After the Night (26 page)

But female friendship had remained a special joy to her, and she looked at Halley Johnson with the hope of finding that trembling within her.

"Where did you move to, when you left?" Halley asked, with a casual note that glossed over the circumstances under which Faith had left Prescott.

"Beaumont, Texas. Then I moved to Austin when I started college, and Dallas afterward."

Halley sighed. "I’ve never lived anywhere but here, don’t guess I ever will. I used to think about traveling, but then Joel and I got married, and the kids came. We have two," she said, brightening. "A boy and a girl. With one of each, it seemed like a good time to stop. How about you?"

"I’m a widow," Faith said, her eyes darkening with the shadow of sadness that she always felt when she thought about Kyle, dying so young and so needlessly. "I married
right out of college, and he died in a car wreck within the year. No kids."

"That’s rough." There was genuine sympathy in Halley’s voice. "I’m so sorry. I can only imagine what it would be like to lose Joel. He drives me crazy sometimes, but he’s my rock, always there when I need him." She was silent a moment, then the smile came back to her face. "What brings you back to Prescott? I can imagine someone leaving Prescott to move to Dallas, but not vice versa."

"It’s home. I wanted to come back."

"Well, I don’t want to be nosy or rude, but I would have thought Prescott would be the last place you’d want to live. After what happened, I mean."

Faith gave her a quick look, but couldn’t see any malice in Halley’s expression, only a certain watchfulness, as if she hadn’t quite made up her mind about Faith.

"It hasn’t been a bowl of cherries," she replied, and decided she could be as frank as the other woman. "I don’t know if you’ve heard or not, but Gray Rouillard won’t like it if he finds out you’ve served me. I gather he’s put out the word to all the merchants that he doesn’t want them doing business with me."

"Oh, I’ve heard," Halley said, and grinned, some of the watchfulness fading. "But I like to make up my own mind about people."

"I don’t want to cause trouble for you."

"You won’t. Gray isn’t vindictive." She paused. "I can see where you might not agree with me. Granted, I wouldn’t want him for an enemy, but he won’t turn mean just because you ate some chicken salad in here."

"Everyone else in town seems to take him seriously."

"He has a lot of influence," Halley agreed.

"But not with you?"

"I didn’t say that. It’s just that I remember you from school. You weren’t like the others. If it had been Jodie, now – she wouldn’t be sitting here waiting for her chicken salad. You’re welcome any time, though."

"Thanks, but let me know if there’s a problem."

"I’m not worried about it." Halley smiled as the waitress set the plate of chicken salad on the table. "If he’d meant to
be a hard-ass about it, he’d have said so. One thing about Gray, you don’t have to second-guess him. He says what he means, and means what he says."

Alex Chelette’s secretary was still Andrea Wallice, according to the nameplate on her desk. The woman sitting behind the desk was comfortably fiftyish, her face wearing every one of the years, her gray hair styled in a short, neat bob. Looking at her, trying to subtract a dozen years, Faith still couldn’t imagine her as the type of woman Guy Rouillard would pursue. His taste had run toward the flamboyant, not this tidy woman with the openly curious gaze.

"You look like your mother," Andrea finally said, her head tilting a bit to one side as she studied Faith’s face. "A few differences, but for the most part you could be her, especially in your coloring."

"Did you know her?" Faith asked.

"Only by sight." She gestured to the sofa. "Have a seat. Alex hasn’t come back from lunch yet."

Just as Faith sat down, the door opened and a slim, good-looking man entered. He was wearing a suit, an oddity in Prescott, unless one happened to be an attorney who had been at the courthouse all morning. He glanced toward Faith and visibly started, then relaxed, and a smile touched his mouth. "You must be Faith. God knows, you couldn’t be anyone else, unless Renee discovered the Fountain of Youth."

