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Mostly Murder Page 38

by Linda Ladd


  Epilogue

  Claire and Black flew back to Lake of the Ozarks on the day before Christmas Eve. Claire had never been so happy to see a piece of land in her life. They were both safe and sound and relatively uninjured. Her arm was better, and she no longer had to wear the sling, just a small splint. The snake tattoo had already been removed, though the residual scar it had left would always haunt her. But her little A-frame cabin was warm and welcoming, and outside, the edges of the lake were frozen over and a blanket of snow covered everything in sight. It was beautiful and pristine and Claire loved being home on her own private cove. She had hated to leave her new friends behind, especially with Zee still in the hospital. But he had understood, and they’d stayed there with him until he was well out of danger and surrounded by Mama Lulu and all his other friends and family.

  The same went for Gabe. He was on the Bayou Blue with his kinfolks, all of whom were still in shock over Rene’s betrayal of their family and his crimes against humanity. It had been a very bad deal, all the way around. She just hoped they could get over it. Gabe’s DEA colleagues had rounded up the Skulls, and now they awaited the long, drawn-out trial process. But he said they had plenty of evidence against them on a multitude of charges, so few of them would walk free for a very long time. She hoped he was right about that because he now had a bounty on his head where they were concerned. He promised to come to the lake and see her as soon as he could and that made her happy, too.

  Bourdain had been charged with multiple counts of first-degree murder and would never see the light of day outside prison walls, she had no doubt of that. More remains had been found on his island in the swamp. But probably many others had been thrown to the alligators. He was gone for good, except in her dreams, where other killers she’d faced still dwelled and frightened her nightly. Jack had exacted his revenge on the killer of his family, but that hadn’t stopped the horror she’d seen on his face when they’d examined the terrible maze in which Rene had probably kept Jill and Jenny and countless other innocent victims and tormented them and terrorized them and eventually murdered them.

  It was too dreadful to contemplate, but maybe now Jack could rest and move on, as Claire was determined to do. She could thank Black for that, too. His understanding and ability to talk her through her feelings helped her without it seeming as if he were plundering her head. She loved him. She loved him more than she had ever admitted to herself before.

  But Black had changed since that deadly night in the bayous. He had become very quiet and introspective since they had come in from that appalling place, with Zee lying nearly lifeless in the bottom of the boat. He seemed very tired all the time, very stressed and upset. He was still struggling with the dangers of her job, which never seemed to end. He was outside in the yard now, alone, deep in thought again.

  Claire walked to the window and watched him for a moment. He was just standing out there in the snow, in his gray parka, jeans, and snow boots, hatless, hands stuffed in his pockets, staring out over the lake. She wondered what he was thinking and was almost afraid to know. He had put his own life in danger for her, and thank God that he had. But she had a feeling that he was tired of it all, the danger she faced so often, the danger in which she dragged him.

  Worse, she had begun to worry that he wasn’t going to put up with it much longer. He loved her. She didn’t question that. He had not confronted her yet or even asked her for her decision about opening her own detective agency, which he’d offered to underwrite. That had been his compromise. Since their latest case, he had been nothing but attentive and loving, but he had said very little. He hadn’t even tried to make her talk about it, which was what he usually did. There was always a sadness and worry behind those crystal-blue eyes of his, and she hated that. It was her fault it lingered there. She couldn’t stand to see him unhappy, but she couldn’t stand the thought of giving up her career, either.

  Wanting more than anything to cheer him up, make him smile and show all those killer dimples of his, she threw on her coat and snow boots and walked down to him. She stopped a few yards away, leaned down, and picked up a glove full of snow and packed it into a big snowball. She aimed, threw it, and hit him square on the back of the head. He turned, and she bent to scoop up more snow, but didn’t get off the second shot before he tackled her and they went down together in a soft bed of snow. She laughed when he got on top of her and held her face between his cold hands.

  “You shouldn’t’ve done that, Claire. Now I’m going to have to make you pay.”

