Blood and Bone

by Dawn Brown

  At last she turned to face him, her thin lips pulled back into a smile, exposing yellowed teeth too large for her thin face. Her appearance surprised him. He’d managed to avoid her for nearly three months. While having heard about her illness from Ian, he’d yet to see the results in person.

  Sickness had left Heddi shrunken and haggard, but despite having been ravaged by disease those black eyes gleamed from her gaunt face.

  “You look awful,” she said, gazing up at him.

  Funny, I was thinking the same about you. “I know.”

  “Sit down,” she ordered. “I’ve no intention of craning my neck.”

  Des sat in the chair facing her, slouching to annoy her. Heddi ignored him and turned her attention outside to the slow-moving river. The morning sun glittered on the dark water like diamonds on black velvet.

  Another awkward silence settled between them. This was where she hoped people would talk, filling the void with idle chitchat or confessions for things she’d been previously unaware of. Why she bothered with him, he wasn’t sure. He hadn’t fallen for this since he was ten.

  “It’s been a long time since you’ve been here,” she said at last.

  His insides tightened, but he remained slouched, his expression relaxed.

  “A few months.” He shrugged.

  Again the silence. What was she hoping for? His body hummed with nervous anticipation.

  “I’m dying, you know,” she said as blandly as if she’d told him she planned to repaint the room.

  Good. “I heard.”

  “Stomach cancer,” she told him. “It’s eating my insides.”

  “What do you want, Heddi?”

  She smiled again, that horrible skeletal smile that made his skin crawl. “Have you no pity for a poor, old woman?”

  “I might if there were one here.”

  She laughed, but it sounded more like a dry cackle. “You’ll get nothing when I go. Not a cent.”

  “I’m glad we cleared that up. I guess I’ll be on my way now.”

  “You don’t care, do you?”

  Des slouched farther down in his chair and a smirk touched his mouth. “It’s a nonissue.”

  “A pity your sister couldn’t say the same.”

  His stomach jerked and his smile fell away. Malicious glee shone in her eyes—black eyes like a shark’s.

  He used to think of her as a shark, eager to tear into his flesh at the first scent of blood. Until one night after moving out from under Heddi’s thumb for the first time. He’d been living in a dumpy, one-room apartment, stoned from a joint he’d just smoked, eating Pringle’s potato chips from the tin on a stained futon mattress and watching a documentary about killer whales.

  They hunt in packs like wolves, positioning themselves over another whale and biting painfully small strips of flesh to keep their prey from surfacing and getting air. Eventually the other whale suffocates.

  That was how Heddi worked. Tearing off strips of flesh and keeping him from catching his breath. Only she didn’t need a pack. She was that vicious all on her own.

  “What do you want?” Des asked again, turning to look at Heddi. “I have to get to the office.”

  “Yes, of course. You’ll want to get to work. You do owe a considerable amount of money, after all. How’s your sister enjoying Bermuda? She and…what was his name? Kevin? Are they having a nice time?”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Good. It’s such a shame the way they’ve left you to pay the money back. They’d be in some real trouble were it not for you.”

  He wanted to laugh. Did she actually think she could get to him this way? Whatever Julia had done, she was away from here. Away from Heddi. Whatever he had to pay, it was worth it.

  “That’s the best you got? You’re slipping, Heddi.”

  Something flashed in her dark eyes. “Perhaps, though, she needed to get away from you. Do you ever wonder if when she looks at you, she sees your father? If you’re a large factor in her problems?”

  Closer to the mark this time. “Is this what you wanted to see me about?”

  “I have some work for you.”

  “Are you planning on selling the house?”

  “Stop being foolish. You’re a Grey, in your own way, and with that name comes a certain responsibility.”

  “Not interested.”

  “Our family built this town,” Heddi continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “The community looks to us for guidance.”

  “If you say so.”

  “When something or someone threatens what we’ve built, the Grey family must work to eradicate it.”

  “All of this is terribly fascinating, and yet I can’t bring myself to care.”

  “I understand you rented a cottage to a certain writer,” Heddi said, again ignoring him.

  Here it comes. “So?”

  “I can’t have her writing that book. Publishing our family business. I will not allow some hack writer to profit from what your father did to my Gwen.”

  “Of course not.” His stomach churned. He wanted to go home. “What did you want me to do about it?”

  Her lips pulled back into a feral smile. “Get rid of her.”

  Chapter Six

  “Gwendolyn’s first marriage, to Calvin Warren, was little more than a business arrangement. He gave her the family she longed for, and she gave him opportunity.”

  —excerpt from Blood and Bone by Shayne Reynolds

  Des gaped at the old woman grinning malevolently back at him. Heddi had finally completely lost her mind. “Excuse me?”

  “I want her out of this town.”

  The tension gripping him eased some. “I’m not the strong-arm type. Besides, isn’t that what you pay Hudson for?”

  “When I stopped her from taking a room at the hotel—”

  “I knew something was off there. That hotel is never booked to capacity. Hell, I don’t how the place stays in business. You must have paid them a good chunk of cash to refuse her reservation.” Shayne had been telling him the truth.

