The Forgiven

by Amanda Stevens

  “I don’t want to do that. There’s no reason to change our plans. I think it’s more important than ever that we’re together.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  She drew a long breath. “Because there’s something else I haven’t told you. Taryn wants to find out who killed her mother. She says she has someone helping her, and I’m worried who it might be. I’m worried what happened to me...might happen to her.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The next afternoon, Alex took a chopper out to one of Ventura’s offshore drilling rigs, ostensibly to try and lay the groundwork for negotiations that would hopefully ward off a strike that had been threatening for weeks. But his real reason lay buried in the company’s personnel files he’d had his secretary scour all morning.

  The day was hot and clear, with unlimited visibility and sunlight glimmering on the whitecaps. The helicopter skimmed over the water, heading due south, toward a black dot on the horizon. As it neared the drilling platform, Alex stared out the window. It never failed to amaze him, the lengths humans would go to for energy. The Gulf waters were relatively mild most of the time, but Alex had seen the aftermath of a drilling rig that had been torn apart by a sudden squall in the North Sea. The crews barely had time to evacuate before the platform had collapsed into the sea.

  He could see men down there now, going about their duties. Some of them glanced up as the chopper circled, and then the pilot vectored in on the landing platform.

  The moment they touched down, Alex removed his headset and climbed out. Leaning forward, he hurried from beneath the rotating blades as a man came out to meet him.

  “Mr. DeWitt?” The man extended his hand. “Larry Crawford.”

  Alex shook hands with him. “Ray Beauchamp worked on your crew?”

  “Yeah. Come on inside. I’ve got what you wanted to see.”

  Alex followed the man down a narrow, noisy passageway. The platform was huge and well anchored, but Alex could feel the pull of the sea, the slight sway beneath his feet when he tried to stand still. When he’d worked on a similar rig twenty years ago, he’d been one of the lucky few who’d adapted quickly, but there’d been plenty who hadn’t. Seasickness was common, and the hours were grueling and stressful. They’d worked in shifts, twenty-four, seven for three weeks straight, and then a week off. Some of the men never came back after that first stint. But the money had been good, and Alex had been able to save enough to put himself through college.

  Crawford’s office was small and messy, and he made a swipe at some papers on his desk as he sat down. “Have a seat.”

  Alex remained standing. “You’ve got Ray Beauchamp’s personal effects?”

  Crawford bent down, picked up a cardboard box from the floor, then dropped it on his desk with a thud. “This is it. Everything that was in his locker.”

  “Have the police contacted you?”

  Crawford rubbed a hand along his chin where gray bristles were starting to show. “I hadn’t talked to anybody until your secretary called this morning. That’s the first I’d heard about Ray.”

  “Was he due back yesterday morning?”

  “Yeah, he’d been off for a week. You never knew if he was going to turn back up or not. I wasn’t especially surprised when he didn’t.”

  “If he was that unreliable, why’d you keep him on?”

  Crawford rubbed his chin again. “Because, as you can see, the accommodations out here aren’t exactly what you’d call commodious. Some people can’t take it. We have fellows coming and going all the time. That’s why, when you get somebody like Ray, you’re willing to put up with some crap just to keep him on. Say what you will about him, but he was the best damn welder I ever saw.”

  Alex rifled through the box of Ray Beauchamp’s personal effects. There wasn’t much. A paperback novel, a couple of Penthouse magazines, some odds and ends of clothing.

  “According to his personnel file, he’d only been working for Ventura a few months,” he said.

  “That’s right. But he had prior experience. That’s why I hired him on. He’d worked these rigs for years.”

  Alex glanced up. “Did you know him before he came to work for Ventura?”

  “Yeah, we both used to work for Exxon, years and years ago.”

  “Did you know anything about his personal life, his family? Anything like that?”

