Comes The Dark Part 21

With a sudden, astonishing clarity, she remembered the moment when she felt death in the hospital emergency room and Alva's voice telling her to hold on, to not give in. That had happened, hadn't it? It hadn't been an illusion created by the building pressure of hemorrhaging blood against her brain. How had she forgotten?

She tapped the mirrored gla.s.s with her fingernail. "Because, you idiot, you nearly died. A lot of things have slipped your mind."

Be strong, Maris. Always be strong.

Yes, she was remembering that, too-Alva's voice in life, instructing, molding, urging her to accept what she was and to do right by it.

Dan appeared in the mirror behind her. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. He kissed the side of her head, the scarred side, with tenderness. "Are you sure you're good?"

She reached up behind and stroked his jaw, resting her hand against his face after. "There may come a time when I will tell you to do something, and you must do it, without question. You will know the moment when it arrives."

His chest rose and fell against her spine with only a small hitch in his respiration. He pressed his mouth into the cup of her palm. "Okay."

Simple. Trusting. Her stomach plummeted.

When they arrived at the Timeless, there was a ten-minute wait for a table due to normal Sat.u.r.day morning business. Dan gave his name and then suggested a walk in the back garden. Maris readily agreed. She loved gardens. The act of gardening in her own small plot kept her sane and balanced. She noted with delight the plantings had been well thought out, sun-loving blossoms giving way to the hardier blooms of shorter days and cooler nights with no glaring break between. Delicate fragrance perfumed the air, unlike summer's heady scents.

"This place grows less familiar to me each time we come here. I expect it wouldn't have been the same even if your friends hadn't made so many changes. Twenty years is a long time."

She sat on a nearby bench. Instead of joining her, Dan continued down the crushed stone path, idly checking out the flora, hands folded behind his back. He paused beneath the spreading branches of a maple tree large enough to have been original to the yard she'd played in as a child. After a moment, he took a step back, looking from side to side and out toward the street beyond the white, wooden fence. Then his gaze returned to a study of the tree itself. He glanced at her over his shoulder.

Maris rose. "What is it?"

He strode back in her direction. "I think ten minutes is up. We should head back inside. We don't want to lose our table."

Oh, Dan, you're a horribly poor liar. Had he seen someone out in the street to cause alarm? But he didn't appear nervous or on the alert. Besides, wouldn't he have dealt with such a person immediately? Maris tucked her hand into his arm. "A penny for your thoughts."

"Really? Do people still say that?"

"I said it. I'm people."

"I have a lot on my mind, as you can imagine. But I want us to enjoy breakfast, so we won't talk about any of it."

Summarily dismissed, Maris nodded agreement. "Do you like flowers?"

"They're all right."

"Yeah, the yard in front of your townhouse is pretty bland."

"Well, maybe you can remedy-never mind."

Right. Not the time of year and not her job. Springtime was for planting, or bulbs after the first frost of autumn, but with the undefined nature of their relationship and everything hanging over their heads, she certainly wouldn't be around for either. Perhaps she could leave him detailed instructions and come back at some point to see how he'd gotten on. If, however, she ended up in jail...

"I can't be charged without real evidence, can I?"

"Circ.u.mstantial cases have been made and even successfully prosecuted-"

"Dan, that's not making me feel any better."

"Sorry."

She shook his arm and released it to follow the hostess's lead to a table. As Dan proceeded to the seat on the opposite side, his cell signaled the receipt of a text with a melodic three-note chime. He pulled the phone from his pocket, glanced at the screen, and tucked the instrument away.

Maris nodded toward his hip. "You can take care of that."

"We're eating. I'll deal with it later."

They were each handed a list of breakfast specials by the hostess before she made her way back to the register. Maris noted a disclaimer on the bottom of her menu. "So, they're only open for breakfast on Sat.u.r.days. Doesn't having the restaurant attached ruin the homey bed-and-breakfast feel?"

"There's a dining room for the Inn's guests inside."

He'd withdrawn. Maris began to suspect the recent text wasn't his first, and perhaps he'd received one in the garden she hadn't noticed. As if on cue, the cell rang in his pocket, m.u.f.fled by denim.

"d.a.m.n it. Maris, I'll be right back." Dan pushed away from the table and hurried out of the room. Maris held the menu sheet up as if reading but watched Dan through the wall of windows as he paced back and forth beyond the potted mums, the phone to his ear and his free hand clenched against his thigh.

