After the Night (46 page)

"You’re not responsible for what she feels or doesn’t feel," Faith replied, touching her thumb to his lower lip. "You and Monica loved him, so he won’t be unmourned."

"Monica." Gray’s mouth tightened, and his eyes turned flinty. "She confessed what she did, about the notes and the cat. Michael’s all torn up about it. She broke several laws with that little caper."

"Let things settle down before you do anything," Faith advised. "Family’s family, after all. You don’t want to do anything rash and cause a breach. Remember, she’s been through a lot, too." Her own family was scattered to the four winds, and her life was littered with loss, so she knew what she was saying. She saw the swift acknowledgment of that reflected in Gray’s eyes.

A huge yawn overtook her, and her head dropped against his shoulder. "That’s my last piece of advice for the night," she said, and yawned again.

He kissed her forehead and eased her away from him. He had to force himself to leave her, but he knew if he didn’t do
it now, he’d collapse on the bed with her. "Get some sleep, baby. Call if you need me."

She had one friend in town, Faith realized over the next few days. Whether Halley Johnson had learned from town gossip where Faith was staying and volunteered her own services, or Gray had called her and asked her to help, Faith didn’t know and didn’t ask. Halley knocked on the motel room door at ten o’clock the next morning, and put herself at Faith’s service.

Faith had already called Margot and arranged for money to be wired to her, but she still needed some means of getting to the bank to get the money. She also needed, quite desperately, to do some shopping, and she didn’t know if any of the stores in town would sell anything to her. The situation between herself and Gray had altered drastically, but no one in town knew it.

"First things first," Halley announced, when Faith said she had to go to the bank. She looked Faith over with a critical eye as she carefully walked out to get into Halley’s car. The burns weren’t all that uncomfortable, but Faith felt as if she’d been hit by a truck, probably the result of the two bone-jarring collisions she’d had with the ground. "I’ll take you to my house," Halley said. "Feel free to use my makeup, do your hair, pamper yourself a little. And while you’re doing that, if you’ll tell me your sizes, I’ll do some quick shopping for you. Nothing fancy," she said, holding up her hand when Faith opened her mouth to protest. "Just underwear, a pair of slacks and a shirt, so you can get out of that robe. You can pay me back when you pick up your money."

With it put to her like that, Faith couldn’t refuse. "Thanks," she said, smiling at Halley. "I was wondering if I’d be able to buy clothes in town."

"You will," Halley said with complete assurance, "or I’ll call Gray Rouillard myself, and tell him to straighten out his mess. Besides, the whole town’s buzzing with the news that his daddy didn’t really run off with your mama, that you figured he’d been killed and came back to town to try to prove it. We’re all just flabbergasted about Mr. Chelette. Imagine getting in an argument with his best friend and
accidentally killing him, and trying to hide it all of these years! It must have driven him crazy, for him to burn down your house like that. Is it true he tried to shoot you, too, and Monica Rouillard managed to shoot first?"

"Something like that," Faith said faintly, wondering what the official version was. She didn’t want to contradict whatever was being told. As far as she knew, only she, Gray, and Monica knew about Monica’s unwilling seven-year affair with Alex.

Halley dropped her at her house, and Faith enjoyed another long, soaking shower, shampooing her hair twice with strawberry-scented shampoo before the stench of smoke was completely gone. She took Halley at her word and indulged in moisturizer from head to foot, after which she began to feel almost human again. She used a minimal amount of makeup, just enough to put a bit of color in her face, and blow-dried her hair. By the time she was finished, Halley was back with her packages, which blessedly included a new toothbrush.

The clothes were simple, cotton panties and bra, and a lightweight knit pants and tunic outfit. Just having underwear again was wonderful. She had been acutely aware of being naked beneath the robe and scrubs. Halley had a good eye for color; the knit outfit she’d selected was a flattering pale pink. A carroty redhead couldn’t have worn the color, but Faith’s hair was a dark, almost wine-colored red, and the knowledge that she looked good in the pink perked up her spirits.

