Convicted Page 6

  "Al, stop it right now," Lisa snapped. She jerked the pie plate away from her sister and tossed it in the sink, not caring if it broke. "I'm not in the mood!"

  "I came home and you weren't here," Allegra cried through her mouthful of food.

  Lisa pointed to the notepad by the yellow wall phone. "I left you a note."

  Her sister swiped her mouth with the back of her hand and got up from the table. As she pulled open the refrigerator door, Lisa saw Allegra wore a short, leather skirt. No stockings. Her feet were bare with expertly painted crimson toenails. Allegra yanked the carton of milk from the door and began gulping the contents. Milk splattered on her and on the floor.

  "Enough!" As Lisa snatched the carton from her sister, she slid a little in the puddle. She shoved the carton back in the fridge. "Go to bed, Allegra!"

  "You weren't here when I got home," Allegra said. "And...the...house...was...dark!"

  Lisa felt like crying. She took her sister by the arm and pushed her down into her chair. "I left the light on in here for you. I left you a note. And don't tell me you waited for me here, Allegra, because I can tell by the way you're dressed that you went out anyway."

  A sly smile painted itself across Allegra's face. "You missed a really great time, Lisa."

  "Clean yourself up, and clean this place up," Lisa said coldly. "I mean it, Allegra."

  Allegra whined, a nasty, creeping noise that rose the hair on Lisa's neck. "Why didn't you wait for me, Lisa?"

  "I didn't want to go out to some bar and watch you get drunk and flirt," Lisa said bluntly.

  Allegra frowned. "You could've asked me out to dinner, too. You just didn't want to be with me."

  That was true, but Lisa knew better than to say so. "Go to bed."

  Allegra surveyed the mess in front of her. "Oh, God, I ate all this? I ate all this? I ate all this?"

  Lisa watched her sister's throat work, and disgust rose in her. "Dammit, Allegra, if you're going to puke, do it in the bathroom!"

  Allegra slammed the table with her hand, making the ashtray jump. "Why are you always so mean to me?"

  Lisa began to count to ten inside her head. She could have turned and walked away up the stairs to her bedroom, but that would not have stopped Allegra's outburst. Now she counted. She continued on to twenty before she felt calm enough to reply.

  "You are my sister and I love you," she said. "But we've been over this and over this, Allegra. I have a life. I have to have a life, Al!"

  Allegra's look of scorn cut Lisa so deeply she felt like she might be the one to get sick. "With Terry? Oh, please. I've seen you get more excited about a new pair of shoes."

  Her sister hit close to the mark, but Lisa wasn't about to admit it. "What do you have against Terry?"

  "You deserve better," Allegra muttered. She lit another cigarette, but as usual, didn't smoke it. Allegra never smoked them, just burned them.

  Lisa had heard that before. "That's for me to decide."

  "I'm going to bed," Allegra said, as though Lisa's comment wasn't worth answering.

  Even though that was all Lisa wanted--to sink into her bed and go to sleep--Allegra's casual response infuriated her. "I'm not cleaning up your mess this time. You made it. You clean it."

  Allegra looked stunned. Then her eyes narrowed. "I'll do it tomorrow."

  Lisa knew her sister well enough to know that wouldn't happen. The mess on the table and sink would begin to draw flies before Allegra would take care of it. "Do it now."

  "You can't tell me what to do," Allegra said.

  Lisa squared her shoulders. "You spoiled, little brat. I'm tired of cleaning up after you! When you moved in here, we agreed you'd do your share. I expect you to start doing it!"

  It was like watching a movie in fast forward. One minute Allegra was scowling, her face dark with fury, and in the next second she was wreathed in smiles. "Sure. Okay. You're right."

  Lisa, who'd been prepared to go to battle, felt herself deflate in the face of Allegra's sudden good humor. "Thank you."

  "Boy," Allegra joked as she began clearing the trash from the table. "Getting knocked on your ass really put you in a bad mood."

  It wasn't until she was slipping into her cozy sheets that Lisa realized something strange. How had Allegra known about the mugging? Lisa hadn't told her.

