Close To Home (Westen Series) (31 page)

Brian nodded along with his brother. “We was tryin’ to free ’em.”

“Yeah, ninja style,” Ben said, then jumped around to face Mama. “Ya-ha!”

“Ben, enough.” Emma moved around her sons, hand out in front of her. She inhaled deeply to muster what little patience she had left before taking a step forward. “Mama, please give me the knitting needles.”

“Dear, I’ve got the demons locked up where they can’t hurt anyone.” Mama pressed herself against the door, but lowered the points of the needles. The pounding behind the door stopped. “They’re here to steal things. The little blonde floozy took all kinds of things from me.”

Blonde floozy?

Gwen.

“Mama, Gwen isn’t a floozy or a demon. She’s my friend and Doctor Preston’s sister.” Emma took another step closer, keeping her voice calm and soothing. “You remember Doctor Preston, don’t you?”

Mama blinked. The confusion in her eyes seemed to clear as she glanced past Emma to where Clint stood with the boys. A smile turned up the corners of her lips, and she lowered the needles farther. “Oh yes. He’s the nice man you’ve been stepping out with, isn’t he?”

“Yes, Mama. And Gwen is his sister. She’d never take anything from you.” With one more step Emma touched her mother’s shoulder then slid her hands down to disarm her of the normally harmless knitting needles. “We should probably let Gwen and Libby out of the basement, don’t you think?”

“You know, she stole my cod-liver oil,” Mama whispered, but didn’t quite move away from her post in front of the basement door. “I think she must be severely constipated.”

Cod-liver oil?
Emma stared at her mother. When had she become this outrageous? Never in her life would her mother discuss someone within their hearing, let alone discuss their personal hygiene. Giggling came from the other side of the basement door. Mama’s eyes grew wide and confused again.

“Gwen, you’re not helping things out here,” Clint said from behind Emma.

“Sorry. It’s just too funny.”

Emma gently pulled her mother away from the door. “Let’s go make some tea, Mama. I’m sure you could use one as much as me.”

“What about those two floozies? We can’t leave them alone with your young beau.”

“I’m sure Clint can handle them both.” She wanted to laugh and scream at the same time. The whole thing was just too much for her poor brain at that moment, but Mama needed her to remain calm. One of them had to stay focused on reality.

A few minutes later, Clint had both boys upstairs in the shower and Mama sat at the table sipping tea and nibbling on pound cake with both Gwen and Libby as if they were all long lost friends. Emma stared at the trio. Her nerves were shot—that’s all there was to it. If she were lucky the men in the little white jackets would come and cart both her and Mama off to the hospital. They could have adjoining padded rooms.

“Will someone please tell me what happened to trigger this?” She looked at Libby. “And how exactly did you end up locked in with Gwen?”

Libby shrugged a bit sheepishly. “I stopped by to see how everyone was doing since you and Doctor Preston were out of town. Your mother tricked me into checking on Gwen and the next thing I knew she had us both locked in your basement.”

That cleared up nothing. Emma shook her head and focused on Gwen. “Exactly what happened?”

“Things were going just fine until I took your mother into Columbus to shop at the superstore.” Gwen took a sip of her tea. “I’m not sure if it was the size of the store, the warehouse atmosphere or the prices for bulk items, but she insisted on buying tons of stuff.”

“Then what happened?” Emma wanted Gwen to get to the point. She wasn’t in the mood for one of her friend’s convoluted stories.

“I’d managed to talk her out of the super-sized box of bran flakes, the giant packages of men’s underwear—which she wanted for her lovely husband Sherm because they were a good price and she just knew she hadn’t bought him any recently, I didn’t have the heart to tell her that’s because he died last spring—and the multi-packs of pork & beans.” Gwen stopped to laugh at the memory.

“Gwen!”

“Sorry Emma, the pork & beans throws me off every time I think of them.” Gwen wiped her eyes. “When we got to the pharmacy section Miss Isabelle spotted the cod-liver oil. She absolutely had to buy some. I couldn’t talk her out of it. Next thing I know we’re at the checkout counter buying an entire case of the stuff.”

“Which the little floozy stole from me.”

The words, said so quietly and with such prim insistence that Mama sounded like a Sunday school teacher quoting scripture, sent Gwen, and even Libby, into another fit of laughter.

