The Heart Behind the Mask

By Nancy S. Edwards

Greyson Hart has been framed for the murder of her second husband by her ex-husband, Clayton. Greyson knows that she is next unless she takes control of the situation. Not planning on allowing her self to be the next victim of Clayton's evil, Greyson fakes her own violent death then goes into hiding.

Alone and badly injured from the faked car accident, Greyson hides out in an abandoned warehouse and then along the treacherous banks of the Cape Fear River. Eventually, with the help of two trusted friends, she escapes to the North Carolina Mountains where she lives as a near hermit for several years.

During her years in the mountains, Greyson faces many battles as she struggles to make a new life for her self on the isolated mountain top. But Greyson has to endure many hardships. Not only does she have to battle the normal hardships of everyday mountain life but those hardships are compounded by the adversity of isolation, constant loneliness, and unusually harsh weather. Her days are hard enough but Greyson's nights are even longer as she battles the emotional demons that have also long plagued her. Over time, she begins to come to terms with these demons but still longs to be free and to finally find someone with which she can make a life.

Just when Greyson thinks she has battled every kind of hardship that life can throw her way, Detective O'Connor finds out where she is hiding and comes to find her. But unknown to Greyson he is coming not to arrest her but rather to win her heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Sep 27, 2007
• ISBN: 9781426940705

Nancy S. Edwards

I am a new author but have been writing for my family and friends all of my life. I live in the country outside of Fayetteville, North Carolina in the United States. I am married to the love of my life and have three grown children; one set of twins and a single. I have just recently retired after 34 years in the public school system where I have been a teacher and an administrator. I am now a university instructor. I am a voracious reader and enjoy all kinds of puzzles, crossword, jigsaw, logic - you name it! I have a pilot's license and absolutely love the mountains of North Carolina.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 1

The Get Away

Though a host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear,

Bible King James Version

Psalms 27:3

Right from the beginning she had known that this was not going to be easy. Judging from the sound of the quickly approaching police sirens, Greyson knew that not only was it going to be difficult but that the amount of time she had to carry out her plan was growing very short. Terror grew inside her as she looked down at Daniel’s lifeless body and realized she would be the next victim of Clayton’s horror if she did not figure out how to make Daniel’s plan work – and moreover, to make it work without Daniel.

Denied the extravagance of time for a widow to grieve for her dead husband, Greyson Hart Slater had to force herself to move her focus away from Daniel and onto how she was going to avoid the police. She had to figure out how she alone was going to execute a plan that should take two people to pull off.

Mi salida... My way out, Greyson had thought when Daniel had first told her of his idea to free them from Clayton’s tyranny. Armed with his many talents and resources, Daniel Slater had pulled from his years in military intelligence to devise several intricate, well thought out versions of a plan for their escape. All versions were equally meticulous in their every detail for Daniel had researched every aspect of the plans, devising and revising, until he deemed each component to be perfect.

Daniel had known what he was doing. While he was in the military, he had taught classes on how to evade capture. Afterwards, he had turned his expertise into a second career working in Wilmington’s movie industry. He had lent his expertise to many a movie by designing elaborate disguises and teaching others to execute complicated stunts. He had packaged all that knowledge into an escape plan and then made Greyson his primary student. He had schooled her in every facet of his plan, telling her that when the time came, there would be no time for him to explain how or why and certainly no time for questions and answers. There would be no time to think much less time to work out a plan.

A klutz at heart, Greyson had needed Daniel’s guidance and training. She had been skeptical, almost cynical of the entire idea at first. Daniel, however, had encouraged her and coached her, developing her skills and more importantly her confidence. Yet, she had naively presumed that Daniel would always be with her, in charge and leading their retreat.

Daniel, dear sweet Daniel, Greyson cried out as she thought of how devoted he had been to her. More than just being her husband, he had been her best friend. She fought to overcome another tormenting wave of nausea as the vision of his now lifeless body flashed before her.