  But he was smiling now, and she knew full well how he would make her pay. He rubbed some snow in her face, just to get her back, and it felt cold and fresh and clean and good. She smiled at him, her heart so full of so many things that she rarely ever said to him. But she wanted to say them now. She grew serious, her eyes searching his, and his smile gradually faded, too.

  Full of emotions, she reached up, cupped his face with her good hand. “Marry me, Black. Right now. I want you to marry me.”

  For the first few seconds, he looked absolutely astonished. He didn’t seem to know what to say. But that didn’t last long. He grinned down at her and then he rose above her on his knees and pulled a small velvet box out of his coat pocket and handed it to her. “Okay, if you really want me to.”

  “No way, Black. That cannot be a ring. I just asked you.”

  “I like to be prepared. This ring was the surprise I told you about when I got back from New York. I’ve been standing out here wondering if I should ask you again, or if you’d just turn me down flat again.”

  “How did you know I was ready?”

  “I didn’t know. But I wanted the ring handy, if and when you said you were. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

  Smiling, Claire sat up and opened the box. The most beautiful square-cut diamond solitaire that she’d ever seen was displayed on black velvet. “Oh, my God, Black. I can’t wear this. What if I lose it? I’m always losing things. I can’t even keep up with your cell phones. Somebody will mug me and steal it.”

  “It’s insured.”

  “You didn’t need to do this. I don’t care about rings. I only care about you.”

  “If you only knew how long I’ve waited for this day. We’ll have a huge wedding and go anywhere in the world you want for our honeymoon. But I’d love to take you to the Amalfi Coast in Italy. You’d love it there.”

  “Or we could fly to Las Vegas right now, get it done quick and easy, and spend our honeymoon at the Bellagio.”

  “Okay, fine, let’s go, before you change your mind.”

  “Oh, I’m not gonna change my mind, no way. I don’t like the way Jude sniffs around you all the time. She wants you back, I can tell.”

  Black grinned and pulled her to her feet. “The Lear is gassed and ready. I can’t think of a better wedding anniversary than Christmas Eve.”

  And Claire couldn’t, either. Whether they went to Las Vegas or had a small ceremony at Cedar Bend with all their friends, or a huge affair in the ballroom of his biggest hotel, it didn’t matter to her. He could even have the biggest, most spectacular wedding in the world, if he wanted it. She just wanted them to be together and stay together and be happy together. And he was smiling now, happy again, and that was the way she liked it. Maybe things would be different now. Maybe their lives would be less dangerous. Maybe she’d open that agency the way he wanted her to. When Black kissed her again, she put her arms around his neck and let it all happen. Mrs. Nicholas Black. Oh, God, she couldn’t believe she’d said yes. She’d once sworn she’d never marry again, never, ever, under any circumstances. But she didn’t think about that very long, not with him kissing her the way he was. She closed her eyes and let the magic happen, as it always did when he touched her. Life was good—oh yeah, life was really, really good.

  If you enjoyed Mostly Murder, don’t miss Linda Ladd’s thrilling

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  Read on for a special excerpt!


  Chapter One

  Present day

  I wasn’t sure where I was. I wasn’t sure who I was. I didn’t care. It was all misty gray and cool and ephemeral, like drifting inside the loveliest, quietest cloud ever created. I was just floating around, softly, swaying gently, and I liked it. It was peaceful and calm, no noise, no bother, no fear. I realized that I was anchored to the ground, somewhere far, far below, at the other end of a shiny silver tether that slipped down through the clouds mounding like giant, fluffy cotton below me. That didn’t matter. I didn’t want to think about it. I just wanted to be very still and enjoy the soft rocking motions of the gentle breezes. I wanted the clouds to take me higher, up very high, up into the bright white light making the clouds glow above me. It beckoned to me, but I couldn’t seem to make myself loosen the silver cord holding me in place so I could float up to that beautiful place.

  I shut my eyes and knew nothing more until a man’s voice awoke me. It was deep and husky and sounded scared and insistent and determined. I didn’t like it, but the voice was familiar somehow, and somehow I knew I had to listen.

