Going Once (Forces of Nature) (20 page)

BOOK: Going Once (Forces of Nature)
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“So he’s killing survivors because she wasn’t rescued?”

“One of the doctors at the hospital where he was being treated said he was distraught because God saved some but He didn’t save Louise. He said he was mad at God and someone should kill the ones God meant to save.”

“Oh, Lord, your profile of him was so on target. I can almost feel sorry for him, except for the horrible things he’s done. I wonder why they let him go?”

“I don’t feel sorry for him. Lots of people lose loved ones in tragic ways, and they don’t turn on society. As for his hospital stay, he hadn’t been declared insane, just kept for observation because he pretty much broke down after his wife’s death. According to their records, one day he just got dressed and walked out. They didn’t know it until he was already gone. They had tape of him leaving the hospital, but at the time all they had in his file were the ramblings of a man who’d had a nervous breakdown. He posed no threat to society and they let it pass, because everything he’d said fell under doctor-patient confidentiality.”

She slipped off the side of the bed and wrapped her arms around his waist. He leaned in for a kiss as she closed her eyes. When he finally pulled back, she reached for him again, pulling him close.

He took a deep breath and gave her another bit of news he was afraid might upset her.

“We took a boat out on the river yesterday. The water has gone down enough to see that your house is completely gone. I guess it washed off the foundation.”

“I gave it up in my heart that night in the tree, and I’ve learned the hard way that things are never as important as the ones you love. Take me home, Tate. I need roots and a place to fall asleep in your arms at night.”

He put his arms around her.

“Then we’ve got a plane to catch and a life together to start.”

She looked up at him with her heart in her eyes.

“Whither thou goest...”

He took her hand.

“...I will go.”

Epilogue

Washington, D.C.

T
he first thing Tate did when he got back to D.C. was pick up his mother’s ashes, something he needed to do by himself.

So he found himself standing outside the funeral home, wrestling with the conversation he was about to have, and then made himself walk inside.

A middle-aged woman dressed in a gray suit got up from her desk and went to meet him.

“Welcome to Fielding’s Mortuary. My name is Emma. May I help you?”

“My name is Tate Benton. I’m here to pick up my mother’s ashes. Her name was Julia Marie Benton. She passed a few weeks ago.”

She checked their records, then paused. “Will you be needing a memorial urn?”

Tate took a slow breath. “No, ma’am. They will be scattered at her request.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll be right back,” she said, and left him alone in the office.

He sat down, then stared at the toes of his shoes because he couldn’t look up without revealing the fact that he was crying.

When the lady returned carrying a small black box, he couldn’t speak. How did a woman as beautiful and vital as his mother had been become condensed to the point of fitting inside a container the size of a box of tissues?

“There are no outstanding costs associated with this account, so if you’ll sign here...” the woman said, pointing to a line on the release statement.

One thing his father had managed to do right was pay to put her to rest.

He signed his name.

“I am sorry for your loss,” the lady said, and handed him the box.

“Thank you,” he said, and held it close to his chest as he walked away.

Once inside his car, he tucked the box close against him and drove out of town, heading for the Virginia mountains. There was a spot overlooking a small valley that she’d loved to go when the leaves were beginning to turn. She’d always said it must be where God lived, because it was so beautiful there.

He thought of Nola as he drove, and realized what a gift she had given him—this time alone with his mother—because he had not been able to be with her at the end. He began to talk to his mother as he drove, knowing it would be the last time he would have any kind of contact with what was left of her physical body.

“So, Mom, I’m sure you know all about Nola and me. I consider myself blessed to have this second chance, and don’t worry, I won’t mess it up. As you know, I finally had it out with Dad. I just want you to know that I’m not sad. I don’t think I ever really knew him.”

He glanced at his GPS and then down at the box.

“We’re almost there. You would have loved this trip.”

His chest felt tight, and there was a knot in his belly that wouldn’t go away. The urge to weep was strong as he reached the scenic overlook, pulled over and stopped.

He took the box with him to the rim, and then stopped to admire the deep rich greens and the ribbon of blue water in the valley below.

“Hey, Mom, just look at all this. You’re going to love it here.”

His hands were shaking as he took off the lid. He couldn’t look at what was in it without remembering his childhood and the nights she’d comforted him after he’d had bad dreams, the cookies she’d made, and the cups of cocoa they’d shared on cold winter nights.