"That’s what I thought," Andrea said, turning to him, and for a moment the expression in her eyes was unguarded. Faith quickly looked down. From what she had just seen, she very much doubted that Andrea had ever been involved with Guy, because she was very much in love with her boss. She wondered if Mr. Chelette knew, and just as quickly decided that he didn’t. There was no hint of awareness on his part.

"Come in," he invited, ushering Faith into his office ahead of him, and closing the door. "I know we must seem rude, discussing you that way. I’m sorry. It’s just that the resemblance is so pronounced, and yet, on second glance, the differences are obvious."

"Everyone seems to have that reaction when they see me for the first time," she admitted, and smiled at him. It was very easy to smile at Alex Chelette. He was the type of man whom age refined; always slim, he would pare down even more with the passing years. His dark hair had grayed at the sides, and there were lines at the corners of his gray eyes, but he easily looked to be in his mid-forties, rather than his fifties. His scent was light green, as fresh as newly cut grass.

"Sit down, please," he said, and settled into his own chair. "What can I do for you today?"

Faith seated herself on the leather sofa. "Actually, I came on personal reasons, and I realize now I shouldn’t have taken up your work time – "

He shook his head, smiling. "It’s my pleasure. Now, tell me what’s bothering you. Is it Gray? I tried to get him to leave you alone, but he’s very protective of his mother and sister, and he doesn’t want them upset."

"I understand Gray’s position very well," Faith said dryly. "That isn’t why I’m here."

"Oh?"

"I wanted to ask you some questions about Guy Rouillard. You were his best friend, weren’t you?"

He gave her a faint smile. "I thought so. We grew up together."

Should she tell him that Guy hadn’t, after all, left with Renee? She toyed with the idea, then discarded it. As friendly as he seemed, she couldn’t forget that he was an old family friend of the Rouillards. She had to assume that anything she told him would go straight to Gray.

"I’m curious about him," she finally said. "That night wrecked my family, just as it did Gray’s. What was he like? I know he wasn’t faithful to my mother any more than he was to his wife, so why would he all of a sudden walk away from everything, his family, his business, to be with her?"

"I don’t think you really want me to answer that," he replied wryly. "To put it as politely as I can, Renee was a fascinating woman, at least to men. Physically she was… well, Guy was very responsive to Renee’s sensuality."

"But he was already having an affair with her. There wasn’t any reason for them to leave."

Alex shrugged, a very Gallic gesture. "I’ve never understood it myself."

"Why didn’t he just get a divorce?"

"Again, I don’t have an answer for that. Perhaps because of his religion; Guy wasn’t a regular at mass, but he felt more strongly about religion than you might have expected. Perhaps he thought it would be easier on Noelle if he didn’t divorce her, if he just handed everything over to Gray and left. I simply don’t know."

"Hand everything over to Gray?" Faith repeated. "What do you mean?"

"I’m sorry," he said gently. "I can’t divulge details of my clients’ business dealings."

"No, of course not." Quickly she backtracked. "Do you remember anything else about that summer? Who else Guy was seeing?"

He looked startled. "Why would you want to know?"

"Like I said, I have an interest in the man. Because of him, I haven’t seen my mother since that day. Was he likeable? Did he have any honor, or was he just a tomcat?"

He stared at her for a moment, and pain crept into his eyes. "Guy was the most likeable man in the world," he finally said. "I loved him like a brother. He was always laughing, teasing, but if I needed him for anything, he was there like a shot. His marriage to Noelle was a disappointment to him, but still I was surprised when he left, because he was so close to Gray and Monica. He was a terrible husband, but a wonderful father." He looked down at his hands. "It’s been twelve years," he said softly. "And I still miss him."

"Did he ever call?" she asked. "Or get in touch with his family in any way?"

He shook his head. "Not to my knowledge."

"Who else was he seeing that summer, besides Yolanda Foster?"

Once again, her question startled him. His eyebrows rose, and rebuke was in his voice when he spoke. "None of that matters. As I keep telling Gray, it’s in the past; let it go. There was a lot of pain that summer, and keeping it alive doesn’t do anyone any good."