  * * * *

  Deacon had every intention of quitting Monday morning. He went to Doug Shadd's office, knocked on the door, and went inside when Doug invited him to. He even opened his mouth to explain he appreciated the job offer, but he'd be unable to continue.

  Twenty minutes later, he left Doug's office with a thick file of notes, site photos and budget requirements for a new town project. As he walked down the hall toward the doors leading outside to the greenhouse, he couldn't help smiling ruefully. Now he knew where Lisa got her stubborn will.

  Doug hadn't given him a minute to list his reasons for quitting. In a way, Deacon was glad for the older man's take-charge attitude. Without this job, he'd never be able to move back out on his own. He didn't want to work at the Evergreen forever.

  Leaving St. Mary's wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. He'd done it before during his brief stint in college and for internships at some of the larger horticultural facilities in the state. Hershey, with its chocolate-scented air and bushes shaped to spell the name of the factory, had been nice. So had working in Lancaster for Longwood Gardens. He'd particularly enjoyed the water gardens there.

  But nothing beat coming back home to the mountains.

  Allegra waited for him outside his office door. Today, instead of black leather, she wore a blue-and-white checked dress that looked like it came straight out of a 1950's tv sitcom. She even had a string of pearls looped around her neck. The dress might be a vintage resale shop find, but those pearls weren't costume jewelry. Allegra toyed with the strand as though enticing him to comment on the necklace's beauty. Deacon didn't.

  "Good morning, Allegra," he said politely, and tried to brush past her into the office.

  "So, you and Lisa are going to be working on the new Memorial Park children's garden. Should be fun." Allegra leaned back against the doorframe, blocking his entrance.

  Lisa? Deacon's smile turned to a frown as he thought of Doug's good-natured insistence he take this particular project. He hadn't mentioned Lisa when giving it to Deacon.

  As if sensing his distress, Allegra gave him a commiserating smile. "It won't be that bad."

  She was up to something. He just didn't know what. "Why would it be bad?"

  Allegra's look was knowing. "Don't play dumb with me, Deacon. Or maybe you're not playing."

  He ignored her jibe about his intelligence. "I need to get into my office."

  "I'm just surprised you can stand to look at her after what she did to you," Allegra said blithely, as though she hadn't heard him. "I'd never send my boyfriend to jail. My sister's just too honest for her own good. She always has to do what she thinks is...right."

  "I know."

  What should have been a compliment became an insult with Allegra's sneer. She shook her head, as though she just couldn't believe Lisa's stupidity. Deacon physically pushed past her, and Allegra laughed as she stepped out of his way.

  After he shut the door, Deacon thought about Allegra's words. Lisa had to do what she thought was right. It was something he admired about her, something he liked. Until, of course, her honest nature had sent him to jail.

  But could he blame her? He'd seen the surveillance tapes. If he hadn't known he was in the bathroom while the real criminal stole his helmet and committed the crime, Deacon would have thought himself guilty, too. There was no denying the similarity in build, dress and demeanor between him and the real perp--not to mention the guy was wearing his cycle helmet. Deacon knew Lisa really believed him to be the man on the tapes who helped himself to the cash register. What he didn't understand was how she could have believed her eyes and not her heart?

  There was no use dwelling on the pa
st. Their relationship was long over and cold in the ground. He should just let it stay dead.

  Deacon nonchalantly hung his denim work shirt over the camera lens. Let them try and see through that! Then he spread out the file's contents carefully.

  The project, an expansion of the already spacious Memorial Park recreation area, called for a special children's garden. Kid-friendly plantings like sunflowers, marigolds, corn and pumpkins were to be interspersed with a series of flowers chosen specifically to bloom all season long. The city council had also outlined plans for a water garden section. Deacon's job was to choose the sorts of plants that would work in the setting, design a pond and waterfall, the paths, benches and specialty areas. He settled into his chair and lost himself in the work.

  * * * *

  A knock on the door coincided with his growling stomach and he realized it was lunch time. "Come in."