Halley stayed with her most of the day, driving her where she needed to go: the bank, first and foremost. Having a thousand dollars in cash did wonders for her sense of security, and the first thing she did was reimburse Halley for her clothes. Next visit was to the insurance office, which thankfully was one-stop shopping, because the same company insured both house and car. Faith had recovered enough to be amused by the sympathetic, almost deferential treatment she received in the insurance office; the line between celebrity and notoriety was a very thin one, but evidently she was now on the celebrity side.

As the morning wore on, she was grateful for her new
status. Because she was totally without identification, the insurance agent had to step in and verify everything before she could get replacement credit cards, credit card companies not being inclined to blithely send out cards to everyone who called. New cards were being expressed to her in care of the insurance agent, and would be there the next day. The insurance company also took care of a rental car for her, and one would be there that afternoon.

Next was shopping, and Faith needed so much that her mind boggled at the enormity of it. Even when she’d been run out of the parish, she hadn’t lost all her possessions, meager as they’d been. This time she was starting from scratch, but this time she also had resources.

Emcient Halley suggested they make a list, and that helped Faith get her thoughts organized. Suitcase, purse, wallet; shampoo, soap, deodorant, toothpaste, tampons; makeup and perfume; razor, brush, comb, hair dryer, travel iron; underwear, hosiery, shoes, clothing. "My God," Faith said, staring at the list, which kept getting longer and longer. "This will cost a fortune."

"Only because you’re buying it all at one time. Everything on there is something you would have bought anyway, eventually. What would you leave off, anyway? The makeup?"

"Get real," Faith said, and they laughed. It was her first laugh of the day, and it felt good.

They descended on the local Wal-Mart, and filled two carts. Even keeping her purchases to a minimum of the necessities, she was accumulating major stuff. None of the shoes fit, however, which meant another stop. Halley was so cheerful about the entire process, though, that Faith found herself enjoying the expedition. She had never participated in that rite of American girlhood, shopping with friends, and this was a new experience for her.

Halley unwittingly echoed her thoughts. "Wow, this is fun! I haven’t done this in a coon’s age. We need to do it again – under different circumstances, of course."

The total tally put a sizeable dent in her cash fund. That accomplished, Faith realized she was exhausted, and an observant Halley drove her back to the motel.

Gray called her that night, and he sounded as exhausted as she still felt. "How are you, baby?" he asked. "Did you get everything done today?"

"I’m fine," she said. "Functional, at least." She had taken a two-hour nap, but it hadn’t helped much. "The insurance company is handling the details with the rental car and credit card companies, so everything is working out. Halley took me shopping, so I have clothes now."

"Damn."

She ignored that comment, but a smile flirted with her mouth. "How do
you
feel?"

"As if I’m three days older than dirt."

She hesitated, not certain if she wanted to hear the answer to her next question. "Have you found anything yet?"

"Not yet." His voice was strained.

"How’s Monica?"

He sighed. "I don’t know. She just sits with her head down. She and Mike will have to work this out themselves; I can’t run interference for her on this."

"Take care of yourself," she said, tenderness vibrant in her tone.

"You, too," he said softly.

As soon as he hung up, Faith called Renee. She felt guilty for not having thought of it sooner, knowing how upset Renee had been.

Her grandmother answered the phone. When Faith asked for Renee, the old woman said in a fretful voice, "Guess she’s gone. Took her clothes and lit out, night before last. I ain’t heard from her."

Faith’s heart sank. Renee had probably panicked after confessing what had happened at the summerhouse, and now she was running again, for no reason.

"If you hear from her, Granny, there’s something I want you to tell her. It’s important. The man who killed Guy Rouillard is dead. She doesn’t have to be afraid anymore."

Her grandmother was silent a moment. "So that’s why she was so jumpy," she finally said. "Well, maybe she’ll call. She left some stuff, so she might come back for it. I’ll tell her, if she does."

