Even after retching until he was empty, he was dizzy. His ears were buzzing. His mind was spinning with possible explanations. But he couldn’t land on one that sounded plausible. None would be believed. He would be charged and tried. During the trial, his affair with sexually unrestrained Norma would be exposed as an unquestionable motive. He would be sentenced to hang.
He’d witnessed a hanging once. His father had thought it would be good for his ten-year-old self to see firsthand the wages of sin. It had been ghastly. He didn’t want to die shitting his pants and twitching at the end of a rope.
Clutching his head between his hands, he tore at his hair, and sobbed.
Then as spontaneously as the panic had seized him, it vanished, and was replaced with an incredible calmness. He thought through the idea that had suddenly occurred to him. He inspected it, looking for pitfalls. It wasn’t without risks, certainly. But he didn’t want to hang.
He’d stepped over Mila’s body, went into his office, and picked up the telephone to call Mayor Croft.
“Gabe?”
The sound of his name jerked him back into the present. Arthur was no longer nursing, but sleeping on his stomach beside Norma on the divan. She frowned. “You were miles away. Were you thinking about her?”
“No.”
She knew he was lying. The first night she had showed up on his doorstep, unexpectedly and near midnight, they had fought over the guilt eating at him. Then, after pitching a temper tantrum, she had cried and begged him to forgive her for being insensitive to his plight.
“You have a reputation to protect. You must preserve it. It’s just that I miss you so much,” she’d whispered into his neck.
That smoky seductiveness was in her voice now as she ran her fingers through his hair. “Thinking about it only distresses you. You did what was necessary for us to be together, Gabe. You see that, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“It’s done. We have Arthur. We have each other.” Her lower lip began to tremble. “Would you want to change things back to the way they were before? With her?”
“No. God no. Of course not.”
“Then stop punishing yourself. Instead, take advantage of the reason you did it.” She unbuttoned her dress the rest of the way and laid it open. Except for the chemise wadded up around her waist, she was bare.
“We can’t, Norma. It’s too soon after the baby.”
She gave him a sultry smile and drew him to her. “Mama needs you.”
Afterward, when they separated, they were damp and listless and breathing heavily. Gabe slid to the floor and sat between her legs. He rested his cheek on her lap. “Did I hurt you?”
“Yes.” At his start, she pressed his head back down and laughed huskily. “It was marvelous.”
“Tease.” He turned his face into her belly.
“You came like a fire hose. I hope it cleared your thoughts of Pointer’s Gap.”
He ceased the nuzzling and looked up at her with horror. “What?”
“Pointer’s Gap. Where your dead wife is buried.”
He gave his head a violent shake as though to deny hearing what she was saying. “How did you… Nobody knows that except me.”
“And Bernie Croft.”
Gabe forced himself to swallow before he choked. “He swore to me…swore that nobody would ever know.”
She smiled placidly and stroked his cheek. “Surely you didn’t think that ‘nobody’ included me.”
Thirty-Five
With Corrine assisting, Laurel changed the dressings on Irv’s wounds. They showed no sign of festering, but, for good measure, she dabbed on some coal oil before wrapping him in a fresh bandage.
Once that was done, she left him to rest while she prepared to make the necessary trip to the still and to get Corrine settled in the shack. There was no question of her happiness over her new position. She celebrated by dancing a little jig.
They raided the pantry and icebox for foodstuffs that would last her for several days. As they carried the parcels from the house, Laurel said, “Don’t forget your things. Did you leave them in Irv’s truck last night?”
“What things?”
Laurel stopped and looked at her. “Your belongings.”
Corrine swept her hand down her front. “What I got on is what I’ve got to my name. When Mr. Hutton stopped cussing and told me to get in, I got in. And anyway, there was nothing at the roadhouse I wanted bad enough to go back for.”
“Clothes?”
“This is what I was wearing the night I ran off with Jack. Gert gave me some castoff dresses, but she’s probably passed them on to