Home > White Heat (Dept 6 Hired Guns #1)(66)

White Heat (Dept 6 Hired Guns #1)(66)
Author: Brenda Novak

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Well?” he asked calmly. “What do you have to say? Will you make amends to those you have wronged?”

Swallowing hard, she managed a nod. He didn’t seem angry, but his calm, calculated reaction frightened her more….

“Restitution is a necessary part of repentance. You believe that, don’t you?”

Sarah couldn’t bear his disapproval. It scorched her like the hot sun beating on the desert soil. “Yes, Brother.”

“What did you say?” he prompted at her soft reply.

She spoke up. “Yes, Brother Bart.”

“Good. Do not worry. God is a god of mercy,” he said. Then he released her and hurried over to Ethan.

The dirty dishes were still there, with the dried-on food. The cigarette smoke that had clouded Martha Wilson’s apartment still hung thick in the air. But she was gone.

Nate stood in her kitchen and frowned at the mess. He’d never considered himself compulsively neat, but it was all he could do to stop himself from bagging the garbage spilling out of the trash can. It wasn’t healthy to live in these conditions. He might’ve hauled it outside, except it would no doubt frighten her to come home and find it gone.

“Where do you think she is?” Rachel called from the living room.

It was a simple question, nothing personal, but he was just glad she was speaking to him. She’d said hardly anything all day. After they’d made love, she’d eaten with him at the café, spoken to Thelma about their visits to Paradise and gone back to the trailer, where she’d insisted on bathing again. He’d gotten the impression she wanted to wash away every trace of what had happened between them earlier, which should’ve encouraged him. He didn’t want that encounter to mean anything to her, right? So why did it leave him feeling so unhappy?

“I don’t see her purse.” He’d looked for it first thing. “Maybe she went out to get some cigarettes.” Since there wasn’t a pack lying around and he knew she couldn’t survive an hour without smoking, a trip to the store sounded reasonable. “Or maybe she went to dinner. It’s about that time.”

Rachel seemed hopeful when she came to the entrance to the kitchen. “Nothing looks disturbed—not as if someone bothered her here—so maybe you’re right.”

“Someone meaning Ethan or one of the Covenanters?”

“I don’t know anyone else who’d want to intrude.”

“Having Ethan on your ass is more than enough.” He followed when she disappeared from view and watched as she rummaged through the first closet she came across. “What are you hoping to find?”

“Notes. Letters. A journal. She’s been spending a lot of time here. Maybe she decided to put down her feelings about Paradise. If so, it might tell us more about Todd, Joshua, Ethan, Bart, Sarah. Who knows?”

“Good point.”

She didn’t raise her head. Was she mad at him? Part of him wished it could be as simple as “mad.”

Heading down the hall to the only bedroom, he poked his head in the bathroom, which was in even worse condition than the kitchen, and checked the cabinet. Nothing. When he reached the bedroom, he saw a black plastic garbage bag pushed under the bed. Once he’d pulled it out and started to dig through it, he realized it contained things Martha was hoping to keep, not things she intended to throw away. Mostly, it was filled with letters that had never been sent. There were also some legal papers regarding her custody suit and a commitment from an attorney, agreeing to work pro bono.

I’m sorry for your grief and want to assure you that I will do all that I can to help you regain custody of your son. I know it will be difficult for you to establish a regular life, but I honestly believe you’ll be happier in the long run for leaving Paradise. I’m willing to provide this work without charge. And the owner of the apartment building I mentioned over the phone has agreed to let you stay for at least six months. He told me to have you come to the office at the following address.

The address in that letter corresponded to their current location.

“You finally got a lucky break,” Nate muttered to Martha even though she wasn’t there to hear him.

“Did you say something?” Rachel came up from behind.

“Her attorney—a Mr. J. H. Haddock—is providing the apartment. Or, at any rate, he’s the one who made arrangements for her to stay here.”

“Who says all lawyers are greedy bastards?”

“Lots of people say that.” Nate held up several sheets of lined paper, which had been torn out of a spiral-bound notebook and folded into thirds. “I found some other letters, too.”

“Aha! I knew it.”

He shuffled through the stack. “This one’s to Todd. Here’s one to someone named Margaret. And this is to Sarah.”

“Sarah from Paradise?”

“I assume so.”

“What does it say?”

“I haven’t read it yet. Looks like—”

A knock interrupted them.

Rachel’s eyes widened and met his; then they both stood perfectly still, waiting to see what would happen next.

“Martha? Martha, are you in there?” It was a female voice, one that sounded worried and slightly unsure.

“Should we try to bluff, pretend we’re a couple of friends?” Rachel whispered. She always wanted to approach everything head-on. Nate suspected that was because she had something to prove to the world, that she felt she had to outsmart or outwit everyone else, just like she’d felt she had to outrun him this morning. But why resort to a lie unless they were forced into it?

“No, we stay put and hope she goes away,” he breathed.

The woman didn’t leave. A second later, the creak of the door suggested she’d let herself in, and the sound of her voice, clearer and louder now, confirmed it.

“Martha? I—I thought I heard you come home. Hello? Can you hear me? It’s Jean.”

Okay, now they didn’t have a choice. They couldn’t get caught cowering in the bedroom. Nate was about to make a move when Rachel nodded for him to stay put and walked out. Since it would seem less threatening to encounter a woman than a man, he was glad she’d taken the initiative.

“Excuse me. Are you looking for someone?”

He edged close to the open door so he could peer down the hall.

A slightly overweight redhead, wearing cutoffs and a baggy T-shirt, was partially visible—once Rachel stepped aside. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize Martha had company.”

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