The Price He Paid Page 16

  “Mrs. Langley.” She recognized the signs now and wondered why no one else had. “How long had Ned Compton abused you?”

  The older woman shuddered, but she only kept sobbing, more softly now.

  She longed to ask Delia how could she keep silent for so long, but Callie had seen too many victims of abuse not to realize that though many of them could be saved, some were broken by it in a way that was beyond mending.

  She harnessed the urge to berate this pitiful creature and instead took Delia Langley in her arms, holding her as she wept.

  Inside Callie, though, drumbeats sounded. The clock ticked away the minutes of imprisonment David should not be enduring. “Mrs. Langley, it’s not too late. You can help David now. Your son needs you, but he will never ask.” She felt the slight body tense. “Will you let him go back to prison?”

  Delia Langley’s head rose swiftly, her reddened eyes fierce. “No. I could not—” She trembled, then forced herself to straighten. “I could not bear it.” She pressed her lips together to still them. “But I don’t know what to do.”

  “That’s okay,” Callie said. “I do.”

  “You must hate me,” his mother said. “He must, too, though he’s never even hinted at it, not once.” She glanced away, eyes batting hard. “How could I have been so weak? My boy, my precious boy—” She covered her mouth with one hand and began to crumple again.

  “Stop it.” Callie knew she sounded cruel, but time was racing past. “Mrs. Langley, if you want to help David, you have to keep it together.” Then she relented. “I don’t hate you. He doesn’t either. He loves you.”

  “Delia,” she said, straightening. “Why don’t you call me Delia.” She drew in a deep breath. “Every day—” She locked her gaze on Callie’s. “Every day since they took him away, I have loathed myself for bringing that man into our lives. He was handsome and charming and so strong. I thought I was doing the right thing, giving David a father figure, someone who was admired by the community, someone who could help him back on the path after he lost his way with—” She faltered.

  “With me.” Callie nodded. “You can say that. I’ve earned it. If he had never met me…” She shook her head. “I bear my own share of guilt in this, Mrs—Delia. I started him down this path.”

  “You were so young. And that poor baby…”

  Callie clenched her fingers into fists against that trip down memory lane. “We can’t focus on that right now. We have to save David. There are those who are eager to send him back to prison, and we have to stop them.”

  “Tell me what to do.”

  Callie tried to think of an answer. She didn’t want David being held one second longer than necessary, but her hands were tied until his attorney returned.

  Albert Manning. He wasn’t a criminal attorney, but he was licensed in Georgia. She could guide his steps.

  But she couldn’t get ahead of herself. She had to know precisely what they were dealing with. “I need the whole story. Explain to me exactly what happened.”

  His mother’s lips quivered, but she quickly settled herself. Then she sat ramrod straight and began to talk.

  “I don’t know why Ned Compton took an interest in me. I’m no one special.”

  Callie could have argued with her; Delia Langley was—or had been—a very striking woman, just like her handsome son. Callie had often admired her, back before the ravages of time and grief had washed out her beauty. Now she was painfully thin and didn’t look well at all.

  “Later, when I could think about it, I suppose there were two parts to what brought him here. David seemed to gather all the light into him, and everyone wanted to be near him, to bask in the glow he cast off.” She glanced at Callie. “You know how he was, everyone’s hero.” At Callie’s nod, she continued. “I suppose that was part of it—Ned had a hunger to be the center of everything. When David met you and…” She looked down.

  Callie didn’t need her to fill in the words. “When I tarnished his image, you mean.”

  Delia pressed her lips together. “Once you were gone, David had a difficult time getting over all the emotional upheaval. He started missing class, and his athletic performance suffered. Ned saw his opening. He could put the town’s star back on the straight and narrow and be a hero for it. He began to come around, and he was always kind and supportive. I was at my wits’ end. Never before had David been rebellious with me, and I could see his future going down the drain.” She rubbed her brow. “So when Ned suggested we marry and make him David’s stepfather, I thought…” For long seconds, she stared off into obviously painful memories.

  “I was so tired, you see, and everything I’d tried to do seemed hopeless. I began to rely too much on Ned, and he took over more and more. I still don’t—” Her voice caught.

  She gathered herself together, gripping her arms tightly. “Things changed when Ned moved us into his house. I’d never lived in a fine place like that, so at first I was uneasy, and when he would correct me, I’d just think of how uneducated I was and I’d try harder, but nothing was ever enough and he—” She paused to master herself, but all the color had drained from her face. She looked ancient.

  “The first time he hit me, I was so shocked I didn’t—I couldn’t figure out what to do. David’s father would never have…” She pressed trembling lips together before going on with her story.

  She didn’t really need to. Callie had heard this tale hundreds of times. “Was David aware of it then?” He surely had been later.

  “No.” A violent shake of her head. “It was—Ned was already so hard on him, and things kept getting worse between them. I couldn’t let David know or he might…” Delia’s gaze beseeched her. “It was an accident, I swear it. David was only trying to stop him from beating me. He’d suspected, I realize now, and tried to make me confirm it, but Ned was very clever. When David confronted him and accused him, Ned threatened him. Said no one would ever believe him now, not after he’d thrown away his future the way he had. That he had the town in his pocket. That—” Her voice broke. “That David couldn’t watch me all the time.” Tears spilled over. “David begged me to leave him. Said he could get a job and support us, that all I had to do was leave with him and he’d take care of me.”

