Karen Whiddon - The Texan's Return

They showed the dead girl’s picture, culled from Facebook. Slender, her pert nose covered in freckles. Blond hair, blue eyes. She could have been Brenda’s twin.

Pain slammed into her, followed by disbelief. Not again, not again. How was it possible that such an atrocity had been allowed to reoccur after an entire decade had passed?

Finally she sucked in a gasp of air, then another. And then she remembered. Gus Morrison. Mac had brought him back to town. The killer had been freed, and he’d killed again.

Her surroundings spun as she battled to maintain her bearings. Though Mac had claimed his father was sick, the timing was just too awful to be a coincidence. Gus goes to prison and no more killings. Gus is released and bam. Another young girl loses her life. Another family is torn apart.

Feeling physically ill, she reached for the phone. She needed to alert the police, to let them know a monster had returned to their midst. Though they probably already knew, she’d feel better checking, just in case.

As her fingers connected with the receiver, the phone rang. Though she didn’t recognize the number, she answered anyway. “Hello?”

“Hailey? Have you seen the news?”

She would have recognized the voice anywhere. Ice and heat simultaneously coursed through her veins. “Mac.” Her throat closed, making it impossible to say anything else.

“I take it you’ve heard another girl has been murdered.”

This time, she managed to croak a response. “Yes.”

“It’s horrible. I considered calling you this morning, but I figured you needed time to process it. I wanted to let you know, I’m going to talk to the police. I’m hoping they’ll consider reopening the investigation into your sister’s murder.”

Whatever she might have expected him to say, it hadn’t been this. “I don’t understand. Why would they do that? The case was solved. They got a conviction.”

“Don’t you see? If anything, this proves my father didn’t kill Brenda.”

Stunned, she wasn’t sure how to respond. She’d always known Mac believed his father to be innocent. But this...

She replied the only way she could, letting her own emotions show. “Does it? Does it really? Because from where I sit, it’s the opposite. No one was killed while your dad was in prison. He gets out, and immediately there’s another murder. It doesn’t take a police detective to figure that out.”

Silence. Then, he sighed. “He’s not capable of hurting anyone, Hailey. He’s really ill. I promised him I’d try to clear his name. Now that someone else has been killed, the police might be more inclined to look at Brenda’s murder again.”

She felt like she was living a nightmare. “If you get them to reopen the case, then that will stir everything up again. My brothers and sister don’t remember any of this, and June...” She swallowed hard. “June drinks.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No.” Deep breath. And again. “You aren’t. You couldn’t be, since all of this is your fault. I don’t understand why you brought him back here. How can you be so blind?”

“You need to come over and see him. Come see for yourself.”

Clearly, he hadn’t carefully considered his words or how they’d affect her. Or maybe he’d lost his mind. “No, I don’t. I don’t feel the need to ever lay eyes on that man again.”

“He’s dying, Hailey,” Mac repeated, his voice breaking.

She steeled her heart, quashing the rush of pity she felt at his words. “So you say. But as long as he’s still alive, I can’t feel safe. Nor should any other female in this town.” The harshness of her words made her inwardly wince, but she didn’t call them back or apologize. She only spoke the truth, whether or not Mac wanted to hear it.

“That’s why you need to come. See for yourself. You’ll know he’s not well enough to have done this.” He inhaled sharply, making her remember the old way he’d given her warning that she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say. “I’d never have pegged you for a coward, Hailey. Clearly I was wrong.”

He ended the call before she could respond.

Staring at the phone, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and throw the damn thing against the wall. Coward.

She fumed all through dinner, his words echoing over and over in his head. He knew, of course, that she’d taken real pride in her courage, her ability to face the greatest challenges head-on. This belief in her own ability had been necessary to help her get through the dark days after Brenda’s death. She’d had no choice but to pull herself together and step into the shoes her mother had vacated. She’d been the glue that held their small family together, with no real adult guidance.

She’d done the best she could. She still did. Every single day. A coward, she was not.

But for Mac—someone she hadn’t seen or talked to since she’d been seventeen—to blatantly try to use this word to compel her to do what he wanted—struck her as pretty low. Lower than low, actually.

Yet she still hadn’t broached the subject of the most recent murder with the kids. So maybe part of her was a coward. She knew she had to tell them, eventually. But they needed to get to enjoy their meal first.

“Are you all right?” Tara, usually completely absorbed with her phone, eyed her. “You seem... Are you mad about something?”

Her twin, Tom, snorted and kept shoveling macaroni and cheese into his mouth. Ever since the previous year when he’d turned thirteen, he could eat as much as all of them put together. Growing boy.

Eli, the youngest at eleven, continued eating, too, though he paused long enough to frown up at her. “Are you getting sick?” He twisted his mouth at her. “At school Jody Peirce said his mom says your boyfriend was back in town.” He cocked his head, eyeing her with open curiosity. Tara and Tom both swung their gaze to her, waiting for her answer.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she countered, even though hearing another child had said this to her brother made her fume. “Ya’ll know that. When would I have time to date anyone?”

Eli shrugged. She thought that might be the end of it, but Eli wasn’t done. “Jody said he was your old boyfriend. From back when you were in high school.”

Tom and Tara exchanged looks at this. “Whoa,” Tara said. “Is this that hot guy who was in all your old photo albums?”

“What were you doing snooping through my things?” Best to counterattack rather than give a direct answer. “Those photo albums were locked up.”

“In that beat-up old hope chest in your room.” Scorn dripped from Tara’s voice. “The lock is so old and rusty, a paper clip opened it.”

“Tara Jean...”

“What? I wanted to see what you looked like back when you were young.”

Ouch. That stung.

“And I saw your old boyfriend. So what? I didn’t hurt anything. I put everything back exactly where you left it.”

“That isn’t the point,” Hailey began. Before she could finish, their mother shuffled into the kitchen and headed for the refrigerator. Opening it, she perused the contents. Finally, she grabbed the orange juice and began drinking it, straight from the carton.

Both Hailey and Tara winced.

“Do you want any dinner, Mom?” Hailey asked. “I made tuna casserole with macaroni and cheese and peas.” She made this often because it was one of the best ways she knew to stretch dollars to feed them for a couple of days. Except with the way Tom ate these days, they’d be lucky to have enough to have again tomorrow.

“Not that.” June viewed the casserole dish with scorn. “I’ll just have some cereal.”

Except if she did, there wouldn’t be enough milk for the kids to have breakfast tomorrow. With the ease of habit, Hailey moved to intercept and redirect her. “You need protein, Mom. Tuna has lots of protein.”