  “Come on, baby, I know you can hear me. I know you can. You can come back. Just try, try to open your eyes, try to follow my voice back.” Then the voice melted away and there was a strangled sound, and I saw a face materialize inside my mind, with blue eyes and black hair, but I didn’t really recognize it. I ignored it then and let the rocking lull me to sleep again.

  The voice came often and made me weary of listening because I liked the quiet. And then other voices came, not as often as the blue-eyed face, but enough to disrupt my peace and wake me up.

  “It’s me, Claire, Bud. C’mon, please don’t do this to us. The doctors say you can recover, if you’ll just wake up. You’re in a coma, that’s the problem. You gotta wake up to get well. Charlie’s here, too. We’re all here.”

  That voice didn’t even sound familiar. Neither did the ones that came after his. I slept again, wishing they would just leave me alone and give me the tranquility I wanted. But they didn’t, they wouldn’t stop, and the voices seemed to go on night and day and forever.

  “It’s Black, Claire. Listen to me, listen, damn it. You can do this. Everybody’s been here to see you. It’s okay to wake up. I’ve got you back home now, and I’m not going anywhere until you open your eyes. You’ll be all right. It’s over. I’ve got the best doctors in the world on your case. You’re healing just fine. All you have to do is come back to me. You’ve got to come back. Just do it. Do it, Claire.”

  I slept some more. The voice would not stop. Now it was reading to me. Shut up and go away, I thought. Leave me alone. That same face loomed in my mind, and he looked vaguely familiar now, but I still didn’t know him. I didn’t want to know him.

  His voice seemed always to be there, always talking to me. “The sheriff needs you, Claire. You love being a detective, remember? You’re good at it. You’ve put lots of criminals behind bars. You got them, all of them. They’re never going to kill anybody again. Charlie needs you back on the job. I need you back.”

  Then a long time later, another voice came in to wake me, slow and drawling. “Listen here, Claire Morgan, this’s Joe McKay. What you tryin’ to pull doin’ something like this? Scarin’ us all to death. You get your pretty little butt back here and outta this bed. Lizzie’s here with me. She wants to say hi, too.”

  The more I heard the voices, the closer they seemed. They were dragging me down through the lovely clouds, down to wherever the silver rope was anchored, and I didn’t want to go down there. I wanted them to stop. I wanted to stay here in the soft silence so I resisted and tried to arrest the descent and shut my ears and not listen. Why wouldn’t they just leave me alone?

  Then I heard the voice of a child, very indistinct and far away. Nothing more than a whisper. “Me and Jules is sad you’re sick.”

  A vision erupted inside me, a little blond boy with chubby cheeks and chubby arms and a fishing pole with a little perch hanging on the hook. I didn’t know his name, but I knew he needed me. I haven’t seen him in so long. I gotta go back and find him. I left him somewhere, but I don’t know where. I’ve got to find him. He’ll be scared without me. I know he will.

  Somehow I raised myself from that lovely, dreamy, pearly-white, peaceful bed and took hold of the silver rope. I began to pull myself down, hand over hand, down, down, listening for the little child’s voice until the other voices came closer and closer. The one named Black, who pestered me so relentlessly, said, “Oh, thank God, she’s coming to. She’s trying to wake up.”

  I stopped there for a while, afraid, because the voices were now so near. Then finally, at long last, when they were quiet, I felt ready to face them. I opened my eyes to darkness, but shut them tight again, terror engulfing me. I tried to climb back up into the clouds, but now the lovely silence was gone, and the most terrible dreams came at me like monsters in the night. Then I heard a different voice, a terrible whispering voice, telling me something about an old warehouse on a river, telling me that we were finally together there, that we’d almost gotten away. And then a vision came in a rush, and I was tied to a chair, in a circle with other people, and someone was making the people shoot each other. Oh, God, please, help me. A man stood up and came toward me. He had a meat cleaver in his hand. He was going to kill me, but instead he turned to the man beside him and swung the cleaver hard. I fought desperately against the tape holding me, cringing back against the chair as he approached me with the bloody meat cleaver.