Mr. Pleasant’s car was pulled from the lake the next afternoon. Mr. Pleasant was in it.

Probably on Gray’s orders, a deputy came to the motel to tell Faith. The young man was uncomfortable and respectful, twisting his hat in his hands. He couldn’t say how Mr. Pleasant had died, but the body was being taken to the parish morgue, where he would lie in the same room with his killer. Faith had to bite back an instinctive protest, knowing it would be useless.

After the deputy left, she sat down on the bed and had a good cry, then called Detective Ambrose. Poor Mr. Pleasant didn’t have any remaining family, but the detective promised to find out what he could about any arrangements Mr. Pleasant might have made for his own funeral, given the state of his health. There was red tape to go through, of course, since his death was a homicide, but with his killer already dead, gathering forensic evidence for a trial wasn’t an issue.

Guy Rouillard’s Cadillac was found the next morning, not far from where Mr. Pleasant’s car had been found. The long skeleton in the backseat was the only earthly remains of Gray’s father. Alex Chelette’s method of disposal had been simple: put them in their cars, prop a brick on the accelerator, and put the car in gear. Sheriff McFane was the one who had thought about finding the cars, and there were only three places on the lake where the water was deep enough to hide a car, and it was possible to get a car there. With their search locations narrowed down, it hadn’t taken them long to find the bodies.

Faith didn’t get to talk to Gray, but information flew around the town, and she knew he was ruthlessly using his influence to get Guy’s remains released as soon as possible, for a funeral twelve years delayed. Noelle Rouillard appeared in town for the first time since her husband’s disappearance, looking tragic and unbelievably beautiful in a black dress. Gray’s cynical assessment of his mother’s reaction had been on target; being a widow was far preferable to being abandoned. Now that everyone knew her husband had
not
left her for the town whore, she could hold her head up again.

The funeral was held four days after Guy’s remains were found. Though she knew people would whisper about her presence, Faith bought a black dress and attended the service, sitting on a back pew beside Halley and her family. Gray didn’t see her there at the church, but later, after the funeral procession had transported Guy’s body to the burial site, his dark gaze was drawn by the sunlight on her flaming hair.

He was standing with a supporting arm around Monica. Sheriff McFane was on her other side, so Faith supposed the engagement was still on. Noelle was bearing up with the sympathetic support of all her old friends, the ones she had refused to see for a dozen years. Faith was some ten yards away, separated from him by a group of people, but their eyes met and she knew he was thinking about what she had said. Guy was sincerely mourned by his children; what Noelle felt didn’t matter.

She stared at him, drinking him in with her eyes. He looked tired, but composed. His mane of hair was pulled back and secured at the back of his neck, and he wore a beautifully fitted, double-breasted black Italian suit. Sweat gleamed on his forehead in the noonday heat.

She made no move to go to him, and he didn’t gesture her closer. What was between them was private, not for public display at his father’s funeral. He knew he had her support, for he had cried out his grief in her arms. It was enough that she was there.

It was as they were leaving the grave site that Faith saw Yolanda Foster, standing by herself; Lowell was nowhere in evidence. Yolanda had been crying, but now her eyes were dry as she stared at the grave, an open look of heartbreak on her face. Then she gathered herself and turned away, and Faith felt all the pieces of the puzzle click into place.

It had never made sense that Guy would leave everything for Renee, not after all the years they’d been having an affair. Alex had said that Guy had been planning to divorce Noelle, and that had made more sense, but abruptly Faith knew that it wasn’t Renee Guy had been planning to marry. After all his years of tomcatting around, Guy Rouillard had fallen in love that summer, with the mayor’s wife. He had
protected Yolanda’s reputation, not even telling his best friend about her. Gossip about them had leaked out, or Ed Morgan wouldn’t have known, but their affair hadn’t been common knowledge. It was even possible Renee had told Ed that Guy was seeing the mayor’s wife.