It had all begun with a simple telephone message, a message from Daniel that asked her to come to the beach house that evening rather than to their home near Fayetteville. She had not found the request at all unusual since it had happened many times before. Daniel was several years her senior and had already retired twice, once from the military and most recently from his movie work. While she continued to work as a teacher, he had spent his idle time fishing, boating, gardening, and sometimes drinking.

Thankfully, though, he spent most of his time fishing or caring for one of their houses. This was a second marriage for both of them, and they were blessed with houses. There was Greyson’s home between Fayetteville and Elizabethtown, his house near Fayetteville, their cottage at Carolina Beach, and the houseboat that they kept moored on the Inland Waterway. With a variety of residences to choose from and with Daniel’s independence, spontaneity was a given part of their relationship. A message from Daniel on any given day was likely to send her homeward in a totally different direction from the one in which she had come that morning.

Today’s message seemed no different from the scores of others she had received over the last year. Come to the beach house. There’s a surprise for you! was all the message had said. That kind of message usually meant an exciting escapade was in store. Daniel was great at planning adventures for them. But, little did she know just how maniacal this evening’s events would turn out to be. Little did she know that it would set in motion a sequence of events, so traumatic, that her life would be irreversibly changed forever.

Her drive down to Wilmington and on to Carolina Beach this afternoon had been filled with much anticipation of just what kind of escapade Daniel had in mind for them tonight. She remembered fondly their first date or rendezvous, as he had called it. Always the flamboyant one, he had invited her to his house near Fayetteville for what he described as a great excursion.

Upon arriving at his house she’d found him dressed in old shorts and a tee shirt loading what had appeared to be picnic baskets onto the back of matching ATVs. With only a quick introductory lesson on how to drive a four-wheeler, Daniel had invited her to follow him on the ATV and they had begun the journey of their lives – just by riding through the woods and down to the Cape Fear River.

Unsure just what the distinguished white-haired gentleman had in mind, Greyson was astonished when they came upon a dock with a seaplane tethered to it. She erupted with questions to which Daniel would only answer with You’ll see. Shortly afterwards, Greyson had found herself in flight, getting her first lesson in flying and suddenly, if only for a few seconds, having control of the plane. Her squeals of delight, Daniel had said, were like those of a child on Christmas morning. She had only just been able to catch her breath and to calm her pounding heart when Daniel had brought the plane down on the water near the marina at Wrightsville Beach. Greyson’s wonderment quickly turned into total bewilderment when Daniel taxied the plane up to the side of a luxurious houseboat. Dinner, dancing on the top deck and a moonlight ride around the harbor in a smaller speedboat topped off their mesmerizing evening and set the stage for their eventual marriage.

Confusion snapped Greyson out of her pleasant memory as she turned into the driveway of their beach house. The front door, which they rarely used, stood slightly ajar and beer cans lay strewn about the yard. That’s not like Daniel. He is such a stickler for details. He would not leave a door open like that and would never allow trash to lay out in the yard – not if he were in his right mind anyway. Just in case he wasn’t, she took a deep breath to steady herself, put on her mask of resilience, and moved to confront whatever lay ahead of her.

Greyson jerked her briefcase and school bags from the car and bent down to collect the additional cans from the area around the back door. She realized that she was somewhat annoyed wondering if Daniel, a recovering alcoholic, had chosen today to end his many months of sobriety.

Greyson again wondered about the front door being open when she had to use her key to unlock the back door. Daniel usually met her at the door or had it open for her when she came home. For a few brief seconds as she opened the door, Greyson was prepared to find Daniel sitting at the table in a drunken stupor. She was instead paralyzed by what she saw. Kitchen chairs lay overturned on the floor. Cabinet doors stood open, their broken contents strewn across the countertops and the floor. And Daniel, his head lying in a pool of his own blood, sat slumped over the table.

