Corin & Angelique (After the Fall of Night) (8 page)

Jordon had checked into the inn, but he’d been assigned room 131, not room
244, hoping the clerk didn’t recall that fact.

“Thank you. I’ll be more careful this time.” Jordon took the card and hurried
away.

Finding room
244, he slipped inside and shut the heavy, blue door behind him. Scanning the room, he found it cold and musky, reeking of an offensive, overpowering odor. This stink he’d smelled many times before—a very distinctive mark of the killer he pursued.

“You’ve been here all right.”
The stink dissolved any doubt of the killer in Jackson County being the fugitive he was trailing. “But where are you now?”

The room was clean, despite the
odor, and no different from every other time the killer had chosen a motel room for refuge, the closet had been emptied and its contents tossed in a pile left of the wardrobe, supplying a makeshift coffin.

Jordon scoured the room, finding no personal items. The wretch had already
taken flight.

He cursed.
“You knew I was getting close.”

The killer was smart, knowing not to linger in one place too long. And Jordon,
the bloodhound that he was, kept the fiend on his toes. He would never give up the hunt. At some point, the manslayer would slip up, and when he did, Jordon would be right there to nab him.

“I’m going to get you
, rotter.” Jordon headed out the door. “One way or another, Nightwalker, I will eventually get you.”

* * * *

It was July twenty-third, a morning Angelique would never be able to drive from her memories. She and Tomes were laying Louisa to rest, and knowing he was agonizing over the thought of having to entomb his dead wife in the depths of the cold, dark earth made her sick to her stomach.

Since Louisa had no family to speak of, the funeral arrangements had gone
relatively smoothly. Angelique and Tomes had only one estranged uncle and a couple of distant cousins scattered far and wide about the country or beyond. They had no list of family connections since no one had cared to stay in contact over the years. Angelique doubted she’d even recognize a blood kin should she ever meet any of them on the street.

The service was simple, conducted at Louisa’s gravesite beneath a partially
enclosed pole-tent that barely fit beneath the outstretched limbs of an old oak.

Angelique and Tomes sat in the first of four rows staring at the pearl-colored
coffin laid out before them, adorned with a wreath of white roses. Several other flower arrangements sat on either side of the casket, sent by friends and neighbors. A sorrowful hymn—
In the Garden—
played over a portable CD player, and when it was done, a song Louisa had always loved—
Angel Band—
followed, both more than befitting such a time of mourning.

A handful of friends and acquaintances paid their respects. They made polite
appearances—rather expeditious with their condolences. Because she and Tomes were being portrayed as suspects in Louisa’s killing, she was surprised that any of them had bothered to show up at all. Still, she’d have been lying not to admit being spurned didn’t hurt—some of them lifelong neighbors, people she’d considered their closest friends. But at least she and Tomes had each other for support, and their tie was strong.

“Pamela sure made a fast getaway,” Tomes remarked with a glower.

“Well, with everything that’s been said about us on the news, they probably don’t know what to believe. We’re the talk of the town,” Angelique replied.

“Real friends would have stuck around. Take a look, sis.” He nodded. “As you
can see, there’s no one left sitting here but us…just you and me.”

Angelique glanced back at the rows of empty chairs. Everyone was gone.
“They’re most likely scared of getting involved.”

She
blamed the media for slathering their unfortunate experience, along with insinuating speculation, across every news-broadcasting network and newspaper in the area. There was no escaping the injustice. And to make matters worse, the murder had now taken on national exposure.

“A lifetime here, and we can’t count on anyone in
this town,” Tomes sounded resentful…indignant.

With the service ended and all attendees gone, the funeral director
approached, ready to conclude the proceedings, but Angelique asked for a little more time.

She and Tomes
sat in silent mourning, gazing on the casket. Neither said a single word for several minutes, each submerged in their memories of Louisa.

“I want to see her,” Tomes
broke the silence, his desire unexpected.

“What?” Angelique
shot him a questioning glance.

“You heard me, Angel. I want the casket opened so I can see her,” he
persisted, standing and motioning for the director who stood at the back of the tent.

Angelique rose to her feet as the
overweight, balding man hopped into action, a severe expression masking his face.

“Sir?” he responded.

“I want this lid opened so I can view my wife one last time.”

“Oh, sir, I w-wouldn’t recommend it,” the director discouraged, shaking his
head, his thin lips stretched tight.

“I did request that you not seal the casket until services were completed. It
hasn’t been sealed, has it?”

“No,
no sir, it hasn’t. It’s just that, well, you may wish to remember her as she was, due to the circumstances…you understand.”

Angelique
understood the director’s meaning. Louisa had undergone a complete autopsy, including the head and organs, and would probably have little resemblance to the woman they’d known and loved. Horrific images flashed in her mind of a stitched together
corpse bride,
filling her with dread.

“Tomes, maybe he’s right…the autopsy,” she reminded him, not wanting
either of them plagued by nightmares for the rest of their days. At present, they had fond memories to hold onto of the beautiful woman she’d been in life. “I really don’t think you should.” Angelique tried to deter her brother from making what she feared would be a mistake.

“How many times do I have to say it, Angel, I want the casket opened.” Tomes
was determined.

The director started to protest again, “Sir, I really—”

“Either you open it, or I’ll do it myself,” Tomes snapped.

