Read Online Wounded Earth by Mary Anna Evans - Free Book Online Page B

off me.”
    “Mr. Sanders always had a stranglehold on the bottom line, but he respected integrity. I explained my position to him before I resigned from your case. He approved.”
    “You speak of him in the past tense.”
    “He died a couple of years ago. Heart attack.”
    Larabeth laid her hand on his for a moment, then drew it away. “J.D., I'm sorry. He was a kind old man, even if he did disapprove of me. But I understand you're still working out of the same office.”
    “He never had any children, so, for lack of a better option, he left the business to me.”
    ”The thought of you having to balance debits and credits warms the cockles of my businesswoman's heart.” Larabeth looked so smug, J.D. wanted to pinch her. “I presume you're doing well?”
    “I've got several employees, even someone to balance my debits and credits for me. How else do you think I can drop everything and come running when you call? Somebody's got to take care of my normal clients. You know—the ones who are spying on their soon-to-be-ex-spouses.”
    “I'm glad you're successful. You deserve it.” She brushed the hair back from her damp forehead and rose from the bench.
    “It's been a long, hot day, and I want to shower and go to bed,” Larabeth said. “But before I do, I want to say one thing. You were right. From the very beginning, you were right. I treasured every photograph, every scrap of news you brought me about Cynthia. I still do. But I was fooling myself when I thought that having those things would make it easier to face her. If my daughter looked me in the eye today and asked me why I gave her away, what would I say? How would you like knowing that you were born because your mother was a brutalized child?”
    Larabeth was doing a good job of controlling the tremor in her voice but, when it came to human frailty, J.D. was practiced at reading between the lines. It was how he made his living.
    She talked fast, as if the words would come easier if they came in a single breath. “I don't know how to be a mother. My own mother died when I was born. I promised you that I would contact Cynthia when she was twenty-one. I said it to make you feel better about spying on her, and I meant it at the time. But I couldn't do it. Even now—now that both her adoptive parents are dead and she might be happy to suddenly acquire another mother—I'm not strong enough to do it. I owe you an apology, J.D. I'm sorry I made you a part of my weakness.”
    She hurried to her room. J.D. sat on the bench and watched her let herself in and close the door behind her. In all the years he'd known her, Larabeth had never once allowed him to see the tiniest crack in the shell of her dignity. J.D. wasn't fooled. He knew that sometimes the most invincible people were more vulnerable than any garden-variety weakling. He ached to protect Larabeth from her demons.
    “Apology accepted,” he said. “And you're wrong, Larabeth. You're the strongest person I know.”

Chapter 6
     
    Babykiller luxuriated under the downy blankets. He was always cold these days, even here in the sunny South. He'd lost some weight he didn't need to lose, but why should he eat when he wasn't hungry? The oncologist called it
cachexia
and said that many cancer patients lost their appetites. The quack urged him to eat anyway.
    Babykiller could see no reason to nourish the rogue cells that had taken over his gut. Let the tumor starve.
    He pictured the tangled network of blood vessels the tumor had built to feed itself. No wonder he was always cold. His blood was being diverted to his belly, so the interloper could have food and oxygen. There was no warmth left over for him.
    Babykiller tucked the covers under his chin and decided to think about something else. His plans were going well. They distracted him from the pain. They gave him a reason to get out of bed in the mornings. He would be gone soon enough, but first he would make his mark. The world would know that he existed, and