Vows of Silence. Debra Webb
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the one who didn’t get off without the life sentence.
Lacy shivered at the memory of the terrible bruises, concussion and fractured rib Melinda had suffered at her husband’s hand. Not to mention the years of emotional abuse. It wasn’t bad enough that she’d lost her father mere days before high-school graduation and then her mother when Chuckie was just a baby. She’d been all alone at the mercy of the Ashlands after Lacy and the others left. She’d suffered far too much.
“Sugar or cream?”
Lacy snapped back to the here and now. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“Your tea,” Melinda gestured to the steaming cup. “Do you want sugar or—”
“Sugar is fine,” Lacy said quickly. She had to stay focused. She couldn’t keep zoning out like this. Too many lives depended on the events of the next few days. A clear head was a must. With monumental effort, she slowed her pounding heart and concentrated on leveling out her breathing. If the panic building inside her got a foothold, she would be in serious trouble.
“Chelsea’s going to try out for the junior-high cheerleading squad next year.” Melinda placed the tea and sugar in front of Lacy. Her eyes shone with motherly pride. “The gymnastics coach says she’s a natural. Chuckie’s too academic minded to be concerned with sports, but Chelsea loves it. Dance, cheerleading, you name it. Just like we used to do,” she tacked on with a futile attempt at a smile.
“That’s great.” Lacy tried hard to pay attention as her oldest and dearest friend doted on her children, but the past kept nudging her. Voices, images, emotions. He’s dead. My God, what happened? He’s dead! I didn’t do it. Are you accusing me? It doesn’t matter who did it. It only matters that it’s done. We’re all in this together.
Equally guilty.
Lacy sipped her tea and struggled to zero in on Melinda’s nervous chattering. A sheen of perspiration moistened Lacy’s skin despite her best efforts to tamp down the mounting panic. She resisted the urge to swipe her palms against her thighs.
He’s dead.
Oh, my God. What do we do?
“You just won’t believe how tall he is, but basketball is the farthest thing from his mind,” Melinda gushed. “All he wants to do is read or work at his computer.”
Hold that damned door open. Lacy started, her pulse tripping, as the cold, harsh order reverberated in her head as if it had only just been issued. They had half carried, half dragged Charles’s body down the stairs and into the kitchen. When Lacy had tried to back through the door leading to the garage, she had knocked it shut. She could feel the dead weight of his body even now. He was so heavy. So…lifeless. Even the shower curtain they’d had him wrapped up in couldn’t disguise the feel of death. The door, Lacy, hold the damned door, Cassidy had barked.
Lacy’s hands trembled. She tightened her grip on the dainty white porcelain cup and forced her fingers to still. The hollow thud of the closing trunk lid echoed in her head. She tensed at the remembered sound. They had shoved Charles into the trunk and closed it. Cassidy had driven his Mercedes to the lake, Lacy followed in her rental car…the hastily packed suitcase from Charles’s room in her back seat.
One final glimpse of silver had winked at her as the Mercedes disappeared beneath the water’s murky surface. And then he was gone.
Lacy forced down another sip of her tea, her throat so fiercely dry she could barely swallow. They had thought of everything. When the police investigated and the suitcase and missing clothes from his closet were noticed it would make it look as if Charles had suddenly left town. He had a reputation for drinking and womanizing. No one would ever be the wiser. Cassidy had carefully chosen the deepest and most obscure area of the lake accessible by car. The unexpected and unusually heavy snowfall later that night had hidden any tracks they might have left. When the thaw came, sending the winter blanket melting into the lake, any leftover tracks had eroded as well. Even Mother Nature had been on their side.
We won’t speak of this again. It’s done. We’re in this together. Equally guilty.
It was the perfect cover-up…the perfect crime. Until some fisherman had to go and get himself drowned in the swollen waters of the lake after torrential rains last week. The rescue operation had dredged up more than the poor fisherman.
The cup clattered onto its saucer. Hot tea splashed over Lacy’s hand, and spilled onto the counter’s smooth white surface.
“Damn.” Lacy dabbed at the pool of brown liquid with her napkin.
“It’s all right, I’ve got it.” Melinda quickly mopped up the mess with a hand towel. “Did you burn yourself? I’ll get the aloe.”
Lacy licked the stinging patch of skin at the vee of her thumb and forefinger. “It’s nothing.” She blew out a disgusted breath. She had to pull herself together. “Sorry about the mess.”
Melinda frowned, searching Lacy’s face, then her eyes. Resigned to what she found there, Melinda murmured, “We’re in really big trouble, aren’t we?”
Manufacturing a confident expression, Lacy made a sound of denial in her throat. “’Course not. We’re going to be fine. When Cassidy gets here, she’ll know how to fix everything. She’s a damn good attorney, one of the best in San Francisco. She’ll keep us out of trouble.”
Melinda clasped the damp towel, desperation etching itself across her worried features. She shook her head slowly from side to side in defeat. “For ten years I’ve been free.” She stared down at her hands. “It wasn’t nearly long enough, Lacy. I don’t want to go to prison and not be able to finish raising my children.” She paused to compose herself. “Charles made my life a living nightmare our entire marriage. He took and took and took…” Her voice trailed off as she shook her head again. “I don’t want him to take any more.”
Lacy placed her hand over Melinda’s. “We won’t let that happen.” She swallowed the last of the uncertainty clogging her throat. “I won’t let that happen.”
Tears shining in her eyes, Melinda nodded her agreement. “You’re right. Cassidy will know what to do. We’ll be fine.”
Lacy blinked back the moisture gathering in her own eyes and glanced around the haunting kitchen. Snippets of memories best forgotten flitted like a slide show amid the other whirling thoughts in her head. She could feel the panic surging once more, threatening her own frail composure like the angry waves of the ocean pounding the shore during a violent storm.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” She scooted off her stool and tugged Melinda toward the door. “We need to find some neutral territory.”
“What about the others?” Melinda reminded, hesitant to leave the house.
“We’ll leave them a note.”
Lacy had to get out of this house. She couldn’t stand one more minute of the voices…the images…the memories.
She had to find someplace where she could think. Someplace away from the scene of the crime.
Away from the reality of what they had done one desperate night all those years ago.
Chapter 2
O’Malleys was crowded at five o’clock in the afternoon. The bar that extended the length of the establishment was lined with patrons glad to have the workday behind them. Brightly lit beer signs and the same dancing neon leprechauns added whimsy to the Irish decor Lacy remembered from her senior year in high school. O’Malleys was the place to be even if you were underage and Coca-Cola was the only thing you could order.
Authentic items picked up on the family’s annual trips to their homeland embellished the walls. The barrage of windows that faced the street were shuttered in true Irish style, lending privacy as well as ambience. No big-screen TVs would be found here, only the small one at the bar. People came to O’Malleys for the imported beer, the conversation