Beverly Barton - The Outcast

Elizabeth turned left onto the highway; the Chevy followed. She couldn't make out the driver's identity, but she could tell that he was the sole occupant.

"Chris, do you know someone who drives an old, ragged blue Chevrolet?"

"Why?" Chris started to turn around.

"Don't look right now, but I think somebody's following us."

"Who would be following us?"

"I have no idea." Elizabeth speeded up just a little. The car behind her speeded up enough to keep them in sight. "Turn toward me and act as if you're talking, then catch a quick glimpse of the car behind us.''

Chris followed Elizabeth's instructions. Gasping, she jerked around quickly. "It's Harry Gunn!"

"Reece's stepfather?"

"The man is scum. No, he's worse than scum. He makes my skin crawl."

"Why would he be following us?"

"I have no idea... unless-"

"Unless what?" Elizabeth asked.

"Unless he's been following me to see if I'd lead him to Reece. He knows that I hired Gary to defend Reece, that I offered to put up bail for him before the judge denied bail. Harry Gunn knows that I'm one of the few people in Newell who believes Reece is innocent."

"So Mr. Gunn thinks if he follows you, you'll lead him to Reece, and he wants Reece handed over to the sheriff. Right?"

"Harry Gunn would like to see Reece dead." Chris pulled her shoulder bag across her stomach, holding it close to her beige wool coat. "I think Reece's stepfather killed Daddy and framed Reece. He hated Daddy even more than he hated Reece."

"I want to talk to Mr. Gunn," Elizabeth said.

"No! You mustn't. He's dangerous!" Chris clutched Elizabeth by the arm.

Elizabeth pulled the car off the road into a service station located in the middle of a minimall. Killing the engine, she opened her door. The old Chevy pulled in on the opposite side of the service station.

"Stay here," Elizabeth said. "If I can get close enough to him, I should be able to sense something. If he killed your father, maybe I can pick that up."

"Elizabeth!" Flinging open the door, Chris jumped out, following Elizabeth as she marched toward Harry Gunn's old car.

The man was slumped down in the seat, the bill of a ball cap covering his eyes. Elizabeth knocked on the window. Harry Gunn shoved the ball cap up and looked out the window at Elizabeth. Her stomach flip-flopped. The man, probably no more than his mid-fifties, appeared much older. His gray hair had thinned to baldness in the front, his complexion was sallow and a week's growth of scraggly beard covered his face.

Harry Gunn rolled down his window. "Yeah? Something I can do for you?"

Overwhelmed by the smell of liquor and stale body odor, Elizabeth stepped back, bumping into Christina.

"I don't know where Reece is," Chris said. "Stop following me or I'll call the police."

When Harry Gunn laughed, he showed a mouthful of yellowed, chipped teeth. "Go ahead and call 'em. I'll tell them you're hiding that bastard half brother of yours."

Elizabeth sensed the hatred. She felt the evil, the cruel, malevolent energy surrounding Harry Gunn. Seldom, if ever, had she felt such wickedness. She could not probe past the wickedness into Harry's thoughts.

"Reece Landry is an innocent man," Elizabeth said. "He has friends who will not allow him to pay for a crime he didn't commit."

"Who are you, sister? You don't look like any of the Stantons' highfalutin friends or any of Reece's good-time gals."

"She's my friend, and... and a psychic who had a vision about Daddy's murder. She's come to Newell to help us find the real murderer," Christina said. "She believes in Reece's innocence."

"Well, then, she's as big a fool as you are." Gunn grinned, tobacco spittle dripping from the side of his mouth. "Reece is no good. He never was. I tried my best to beat some sense into him, but all he ever gave me was trouble. He killed B.K., all right. The whole town knows it. And I'm just sorry they didn't give him the death sentence."

Harry rolled up his window, started the old Chevy's engine and backed out of the service station.

Chris grabbed Elizabeth by the arm. "Can you imagine being raised by a man like that? Reece's life must have been a living hell."

Elizabeth covered Chris's hand, patting her gently. "I believe that man is capable of anything, even murder!"

Chapter 10

Elizabeth felt uncomfortable wearing Christina Stanton's designer dress, and even more uncomfortable surrounded by the emotions of a family who despised Reece Landry. A sense of panic began growing inside Elizabeth during the formal dinner when Christina introduced her as a new friend and a psychic who had predicted she would marry Gary Elkins. Tracy and Kenny had seemed amused, Alice Stanton disgusted at the thought and Willard Moran unconcerned.

Dinner conversation had been light, inconsequential and unrevealing as far as Elizabeth was concerned. Everyone seemed curious about exactly who she was and why Christina had invited her into their home.

After-dinner coffee was served in the elegant, austere living room, where Alice Stanton sat on the gold brocade Sheraton sofa and stared at Elizabeth.

"Where do you live, Ms. Mallory?" Alice asked, her faded blue eyes shaded by half-closed lids. "Would I possibly be acquainted with any of your people?"

"Elizabeth is-" Christina said.

"I'm from a small town in the northern part of the state." Elizabeth didn't have to be psychic to sense Mrs. Stanton's snobbery or her discomfort at having an undesirable stranger in her home. "And I'm quite sure you wouldn't know anyone in my family."

"How long have you been practicing this psychic stuff?" Tracy Burton Stanton, long and lean, with huge brown eyes and a halo of strawberry blond curls, smiled at Elizabeth, who wondered how someone with such a sharp, hawk nose could turn it up with such expert ease.

Christina gasped, then glared at her sister-in-law, silently chastising her for being rude to a guest.

"I've been psychic all my life, Ms. Stanton, but my abilities became very apparent when I was about six years old." Elizabeth held the delicate china cup and saucer in her hand, wishing she had declined the offer of coffee.

"How did you and Chris meet?" Kenny sipped his coffee with the same precise movements his mother used, an almost feminine flair to his actions.

"In Gary's office," Christina said, glancing at Elizabeth for approval.'' She... Elizabeth had a vision recently. A vision about Daddy's murder."

"What?" The cup in Alice Stanton's trembling hand quivered.

Murmurs rose around the room. Kenny set his cup on a nearby table. Tracy sat up straight, her eyes widening, her face turning pale. Seated beside Alice on the sofa, Willard Moran placed his arm around her shoulders.

Overwhelmed by the whirlwind of emotions Christina's revelation had stirred up, Elizabeth gripped the arm of her Queen Anne chair and very slowly set her cup on the marble-topped mahogany coffee table. She tried desperately to sort through the myriad feelings coming from the people in the room, but the strength of their emotions collided, creating chaos in Elizabeth's mind.

Standing beside Elizabeth's chair, Christina glanced down, then leaned over and whispered, "Are you all right?"

"I can't separate their emotions. Their energies are mingled together." Elizabeth breathed deeply, willing herself under control. The bombardment began to ebb as she shielded herself.

"What sort of vision did you have about Daddy's death?" Kenny, short and squarely built like his mother, stood behind the sofa, stroking the fine brocade cloth with the tips of his perfectly manicured fingernails.

"I won't have this sacrilege in my house." Alice Stanton, her sagging, hound-dog cheeks flushing profusely, straightened her spine and shrugged off Willard Moran's comforting arm. "This psychic business is evil and I'll have none of it."