The director looked at Angelique, biting the tip of his thumb nervously. She
knew he was hoping for further support, but Angelique offered none. Despite her fears, she had no right to interfere in such a personal matter regarding her brother. If Tomes needed to see Louisa one last time for closure, who was she to stand in the way of that?

“Please open it,” she
told the director. “My brother needs to see his wife…say goodbye.”

Angelique heard the director release a grumble beneath his breath.

“All right, just one minute,” he muttered, hustling over to the east side of the tent and lowering the wall flap, leaving only the west side of the shelter open.

Angelique didn’t understand the purpose of the director’s actions. The interior
was already dim and the sun had reached a position where it cast no bothersome rays, leaving her to conclude that he must have been attempting to darken the space in hopes of cushioning the terrible shock to come. She shuddered at the thought, wondering just how butchered Louisa was. Unable to stop herself, once again Angelique imagined the worst of conditions—an autopsied nightmare.

Tomes stood next to the casket while the director unlatched the top.
Angelique, standing alongside, held tightly onto his arm for support, just in case her knees should grow weak. Taking a deep breath, she squinted while the director raised the left portion of the lid, exposing the upper body. Awaiting the harsh impact, she stiffened. When Louisa’s face came into view, a cold chill swept up her spine. She exhaled and took a staggering step back, looking down on her sister-in-law in astonishment. The autopsy marks were hardly noticeable, as if she’d been stitched back together with the utmost precision and care by a master surgeon.

“She’s beautiful,” Angelique whispered, looking up at Tomes, unable to
believe how calm he remained. However, she couldn’t say the same about the director, who stood with mouth agape, his shocked expression telling her that he, too, had expected much worse. Till this point, she’d assumed he’d been the one to prepare the body for burial, but by his reaction, she realized someone else must have done the job.

“I’ll give you some privacy,”
the man backed away and returned to his previous position at the back of the tent.

Angelique
stared at Louisa and quivered inside at the pristine condition of her body, looking so healthy it was haunting. Instead of seeing the pieced-together
corpse bride
she’d envisioned, an angel lay there in that silk-lined casket, clothed in a feminine blue dress. A double strand of white pearls wrapped her neckline, a gift from Tomes on their first anniversary. She was a vision to behold, far from the condition one would expect of a four-day-old autopsied corpse. Angelique couldn’t help worrying that Louisa might open her eyes, sit up, and speak at any given moment, shocking all three of them into heart failure. And with that thought, Angelique grew lightheaded and had to sit down.

“Are you okay?” Tomes helped her to a chair.

“Just a little overwhelmed. You take the time you need to say goodbye. I’ll be fine right here,” she assured him.

Tomes stepped back over to the casket and took Louisa’s hand. He leaned in
close and spoke to her in a soft, loving voice.

“I feel you with me, even now, inspiring me from beyond the grave. You must
know you were cherished. You didn’t deserve this…not you.”

He wiped his cheeks, unable to
hold back his tears.

“You will always own my heart,” he
gently rubbed her fingers. “Forever…I will love you forever. You’ll live on in my heart and in my memories. You’ll never be forgotten. I just wish… I wish that…,” he stumbled with what he wanted to say. “I wish you were with me now, that we had more time. I wish I knew why this happened. I wish so many things.”

Angelique watched through swelling tears as Tomes placed a soft kiss on
Louisa's lips. She wondered how their lives had made such a drastic turn, leading them to this point, with Tomes standing over Louisa’s casket, saying goodbye to the woman he had planned to spend the rest of his life with.

“I love you, bright eyes,” he whispered. “I was going to leave you with the
words of our song,
To Me
—the one we played at our wedding and a thousand times since. But this morning when I was dressing to come here, a Bonnie Tyler song came on the radio,
Total Eclipse of the Heart.
And she had it right, bright eyes.”

This should have been a private moment for Tomes, but Angelique didn’t
want to leave him alone. If he needed her, she meant to be there for him. But out of respect, she turned away, trying not to watch, but she couldn’t help overhearing as he sang to Louisa in a hushed voice, his final serenade drawing her eyes back as her heart broke for her brother.

Tomes star
ed fixedly into Louisa’s face as if willing her to live. Angelique felt his dark depression and fearing for his state of mind, for his life, she mumbled a prayer to God, that He might comfort Tomes and be a light to guide him through this dark, dismal time.

She’d seen
Tomes suffer before, with the loss of their parents, but never to such a critical degree. She knew better than anyone how much he loved Louisa, but she had to make him see that life does go on and somehow deter him from continuing down his current path of self-destruction. He had barely slept or ate since the murder, and the strain was evident in his physical appearance. She could only hope that the old saying was true and time really did heal all wounds.

The director coughed, prompting Angelique to
glance back. Seeing him fidgeting, she rose, stepped over to Tomes, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you ready?”

“I’ll never be ready to leave her. How can I?”

“She’s in heaven now. This is just her earthly body…an empty shell.”

“You really think she’s in heaven? You truly believe that?”

“Of course, where else would she be? Louisa was a good person. She was well loved, Tomes, by you and by me. And we’ll be with her again one day, on the other side.”

With that said, Tomes kissed Louisa one last time, let go of her hand, and
backed away from the casket. Angelique motioned for the director to close the lid, finding him quick in performing the task. Although, she had to admit relief at having it once again closed, for the sight of Louisa lying there, a sleeping beauty, was utterly disturbing. Something didn’t feel quite right, but she never would have revealed her fears to Tomes.