by Sharon Sala
Erin glanced at her watch and called it.
“Time of death, 3:15 p.m.”
Talia took that deep breath her father had not needed as she laid her hand on the crown of his head.
“Rest in peace, Dad. You have so earned it.”
She was crying again, but Bowie didn’t think she knew it.
“What happens now, Erin? Is there anything I can do?” he asked.
Erin glanced at Talia.
“Maybe you could take her outside on the back porch for a bit. I’ll need some warm water, and a towel and washcloth. I’ll notify the funeral home. Talia already gave me all the necessary information. This much I can do for her.”
Talia realized this was where her path with her father ended. Wherever Marshall went from here, she could not follow.
“I’ll get the bath stuff for you,” Talia said.
“I’ll help,” Bowie said. As soon as they had everything Erin needed, Bowie took her hand. “Let’s go sit in your porch swing, okay?”
She glanced at her dad and then nodded.
Bowie grabbed a cold bottle of Pepsi from the refrigerator as they passed through the kitchen.
Talia settled in the porch swing, and Bowie slid onto the seat beside her. He unscrewed the lid on the pop and handed it to her. She took a drink, and then handed the bottle back to him and leaned against his shoulder.
“Oh, Bowie,” she said softly, and then let go of everything she’d been trying to hide.
It was over, and she didn’t know how to feel, only that she couldn’t hold back the tears. They marked her relief. They stood for the joy that her father was no longer suffering, and at the same time, they were mute reminders of the years she would never get back.
Bowie set the Pepsi aside and held her. By the time the hearse from the funeral home arrived, she’d cried herself out. When they went back inside, once again Talia had to watch others take charge of her father’s body.
Mr. Monroe, the funeral director, was talking to her, but they were moving her father’s body to a gurney, and she felt like she should tell him goodbye. Instead, she got the garment bag from her father’s bedroom that held the clothing they would need to ready him for burial. She handed it over and then tuned everything out. She didn’t know how long she’d been standing there when she realized Mr. Monroe was repeating her name. She flinched. When she did, Bowie gently squeezed her shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t...”
“It’s okay, honey. I’ll fill you in later,” Bowie said.
“We’re going to leave now,” Mr. Monroe said. “You and I have already talked about your father’s wishes. We’ll do this right for you.”
“Thank you, but remember it’s a closed casket for visitation,” Talia said.
“Yes, ma’am. We understand,” Monroe said.
Bowie heard a quiet anger in her voice as she kept talking.
“No one came to see him before. I’m not putting him on view for the curious to remark upon now.”
“Of course. I’ll call and let you know when we have him ready. You can say your goodbyes before we seal the casket.”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat.
“Yes. Thank you.”
And then they were gone, and Erin was waiting with papers for Talia to sign.
“I’ll have the company call you before they come to pick up the hospital bed. It will likely take two or three days for them to get here,” Erin said.
“Thank you,” Talia said, and threw her arms around Erin’s neck. “I couldn’t have done this without you. I will hold you in my heart forever for this.”
Now Erin was tearing up.
“It was my honor to help your father and you,” she said; then she looked at Bowie. “My sympathies to your family, but I hope you and Talia will be very happy. You both deserve to know joy.”
And then she, too, was gone.
Talia turned around. Bowie was standing between her and that empty bed. When he opened his arms, she walked into them.
Neither one of them spoke. He just held her, but he could feel her shaking.
“Do you think you could sleep? You’re still trembling,” he said.
Talia shuddered.
“I can’t quit shaking, and I don’t know why. I feel cold inside, but the room isn’t cold.”
“That’s shock. You need to get off your feet and into bed. Even if you can’t sleep, you need to rest, okay?”
She was shivering harder now.
“I feel like I could sleep for a week, but I don’t know if I can relax.”
“Let’s try,” he said, then picked her up in his arms and carried her into her bedroom. He set her down by the bed and pulled back the covers.
Talia couldn’t think what to do next.
“Take off your shoes and jeans, honey. You’ll rest better,” Bowie said, but when she tried to unbutton the waistband of her jeans her hands were shaking too much to grip.
“Here, let me help,” he said, and had her barefoot and her jeans off in moments.
She crawled in between the sheets, and when her head hit the pillow, she sighed. She closed her eyes as Bowie drew up the covers to warm her, then pulled the shades and curtains to darken the room. She needed to thank him, but she could barely focus.
“Bowie?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for coming back. Thank you for forgiving me. Thank you for—”
Bowie sighed. She’d fallen asleep in midsentence. He glanced around the room to the easy chair near her desk, pulled it close to her bed and settled in. He sent a text to his mother, telling her Marshall was gone, and that Talia was in shock and he couldn’t get her warm. He said that he’d put her to bed and wouldn’t leave until he was sure she was okay.
Within seconds he got a text back.
