“I’m sure you will, too, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to leave you alone.”

  “I don’t need a bodyguard, Dinah.”

  “Actually, maybe you do.” She slung her bag over her shoulder. “Shall we get out of here?”

  He nodded. He’d make another effort later, once Dinah saw that he could take care of himself and Court.

  He took a step, winced, and threw his arm over Court’s shoulder. “I guess I could use a little help.”

  They emerged into the waiting room. Dinah, who was just ahead of him, stiffened suddenly, as if presented with an unwelcome sight.

  He moved past her and saw that he was right. Lieutenant Draydon leaned across the registration desk, apparently arguing with the clerk. At the sight of them the quarrel stopped.

  “Mr. Devlin.” He approached, giving him the once-over. “Looks like you’re not hurt too badly.”

  “I’m all right.” He clipped the words off. It wasn’t any of Draydon’s business, and how on earth had he found out about the incident so fast, anyway? “You’ll excuse me. We were just leaving.”

  Draydon planted himself in his path. “I have a few questions about this accident of yours.”

  He gritted his teeth. Probably the fastest way to get rid of the man was to give him the bare facts. “It was just that—an accident. The cellar steps gave way, and I fell.”

  “Nobody else in the house at the time?”

  “My son. And Ms. Westlake. Why does a household accident interest the police?”

  He stepped around Draydon and moved toward the exit. He shouldn’t have asked that question. It was one he didn’t want answered in front of Court.

  “Funny, that is. How problems seem to be dogging you since you came back to Charleston,” Draydon drawled. “I’d just like to know why. Call it professional curiosity. I’m sure Ms. Westlake understands.”

  Dinah whirled, the fury on her face startling. “No, I don’t understand. Mr. Devlin is in pain. He needs to go home, not stand here answering questions.”

  “Now, Ms. Westlake—”

  “No!” Her voice cracked like a whip. “If you want to investigate something, why don’t you investigate why that step broke?”

  Her words seemed to hang in the air for a long moment. Then Lieutenant Draydon leaned toward her, his whole face sharpening with interest. “Now, what makes you say that, I wonder?”

  Marc grasped Dinah’s arm, but he suspected she didn’t need the hint to say no more. “That’s all,” he said shortly. “We’re done here.”

  Ignoring Draydon, he hustled Court and Dinah out into the parking lot. They were twenty feet from the door before he realized he didn’t know where the car was.

  He stopped. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to give you the bum’s rush.”

  “You did the right thing.” Dinah’s voice shook. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I just—”

  “I understand.” He did. He understood that she cared for him, and that caring was leading her into a difficult, maybe a dangerous place. “I appreciate you defending me.”

  “I didn’t do a very good job of it.” She looked up at him, trying to smile, but her lips trembled.

  Court had walked on toward the car, and for a moment they stood alone in the darkened parking lot, the faint glow from one of the overhead lights touching the upturned oval of Dinah’s face.

  His heart clutched. She was inexpressibly dear to him. He could never tell her that. He couldn’t ask her to share the suspicion that was directed at him. And even if that were resolved, Annabel’s memory would always stand between them.

  He needed to lay the past to rest and push on into the future. But Dinah could never face it, so she could never let it go.

  Dinah walked slowly down the staircase, running her hand along the rail. She no longer panicked on the stairs, but holding on seemed a wise precaution.

  Court was asleep in his bed, oblivious to the concerns that plagued the adults in his life. His dad was safe and at home. That was all it took to give him uninterrupted slumber.

  She couldn’t hope for the same. In fact, she’d probably settle with a book on the sofa in the family room and stay awake for the duration. She’d be of small use to Marc if he needed her and she was asleep.

  Besides, any sleep she had in this house was bound to be tortured by the dream again. A chill touched her, and she went quickly down the rest of the stairs.

  “Marc?” He was supposed to be resting, but somehow she doubted it. She glanced in the family room. Empty.