Finally, the absurdity of the entire situation hit Emma. Everyone couldn’t be going crazy. It had to be her. She gave in to the hysteria bubbling just under her surface. The laughter inside her grew. Her shoulders quivering, she chuckled softly. The sound deepened and expanded, and her whole body began shaking. Then the tears rolled down her face unchecked.

It was one big joke—her life was one great big cosmic joke.

Fate or karma or the gods or whatever you believed in had to be bored and decided to see how much one poor soul could stand before they snapped. Well, they’d won. She cradled her head in her arms against the tabletop and let her world crash down around her.

Clint’s heart tore as he stood in the kitchen doorway watching Emma weep. His sister and Libby had long since stopped laughing and looked dumbfounded at Emma’s open display of grief.

Gwen looked up. “It was just a silly story about…”

“…cod-liver oil.” He held up his hand to stop her explanation. “I know, Gwen. But this isn’t about that. Could you help Miss Isabelle up to her room? Libby? Could you see to the boys?”

Both women nodded and patted Emma’s arms as they passed her and escorted her bewildered mother out of the kitchen.

Clint eased the chair beside Emma away from the table and sat down. He rubbed his hand up and down on her back as she sobbed. “It’s okay Em. Cry all you want. You’ll feel better for it.”

She sobbed something that sounded like, “I can’t take anymore.”

Damn, didn’t she know how strong she was? Most people would’ve caved in and drunk themselves into a stupor given the weight of her problems. But not his Emma. And what could he do about it? Nothing. Nothing but hold her. The need to give her some comfort clawed at him. He gathered her into his arms, easing her onto his lap and pressing her face against his chest.

“It’s okay, baby. Everyone’s okay now.” He crooned and rocked her back and forth like a child. If only he could take her cares away as easily.

She clutched his shirt as she sobbed and hiccuped, then sobbed some more. “I can’t…they win…no more…lose everything…padded cell…not fair…”

Clint rubbed his hands firmly over her back and arms, trying to soothe her as she mumbled incoherently. “No it’s not fair. But you’re tough, Em. You can fight this. I promise to help all I can.”

She sucked in air, and her body stopped it’s shaking. “I want…just one thing to go right. Mama is…deteriorating too fast. Don’t you see?”

“Sh, sweetheart. Your mother’s confusion may have more to do with having Gwen here instead of you, rather than a quickening of the disease process.” He lifted her chin then reached for a paper napkin from the napkin holder on the table. He wiped the tears from her dark, circle-rimmed eyes then held it to her red nose. “Here, blow.”

She took it from him, blew her nose in a rather unladylike fashion, and looked at him. “Gwen caused Mama to lose it?”

“Under the best of circumstances Gwen could make anyone lose it, but my theory is the change in Isabelle’s routine, the stress of having someone new around to care for her and the boys is what set her off, not just Gwen.” He continued to rub Emma’s back, as much for his need to touch her as her need for comfort.

“So, Mama might go back to normal?”

“Emma, you know your mother won’t ever be back to the normal person she was before she developed Alzheimer’s. But with you home again and a more consistent routine in her life, she’ll probably return to having more lucid moments for a while.”

“As long as I don’t take her shopping near any cod-liver oil, huh?”

He grinned at her attempt at a joke. The depth of the woman’s resiliency was amazing. “Yep. I’d leave cod-liver oil off your grocery list from now on.”

* * *

It was just after eleven that night when Clint finally entered the clinic. In Florida Emma had slipped into a deep depression once she’d learned that Talbert couldn’t testify for them, which had made the flight home an ordeal. Then the craziness upon their arrival and her emotional meltdown had almost been too much for her. For the remainder of the evening, she’d managed smiles and laughter only for her sons’ benefit and because she’d missed them so much.

Yet, every so often Emma’s mask slipped and quiet despair lay just beneath the surface.

With a growl, Clint kicked the reception room’s trashcan down the hall, watching it ricochet off the walls.

“You’re a dangerous man, Doc.” The deep voice drifted out from Clint’s office at the end of the hall. “If I was a trash can I’d be real worried.”

Clint flipped on the hall light and peered into his office. “Gage?”

“In the flesh.” He lit a match to his cigar, the glowing embers the only light in the room.