"I can’t let it go, when no one else in the parish will. No matter how successful I am, or respectable, some people here still think of me as trash." Her voice trembled a little on the last word. She hadn’t meant to let her control waver, and she was both embarrassed and irritated that it had. Sometimes, though, the pain leaked through.

Alex must have heard it, because his expression changed, and suddenly he left his chair to come sit beside her and take one of her hands in both of his. "I know it’s been difficult for you," he said gently. "They’ll change their minds, when they get to know you better. And Gray will eventually relent. As I said, he reacted the way he did because he’s so protective of his family, but basically he’s a very fair man."

"And ruthless," Faith added.

A rueful smile touched his face. "That, too. But not unkind. Take my word for it. If there’s anything I can do to change his mind, I promise you I’ll do it."

"Thank you," Faith said. That wasn’t why she’d come to see him, but he was too conscientious to divulge personal details about his clients and friends. The visit wasn’t a total waste, however, she felt she could safely mark Andrea Wallice off her list.

She took her leave, and drove home pondering the scraps of information she’d gotten that day. If Guy had been murdered, Lowell or Yolanda Foster seemed to be the most likely suspects. She wondered how she could contrive a meeting with either of them. And she wondered where Mr. Pleasant was, and if he was all right.

"I met Faith today," Alex said that night as he and Gray were-going over some papers. He picked up his brandy and keenly eyed the younger man over the rim of the glass. "The resemblance is eerie, at first glance, but by the second look there’s no way of mistaking her for Renee. Odd, isn’t it, the way Renee was more beautiful, but Faith is more attractive?"

Gray glanced up, wry awareness in his dark eyes as he caught the expression in Alex’s gray ones. "Yes, I’ve noticed how attractive she is, if that’s what you’re asking. Where did you meet her?" He picked up his own glass, filled with his
favorite Scotch, and savored the smoky bite of it on his tongue.

"At my office. She came to ask me about Guy."

Gray almost choked. He set his glass down with a force that made the whisky slosh dangerously close to the rim. "She
what?
What in hell did she want to know about Dad?" The thought of Faith asking anything about his father made him bitterly angry. It was a knee-jerk reaction; for a moment she wasn’t
Faith,
the person, but a
Devlin,
with all the connotations elicited by the name. He himself wanted her with a fierce need that both alarmed and disgusted him, even though he knew he was going to ease that need if possible, but he didn’t want anything about her touching his family. He didn’t want Monica or Noelle exposed to her, and he sure as hell didn’t want her asking about his father. Guy was gone. His absence, his betrayal, was a wound that remained perilously close to the surface, and bled at the slightest scratch.

"She wanted to know what he was like, had he ever gotten in touch, if he’d been seeing anyone else that summer."

Furious, Gray half rose from his chair, intending to go to her house right now and have it out with her. Alex stopped him with a hand on his arm. "She has a right to know," he said mildly. "Or at least to be curious."

"I’ll be goddamned if she does!" Gray snapped.

"She hasn’t seen her mother since then, either."

Gray froze, then sank back into the chair. Alex was right, damn it. It rankled, but he had to admit the truth. At least he’d been a grown man, if inexperienced in business, when his father had left; Faith had been only fourteen, as helpless and vulnerable as a child. He didn’t know anything about her life between then and now, except that she was a widow and now owned a successful travel agency, but he’d bet his last red cent it hadn’t been pleasant. Living with Amos Devlin and those two hoodlum boys, as well as her slut of a sister, couldn’t have been easy. It wouldn’t have been easy before, but at least Renee had been there.

"Let up on her, Gray," Alex said softly. "She deserves better than the reception she’s getting from some people, and part of it’s your fault."

Gray picked up the glass and swirled the whiskey, looking down into the amber depths. "I can’t," he said gruffly. He got up and carried his drink to the window, where he stood staring at his reflection in the glass, and the darkness beyond. He took another sip of fortification. "She has to go, before I do something that really hurts Monica and Mother."