The Forgiven

by Amanda Stevens

  Naomi tried to think back to that day, the day prior to Sadie’s disappearance. Had there been anything unusual? Strange cars in the neighborhood, strangers lurking about, anything? She’d been asked those questions over and over after Sadie vanished, and Naomi’s answer was still the same. She hadn’t noticed anything unusual. There had been nothing to warn her of the coming tragedy.

  Naomi hadn’t even known Aubree DeWitt existed back then, so what could her murder possibly have to do with Sadie’s disappearance?

  But could it really be a coincidence? Fifteen years ago, they gave birth at the same hospital. One of Naomi’s babies had been given to Aubree to raise as her own. Then five years later, on the day that Naomi’s other daughter disappeared, Aubree had been found brutally murdered. Naomi shivered, wondering in what other ways she and Aubree DeWitt had been connected.

  She clicked on the next headline to bring up another article. By the second day, Aubree’s murder had been relegated to page two, and by the third day, the reporter covering the story was already suggesting that the crime had left the authorities baffled, with no real suspects or concrete leads. There was evidence that the front door had been jimmied, but other than a sapphire ring, presumably taken from Aubree DeWitt’s finger after her death, nothing was missing. Robbery was the obvious motive, but the detective in charge of the case, a Lieutenant James Robicheaux, hinted darkly that he thought there might be a more personal motive.

  “I’ve promised Mrs. DeWitt’s father that her killer will be found,” Robicheaux was quoted. “And it’s a promise I have every intention of keeping. I won’t rest until Aubree DeWitt’s murderer is brought to justice.”

  Naomi sat for a moment, trying to digest all that she’d read. Even if Aubree’s murder and Sadie’s disappearance were coincidental, there was still the matter of Taryn’s suppressed memories that worried Naomi. What if the killer had been someone Aubree knew, and what if Taryn had seen him that night? She’d said she had someone helping her in her search, and Naomi couldn’t help wondering who that person might be.

  Jotting down James Robicheaux’s name in her book, Naomi clicked off the computer and left the library with even more questions than before. She drove back to her hotel in a somber mood, and as she bathed and dressed for her dinner date with Alex that evening, a lingering premonition settled over her.

  By discovering who had killed Aubree DeWitt, she might also learn who had stolen her baby fifteen years ago. She might even find out who had taken Sadie. But in uncovering the truth, she could be putting herself and Taryn in terrible danger. How much was the truth worth?

  Trying to shake off her growing disquiet, Naomi studied her reflection in the full-length mirror on the closet door. She’d brought only two dresses suitable for dinner, the best of which she’d worn the night before. But she couldn’t very well wear it again, so the light blue linen sheath she’d purchased from the clearance rack at Lawson’s Department Store would have to do.

  The dress was fine, she decided, although the hemline was a little shorter than she preferred. Frowning at her image, she remembered the photo she’d seen in the newspaper of Aubree DeWitt. Elegant, classy, confident.

  “This isn’t a contest,” Naomi muttered. What did it matter what she wore? Or what Alex DeWitt thought of her, for that matter? Her only concern at the moment was Taryn.

  She started to fasten a strand of faux pearls around her neck, then remembering the sparkle of diamonds—genuine, Naomi was certain—around Aubree’s throat in the photograph, she changed her mind and tossed the beads back into her suitcase.

  This time she arrived downstairs ahead of Alex. She waited in the air-conditioned lobby until she saw him crossing the street from where he’d parked, and only then did she go out to meet him.

  His dark gaze settled on her appreciatively for a moment before he glanced away. He seemed nervous, Naomi thought.

  “I’ve made reservations at Antoine’s,” he said. “It’s a few blocks over on St. Louis. We can probably save time by walking, but if you prefer, my car’s just across the street.”

  “I don’t mind walking.” In Naomi’s opinion, a stroll would be preferable to the close confines of his car. But as they walked along, their shoulders kept accidentally brushing, and once, Alex took her arm to steer her out of the way of a particularly noisy group of tourists in front of the Royal Street Caf;aae. Naomi almost jumped at the sudden contact.

