True Vision

by Joyce Lamb

  “I’m not letting you do this alone. That’s all there is to it.”

  “You can’t stop me.”

  “I can sure as hell try.”

  “How?”

  “Well, first of all, I’d give your buddy Logan a call and tell him what you’re up to. I can probably talk him into placing you in protective custody.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Or he could arrest you for obstruction.”

  “Obstruction? How?”

  “You’ve withheld information that’s important to an ongoing investigation.”

  “Noah, come on.”

  “No, you come on. I just found you. No way in hell am I letting you use yourself as bait. I couldn’t live if something happened to you.”

  Starting to smile, she slipped her arms around his waist and kissed his chest before hugging him close. “You couldn’t live, huh?”

  He closed his eyes and held her against him. “I’m not kidding.”

  “I know,” she murmured, snuggling her head under his chin. “I feel the same way.”

  He let out his held breath and stroked a hand over her back, up into her hair. “It’s a little crazy, isn’t it? How fast . . .”

  She smiled up at him. “Which is crazier? That I’m super empathic or that we fell for each other in a week?”

  He chuckled, then kissed her slowly, deeply, before resting his forehead against hers. “This Mac Hunter guy. You and he . . .”

  She drew back and studied his face. “Don’t worry about him. That’s over.”

  “He seemed pretty adamant that he wanted you back.”

  “He can’t have me.”

  “But you loved him at one time, didn’t you? The way you looked at him . . .”

  “Mac and I have a history. But that’s all it is. History.”

  Relieved, he nuzzled the curve of her neck. Her skin smelled like salvation. “Before I met you, I wasted a lot of time being an idiot. I’m done with that.”

  “Thank God,” she said, kissing him again.

  He lifted her onto the porch railing and nudged her legs apart so he could stand between them, then smoothed his hands over the material of her shorts, his thumbs lightly massaging toward the vee of her thighs. “This is where I want to be.”

  “Woo-hoo for me,” she said, grinning.

  He pressed his lips to her throat, and she dropped her head back, hanging onto his shoulders. She smelled of soap and Gulf air, and he breathed in her now-familiar scent, not surprised in the least when blood and heat rushed to his groin.

  He gathered her off the railing into his arms, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, settling against his growing erection. A shuddery moan slipped through her lips as she twined her arms around his neck and buried her mouth on his. He headed for the door that led inside.

  In the bedroom, he kicked the door shut and lowered her onto the bed, his hands diving for the bare skin under her blouse.

  She cupped his face and looked into his eyes. “What if I wear a wire?”

  He paused with her left breast under his palm, her nipple hardening against his skin. What the hell was she talking about? “What?”

  She wriggled so that she was centered under the bulge in his pants. “You could sit in your room or in the lobby and listen to what’s going on.” She arched her hips to press firmly against him. “If I run into trouble, you’d be right . . .” her breath hitched, “there.”

  He closed his eyes, groaned. “This isn’t the right time for this conversation.”

  She reached between them, undid the button of his jeans and worked her hand inside. “Oh, wow, you’re not wearing underwear.”

  “AnnaCoreen’s weren’t a good fit,” he said through his teeth as her fingers slid over his cock, rubbed. “Oh, God.” He stopped being able to think, shocked at how damn good her hand felt stroking the most sensitive, most vulnerable part of him.

  “It’s the perfect setup,” she murmured, kissing his chin, his jaw, teasing his earlobe with her tongue. “I can do what I need to do, and you can be right there, doing what you need to do.”

  He lifted his hips back, breathing hard, ready to tear her clothes off but holding himself in check. “Let’s get something straight, shall we?”

  She gave him a feline smile, flexed her fingers around him. “Sure.”

  He dropped his forehead against hers, concentrated on taking deep, calming breaths. “Please, stop.”

  “Stop?”

  His hips bucked, driving himself against her warm palm. Christ, he already wanted to come. “Yes, stop. Now.”

  Her fingers paused in their stroking, but she didn’t withdraw her hand. Thank God. He swallowed, tried to think straight. No matter how often or how forcefully he refused to help her with her plan, she’d find a way. Wouldn’t it be better to be there, ready to crush anyone who tried to harm her, than tempt her to try to go it alone? “We’d have to have a code word.”

  “Code word?”

  “Yes, so that if you got into trouble, all you’d have to do is say the word, or phrase, and I’d come running.”

  “Just say the words and you’d come?”

  He groaned, so desperate to thrust that his head felt light and heavy at the same time. “I’m trying to be serious here.”

  “So,” she moved her fingers in a feathery stroke, “just so we’re understanding each other. If I wear a wire while I set myself up as bait, you won’t try to stand in my way.”

  He kissed her temple, her nose, her lips. “You’re going to find a way to do it no matter what I say, aren’t you?”

  She smiled. “Yes.”

  “Then I’m going to be there every step of the way.”

  Her smile grew, and she reared up to nip his chin. “I already know what the code phrase can be.”

  He had to laugh, but it ended on a choked moan when her fingers resumed their assault. “You’d better tell me now before I lose it.”

