The Texan's Return Page 13

  “I called Dolores.”

  “The hospice nurse?” Hailey asked. “I don’t understand.”

  “She has connections,” he said. “Once I told her what happened, she called a friend, who called another friend, and so on. Long story short, there’s a facility near Kingston that has an opening. The admissions director—a lovely woman, according to Dolores—has agreed to hold it until noon tomorrow. It’s actually affordable. And it looks like they accept Medicaid.”

  Stunned and relieved, Hailey briefly closed her eyes. “Which means my mother has to make a decision quickly.”

  “Exactly.” He hesitated. “Hailey, do you want me to go with you to talk to her?”

  “No.” She didn’t even have to think about that one. “That would only make her more agitated. I’ll run over there right after I take the kids to school. Let Gus know I’m going to be late.”

  “Late?” Mac snorted. “I’m going to tell Gus you won’t be here at all. Take the day off. Heck, since tomorrow’s Thursday, I don’t expect to see you until Monday. You’ll need that time to get your mother moved and settled.”

  And here came the tears again. She cleared her throat before speaking, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate it more than you know.”

  “No problem. And, Hailey?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll miss you. If you need company, anytime, day or night, call me. I’ll be there as quick as I can.”

  “You can’t leave Gus,” she pointed out. “I’d feel terrible if something happened to him because of me.”

  “He wouldn’t be alone. Like I said, I called Dolores. She told me she’d be willing to sit with Gus if I needed to be with you. In fact, she insisted.”

  Suddenly, irrationally, Hailey wanted nothing more than to ask Mac to come over and hold her in his arms. Of course, she didn’t.

  “That’s really nice of her,” she said. “And I promise I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “You do that. And, Hailey, don’t forget to call me.”

  After finishing the call, she wandered back into the living room. The talent show was just wrapping up. All three young faces swiveled to look at her.

  “Well?” Tara demanded, when it became clear Hailey wasn’t going to volunteer information.

  “Mac thinks he’s found Mother a rehab place she can go to. I’m going to discuss it with her in the morning.”

  Though they all nodded, Tara especially looked disappointed.

  “What’s wrong?” Hailey asked.

  “I was hoping you had a date.” The wistfulness in her younger sister’s expression was the only thing that kept Hailey from laughing.

  “Now’s not the right time,” she said instead.

  “But it is,” Tara responded. “It’s exactly the right time. You need someone to take you out, distract you from all this and treat you like a princess.”

  Tom snorted. Eli looked from one sister to the other, his eyes huge.

  “What I need is Mom to agree to go to rehab. Nothing more, nothing less.” Stifling a yawn, Hailey glanced longingly toward her bedroom. But she couldn’t go to bed before her siblings. If she did, they’d stay up until midnight and not understand why they couldn’t get up in the morning.

  Settling back into her spot on the couch, she prayed she could stay awake until ten.

  Chapter 10

  When Hailey walked into her mother’s hospital room in the morning, June had just finished breakfast. The yellow cast to her pale skin and the dark shadows under her eyes testified to the beating her body had taken due to the combination of pills and alcohol she’d consumed the day before.

  “Good morning,” Hailey said, trying for cheerful.

  June winced. “I feel like death.”

  “You should. You’re lucky to be alive.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic.” After picking up her juice, June took a couple of deep swallows. “That would be so much better if they’d spike it with vodka.”

  Grimly determined, Hailey pulled up a chair. “Mom, we need to talk.”

  “Not about that money again. I’m tired of hearing you whine about that.”

  Ignoring the flash of anger that shot through her at her mother’s words was hard. But Hailey did it. She reminded herself to focus. “No, not about the money. You almost killed yourself yesterday. Your children—all of them—walked in and saw their mother almost lifeless in the bathtub.”

  June pursed her lips but didn’t speak.

  Taking this as encouragement, Hailey rushed on. “You need help. Treatment.”

  “Like rehab?”

  “Yes.” Bracing herself for the protest, Hailey couldn’t believe it when June nodded.

  “I’ve looked into it, you know,” June said, her voice soft and sad. “It’s too expensive. People like us can’t afford that.”

  “Actually, it looks like your Medicaid might cover most of it.”

  June’s mouth fell open. “Seriously?” At Hailey’s nod, she shook her head. “I never even thought of that being a possibility. I’ll have to consider it.”

  “We don’t have time.” Biting back rising panic, Hailey struggled to sound cool and collected. “Openings in these places are hard to come by. They’ve agreed to keep this one open until noon. They’re doing it as a special favor to me through a friend of mine.”

  “I’d really like a couple of days to decide.”

  Which meant no. Suddenly, Hailey realized she’d had enough. “They’re going to discharge you from the hospital today, Mother. If you come back home, everything is going to go right back to the way it was.”

  June shrugged. “That’s my choice. My life. My rules.”

  “No. Not anymore.” Hailey took a deep breath. “I’m changing all the locks on the house. If you don’t get treatment, you’re not welcome there anymore. You’ll have to find somewhere else to live.”

  If looks could kill. “You can’t do that.”

