Looking Through Darkness (28 page)

“Is that all right with you, uncle?” Jo asked Rudy. He nodded.

While Rudy spoke to his mechanic, Leigh Ann loaded his boxes into her Jeep. When she came back for her purse, Jo intercepted her in the hall. “Don't travel out there alone, not after all that's been happening. Take Sam with you.”

Sam, who'd been standing a few feet away, cleared her throat. “I was hoping to set up the Wi-Fi today,” she said.

“Then I'll go with Leigh Ann,” Regina said.

“Guys, I have a better idea,” Leigh Ann said. “Regina will be needed here to help Esther get the fabric display set up. So how about this—I'll take Rudy home and before I head back, I'll stop and pick up Melvin, if that'll work for him. I promised I'd give him a ride later anyway so he could run some errands,” she said. “I'll ask if he minds staying here until I get off work. There are some things I'd like to talk to him about.”

Leigh Ann hoped to get the opportunity to talk to Melvin about her latest discovery. Last night, she'd stayed up late searching the Internet and found a report of the accident in the online edition of the Farmington newspaper. There was an image of Melvin, already a known photographer, but no photo of the drunk driver, who was listed as “Ronald Jonas.”

She'd remembered hearing about the incident at the time, but that was years before she'd met Melvin, so she hadn't read any details or thought any more about it at the time. Now she'd been able to identify the man's parents—his next of kin—and had found a listing that had included their address, hopefully still current.

“Okay,” Jo said. “We can open up now. During the times when we're not busy with customers, we can start moving things around here to make room for the coffee bar and to relocate some of the merchandise. If we're lucky, we can rearrange things without needing to close.”

 

— SEVENTEEN —

Leigh Ann had just arrived at Melvin's home when her cell phone rang. Seeing it was Jo, she answered quickly, hoping there'd been news about Ben, but the second Leigh Ann heard Jo's expressionless tone, that hope faded.

“Where are you right now?” Jo asked.

“At Melvin's,” she said. “I'll be back at the trading post in thirty or forty minutes.”

“No, don't bother. That's why I'm calling. I just got a call and the coffee bar and tables are going to be delivered within the next few hours. Once the stuff arrives, we're closing for the day, assuming the plumber can get here. I'm also checking to see who, if anyone beyond a certified plumber, needs to approve the hookup. It's new to me; Tom always handled that stuff. To complicate things even more, Sam had a problem with the router that'll provide the Wi-Fi. She's going to be putting in long hours today.”

“How long will the trading post be closed?”

“Hopefully, just for the rest of today,” Jo said.

After they exchanged good-byes and disconnected, Leigh Ann saw that Melvin had come to the door. She got out of the Jeep quickly and followed him inside.

“I'm curious,” he said as they walked through the house. “Does it seem rude to you that I go ahead of you whenever possible?”

“No, I never even thought about it. I just figured you knew where you were going. That is, until you bump into something,” she teased.

“Very funny. At least I do that less in my own home. You know, it's always been second nature to me to go first. Anglo culture has the man step back politely so the woman can go ahead of him. Navajos do the opposite, and I've got to say, it makes a lot more sense to me. If there's trouble, the man would face it first.”

She smiled. “An alternate take on chivalry and manners. I've got to say, I like the Navajo way better.”

“The temperature is always coolest in this room,” he said, once they reached the den. “That's why I work in here.”

The sculpture was on the table, covered with a black plastic bag. “I guess you don't need me to sit for you anymore?” she asked, disappointed.

“Actually, I do, but only to capture the mood, your spirit if that explains it better. When you're happy, or sad, or worried, all that comes out in your voice, and that helps me add defining touches to the figure. It's almost finished.”

“Can I take just a quick little peek?” she asked. “I'm dying here!”

He laughed. “No, not yet. Soon, I promise.” He locked the turntable in place to keep it from moving, then put away the sculpture. “I've been working on this for hours, so I'm ready for a break. You came just at the right time. Would you like something cold to drink?” he asked, heading to the kitchen.