  A solicitous ma;afitre d’ showed them to an intimate table for two, and Alex placed their drink orders. The cocktails arrived moments later and she sipped her drink nervously. “Why did you want to see me tonight?”

  “Let’s have dinner first,” he suggested. “We’ll talk later.”

  She lifted her eyebrows at his tone. “Should I be worried?”

  His gaze on her faltered. “I guess that depends on your perspective,” he muttered. Then shrugging, he said, “It’s nothing to worry about. Relax and enjoy your dinner. Have you ever been to Antoine’s?”

  Naomi glanced around at the elegant establishment. “No. My sister and I used to come to New Orleans sometimes, but we never ate here.” It was far too expensive for their budget, but Naomi had a feeling Alex came here often, or at least, to places like this. He seemed quite at ease in the refined surroundings.

  “Antoine’s was established in 1840,” he told her. “Some of the dishes you’ll see on the menu are the same ones that have been served here for generations.”

  “It’s a beautiful restaurant,” Naomi murmured, still wondering why he’d brought her here, and why he seemed so intent on charming her. Reluctantly she let her gaze flicker over him. He looked very handsome tonight, as elegant and refined in his dark suit and silk tie as their surroundings. But as always, he wore an air of mystique that was as enticing, and possibly as lethal, as the cocktails they sipped.

  Naomi shivered and tore her gaze away. She tried to relax and enjoy the meal. The food, starting with the hors d’ouevres, was delicious, the service excellent, and she wanted to savor the evening. It wasn’t often that she dined out in such luxury. But she was so apprehensive she could hardly eat a bite.

  Alex appeared to suffer from no such malady. He ate heartily, and all through dinner, made small talk designed, Naomi was sure, to put her at ease.

  She suspected the whole evening was leading up to something momentous, and that made her even more uneasy.

  “I seem to recall that you mentioned a sister,” he said.

  She nodded. “Abby. She recently moved away from Eden.” Loneliness settled over Naomi. She and Abby had always been so close, but now her sister was embarking on a great adventure, both in her personal life and in her profession. She was leaving Naomi behind, but if anyone was entitled to happiness, it was Abby. Naomi couldn’t imagine a more loyal and loving sister. “She’s been accepted at the FBI Academy at Quantico.”

  “You must miss her,” he said.

  “I do. She’s the only—” Naomi had almost said that her sister was the only family she had left, but that wasn’t true any longer. Now she had Taryn, whether Alex wanted to admit it or not.

  As if reading her mind, he fell into a thoughtful silence, and they lingered over coffee, both of them declining dessert.

  “Are you sure? You haven’t lived until you’ve experienced Antoine’s Cherries Jubilee.”

  “Maybe next time.” After their waiter disappeared, Naomi said anxiously, “Can you tell me now why you wanted to see me tonight?”

  He stirred his coffee with great deliberation. When he looked up, his expression was ambiguous. “May I ask you a personal question?”

  She shrugged. “You can ask.”

  “Where is your daughters’ father?”

  “He’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry,” Alex said quickly.

  “Don’t be sorry. At least not for me.” Naomi hesitated, then said, “His name was Clay Willis. I fell in love with him our senior year in high school. He was handsome, popular, athletic. Every girl�
�s dream, or so I thought. He persuaded me to give up my virginity one night in the back seat of his father’s Oldsmobile. A month later, on graduation night, I had to tell him I was pregnant. He left town the next day and joined the army. I never saw him again. A few years later, I heard that he’d been killed in a helicopter accident.”

  A frown flickered across Alex’s brow. What was he thinking? Naomi wondered. That hers was an old story? That she’d been young and foolish just like a million other teenage girls? Was she somehow diminished in his eyes now that he knew the sordid truth?

  “What about his family?” he asked casually, but Naomi knew nothing about this evening was incidental.

  “There was only his mother, and she moved back up north after Clay left town. I never heard from her again, either. So if you’re worried that someone else might show up to claim parental rights, don’t be.”

