Sanctuary (48 page)

“Maybe that's true.” She spoke coolly to mask the hurt. “But easier or harder doesn't change the facts. Someone decided not to let Susan Peters live any longer. They used their hands and they choked the life out of her. Now questions have to be asked.”

Brian brooded into the dark. “They'll look toward the husband now.”

“I don't know.”

“They will. It's the logical step. Something happens to the wife, look to the husband. Odds are, he's the one who did it. They looked to my father when my mother left. Until they were satisfied she'd just . . . left. They'll take that poor bastard into some little room. And questions will have to be asked. Who knows, maybe he's the one who decided not to let Susan Peters live.”

He shifted his gaze to Kirby. She stood very straight, very composed under the yellow glow of the porch light. She still wore Jo's baggy sweats. But he'd seen her with the police, watched her relay information, rolling clinical terms off her tongue, before huddling over the body with the team from the coroner's office.

There was nothing delicate about her.

“You should go home, Kirby. There's nothing else for you to do here now.”

She wanted to weep. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pound her fists against the clear, thin wall he'd suddenly erected between them. “Why are you shutting me out, Brian?”

“Because I don't know what to do about you. And I never meant to let you in in the first place.”

“But you did.”

“Did I, Kirby? Or did you just jimmy the door?”

Jo's shadow fell between them before she stepped out. “They're finished here. The police.”

“Are you all right?” Kirby moved over to her. “You must be exhausted. I want you to go upstairs and lie down now. I can give you something to help you sleep.”

“No, I'm fine. Really.” She gave Kirby's hand a quick squeeze. “Better, in fact, for having gone through it step by step. I just feel sad and sorry, and grateful to be whole. Did Nathan go back?”

“Kate talked him into going upstairs.” Brian rose, walked closer to study her for himself. She looked steadier than he'd expected. “I don't think it would take much to persuade him to stay here tonight. Cops may be tromping around the river for hours yet.”

“Then we'll persuade him. You should stay too,” she said to Kirby.

“No, I'll be better at home.” She looked at Brian. “There's no need for me here. I'm sure one of the detectives will drive me back. I'll just get my bag.”

“You're welcome to stay,” Brian told her, but she flicked a cool, composed glance over her shoulder.

“I'll be better at home,” she repeated and let the screen door slam shut behind her.

“Why are you letting her go?” Jo asked quietly.

“Maybe I need to see if I can. Might be for the best.”

Jo thought of what Nathan had said just before the world had gone mad again. “Maybe we all should start thinking about what makes us happy instead of what might be best. I know I'm going to try, because you start running out of chances after a while. I've got something to say to you that I've passed up plenty of chances to say before.”

He shrugged his shoulders, tucked his hands in his pockets in what Jo thought of as his gloomy Hathaway stance. “Spill it, then.”

“I love you, Brian.” The warmth of saying it was nearly eclipsed by the sheer delight of watching the astonishment on his face.

He decided it was a trick, a feint to distract the eye before she delivered the jab. “And?”

“And I wish I'd said it sooner and more often.” She rose on her toes to press a brief, firm kiss on his suspicious mouth. “Of course, if I had I wouldn't have the satisfaction of seeing you goggle like a trout on the line right now. I'm going up and make Kate go to bed so she can pretend not to know Nathan's going to sleep in my room tonight.”

“Jo Ellen.” Brian found his voice by the time she reached the door, then lost it again when she looked back at him.

“Go ahead.” She smiled broadly. “Just say it. It's so much easier than you think.”

“I love you too.”

“I know. You've got the best heart of all of us, Bri. That's what worries you.” She closed the door quietly, then went upstairs to the rest of her family.

 

 

SHE dreamed of walking through the gardens of Sanctuary. The high summer smells, the high summer air. Overhead the moon was as full and clear as a child's cutout. White on black. Stars were a streaming sea of light.

Monkshood and Canterbury bells nodded gently in the breeze, their blossoms glowing white. Oh, how she loved the pure-white blooms, the way they shone in the dark. Fairy flowers, she thought, that danced while mortals slept.

She felt immortal herself—so strong, so vivid. Raising her arms high, she wondered she didn't simply lift off the ground and soar. The night was her time as well. Her alone time. She could drift along the garden paths like a ghost, and the ring of the wind chimes was music to dance by.

Then a shadow stepped out of the trees. And the shadow became a man. Immortal, only curious, she walked toward him.

Now running, running through the forest in the blinding dark, with rain lashing viciously at her face. The night was different now, she was different now. Afraid, pursued. Hunted. The wind was a thousand howling wolves with fangs bared and bloody, the raindrops tiny bright-edged spears aimed to tear the flesh. Limbs whipped at her mercilessly. Trees sprang up to block her path.

She was pathetically mortal now, terrifyingly mortal. Her breath caught on a little sob as she heard her hunter call her name. But the name was Annabelle.

Jo ripped away the sheets that tangled around her legs and bolted upright. Even as the vision cleared away, Nathan laid a hand on her shoulder. He wasn't lying beside her, but standing, and his face was masked in the dark.

“You're all right. Just a dream. A bad one.”

Not trusting her voice, she nodded. The hand on her shoulder rubbed it once, absently, then dropped away. The gesture was a distant comfort.

“Do you want something?”

“No.” The fear was already fading. “It's nothing. I'm used to it.”

“It'd be a wonder if you didn't have nightmares after today.” He moved away from her, walked to the window, turned his back.

She could see he'd pulled on his jeans, and when she ran her head over the sheets beside her, she found they were cool. He hadn't been sleeping beside her. Hadn't wanted to, Jo realized. He'd only stayed over at Sanctuary because Kate had made it impossible to refuse. And he was only sharing the bed here because it would have been awkward otherwise.

But he hadn't touched her, hadn't turned to her.