  Crawford shrugged. “Not really. He stayed pretty much to himself. There was one time, though, we ended up on the same rotation. We were off the same week. When we got back to town, he took me to some seedy bar down in the Quarter for a few drinks. He got to talking after a couple. He told me this story about his old man. The guy was a New Orleans cop a long time ago, and he up and went crazy one night, chopped up Ray’s mama with a butcher knife, right there in front of Ray and his sisters. He would have killed them, too, Ray said, if his older sister hadn’t gotten them out of the house. Turned out, the old man had killed a whole bunch of other people before that. Some kind of damn serial killer, I guess. He got sent up, but they didn’t keep ‘em on death row like they do now. Fried ‘em pretty quick back then. Ray said he and his sisters watched the old man get the juice. After that, the two girls changed their names, because of what their old man did. But Ray...” Crawford shook his head. “He acted like he was kinda proud of it.”

  “He tell you anything else?”

  Crawford shrugged. “No. And to tell you the truth, I never knew whether to believe him or not. He told it dead serious, but like I said, he’d had a couple of drinks. Any more than a couple, and Ray got real mean.”

  “Do you know if his sisters are still alive?”

  “Ray said one of them was still living in New Orleans, but like I said, that was years ago. I don’t know if she’s still there or not. I didn’t associate with him much after that night. He quit his job a few weeks later, and I never saw him again until he turned up here.”

  “You’re sure this is everything that was in his locker?” Alex asked, closing the flaps on the box.

  Crawford hesitated. “Look, I know you’ve got a lot of clout with Ventura, and if you say this is none of my business, that’s the end of it as far as I’m concerned. But I can’t help wondering what your interest is in Ray Beauchamp, why you came all the way out here to look at a few puny possessions. You figure Ventura might have some liability where that woman he attacked is concerned?”

  “That woman he attacked is my fianc;aaee,” Alex said.

  Crawford looked astonished. “You don’t say. Nobody told me anything about that.” He sat back and whistled. “Man, she must be one helluva woman, is all I can say, if she got the better of ol’ Ray Beauchamp.”

  “She is,” Alex said, and realized he meant it.

  Crawford looked suddenly nervous. “All right, there is something else. Something I didn’t put in that box. But I don’t want you to think I kept it for myself. I was afraid if I put it in with all that other junk, it might just walk off, if you get my drift. And I kinda had in mind to try and find Ray’s sisters when I got the time. Give it to one of them.”

  “What is it?”

  Crawford unlocked his desk drawer, pulled out a plastic bag and handed it to Alex. “I don’t know much about jewelry, but it looks pretty real to me. Where do you figure a guy like Ray Beauchamp got something like that?”

  Alex unzipped the bag and let the ring slide into his palm. Light from a window behind Crawford’s desk sparkled off the diamonds that surrounded an exotic blue gemstone. A Kashmir sapphire, the exact shade of Aubree’s eyes.

  * * *

  ON FRIDAY MORNING, Naomi stood before the full-length mirror in the bedroom of her suite and critiqued her appearance. Did she look like a bride? she wondered nervously. She certainly felt like one. The butterflies in her stomach had been going wild ever since she’d awakened at five o’clock that morning.

  She’d shopped for hours the day before, finally coming across a boutique on Royal Street that carried a collection of the most femi
nine, romantic dresses she’d ever seen. After hours of deliberation, she’d finally settled on a two-piece ivory silk brocade, simple in design but exquisitely cut. It fit like a dream, and as Naomi stared at herself in the mirror, she wondered what Alex would think. Would he like it? Would he think her beautiful?

  As beautiful as Aubree?

  Stop it! she chided herself. This wasn’t even a real wedding. What did it really matter what Alex thought? The only reason they were getting married was because of Taryn.

  Then why did it feel like a real wedding? A little voice persisted. Why was she spending so much time fussing with her appearance? Why was she so apprehensive about...tonight?

  What would he expect of her?

  Naomi grew even more nervous thinking about it. She’d only been with one man in her entire life, and that had been years ago, when she was just a teenager. And Clay Willis had hardly been a man of the world. He hadn’t taught her a thing about the fine art of seduction, but merely how cramped and uncomfortable lovemaking could be in the back seat of a car.

  Would she be able to please Alex? Did she even want to try?