Greyson dropped her bags and ran to Daniel, being careful not to move his head. She grabbed the dishcloth from the sink and pressed it against his head, hoping to stem the bleeding from his forehead. Amid her screams and sobs, Greyson surveyed the massive amounts of blood pooled on the table and on the floor. She could tell from the amount of blood that Daniel was very near death. Lovingly, she cupped his head in her hands and lowered her face near his. It was then that she saw that Daniel was just barely conscious and was trying to tell her something. One word was all that he could manage. That one word however, was enough.

Greyson jerked back from Daniel in panic as she heard the word Horton. It was a code word that would only have meaning to her and to Daniel. They had worked it out several months before as a signal to each other. If he was using that word, it could only mean that immense danger was close at hand and that it was time for them to flee. But how would she be able to get them away from the danger with Daniel so seriously injured?

Fear immobilized her as she tried to figure out how she could possibly help Daniel and also rescue them both from whatever evil Clayton had planned this time. She begged Daniel to get up, to talk to her, and to say that he was OK. Yet, looking down at Daniel’s now breathless body, she withdrew into a fog of misery as she realized that Daniel would never get up again.

From somewhere far outside her misery, Greyson thought she heard the sound of bells. Over and over again, the sound repeated itself until she finally focused her thoughts enough to realize that it was the ringing of the telephone. Jolting from her stupor, she ran eagerly to the phone, naively thinking that the caller would be able to summon help for Daniel.

Please help me, she begged. My husband has been badly injured. Call an ambulance right away, Greyson’s soft pained voice pleaded for help.

But Greyson found that the caller was not the Good Samaritan that she had hoped it to be. Instead, the caller already knew of Daniel’s plight and warned Greyson of her own. The caller was in fact Clayton Rendell, Greyson’s former husband, and now Daniel’s killer!

You can be sure that I have already made a call Mrs. Slater, or will that be Miss Hart again now that this husband is dead? replied Clayton. Your Mr. Slater did not die easily he bragged to Greyson, and it’s your fault. You had a chance to give back my ledger but you didn’t. This is your mess – your consequence – a plain and simple murder Greyson, and the police will think you are the one who did it. Oh, by the way, I’ve already called the police, but you can be sure it was not to help you. It was so I could report my concern about an argument between you and your Mr. Slater and you can also be sure that I told them I had witnessed your brutal attack on him.

Stunned by Clayton’s words, she could only listen as he elaborated on his call to the police. Of course, I did not identify myself – disguised my voice, you know. I just told them that I was a concerned citizen and wanted to report a crime. Said I was so worried about Daniel, he said sarcastically in the vindictive tone of voice that Greyson knew so well, that I just had to call the police and let them know what was going on. What’re you going to do now Greyson? The police are on the way! he taunted.

Clayton’s tone changed quickly from disdain to infuriation as he yelled emphatically, You caused this, and you killed Daniel Slater just as surely as if you had delivered the fatal blow yourself! I want that book now and I want you to bring it to me in person. That’s the only way that you can save yourself from a fate every bit as bad as the one Daniel met.

But Greyson knew that her fate had already been sealed. It had been sealed the moment she had taken the ledger from the house where she and Clayton had lived during their marriage. Now that his organization had found out about the ledger he desperately wanted it back. Its contents recorded his illegal activities with several prominent people at the local, state, and the national levels of government. She had taken it when she left Clayton several years ago, then hid it away as a kind of insurance policy, to prevent him from going too far and killing her during one of his angry tirades. She knew that he would not harm her until he regained possession of it or at least found out where it was hidden. She had taken it as insurance against Clayton but never dreamed that taking it would end up costing her so much.

The ledger had cost her the lives of her sons and now that of Daniel but turning it over to Clayton or anyone from his organization would certainly mean her own death as well. Once it was in Clayton’s hands he would no longer have any reason to allow her to stay alive and she would be his next victim. Either way, giving up the ledger to Clayton or taking her chances of being charged with murder, Greyson saw no chance for freedom here.

Reality weighted heavily on her as she looked back again at Daniel’s limp body lying prostrate against the table. For a moment, she imagined that she saw him breathing, thinking that he would jump up, laughing at the latest practical joke that he had played on her. But as she looked at him again, prudence won out and she knew that he would never get up again.