“You haven't slept, have you?”

“No.” He wasn't sure he would ever close his eyes peacefully again.

Jo glanced at the clock. 3:05. She'd experienced her share of restless three A.M.s. “Maybe you should take a sleeping pill.”

“No.”

“I know this was hell for you, Nathan. There's nothing anyone can say or do to make it better.”

“Nothing's ever going to make it better for Tom Peters.”

“He might have killed her.”

Nathan hoped it was true—with all his heart he hoped it. And felt filthy for it.

“They argued,” Jo said stubbornly. “She walked out on him. He could have followed her down to the cove. They kept arguing and he snapped. It would only take a minute, a minute of rage. Then he panicked and carried her away. He'd have wanted the distance, so he put her in the river.”

“People don't always kill in rage or panic,” he said softly. Bitterness rose into his throat, threatening to choke him. “I have no business being in this house. Being with you. What was I thinking of? Going back. To fix what? What the hell did I think I could do?”

“What are you talking about?” She hated the quaver in her voice. But the sound of his, so hard and cold, chilled her.

He turned back to stare at her. She sat in the big, feminine bed, her knees drawn up defensively, her face a pale shadow. He'd made mistakes all along, he realized. Selfish and stupid mistakes. But the biggest had been to fall in love with her, and to nudge her into love with him. She would hate him before it was done. She would have to.

“Not now. We've both had enough for now.” Walking toward her, he thought, was as hard as it would be to walk away. He sat on the side of the bed, ran his hands down her arms. “You need to sleep.”

“So do you. Nathan, we're alive.” She took his hand, pressed it to her heart. “Getting through and going on—that's important. It's a lesson I learned the hard way.” Leaning forward, she touched her lips to his. “Right now, let's just help each other get through the night.” Her eyes were dark and stayed on his as she tilted her head to warm the kiss. “Make love with me. I need to hold you.”

He let her draw him down, let himself sink. She would hate him before it was done, but for now love would be enough.

 

 

IN the morning he was gone, from her bed, from Sanctuary, and from Desire.

 

 

“HE left on the morning ferry?” Jo stared at Brian, wondering how he could fry eggs when the world had just turned upside down again.

“I passed him at dawn, heading back to his cottage.” Brian checked his order sheet and spooned up grits. Crises came and went, he thought, but people always managed to eat. “He said he had some business to take care of on the mainland. He'd be a couple of days.”

“A couple of days. I see.” No good-bye, no see you around. No anything.

“He looked pretty ragged around the edges. And so do you.”

“It hasn't been an easy twenty-four hours for anyone.”

“No, but I've still got an inn to run. If you want to be useful, you could sweep off the terraces and patios, see that the cushions are put back out.”

“Life goes on, right?”

“There's nothing we can do about that.” He scooped the eggs up neatly, the glimmering yolks trembling. “You just do what has to be done next.”

He watched her drag the broom out of the closet and head outside. And he wondered just what in the hell he was supposed to do next.

“I'm surprised people can eat, the way their mouths are running.” Lexy breezed in, exchanged an empty coffeepot for a full one, then slapped down new orders. “One more person asks me about that poor woman, I'm going to scream.”

“There's bound to be talk, there's bound to be questions.”

“You don't have to listen to them.” She gave herself a break, resting a hip against the counter. “I don't think I got more than ten minutes' sleep all night. I don't guess any of us did. Is Jo up yet?”

“She's out clearing off the terraces.”

“Good. Keep her busy. Best thing for her.” She huffed out a breath when Brian sent her a speculative look. “I'm not brainless, Bri. This has to be harder on her than the rest of us. Harder yet, after what she's already been through. Anything that keeps her mind off it for a five-minute stretch is a blessing.”

“I never thought you were brainless, Lex. No matter how hard you pretend to be.”

“I'm not going to worry about your insults this morning, Brian. But I am worried about Jo.” She turned to peek out the window and was satisfied to see her sister sweeping violently. “Good manual labor should help. And thank God for Nathan. He's just exactly what she needs right now.”

“He's not here.”

She spun back around so fast that the coffee sloshed to the rim of the pot. “What do you mean he's not here?”

“He went over to the mainland for a few days.”

“Well, what in blue hell for? He should be right here, with Jo Ellen.”

“He had some business to see to.”

“Business?” Lexy rolled her eyes and grabbed the tray of new orders. “Why, isn't that just like a man, just exactly like one? All of you, useless as a three-titted bull, every last one of you.”

She stormed out, hips twitching. And for some reason Brian found himself in a much lighter mood. Women, he thought. Can't live with them, can't dump them off a cliff.

 

 

AN hour later Lexy marched outside. She found Jo opening the last of the patio table umbrellas. “Everything's nice and tidy here, I see. Fine and dandy. Go on up and get a bathing suit. We're going to the beach.”

“What for?”

“Because it's there. Go on and change. I've got sunscreen and towels here already.”

“I don't want to sit on the beach.”

“I don't think I asked what you wanted to do. You need some sun. And if you don't come along with me for an hour, Brian or Kate will find something else for you to sweep up or scrub.”

Jo looked at the broom with distaste. “There is that. All right. Why not? It's hot. I could use a swim.”

“Get a move on, then, before somebody catches us and puts us to work.”

 

 

JO cut through the breakers, took the roll, then began to swim with the current. She'd forgotten how much she loved being in the ocean—fighting against it, drifting with it. She could hear a girlish squeal in the distance as a couple laughed and wrestled in the surf. Farther out, a young boy, brown as a berry, struggled to catch a wave and ride his inflatable raft back to shore.

When her arms tired, she flipped onto her back. The sun burned down through hazy skies and stung her eyes. It was easy to close them, to float. When her mind drifted to Nathan, she cut it off.