The familiar scent of his favorite tobacco filled Clint’s office. “Glad you feel free to help yourself to my custom blend cigars. What’re you doing here?” Clint reached for the office’s light switch.

“Don’t turn on this light, Doc.” His order stopped Clint in his tracks. “I don’t know who’s watching your place.”

“You’re sounding a bit paranoid, Justice, even for you.” Clint went behind his desk and found his cigars. Lighting his own, he leaned back in his chair, then propped one leg on the desk’s edge.

Gage took a long drag on his cigar. “When you hear what happened to me today, you’ll think my paranoia may be a little justified.”

Apprehension slithered down Clint’s spine. In the short time he’d known Emma’s cousin, the big man hadn’t given signs of acting like a drama queen. He seemed cool, collected and calm. He quietly evaluated situations and managed to keep his personal life away from the town’s gossip mill.

“What happened?”

“The detective Emma’s ex hired came to the Sheriff’s office today.”

Clint twisted the cigar between his thumb and finger. “What did the guy want?”

“Apparently, his client is interested in a contract hit on Emma.”

Clint’s foot hit the floor with a thud. “What the hell?”

“Seems our detective friend has a certain moral standard and murder-for-hire isn’t his cup of tea. At least not at the paltry sum Hazard is offering.” Gage puffed on the cigar a few times. “It seems the client is in a hurry for this hit to take place next week.”

“I bet. Maybe in time to circumvent a certain child custody hearing?”

The hall lamp cast enough light into the room for Clint to see Gage nod. Silence reigned for a few moments as they smoked, both men adding up the situation and their options.

“What do you recommend we do?” Clint asked.

“For the moment, you do nothing. I’ve set the wheels in motion for a little sting operation.”

Clint leaned on his desk. “How do you propose to do that?”

“The detective called his client and told him he had a man willing to do the job. Only, I insisted his client meet with me next Wednesday night to give me the details and half the money up front.”

“What if he doesn’t agree?”

“Oh, he’ll agree. I know too much already. Better to have me as an accomplice than an informant. Besides, he’s desperate and arrogant. The idea of planning his ex-wife’s murder will make him feel like a big man.”

“How are you going to trap him?”

“I’ve met his kind before. They like to talk. They think they’re above the law, so they shoot off their mouths. I’ll wear a wire.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” Clint liked this cop more and more.

“Not in the apprehension of a criminal in the planning of a crime. Once he gives me the details and hands me the money, he’s as good as pulled the trigger himself.”

“Next Wednesday night is the night before the custody case. Did you know that when you set this meeting?”

Gage nodded.

“Emma will have to be told.” The idea of breaking more bad news to her twisted Client’s gut.

“You sure you want to do that, Doc? The mood Emma’s been in lately, she might just bolt. Then the ex could use the law instead of a hit-man to come after her.”

Clint nodded. “Emma’s agitated that’s for sure. Especially after striking out in Florida with the Talbert lead.” He didn’t even want to discuss the scene with her Mother and Gwen today. Telling Emma about this development felt like handing a drowning man a boulder. “But I made her a promise. No matter how ugly this gets, I won’t hide anything from her.”

Gage made an approving sound. “She’s a lot tougher than I’d ever imagined. Not many women could handle the curveballs life’s tossed her way and still come out swinging.”

“How do we stop him from hiring someone else when Emma appears at the hearing the next day?”

“He won’t make that hearing, Doc.” Gage’s voice held an oath that gave Clint some reassurance. “And he’s so desperate for her to die, he’ll get sloppy. He won’t leave the parking lot before we have him in cuffs.”

“Who are you going to get to help you?”

“Dad and I both have contacts with the State police. There should be no trouble getting a warrant for the operation based on what I heard tonight.”

“I’d like to be there. In a back room or something.”

Gage relaxed against the cushions. “I thought you might.”

Clint propped his feet on the desk once more. “I want to nail this son-of-a-bitch bad, Justice.”

“So do I, Doc. So do I.”

* * *

In her home’s newly remodeled great room Wednesday afternoon, Emma sat next to Clint on the old sofa listening to Wade review the plans for the custody hearing the next morning. Since the moment she’d heard the devastating news about Big Tony’s solution to Talbert, she’d found herself treading water and trying to stay afloat in a deep pool of doubt and fear. There had to be a solution, she just knew there did. However, for the life of her she had no idea what it was.