  What if he didn’t expect anything of her? What if he really wanted a marriage in name only?

  No, no, that kiss proved otherwise, didn’t it?

  Oh, she was making herself crazy, and she had to stop thinking about it before she changed her mind about the whole thing.

  A knock sounded on the door, and Naomi started. She hadn’t slept well all week, not since the attack, and she told herself, as she went to answer the door, that it was perfectly natural she’d be jittery. Someone had tried to murder her, and now days later, she was getting married to a man she’d known just over a week. She’d be concerned about herself if she wasn’t on edge.

  Glancing through the peephole, she saw a man wearing the maroon blazer with the monogrammed S on the breast pocket, which signified the Spencer staff. She drew back the door, and the man smiled as he offered her a package.

  “This just came for you, Miss Cross.”

  When she took the box, he didn’t wait for a tip. “Have a nice day,” he said cheerfully.

  Naomi carried the package into her suite and sat down on the sofa to open it. It was beautifully wrapped in delicate silver tissue paper trimmed with a silver-and-white bow. With trembling fingers, she tore it open, and then when she saw the blue velvet box inside, she grew even more excited.

  Opening the hinged lid, she breathed a silent “Oh!” as she stared down at the single strand of pearls. They reminded her of moonbeams, lustrous and delicate. And the diamond stations that went all the way around glittered like starlight.

  The card inside said simply, “Alex,” and without quite knowing why, Naomi burst into tears, completely ruining her makeup.

  * * *

  “WILL YOU STOP that infernal pacing?” Foley demanded. “One would think you’re a real bridegroom with honest-to-goodness prenuptial jitters.”

  “I am a real bridegroom,” Alex snapped. “And since this was your idea, I’d think you’d be a little more understanding.”

  “Oh, I feel sorry for you, buddy. I really do.” Foley clapped him on the shoulder. “Having to be married to a woman who looks like Naomi Cross—jeez. You must be really dreading the wedding night.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Alex muttered, but in truth, he’d been thinking of little else all morning. Not that he was dreading his wedding night with Naomi. Far from it. He just didn’t want to appear too eager. He didn’t want to make her nervous or frighten her. She’d been through a terrible ordeal, and she needed patience and understanding. He just didn’t feel all that patient at the moment.

  And, of course, the fact that he hadn’t told her about Aubree’s ring being in Ray Beauchamp’s possession was also weighing on him. He’d thought about going to the police with the information, but Alex didn’t trust James Robicheaux. Somehow he knew that Robicheaux would find a way to turn the tables and implicate Alex. After all, Ray Beauchamp worked for Ventura.

  So instead, Alex had gotten in touch with Naomi’s private detective. Whether it had been the right thing to do or not, he had no idea.

  He turned to Foley. “What time is it?”

  “Two minutes later than the last time you asked me. Relax. She’ll be here.”

  “She’s late, isn’t she?”

  “Only a couple of minutes.”

  What if she wasn’t coming? What if she’d changed her mind?

  Alex’s gaze drifted across the room to where Taryn sat quietly reading a book. He hadn’t been certain she’d actually come today even though she’d reluctantly agreed to be Naomi’s maid of honor. She’d been strangely subdued all week. Rather than reacting with shock and indignation about Alex’s sudden decision to marry, she’d continued to show nothing but indifference. When he’d tried to talk to her about it, she’d just shrugged and said philosophically, “You’re a grown man. You can do whatever you want.”

  “But I don’t want to make you unhappy.”

  “I’m not unhappy. I have my own life.”

  And that was exactly what worried Alex. What was going on inside that head of hers? Was she really trying to find out who’d killed her mother? Could she really be in danger, as Naomi seemed to think?

  A shiver of dread coursed through him. If anything happened to Taryn...if anything happened to Naomi...

  He had to find some answers, and fast.

  Foley tapped him on the shoulder and he turned. Naomi had just come into the outer office of the judge’s chambers, and the moment Alex spotted her, his heart stopped.

