Chapter 17

17

* * *

“I was only going to say,” said Scrooge’s nephew, “that the consequence of his taking a dislike to us, and not making merry with us, is, as I think, that he loses some pleasant moments, which could do him no harm. I am sure he loses pleasanter companions than he can find in his own thoughts, either in his mouldy old office, or his dusty chambers. I mean to give him the same chance every year, whether he likes it or not, for I pity him. He may rail at Christmas till he dies, but he can’t help thinking better of it—I defy him—if he finds me going there, in good temper, year after year, and saying Uncle Scrooge, how are you?”

John brought Marie to church on Sunday. Although Charlie tried to concentrate on the pastor’s message, she could only replay the events of the previous Monday.

One thing was certain: Marie knew the truth about John.

She shook her head before realizing what she’d done, and she quickly looked down to the opened Bible in her lap. The words blurred as she forced herself to think through the evidence. Marie knew about John’s past. He knew about hers. Which only meant they were thick as thieves. Marie also knew about the man she’d called “Ivan the Terrible”—enough so that she’d whisked Charlie out of the office when he’d arrived to talk to John.

Charlie looked up, hoping she could focus on the pastor’s words. Instead, she caught Ashlynne looking at her from across the center aisle of the church. Ashlynne’s pretty eyes widened as she mouthed, “We need to talk.”

Charlie’s breath caught in her throat and she nodded. A quick look at her watch told her they had at least another ten minutes before the service would come to a close.

Ten minutes. May as well be ten days.

* * *

Ashlynne looped her arm with Charlie’s as soon as they exited the church, and she steered her toward the side of the building. “Will,” she said to her husband, who walked beside them. “My back is killing me. Do you mind getting the car and picking me up here?”

Charlie watched as concern crossed his face. He placed his hand on the small of her back, which bowed under the weight of their unborn child. “You okay?” He looked to her belly and back to her face.

She nodded and smiled easily. “I’m fine. A little tired is all, and I don’t want to walk that far.”

When he moved out of earshot, Charlie turned her full attention to Ashlynne. “Are you really tired? I don’t want to think you’ve lied for me.” She looked over to the brick structure beside them. “Especially not five minutes after we leave the house of God.”

Ashlynne shook her head. “Truth is, I’m not a little tired. I’m very tired.” She peered down. “And look at my feet. From what I can see, they look like puff balls.”

Charlie did. “Honestly.” She smiled. “And I’m curious. Did you know you’re wearing similar shoes but of a different color?”

Ashlynne sighed as she placed a hand on Charlie’s arm for balance, then stuck one foot out and then the other. “I’m going to shoot Will Decker when we get home,” she said. “And he better not claim to be color-blind.”

Charlie giggled. “Okay, okay.” She looked toward the parking lot. “Dead man driving will be back in a minute. So? What did you find out?”

“Your father went to prison in 1998.”

“I know that. Tell me something I don’t know.”

Ashlynne took Charlie’s hand and squeezed. “Let me do this my way.” She looked over her shoulder. “And by the way, your grandmother is over there trying to look casual as she stares at us.”

“Great,” Charlie breathed out.

“Okay. He was released in 2003, early for good behavior.”

She knew that, too.

“In 2005, he returned to prison and served eight years. When he was released, he went to a halfway house in West Virginia where he lived for six months. While there, he took a job in a shelter—”

“Ashlynne. I know all this. What do you know about this Ivan person?” She air quoted the name.

Ashlynne sighed as a car pulled up near the curb. “There’s Will.” She blinked. “To answer your question—nothing. There is absolutely zilch linking your father to anyone named Ivan. I’ve checked the prison records. No Ivan served while your father was there. I’ve checked the halfway house. Nothing. And to answer your next question, the shelter in Morganton is owned by a man named David Herbick.” She waved at William, letting him know she saw him. “Walk me to my car.”

Charlie did. “Did you find out anything on David Herbick? Like what he looks like because I got a good look at this man when we passed each other in the hall.”

Ashlynne kept her eyes on the ground in front of her. “Not really. I pulled up an images search, but all I got was a bunch of strangers’ faces and a few of David Beckham.”

“David Beckham?”

“There’s no accounting for Google. But as to what I know about David Herbick, to be honest, not much other than that he owns a good bit of the downtown area where the shelter is. He ran for city council once and lost.” She stopped on the sidewalk. “But that was a few years ago, and there was no picture with the article other than one from a distance.” She paused. “He was shaking the hand of the man who defeated him.”

Will got out of the car and opened the passenger side door. “Hon?”

“Coming, sweetie. Give me one second.” She turned back to Charlie. “He’s been married to the same woman since right after high school. Three kids—all at NC State.”

“A dead end then.”

“Or,” Ashlynne said, “maybe there is nothing to find. Remember what I said. We journalists don’t see guilt or innocence until we’ve looked at the facts. If we can’t find guilt, we have to presume innocence.”