  She pressed her lips to his ear and whispered, “Take me.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Charlie started shaking all over again when she saw all the tubes hooked up to Alex. Noah’s hand resting lightly at the back of her neck under her hair kept her grounded, and she focused on that, found strength in his presence.

  “The doctor said she’ll be okay,” he murmured near her ear.

  She took a breath and let it slowly out. Right.

  They found her parents in a waiting room that must not have been redecorated since the 1980s, considering the square wooden chairs sporting orange seat cushions and the ratty, orange-and-green-striped sofa.

  Reed and Elise Trudeau sat on opposite sides of the room, and Charlie marveled that near-tragedy, which usually brought people closer together, seemed to have driven her parents further apart.

  Her father, looking exhausted beyond words, rose and walked over to her and Noah. His dark eyes were kind as they looked into Charlie’s, his hand steady as he caressed the side of her face. She tensed for a blast of the inside of his head, but all she felt was extreme exhaustion, grinding fear and a burning, twisting pain in the center of her gut.

  His voice drew her back to the moment. “You doing okay, Squirt?”

  She almost burst into tears on the spot. He hadn’t called her Squirt since she’d actually been one. “Hanging in. And you, Dad? How are you?”

  He shrugged, cast a weary glance over his shoulder at her mother. “It’s been rough.”

  “How is she?”

  He shrugged again. “What can I say? Withdrawn, as usual. Barely holding it together.”

  “Why do you—” She broke off when Noah’s fingers tightened on her skin.

  Reed cleared his throat and stood a bit straighter, as though he knew the rest of her question and was relieved he didn’t have to answer. “I’m going to make the official announcement tomorrow, but the Sunday newspaper will be the last issue of the Lake Avalon Gazette.”

  She fought to control her spiraling emotion. This is it. He’s
giving up for good. “I would have thought the recent crime spree would be good for business.”

  He nodded. “It has been, actually. Nearly all the advertisers have come back, and then some. They know better than to pass up the numbers we’re selling. But I’m afraid it’s not enough to prop us back up on the edge of the cliff.”

  And then she did something she hadn’t let herself do since she was a teenager: She threw herself into her father’s arms. “God, Dad, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  He stroked her back, her hair, pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s not your fault, honey. It was only a matter of time.” He set her back from him and smiled down at her. “I heard you got an offer you can’t refuse from Simon Walker.”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “He called me. Wanted to make sure he wasn’t stepping on my toes in his run at you. I told him to go for it. In fact, I told him not to take no for an answer. It’ll be good for you, Charlie. What you’ve always wanted but I couldn’t give you.”

  Shame swept through her that she hadn’t believed in him, that her lack of faith had cost him everything. “You did the best you could, Dad.”

  “Not quite. I should have done better.” He glanced at her mother again, and sadness and regret seemed to settle over him like a heavy wool blanket. “On many levels.” Shaking his head, he looked back at her with a sad smile. “At any rate, it’s my turn to visit with Alex.”

  She reached up and kissed his cheek. “I love you,” she whispered in his ear.

  He hugged her to him. “Love you, too, Squirt.”

  He started to pull away, but she stopped him with her hands on his arms. “Promise me something.”

  He tilted his head. “What?”

  “That pain in your stomach? You need to get it checked.”

  His eyes widened. “How—”

  “Just trust me, okay? It could be serious.”

  He cleared his throat, nodded. “I saw the doctor yesterday, actually. It’s an ulcer, but we caught it before it got too serious, so don’t worry.” Then he smiled, a wondering kind of expression crossing his features. “You always surprise me, Charlie.”

  As he walked away, she noticed for the first time that his gait was that of an old man. She glanced away, toward Noah but not really looking at him. “I broke my father,” she said softly.

  Noah turned her to face him. “He seems like a pretty strong guy to me.”

  She cupped his face, kissed him on the mouth. “I’m going to tell my mother about Rena now, okay? You might want to take a hike.”

  “Are you sure it’s the right time?”

  “Yep. Her guard might be down. Unlike you, I’m not too noble to take advantage.”

  “Good luck.”

  After he walked out of the waiting room, leaving only Charlie and her mother in the room with burnt orange accents, she sat down in the chair next to Elise’s. “Hi.”

  Elise didn’t look up from the hands clasping and unclasping in her lap. “Charlotte.”

  Charlie drew in a breath and looked at the side of her mother’s face. “Why do you call me that?”

  “It’s your name.”

  “I’m not Charlotte. I’m Charlie.”

  “Fine. If it’ll make you happy, I’ll call you Charlie.”

  Charlie laughed softly. “So all it took for you to want to make me happy was for Alex to be on her deathbed.”

  Elise stiffened. “This is an inappropriate time to try to agitate me.”

  Charlie nodded and chewed briefly on her bottom lip. “I know about Rena.”

  Elise said nothing, but her hands stopped twisting. “Who?”

  “Your sister, Mother. Your sister Rena. I know all about her, so there’s no point in denying it any longer.”

  “You can’t know,” Elise said, her voice low and hoarse. “You can’t possibly know.”

  “You’re not the only one who can see inside other people’s heads.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I suggest you shut your mouth before your father returns.”