  "Looks like we'll be working together." Lisa paused in the doorway, looking fresh in white slacks and a light denim shirt. Again, she had her hair pulled up. He wondered what she'd do if he reached out and tugged it down to tumble around her shoulders.

  "Yeah." There was more he could say, but small talk didn't appeal to him.

  "I wanted to make sure you were okay with that."

  "Why wouldn't I be?" He got up from his desk, stiff from the hours of sitting. His back crackled and popped as he stretched, and so did his neck. "I'm just about ready to head out for lunch."

  "May I join you?"

  He hadn't expected that. Deacon gave Lisa a hard look. "Why?"

  "Because I'm hungry, too."

  He shrugged. "All right."

  He didn't ask her where she wanted to go, but she followed him out through the greenhouse and into the back parking lot.

  "Do you want to follow me?" He asked pointing at his bike.

  "Let's ride together."

  For a moment, he thought she meant on the Harley. In a flash, his mind recalled the way she felt straddling the cycle behind him, her arms tucked firmly around his waist, her cheek pressed against his back. She'd always laughed when riding, saying the wind tickled her.

  Then he saw she meant for him to go in her car, and he realized she was waiting for an answer. He wanted nothing more than to be on his motorcycle in the warm summer sunshine, feeling the wind on his face, but he nodded instead. Something about Lisa always had him saying yes.

  "What are you hungry for?" Lisa was a careful driver, eyes on the road, hands planted firmly on the wheel. It occurred to him suddenly that he'd never driven with her before. They'd always gone on his bike.

  "Fried chicken," he said, because all at once that was all he could think about. "Biscuits, slaw, the works."

  She laughed lightly, but her humor sounded strained. "Okay." She hesitated. "I thought we'd go over to the park and check out the site. We can eat there."

  For a minute he'd thought she wanted to talk to him about the things that had happened. "Sounds good."

  She swung through the drive-thru window at Fred's Chicken and Cream and picked up a bucket of the fresh, delicious fried chicken and all the sides. Deacon's stomach rumbled as he held the grease-spotted paper bucket. In the past three months since he'd been home, it seemed that he craved spicy, flavorful food. Jail food had provided his body's basic needs, but nothing more.

  In just a few minutes, they arrived at Memorial Park. Today, with the sun shining, the playground teemed with hordes of children running and jumping along the huge castle play structure. Lisa parked in the lot and helped him gather up the bags of food.

  "It's going to be over here." She pointed past the pool and beyond one of the baseball diamonds. "It's going to replace that old field, which will be rebuilt on the other side of the park."

  Some trees shaded one of the benches away from the hustle and bustle of the playground. Deacon sat down on one end and Lisa at the other. They spread the food between them, opened paper napkins, popped the tabs on soft drinks. The cole slaw and potato salad were perfectly tangy and the biscuits as flaky and buttery as he'd dreamed. The chicken, under its crispy exterior, practically melted in his mouth. The food was so good it wiped nearly every other thought from his mind.

  "I didn't bring you here just to see the site," Lisa said quietly. She hadn't even taken a bite. "I wanted to talk to you about what happened that night."

  Here it was--his chance to ask her why. Deacon looked at her clear gray eyes, at her honey hair, at the way her full mouth pursed with trepidation. All at once, he wasn't sure he wanted to ask her anything at all.

  Chapter 5

  * * *

  Lisa came straight to the point. "Why did you do it?"

  Deacon carefully set down the handful of biscuit and chicken, then wiped his fingers on his jeans. "I didn't."

  Had she really expected a different answer? "I saw you," Lisa said in a low voice.

  "You saw someone." Deacon began wrapping the food. "If that's all you have to say, I think I'm done."

  Lisa didn't want it to be done. She reached out her hand, desperate to talk to him, to figure out why he'd done what he did. To learn why, even now, he continued to lie.

  "Deacon, if it wasn't you, who was it?"

  He didn't pull his hand away--not at first. Then he removed his fingers from her grip and wiped them again on his jeans. Like her touch had made him dirty. The action made her want to cry.