"Are you ready to order or are you waiting for your husband?"

"He's not-I'm waiting, thank you. Could I have a cup of coffee, though?" The server nodded and went to get the pot. Maris turned the dainty mug upright on the saucer, then returned her gaze to Dan. Spinning on his heel, his eyes searched the glazed reflection in front of him as if he sought her out.

"Oh, s.h.i.t." Maris glanced quickly around to make sure her voice hadn't carried. When she looked back, Dan had hung up and was making his way at a swift pace toward the door. He arrived at the table together with the waitress, who poured the coffee into Maris's waiting cup.

"And you, sir?"

He nodded absently, taking his seat. Maris reached across and turned his cup over. "Dan?"

"It's all right. We'll eat, and then we have to go to the station."

Dan walked Maris down the hall to the interview room where Jamie stood outside the open door. He nodded at Dan and took Maris's arm, leading her inside. The door shut behind them.

The on-duty officers were out of the station, leaving it strangely quiet. He used to like those days, when activity ebbed and waned with the stretches of silence in between. There weren't many of them. Today, however, it made him feel alone.

Dan turned away from the door and headed to his office to await the outcome of this latest interview. Pa.s.sing Jamie's office door, he noticed a pile of photo alb.u.ms on the corner of the desk. Following a split second of indecision, he stepped inside and flipped the top one open. Yes, these had come from Alva Mabry's place. With a keen ear to noises in the corridor, Dan began to flip through them. Without Maris beside him to explain, he had no idea who any of these people were with the exception of the younger Alva, due to the remarkable similarity between the woman and her grandniece. Even though nothing he was doing could compromise Jamie's case, his heartbeat raced. He'd been pulled from the investigation. He had no business- "What the f.u.c.k?" Dan whispered.

With a quick check of the hallway, Dan returned to the alb.u.m and flipped back and forth between several pages. Various photos had been pulled, whether recently or over the years he couldn't tell. But the white squares on yellowed paper were obvious indication that a photo had once rested beneath the plastic. One or two more might not be missed. He couldn't point these out to Jamie until he'd asked some questions, but he didn't want his access to them cut off either. Dan slipped the photos into his breast pocket and restored the alb.u.ms to their place. The topmost slid off. He caught it on the way down before the photo book hit the floor, pages falling open to a series of children's images. A p.r.i.c.kling chill danced between his shoulder blades. He yanked out another photograph from one of these and put the alb.u.m back.

Out in the corridor, he heard the rattle of a doork.n.o.b. He s.n.a.t.c.hed a cup from the water cooler and placed it beneath the tap as an excuse for being outside Jamie's office. The interview room door opened. Maris stepped out, her countenance pale as paper. Quickly Dan filled the cup and held it out to her as she walked stiffly toward him.

"Thanks." Her hand shook as she took the cup.

"What's happened?"

Jamie exited the interview room. His eyes met Dan's in silence and held as he strode along the hall to his office. Without a word, he went inside and closed the door.

"They didn't get anything from either station. The video camera was broken at one, but the clerk didn't remember me there. He was shown a picture. He said Her, I would remember,' but he didn't. I turned out my purse on the table in front of Jamie, went through every sc.r.a.p of paper for the hundredth time. I even ripped the lining to look inside. The receipt's not anywhere, Dan."

Dan yanked her close and held her. Water splashed onto his shirt, cutting cold through the fabric. "It'll be all right."

"No, it won't. Alva has an estate worth three million dollars, and I'm the sole beneficiary. Did you know that? Sufficient motive for murder. Monday, Jamie's going to speak with the District Attorney. At least he gave me notice."

The corridor went red before Dan's eyes. He used to think it was only an expression, "seeing red." Perhaps it was due to blood vessels expanding. Or maybe it was envisioning blood being shed.

"Let's go for a ride along the coast. How's that? Maris, look at me. A ride with the windows down. It's a beautiful day. And after we get back, we'll talk about things like getting you a lawyer."

A lawyer. She'd never needed an attorney for anything in her life. She had no idea how much a defense would cost, how broke she would end up in the process of unnecessarily proving her innocence. Maris leaned her head against the headrest, eyes closed against the glare of the sun through the window. Dan had gone into the drugstore on the main street for water for the trip. And chocolate, he'd said. Lots of chocolate.

