Saving Grace

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “Tryst?” Mama echoed.

  Though Grace hadn’t intended to talk about her relationship with Declan tonight, Minny had let the cat out of the bag. So over coffee and iced tea, Grace filled in the family with as few details as possible. Mama was not quite as delighted with the match as she’d been when she didn’t know Declan was merely a private investigator, but she put up a good front. Corbett said he would wait to pass judgment until he got to know Declan better.

  Supportive as always, Minny patted her on the arm and whispered, “I’m so pleased for you, Grace. You’ve finally come into your own.”

  “Whatever that means.”

  “Think of Declan as…well, your new pink shoes.”

  Chuckling, Grace hugged Minny. Her cousin always knew how to lighten her mood.

  Not that the good mood had long to last.

  A QUARTER OF AN HOUR LATER, Minny pulled her car over where Front Street ended, as close to Grace’s destination as she could get.

  “We can park the car and I can come with you,” Minny volunteered.

  Grace loved her cousin for being so concerned. “I’ll be fine. Really.” Hopping out of the car, she waved Minny off.

  A far more sober Grace refocused herself on the things that had happened to her and on the perpetrator. The rain had stopped, but fog clung to the sidewalks and streets and climbed the lightposts and buildings, making the surroundings surreal. As Grace cut across the train tracks to the Moonwalk, she could hear the storm-swollen river lap heavily toward shore.

  Her mind roiled with possibilities.

  She tried to imagine Raphael as a murderer, no less a blackmailer, but she simply couldn’t believe he meant to harm her. Laroche was a blowhard, base to his political enemies, greedy and not above taking other people’s money if he was indeed part of that Ponzi scheme Declan had dug up. He might be a despicable human being, but she didn’t see him as the brains behind the operation.

  And then there was Jill Westerfield, who seemed to hate her for no reason….

  Or was there?

  Was the reporter hiding something? Grace wondered.

  Reaching the Moonwalk, Grace headed for the bench near the steps that went down to the water, still some ways ahead. The fog was more prevalent here, making the surroundings look slightly out of focus. The river beat against the shore, sending up a fine spray, probably the reason the area was deserted. Beneath the crash of the waves came the sweet, deep-throated melody of a sax. Likely a street musician over on Decatur. Rather than soothing her, the sound oddly put her on edge.

  Her thoughts drifted back to Jill, to the vision she’d had at Raphael’s place. Jill’s self-satisfied smile so telling that Grace couldn’t quite forget it…maybe because it reminded her of something. Someone. Focusing inward, she stopped for a moment when it came to her. The snapshot on Corbett’s coffee table…the one of him with Naomi…that same self-satisfied smile…

  “Oh, no,” she choked out.

  Surely it couldn’t be. And Corbett simply couldn’t be so unwitting.

  Still trying to sort it out in her mind, Grace suddenly became aware of the sound of steps approaching. Glancing over her shoulder, Grace got a quick glimpse of a dark figure behind her—one that reminded her of the person who’d chased her through the Marigny a few nights before—and then the fog thickened, swallowing the dark phantom.

  Pulse rushing, Grace had a bad feeling about this.

  She opened her purse and felt for her cell phone so she could call Declan, but the cell wasn’t there, and suddenly she could see it on the breakfast bar where she’d put it down while getting ready to leave that morning. No wonder he’d never called—he hadn’t been able to get hold of her. She picked up her pace after another nervous glance over her shoulder, but the thickening fog kept her from seeing anyone else.

  Even as she sped up, so did the footsteps following her.

  A clear spot ahead revealed the bench near the staircase down to the edge of the river. No Declan waiting there for her. No one there at all.

  Suddenly, it occurred to her that Declan might not have been the one who’d sent the e-mail message.

  Veering toward Artillery Park, Grace broke into a run, but she only got a few steps before what felt like a pulsing current charged through her body, causing her to light up with violent pain. Her muscles contracted, and a sudden vertigo she’d never before experienced dropped her to the pavement where she flopped around like a fish reeled in from the Mississippi.

