MOON FALL (32 page)

Letting Sara go was one of the hardest things John had ever
done
.
As he watched her walk away, he wanted to stop her, to
take her home with him, not only to make love to her, but to
keep her safe. She was in danger, he knew that as well as he
knew his own name.

It was a powerful feeling, the kind that Minerva Payne had
rightly accused him of having. Instinct, intuition, precognition:
whatever it was, he knew it was true.

He drove home
.
Trying to keep his mind off Sara-
he
couldn't do anything for her until he heard her story tomorrow-
he concentrated on Minerva. Until now, he'd forgotten
about the envelope she'd given him at the cemetery and he
was suddenly very curious about its contents.

As always, the house seemed empty with Mark gone, so he
turned on the TV to fill the void, then went to the closet and
retrieved the envelope from his suit. He returned to the living
room.
The X
-
Files
was just starting. It was Mark's favorite,
and John knew he and Corey were probably glued to the
Addamses' set. Normally he avoided the show, as he avoided
anything with a touch of the weird, but he found himself watching
it, engrossed. During each commercial, he examined the
envelope but didn't open it; now that it was in his hands, he
wasn't so sure he wanted to know what was inside. Whatever
it was, it would no doubt complicate his life even more.
But
it might have some bearing on Mark's safety
.
..

The ending credits rolled and grimly, slowly, John opened
the envelope
.
First he drew out a note written on a piece of
stationery in an elegant, precise hand. ''Please study the
enclosed history and then return it to me
.
It is more important
than you realize.
Sincerely
, Minerva Payne." He set the note
aside and unfolded a sheet of typing paper
.
It was a hastily
written copy of the Lawson family tree.

He had never looked at the family tree before; it just wasn't
something that had interested him. But now he found it fascinating.
For a moment, he wondered how Minerva had come to
have a copy; then he saw that Tobias's son Joshua had married
a woman named Emma Payne Moonfall. By the birth
date, she
had to be Jeremiah Moonfall's daughter. That surprised him,
but it was Emma Moonfall's middle name, Payne, that intrigued
him. Was there actually a tie to Minerva, as well? He wondered
if Minerva came from some offshoot of the clan. Was that why
the old woman kept insisting he and Mark and Gus had the
same
"
gift" for intuition as she?

Taking the paper, he went into his office and pulled a smal
l
paperbound book,
The Story of Moonfall,
from a shelf. He
turned to the section on Jeremiah Moonfall and read one sentence:
Jeremiah Moonfall and his wife Minerva arriv
e
d h
e
re
in 1875.

''Minerva?" he asked aloud. He scanned the pages and found
that the Moonfalls had three daughters; Emma, who married
his ancestor, Tobias, and two others, Leticia and Desma, both
of whom presumably left the town-
they were mentioned no
further. Perhaps, he thought, one of them had gotten pregnant
out of wedlock and that had led to Minerva's line. She would
have been shunned. Perhaps she went to live in the cabin in
the woods where
the
Minerva
he knew
now lived. The townsfolk wouldn't
have wanted to have anything to do with an unwed mother,
and the witch stories might have been started at that time.
Whether he was right or not, he didn't know, but it did make
sense.

He returned to his chair in the living room and perused the
chart again. The blood tie couldn't be the only thing Minerva
had wanted him to see, could it? If so, then she was reading
importance into it that just wasn't there. Study it, she had said.

And then there was Gus. That night at the tavern, he had
talked about cycles, something to do with a passage of years.
Gazing at the chart, he saw that the Lawsons seemed to produce
only male children, which was probably nothing but coincidence.
Tobias Lawson and his wife had had two sons, Joshua
and Albert. Albert had died in 1900 at the age of fourteen,
while Joshua had grown up and married Emma Moonfall.
Together, they'd produced his grandfather, Agustus, and another
son, Edward, who'd died in 1924, aged thirteen. Gus, in
turn
,
h
ad had two sons, John's father, Henry, and Howard, who'd
died in 1948, aged fourteen. Then came John and his own
brother Greg, who'd died in 1972, at the age of ten. And
now there was only Mark, who would be fourteen on October
twenty-first.

There was no pattern to the deaths of the surviving brothers
all
died at well-advanced ages except for his own father.

But there was a definite pattern to the early deaths. All were
between the ages of ten and fourteen, and they had died in
1900, 1924, 1948, and 1972. All the deaths were twenty-four
years apart
-
and that was what Gus had said: there was a
twenty
-
four
-
year cycle.

Minerva had told him it was important to his son's safety
that he talk to her after reading the family tree.
It's 1996. Mark
is the right age.