  “Marc?” She called again, softly. Waking Court wouldn’t make this night any easier, and she had no desire to launch into reassuring him again.

  Or reassuring Aunt Kate, for that matter. It had been all she could do to keep her elderly great-aunt from coming to the hospital to see for herself that everyone was all right. She’d developed a fierce, protective love for Court in the short time she’d known him.

  Dinah started back down the hall to the kitchen. Maybe Marc had decided to get something to eat. She could fix him a sandwich—

  She stopped, aghast. The cellar door stood open, and Marc’s legs extended into the hallway.

  She reached the door in a second, terrified at what she might find. “Marc!” She clutched at his legs.

  He turned an annoyed face to her. “What are you doing?”

  “What are you doing?” Relief and anger sharpened her tone. “You’re supposed to be resting. I thought you’d collapsed.”

  “Sorry.” He shook his head and winced at the movement. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just following your lead.”

  “My lead?”

  “You’re the one who told Draydon he should be looking into why the stairs collapsed.”

  “That doesn’t mean I think you should be disobeying doctor’s orders. Please go and rest.”

  She sat on the floor next to him, trying to peer over his shoulder. With the errant fuse replaced, she had a good view of the jagged timbers and the concrete floor. A shudder went through her. The image of Marc lying there would be fodder for a few more nightmares.

  Marc played the flashlight he held over what remained of the top steps. Obviously he didn’t intend to come out until he’d finished what he was doing.

  She didn’t want to know, but she had to. “Well? How does it look?”

  He slid back into the hall next to her, raising himself to a sitting position. She could see by his expression it wasn’t good news.

  “The stairway was pretty rickety to begin with, braced by a couple of upright supports. It looks to me as if someone sawed almost all the way through the uprights. The first time anyone put any weight on the tread, he could bet the whole thing would come down. And he could have tampered with the fuse box at the same time.”

  Her mind raced, trying to imagine it. “But how could anyone get into the cellar? How could they have done that without being heard?”

  Marc shrugged, his face hard. “I locked the door into the cellar, but not the bulkhead doors. I figured the only danger was someone getting into the house itself. My mistake.”

  “You’d have heard him, surely.” His expression had begun to frighten her. Not for herself—for that unknown someone. “Even if he did it in the middle of the night, I’d think you’d hear something.”

  “We’ve been out a lot. There were plenty of times when the house was empty and someone could get in. And with it getting dark as early as it does, why would he bother coming in the middle of the night?”

  She digested that. “You think you know, don’t you?”

  He shook his head. “Somebody comes to mind. It’s the sort of thing Carr might do, don’t you think?”

  “But he’s—”

  “Dead. I know. But this could have been done at any time. That’s the beauty of it. Someone could do it and then just wait for me to have a reason to go down the cellar. No need to be anywhere near here when I fell.”

  “It might not have been you.” A shiver went through her. “It could have been Court. Or me.”

  Would she have gone down into the cellar, if she’d been alone with Court and the lights went out? Of course she would have. Carr, if it had been he, hadn’t seemed to care much who he hurt. But there was another possibility.

  The secret Aunt Kate had confided hung heavy on her soul. She’d made the decision to tell him before the accident, but that had intervened. Now, she wasn’t so sure. It might have had nothing to do with Annabel’s death, and it would hurt Marc so much. And if Draydon found out, he’d think it gave Marc the perfect motive for murder.

  “If he wanted me to leave Charleston, it probably didn’t really matter to him who got hurt.” His face was so tight it looked like a mask, but a muscle twitched under the raw abrasion at his temple.

  She couldn’t give him something else to worry about, not tonight. Surely bad news could wait a little longer.

  She touched his arm, reassured at the feel of warm skin and hard muscle. “I know you don’t want to talk to Draydon, but you have to tell him this.”

  “I know. I will.” He closed his hand over hers for a moment. “But not tonight. Court needs time to get over his scare before we’re plunged into having police in the house. In the morning is time enough.”

