To the Grave (39 page)

Weak laughter rippled through the crowd. People glanced at Patrice's crotch, then quickly looked away, many of them blushing. Patrice drew herself even taller, as if she was daring anyone to think she was embarrassed, humiliated, shocked. But she is, Catherine thought in sympathy. She is.

“I'm not done yet!” Lawrence nearly shouted as some people began to move around again. Or escape, Catherine thought. “I also want to take this opportunity to announce that my son, Ian, is an official member of Blakethorne Charter. He will be my second-in-command—my co-pilot.” Lawrence laughed uproariously. “And for his invaluable service, which has yet to begin, but I'm sure will soon, I would like to present him with a gift. Now, I've always been just a simple man with a middling education and a big idea. My son is different, though. He has big ideas, but he's not a simple man with a middling education. He's a
gentleman,
folks, a real gentleman who knows all about gourmet foods, and literature, and especially
art.
This young fella is an art aficionado. And that's why when he told me about a painting he loved, I decided to buy it. Ian, although I'll keep it safe for you in this house, any time you like you'll be able to look at Nicolai Arcos's
Mardi Gras Lady
!”

2

“You're
so
lucky you missed all the wedding events,” Catherine said to James as she sat close beside him on the hospital bed. “Are you sure you didn't arrange to get shot?”

James laughed. “It sounds to me like I missed a fairly good time.”

“Maybe it sounds good when I'm telling you about it. Being in the middle of it was simply bizarre. I won't be the same for at least a month.”

“Well, you came through it beautifully.”

“I don't feel beautiful.” Catherine leaned over and carefully hugged James. “I've missed you so much. I feel like you've been in here for a week.”

“I feel like I've been in here for at least two. But tomorrow, I make my breakout.”

“Yes, but you won't be going back to normal activities. I know you're a workaholic, James, but you won't be going into the office for a week.”

“A week! That's ridiculous.”

“Your father's orders. And Patrice's.”

“What am I supposed to do for a whole week?”

“I could bring you to work with me.”

“I thought your sessions with your patients were confidential.”

“They are. You could sit in the lobby and talk to Beth. Oh, did I tell you Beth sang at the wedding?”

“Twice.”

“I didn't know she had such a beautiful voice.”

“If I come to work with you, she can sing to me all day.” James rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “Honey, I hate to break the happy mood, but something's been troubling me. I've always loved your patience, your optimism. Now I'm worried about what this last week has done to your view of the
true
world.”

Catherine looked deep into James's dark brown eyes. “You sound as if this last week represents the
true
world. It doesn't. Not entirely. This week has been a nightmare, but we've been through a nightmare before, and you were in one before I came back to Aurora Falls. The nightmares weren't endless, though. You, we, came out of them. And compared to the rest of our lives, those terrible times have been brief—horrifying, but brief. You have to look at life as a whole, James, not just at the dark side. There
is
a bright side, a radiant side, and naïve as I might sound, I believe there is far more radiance than darkness if you only look for it.”

“Your optimism is still intact,” James said seriously.

“Yes, it is. But I've realized we've never talked as much about deeply personal things as we should have. Frankly, I think since we started seeing each other, we were both thinking of what happened between you and Renée. I understood why you didn't want to talk about her. The two of you didn't just have a bad marriage. You had a disastrous marriage ending with her disappearing and you being suspected of having murdered her. You underwent a police investigation, for God's sake. Who wouldn't have been traumatized? But, my darling, that's over.”

“Is it? Renée
was
murdered and maybe you're the only person in town who doesn't believe I did it.”

“I am
not
the only person who doesn't believe you did it! Don't even say such a thing.”

“Then who did? And what about Arcos, Nordine, the attempt on my life?”

Catherine bent her head, pressing together her lips, and wondering if now was the time to tell him all she knew. After all, he would be out of the hospital tomorrow. Now, he might only lie awake all night and think about what she'd said.

