomplished. Reed would be charged with a crime and sent back to prison, thus ending any chances of having the old Blalock murder case reopened.

  I must be very careful. Can’t let Webb see a shadow outside the window. Wait for the right moment … when he turns this way. I must make the shot count. I can’t risk two shots. Webb might see me. And if he lives, he could identify me. Take a deep breath. Count to ten, then aim and pull the trigger. This close, I can’t miss.

  Something was wrong. Horribly wrong. The moment Ella saw the flashing lights of the police cars in her driveway, her heart caught in her throat. Oh, God, please, let everyone be all right.

  She whizzed her Jag around the corner, then came to a screeching halt at the edge of the sidewalk. Frank Nelson stood on the front porch talking to two uniformed policemen. The moment he saw Ella jump out of her car, he came down the front steps and onto the brick walkway to meet her.

  ‘What’s happened?’ she asked.

  Frank grasped her shoulders. ‘It’s bad. I won’t try to kid you. Your father’s been shot, but he’s alive.’

  Ella gasped. Tears lodged in her throat. ‘How? When? Who?’

  ‘About an hour ago,’ Frank said. ‘Your mother and Viola heard the shot and Miss Carolyn sent Viola downstairs to see what had happened. Viola found Webb and called nine-one-one immediately.’

  ‘You said it was bad – how bad?’

  ‘He got hit in the chest, pretty close to his heart,’ Frank told her. ‘They rushed him straight to Bryant County Hospital. One of my boys can drive you over there right now.’
<
br />   ‘Thank you, Frank.’

  He nodded, then released her.

  ‘Oh, Lord,’ Ella cried. ‘Mother! She must be out of her mind with worry. I’ll have to see her before I leave.’

  ‘Viola has taken Miss Carolyn to the hospital,’ Frank said. ‘She insisted on going. She’s upset, but holding it together pretty good. You know what a strong woman your mother is.’

  Ella nodded again.

  ‘Goodman!’ Frank called out, and a dark-haired policeman in his mid-twenties came running.

  ‘Yes, Chief?’

  ‘I want you to drive Judge Porter to Bryant County Hospital.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Officer Goodman turned to Ella. ‘Ready whenever you are, ma’am.’

  She followed the officer to his patrol car. When he opened the door, she slid onto the front seat. He eased the vehicle out into the street and headed toward downtown Spring Creek. None of this seemed real. But it was real. Someone had shot her father. But who? And why? Please, God, don’t let him die. The very thought was unbearable. Since her earliest memories, Webb Porter had been the center of her world – a doting father, who called her ‘princess’ and made her feel like one.

  She wished she could phone Reed and tell him that she needed him desperately. Odd that he was the one person she wanted at a time like this. But even if he would be willing to come to the hospital and hold her hand – which she doubted he would – he would hardly be welcomed by her family. They’d probably even accuse him of shooting her father. But they’d be wrong. No one knew better than she that this was one crime Reed Conway most definitely hadn’t committed.

  24

  After taking a hefty swig, Reed set his beer bottle on the bar. He would have liked nothing better than for Ella to have spent the night in his arms, but that wasn’t possible. She had a reputation to uphold, and for now, their affair had to remain a secret. He was willing to accept her terms. Hell, he’d accept her on any terms, take her any way he could get her. Chuckling to himself, he shook his head. He’d gone and done something really stupid. He had let himself get emotionally involved with Webb Porter’s daughter. Why her, of all the women in the world? She wasn’t the most beautiful, didn’t have a built-like-a-brick-shithouse body, wasn’t even the sexiest. But there was something about her that gave him a hard-on just thinking about her. She had the blackest, silkiest hair, the kindest brown eyes, the softest, sweetest lips and a luscious, tempting body. And when he touched her, he set her on fire. He could tell by the way she looked at him that she was crazy about him. And God help him if he wasn’t just as crazy about her.

  The bartender scowled at a group of particularly rowdy customers at the far end of the bar. ‘Hey, there, you guys keep it down for a minute, will you? I’m trying to listen to this news bulletin.’ He turned up the sound on the wall-mounted television.

  Reed glanced at the screen just as a picture of Webb Porter appeared. He lifted his beer and moved down the bar, getting closer to the TV.

  ‘Tonight at approximately nine o’clock, Senator Webb Porter was critically wounded. At this time details are sketchy, but Spring Creek Police Chief Frank Nelson, informed us that there was a single gunshot wound to the chest and that the shooter stood outside the senator’s den window and shot him from no more than ten feet away. The senator was rushed to Bryant County Hospital, where at this time the family and close friends are holding a prayer vigil.’

  Reed laid a five-dollar bill on the bar beside his half-finished beer and headed for the door. His first instinct was to rush to the hospital, to see how Ella was doing. Had she gone home and found her father? Had the police already been there when she arrived? She had to be half out of her mind with worry. Ella loved her daddy better than anything.