  Alex’s expression hardened. “I wish I could say the same about others.”

  “Me, you mean.”

  “Actually, I was referring to Joseph Bellamy. He’s the reason I wanted to see you tonight.”

  “I don’t understand.” Naomi took a sip of her coffee. The liquid scalded her throat, but the strong, chicory brew was also bracing.

  “It’s simple.” Alex leaned slightly toward her, his gaze deeply compelling. A tremor coursed through Naomi at his nearness. “If Joseph and Gwen Bellamy are able to persuade a court to grant them sole custody of my daughter, then neither you nor I will ever see her again.”

  Naomi’s heart started to pound in earnest. “Are you saying...that you think I have a right to see her? Are you saying you believe she’s my daughter?”

  He sat back abruptly. “I’m not saying anything of the kind.”

  “Then why am I here?” Naomi asked in frustration.

  A dozen emotions flashed across his face, as if he were in the throes of some deep internal conflict he hadn’t yet decided how to resolve. Finally he said, “I’ve discussed my options at some length with my attorney. He seems to think the fact that I’m a single father, that I’ve taken Taryn out of the country, failed to provide a stable home life for her, might work against me in court.”

  Why was he telling her this? Naomi wondered nervously. Didn’t he understand that he was providing her with ammunition? Or was he that confident she posed no threat to him?

  “Could you please just get to the point?” she said with an edge of resentment.

  “All right.” He drew a breath as his gaze met hers. “I asked you to dinner tonight because I have a proposal for you.”

  Naomi frowned. “What kind of proposal?”

  “A marriage proposal.”

  The world as Naomi knew it stopped at that moment. The murmur of voices around the room faded, drowned out by the dull roaring inside her head. She couldn’t have heard him correctly. The shock of learning that Aubree DeWitt had been murdered the day before Sadie disappeared ten years ago had affected her more than she realized. She was hearing things. Imagining things.

  “I beg your pardon,” she said in a near whisper.

  “I want you to marry me.”

  Stunned, Naomi tried to rise, but his hand shot out and caught her wrist. “Please,” he said. “Just hear me out.”

  She glanced around helplessly, as if expecting one of the other diners to come to her rescue. But they were all oblivious to the drama unfolding before them.

  Naomi glanced at Alex across the candlelit table. “If you’re not joking,” she said shakily, “then you must be crazy.”

  He shook his head slowly. “I assure you, I’m neither. Just give me a minute to explain.”

  Her hand fluttered to her throat. “Maybe you’d better.”

  “You’re not going to faint or anything like that?” he asked in sudden alarm.

  She gave him an ironic glance. “I’m made of sterner stuff than that. I hardly think a marriage proposal, even my first one, would cause me to swoon.”

  Something flashed in Alex’s eyes, but he didn’t comment. He waved off the waiter who hovered nearby.

  “My lawyer says that if I were to remarry, if I could prove to the court that I am providing a stable home life for Taryn that is equal to what the Bellamys could provide, then a judge would be less likely to remove her from my custody.”

  “And what makes you think I would go along with such a...scheme?” Naomi asked harshly. She had her own relationship with Taryn to worry about. If Alex and Joseph Bellamy bloodied each other enough in court, perhaps that could work to her advantage.

  Alex seemed to understand exactly what she was thinking. “You may not have made the decision yet, but at some point, you’ll want custody yourself. Or at least visitation rights.” He put up a hand when she started to interrupt. “But even if a DNA test proves that Taryn is your birth daughter, you could still lose in court. A judge could refuse to take her away from the only family she’s ever known. He could even decide that visitation rights would be too damaging. And then you’d be left with nothing. What I’m offering you is a chance to be with Taryn, regardless of the outcome of a DNA test or a judge’s ruling. You’d be living in the same house with her. You would, in effect, be a mother to her.”

  The impact of his words slammed into Naomi, and she felt the breath rush up out of her lungs. She sat back in her chair, breathless, as images danced through her head. She and Taryn shopping together, laughing together, doing all the things that a mother and teenage daughter were supposed to do together. All the things that Naomi had never gotten to do with Sadie.