But Charlie shook her head. “No, Ash. There’s something. Trust me. And one way or the other, I’m going to figure out what it is.”

Ashlynne squeezed her hand once more. “My prayers are with you then.” She started to take a step, then stopped. “Remember, Charlie, sometimes we open someone else’s can of worms to our own detriment.”

Charlie understood the words of warning. Years earlier, Ashlynne had uncovered dirt on the high school football coach, but she’d done so unethically and illegally. She’d been given a firm warning on top of a hefty fine, but that had been the least of her problems. The town of Testament had taken its own sweet time in offering forgiveness to her for revealing a harsh truth about its beloved citizen.

“Hmm,” Charlie said. “Still, when you’re right about someone, you’re right about someone.”

And Charlie had no doubt, when it came to John Dixon, she was one hundred percent right.

* * *

Sis met Charlie halfway back to the parking lot. “What were you two talking about?” she asked, turning back toward the cars. “It looked intense.”

“Oh,” Charlie said, her mind searching for an answer, “this and that.”

“Well,” Sis said, looking to where John, Marie, Dusty, and Jeremy stood in a semicircle, waiting on them. “I’ve asked everyone to come back to the house for lunch. I think the pot roast I put in the Crock-Pot will be enough to serve everyone, but I’m not sure about dessert.”

Charlie sucked in her breath.

“I know,” Sis said. “I knew your father was coming, but I hadn’t counted on his new friend.”

“Girlfriend, Sis. They’re dating.”

Sis stopped. “Does that bother you?”

“In a way. A little.” She shook her head. “Not really, I just don’t think of Dad as, you know, being romantic at this point in his life.” Charlie looked back to the small group to see Dusty smiling at her. She returned the expression as a thought came to mind. “Hey, Sis? Do you mind if I ride back to the house with Dusty? We can stop at the grocery’s bakery and pick up a pie.”

Her grandmother winked. “I think that’s a marvelous idea.” Sis’s face brightened. “And I think I’d like to spend a little time with Master Jeremy, so why don’t I have him ride with me? That way you and Dusty can be alone.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “He has to sit in a car seat, Sis.”

“Oh, pooh. Those things can be moved, can’t they?”

Minutes later, Jeremy’s car seat had been transferred from Dusty’s car to Sis’s, and everyone had gotten into the assigned automobiles. After a quick trip to the bakery, Charlie and Dusty headed back to the car. As soon as Dusty closed the driver’s door and started the car, he said, “Okay. I’m sure you put Ashlynne up to some sort of investigative work. And I’m equally sure you’re going to tell me about it.”

Charlie frowned as she crossed her arms. “She came up with nothing. There’s no Ivan to speak of—unless his name is really David—and everything Sis told me about my father is true.”

“So then maybe your father is on the up-and-up, and there’s nothing to be suspicious of?”

“Dusty,” Charlie said, turning as best she could under the constraints of the seat belt. “I saw a man they called Ivan. I heard what my father said to him. Something is going on. Now, I have a question. Something that just dawned on me.”

“Oh boy.”

Charlie looked out the windshield.

“Dusty, how do folks buy their tickets to the play? Online or at the door?”

“Mostly online. At the door is cash only, assuming we have seating available.”

“How many tickets have you sold so far?”

“Almost all of them. We might have twenty seats left.” He looked her way. “Where are you going with this, Charlie?”

“How is the shelter in Morganton getting the funds?”

“It’s being transferred into the shelter’s account.”

“When?”

“I don’t know, honestly. That’s not my role in this.”

Charlie sighed. “But will they get it before or after the play?”

“Again. I don’t know.”

“Then who would?”

He shrugged. “Your grandmother, maybe.” They pulled into the driveway. The family was still outside, having been delayed by Jeremy’s fascination with some autumn leaves. “Charlie?”

“What?”

The car slowed to a stop. Dusty turned off the engine and then looked at her fully. “Why don’t you stop all this? If Ashlynne can’t find anything, then maybe there’s nothing to be found.” He unbuckled his seat belt, and Charlie did the same. “Or—and here’s an idea for you—give this thing to God. Ask Him to reveal the unseen things. He knows the hearts of men, after all.”

Charlie felt the wind ease out of her sails. “I want to, Dusty. And that all sounds good in theory. But what . . . what if I’m right? I don’t want Sis to have to live in Testament—” She glanced out the window to see John staring at her, and she forced a smile. “I don’t want Sis to have to live here after the storm dies down. If he steals all the money from these good people, well, she’s risking more than I think she realizes.” The family had gone inside, Jeremy holding Sis’s hand. “Dusty, I lived in Testament with no one knowing the truth. And Sis never had to say a word. But if I’m right, then the one thing we’ve tried so hard to keep hidden will be exposed.”

Dusty reached for the door handle. “Don’t underestimate your grandmother, Charlie. I think she’s a whole lot smarter than you give her credit for.”