Head shots, showing the final agonies.
Faces pleading. Mouths wide. Screaming for the man with the knife to stop.
Leigh gagged, vomit lurched in her throat. She felt herself fold at the knees. She collapsed on the sofa.
“Wowww…,” breathed Mattie. “We gotta get outa here…But wait a minute, there’s something else. A letter…”
Leigh looked over Mattie’s shoulder at the bunch of creased, handwritten pages she was holding.
And read the words:
“I, Edith Payne, hereby…”
My
Quietly, the door opened.
FORTY-NINE
“Why, ladies. This
“Mace, I’m sorry…”
“Oh, don’t be sorry, honey. I don’t mind you sneaking in here. Poking through my private things—”
“Wasn’t Leigh’s fault, Mace,” Mattie broke in calmly. “
“Came along for the ride, huh?” A corner of his mouth lifted. But he wasn’t amused. His eyes were cold, dark as bottomless pits. Whatever it was he felt, he was holding it in. Keeping everything under control.
As always.
“So, Leigh. Thought you’d nose around, did you? Time you knew anyway. Time you paid the price. Finally. After…what is it now? Eighteen, nineteen years?”
“What d’ya mean, Mace? Eighteen, nineteen years?” Her heart lurched. Damn right she knew what he meant. What was he, Charlie’s avenging angel, or what?
Mace relaxed a little, easing into the game, getting conversational. “Read it,” he said. “And watch it all make sense, baby. Just a little reminder of that wonderful summer, all of those years ago.”
Slowly, Leigh took the letter from him. Meanwhile, Mattie’s eyes considered Mace. She was tense, ready to pounce if need be. One false move and she’d drop him. She knew she could, but she also knew that Mace was on the alert. She held still. Waiting.
“Go on, sweetheart. Read it. Put some coffee on, Mattie. We could be here for some time.”
He set himself down, legs astride a hardback chair. Grinning. Watching Leigh. Enjoying her discomfort.
“Hey, baby. Don’t mind me. Settle back in that easy chair, why don’t ya? Just want to see your pretty li’l face when you read what Deana’s granmama has to say!”
Mattie glanced at Leigh. Her eyes said, “You okay?”
Leigh nodded, briefly.
She sat on the edge of Mace’s armchair. With trembling lips, she looked at the yellowed pages. Ma Payne had a good hand. Legible. Of the old-fashioned copperplate school. Charlie said she’d been a teacher…
Leigh drew a deep breath. Quickly, her eyes scanned the pages, scarcely believing what she read: