Avery patted the blanket. "Have a seat."
"I'd rather dance. Care to cut a rug with an old man like me?"
She smiled affectionately and stood. "I'd love to."
He led her toward the makeshift dance floor, in front of the bandstand. He held out his arms. She took his hand and they began to move in time to the music, a Cajun two-step. "I've been waiting for a chance to get you alone. Matt's not left your side all day."
"Matt's grown into a good man," she said. "You must be proud."
He shifted his gaze, a sadness crossing his features. Sensing he was thinking of his other son, she murmured, "Hunter's going to be okay. He will, I'm certain of it."
He met her eyes once more, the expression in his gentle. "Thank you, Avery. That means the world to me."
The music's pace shifted, Buddy adjusted smoothly. For such a big man, he was light on his feet, graceful. She told him so.
"Lilah made it clear when we were dating, if I wanted to win her hand, I had to know how to dance. So I learned. It wasn't easy, let me tell you." He chuckled. "Two left feet is my natural inclination."
She smiled at the story. "Where is Lilah tonight? I haven't seen her or Cherry."
"Lilah's home. Under the weather. Cherry elected to stay with her."
"I'm sorry to hear she's not feeling well."
"She suffers horribly this time of year with her allergies."
"Is there anything I can do?"
"Pay her a visit." He smiled, the picture of fatherly affection. "I'm so pleased you're home, Avery."
She kissed his cheek. "I am, too, Buddy. I didn't realize how much I missed this place. The people."
"It's a good place. Good people."
Anyone whose actions fell outside what was considered right, moral or neighborly was singled out.
Her smile faded. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"Buddy, can I ask you something?"
"Sure, baby girl."
"You ever heard of a group called The Seven?"
His steps faltered; he drew his eyebrows together. "When you asked about her, I was afraid this might happen."
"Who?"
"That Gwen Lancaster."
"You know her?"
"Of her," he corrected, expression tight. "She's been going around Cypress Springs spreading lies. Starting rumors."
"So the group never existed?"
"They existed, all right. Just not the way she's portraying them. To hear her talk, they were a bunch of hatemongers and murderers."
He let out a heavy-sounding breath. "They called themselves Seven Citizens Who Care. The group organized in an attempt to stem the tide of social ills that had beset our town. Their feeling was, stop crime before it happened. They began a drug and alcohol awareness program in the schools. They organized a chapter of Planned Parenthood. They arranged counseling for families in crisis. They began a campaign to get families back to church."
Avery remembered suddenly being required to take sex education in the tenth grade, remembered the addition of films about the dangers of alcohol and drugs in health class-subjects that had never been broached in school before.
"They weren't high-profile. They weren't in it for acclaim or notoriety. They were simply citizens willing to take a stand for this community. Lilah belonged. So did Pastor Dastugue."
"I feel like an idiot. I didn't know."
"I wish they had been more public. Then people like Gwen Lancaster couldn't spread their lies."
"What's going on here, Dad? You trying to steal my girl?"
Buddy's expression cleared. "I think your mother would have something to say about that, son."
A commotion by the bandstand interrupted their banter. Buddy glanced in that direction, then swore softly. "Excuse me, kids. Duty calls."
They watched him go. The band struck up another tune. "Dance with me?"
Matt held out his arms; Avery stepped into them. Her talk with Buddy had changed everything, she realized. She felt as if a thousand-pound weight had been lifted from her shoulders. How could she have trusted a stranger over people she knew and loved?
"You and Dad have a nice talk?" he asked.
"Really nice."
"He loves you a lot, you know. As much as me or Cherry."
But not Hunter. Never Hunter.
"You're thinking of my brother, aren't you?"
How did he so easily read her mind? Did he know her so well, still, after all these years?
"Yes," she said.
"He did this to himself, Avery. He removed himself from our lives."
"But why? I guess I just…don't understand. We were all so close."
"I wish to God I knew what went wrong. You can't imagine-" He looked away, then back, expression in his eyes anguished. "I've never been closer to anybody than I was my brother. He's my other half, Avery. When we were kids…I couldn't have imagined this. That we wouldn't be best friends anymore. That we wouldn't even speak to one another, for God's sake."
"Have you tried to reconcile?"
He laughed, the sound tight. "Are you kidding? We all have. Tried and been rebuffed. Time and again."
"Hunter said something about Dad and Buddy's relationship. That they didn't even speak anymore. That it had become so bad between them, Dad would cross the street to avoid their coming face-to-face. Is that true?"
"Son of a bitch," he muttered, expression tightening. "That prick."
"So, it's not true?"
"Only partially. In the last months before his suicide. I believe he avoided Dad because he knew Dad would realize how bad off he was and stop him."
"Oh," she murmured, feeling small and gullible. "Did he say anything else about us?"
Nothing she was about to repeat. She shook her head. "He seems so serious now. As if he's facing-"
"I don't want to talk about my brother, Avery. Not tonight." Matt drew her closer against him. "Did today bring back memories?"
She tilted her face up to his. "Good ones."
"Remember the Spring Fest we sneaked off to make out? We were all of thirteen."
"Your dad caught on. Followed us. Made you apologize to me."
"Lectured me about how to treat a lady."
She laughed. "Little did he know, it was the lady's idea."
And three years later, sneaking off to Tiller's Pond had also been her idea. And there, under the star-sprinkled sky they had consummated their passion for one another.
"We were so bad," she said.
"We were in love." His gaze held hers. Her mouth went dry. "I couldn't get enough of you, Avery. Of touching you. Of being with you."
The blood rushed to her head. He dropped a hand to the small of her back, began moving his fingers in slow, rhythmic circles.
She melted against him. Memories swamped her. Of past moments like this. Of hot, urgent hands and mouths. Of the dizzying rush of their newfound sexuality.
He brought his mouth to her ear. "Seeing you with Hunter yesterday like that, it made me crazy. I couldn't look at you. I was afraid of what I might do. To you. To him."
What would it be like to make love with Matt? Avery wondered. Without the potency of young love, without the heady rush of their burgeoning sexuality? They weren't kids anymore but consenting adults. They'd had other lovers, they had hurt and been hurt. They wouldn't have to hurry, wouldn't need to worry about getting home before curfew or being caught. She knew how to please a man; he to please a woman.
With Matt she could have what she had lost. She could be the girl who was otherwise gone forever.
Cherry's warning to stay away from her brother unless she was serious ran through her mind, as did the assertion that Matt had never loved anyone but her.
Until she knew what she wanted, they couldn't go there. Much as she longed to.
"What are you thinking?" he asked.
"About the past. The way it was between us."
"I'm glad." He dropped his face close to hers. "Because it was good. And it could be good again. Ve
ry good."
"I wish I could be as certain. So much has changed, Matt. We've cha-"
He brought a finger to her lips. "I'm a patient man. I've waited this long, I can wait a little longer."
CHAPTER 24
Gwen stared at the front page of the Gazette's Wednesday edition, her morning cup of coffee cooling on the bedstand. Not the headline story about Peggy Trumble's winning entry in the annual Spring Fest bake-off, but the one at the bottom, tucked into a corner, almost an afterthought: Car Hauled Out of Tiller's Pond.
She skimmed the piece for the third time. The story-hardly more than a blurb-went on to report how Avery Chauvin and Hunter Stevens had discovered a car abandoned in Tiller's Pond. The vehicle had been hauled out and found to be empty.
It was the last line of the piece that shook her to the core.
The owner of the vehicle, New Orleanian Luke McDougal, who had been heading from nearby Clinton to St. Francisville, had been reported missing by his girlfriend three weeks before. Anyone with information should call the West Feliciana Parish Sheriff's Department.
No body. Just like her brother.
Gwen's legs shook so badly she had to sit. She sank onto the edge of the bed and brought a hand to her mouth. A suicide. A murder. And two disappearances. The Seven were responsible for all three, she hadn't a doubt. Dr. Phillip Chauvin had been killed because he'd known too much about The Seven. Elaine St. Claire had been killed because of her lifestyle. Her brother had gotten too close to the group.
What about Luke McDougal? She shifted her gaze to the Gazette. According to the article, he had been passing through town. So what was his connection to the group? Was there a connection?
There had to be. McDougal's disappearance was too similar to her brother's. Car found, seemingly abandoned. No sign of its owner or of foul play.
Avery Chauvin had been at the scene. So had Hunter Stevens. Gwen drew her eyebrows together, curious. She had seen the man's name in connection with another news piece recently. She searched her memory a moment.
He had found Elaine St. Claire's body.
That was odd, even for a community as small as Cypress Springs. It seemed to her that the coincidental and unexplainable were piling up. As were the bodies-even if no one but she saw it.
She could be next.
Avery Chauvin had told her the same thing, though at the time it hadn't frightened her. Now she wondered if the woman meant the words as a warning. Or a threat.
Gwen fought the urge to flee. Fought to come to grips with the overwhelming sensation of being trapped. She had trusted Avery, even though she had known nothing about her. She had automatically assumed she could because Avery had only recently returned to Cypress Springs. And because of her father's suicide.
That hadn't been smart. Avery Chauvin could be sympathetic to The Seven. Their cause. Her father very well may have taken his own life, she had no physical evidence proving otherwise, just a gut feeling.
Gwen recalled Avery's surprise and denial to her assertions about The Seven. Her obvious, nearly palpable relief when Gwen had suggested her father's death might have been other than suicide. As if relieved to have an ally.
Avery could be in cahoots with The Seven, but she thought not.
Gwen stood and crossed to the window, lifted one of the blind's slats and peered out at the brilliant morning. People moved about- on their way to school, work, on errands. City workers were still cleaning up from the weekend festival, removing lights, combing the square for the last remnants of trash.
Though no one as much as glanced her way, she felt as if she was being watched. Her comings and goings recorded. Who she spoke with noted.
Action against her was being planned.
Shuddering, she stepped away from the window. She brought the heels of her hands to her eyes. She had been too vocal about The Seven. Had asked too many questions of too many people. She hadn't used caution.
In her zeal to uncover her brother's fate, she had put herself in harm's way. Just as her brother, in his zeal to prove his thesis, had. Would she, like Tom, simply disappear? Who would come looking for her if she did? Or would her end come via suicide? She could see the headline now: Sister, Despondent Over Disappearance of Brother, Takes Own Life.
Who would doubt she'd done it? Not her mother, who had slid so deeply into depression herself that she could hardly get out of bed in the morning. Not the shrink she had seen, who had prescribed antidepressants, then lectured her for not taking them.
Don't get paranoid. Just be careful.
She needed an ally. She needed someone she could trust. Someone who belonged here, in this community. Someone the citizens of Cypress Springs trusted. Who could poke around and ask questions. Someone skilled at ferreting out facts. A person who had a compelling, personal reason for wanting to help her.
Only one such person came to mind.
Avery Chauvin.
CHAPTER 25
Gwen quickly showered and dressed. She towel-dried her hair, grateful for her no-fuss cap of curls, slapped on a touch of makeup, grabbed her handbag and darted out. Avery, she'd noted, had taken to jogging early then stopping for breakfast at the Azalea Cafe.
It was a bit late, but if she was lucky she would catch Avery as she was leaving the cafe.
She was better than lucky, Gwen saw, spotting Avery through the cafe's picture window-it looked as if the other woman had just gotten her pancakes. She was deep in an animated conversation with Peg, the Azalea's owner.
Gwen stepped into the restaurant. At the jingle of the door open-ing, both the cafe's owner and Avery looked her way. Avery's smile faded.