Hearing footsteps on the sidewalk, Maris peered out between her lashes. Not Dan. At the far end of the street, the sailors' cross rose above the downward curve of the road, dark against the sky. People who looked at the cross and read the names of those they had known, family members going back generations, would feel a sense of connection, of history. She didn't really possess that sense. Her roots hadn't been ripped up and transplanted. They'd been cut off and left behind in the ground to wither and die.

"Here you go."

Maris grabbed the plastic sack through the window and lowered it onto the floor between her feet. Peering at the contents, she removed a candy bar. "Want one?" she asked Dan as he slid behind the wheel.

"In a bit."

Maris broke off pieces of the flat bar and placed them on her tongue to melt while Dan drove. He didn't head straightaway to the coastal road, but took a side street out into the surrounding countryside, climbing hills flanked by scraggly pines and huge boulders. He said little, and Maris was content to leave it that way. After a few minutes, she folded the paper over the remainder of the candy bar and returned it to the drugstore bag.

Dan pulled the car to the side of the road. "Look at that."

Maris followed his gaze to the view of gray sea and blue sky. Terns and gulls rode air currents flaring off the cliff face, while others perched on boulders like a dusting of snow. Pine resin and salt air filled the car. To the left in the distance, the lighthouse stood tall on a spit of rock, waves crashing below. Maris shivered.

"Cold? We can shut the windows."

"Not cold. It's fine. That's a beautiful view."

"I come up here sometimes just to sit and watch the changing light over the water."

"Alone?"

"Always."

"Until now?"

"Until now."

The warmth of his gaze heated her skin. He smiled. Not the smile he threw around like business cards for the ladies he met, but one she'd noted he reserved for her. She didn't deserve it. Not his affection, not his companionship, not his grat.i.tude. In the end, she would let him down. Out there somewhere in the cold dark sea.

"Maris."

"I'm not crying."

"Yes, you are. And you shouldn't. Whatever it takes, we'll work this out."

She knew he meant the possibility of charges, but she wished he meant all of it. Yet these were things beyond his ability to alter. Or hers. She drew a deep breath.

"Maris, would you look at something for me?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out several photos. He shuffled through them and returned one to his shirt.

She held out her hand. "Where did you get these?"

"I, uh, might have come across them on Jamie's desk."

Maris giggled, separating the photos in the sunlight. "They're all of Aunt Alva."

"Who's that?" He pointed to a young boy in all of them. Maris leaned forward for a closer look.

"My dad, I think. Could be one of his brothers, but I don't think so. Yeah, I'd say my dad. Why?"

Dan's shoulders slumped. "I didn't think he looked like the other photos, but then again they might have been taken at a different time. I thought he might be someone else. A relative you don't remember."

Maris tapped the photos into a pile and handed them back. "No. We're not going to be able to go that route. There's no one but me left."

He slipped them back into his pocket, clearly disappointed. "We'll keep driving then?"

"Onward." She squeezed his hand and let go. Jamie had told her the provisions of Alva's Will. If only there were someone else, but even so, would she want suspicion to fall on that person? Why on earth couldn't it be someone with no familial connection whatsoever? Why weren't they checking further into other people in this town? Granted, three million dollars could sway someone to murder, but it didn't have to be that way. Decent people wouldn't care about the money. Unfortunately, Jamie didn't think she was decent. She wasn't sure he even believed she was sane.

Chapter 21.

Dan leaned against the hood of his car, arms folded across his chest. Maris sat inside behind him in the pa.s.senger's seat, refusing to get out. In front of him, the lighthouse of dark stone loomed high into the brilliant sky, the afternoon sun gilding the back curves. She appeared genuinely afraid. He figured he'd give her a couple of minutes.

The lighthouse was automated now, but for many years it housed the light keeper and, occasionally, his family. Perhaps Maris sensed some long ago tragedy, a spirit or two lingering on the grounds. He felt absolutely nothing except the delightful breeze along his forearms below his rolled-up sleeves.

The pa.s.senger door opened and closed again, quietly. Footsteps on gravel heralded Maris's appearance at his side. She leaned her rump against the car hood beside him, mimicking his stance, arms folded over her breast. Her face was as pale as it had been at the station.

"It's a lovely structure."

He nodded. "People are allowed inside up to a point. After that, there's a gate across the steps with a padlock to keep the machinery from being molested."

She didn't move.

"Do you want to go inside?"

"I..."

"We don't have to."

"Okay."

"But I'd like to."