It's nonsense
...
isn't it?
He stared at the chart, trying to
convince himself it was all a huge coincidence. But if this had
been an impersonal case he was investigating, he knew he
wouldn't deny the link. Not in a million years.

But why had no one said anything before this? Why hadn't
anyone noticed the pattern?
Twenty-four years is a long time.
And Gus knew about it.
His grandfather had seen it happen
twice; why hadn't he spoken up sooner? Maybe because he
didn't really believe it. Lord knew John himself was skeptical.

He glanced at the clock
.
It was far too late to visit Minerva
tonight. He sat back and tried to remember how his father's
brother had died, but he realized that he had no knowledge of
any of the youthful deaths except Greg's, and what he knew
of that was terribly sketchy, even though he must have been
present. He needed to know the dates the others had died. He
had a feeling, though, that he already did
:
the same day of the
year as Greg. He also wanted to know the ways they'd met
their deaths.

Gus would have stored the information somewhere in his
house, but it would be easier emotionally to check the county
records on Monday. For that matter, he could possibly get the
dates at the cemetery on his way to Minerva's tomorrow.

He folded the sheet and replaced it in the envelope, then
sat back and tried to concentrate on the television's mindless
babbling. It was a losing battle.

He turned his thoughts to the kiss he and Sara had shared,
and finally he fell asleep, lulled by remembered pleasures that
soon fled under nightmare visions of Gus, Pete Parker, Greg,
and finally, his own son, all begging him for help he was
incapable of providing.

''Thank you for a pleasant evening, Richard." Sara stepped
out of the doctor's black BMW before he could come around
to open the door for her
.
She pulled her coat close around
her, nervous in the dark garage
.
Although Richard had been
chivalrous since she'd returned to the tavern after seeing John
Lawson, she was uneasy, unable to stop wondering if he might
have seen them together, even though he gave no indication
that he had.

The garage was unbearably dark and she gladly let Dashwood
take her arm and guide her outside.

"Would you like to come to my apartment for a nightcap?"
he asked after they navigated the damp lawn and were safely
on the stone walkway.

"I would, but I'm getting a headache," she said, cringing
at the sound of the hoariest old excuse in the book coming
from her mouth.

"I can give you something for it."

"No, thanks, it's just from the wine. It'll go away when I
go to bed. To slee
p," she added
lamely
.

''I have something that will get rid of it much faster." As
h
e spoke, he gently put his finger under her chin and tilted it
up to make her look at him. At his eyes.

Sure enough, once she gazed into them, she was tempted to
change her answer. "I'm sorry," she said with effort. "Not
tonight."

He kissed her gently on the lips, and while it wasn't unpleasant,
she felt none of the magic, none of the passion that she had
experienced with John. There was, she decided, no comparison.

"Are you certain?" he asked
.

''Another time," she said, forcing a smile and setting her
gaze at a point just above his eyes. She knew she would have
acquiesced if it hadn't been for the fresh memory of John
Lawson's kiss.

He smiled, unoffended. ''Then at least allow me to see you
to your building."

"I'd like that."

They strolled to the dormitory
;
then
Dashwood
stopped in
the shadows. "I'll watch until you're safely inside. I don't want
to sully your reputation among the girls."

She nodded
.
"Richard, this probably isn't the right time, but
I wonder if you might do me a favor."

"Anything, as long as you promise to see me again."

"Of course."

"What is it, then?"

"Kelly Reed."

"She's fine."

"I know, but she's been locked up for a week already, and
I can't stop worrying about her. Do you think you might be
able to convince Mother Lucy to stay her sentence?"

"She's very strict about such things."

Sara smiled. "But she dotes on you." "Dotes" wasn't the
right word, she thought
-
"lusts after" was closer. "She'll
listen
to you."

"I don't know," he said slowly.

"You sound as if you're afraid of her." That, she thought,
should kick in the testosterone.

"How little you know," the doctor said gently. "If you're
wise, you'll be afraid of her, too."

She hadn't expected the answer. "Why?"

He hesitated a long moment, then bent and kissed her on the
lips. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you. Once she's out of solitary, I'll be able to concentrate
on other things."

"Like me?"

She smiled coyly, and after the barest of nods, turned and
walked swiftly to the door, smiling to herself. She'd behaved
as badly as Marcia Crowley and her crowd. Normally, that kind
of manipulative female behavior repelled her, but not this time.
She smiled to herself.
Desperate times, desperate measures.

She'd finally won a round and probably secured Kelly's
freedom.