  “And it would seem I did, for nothing, since you found her such a quaint little cottage to rent.”

  He grinned. “I made a commission on that. You’ll see it in my next payment.”

  “How would you like to not make that payment?”

  Was she kidding? He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to get away from this place, from Heddi. Still, he held himself rigid, refusing to give in to the tiny ember of hope flickering inside him. “Go on.”

  “You do as I ask, and I’ll wipe the debt clean. Stopping that woman will be your final payment.”

  “That’s a very nice offer, but like I said, I’m not the strong-arm type.”

  She cackled and he half expected her to pull a broom out from under her chaise and fly away. “That’s not what I had in mind. I want to know to whom she’s talking to and what they’re saying. As for strong-arm tactics, I’ll take care of that.”

  “More visits from Hudson?” He’d never hated anyone in his life the way he hated her. Not even his father.

  “That’s not your concern.”

  “You’re right, it’s not. I don’t want anything to do with this. If you want a spy, find someone else.” He didn’t want Shayne writing her book anymore than the old bitch sitting next to him did, but he wouldn’t get involved in Heddi’s craziness, not even if it meant his freedom.

  “You are so much like Robert.” Her thin lips curled back in a sneer, but her words had remarkably little effect on him. Whenever he didn’t fall in line, she pulled out the same spiel. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. It could be worse. He could be like her.

  “What do you think this book will do to Julia? God knows what she saw, what hell she survived so you would live.”

  He stood and his stomach roiled from the ache in his head. He gritted his teeth, locking his jaw, determined not to throw up.

  “I won’t do it,” he said once certain he could keep his stomach contents at bay. His voice soun
ded hoarse, even to his own ears.

  He turned away from the malicious little skeleton and made his way to the door.

  “We’ll see.” Heddi’s voice, remarkably strong for someone so ill, followed him out.

  Shayne pressed the doorbell, stepped back and waited. The midmorning sun glared down on her shoulders, turning her skin hot beneath the thin fabric of her blouse and pants, and casting her faint reflection in the leaded window mounted in the door. Despite the warped glass and watery image, she could still see dark circles bruising the flesh beneath her eyes.

  She looked tired and worn out. Old. She sighed.

  Well, why wouldn’t she? She hadn’t slept. After dropping Des off, there hadn’t been time to catch a few hours’ rest, not if she wanted to be on time for her appointment. Not that she could have fallen asleep, anyway. After that kiss, her mind had been spinning too fast, her thoughts too turbulent. Her lips still tingled with memory as if permanently imprinted with his mouth.

  Pull it together, it was one kiss.

  A decent sleep and she would no doubt have the situation back in perspective. Thankfully, this interview with Gwendolyn’s first husband was the only thing she had scheduled for today. Once she finished here, she could head back and take a nap.

  The door before her swung open and Cal Warren’s imposing frame filled the narrow space. He had to be six feet tall, or more, his body trim beneath broad shoulders. His steel-gray hair, cut short, receded at the corners, creating a distinct widow’s peak. Hawkish features turned his already-stoic expression harsh.

  Shayne plastered on her best smile and extended her hand. “Mr. Warren, I’m Shayne Reynolds. Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.”

  “My pleasure.” But he didn’t look pleased, just the opposite, actually. His large hand gripped hers briefly before he stepped aside. “Come in.”

  Shayne nodded and stepped into a wide foyer. White walls, gray marble and a blast of frigid air conditioning left the room stark and cold. The sharp contrast from the blazing heat outside studded her bare arms with goose bumps.

  “I thought we could speak in my office,” Warren said.

  Her tight smile remained fixed in place, and her cheeks started to ache. “Wherever you’re most comfortable.”

  He nodded and led her through a door off the foyer and into a long, narrow room with dark green walls and gleaming wood furniture. The rich, reddish-brown wood of his desk and bookshelves matched the wide mantel framing a dark, gas fireplace. The cool air smelled faintly of his spicy cologne and old cigars.

  “Please, sit down,” Warren said, waving her toward one of the chairs before his desk.

  The burgundy leather creaked beneath her weight as she eased onto the seat. Warren settled himself into the throne-like chair behind the desk, laced his fingers and rested his hands on the pale green blotter.

  Shayne pulled her notepad and audio recorder from her bag. “Do you mind if I tape our conversation?”

  “No.” Warren held himself rigidly. His blue eyes stood out against his tanned skin. “I’d like to make something perfectly clear before we begin, though.”

  She stiffened, hoping he wouldn’t try to put restrictions on her work because he feared how he’d appear on the printed page. “What’s that?”

  His eyes narrowed and creased at the corners. His face was remarkably unlined for his age. Maybe he’d had work done. “With Anderson free, this book had better not be about some imagined miscarriage of justice, that poor Robert Anderson was railroaded.”

  Why would he even wonder? “I assure you, I work only with facts, not speculation.”

  “Have you spoken to Anderson?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he deny murdering them?”