  “I suppose.” But she certainly wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.

  Marc stood and held out his hand to her. She took it, and he helped her rise. Then he turned away to shut and bolt the cellar door. He spoke without looking at her.

  “I think it’s time for you to go home and get some sleep. We’ll be fine.” His tone was coolly dismissive, as if he talked to an employee.

  Anger flickered through her, warming her. “Nice try. I promised the doctor I’d stay, and I haven’t changed my mind.”

  “Dinah…”

  “No!” Aware she’d raised her voice, she glanced up the stairs, but there was no sound from Court. “I’m going to make myself a cup of tea, and then I’m going to curl up on the couch in the family room. Please go to bed. I’ll be checking on you through the night, just as the doctor ordered.”

  She waited for an argument. It didn’t come. Marc just stared at her for a long moment. Then he turned and went quietly up the stairs.

  She let out a shaky breath. It could have been worse, although what could be worse than having Marc look at her as if she were an irritating stranger?

  Please, Lord. I don’t know what to do about this. I’m afraid for Marc. I don’t know where to turn. Please, hold us in Your hands tonight.

  Somehow just the act of prayer calmed her fears. She went steadily across the hall to double-check the lock on the front door. Everything was safe.

  As it had been safe the night Annabel died? She couldn’t let herself think about that, or she’d never get through this night.

  She walked quickly past the side table. The jasmine had been replaced with a spray of greens and holly. It didn’t matter. It still reminded her of Annabel.

  Fourteen

  The night had been peaceful, but Dinah certainly didn’t look it. She frowned at her reflection in her bedroom mirror the next morning. She patted some concealer on the dark shadows under her eyes and dusted powder over it. That would have to do for the moment.

  She glanced at her daybook as she tucked it in her bag. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. She seemed to have lost a few days from this Advent season in the turmoil of the past few days.

  Well, Christmas would come whether she felt ready or not. It didn’t depend on how many gifts she had wrapped.

  Her cell phone rang, and she hurried to pick it up from the dresser, heart thumping. How long until she didn’t react to every unexpected sound?

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, girlfriend, saddle up. Teresa’s ready to talk to you.” Tracey didn’t bother to hide her exuberance.

  “Seriously?” That was unexpected.

  “You bet. How soon can you meet me there?”

  “Half an hour. Frankly, I’m surprised the captain was willing to let you use me, after everything that’s happened.”

  Tracey’s hesitation gave her away. “Let’s say that what the captain doesn’t know won’t hurt any of us.”

  “I don’t want you to risk your job for me.”

  Tracey chuckled. “Don’t worry. All I’m risking is a chewing out. And if we get anything, it’ll be worth it. See you there.”

  If they got anything. Dinah grabbed her bag and headed for the stairs.

  Please, Lord. Let us bring some closure to this situation, for Teresa’s sake, at least.

  Once she was in the car, fighting the morning traffic that was inevitable in a small city hemmed in by two rivers, she let herself think about Marc. He was meeting with Draydon this morning. She’d offered to be there and had been turned down so curtly that it was almost an insult.

  Her feelings didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Lieutenant Draydon see that someone was after Marc. That he take it seriously. Draydon might begin from the suspicion that Marc was guilty, but headquarters scuttlebutt said he was a fair man. That was the best they could hope for, wasn’t it?

  She pulled to the curb behind Tracey’s car, greeted her and went back up the narrow, dirty stairs, her heart beating faster now, her hands clammy. Would this be the day they got something?

  Once again the anxious-looking mother ushered them in, and once again Dinah took her seat at the table across from the girl, pad in her lap. Teresa wrapped her arms around her thin body, staring down at the plastic lace place mat in front of her.

  “I’m glad you wanted to talk to me again, Teresa.” She kept her voice low. “Can we talk about that day again?”

  Teresa shot her a dark, unreadable look. “Don’t you want to ask me what he looked like?”