“Yeah, I'd love it. It's already hot out there today,” she said.

“So tell me, what brings you over this early?” he asked, pouring iced tea into two glasses.

She told him what had happened at the trading post and about the likely connection between Sorrelhorse, Total Supply, and Kurt's shooting.

“What you know, or at least suspect, could end up putting all three men in prison. If they're guilty, you've just given them even more reason to get you out of the way for good. Do you realize that?”

“Yes, but I'm through being scared,” she said. “Fear's a strange thing. It can't sustain itself. After a while, it loosens its hold on you because you're too tired to give it the energy it demands.”

“I hear you, but you'll still have to stay alert, Leigh Ann.”

“I will,” she said, then after taking a sip of her iced tea, continued. “Now it's my turn to help you, but first, there's something I need to know. Are you prepared to look into what happened the night of your accident? I mean, really ready—no matter what answers you find?”

“Yeah, I am. I'm tired of second-guessing myself, and wondering if I could have done something more.”

“Okay then,” she said, telling him what she'd managed to find on the Internet about Ronald Jonas and his family.

“What do you think we could learn from his parents?”

“I'm not sure, but it's a place to start.”

“All right. Let's go,” he said, finishing his drink. “You asked me if I was ready to face things squarely, and I am, but what about you? While looking into this you may learn things about me you wished you'd never known. You've been curious but cautious lately, and I suspect that my uncle John has mentioned I've been moody and have had trouble sleeping.”

“Maybe, but do you think I'll suddenly hate you and walk away because you're going through some issues? That's not going to happen,” she answered. “I'm on your side, Melvin, just as you're on mine in dealing with Kurt's murder and the backlash from that.”

“You're right, Leigh Ann. We've got each other's back, and nothing can change that.”

As she looked at Melvin, she knew her future lay with him, and that she was making the right choice. When you got right down to it, you could only live life in the present, and that made moments too precious to waste. Once they were clear of the roadblocks in their way right now, she'd be free to go with her heart.

*   *   *

Less than a half hour later they arrived at the Waterflow home of Mr. and Mrs. Carl Jonas, the parents of Ronald Jonas, the forty-year-old who'd caused Melvin's accident.

As Leigh Ann parked beside the mailbox identified with the Jonas name, she took a deep breath, noting the carefully tended lawn and bed of roses beneath what looked like the living room window. A small green garden wheelbarrow containing pulled weeds and a leaf rake was sitting beside the narrow sidewalk. Centered along the wall was the covered porch, where two empty wicker chairs stood side by side.

The house was smaller and probably older than others along the street in this development, but was clearly well maintained. “This is it,” she told Melvin. “There's a curb here, so the step down, then up might be tricky. I'll come around.”

Several seconds later, as they walked up the sidewalk, Leigh Ann noticed a tall, thin man, who appeared to be in his seventies, standing inside at the window beside the curtains. No matter what they learned, she couldn't help but feel sorry for a mother and father who'd lost their child in such a sudden and violent manner. Like Melvin, they also had to live with what Ronald had done.

As they stepped up onto the porch, the man opened the front door. “Can I help you?” he called out, then stiffened the instant he saw them up close. Leigh Ann got the distinct impression that he recognized Melvin.

She could see through the small entryway into the living room, where an elderly woman in a flowered housedress was sitting on a large sofa, staring blankly at the television.

Melvin quickly introduced himself and got right to the point. “Mr. Jonas, I need to ask you some questions about the night of the accident, five years ago.”

He shook his head. “There's nothing more I want to say. It's over. My son made a mistake, and he paid for his sins.” Mr. Jonas turned to glance at a large photograph on the wall trimmed with black ribbon.

Leigh Ann looked at the photo of Ronald Jonas, did a double take and gasped, her stomach sinking as she realized for the first time just who he had been.

“You okay?” Melvin whispered, squeezing her hand.