  “Don’t get up on my account, Grace.” Jill Westerfield stepped out of the fog, holding what looked like a gun in her hand. “Oh, that’s right. You can’t.”

  Even dazed, Grace finally knew it all. She tried to speak, to say so, but all that came from her mouth was drool.

  Jill Westerfield was Naomi Larkin transformed.

  Grace had outted her, Corbett had gotten her fired, and now she was back for revenge.

  WHEN GRACE DIDN’T return his call, Declan became concerned. He tried both her phones again, but she didn’t pick up.

  He didn’t want to worry her mother, but what choice did he have? Luckily, Sandra Broussard’s number was listed. Declan placed the call and sweated out every ring.

  “Broussard residence,” came a male voice.

  “Corbett?”

  “Who is this?”

  “Declan McKenna. Is Grace there?”

  “No, she already left.”

  His gut tightened. “To go where?”

  “Wherever it is you asked her to meet you.”

  “I didn’t ask her to meet me anywhere.” Declan tried to control his growing panic. “I told her I would call, but Grace isn’t answering either of her phones.”

  “Wait a minute, your e-mail said you wanted to meet her at ten o’clock.”

  A sick feeling shuddered through Declan and he gripped his cell hard. “Corbett, I didn’t send Grace an e-mail. The blackmailer must have spoofed my address. Are you sure she didn’t say where she was supposed to meet me?”

  “I’m positive. Wait—Minny dropped her off. Stay on the line. I’ll call her from my cell.”

  Declan’s insides knotted and twisted as Corbett made the call. Cell to his ear, he left the office and locked the door. Waiting outside for direction, he held his breath.

  If anything happened to Grace, it would be his fault, Declan thought.

  …I call on my faerie blood and my powers as a witch to give yers only sorrow in love, for should they act on their feelings, they will put their loved ones in mortal danger…

  A McKenna couldn’t escape the witch’s curse. When Bergeron had died, Declan had mistakenly thought the danger was past, that he and Grace had somehow defeated their destiny. Now he knew—the moment he met her, he should’ve run in the other direction to keep her safe. He was destined to repeat the mistake of his father and all the other McKennas who thought they could cheat death somehow.

  Guilt rushed through him, leaving him light-headed and heart-heavy. What had he done?

  What had he done!

  Suddenly Grace’s brother was back on the line.

  “Minny left Grace off in the French Quarter,” Corbett said. “Grace thinks you’re going to be on the Moonwalk behind Café du Monde near the steps down to the water…right now, as a matter of fact.”

  Declan was already running toward Decatur. “I can be there in a couple minutes. Get me backup!”

  “Will do!”

  Declan flipped his cell closed and shoved it in his pocket.

  He only hoped those few minutes were enough to save Grace’s life.

  THOUGH DAZED AND DISORIENTED, Grace could still hear her attacker jabbering at her.

  “After you and your brother got through with me, I had no job, no money,” Naomi-Jill said. “And then came Hurricane Katrina. I was stuck in one of those horrible centers. No food, no water, but plenty of danger, especially for a woman. A gang cornered me. I tried fighting them off and was beaten so badly my face needed reconstructive surgery
.”

  So that’s how she’d changed her looks, Grace thought. Her brain was clearing, but she was unable to make her limbs do what she wanted.

  “S-sorry,” Grace slurred, surprised at the weird sound of her own voice.

  She got a glimpse of the other woman, who was stooping now, and pulling something from the gun. Grace focused and saw two wires that went from the muzzle to her body…and gathered Naomi was removing a cartridge from a stun gun.

  “They took me to a hospital in Mississippi,” Naomi went on. “After I recuperated, I learned to live in poverty. My reputation was ruined and I couldn’t get so much as a job interview with any reputable newspaper or television station. I did all kinds of low-level jobs for years. The way I kept myself sane…was to plot my revenge.”

  Sane? Did she really believe that? Grace wondered.