  She was right, but she didn’t need to know that.

  “I can and I will.” Crossing her arms, Hailey glared right back. “You can’t continue to do this to Tom, Tara and Eli. And me. You need help.”

  “So you keep saying.” June’s mocking smile felt like the final straw.

  Pushing to her feet, jaw clenched, Hailey turned to go. “Have a nice life, Mother.”

  She made it all the way to the door, before June stopped her.

  “Wait.”

  Slowly, Hailey turned.

  “Fine. I’ll go to rehab.”

  Hailey didn’t move. “You can’t change your mind. Once I make the call, that’s it. Do you understand this?”

  “You don’t have to speak to me like I’m a child.” June’s petulant tone was back. “Yes, of course I get it.”

  Going with impulse, Hailey stepped over and gave her mother a quick hug. “Thank you for this,” she whispered. Then she stepped away and got out her phone to make the call.

  Things moved fast after that. The facility had already gotten preapproval and just needed the paperwork signed when they arrived. Hailey helped her mother pack, and drove her there herself.

  By the time Hailey finished signing paperwork and making sure June was settled in her new room, it was time to pick the kids up from school. June had been assigned a small living area, which she shared with a roommate. She’d griped about this at first, until Hailey gently reminded her of the, no doubt, much greater expense of a private room. She hurried out, stopped by the director on the way, who reminded her no phone calls or visits for at least two weeks. They wanted to get her acclimated, the woman said.

  Bone tired after picking up all three kids from school, Hailey drove them through the drive-through of the local fast food restaurant. The kids were excit
ed at the unexpected treat, so she didn’t tell them the true reason they were having burgers and fries was because she was too exhausted to cook.

  She fell asleep on the couch watching the news.

  * * *

  Anxiously waiting to hear from Hailey was torture. Mac had given up pretending to be unaffected, which meant Gus saw and teased him mercilessly.

  Finally, after checking his watch for the twentieth time, Mac gave up and decided to get out his phone.

  Before he could, Gus called him. “Hey, Mac, you got a minute?”

  “Sure.” Hurrying in, Mac was pleasantly surprised to see Gus sipping on a can of vegetable juice.

  “What’s up?” Mac asked. Then he looked at his father, really looked. Gus’s complexion actually had color, and his eyes were clear, revealing no hint of any pain. “Dad, you look really good.”

  “Thanks.” Grinning, Gus finished off the rest of his drink. “I feel pretty great. Must be all the great care I’m getting from that pretty girlfriend of yours.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend.” His automatic reply made Mac briefly feel like a teenager again. “Though not from lack of trying.”

  “Have you?” Gus’s piercing gaze was that of the man he’d been before prison and illness had taken so much from him. “Been trying, that is. Because from where I sit, I haven’t seen much of that at all.”

  “Seriously?” Mac shook his head. “Dad, you have no idea.”

  “Oh, but I do.” Gus’s expression turned pensive. “You forget, I was married to your mother for a long time. Believe me, I know what courting looks like, and you ain’t doing it, son.”

  Courting. The old-fashioned term made Mac smile. “I actually don’t think Hailey would let me court her.”

  “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. You don’t give her a choice. Swoop in and sweep her off her feet.”

  Mac grimaced. “That’s what I’d like to do. I really would. But I’m afraid to make the wrong move. I feel like I have one shot at getting her back, and I don’t want to blow it.”

  Gus snorted. “So you’re playing it safe? That’s not like you. Go big or go home. If you want her badly enough, you should give it everything you’ve got.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” Maybe his father was right. Giving Hailey time so far hadn’t accomplished anything but a tentative sort of friendship. They were meant for each other, and he knew she realized this, too—even if the knowledge was buried somewhere deep inside of her.

  “Right now she’s got a lot going on.” He explained to his father everything that had happened with Hailey’s mother. “I was just about to call her and check on her.”

  “Go ahead.” Gus waved him away. “The evening news is coming on in a few. I’ll be fine.”

  Walking outside, Mac dialed Hailey’s number. A second later, a young girl answered. When he asked for Hailey, she told him her sister was asleep.

  “But I’m really glad you called,” she continued. “My name is Tara, and I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” Barely pausing for breath, she rushed on. “So when are you going to take my sister out on a real date?”

  Mac laughed—he couldn’t help it. Her question and his father’s statement about courting Hailey had come too close to each other to be only coincidence. “Soon,” he answered.

  “That’s not good enough.” He swore he could hear her tapping her foot. “What about Saturday?”

  “This Saturday?”

  “Yes. That gives you all day tomorrow to plan something. That should be more than enough time, don’t you think?”

  He did, but still. “Are you always this bossy?”

  Now she laughed. “Nope. Only when something is really important. This is. Should I tell Hailey you’ll be picking her up at six?”

  “Sure. Why not? And, Tara, please, tell her to dress nicely.”

  He was still grinning when he walked into the living room to tell his father. But Gus was asleep, so Mac took a seat to watch the news alone.

  A knock on the door made Mac jump. He hurried to answer before the sound woke Gus.