  “I’m not going to tell him, Mother. That’s your job.”

  Elise pushed up out of the chair and paced away, her arms wrapped around her middle.

  “And just for the record,” Charlie said, “I don’t think he’d hold it against you. He has plenty of other reasons to leave you, and he hasn’t.”

  Elise stopped pacing and glared at her. “Your sister is in intensive care, hanging onto life by a thread, and all you can do is taunt me.”

  “I’m not trying to hurt you or taunt you or make you miserable. I’m just trying to talk to you. Can’t we just talk?”

  “Not about . . . that.”

  “Why not? Why can’t we talk about the truth? What’s so horrible about it?”

  “It’s evil,” she breathed. “It’s unnatural.”

  “Evil? Who told you that?”

  “No one had to tell me. I figured it out all by myself, and then I ran away and never looked back. I’m not like them. I never want to be like them again.”

  Charlie stood and went to her mother. “Are there others? Do you have other sisters?”

  Elise turned her back, dropped her head back and stared at the ceiling as though beseeching the heavens. “I vowed I would never talk about them. They’re not a part of me. Not anymore.”

  “Rena is sick, Mother.”

  Elise whirled to face her, horror widening her eyes. “What?”

  “She has cancer.”

  Elise slapped her—

  Rena, oh, God, not Rena! All this time. Wasted.

  Charlie dropped out of her mother’s shock and back into the moment with her ears ringing and her cheek stinging. The same old pain.

  Her mother glared at her with fiery eyes. “Do not try to manipulate me like that ever again. Ever. Again. I will take your head off. Do you understand?”

  Charlie curled her hands into fists at her sides. “I understand that you’ve wasted a lot of time denying who you are and what you are, and it’s made you a very unhappy, very angry woman. Now your sister is dying. You have an opportunity to return to her, to see her before she’s gone. What you do with that opportunity is up to you.” She took a step toward her mother, forcing her back for a change. “And if you ever hit me again, I will hit you back. Do you understand?”

  Instead of responding, Elise turned on her heel and stalked out of the waiting room.

  Charlie’s shoulders sagged, and she lowered herself to the closest chair. Could that have gone worse?

  God, she missed Alex. And Sam. Where the hell was Sam?

  Charlie had left her older sister a message with the latest cell phone Sam had sent her, preprogrammed like the older models before it with a masked phone number that went right to voice mail. While Sam never answered the phone, she always returned Charlie’s calls. Sometimes not for a few days, though. And their conversations were always short and to the point. “Nana died in her sleep. Just so you know.” No sisterly small talk here.

  Charlie tried not to be annoyed with her sister’s mysterious absentee act, sometimes wondering if Sam had gone into witness protection without telling any of them. That’d be just like her. And would make sense, considering Sam hadn’t returned to Lake Avalon once since she’d fled, not for visits, not for holidays, not even for Nana’s funeral. Charlie wondered if she would have come for Alex’s funeral.

  “You did the best you could.”

  She raised her head to meet Noah’s eyes, surprised to see him standing before her. She struggled to focus on the moment. Oh, yes, she’d failed yet again to get her mother to act like a human being. “Were you listening?”

  He nodded. “Just outside the door.” He gave her a tight smile. “Wanted to charge the room when she slapped you.”

  “It’s good that you didn’t. I needed to handle that.”

  “I know.”

  She sighed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do better. For Laurette.”

&nbs
p; “Hey, you got her to stop denying the connection. That’s huge, isn’t it?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

  He took her hand and drew her to her feet. “If we’re going to kick some Royal Palm butt, we need to get going. But, first, there are a few things I’d like to do to you.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  We’re good and screwed now. Charlie Trudeau has probably already told the cops everything she knows about Louisa and what we’ve been up to.”

  “Then why haven’t we been arrested?” he asked, his hand tightening on the phone. The thought of prison terrified him. Everyone knew what happened to young men in prison.

  “I have no clue. Maybe with Louisa dead, they want to catch us in the act. They’re probably setting up a sting operation as we speak.”

  “So we take a break, let it all blow over.”

  She scoffed in his ear, her voice harsh. “You’re so young and stupid. It’s not going to blow over until they’ve nailed us. Especially with Charlie Trudeau on the story. You saw what she did to Dick’s. That was the point from the start. Silence Charlie Trudeau before Louisa’s body was discovered. If you’d dumped Louisa in the river instead of taking her home and trying to make it look like a fucking break-in, we’d have been fine. Fucking amateur.”

  “Well, I’m sorry I let you down with the way I handled my first homicide. But I am a fucking amateur. I didn’t sign up for murder.”

  “I don’t appreciate your tone.”

  “You don’t appreciate my tone?” His temper slipped a dangerous notch. “Give me a fucking break! I’m so sick of your condescension. I gave you everything. Did everything you wanted. I became a killer—” He strained to turn down the flame of his rage. “You know what? Maybe I’ll go to the police myself and tell them all about you, about how you seduced me to get me to do your dirty work. How about that?”

  Silence.

  Oh, fuck, what had he just done?

  When she finally responded, her voice was cold steel. “You were a willing participant.”

  “I was putty in your hands,” he countered.