  She closed her eyes. “If only I’d gone, but I was frightened of Ned, and David was struggling. He needed to finish school, to get back on track. ‘Go off to college and make a life,’ I said, but he told me he couldn’t leave me. And then, one night, Ned struck me in front of him. David went crazy, jumped on him…the fight was terrible. David was young and strong, but Ned had no sense of honor. He went for David’s knees, said he’d cripple my boy so he wouldn’t be able to play football and he’d be stuck here forever, never amounting to anything. He said cruel, awful things about me, and David’s rage made him reckless where Ned was so canny. He caught David off guard and toppled him to the floor on his back. He was about to smash his foot into David’s knee—”

  She looked so gray that Callie reached out for her. “Delia, you don’t have to continue.”

  But it was as if Delia were locked in that time and couldn’t hear her. “He said he’d call his buddy the sheriff and have David charged with assault. Said David would go to jail and lose everything. Ned was kicking him, hurting him…I couldn’t let him destroy my son. I grabbed for the first thing I could find to stop him, the fireplace poker.” She turned horrified eyes to Callie. “I didn’t mean to kill him. I only wanted to stop him, but I hit him once and then he wheeled on me, and I swung again and it—His head…there was blood, so much blood. I dropped the poker. I must have fainted because the next thing I knew, the sheriff was there, putting David in handcuffs and—” She began to gasp for air.

  Then, like a rag doll, she simply collapsed to the floor.

  “Delia!” Callie rushed to her, feeling frantically for a pulse. She had little knowledge of first aid, but Delia’s heart rate was clearly unsteady. Callie raced for the phone and dialed for help, afraid it
would take too long in this remote spot. When the dispatcher assured her help would be there in fifteen or twenty minutes and patched her in to the paramedics so they could advise her what to do in the meantime, Callie was too busy to think beyond keeping Delia alive.

  Hours later, Delia had been admitted overnight to the county hospital for observation after what the doctors believed was a panic attack exacerbated by Delia’s poor physical condition. Exhausted, Callie was desperate for sleep, but she couldn’t rest yet.

  David was in jail, and she had to set in motion the process to clear him.

  But first, before he heard about his mother from someone else, she had to go see him.

  And confess what she’d done.

  Chapter Seventeen

  She approached the interview room like a condemned prisoner on the way to the gallows. She’d been wise enough not to demand anything from the sheriff regarding David’s release; one charge would not suddenly vanish simply because another had been invalidated. She would have to talk to the D.A., and she’d have to choose every step from here carefully.

  Right now, tonight, she was only here on an errand of mercy. The sheriff had no idea how she longed to be anywhere else.

  David would hate her. As well he should.

  It was with relief that she noted that he was only handcuffed this time, not ankle-bound as well. Even a reviled criminal like David deserved, apparently, a little consideration when bad news was coming his way.

  He stood, as before, braced against whatever she had to say. The sight of those broad shoulders stiffened to deflect whatever toll she would exact made her inexpressibly sad.

  She was the enemy. And I am. She accepted the role, however unwelcome. Most of the troubles in David’s life had begun with her.

  She thought of a tiny grave, a precious memorial, and she wondered if she would ever finishing paying for all the damage she’d created. With a deep inhalation, she steeled herself and opened the door.

  He turned, his face a mask, a stone wall. Obviously expecting the worst.

  She decided to rip off the bandage, quick and clean, since there was no easy way to say what she had to tell him. “Your mother is in the hospital. She’s going to be all right, though. She just needs rest and nourishment,” she hurried to reassure.

  None of that helped one iota, she could tell.

  His glare was acid. Fire and brimstone. “What have you done?”

  Callie averted her gaze. There was no excusing her, no rationalization that the hardened man would accept. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” He advanced on her, then abruptly stopped as the deputy rattled the knob from outside.

  David didn’t come closer but his face lost all pretense of control. “Sorry?” he echoed. A muscle hardened in his jaw. “Tell me.” Not a request.

  “She’s the one who sent me the note. She’s desperate to help you,” Callie tried.

  “She promised she’d never—”

  “David, you’re innocent. You should never have—” Seeing his face go from fury to outright loathing, she halted. Continuing took everything she had. “All of this can go away,” she whispered furiously. “If everyone knew what really happened, no one—”

  “Stop it.” He bit off each word. “Do not say it. Don’t you dare.” Then utter devastation ravaged his features. “You have made a travesty of the last fifteen years of my life.” He hadn’t approached, yet he seemed to loom. “Is that what you want? For me to have wasted everything, all my dreams, every single thing I ever hoped for?” His voice caught, and he had to look away.