  Beside him, Foley muttered under his breath, “Lord have mercy—”

  But Alex tuned him out. He tuned everything out as he walked over to Naomi. They might have been the only two people in the room. “I was worried there for a minute you’d changed your mind.”

  “No, I just...” She touched the pearls at her throat. “Thank you for my gift. They’re beautiful.”

  “You do them justice,” he said, then cleared his throat. An awkwardness came over them both, and suddenly Alex didn’t have a clue what to say to her.

  Naomi saw Taryn, and her eyes, as always, lit in pleasure. “She came.”

  Alex didn’t say anything, but his throat tightened as he watched Naomi glide across the room and sit down beside his daughter. They had the same dark hair, the same brown eyes. He’d never noticed before how much they resembled each other. Like mother and daughter.

  And in that moment, he knew. A fist of pain closed over his heart.

  * * *

  TARYN GLANCED UP when Naomi sat down beside her. She didn’t smile, but her gaze was neither hostile nor friendly. She looked a bit...confused.

  “I’m glad you came today,” Naomi told her.

  Taryn tossed back her dark hair. “I told you I would.”

  “I know. But under the circumstances, I would have understood if you’d changed your mind.”

  Taryn merely shrugged, but Naomi couldn’t help wondering if the short, black dress Taryn had chosen to wear was her own subtle way of conveying her displeasure.

  “Taryn, there’s something I want to say to you,” Naomi began tentatively.

  The dark eyes, so like Sadie’s, turned on her. “Let me guess. You aren’t going to try to take my mother’s place, but you hope eventually we can become good friends.”

  Naomi smiled ruefully. “One would almost think you’d been through this before.”

  “No. But what else is there to say?”

  Naomi got the message loud and clear. Taryn wasn’t going to protest this marriage, but she wasn’t going to welcome Naomi with open arms, either. It wasn’t going to be easy, but maybe in time...what? They’d become friends? Naomi wanted more than that. So much more.

  “I have something for you.” She opened her handbag and withdrew a tiny, gold-wrapped package.

  Taryn looked surprised. “What is it?”

  “Open it and see.”

  She took the package,
but her gaze remained skeptical. “You didn’t have to buy me a present.”

  “It’s customary for the bride to give something to her maid of honor. Go on.” Naomi nodded to the package. “Open it.”

  Taryn reluctantly tore away the paper and opened the lid of the jeweler’s box. Inside, nestled against black velvet, was a tiny butterfly charm suspended from a delicate gold chain that sparkled brilliantly when Taryn lifted it. The tiny wings were encrusted with gemstones no bigger than the head of a pin.

  Naomi had found it yesterday while she’d been shopping for earrings to match her dress. The moment she’d seen the pendant, she’d wanted it desperately for Taryn. She’d forgotten all about the earrings.

  “It’s beautiful.” Taryn’s dark eyes shimmered with what might have been tears, but she quickly glanced away.

  “Shall I fasten it for you?”

  “It doesn’t exactly match what I’m wearing,” she muttered, but she handed the chain to Naomi and pulled aside her hair.

  Naomi’s fingers trembled as she struggled with the tiny clasp, and she thought to herself that she would do anything, anything, to have more moments like this.

  And then it was time to go inside, and before Naomi could even begin to have second thoughts, the ceremony was over. She and Alex exchanged their vows, and when she looked down as he slipped a ring onto her finger, she saw the sparkle of yet more diamonds. A girl could get used to this, she thought dizzily.

  When it was her turn to slip the ring she’d bought for Alex on his finger, she was relieved that it slid over his knuckle without effort. Almost as if it was meant to be. He bent to kiss her, a brief closing ritual, nothing more, but Naomi’s lips parted automatically, and she heard him catch his breath.

  For just a moment, the kiss deepened. His arms tightened around her, and Naomi closed her eyes, relishing the moment. She could feel his heart beating against hers, and an image flashed through her mind. The two of them together, tonight, in an even more intimate embrace.

  When he released her, their gazes clung, and Naomi could have sworn she saw her own fantasy reflected in the depths of his eyes.