Anybody's Child - Michelle Kidd (icecream ebook reader txt) 📗

any of you he might be hurt?” Beth defended. “Maybe whoever did this to Mom, got Uncle Mike too.”

Her dad set the fork down and gave her a measured look. “Beth, I appreciate your loyalty, but . . .”

Beth watched him weigh his words. She imagined the gears shifting inside his head, measuring the correct response.

“. . . there are circumstances . . . things I’m not at liberty to discuss.”

“Circumstances—not at liberty . . . Dad, come on! This is my life. Mom’s life!” Beth slammed down the fork. “Don’t handle me like one of your—”

“Keep your voice down, young lady. I’m still your father. I don’t appreciate your tone. I realize you’re under a lot of strain, but let me handle it.”

“It’s like you don’t even care he’s missing. I bet you’re glad he’s gone. It takes the suspicion off you.” Instantly, she slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, Dad, I’m sorry. I—” The words had left their mark. Nothing she said would make it right.

“Look,” he said finally. “I get it. We’re both under a lot of pressure right now.”

They stared at one another, the silence mounting. How she wished the floor would open up and swallow her. Dad’s image blurred in a cloud of gathering tears. She felt like a fool, especially when he took his big calloused hand and awkwardly brushed away the tear slipping down her cheek.

His chair scraped the floor as he stood. “Turn the lights out when you’re done, Bethy.”

Beth wanted to stop him, tell him not to go; instead, she dropped her head into her hands. What was wrong with her? What she should have said was, they suspected her too. But what she’d done was practically accused him. And defended Uncle Mike.

What just happened? How had everything become so complicated? Her father didn’t have anything to do with this, so why had she made it sound like she thought he did? What did Dad know? Did he have proof—if so, what? For the life of her, she didn’t see how any of this connected. She closed her eyes and laid her forehead on the table. If only she could ask Mom why—and then it struck her. The diary!

Several times Mom’s words about the book returned to her, but there were so many other things pulling her in different directions it kept slipping her mind. What if it held the key?

The words hadn’t seemed ominous at the time. If anything should happen . . . everything written down . . . Beth thought Mom meant if she should ever get sick. Perhaps there were important papers or something Beth needed to know about. Certainly, nothing for her to worry about while Mom was alive. But what if her mom had realized someone was after her? That would explain the odd behavior. Had she sensed someone was going to kill her? Why not go to the police? Why not tell Dad—unless . . .

Honestly! She was going to give herself a headache.

Knowing Mom, she’d stashed the book someplace no one but Beth would ever go. Beth racked her brain. Mom joked about her lack of direction, but she wouldn’t have hidden it in the car—too small.

She pushed the aluminum pie plate away in frustration. All this stupid food. Once again, she wondered how three people would ever eat it all. The freezer was packed now, and she’d be the one left to clean it all out.

Wait! She’d be the one—not Dad. Mom always joked about the mysterious ball of foil. Beth practically turned the chair over in her haste to get to the freezer.

She stopped short of pulling the handle, straining for sounds her father might still be up. When her ears met with silence, she jerked the door open and began removing baking dishes, meat, frozen vegetables. She shoved them to the counter. Freezer burn would ruin the food long before they got around to eating it. She dug until she reached the oddly shaped ball of tin buried at the very back.

Slowly, as if the thing were made of gold and not aluminum, she withdrew it and held it to her chest. You’ll feel silly if it’s just a frozen meatloaf. But something was different about it. She sensed it.

Unable to wait any longer, Beth tore into the packet, ripping away the foil as if it were wrapping paper on Christmas morning. Once the layers of foil were removed, it revealed a leather-bound journal, thick and bulging with paper. It had a binder, the kind that hinged, allowing pages to be added and removed. The diary burned Beth’s hands, despite having taken it from the cold. This was from her mom. She trembled as she opened the cover to read the first page.

To my darling girl,

 

My heart aches to think this day has arrived, as I know my past will have caught up with me. It can only mean I am gone, and you are searching for answers.

When I began this journal, you were a little girl. I intended it to be an explanation, but as I fill the pages, I realize it has become therapeutic for me, as well. You deserve the truth and motives for my secrecy.

It’s important you understand how much I love you and your sister. I’ve had to hide so much in my life that it’s hard to keep it all straight anymore. But my love for you, your father, and Mindy is the absolute truth—that is real!

I feared I would never see you reach adulthood as my sins would, more likely, find me out. But I have cherished each and every day with you. Each birthday that passed was a blessing I didn’t deserve.