  Naomi was concentrating on the stun gun now, loading it with another cartridge. So she could shoot Grace again?

  Grace was starting to feel her limbs—obviously the effect of the stun didn’t last. She had to distract the woman, keep her talking.

  “Jill Westerfield,” Grace forced out, sounding a little less weird. “Who?”

  “A reporter. I met her in Mississippi, became friends with her. I knew she was coming to New Orleans on business and followed her here. She was as stupid as you, following directions to come out here on the Moonwalk late at night. Yes, I had something on her, too, enough to make her do something foolish. Oh, in case you’re interested, she’s dead now. I did what I had to. Now killing you will be a pleasure.”

  Grace covertly tested herself. She didn’t want Naomi to know the effects were wearing off, not yet. But she could move her toes and fingers, though not completely the way she needed to.

  “Laroche…” she gritted out. “Part of this?”

  “Not that he knows. I seduced him and convinced him to hire me as a publicist so I could get to you and Corbett. I wanted to take everything from you as everything was taken from me. I found a kindred soul in Bergeron Prejean. It didn’t take much to convince him to help me.”

  And he was able to bully Eula into giving him access to the studio dressing room, Grace knew.

  “Kill him?” Grace mumbled.

  “I couldn’t have any witnesses. So far it was the only part of my plan that went the way I imagined. I wanted to leave you Broussards stripped of your reputations in addition to your money. I was just getting started. But now I see the error of my ways and I know what I have to do. I’m putting a new plan in place.”

  Naomi stood and aimed the stun gun at Grace.

  But before she could pull the trigger, a voice came out of the fog from behind her. “Sorry to spoil your plan.”

  Naomi started and whipped around and even as Declan stepped forward, she aimed and shot off the second cartridge.

  Horrified, Grace watched helplessly from the ground as Declan shouted, his body dancing before he dropped to the ground, one arm and shoulder hanging over the first step leading down to the water.

  “Now I have to kill you, too!” Naomi shrieked.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Stun gun still in hand, Naomi got on the steps behind Declan and tugged at his body. His muscles spasmed. Nothing he could do to help himself, Grace knew. He went down…down…down toward the storm-tossed waters. Trying not to panic, Grace gathered her strength and pulled herself along the pavement, crawling toward them. She had to do something before the crazed woman drowned the man she loved!

  Her head was clearer now, and everything seemed to be working, if at a low level. Grace pushed herself into a sitting position. She willed the world to stop moving around her and somehow got up on shaky legs. Unsteady on her feet, she rocked where she stood and gauged the distance to the steps. Naomi was halfway to the waterline and possessed with unnatural strength as she dragged a helpless Declan with her.

  “Naomi, stop!” Grace shouted, stumbling forward.

  With a screeched “You bitch!” the other woman gave a big tug on Declan before letting go.

  As he slid down closer to the river, Naomi reached in her pocket. When she pulled out her hand, she connected what she had taken from the pocket with the stun gun. Grace realized she was loading a third cartridge.

  “No!” Grace screamed, stumbling forward and throwing herself off the walkway to stop Naomi before she could shoot the damn thing again.

  Grace slammed into the woman and the stun gun flew off into the water. They stumbled off-center together and hit the chain that swung between posts. Naomi tripped and fell on her back. Grace landed on her. Preparing herself for a fight, she realized Naomi was unconscious and must have hit her head on one of the big chunky rocks scattered along the bank.

  Hearing a groan, she turned to see Declan sprawled over the stairs, head down toward the waters that rolled up over the bank, over his head, threatening to drown him. His limbs thrashed, but he obviously had no control over his body yet. Panic made her move fast. She kicked away from Naomi to free herself from the other woman, but as she did so, Naomi started rolling down toward the river’s edge.

  Grace tried to grab the woman to keep her from going in, but the waters of the Mississippi reached up for the murderess and sucked her straight into the current.

  Unwilling to let the same thing happen to Declan, Grace scrambled to the steps and collapsed next to him. Desperate to save him, she pulled his head free of the water. His eyes were open and he was trying to talk.