This isn’t me.

He heard the soft voice as clearly as he felt the wind on his face. And just like that, the agony of what he was about to do was gone.

“Love you, Mom,” he said softly, then tilted the box and let the ashes spill out into the updraft coming up from the floor of the valley.

He caught his breath as, for a few seconds, it appeared as if they were going down instead of up. Then the wind caught them, and swirled them out and away into space.

Tate dropped the lid and then the box down into the valley, and closed his eyes. He flashed on his mother’s face, and then, like the ashes, it was gone.

He got back in the car and headed down the mountain, suddenly anxious to get back to Nola, to the warmth of her smile and the love in her eyes. He’d been a long time hurting. It felt good to be loved.

* * *

Nola was fussing with her dress and tugging at her veil. Both were simple, short and white, her homage to a formal wedding. She’d always planned to be married in her mother’s gown, but that was no longer an option, and with only two weeks to plan...

Tate knocked, opened the door then stopped and took a deep breath.

“Oh, wow.”

She looked up at him in the mirror.

“You’re not supposed to see me ahead of time.”

“I felt the need to break a rule,” he said softly.

She turned around and then clutched her hands against her middle. There were tears in her eyes.

He frowned. “Are you sad?”

“Happy tears for sure. So let’s do this.”

He laughed, grabbed her hand and headed out the door.

An hour later a priest named Father Michael was pronouncing them husband and wife, and their two witnesses, Wade and Cameron, were waiting for their chance to kiss the bride.

Nola had known moments of joy in her life, but nothing like what she was feeling now. It was as if fate had dragged her through hell backward just so she would appreciate how perfect the rest of her life was going to be.

“You may kiss the bride,” Father Michael said.

And Tate did, over and over, until Nola’s head was spinning and their witnesses were grousing about it being their turn.

Nola could see her reflection in Tate’s eyes when he stopped. She looked as happy as she felt.

“Hello, Mr. Benton.”

He smiled.

“And hello to you, too, Mrs. Benton. Are you ready for this life?”

“Am I ever,” she said, and threw her arms around his neck.

The new scar on the back of her arm pulled, but she ignored it. Pain belonged to the past.

“My turn,” Wade said, and kissed her soundly, then handed her off to Cameron.

“Congratulations,” Cameron said, and kissed her, too.

Then they both shook Tate’s hand as they teased him, Wade wanting cake and Cameron announcing they should name their first child after him.

For a few seconds Nola stepped back, watching these three men who had become such an important part of her life, and realized that, for better or worse, they were part of her new family.

“There’s cake at the house,” she announced.

“I am so there,” Wade said.

“Like we didn’t know that,” Tate said.

“Are you going on a honeymoon?” Cameron asked.

“No, we’re going house-hunting,” Nola said. “One with a room big enough for my studio, so I can paint pictures while you three chase bad guys, and when you come home, I will feed you and love you all.”

Tate took her in his arms.

“But you’ll love me most.”

She smiled. “I will love you most.”

* * *

It was the following spring when a storm front rolling through Texas spawned one tornado after another, then traveled up into Oklahoma and on into Missouri, leaving dozens dead, hundreds injured and millions and millions of dollars’ worth of damage in its wake.

It wasn’t until the third nude body was pulled out of the wreckage with Taser marks and dark, ugly bruising around the neck that the local authorities realized they were dealing with a serial killer.

Tate had just been called into headquarters to be briefed about the deaths in Dallas, and they were wondering if there was any connection to their old nemesis the Stormchaser, when his cell phone signaled a text. He opened the message and then felt like he’d been kicked in the gut.

The message was, as usual, from an unfamiliar phone number, but it was obvious that the Stormchaser had surfaced in a very ugly way.

I am not dead, so do not weep. It was not my time, I have vows to keep.

* * * * *

Look for GOING TWICE, the next book in
New York Times
bestseller Sharon Sala’s
FORCES OF NATURE
trilogy,
coming in February 2014
from Harlequin MIRA.

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ISBN: 9781460319451

GOING ONCE

Copyright © 2013 by Sharon Sala

All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical,
now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

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BOOK: Going Once (Forces of Nature)
6.67Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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