“You're keeping something from me, Catherine. We're not going to do that anymore. No more silence because we think what we say might hurt the other. That's what has been keeping up apart, and I don't want us to be apart anymore. I want us to be together—mind, body, and soul. So tell me what's on your mind.”

Had he actually said he wanted them to be together mind, body, and soul? Catherine could hardly believe it. She'd loved him dearly for years, but there had always been a barrier between them, even the last few months when there had really been nothing to keep them apart—nothing except their own silence. If she gave up this chance to truly reach James by withholding information because she thought it might upset him, she might never get another chance to reach him, she thought.

“It happened at the wedding reception,” she began slowly. “I saw a man. He was leaning against a window and had been looking at the falls, but suddenly he turned and looked at me. Then he just stared at me.” James remained silent. “He was about sixty, I'd guess, and very tall and slim. He had heavy black hair with just a sprinkling of silver. But it was his eyes that caught me. They were dark, sunk in hollows with deep lines. At first I didn't understand why he kept staring at me, even when he knew I was staring back. Then I got a feeling that there was something familiar about him. I was sort of overwhelmed with thoughts of the wedding and the humidity and … and a beautiful bride with dark eyes looking at me almost as if she were laughing at me.” She paused. “James, I think the man was Gaston Moreau.”

After a moment of silence, James asked, “Did you get a good enough look at him to make a fairly certain guess? You've only seen Gaston once.”

“Once, yes, and it was a bad day for me. I was so unhappy about your marriage and most of my attention was on Renée, but I remember Gaston as an unusual-looking man. Not handsome, but striking—not the kind of man you forget seeing.”

“Did he act like he wanted to talk to you?”

“No. He didn't motion for me to come to him or look as if he were going to walk toward me. He just stared with an almost scornful expression. Well, maybe it wasn't scornful, but it wasn't friendly or even … nice. I felt more as if he were sizing me up.”

“Sizing you up? For what?”

“I don't know. That's what scared me so much that I went tearing off, looking for Eric. James, you've been trying to talk to the man for a week to tell him that his daughter has been murdered. His wife always says he's out of town, she won't have him bothered; I don't know what all she's said. You told me she hates Renée. I can't guess how Gaston feels about her now, but he has to feel something. You sent him registered mail about the divorce and received acknowledgment of its delivery with his signature, so he had to know the marriage was over. And if he's here—which I'm certain he is—he has to know she's dead. Murdered.”

James's gaze drifted out the window into the early night. The muscles around his eyes and his mouth tightened. He squeezed her hand so tightly, she almost shook it loose, but she knew James needed her right now, maybe more than he ever had. She was determined not to show the slightest sign of weakness.

“Does Eric still have a deputy following you all the time?”

“Yes. Tom right now. He's very diligent, James. He's standing outside the door. He'll follow me home and sit outside the house until Jeff relieves him around three in the morning.”

“Good. I don't want you to be alone, Catherine, not for a minute.”

“I won't be.”

“You'll go straight home after you leave the hospital, you'll lock all your doors and windows, and you'll stay inside. Don't go to work tomorrow.”

“Well, I have to go to work. Dr. Hite won't be back to Aurora Falls until midweek and there's no time to cancel my appointments. But I won't be alone. Beth and Jeff will be there. Besides, I'm only keeping morning hours. I'm picking you up here at noon when you're released and we'll be together for the rest of the day.”

“But you won't come here without surveillance. You promise me.”

“I promise,” Catherine said solemnly. “James, are you afraid of Gaston Moreau?”

“I'm afraid of what he's capable of. I used to just think he was odd. When I first married Renée, he gave me a bad feeling. And finally, she told me what he'd done to her for years. I never saw him after that, but I know he's a monster.” He paused, looking intensely into her eyes again. “Catherine, I know in my gut that if Gaston Moreau is in Aurora Falls, it isn't just to claim the body of his daughter.”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

1

Catherine awakened with a dull headache and a sense of dread. The headache she understood—the recent events would give anyone a headache. The dread was a mystery. James would be released today and she'd planned a simple but intimate dinner and relaxing evening for them.