  But now she’d found her other daughter. Now she had a chance to be a mother again. She had a chance to hold her precious child in her arms.

  Tears burned Naomi’s eyes. Would it matter so terribly much if Taryn never knew who her real birth mother was?

  That thought drew her up short. Was that it? Was that the real reason Alex wanted to marry her? So that she would agree to never tell Taryn the truth?

  She felt herself go almost rigid with fury. “Even if I were to agree to such a ludicrous plan, I’d still want a DNA test. I’d still want to know the truth about my daughter. And someday I’d want her to know the truth about me.”

  Anger flashed in Alex’s eyes, but he was more adept at controlling his emotions than Naomi. “I realize that,” he said in a careful tone. “After we’re married, I won’t object to a DNA test.”

  Naomi was still in a state of shock. She was trembling all over. There had to be a catch. There had to be something more.

  “Look,” Alex said. “I know this is a shock, but when you have time to think about it, you’ll realize that it’s not a bad plan. This way, we both stand a good chance of keeping Taryn. And it’s not as if I’m asking for a lifetime commitment.”

  She glanced up.

  His gaze on her was steady, measuring. His voice lowered sympathetically. “I can see how that might concern you, but in three years, Taryn will be eighteen, old enough to decide for herself who she wants to live with. You and I can divorce then and go our separate ways. But in three years, you would have had ample time to form a very secure bond with her.”

  Yes, Naomi thought, her stomach quivering at the prospect. She would be able to form a bond with her daughter, but she would also be able to watch over her. To protect her.

  As it had since the evening before, Taryn’s vow came back to haunt Naomi. “I’ve made a promise to myself. I’m going to find out who killed my mother...no matter what I have to do.”

  “I don’t expect you to give me an answer tonight. Take some time to think about it,” he said.

  Naomi’s gaze lifted. “I don’t need time. I can give you my answer right now.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The next few days passed in a blur for Naomi. Once she gave Alex her answer, he immediately set about taking care of all the details. He arranged for a marriage license and contacted a judge who agreed to conduct the ceremony in his chambers on Friday of the following week. They met with Alex’s attorney, Foley
Boudrieux, to iron out all the legal considerations. If he and Alex had thought she would balk at signing a prenuptial agreement, they must have been greatly surprised. Naomi cared nothing about Alex’s money. Taryn was her only concern.

  However, Alex insisted on setting up a checking account for her, but Naomi knew she wouldn’t touch the money except for necessities. She had a little nest egg put away, mostly money she’d inherited from an insurance policy after her mother died. It wasn’t much, and hiring a private detective to locate Taryn had cut into it severely, but she still had enough left to give her a sense of independence. Relying solely on Alex for support seemed a little too much to Naomi like she’d been bought and paid for.

  At Foley’s suggestion, she and Alex began spending a great deal of time together, for appearance’ sake. They had dinner with each other almost every night, and Alex always took her to one of the city’s famous restaurants—Commander’s Palace, Galatoire’s, Court of Two Sisters—where they were sure to be seen together.

  One night, he even invited her to his home, and Naomi, following his directions, had been enchanted as she’d driven through the Garden District. She and Abby had toured the area once aboard a streetcar, and she’d been duly impressed by the large homes and the oak-lined streets. But the knowledge that she would be living in one of those houses soon with her daughter made Naomi look at the neighborhood in a whole new light.

  The house on Octavia Street was everything Naomi had imagined it to be and more. Live oaks dripping with Spanish moss stood sentinel along a narrow driveway, while huge azalea bushes, which would be breathtaking in the spring, crowded thickly against the front of the house. The inside was all high ceilings, polished oak floors, and through floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, Naomi saw the sparkle of a swimming pool in back.

  Alex had already told Taryn about their marriage plans, and although her manner was aloof and faintly resentful, she managed to be polite if not enthusiastic when Naomi asked her to be her maid of honor.

  “I’m not sure I can get out of school,” she said with a shrug.