Letters from Peaceful Lane (New Americana 3)

“I stopped by the office to pick up some things,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Garrett was there. He said to tell you he’ll be bringing the car in a little while.”

“Awesome. He’s on his way now. I just got a text from him.” Brianna looked up from her phone. “I mean, I want to be here for Daddy and all that, but it’s pretty boring, just sitting around here and watching him sleep. I’ve texted my friends. We’re getting together for a party tonight.”

A red flag went up in the back of Allison’s mind. But Brianna was an adult, she reminded herself. Grilling her about whom she’d be with and when she’d be home would only trigger a snarky response. “Have a good time,” she said, staying on safe ground. “I’ll call your cell if there’s any change here.”

“Will you be here all night?” Brianna asked.

“I’ll be here for a while. Later on, if your dad’s doing all right, I may go home and get some sleep. You’ll be able to reach me anytime. Do I need to give you my cell number?”

“No, I’ve got it.” Brianna lapsed into silence and went back to checking her phone. Allison took a seat on the chair next to Burke’s bed, her senses taking him in. His breathing was deep and even, his face less pale than she remembered from earlier that afternoon. He hadn’t shaved since the accident. The silver stubble that frosted his cheeks and jaw made him look like a sexy movie star.

A fierce love welled inside her. Her husband was a strong-willed man, a fighter to the end. She would sacrifice anything to fight at his side. But would his cursed pride let her?

Don’t push me away, Burke. I’m your wife. Let me be here for you.

Garrett walked in without knocking. His gaze scanned the room. Was he looking for the catalog? Did he suspect what she’d found between its pages?

Allison put a finger to her lips, a signal for him to keep his voice low. But she kept silent. For now, she’d said all she needed to say.

Brianna put her phone in her purse, rose from the chair, and reached for her jacket. “Thanks for getting here so soon, Garrett,” she said. “Oh—would you grab my suitcase on the way out? It’s behind the door.”

“Got it. Keep me posted, Allison.” He gave her a sharp glance and followed Brianna out the door.

Through the open blinds, the sunset was fading to twilight. Allison took a moment to use the restroom. She stepped out to find that Burke was awake.

Smiling, she walked toward the bed. “Hello, sleepyhead,” she said softly. “I hear you’re going to rehab tomorrow.”

“That’s right. One more step toward getting out of this hellhole.” He raised the upper part of the bed a few inches. “Did Brianna leave?”

“A few minutes ago. Garrett brought the company car for her. She said something about a party with her friends.”

“Well, I can’t fault her for that. She’s young, and her old man isn’t very exciting company these days.” His cobalt eyes narrowed. “I can’t be very exciting company for you, either. You look tired, Allison. You don’t have to stay here and mother me. Go home and get some rest.”

“Maybe later. First I have something to tell you.” She pulled the chair in close to the bed and sat down. “You told me how you’d been working to finish the loan application for the theater. This afternoon I went to your office and found the paperwork in your desk. I smuggled it out to my car. That’s where it is now. I thought that maybe, when you’re feeling stronger, I could help you finish it and take it to the bank.”

Allison waited for him to respond. She’d hoped her husband would be pleased, but his expression revealed nothing. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said.

“I know. But I wanted to help. The loan won’t have a chance if we don’t get the application to the bank before the foreclosure deadline.” She’d already decided against sharing her suspicions about Garrett and the switched keys. She had no proof, and even if she did, sharing it would only cause Burke more distress.

He shook his head, gazing at her with joyless eyes. “This isn’t your fight, Allison. Take the application and put it in my desk. I’ll finish it when I get home.”

She stared at him. “But—”

“No. As I said, this isn’t your fight. I know you mean well, but I can’t let you be part of this mess. If things get ugly—and they might—I can’t have anybody thinking you’re with me on this.”

“And Brianna?”

“She needs to be back in school. I’ll find a way to pay for it—whatever it takes. Meanwhile, you go home and get some sleep. In the morning, call a lawyer. There’s a small firm called Gentry and Smith—not close friends of mine, but good people. You can trust them. I don’t want to see you tomorrow until you’ve got one of them in your corner.”

“Burke, what are you trying to do—to me, to us?”

“I’m trying to save you. And there’s no more us. You’ve got to stop thinking that way. Now go home and rest.” He paused. “Damn it, just go.”

Clasping her purse, Allison stumbled out of the hospital. By now it was almost dark. Her tear-blurred eyes could barely find her car. What was happening to her marriage—and to her husband?

Maybe it was the concussion he’d suffered in the wreck. He’d been all right before the accident—stressed and short-tempered, to be sure. That was nothing new. But the rest—the Mob, Garrett’s betrayal, and some perceived danger to her and Brianna—could it all be in his mind? Maybe she should schedule a private talk with his neurologist.

But what about the key—the key that didn’t fit the lock on his file cabinet? Was her own imagination working overtime? Had some simple mistake kept her from opening the lock, or had Garrett actually switched the keys?