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“Your husband?” Key smiled slyly. “Ah, how soon they forget.”
“No, Mr. Tackett, my daughter.” She turned away only long enough to lift a picture frame from her desk. Holding it at arm’s length, she thrust it at him so that he was nose to nose with the face in the photograph.
“Meet Ashley. My baby. My beautiful baby girl. She was also killed in Montesangre. Or, as you so eloquently put it, she died a martyr’s death in service to her country.” Tears filled Lara’s eyes, blurring her image of Key. Then her arms sprang back with the impetus of pistons, and she clutched the picture frame to her chest.
Key muttered an expletive. After a long moment he said, “I’m sorry about your kid. I was in France at the time and read about it in an English newspaper. I also remember reading that Clark attended the memorial service for Porter and your daughter.”
“Yes, Clark attended, but I wasn’t there. I was still in the hospital in Miami, recovering from my injuries.” Wearily she brushed back a loose strand of hair and returned the frame to her desk. “Your brother made no effort to contact me, and I was relieved. For his part in banishing us to Montesangre, I think I could have killed him if I’d seen him then.”
“You didn’t resent him to the point of rejecting his bequeathal.”
“No, I didn’t. Because of my notoriety, I was turned down for job after job. In all the years since my recovery, I wasn’t able to hold a position for very long—only until the hospital bigwigs linked Dr. Lara Mallory to Lara Porter. It didn’t matter how capably I fulfilled my duties, I was invited to leave.
“Clark must have known that and obviously felt that he owed me something for all that I’d lost. He tried to secure my professional future. Otherwise, why would he buy this facility for me, completely furnished, ready to occupy if I chose to?”
Speculatively she tilted her head to one side. “It’s curious that he drowned only days after adding that codicil to his will.”
His reaction was fiercely defensive. She could see that even before he spoke. “What the hell are you suggesting with that remark?”
“Surely the rumors regarding Clark’s drowning death reached you. There’s speculation that it wasn’t an accident at all, but a suicide.”
“You’re full of shit,” he said, his lip curling. “And so is anybody who gave that rumor a second’s thought. Clark took the boat into the lake to fish. Knowing him, he was too damned hardheaded to keep his life vest on. I wouldn’t have been wearing one of the damned things either.”
“Clark was a strong swimmer. He could have saved himself.”
“Ordinarily,” he said curtly. “Something must have happened.”
“Like what? There was no storm that day, no evidence of trouble with the outboard motor. The boat didn’t capsize. What do you think happened?”
He worked his inner cheek between his teeth but didn’t come up with an answer. “All I know is that my brother wouldn’t have taken his own life. And whatever reasons he had for giving you this place, he took to the grave.”
“His reasons don’t really matter, do they? I’m here.”
“Which brings me back to my original question. Why would you want to come here? Clark was Eden Pass’s favorite son. You’re considered nothing but a whore who destroyed his political future. My mother will see to it that no one forgets that.”
Considering the angry mood of the moment, this wasn’t the time to divulge her real reason for coming to Eden Pass. That could wait until their mutual hostility eased—if that was possible. It was safer now to address his last statement.
“I’m sure she’ll try.”
“Is this place,” he said, indicating the office with a sweep of his hand, “worth the grief? And believe me, Jody can dish it out.”
“I want to practice medicine, Mr. Tackett. I’m a good doctor. All I ask is to be allowed to run my medical practice without interference.”
“Well, it isn’t going to be easy,” he said slowly. “In fact, I think your life here in Eden Pass will make Hell pale by comparison.”
“Should I take that as a threat?”
“Just stating the facts, Doc. Nobody in Eden Pass will dare offend Jody by becoming your patient. You can count on that. Too many families depend on Tackett Oil for their livelihoods. They’ll drive forty miles for an aspirin before they’ll darken your door.”
He grinned. “It’s going to be amusing to sit back and watch how long it takes you to fold up and go back where you came from. Before it’s all over, there’ll be fireworks. Guess you should be thanked for relieving the boredom around here.” He slipped his crutches under his arms and limped toward the door.
Turning back, he gave her a slow, insulting once-over. “Clark was a damn fool to throw everything away for a woman. All I can figure is that you must be really hot in the sack. But is a roll with you worth losing all he lost? I seriously doubt it.” His eyes moved down her body. “You’re not even that good-looking.”
He left the door open behind him, a clear indication of his contempt. Lara waited until she heard him leave through the front door, then sat down behind her desk. Her knees felt rubbery. Placing her elbows on the top of her desk, she rested her forehead on the heels of her hands. They were cold and clammy, yet her face and chest were emanatin
g fiery heat.
Lowering her hands, she gazed at Ashley’s photograph. Smiling sadly, she reached out to stroke her daughter’s chubby cheek, but touched only cool, unyielding glass. From that drooling smile, those laughing eyes, Lara fed her resolve. Until she had from them what she wanted, she could and would withstand any hardship the Tacketts might impose.