  As he struggled to compose himself, Callie tried to think how to frame her argument. “David, I can—”

  Viciously he cut her off. “You can’t do anything. Not one thing, do you hear me?” His nostrils flared and his eyes burned. “Haven’t you done enough damage?” He glared at her like some creature he loathed. “If I’d never met you…”

  Her eyes burned. She forced herself to battle back the agony that threatened to destroy her. Of course he was right. Meeting her had begun his descent into endless loss. He’d pitied her. His kind, generous heart had taken up for her when she’d had no one else. He’d always been the champion of the downtrodden, and he’d done for his mother what he’d done for her…put them before what he really wanted. Given up all to help someone else.

  “I can save her,” she beseeched. “I can save you, too.”

  He turned on her, quick and savage. “Do you think I want anything from you? After what you’ve done? Do you not get it that she would never survive a trial? Even if you could clear her—” his withering tone spoke of his utter lack of confidence “—doesn’t today demonstrate that she can’t survive the process of your precious justice system?” It was clear that he couldn’t stand the sight of her.

  The dingy gray walls matched her spirits, but somehow Callie had to think her way past her devastation. She could free him now, she knew it. Could clear his mother. “Listen to me. There’s is a defense that—”

  “Get out!” he roared. “Get out of my life!”

  The deputy shoved the door open. Callie rushed to reassure him. “It’s all right, deputy. I’m fine.”

  The man pinned David with a warning gaze. “I better not see you one foot closer to her than you are now. As a matter of fact, you back away.”

  “No problem.” David’s loathing gaze caught her. “I have nothing else to say to Ms. Hunter.”

  She’d heard her name spoken in many contexts, but never with such pure animosity.

  She somehow found her voice when what she really wanted to do was break down. “Thank you, deputy.”

  Silence reigned while they waited for the man to close the door again.

  When it came, David’s voice was cold as the grave. “For the sake of that child,” he said, invoking her plea to him. “Go away now. And don’t ever come back.”

  That child. Not our baby.

  He’d written her out of his life for good.

  “David, please…you have to let me fix this.” If she had to plead, so be it. She couldn’t bear to leave things this way.

  He stared at the opposite wall. “You can’t.”

  Everything in Callie cried out to stay, to make him see, to reassure him that she could…

  Her shoulders sank in defeat. Everything she touched eventually turned to ashes. He was right, much as it sickened her to admit it. The most she could do for him now was to turn over what she’d learned to his attorney.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered brokenly. Then she summoned what strength was left to her and did as he asked.

  Began making plans to pack up and drive out of his life.

  She’d gotten ten miles down the road back to Oak Hollow when she realized that she had two allegiances, one to David, who loathed the sight of her and wanted her gone. He’d made that perfectly, brutally clear.

  But she’d also made a promise to his mother. Before she ran out of town with her tail tucked between her legs—oh, how that prospect grated on her, however much she’d wronged him—she couldn’t just disappear without talking to Delia, as least putting her mind at ease that she had a viable defense, that what David feared was not the case.

  She turned the car around and drove back toward the hospital.

  Callie was certain of little right now, but one thing she believed to her marrow was that Delia Langley could be defended. She should not have to worry about her fate. Any competent attorney could ensure that she would spend not one hour in jail. Even the most ambitious prosecutor would see that he’d get no mileage from trying a woman in her situation and state of health. There was no argument to be made that justice would be served.

  Except Delia couldn’t afford that competent attorney.

  In that instant, Callie saw the what she could do to redeem herself. Miss Margaret had left Callie with the resources to buy the best defense Delia Langley could ever wish for.

  And maybe, just maybe, that attorney could swing the tide for Da
vid as well. Surely if even Mickey Carson understood the sacrifice David had made, he or one of his buddies would recant the assault charge. Of course, she would have to dig up evidence that Ned Compton had a history of abuse, but if there were previous girlfriends or—

  There she went again, getting involved. Haven’t you done enough damage?

  But how could he expect her just to walk away? She banged her fist on the steering wheel. He was wrong, damn him. She could fix this, all of it, if only…

  The image of his face, ravaged, despairing, would not let her be. She sagged against the seat, watching an inner slide show of this thoroughly decent man and the noble boy he’d once been. Could she be absolutely positive that she could clear him of the current charges?

  No. She of all people knew the justice system was capricious. Wasn’t that why she hadn’t revealed that her witness had an ulterior motive regarding the defendant? Because she didn’t fully trust that a bad guy would pay?

  She raked her fingers through her hair.

  In the end the bad guy hadn’t paid anyway.

  If she were really honest with herself, she knew that the frightening reality was that David could lose. That she no longer trusted herself to save him.

  This was why she’d chosen prosecution and not defense. Why she’d done everything possible to keep her heart out of the courtroom. Prosecutors focused on wrong and right, on the black and white of guilt or innocence. She’d liked the moral high ground of it.

  At least she had as long as her feet had been planted safely there. She knew how to excel after a childhood full of failure, and she’d liked the air up there on the peaks. Success didn’t endanger her heart, and a sure knowledge of her position as a fighter for good over evil had been the armor that had shielded her.

  Until she’d faltered, that is. Felt the sweat of fear as her first defeat, the first chink in the casing she’d donned to clearly delineate the woman from the mixed-up girl, had begun to eat away at her faith in herself.

  Now she was mired in uncertainty, too much of the insecure girl bubbling up to the surface and blistering the patina of the woman she’d believed herself to be.