  “Save your strength,” she said as sirens and flashing lights and excited voices signaled the arrival of backup. “It’s over, Declan. And we’re both still alive.”

  “COME HOME WITH US, Grace,” Sandra Broussard said, fussing over her daughter an hour later as the medics locked up the ambulance.

  Grace hugged her mother tightly. “The medic said I’m all right. That Declan and I will both be fine. Being stunned didn’t cause any permanent damage or long-term effects to our muscles or nerves.”

  The scene was surreal, Declan thought, keeping his distance as he had since being half carried to the ambulance by a uniformed policeman.

  The fog lingered in drifts and puffs, haloing the lights not only of the ambulance, but also of the half dozen responding police cars. They’d been poked and prodded and had given their statements. A police boat was on its way to search the river for Naomi Larkin.

  Rather for her body.

  Declan could pin the moment the life had been snuffed from the crazed woman—her emotions had flatlined along with her heart—and it hadn’t happened in the water. When she’d landed on the rocks, either her neck had broken or her head had cracked open. Or both. Not that he would tell Grace. She didn’t need to know for sure. She didn’t need the guilt.

  He had enough guilt for them both.

  Tonight had been the scariest night of his life—he’d almost lost Grace—but she was still alive, and that’s all that mattered to him.

  “I just want to know you’re safe,” Sandra was saying.

  “Sorry, Mama, but I’ll be safe with Declan,” Grace said, gazing at him with wide-open eyes and heart. “I need to be with him now.”

  Declan shook his head. “Go home with her, Grace,” he said, trying to ignore the soft feelings cocooning him, trying to trick him into believing they’d outrun the curse. “Go be with your family. They’re the ones who need you now.” With them, she would stay safe.

  “You can try to push me away all you want, Declan McKenna, but I’m not having any of it this time. You’re stuck with me.” Grace hugged and kissed her mother and then her brother. “I’m so sorry it turned out this way, Corbett.”

  “You were right about Jill…about Naomi all along,” Corbett said, voice tight. “I’m just relieved you weren’t hurt. If you had been, it would have been my fault.” Her brother kissed the top of Grace’s head and looked at Declan. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

  Declan clenched his jaw and didn’t say anything. Corbett’s despair covered him like a shroud,
informing Declan that the man grieved for the woman who’d tried to kill his sister. Grace escorted her mother and brother to Corbett’s car, hugged them again, then jogged back to him.

  “I’ll take you home,” Declan said, wrapping an arm around Grace’s shoulders, perhaps the last time he would touch her this way. No matter what she said, he knew what he had to do. “We’ll have to get a taxi.” Which meant they would have to walk over to Decatur.

  “You do want to be with me tonight, don’t you?” Grace asked as they started off.

  “You know I do…but I honestly don’t know why you would want to be with me.”

  Grace poked him in the ribs. “Maybe because I care about you and don’t want to be without you.”

  “But I let you down.”

  She stopped dead in her tracks. “When?”

  Declan nodded to the river. “Out there. You could have been killed.”

  “I would have died if you hadn’t shown up. Naomi was going to Taser me a second time and then dump me into the river.”

  “Instead, I let her Taser me and you had to save me.”

  “Is that the problem?” Turning into him, she reached up and touched his face. “That I saved you in return for all that you’ve done for me? Would you rather I had let you die?”

  Heat shot through him at the full frontal contact, but Declan stopped himself from taking Grace in his arms. “No, of course not.”

  “Then stop complaining.”

  “Grace, we can’t be together. Surely you can see that.”

  “Why not? Bergeron and Naomi are gone for good.” She lifted her eyebrows and almost smiled. “If they come back to haunt us, I know some people in the French Quarter who can take care of that.”

  “Go ahead and make light of it. But I know what I know.”

  “And I know what I know. If half the things I’ve seen in our future come to pass,” Grace said, rubbing up against him, “we’re going to be so happy together you’ll forget there ever was a prophecy.”