Gwen pasted on a friendly smile and crossed to the booth. "Morning, Avery."
"Morning." She returned her attention to the other woman in an obvious rebuff.
They'd ended their last conversation if not on a friendly note, then one of growing respect. Avery had begun to believe in The Seven.
What had changed since then?
"Sit anywhere, hon," Peg interjected. "I'll be right with you."
Gwen hesitated, then nodded, choosing the table across the aisle from Avery. When the woman finished, she turned and took Gwen's order.
She asked for an English muffin and coffee, then watched Peg make her way back to the counter. When she reached it, she glanced back at Gwen, frown marring her forehead. Finding Gwen watching her, she smiled cheerfully and headed for the kitchen.
When the woman disappeared through the swinging doors, Gwen turned to Avery. "I was hoping I'd find you here."
Avery dug into her pancakes, not glancing her way.
"I really need to talk to you. It's important."
Avery looked at her then. "I don't want to talk to you. Please leave me alone."
"Did you have the chance to check out the facts I gave you when we spoke last?"
"I didn't realize you gave me any facts. I seem to remember unsubstantiated opinion and half-truths."
"If you would check-"
"I don't care to discuss this.'
"Did they get to you? Is that what's happened? Did they threaten you with-"
Avery cut her off. "I don't know if you're delusional or just mean-spirited, but I've had enough."
"I'm neither, I promise you that. As a journalist-"
"I'm a good journalist. I test premise against facts. I don't twist the facts to make them sensational. I don't bend them to fit my own personal needs."
"If you would just listen."
"I listened too much already." Avery leaned toward her. "What you told me about The Seven were untruths. Yes, The Seven existed, but not as you described them. Yes, they were a group of civic-minded residents. But not a secret tribunal that spied and passed judgment on their fellow' citizens. They called themselves Seven Citizens Who Care. They started a drug and alcohol awareness program in the schools and tried to get families back to church. My pastor was a member, for heaven's sake. So was Lilah Stevens. I suggest you check your facts, Ms. Lancaster."
>
"That's not true! Who told you this? Who-"
"It doesn't matter." Avery tossed her napkin on the table and slid out of the booth, pancakes hardly touched. "Put it on my tab, Peg," she called. "I need some fresh air."
Gwen stifled a sound of distress, jumped up and started after her, nearly colliding with Peg. The woman jumped back. The coffee she carried sloshed over the cup's side. With a cry of pain, she dropped the cup; it hit the floor and shattered.
Gwen apologized, but didn't stop. She made it out of the restaurant and onto the street moments after Avery.
"Wait!" she shouted. "I haven't told you everything."
Avery stopped and turned slowly. She met Gwen's gaze, the expression in hers resigned. "Don't you get it? I don't want to hear anything else you have to say. I love this town and the people who live here."
"Even if they killed your father? Would you love them then?"
For the space of a heartbeat, the other woman didn't move, didn't seem to breathe. Then she shook her head. "I see now how desperate you are. To stoop that low. Be so…cruel. I feel sorry for you, Gwen Lancaster."
"I can ask that question," Gwen went on, knowing her time was limited, that the other woman would bolt any moment, "because they killed my brother."
"Nice try, but-"
"It was the same as with Luke McDougal. His car was found. No sign of violence. He was just…gone."
Gwen became aware of the volume of her voice, of the number of people around. Of who might be watching…and listening. She closed the distance between them.
"Tom Lancaster," she continued softly. "The Gazette ran a piece about his disappearance. It was about the size of the one they ran about McDougal's. Wednesday, February 6, this year. I have my own copy but you'd probably think I found some way to manufacture it."
Gwen glanced at the cafe's front window and found Peg there, peering out at them. She shifted her gaze. A CSPD patrolman seemed to be paying more attention to them than to the driver he was ticketing; she glanced toward the square. The old man on the bench across the street was openly watching them over the top of his newspaper.
In Silence Page 15
