The Night Is Alive (32 page)
She glanced at the new email, anyway—and gave a little cry of delight. The others went silent.
She smiled. “Sorry. I just got a note from a friend of mine on the city council. She had her assistant go into the records after I wrote to her, and they’re going to see that the gravestone in Colonial Park Cemetery is repaired. The proper information will be carved on it. The name had been damaged when the stone was vandalized by soldiers when Savannah surrendered to General Sherman.”
“That’s great,” Jackson said, a knowing smile on his lips. He looked at Malachi. “Perhaps the two of you would like to go make that statement at the cemetery?”
“Sounds good. Let’s take a walk,” Malachi told Abby.
“One minute. I want to print out this email to bring to Josiah’s folks,” she said, hurrying off to do that.
She and Malachi left the group with the Krewe planning their last evening in Savannah; they’d have a barbecue at the house on Chippewa Square. Will said he thought it was fine for Kat to shop for the barbecue, but someone else might want to do the cooking. Kat was indignant, and Angela did her best to mollify them both; while Jackson watched with amusement.
Abby and Malachi walked the few blocks to the cemetery. It was late afternoon, just as it had been when they’d gone into the tunnels the day before.
It was a beautiful time of day. The live oaks dripped moss that stirred and moved in the breeze.
Abby was grateful to be alive.
On the one hand, she could still shudder, remembering the fear she’d felt when she realized she’d been taken. But fear wasn’t entirely a bad thing. Jackson wanted them to feel fear—not debilitating fear, but the kind that made them careful and smart. They had managed well, especially since they’d never clearly identified a suspect. They’d had to use what they knew about both the living and the dead to see the situation through to its conclusion. They’d successfully played into the fantasy of a man who’d become a homicidal psychopath. Abby was glad the rest of the Krewe seemed proud of her and Malachi. The Krewe had come to Savannah because Jackson Crow had recognized something in her plea to him. He’d found Malachi and, together, they’d found her. She knew the right future stretched before her now.
“There they are,” Malachi whispered as they entered the cemetery. Josiah’s parents were sitting on their customary bench, as if they mourned someone only recently gone. Perhaps, to them, the sorrow was as deep as if it had occurred yesterday.
Abby walked over to them, her printed email in hand. “Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Beckwith,” she greeted them.
Edgar Beckwith immediately stood, bowing to her. Elizabeth rose by her husband’s side, clutching his arm and looking expectantly at Abby.
“Anything?” Edgar asked.
“Abby will read it to you. This message is from someone with the power to help,” Malachi said.
Abby smiled and read the email out loud. She saw that Edgar and Elizabeth Beckwith smiled, too, as they heard the news. Elizabeth stepped forward to touch Abby’s face with a gentle hand. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
“There will be a little ceremony when the work is completed,” Abby told them. “We’ll be here for it.”
They bade Edgar and Elizabeth Beckwith goodbye, leaving the couple to stand by the grave, expressions of happiness and relief on their faces.
“That felt wonderful,” Abby told Malachi.
“Yes,” he agreed. And it had. But one thing still troubled her, and Malachi seemed to sense that.
“What?” he asked her softly.
She drew in a deep breath. “We’ve pulled a few good endings out of this, but...how did Bootsie kill Gus? The autopsy showed that Gus died of a heart attack.”
“I wish I could give you a definitive answer. I can’t. But here’s what my instinct tells me. Gus was a fine man, the kind of man who cared about others. I believe he was searching the tunnel, that he suspected something,” Malachi said. “When he stumbled on Bootsie, his heart probably gave out when Bootsie attacked him. Gus died trying to save others, Abby.”
Abby nodded. She knew it would be years before everything Bootsie had done was uncovered. And it was shattering to think that he’d been killing people and coming to the Dragonslayer, becoming more and more convinced that he was the living embodiment of various pirates—including Blue Anderson. Maybe he’d tried out different roles at different times. Blackbeard, Christopher Condent. Henry Morgan. But above all, he’d wanted to be Blue.
And she’d kissed his cheek, cared about him, thought of him as Gus’s dear old curmudgeonly friend...
He had come to Gus’s funeral. Made himself at home in the bar afterward, just waiting to seize another woman.
She shuddered. It was still too hard to believe.
“One more question,” she said. “Everyone was certain we should be searching for Bianca on a boat or a ship. How did you figure out that he was hiding her in the boathouse?”
Malachi turned to her. He smiled and told her, “Blue. The
real
Blue Anderson.”
Epilogue
T
hey’d needed a change of scenery. And Jackson had given them two weeks. Actually, he’d given
Abby
two weeks; she was already official. When the two weeks were up, Malachi would have to go through classes at the academy. That was just the way it was. Unless he preferred to stay a consultant, which had its up and downs. But Abby wanted him to be a full part of the Krewe, and he knew Jackson thought that was best, too. So what the hell? He’d go through the academy.
But before that, they had two weeks.