  "I don't know. Someone who lifted my helmet while I was in the bathroom."

  "The police didn't find anyone else, and they were there within ten minutes," Lisa said. "They searched the whole place. They found the money in your pocket...."

  "I wasn't wearing the jacket," Deacon said. "Or the helmet. I was washing my hands in the bathroom when they busted in and grabbed me. I know what you saw on the video, Lisa, and I can't explain it any more than you can. But it wasn't me."

  "Why won't you stop lying?" she cried.

  "Why won't you trust me?" he countered.

  "Because I know what I saw," Lisa told him. She slurped at a soda to quench her dry throat, thought the sweet beverage made her feel slightly nauseous.

  "I'm done," Deacon said, dismissing her. He stood, tossing a crumpled napkin onto the remains of his half-eaten lunch. "I'll meet you back at the office."

  His story hadn't changed. He looked at her with a gaze gone stormy, but Lisa did not look away. She had to know.

  "Was it all a lie then?" she asked quietly.

  Her question stopped him from going. Deacon stood over her, fists clenched. She watched him physically force himself to relax. He flexed his fingers, and she saw he'd pressed half-moons into his palms from the strength of his grip.

  "I can't say I've never lied in my life," Deacon said. His gaze pinned her like a bug on a piece of collector's velvet. "But I've never lied to you, Lisa. Not about that night. Not about anything."

  Now she did cry, the tears hot and stinging in her throat. Burning drops slid down her cheeks, and she was helpless to stop them. His response was what she'd waited three years to hear, but even now, she couldn't believe him.

  "You know what hurt the worst?" he asked her, almost hypothetically. "That you never even tried to find out why I'd do such a damn stupid thing. That you just took what you saw at face value without asking yourself if you really believed it could be me."

  "I had no choice," she cried. "They asked me to make a statement, Deacon. I couldn't lie!"

  "You never spoke to me after that night. You never called. You never came to see me. You never even wrote," Deacon told her. A casual observer might have missed the tremor in his voice, but to Lisa it was entirely too clear. "You just wrote me off like a bad investment."

  His words stunned her. Lisa wiped her cheeks, shaking her head. "But...but I did! I did write you!"

  His mouth twisted. "Now who's the liar? I never got any letters!"

  "I sent you one letter," she said. "You didn't answer. I thought that was the end of things."

  "I never got it."

>   "I sent it," she insisted. She could see he didn't believe her.

  "Catch-22," Deacon said. "Seems neither one of us can trust the other."

  "We had something once," Lisa said. "We almost had something wonderful."

  "You think so?" Deacon raised his eyebrow at her. "Something so wonderful you were willing to send me to jail?"

  "I wasn't willing!" Furiously, she began bundling the food into the containers. It gave her hands something to do to keep them from slapping his face. "For God's sake, Deacon, it tore me apart to do that to you!"

  "Did it?" he asked so softly she almost missed it.

  Lisa stopped fooling with the lunch and met his gaze. "Yes. It did."

  "Sure it did," Deacon said. "Tore you up so much you ran right into the comforting arms of Officer Friendly. Tell me, Lisa, did he ask you out that night, or did he at least wait until they sent me away?"

  "Terry and I have only been dating for three months," Lisa replied stiffly. "Not that it's any of your business."

  "Not unless your boyfriend keeps trying to make me responsible for every crime that happens in St. Mary's," Deacon said.

  "Terry is just doing his job." Lisa gathered the containers and shoved them haphazardly back inside the large paper sack. "It has nothing to do with me."

  "No?" Deacon scoffed. "You don't think Officer Hewitt might be a little jealous? That might be why he's always breathing down my neck."

  "Terry is a professional. And he doesn't have any reason to be jealous."

  Deacon reached out, startling her, and grabbed her hand. Lisa dropped the sack of food. Deacon stepped closer to her as he tugged her toward him. They ended up nearly touching, her face tilted up to see his.

  "Doesn't he?" Deacon whispered.

  Lisa watched the slow, lazy flick of his tongue across his lips and shivered. "Terry doesn't know," she whispered.