  Panting, terrified, trembling in every nerve and fiber of her body, Claire Morgan opened her eyes. She was fully awake now, instantly cognizant of her surroundings. She was in a hospital bed in a dimly lit room that she’d never seen before. She tried to move, but both her wrists were bound to the bed railings! Oh, God, oh, God. Then she saw the big man sitting in a chair drawn up beside her. He was asleep, reading glasses still perched on his nose, an open manila folder in his lap. She didn’t know who he was. Was it the man in her dream, the one with the meat cleaver? Did he have her captive again?

  Frantic to flee him and the dark room, she pulled and jerked on the bindings and realized that he’d put all kinds of tubes and wires on her arms and chest, ones that led to IV bags on a rolling stand. What was he doing to her? Drugging her? Horrified, she struggled harder against the cloth bed restraints. When alarms on the heart monitor beside her shattered the quiet with buzzes and bells, the guy in the chair jumped up and leaned over her. Her captor grabbed her shoulders and tried to stop her attempts to get out of the bed.

  “Claire, oh, thank God. Listen to me, listen, you’re okay. Nobody’s going to hurt you. You probably had a bad dream. Calm down, I’m here. I’m right here.” Then his arms were around her, and he was holding her up tightly against his chest. He held her there, and she wanted to be free. She didn’t know him!

  “Let me go, let go!”

  Her voice came out hoarse and raspy, her mouth dry and parched. She could barely speak. Where was the meat cleaver? Was he going to kill her? A nurse in blue scrubs suddenly ran into the room and to her bedside. She began to adjust the machines. “Oh, my God, Nick! She’s awake!”

  The man let go of her, but he kept his face down very close to hers. Cringing and pushing away from him, she felt his hand on her brow, very gentle. She tensed all over. Then she realized that this Nick guy was the man with black hair and pale blue eyes. She could see his eyes shining in the dim light. His voice was deep, very low and soothing when he spoke again. “It’s me, Claire. Nicholas Black. Do you remember me?”

  “No, no, I don’t! Why is it so dark? Why am I tied up?”

  “Shh, baby, don’t fight me like this. I’m taking the bed restraints off right now. See, I’m untying them.” He continued to talk to her in that same soft, reassuring tone. Now his voice was beginning to sound vaguely familiar, like the one who talked to her so often. Now he was speaking to the nurse. “Monica, quick, turn on the lights, all of them.”

&nbs
p; The man, Nick, was holding her left hand now between both of his, trying hard to calm her fears. Her heart raced; she didn’t understand any of this. “You’ve been dreaming a lot, sweetheart, having some pretty bad nightmares. You’ve been thrashing around, fighting against something. I was afraid you’d hurt yourself so I ordered the restraints. See, they’re off now. Nobody’s going to hurt you or tie you up again.”

  As soon as the ties came off, she scooted back away from him as far as she could get. Confused, very weak, she pulled a pillow in front of her, a pitiful barrier against him, trying to understand what was going on. She had to calm down, she knew that, but her heart was thudding so hard that her body shook with each beat. Inhaling deep breaths, she managed to calm down a little bit, but it took a while. Her voice came out hoarse and trembling. “Tell me where I am. What is this place? What’s wrong with me?”

  “You’re okay now. You were hurt in a car accident. You’ve got a serious head injury. You’ve been lying here in a coma for a long time.”

  “I don’t remember that,” she said, and then added with renewed horror, “I don’t remember anything.”

  “You will, I promise. It’s going to take time, that’s all.” The Nick guy smiled down at her. “How do you feel, babe? Do you want anything—a drink of water, anything at all?”

  Claire shook her head and tried desperately to remain calm, and didn’t quite make it. “Just tell me where I am!”

  “We’re at Cedar Bend Lodge. That’s where we live. Please, Claire, please just lie back and keep calm. Nobody here is going to hurt you, I swear to God.”

  Staring up at him, she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t have a clue to who she was; she didn’t know if she could trust what he was saying. She’d never seen him before and never heard of any place called Cedar Bend Lodge. She felt sick to her stomach, like she was going to throw up. Bewildered and mind-muddled, she tried desperately to relax her rigid muscles and lie still. Her heart still thundered. “Tell me who you are. Tell me why I’m here.”

 

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