She ate a quick breakfast of toast, downed a mug of coffee, and looked out the front window to see Deputy Jeff Beal sitting in a patrol car. He saw her in the window and waved before Catherine went into the garage for her car. Marissa's was already gone, of course, and Catherine knew she was either tracking down a hot lead or looking for one.

To Catherine's disappointment, the day lay low and gray, as if the sky were pressing downward, closing in for winter. She had hoped for a beautiful mild, sunny day like yesterday. What a shame that day had been wasted on the brunch, she thought, when this was the day she would be bringing James out of the hospital and back into the world.

They pulled into the parking lot of the Aurora Falls Center, Jeff parking a few spaces toward the back and away from Catherine. She assumed Eric had given them instructions to not park at the front of the center or the parking lot because that might give patients a sense that something was wrong. Dr. Hite usually didn't arrive before 9:30, but Beth's small car was already parked at the very back of the lot. While Jeff sat in his patrol car, calling in to report that he was “on scene,” Catherine looked at Beth's car, which bore dents, some rust, nearly bare tires, and about twelve years of bad care.

“All checked in,” Jeff said brightly, jolting her from her study of the car. Either Tom or Jeff had entered the center with Catherine and looked around, said hello to Beth, then had a cup of coffee before they returned to a long day in their patrol car. “You okay there, Dr. Gray?”

“If you don't stop calling me Dr. Gray, I'm going to break the light on top of your car.”

“Oh. Would that be a
no
?”

“That would be a
please
call me Catherine. After all, I call you Jeff. And if I seem a little draggy, it's because of the absolute blast I had this weekend.”

Jeff started laughing. “Yeah, Tom told me about it. Actually, he said he'd been dreading the assignment—he's not big on weddings and social stuff—but it turned out sort of hilarious.”

“I'm glad he had a good time,” Catherine said, half seriously, half-laughing. “But I hope to go at least a year—make that ten—without another three-day gala like that one.” They climbed the porch steps and she put her key in the door, which Beth kept locked until opening time at nine o'clock.

Catherine swung open the front door, looking back at Jeff. She took several steps into the waiting room, Jeff close behind, and closed the door. She was still saying something about the wedding to him when she noticed the smell of good coffee didn't fill the waiting room and Beth wasn't sitting behind her desk.

Then from beside a tall bookshelf near the door stepped Ian Blakethorne. His face was smooth, handsome, untroubled, and before she realized what was happening he stuck a needle in Jeff's neck and pushed the plunger.

2

While Catherine stood frozen in shock, Jeff reeled slightly and reached for his gun. Ian's hand swept at Jeff's with more strength than Catherine could have imagined. Jeff stumbled and once again reached for the gun. This time Ian's leg shot out, his ankle crossing Jeff's and jerking the policeman to the floor. Jeff writhed, still fumbling for his gun, but this time Ian reached down, took the gun, and kicked Jeff in the abdomen. Jeff grunted and curled into a ball, his eyes closed, his legs making rhythmic jerking movements that grew slower and slower.

“My God!” Catherine at last found her voice. “You didn't inject him with animal tranquilizer!”

“I used something almost as good,” Ian said offhandedly.

“Where's Beth? What have you done with Beth?”

“I got here a little before Beth did. I was waiting for her—grabbed her on the porch. I'm afraid she's already asleep.”

“
Asleep
or dead?”

“I'll keep you in suspense.”

Catherine felt reality slip away from her for a moment. She thought she might faint. Then she saw Jeff twitch again. The dulled light from the front windows managed to pierce the fading light behind her eyes. She took a deep breath, waiting for Ian to come at her with the hypodermic needle, knowing she had no strength to fight him. Instead, they both stood still, him looking at her acutely, her looking at him with dim horror.