Her mind raced trying to make sense of all that was going on. She was distraught but not so hysterical that Clayton’s warning could not stab its way into her pain. She certainly understood his meaning as well as the gravity of the threats. Years of experience with Clayton had shown her that he was capable of everything that he had threatened.

She knew that with Clayton’s connections, she was going to be blamed for Daniel’s death no matter what she did or said. And most of all, she knew that Daniel would not want her to fall prey to Clayton after all that they had done together to prepare for such a situation. Her only hope was to try to escape and disappear forever.

Not waiting around for things to be decided for her, Greyson resolved to take control of the situation. She would do what little she could for Daniel, and then begin to put their escape plan in motion. She ran to the closet to get a blanket. After using the side of her arm to brush away the beer cans scattered about the table, she placed the blanket around his shoulders then tucked a clean kitchen towel tenderly under his head. Lovingly, she kissed her dear companion and friend on the forehead and allowed herself just an instant to whisper a final, unanswerable goodbye before running again to the closet.

This time, from far back in the closet, Greyson drug out two canvas duffel bags that Daniel had placed there. In content, they matched two other bags that were hidden in each of their homes. Hoisting both of the heavy bags onto her shoulders, Greyson ran for the door stopping only to look back, one last time, at Daniel and to retrieve her car keys and purse from the kitchen floor.

Dashing to her car, Greyson stopped before getting in. The police, she thought, will probably be able to find out easily what kind of car I am driving." As an after thought, she bolted back into the house and snatched another set of keys from the rack by the back door. This time she dashed out to the old pickup truck that Daniel kept for yard work. After struggling to push the heavy bags into the front seat, she jumped in beside them and turned the key to the ignition.

With the sound of sirens approaching from a distance, Greyson was grateful that the cantankerous old truck’s motor chose to turn over today; without the explicit verbal encouragement Daniel usually had to provide to get it started. After struggling to get the vehicle into gear she opted not to leave by the street but rather to take an old hunting trail that ran through the woods. The abandoned trail was obscured by an overgrown hedgerow and nearly overrun with weeds and brush. Hopefully it would be a while before anyone figured out how she had gotten away.

Only a few minutes of bumpy travel through the woods brought her close to an access to Highway 17, somewhere near Wilmington. To this point, Greyson had forced herself to function on sheer adrenaline. Now, she could not go any further until she gave herself time to gain control of the flood of tears streaming down her face. Stopping just out of sight of the highway, Greyson completely broke down. Precious minutes passed while she gripped the steering wheel for support as her body shook violently and she sobbed in desperation. Her heart ached for Daniel and it needed time to mourn his death, but her head told her that bereavement was not something she had time for right now.

Gradually, as she tried to make some sense of her situation, she came to realize that she had become a widow and a police fugitive all in the same moment. She also realized that not only was she single again but that for the first time in her life, she was completely alone. She had run out of people she could depend on and was therefore, utterly by herself. Greyson acknowledged that she had to be the one to get her self out of this situation. Putting her grief and self-pity aside for the present, Greyson turned her thoughts to weighing the options for survival. Reluctantly, she accepted that the bridge version of Daniel’s escape plan was the best way for her to evade the police, especially if she also wanted to make Clayton think she was dead.

Greyson trembled at the thought of what she would have to do. Tackling the mighty bridge was by far the most dangerous one of Daniel’s plans, yet it was the one most likely to throw Clayton off her trail, at least long enough for her to get out of the city. After making up her mind about what she would do, Greyson pulled herself up into a sitting position, used the backs of her hands to wipe her tear soaked face and took several deep breaths. The cool evening air cleared her head just enough that she could review the plan with some degree of logic. Common sense and the laws of physics told her it was more probable this plan would fail than succeed even if she performed each and every step perfectly.

Is it even possible for me to carry it out alone? It’s a harebrained idea at best, she cried out, actually designed for two people, not one!

I can’t do this! she sobbed as self-doubt and indecision flooded into her thoughts. She questioned whether or not she had the strength and certainly if she had the nerve to attempt it alone.