She nodded, struggling to calm her racing heart. “I'm fine. Go ahead.”

Melvin spoke. “I'm so sorry for your loss, sir, but that night I also lost something. My sight,” he added gently.

“I'm sorry for what you've gone through, Mr. Littlewater, but my son lost a lot more—his life. That's all the revenge you'll get.”

“Sir, I'm not interested in revenge or apologies,” Melvin said, his voice calm and low. “We didn't come to upset you or your wife, either. I'm just trying to put some things together, details I can't seem to remember clearly.”

“Like what?” he asked hesitantly.

“Before my sight faded away, I know I saw a young girl, maybe nine or ten years old, at the site of the accident.”

The man's face paled, and he took a step back. “No more! Go away. My wife and I have been through enough since that night. After our son's death my Hazel had a stroke. She's never been the same. There's nothing more I can tell you, so please leave.”

“Sir, if you could just tell me one thing,” Melvin pressed. “Did your son have anyone with him in his car that night?”

Mr. Jonas visually sagged, then he sucked in a shaky breath. “Get off my property right now or I'll call the police,” he snapped, then slammed the door shut.

Trying to focus on what was most important right now, Leigh Ann held on to Melvin's hand as they walked back down the sidewalk. “Something's not right here,” Leigh Ann said. “His reaction was way over the top. He's hiding something.”

“You mean how he paused after I asked if his son had someone with him that night?”

“Yes, and he reacted visibly, too.”

“What did you see?” Melvin asked.

“Anger at first, then fear,” she said.

“Anger, for stirring up memories. I get that, but what is he worried about? Nothing more can hurt his son.”

“I think we need to find out,” she replied, helping him into the Jeep.

“How?”

“Let me think about it a moment,” she said, switching on the ignition. She drove to the end of the block, then abruptly decided to go back and circle the neighborhood. Her head was still swimming in the knowledge that there was a connection between her and Ronald Jonas. Until now he'd only been the faceless drunk who'd almost killed the man she loved.

It was something she now had to make up for, and the only way she knew to do that was to help Melvin in his own quest for the truth.

“We're going back to that house?”

“No, but I think we should try to talk to a few of the Jonases' neighbors. The houses here are close together and it reminds me of one of the neighborhoods Rache and I lived in as kids. Everyone knew everyone else's business. I have a feeling it's the same here.”

She looked around and saw that a home two doors down from the Jonas residence had a sign in its front yard, announcing a neighborhood association meeting to be held there later that night.

“This is a good bet,” she said, explaining her discovery to Melvin as she pulled up to the curb. “People involved in neighborhood watches usually know what's going on with their neighbors.”

They climbed out of the Jeep and walked up the sidewalk together, as before. Leigh Ann knocked on the door and placed her hand over Melvin's where it rested on her arm. Never before had the urge to hang on to him been so strong.

An attractive redheaded woman in her early thirties answered the door. Leigh Ann introduced herself and Melvin, then added, “Can we talk to you a minute about Ronald Jonas?”

The woman nodded and gave her name as Mrs. Naomi Ortega. “Come in,” she said, ushering them into her living room. Leigh Ann and Melvin took seats on the couch and Mrs. Ortega made herself comfortable in a nearby chair.

“Ronald's accident happened five years ago; why is it important now?” she asked in a gentle voice, looking at Leigh Ann, then Melvin.

Melvin said, “What happened to me can't be undone, but I need closure. I believe someone else was there at the accident site that night, a young girl.”

“I remember hearing about that possibility back then. If I recall, the police searched the entire area, especially downstream along the canal. They never found evidence that suggested anyone else was present or had witnessed the accident. There were tracks everywhere, of course. Dozens of people stopped after the accident,” Mrs. Ortega said. “Maybe you were confused because of your injuries?”

Leigh Ann could tell that she meant no disrespect, and from Melvin's calm response, she suspected that he felt the same. “It's true that no one reported a missing child, but the girl might have been a runaway from out of the area,” he said.