  Anderson’s so-called envelope of proof popped into her head. Not that the articles inside meant anything to her, and after three messages, the man still hadn’t called her back. “The evidence and his confession say he’s responsible for the murders. That’s what I’ll be working from.”

  Warren nodded. “Good. Let’s begin.”

  Shayne set the recorder on the desk between them and balanced her notepad on her knee.

  “Can you tell me how you and Gwen met?”

  “Through mutual friends in our final year of university.”

  “Were you attracted to each other immediately, or did the relationship develop slowly?”

  He snorted. “Our marriage was not a love match, if that’s what you’re thinking. No love at first sight or any of that nonsense. She wanted to annoy her mother, and I wanted a shortcut.”

  Shayne looked up from her notes. “A shortcut?”

  “Gwen was being groomed to take over Heddi’s companies and I thought marrying her would help me get my foot in the door. Perhaps even take my wife’s place once we had children.”

  Shayne made notes on her pad, struggling to keep her expression impassive. Poor Gwen. Had she had any idea the man she married was merely using her? “And did marrying Gwen help you further your career?”

  He shook his head. “No. Heddi wouldn’t let me near her little empire. Even once Christian was born, Heddi wouldn’t have it. The only person she wanted in charge was Gwen. Heddi wouldn’t let her own son have any real power, just stuck him with some broken-down realty office. What chance did a mere son-in-law stand?”

  “When marriage and family didn’t get you what you wanted, how did you react?” Damn, even she’d heard the derision in her tone.

  A hard smile lit his face. “I was using her—you’re absolutely right—but don’t kid yourself, she was using me too. She wanted out from under her mother’s thumb, a family of her own. Like I said, our relationship wasn’t about love. Neither of us wanted that.”

  That may have been, but she had a feeling Cal had gotten the better end of the stick on that deal. “Gwen was aware of your feelings and motivations when you decided to marry?”

  “Of course. I think after we eloped, Gwen was disappointed Heddi didn’t disown her. The old hag still wanted to control every aspect of Gwen’s life, and once Julia was born, Heddi became more demanding.”

  “What changed with Julia’s birth?”

  “You’d have to ask Heddi to know for sure, but I suspect she saw her legacy continuing in Julia.”

  “Not with Christian?”

  A dry bark of laughter burst from his mouth. “No, not Christian. Heddi hates men. She has no use for them.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t have a clue, but she made no secret of her feelings for the opposite sex. She considered men weak and not to be trusted.”

  “With Heddi’s interfering, and your own hopes of gaining access to the company dashed, did you ever encourage Gwen to resign?” Shayne was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

  “No. She was making a lot of money. More than me, and I was VP of Finance for a major holdings company.”

  Right again. God, sometimes the predictability of human nature could be depressing. “What was happening in your marriage when Gwen met Robert?”

  “Nothing. Business as usual.”

  “How did you feel when you learned she was seeing someone else?”

  He sat back in his chair, a faint smirk on his face. “I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t have my concerns.” Warren kept his stare fixed on her face. Gauging her reaction, maybe. She refused to give him one. “After all, she only told me about Anderson once she was pregnant. She wanted a divorce so she could marry him.”

  “You were upset to learn about the affair?”

  “I couldn’t have cared less about her sleeping with the man. I’d been with other women almost from the word go.” He sounded like a high school kid trying to convince her he’d done the breaking up, not the other way around. “But I wasn’t pleased about the divorce. That wasn’t part of our arrangement. In the end, though, Gwen and I agreed to a settlement that was advantageous to us both.”

  “Which was?”

  “She gave me the money I needed t
o start my own business, and she took full custody of Christian and Julia.”

  “Did you see the children?”

  “A few times.”

  “A few times in three years?”

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and pressing his steepled fingers to his lips. “To be honest, I saw the children rarely. I was a lousy husband, but I was an even lousier father.”

  “Is that why you allowed Heddi to take custody of Julia after the murders?”

  “What would I do with an eight-year-old girl on my own?”

  Comfort her. Protect her. Be her father. For a moment her thoughts flitted to her own father. Critical he might be, but he loved her and her sisters. He would never have turned his girls over to someone else when they needed him most.

  “I know this may be difficult.” At least it would be if you experienced half-human emotion. “But could you take me through the moment you learned of the murders, and what you felt?”

  His rigid expression crumbled, and for a moment, he looked every one of sixty-four years, plastic surgery or not. But the flash of emotion was fleeting, his features turning hard so quickly she couldn’t be sure she’d seen it at all. “I was supposed to take the children that weekend, did you know that?”

  Shayne shook her head.

  “I canceled, as I had many times before. I had an important meeting with my investors the following Monday.” He swallowed hard and shifted his gaze. He was no longer looking at Shayne, but through her. “I was home working late, preparing for that meeting when someone knocked on the door. I felt sort of cold and sick. It was past midnight and no good news ever comes in the middle of the night. All the way to the door, I kept telling myself it was nothing, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something awful had happened.”

  He was quiet for a long moment, and Shayne took back some of her mean thoughts about his lack of feeling for his ex-wife and children. She may not agree with how he behaved, but the memories obviously had stayed with him. Haunted him.