  As he walked outside, the warm evening air clung to him, heavy with moisture and heat. Sweat broke out on his face immediately. He wiped his forehead with his hand and headed toward his truck. He unlocked the door, opened it, then hopped up and slid behind the wheel. Sitting inside the truck, with the door open and his crossed arms resting on the steering wheel, he gave his jumbled thoughts time to separate and settle into something vaguely resembling logic. Should he rush to the hospital to comfort Ella? Would she even want him there? Or should he drive over to his mother’s place and see if she’d heard the news. He wasn’t sure just what his mother’s relationship with Webb Porter had been, whether he was Regina’s father or not, but he knew his mother had cared about the man. Maybe she still did.

  After slamming the door, he stuck the key in the switch and started the engine. Still considering his options, he pulled out of the parking lot. Go see your mother first, he told himself. That would give him more time to make the right decision. He could always just call the hospital and ask to speak to Ella.

  Within five minutes, he pulled the truck to a stop in his mother’s driveway. The lights were on in the house, so that meant she was still up. He got out and headed straight for the porch. When he knocked on the closed front door, Regina answered.

  ‘Reed, come on in,’ his sister said. ‘Have you heard the news about Senator Porter?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s the reason I dropped by. I wanted to find out if y’all had heard.’

  ‘Mama and I were listening to the ten o’clock news.’ Regina grasped Reed’s shirtfront and whispered, ‘She’s awfully upset. I haven’t seen her this torn apart since … I think she loves Webb Porter. She’s gone to the bathroom to wash her face. She’s been crying.’

  ‘What do you know about Mama and the senator?’ Reed asked.

  ‘Nothing really. But I saw them kissing, only yesterday. Tell me the truth, Reed, is Webb Porter my father?’

  Damn! He’d never understood why his mother hadn’t just told Regina who her father was, why she’d protected the guy who’d gotten her pregnant and never claimed his child. For years, he’d wondered if Webb Porter was Regina’s father, and he’d even considered the possibility that Jeff Henry Carlisle might be. And when his mother had married Junior Blalock, he’d even thought that maybe Junior was Regina’s father.

  ‘I honestly don’t know,’ Reed said. ‘I think there’s a possibility that Webb is your father, but I’ve got no proof, and Mama’s never breathed a word to me.’

  ‘I know you were just a little kid when I was born, but don’t you remember if there was a man she was seeing?’

  ‘Haven’t we had this conversation before? The only men Mama was around on a regular basis in the months before you were born were Jeff Henry Carlisle and Webb Porter. And that was because she worked for the Carlisles then, just as she does now.’

  Regina nodded, a look of resignation on her face. ‘I’ll go tell Mama you’re here.’

  But Judy entered the living room at that precise moment, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed. ‘Reed?’

  ‘Yes, Mama.’

  ‘Have you heard about Webb?’

  ‘Yeah, I heard.’

  ‘Who would do such a terrible thing?’

  ‘A man in politics is bound to have enemies,’ Reed said. Then he had a sobering thought. Hell, he was one of those enemies. Yeah, you are, buddy boy, and sooner or later, if they don’t find their shooter, the police are going to come knocking on your door. But this time there would be no weapon with his fingerprints on it, no weapon with which he could be connected. Besides, he had an alibi. Scratch the alibi. No way would Ella Porter publicly admit that she’d been screwing him in the park when somebody shot her father. But other than no alibi, there was nothing to link him to this crime. What about motive? The police would believe he had a motive, wouldn’t they?

  And if Mark’s theory was correct – that Junior’s real killer was trying to get him sent back to prison – then it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that he could get framed for Webb’s shooting.

  ‘The police will question you,’ Judy said. ‘I know you didn’t shoot Webb, but I hope you have an alibi.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me. I was with a friend.’

 
‘Good.’ Judy took a tissue from the pocket of her slacks and blew her nose. ‘I wish I could go to the hospital and find out how Webb is doing, but—’

  ‘Why can’t you go?’ Reed asked. ‘You’ve been a family friend for years, haven’t you? I’ll bet there are dozens of people there, people who don’t know the Porters half as well as you do.’

  ‘I couldn’t go,’ Judy replied. ‘What would people think?’

  ‘I’m going over there,’ Reed said. ‘You could go with me.’

  ‘What?’ Judy’s eyes widened. ‘Why would you go to the hospital to check on Webb? You hate the man. Besides, you know you wouldn’t be welcome there.’

  ‘I’m going because despite how I feel about Webb Porter, he’s Ella’s father.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Judy said, a puzzled look in her eyes.

  ‘Ella Porter was the friend I was with tonight.’

  Regina gasped. ‘You and Eleanor Porter? I don’t believe it. When did this happen?’

  ‘Recently,’ Reed admitted. ‘Very recently.’

  ‘You can’t mean that you and Ella are … are … You’re seeing her socially?’ Judy asked.

  Reed laughed. ‘Let’s just say that we’re involved, and leave it at that.’

  ‘Don’t go to the hospital tonight,’ Judy said. ‘No matter what’s going on between you and Ella, those people aren’t going to want you there with them. They’ll tell you to leave.’