Stay with her. Samuel and Bella are spending the night. They send their love and so do I.
Bowie pinched the bridge of his nose to keep from crying as he laid his phone aside. There was a knot in his belly. The past few days had, without doubt, been the worst days of their lives. Things had to start getting better.
He heard Talia crying, but she was asleep and so fragile he couldn’t bear to see her lying there alone. He kicked off his boots and eased down on top of the covers beside her. He put one arm over her waist, and stretched the other on to the pillow above her head and just held her.
Slowly her shaking began to ease until she was finally still.
And they slept.
Eleven
Constable Riordan and a search team rolled up to the Wayne lake house at mid-afternoon. Riordan had asked Chief Clayton of the Eden PD to deliver the second search warrant to Jack Wayne as he and his men were on their way to the property. He intended to be there before the family got word of the search to make sure no one had time to remove any incriminating evidence.
Riordan had just dispatched part of the team to the large outbuilding west of the house when two vehicles suddenly appeared on the road leading down to the house, driving at a high rate of speed.
“It appears the search warrant has been served,” he said, and then headed for the house with the rest of his team behind him.
* * *
Blake Wayne was in the car behind his Uncle Jack without knowing exactly why. He’d received a brief text from Jack that he couldn’t ignore.
Get to the lake house now.
He’d reacted without question, but now that he saw the contingent of police vans and vehicles on the property, his gut knotted.
“What the hell?” he muttered, as he came to a sliding halt beside Jack’s car.
Jack had pulled up practically to the front door and was already out of his car and heading for the house, bellow
ing at the top of his voice, when Blake caught up with him.
“Stop them!” Jack yelled, pointing at the police, who were about to break in the door.
Riordan heard Jack shout and stopped his men in the act of forcing the door.
“It appears the man with the key just arrived,” he drawled.
Jack waded through the officers surrounding Riordan, resisting the urge to push and shove.
“If you wanted to search this property, you should have asked,” Jack blustered, as he fished the door key from his pocket.
Riordan resented the man’s attitude and didn’t bother to hide it.
“No, sir, I don’t have to ask you for anything,” Riordan said. “Your legal notification was served, and that’s all the warning you get when you are a suspect in a murder investigation.”
Jack sputtered and muttered beneath his breath as he unlocked the door, but it was hard to argue with the truth. The door swung inward, and Jack started to lead the way inside, when Riordan stopped him.
“No, sir. You will be staying outside.”
“But I can help—”
Riordan’s eyes narrowed angrily.
“You didn’t even mention this place existed when we asked where the guns might be, so your assistance is not only unnecessary, it is unwanted. It’s a trust issue. I’m sure you understand.”
Blake made his way through the crowd in time to hear Riordan ordering Jack to stay out of the house, and when Riordan saw him, he waved Blake away, too, designating a young officer to stay outside with both of them, under orders not to let them out of his sight.
Jack threw his arms up in a gesture of exasperation. “I resent the hell out of you continually treating us like criminals.” But the moment he said it, he realized how ridiculous it sounded. In the eyes of the law, they were all murder suspects. “Whatever,” he muttered, and strode back toward his car.
Blake followed, saying nothing. When he saw a half-dozen other officers milling around the garage, he started toward them when their guard stopped him.
“No, sir. You stay here.”
“Oh. Right,” Blake said, and walked back to his uncle.
“Hell of a mess,” Jack said.
Blake nodded.
Jack glared at him.
“When I find out which one of you brought this down on our family, he or she will be on their own. I won’t waste a penny on legal services for any of you.”
Blake glared back.
“Well, hell, Uncle Jack, I hate to break this to you when you’re so out of sorts, but you don’t have the legal power to do that. Every one of us, including my son, is part of Wayne Industries, and we can and will, at any time we choose, avail ourselves of all that entails.” Blake glanced at the guard and lowered his voice. “I don’t know who did it, but I can understand what triggered the impulse.”
Jack’s eyes widened as his lips parted in sudden shock.
“Really? You understand a killer’s thoughts so well you can make an excuse for the deed?”
Blake reacted before he thought, getting in his uncle’s face to challenge his sudden do-gooder attitude.
“Oh, hell, no! You don’t pretend with me. You and Justin and I all know what a big knot Stanton Youngblood tied in the resort plans when his siblings’ properties were no longer eligible for foreclosure.”
Jack shrugged. “So we’ll buy them out.”
Blake rolled his eyes.
“Why do you think Stanton paid off their loans?”
Jack shrugged. “I don’t know. Because he was trying to stop something we—”
Blake sighed.
“No! Hell, no! We weren’t even on his radar. He was keeping his brother and sister from losing their homes—homes that had been in both families for a good three generations. They won’t take your money. They don’t give a shit about that resort as long as it doesn’t displace them. I told the investors when they set out to accumulate property that it might be an issue. Now the central part of the land they need is no longer available, nor will it be, which means plans for the resort are now at a standstill. And there better not be any discussion of so-called accidents to either family now, or the cops will blame the whole damn lot of us and we’ll all wind up in prison.”