All the while, she could hear Daniel’s dear sweet voice in her head, You are stronger than you think, my dear! He had said it to her so many times when her resolve had begun to ebb. To build her confidence, he had made her repeat it over and over and over again each time that they had practiced the particulars of their plans. He had made her repeat it so many times, in fact, that the phrase finally began to imprint onto her brain. Just hearing his voice in her head now helped her to slowly but decisively gather the strength and determination she needed to modify Daniel’s plan – just enough so that for all intents and purposes, she would end her life as she knew it. Everyone, she hoped, would assume she was so distraught after Daniel’s murder that she had taken her own life.

She did not know how long she had been sitting along the old road but the reflection of car headlights into her rear view mirror helped Greyson decide that any plan was worth a try and that now was the time for her to make her move.

Heavy raindrops began to plop down against the truck’s roof just as she pulled the old truck out onto the highway. While the pickup lumbered down the road, Greyson checked her watch. She needed to know how much time she had before the drawbridge would be raised for the nightly movement of ships and barges along the waterway. One and a half hours should be just enough time, she thought and prayed.

Concentrating on the task at hand, Greyson turned in the direction of the multi-story-parking garage in the middle of town. It would be the first stop along her evening’s route. Between here and the garage, she thought, my success will depend on staying well hidden so I am not caught or even recognized. After the garage, I’ll want everyone to both recognize me and follow me!

She thought of all Daniel’s preparation towards this day. He had taught her that disguise and deception would be the keys to their success. He had coached her in how to use simple disguises to give people the wrong perception when she needed to. Hopefully, the items in the canvas bags would provide her with the means to deceive anyone who might be looking for her tonight.

While keeping one eye glued to the rain slicked road and one hand glued tight to the steering wheel, Greyson reached out her other hand to tug at the zippers of the old canvas bags. Rummaging through their contents, she pulled out item after item that she needed to disguise herself and make ready for what she was about to do.

Step one to her deception was to remove the long blonde wig that she had been wearing for the last year. From underneath the wig, she revealed her own natural short-cropped salt and pepper hair. Shaky fingers ran through it to give it some semblance of being combed.

Pulling a tent dress out of the duffel bag she slowed the truck to a crawl and steadied the steering wheel with her knees. She tried to drag the dress over her head but found that she would have to stop the truck in order to accomplish the task. Just as she pulled off the street and behind an abandoned gas station a police car raced by. Its sirens blasted through the night air, unnerving her and making her very glad that she had not been able to get the dress on while driving.

Greyson used the pause to complete her disguise. She finished pulling on the dress and added a matching jacket that had already been outfitted with accessories and a fake nametag. Struggling to pull them on, she wished that she had taken time back in the woods to pull off her original dress. But anyone who saw her now would see her as a dowdy middle aged lady – filled out in a lot more than just the right places.

To further her transformation, she grabbed a briefcase from one of the bags and laid it open on the seat. Inside was a series of legal looking papers she had copied from a book at the library and a wallet with a fake driver’s license to match the nametag on her jacket. Placing a bottle of water in the cup holder and a half-eaten granola bar on the seat was all she needed to do, she hoped, to give the pretense of a woman on her way home from a long day’s work – just in case she was stopped on the way to the parking garage.

The storm had gotten much worse and the rain now poured down all around her. She wanted desperately to think about Daniel and all the loved ones that Clayton had taken from her but the fierce lightening crashing all around her served to keep her concentrated on the business at hand.

The storm intensified with every strike of the incredibly harsh lightening. Its deafening thunder combined with the ghostly amber glow of the street lamps, engulfed her whole being with an eerie sense of urgency. All the while, she could hear sirens coming ever closer and knew that the streets must be full of policemen looking for a fugitive murderess. Greyson called upon all the self-control she could muster as she pulled the truck back onto the street. It took all of that emotional reserve to steady her shaking hands and keep the truck within a speed limit appropriate for the rapidly deteriorating road conditions.