  Detective Logan stood on the front porch, expression grave. “There’s been another murder,” he said, and then filled Mac in on the details.

  The next girl’s body was discovered by an elderly man walking his dog. She’d been killed in an empty lot, not far from where Lora Lundgren and, a decade earlier, Brenda Green had been found. She, too, had only been fourteen. Due to the possibility that they might have a serial killer at work, the FBI had been called in.

  Mac swore. Softly, almost under his breath. He debated inviting the other man in but decided against it. After all, he wasn’t exactly sure why Logan was here.

  “I just have a few questions,” the detective said, pushing his thick glasses up with one finger. “First, I need to know your whereabouts last night between five and seven.”

  Mac didn’t even have to think. “I was here, with my father.” But then he realized he hadn’t been, not the entire time. “I also was with Hailey Green, up at the hospital. Her mother was brought in by ambulance. She was in Room 17. I’m sure one of the nurses can verify that for you.”

  “How long were you there?”

  “I’m not sure. Twenty or thirty minutes, probably.”

  “And what time was this?”

  It had been dinnertime, Mac thought. “Five thirty or six.”

  “And the rest of the time you were with your father, except for driving time.”

  Driving time. The way Logan said that sounded like he thought Mac had made a detour to murder a teenager before coming home for the night.

  “That’s right.” Mac couldn’t help it; a cold, hard lump settled in his stomach. “I can’t leave him alone for very long.”

  “Is there anyone else who can corroborate that story?”

  “My father.”

  Expression skeptical, Logan cleared his throat. “Anyone besides him?”

  “No.” Mac crossed his arms. “I’m guessing his word isn’t good enough for you?”

  The other man sighed. “May I speak with him?”

  “Of course.” Mac stepped aside. “I might have to wake him.”

  As he followed Mac into the house, Logan’s next question made Mac tense up, though he struggled to hide it. “He sleeps a lot, does he?”

  “Of course. He’s very ill.” Now Mac turned to give the other man a warning look. “And please, try not to upset him.”

  “I’m just doing my job.”

  “Of course.” Mac sighed. “Dad, we have company,” he called out, hoping to give his father some warning.

  But Gus had already managed to sit up, at least on his elbows. He looked grumpy and disoriented. Mac hurried over and helped him get settled in a more stable, upright position.

  Gus’s questioning expression hardened when he saw Detective Logan’s uniform. “What now?” he barked.

  “Another victim,” the detective answered. “We just found the body, but the coroner thinks it happened last night. We’re not making this information available to the media until tomorrow. We’ve just notified her family.”

  “Oh, no.” As he closed his eyes briefly, Gus’s stony expression crumbled. When he opened them a second later, he fixed Detective Logan with an intense glare. “You’ve got to find out who’s doing this. That’s why I wanted you to reopen the Brenda Green case. I just know they’re all related.”

  “Related how?”

  “I don’t know.” Gus’s frustration came across in his voice. “There are similarities in the victim’s looks, for one thing.”

  The detective pulled up a chair next to Gus and sat down. “True. And both victims are roughly the same age as Brenda Green was.” He took a deep breath, glancing up at Mac before refocusing on Gus. “And their bodies were arrang
ed the same way, with a bottle of Guinness in their hand.”

  Gus gasped. “You’ve reopened the old case.” Only a few people knew that the killer had put the empty bottle of Irish beer in Brenda Green’s hand. Gus knew because they’d told him, in their numerous and aggressive attempts to make him confess to a crime he hadn’t committed. And everyone in Legacy knew Guinness was Gus’s favorite beer.

  “Yes. And we’ve been careful not to leak that particular information to the media, so keep it under your hat.”

  “Will do.” The fierceness in Gus’s tone made Mac look twice. His father’s eyes were shiny with unshed tears.

  So help him, if this Detective Logan was just playing with the older man... No. Mac knew he couldn’t allow himself to think like that. Surely not everyone was out to get his father. Maybe Gus’s time had finally come. Perhaps exoneration might actually be a possibility.

  Hope. Such a fragile thing, so easily destroyed. He pushed it away, back in the furthest recess of his mind, where it couldn’t hurt him.

  “We’ve got a lead on some Irish Travellers,” Logan continued. “The Irish version of a Romani. There were a couple involved in an alleged murder up near Fort Worth a few years ago. Apparently one or two have been hanging around Legacy. Maybe the Guinness is a clue.”

  Too easy was Mac’s first thought. But then again, who knew what went through a killer’s brain. “What about the ten-year gap?”

  “This particular group hasn’t settled anywhere. They keep moving. We’re still checking, but there’s a distinct possibility that they came through town a decade ago.”

  * * *

  When the phone rang and caller ID showed it was the rehab facility, Hailey’s stomach dropped. Several scenarios ran though her mind, each of them horrible, before she made herself stop and answer the phone.

  “How’s my beautiful daughter?” June asked. She sounded cheerful and upbeat and, most important of all, sober.

  “I’m fine,” Hailey answered cautiously. “I thought you weren’t allowed to have any contact with us for two weeks.”