  This was a little unusual for Teresa. Some witnesses jumped to that right away, but not the difficult ones. Not the ones she was called in on.

  “If you want to tell me.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve told you and told you. I’ve told everyone. I didn’t see him. Or if I did, I don’t remember.”

  But her voice, her manner, cried out to Dinah’s heart.

  Please, Father. Help me to help her.

  “Let’s just talk about that day, then. Talk about what you did see.”

  Back to the beginning. Talk about the day her friend died, lead her through all the small, mundane happenings of the day, the things that seemed ordinary at the time but now took on new meaning, viewed from the context of what they knew had happened that evening.

  Teresa began to relax—she could see it in the way her fingers unclenched. More detail crept into her narrative. Who had spoken to them at lunch, what they’d said, who’d already seen the movie they’d planned to attend.

  Almost without her recognizing it, Dinah’s pencil began to move. She held her breath, forcing herself not to stare down at the page. Sometimes it happened this way, as if God were letting her see through the words, see what the witness had seen, live it through her.

  Hard. It was hard. Her breath quickened when Teresa’s did. Her hands grew clammy, and her stomach lurched when the girls turned into the alley.

  A dark figure, a scuffle, a scream—her own scream, or was it Teresa’s? Fragments of details coming out almost without Teresa seeming to know it. A smell, the brush of fabric from a jacket, the sound of labored breathing. The knowing. Close your eyes, don’t look, you must never know—

  Dinah’s pencil raced, emotion flooding through her body, into her fingers. Choking her.

  Teresa stopped, as if a switch had been turned off. Her hands went to her mouth, her eyes glistening. “I can’t.” She started to push away from the table, ready to flee.

  “Not yet.” She didn’t take her gaze from the girl. “Tracey, will you get her mother, please?”

  Tracey moved. She heard the murmur of voices from the bedroom, their footsteps coming back. She held Teresa in place with sheer force of will.

  When they were all there, she spoke. “Teresa.” She lifted the drawing pad, heavy now with the weight of grief. “Is this the man?” She held it so the girl could see.

  Teresa stared, face horrified. She let out an anguished cry, echoed by her mother. “Yes. Yes.” She collapsed onto the table, sobs wrenching her body. Her mother gave a keening cry and held her.

  Tracey’s focus moved from the drawing to the school photos on the wall. “The brother?”

  Her throat was so choked she could barely get the words out. “Yes. She’ll tell you now. She’ll tell you.”

  She turned and fled from the room.

  Dinah could only thank God that she didn’t have to deal with the aftermath of their discovery, as Tracey did. She pulled the car into the garage and hurried through the back gate into the garden. The sky, dark and lowering, seemed to echo her feelings, looking at if it would burst into tears at any moment.

  Was I right to expose the truth, Father? She wrapped her jacket around her as she scurried toward the door. It’s going to bring so much grief for them. Maybe it would be better never to know.

  She didn’t know. All she knew was that she wanted to collapse into bed and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. That seemed very unlikely. Sleep, yes, but dreamless? She shivered as she pulled the door open. Dreams came with the territory for her.

  She hurried into the dim hallway and nearly ran into Marc. Her breath caught, and she tried to arrange her face into something that wouldn’t give away her feelings.

  “Marc. I didn’t realize you were here.”

  “Just checking on Court, but don’t tell him I said so. He’s in the kitchen with Alice and your aunt, helping them bake pies. Or getting in the way, I’m not sure which.”

  “They’re delighted to have him, I know.” She edged past him. If she could just reach the stairs without letting him get a good look at her face, she could escape.

  “Dinah?” He caught her arm. “What is it? You look as if you’ve been hit by a truck.”

  She tried to smile. “That’s an interesting comment coming from a man with your bruises.”

  His hand slid to her wrist, his fingers encircling it. Could he feel the way her pulse hammered? Probably.

 

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