“Not a goddamn thing. She just looked at me for several seconds, and then she burst out laughing.” His eyes chilled Alex to the bone when he added raspily, “And you know how I hate having my ideas laughed at.”
“You filthy son of a bitch.”
Simultaneously, they turned toward the intrusive voice. Junior, his face contorted with outrage, was standing in the open doorway. He pointed a shaking, accusatory finger at his father. “You didn’t want me to marry her because you wanted her for yourself! You killed her because she turned down your despicable proposal! You goddamn bastard, you killed her for that!”
The road seemed bumpier than usual. Or maybe she was just hitting all the ruts because her eyes were blurred with tears. Alex fought to keep the Blazer on the road to Reede’s house.
When Junior had launched himself at Angus and begun to beat him with his fists, she had run from the room. She couldn’t stand to watch. Her investigation had turned son against father, friend against friend, and she simply couldn’t stand any more. She had fled.
They’d all been right. They’d tried to warn her, but she had refused to listen. Compelled by guilt, headstrong and fearless, armed to the teeth with an unshakable sense of right and wrong, cheered on by the recklessness of immaturity, she had excavated in forbidden territory and disturbed its sanctity. She had aroused the ire of bad spirits long laid to rest. Against sound counsel, she had kept digging. Now those spirits were protesting, making themselves manifest.
She had been brainwashed to believe that Celina was a fragile heroine, tragically struck down in the full bloom of womanhood, a heartbroken young widow with a newborn infant in her arms, looking out on the cruel world with dismay. Instead, she had been manipulative, selfish, and even cruel to the people who had loved her.
Merle had made her believe that she had been responsible for her mother’s death. With every gesture, word, and deed, whether overt or implied, she had made Alex feel inadequate and at fault.
Well, Merle was wrong. Celina was responsible for her slaying. By an act of will, Alex unburdened herself of all guilt and remorse. She was free! It no longer really mattered to her whose hand had wielded that scalpel. It hadn’t been because of her.
Her first thought was that she must share this sense of freedom with Reede. She parked the Blazer in front of his house, got out, and ran across the porch. At the door, she hesitated and knocked softly. After several seconds, she pulled it open and stepped inside. “Reede?” The house was gloomy and empty.
Moving toward the bedroom, she called his name again, but it was obvious that he wasn’t there. As she turned, she noticed her handbag, lying forgotten on the nightstand. She checked the adjoining bathroom for items she might have left behind, gathered them up, and dropped them into her handbag.
As she snapped it closed, she thought she heard the unfamiliar squeak of the screened front door. She paused and listened. “Reede?” The sound didn’t come again.
Lost in the sweet reverie of the night before, she touched Reede’s things on the nightstand—a pair of sunglasses, a comb that was rarely used, an extra brass belt buckle with the state seal of Texas on it. Her heart swelling with love, she turned to go, but was brought up short.
The woman standing in the doorway of the bedroom had a knife in her hand.
Chapter 46
“What the hell is going on here?”
Reede grabbed Junior’s collar and hauled him off Angus, who was sprawled on the floor. Blood was dribbling down his chin from a cut on his lip. Oddly enough, the old man was laughing.
“Where’d you learn to fight like that, boy, and why haven’t you done it more often?” He sat up and extended his hand to Reede. “Help me up.” Reede, after giving Junior a warning glance, let go of his collar and assisted Angus to his feet.
“One of you want to tell me what the devil that was all about?” Reede demanded.
When the Jeep arrived, he had driven straight to the ranch house, where an anxious Lupe had greeted him at the door with the news that Mr. Minton and Junior were fighting.
Reede had run into the den and found the two men locked in combat, rolling on the floor. Junior had been throwing earnest, but largely ineffective, punches at his father’s head.
“He wanted Celina for himself,” Junior declared, his chest heaving with exertion and fury. “I overheard him telling Alex. He wanted to set Celina up as his mistress. When she said no, he killed her.”
Angus was calmly dabbing at the blood on his chin with a handkerchief. “Do you really believe that, son? Do you think I would sacrifice everything—your mother, you, this place—for that little chippy?”
“I heard you tell Alex that you wanted her.”
“I did, from the belt down, but I didn’t love her. I didn’t like the way she came between you and Reede. I sure as hell wouldn’t gamble away everything else in my life by killing her. I might have felt like it when she laughed at my offer, but I didn’t.” His eyes roved over both the younger men. “My pride was spared when one of you did it for me.”
The three men exchanged uneasy glances. The past twenty-five years had dwindled down to this crucial moment. Until now, none of them had had the courage to pose the question. The truth would have been too painful to bear, so they had let the identity of the murderer remain a mystery.
Their silence had been tacitly agreed upon. It had protected them from knowing who had ended Celina’s life. None had wanted to know.
“I did not kill that girl,” Angus said. “As I told Alex, I gave her the keys to one of the cars and told her to drive herself home. The last time I saw her, she was leaving by the front door.”
“I was upset because she turned me down,” Junior said. “I made the rounds of the beer joints and got shit-faced. I don’t remember where I was or who I was with. But I think I would remember slashing Celina to ribbons.”
“When dessert was passed around I left,” Reede told them. “I spent the night humping Nora Gail. I got to the stable about six that morning. That’s when I found her.”