Jack glanced at the guard and then lowered his voice, too.
“So when did you know Youngblood was the one who paid off those loans?”
Blake shrugged. “I guess as soon as the other investors knew. We were all notified there was a hitch.”
“Why wasn’t I notified?” Jack asked.
“Because investments are my job, that’s why. I didn’t need your advice or permission.”
Jack stopped and then stared at Blake as if he’d never seen him before.
“You didn’t need my permission to do what?”
Blake looked a little taken aback and flushed.
“To do my job,” Blake sputtered.
“Indeed,” Jack muttered, and then noticed the officers coming out of the garage pushing a motorcycle.
Blake sighed. “Should have figured they would find that,” he said.
“Who owns that?” Jack asked.
“The company,” Blake said.
“Who rides it?”
“I guess everyone but you and Fiona has been on it at one time or another,” Blake said.
They watched without further comment as the officers loaded the motorcycle into the back of one of the county vans and then headed into the house to join the others.
Moments later, other officers began coming out carrying rifles.
Jack flinched. “Did you know these were out here?” he asked.
“Yes,” Blake said.
“Did you tell Riordan?”
“No.”
“I wonder who did?” Jack said.
“It doesn’t matter,” Blake said. “They knew we had them. They’re all registered.”
“Do we know what kind of weapon killed Youngblood?” Jack asked.
“Riordan didn’t mention a particular model. He just asked the location of any rifles that were registered to the family. I said I wasn’t sure anymore. I obviously lied,” Blake muttered.
Jack shook his head, handed Blake the door key, then got back in his car and drove away.
Blake leaned against his car with his arms crossed, watching the uniformed officers continuing to emerge with still more rifles.
The wind was beginning to quicken. He glanced up at the sky and then frowned. It appeared they were in for another thunderstorm, which seemed fitting. Their whole way of life was in turmoil.
Finally the cops finished their search and exited the house. Riordan was the last to emerge.
Blake approached with the key in hand.
Riordan looked around for Jack. “Where’s your uncle?” he asked.
“He left. I waited to lock up.”
Riordan gave Blake a studied look. “So you didn’t know where the guns were?”
“I haven’t been out here in years,” Blake said.
“That’s not what I was told,” Riordan said, and then got in his car and led the way off the property.
Blake’s gut was in a knot as he went inside to see what damage they’d done. Cabinet doors and drawers were open, room doors were ajar. And the gun cabinet was empty. He went through the house closing doors and drawers, putting things back to rights as best he could, and then locked the front door on the way out.
He drove back to Eden with one thought on his mind. Which member of his family had blabbed about the location of the rifles? And why? What did they know? Were they trying to point a finger at someone else by being too forthcoming? He couldn’t imagine which one of them would do it, but he was going to find out.
* * *
Bowie was dreaming of his father. He could see him standing in the tree line just beyond the garden, talking and waving, but he couldn’t hear what he was saying. Thinking he needed to get closer, he started forward just as a loud explosion erupted behind him. Before he could turn around to see what had happened, his father’s image began to fade. Then he heard another sound, like the crack of a gunshot, and his father was gone.
He woke abruptly, only to realize the explosion he’d heard was thunder, and the gunshot, a bolt of lightning. And he was in Talia’s bedroom, but she was gone.
He rolled out of bed and headed toward the front of the house, following the scent of fresh-brewed coffee. Talia was standing at the kitchen sink, looking through the window and watching it rain.
He walked up behind her and slid a hand around her waist. It bothered him that he could so readily feel her ribs, and he didn’t know where to start to help her heal. “Are you okay?”
She nodded as she leaned back against him.
“I woke up, thinking I needed to check on Dad. It will take a while for me to get out of that habit, I guess.”
“Is there anything you need to do? I’ll do it for you if I can, or take you to do it,” Bowie said.
“No, there’s nothing. I prepared for this day a long time ago, but I forgot to plan for what I would do without him.”
Bowie kissed the back of her neck.
She turned to face him.
“You’re sure you still want to resurrect this relationship?” she asked.
He heard the uncertainty in her voice and frowned.
“Yes. I want to grow old with you, Talia. All I ever wanted from you was for you to love me.”
She traced the curve of his jaw, brushed a thumb over his lower lip, then reached behind his neck and pulled the band from his hair. The long dark strands fell over her hands and down on to his shoulders.
“I’ve been trying to tell myself that wanting to make love with you now is inappropriate so soon after my father’s death, but when I woke up and saw you lying beside me, I was reminded that I had given up enough. It’s time to live for me. I’m not pretty anymore, but my heart still beats the same for you. Will you make love to me, Bowie?”