So Malachi and Abby had packed up and come to his home southwest of Richmond and, as he’d hoped, she loved the house and its surroundings. The area was remote, but she didn’t mind. She appreciated the country around them, the richness of the trees and the beauty of the crystal rivers and streams. They spent their time hiking, playing in the lake down the hill from his property and exploring Virginia. They went to a Civil War reenactment and to Richmond to visit some of the sights, and they traveled down to Colonial Williamsburg and took a day to do something that was sheer fun—Busch Gardens.
Abby was a glutton for roller coasters.
Mostly, they slept in mornings. They watched DVDs and listened to music. They indulged in each other and wondered if they’d always feel the need to be so close and so intimate. He talked about his marriage, and she told him about her few relationships, and they’d sympathized over their past experiences.
Their time was drawing to a close late one night—or early one morning—when he woke to find that she wasn’t at his side. Rising, he slipped into a robe and walked out to the hall. “Abby?”
She didn’t answer, so he went down the stairs. And then he saw her. She was seated by the fire and she was deep in conversation. That was why she hadn’t heard him.
Zachary was there, looking extremely pleased. Malachi hadn’t seen him since he’d come to the house with Abby. Knowing Zachary, he’d been making his own judgments before presenting himself.
Abby glanced up and saw him. She smiled. “Zachary and I have met. We’ve been talking.”
Zachary stood. “She’s delightful!” he said, gesturing at Abby.
Malachi walked over to Abby, who rose. He slid an arm around her. “Delightful? Well, she’s a crack shot, no-nonsense, a brilliant agent—and she can play a great wench. I think I’ll keep her.”
“You will, of course, be a perfect gentleman,” Zachary said in a stern voice.
“I can try, of course. And will,” Malachi added hastily. “But she’s stubborn, and she has her own mind.”
“I like that in a woman. My dear Genevieve was always ready to share her opinion. We lived in difficult times and she was ready to rise to any occasion. In fact...”
“In fact?”
“If you can make this work, I could perhaps move on,” Zachary said. “And join my dear Genevieve.”
“Abby, he wants me to ask if you’ll marry me.” Smiling, Malachi looked at her.
Abby laughed. “We have, indeed, discussed that possibility, Zachary. We think marriage might be right for us in the near future. I’m not a big fan of diamonds, but we
have
talked about a lovely ring with an emerald—one that belonged to Malachi’s mother. It happens to be my birthstone. So, for the moment, we’ll move forward, learning about our future, using what talents we have to help others. And when the time is right, there will be a lovely wedding. We’ll have it in Savannah. I think Blue needs to give me away. It’ll be interesting to see that with a crowd observing, but I’ll know he’s by my side and that’s the important thing. So, Zachary, you’ll have to come to Savannah.”
“Savannah! A beautiful city. I— Yes, I will manage to do that, and then, perhaps...” His voice trailed off. “I believe I’ve waited these many years, trusting that someone like Malachi would come along, and now...knowing that what we’ve had as a family will go on.”
Malachi wasn’t sure how Abby did it; she stood on tiptoe at just the right height and moved just the right amount of distance. It appeared she placed a perfect kiss on Zachary’s cheek.
“The children are going to be beautiful!” Zachary said happily.
“But no rushing us now!” Abby insisted.
“I promise,” Zachary assured her. He turned to Malachi. “I must go tell Genevieve!” he said, and headed toward the family cemetery in back.
Abby looked at Malachi with amusement. “I think he approved of me. It took him long enough to decide.”
“Zachary? Ah, yes, he can be difficult to impress, but he does seem bewitched,” Malachi said. “With you.”
“Well, I’m grateful he does approve.”
He lifted her chin and kissed her lips. “What matters more is that you approve of me,” he told her.
She clasped his hand. “I’m wide-awake. If you want to follow me upstairs, I can tell you all about my approval. Or, rather, I can show you.” She grew serious. “These moments, this time...all precious, I think.”
“Very precious. We have to value such precious moments,” he said. “They define our lives.” He kissed her again and they started up the stairs.
“Think they’re going to like each other?” Abby asked.
“Zachary and Blue?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sure they will. They’ll be like two wonderful old grandpas, shedding a few tears as we say our vows,” Malachi said. They’d reached the door to his room. “For now, however, back to showing me that approval...”
She released his hand and walked into the room. He paused and watched her for a moment.
“What?” she asked, turning back.
“Nothing. I’m just grateful that you’re here, that you walked into my room.”
She laughed softly, a sound that seemed to make the world right. “And I’m just grateful that you walked into my life.”
* * * * *
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin ebook. Connect with us for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Subscribe to our newsletter:
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Visit
Harlequin.com
We like you—why not like us on Facebook:
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Follow us on Twitter:
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
Read our blog for all the latest news on our authors and books:
HarlequinBlog.com
ISBN: 9781460316399
Copyright © 2013 by Heather Graham Pozzessere
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.