Although I don’t expect you to understand or forgive me for the choices I made, I would ask you to read with an open heart and perhaps take pity on me once you hear my story from the beginning . . .

Beth slapped the book shut. Her blood turned to ice. Mom might be overprotective, sometimes eccentric, but she was about as close to perfect as a person could be. Hidden sins and secret life? No way!

The neatly penned words had sucked the air from the room. Her knees grew weak. She wanted no parts of this. She could not deal with it now—perhaps—not ever. She refused to let anything mar the memory of her mom.

With shaking hands, she hastily piled everything back into the freezer and closed the door. She shoved the journal under her pajama top. Just because she didn’t have the courage to read it, didn’t mean she would leave it behind. After all, it belonged to Mom. The icy cold sent shivers across her bare skin. Beth wasn’t sure if she trembled from the chill of the diary or from the fear of what secrets rested inside its pages.

Chapter 17 – Raven

Raven opened the front door and stepped onto the porch. She stamped her feet and rubbed her arms vigorously as she cursed her luck. Heavy frost blanketed the ground, giving the appearance of snow in the bluish-white light of the moon. It illuminated the country landscape like a spotlight setting a stage. Perfect! She might as well have a neon sign that flashed: Here I am. Take me to jail.

Left with no choice but to plow ahead, she tramped down the stairs and headed toward a small tool shed. She paused long enough to unlock the trunk and check over her shoulder for any shadow that seemed out of place. Every nerve in her body tensed with awareness. The odds Dominic would still be in the area were slim, but she couldn’t take chances.

She groped for the gun tucked inside her waistband but came up empty. She must have dropped it in the struggle. No time to go back for it now.

She gripped the keys tighter, feeling them cut into her palm as she marched across the uneven ground. The frozen earth radiated cold through her thin boots, making her toes ache, but she ignored the discomfort. Raven was on a mission.

She reached the wooden structure, slid the key into the padlock, and clicked it open. Every sound echoed in the pre-dawn quiet. She hesitated. The idea of entering the lean-to made her skin crawl. She didn’t want to go in during the daytime, much less at night. Raven hated small places—especially sheds. Once, when she was little, she found herself locked inside the dark for hours. It had seemed an eternity for a four-year-old Rayleen. She pounded and screamed to get out, while her mom lay passed out on the sofa. If it hadn’t been for Frank, her mom’s boyfriend of the month, who knows when her mom would have noticed her missing. Frank had been slightly better than most of the losers Mom brought home, which was probably why he hadn’t stuck around. Lurline Connors had too much baggage, and anyone with any sense didn’t waste much time on them.

Raven would rather go another round with Dominic than have to hunt through the tool shed for what she needed. She avoided it whenever possible. Most of this stuff didn’t even belong to her. It came with the house when she rented it. On occasion when she needed to retrieve a miscellaneous item, she sensed beady-eyed varmints waiting to nip at her ankles. A ripple of revulsion caused her to shudder.

Determined to push through the fear, she squared her shoulders, grabbed the handle, and pulled. The pungent odor of dirt, rotting grass, and gasoline filled her nostrils as the heavy hinges on the door squeaked open. Raven took several calming breaths, tugged the flashlight from her pocket, and shined it into the interior. The beam highlighted specks of dust and the tattered remains of a spider’s web. The ghostly strands danced in the wind. She grimaced, loath to enter. Common sense mocked the childish foolishness. She had bigger issues to deal with than tight quarters and creepy crawlies, but some things stretched the boundaries of rational thought.

Before she had the chance to talk herself out of it, she brushed aside the cobwebs and shined the flashlight around the perimeter from left to right and back for a second look on the ceiling. Toward the rear, she recognized the red handle of the hand truck. Why did the stupid thing have to be so far back? She inched forward and paused often in case she felt the necessity to bolt.

When she made it to the center of the shed, she skirted past a rusted lawn mower, a barrel with lumber sticking out, and several stacked boxes until she was able to reach the cart. She tugged on it, only to find it hung on something. Frantic, she jerked hard, toppling the mountain of crates.

Raven let loose a string of choice words and made up a few more for good measure. Granny always did say she was like a bull in a china shop. Forget the mess. All that mattered was the dolly was free. Leaving the clutter, she pivoted, getting ready to make a break for the door when it suddenly slammed shut. Terrified, she dropped the flashlight, sending light careening around as it bounced and rolled under