Deceit

would talk to me alone.”

He had that right. I’d have never opened the door.

Baxter saw my hardening expression and flicked a glance at Steve—see what I mean?

My cheeks grew hotter. Here stood this detestable man in my house—this wife beater, this murderer, and all the while his voice dripped with feigned hurt at my shortcomings. I couldn’t imagine how Linda survived living with such a hypocrite.

Oh, wait. She hadn’t.

“Joanne.” Steve shifted on his feet. “Can we resolve this?”

“What’s to resolve?”

He tilted his head. “You’ve made some pretty strong allegations against Baxter publicly—”

“I did not make them publicly. They were overheard, and a reporter printed them. That was never my intent.”

“Okay. But now that’s happened, the allegations are out there.”

“So talk to the reporter.”

Surprise flicked across my pastor’s face. He’d never seen me act like this—toward him or anyone else.

“We came here to talk to you, Joanne.” Baxter’s voice remained ever so calm, his eyes gleaming with sincerity. “I just want to reassure you that I never did anything to hurt Linda or Cherisse. I mourn the death of both my wives more than you can know.”

“Jackson will kill you if he finds out.”

My arms shook. I wanted to punch out Baxter’s lights. This man was the reason I’d been driven from my own home last night, why I was now afraid to sleep here at all. How dare he come here? Even for Baxter Jackson, this was over the top.

“This involves more than just you and Baxter,” Steve prodded. “Many in the church are upset about it. I just hoped we could talk it out.”

A horrifying thought spun through my head. What if Baxter was doing more than playing righteous in front of his pastor? Inside, he had to be livid. If something bad did happen to me after that newspaper article, surely someone would raise Baxter’s name as my only known enemy. Now he had a witness that he’d never want to do me harm. That he’d been so forgiving, despite my transgressions.

Fear intertwined with my anger. That combination—and the caffeine and no sleep—prickled my whole body with heat. I glared at Baxter, my eyes telegraphing that I knew the truth. He’d sent someone here last night. He would do anything to silence me.

His disgusting charade was over.

My finger raised, pointing at Baxter. I turned narrowed eyes on Steve. “This man beat his first wife.” My voice trembled, but I didn’t care. “I don’t know about Cherisse, but I know about Linda. She showed me the bruises, Steve. Big, purple. On her back, where no one else could see. She sat right here on my deck, raised her shirt, and showed me.”

Baxter’s head pulled back as if he’d been struck. “That’s a lie.”

“No, Baxter, you’re the liar. You walk around Mr. Perfect Christian. Generous King of Vonita. I know who you really are. And so, don’t forget, does God.”

“Joanne,” Steve’s voice rose, “that’s just preposterous. I’ve known Baxter for years. And I knew Linda. Never once did she come to me—”

“Of course not. She was the newcomer. It would be her word against the whole town’s. And she was scared to death of what Baxter would do to her if she told.”

“You have no proof of that!” Baxter’s face crimsoned. He leaned toward me, a vein pulsing in his neck. “And I’m telling you, you’d better stop. I’ll sue you for slander—”

“Wait.” Steve pressed a hand against Baxter’s arm. “Let’s just calm down.”

Baxter straightened, breathing hard. A saw blade wouldn’t have cut through his jaw.

“Joanne.” Steve swallowed. “I don’t know what was on Linda’s mind. But I just can’t believe what she told you was the truth.”

My eyes burned. I loved Steve. He was a good man, a caring pastor. He was just so deceived. “And that is exactly why she never came to you.”

Baxter made a growling sound in his throat. Steve flicked a look at him, and he flexed his shoulders, clearly working to get hold of himself. How hard it must have been for him. How he must have wanted to strangle me right then.

Is that how he killed Linda?

“Clearly, coming here has been a mistake.” Baxter’s voice hardened to ice. “Sorry I wasted your time, Steve.”

My pastor cast me a pleading look. My heart squeezed. He didn’t deserve to be in the middle of this. How devastated he and my whole church would be when they learned the truth.

At that thought, a little vial within me broke, spilling over the rage. Did I really want to hurt my church like this? People would be torn up for months. It’s not easy learning you’ve been deceived by someone you deeply trusted. Some may blame it on God, especially the younger folks who hadn’t before experienced betrayal. If one of the church’s strongest Christians turned out to be a sham, how could God be trusted? How could any other Christian be trusted? Their faith could be shaken to the core.

I could stop the search for Melissa right now, somehow manage to apologize to Baxter. Let the church just go on as it always had.

But how could I ever live with my conscience before God?

“I’m sorry too, Steve,” I said. “I never wanted this. Don’t worry about church today—I won’t be there.”

“No, Joa—”

I held up a palm, shook my head. “It’s okay. Really. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. Just…go now. Please? I have work to do here.”

My eyes locked with Baxter’s.

Steve hung back, as if still trying to find a way to fix it. I opened the door. My pastor sent a sad smile my way, then stepped out on the porch.

In the moment Steve’s back turned, Baxter cast a burning look of pure hatred upon me. His lips curled into a snarl. Only Steve’s presence kept him from going for my throat.

Fear shriveled down my spine.

Baxter’s murderous expression melted as he stepped outside. He turned back, puffed with righteous indignation. Amazing, how he could do that. “God will judge what you have done to me.”

I slammed the door behind the men and bolted the lock. Leaned against the wood, listening to their footsteps fade down the sidewalk. Two car doors opened and closed.

My legs went weak. I’d done it now. Crossed a Rubicon with Baxter Jackson. Until Melissa led authorities to Linda’s body, I’d have to watch my back every minute. Even in daylight.

TWENTY-ONE

It took me some time to settle down after Steve and Baxter left. I wandered around the house, drinking water to dilute the caffeine in my system, and praying. And worrying. What my pastor must think of me right now. I could only imagine the words Baxter filled his head with on their drive away from my place.

Once I passed Billy Bass and forgot to duck. He flipped into song—and I jumped so hard I hit the opposite wall.

After about twenty minutes my jitters subsided enough to return to what must be done. I found my way back to the computer, perched in my chair. Refocused my thoughts.

Time to call Tony Whistman. Find out if Melissa Harkoff still lived at his address, and if so, was she the right one. The one who could put Baxter Jackson behind bars.

I brought up Tony’s website and honed in on his phone number. Most likely a cell. Realtors needed to be available to potential clients at all times. I jotted the phone number down on the yellow pad on my desk. My mouse