Searing hot lightning struck a metal sign post just as Greyson drove by. The entire sign explored with a burst of bright blue sparks that reflected on the rain-slicked highway. As bright as the lightning strike was however, it was not as sharp as the gruesome vision that constantly flashed into her mind – the vision of walking into her house to find Daniel close to death.

Thinking about Daniel and trying to avoid a traffic stop on Canal Street caused her to miss her intended turn-off for the waterfront parking garage. But after a detour down several one way streets and a turn around in the parking lot of a fast food restaurant, Greyson finally found her way to the riverside. From there, it was only a few blocks to the entrance of the parking garage and put her within sight of the mammoth drawbridge on the Cape Fear River.

But just one short block from the garage entrance, Greyson ran head on into another traffic check. Terrified, Greyson almost pulled down a side street to avoid going through the stop but did not want to be detained and certainly not arrested for such a stupid mistake. As calmly as a prey could be when confronted with its predator, Greyson pulled the truck to a stop beside the policeman and rolled down her window. Thanks to Daniel’s pre-planning, she passed the officer’s review without question and he waved her on through. It was then that Greyson offered the first of many prayers of thanks for Daniel’s fore-thought and careful planning.

Finally arriving at the entrance to the garage, she prayed that the parking attendant would neither notice her nervousness nor later remember the vehicle that she was driving. Thankfully, her prayer was answered as the attendant barely looked up when instead of moving quietly up the ramp, she mistakenly revved the engine and squalled the tires to coax the old truck to the next level. One ascending turn after another up the garage ramp gave Greyson a clear view of the first, second, and third levels of the garage. All its spaces were filled with the cars of owners who were probably unwilling to go out on a night such as tonight. She was pleased that so many cars were in the garage. This would both help to conceal the truck that she was going to abandon there and also help to keep traffic off the streets as she made her assault on the bridge.

On the fourth level, Greyson was relieved to see the replacement car that Daniel had parked there. It was an older model; a flashy bright red Lamborghini. Daniel had chosen the old car because of its conspicuous doors that opened upward but most especially because of its speed.

Greyson parked the pickup on the far side of the deck, as far away from the sports car as possible. After looking around to make sure that no one was watching, she tried to remove all traces of her identity from the pickup. Using the canvas sack as a trash bag, she stuffed it with the clothing and the junk that Daniel had stuffed under the seat. From the glove compartment, she remembered to remove the truck’s registration and any other papers contained there.

Then grappling to remove the heavy bags from the truck, Greyson thought of one last thing that she needed to do. She went to the rear of the truck and quickly removed its license plate. Once she was sure that she had removed all the major identifiers that she could, she ran to the opposite side of the garage and to the vehicle she would use to end her life as Greyson Hart Slater.

Winded from the exertion of running across the parking deck while dragging two heavy bags, she strained to pull off the awkward canvas cover that she and Daniel had draped over it. He had taped the keys for the magnificent vehicle on its underside, near the driver’s side door. To get to the keys, she had to lie on her back on the cold damp concrete floor, and then wiggle herself up under the car. She worked quickly; it was crucial that she not be spotted by anyone, especially as she crawled out from under a car. Promptly unlocking the door, she jumped in and slammed the door behind her. She gasped in amazement as she realized that she had gotten this far without being caught and that it was now time to start the next part of her mission.

Checking her watch, she calculated that she would need to hide out for just a while longer before leaving the parking garage. It was imperative from here on out that her timing be exact with split-second accuracy. To keep her mind from reverting to feelings of grief and regret, she used the extra time to check the items in the new set of duffel bags that she and Daniel had stored in the Lamborghini. She pulled a metal briefcase from the opening behind the seat. Inside were items that would help to identify her when the police found them. She carefully arranged the contents so there would be no question of its owner, then closed and strategically placed it on the seat beside her, hoping that it would not be completely destroyed in the explosion to come.

Relieved that she had not been stopped along the way to the garage, she again changed clothes, this time for her final task. She removed the tight bundle of clothes she