by R. T. Wolfe
She couldn't help it, a small squeal came from her throat. Her face must have screamed, 'get her,' because the woman slipped around the casket and out a door behind the tallest tripod of flowers. There was a door behind the flowers? Surely, Matt knew this. That must be where he was... waiting for her. The woman was trapped. That had to be it.
Looking to Dane, she searched his face for the same conclusion. It wasn't there. The two plain-clothes officers darted behind the flowers after her.
Awkwardly, her family kept up their façade, although not nearly as convincingly. To hell with it. She took off behind the officers, around the borrowed casket, behind the floral display, and through the doorway. It led down a wide hallway. Frigging heels. She took the time to stop and kick them off, causing Dane to nearly fall over her.
"She's getting away," Zoe growled as she ditched the shoes and ran in her bare feet along the tile floor. The officers reached the end of the hallway long before she did. One went right and the other left. They didn't know which way she went?
When she reached the end herself, Zoe noticed the left was the way to some kind of prep area. The right was an exit door. If she was the woman, she would be escaping, not sticking around to look for formaldehyde. A bright setting sun blinded her momentarily as she stepped out onto a sidewalk and instantly dug a small stone into her left heel.
Limping, she made her way to the grass before scanning the area. Matt and three officers were at each corner of the property, checking underneath cars and behind trees.
No frigging way.
* * *
The funeral continued as if nothing happened. Zoe was definitely not cut out for this. Matt and his men scoured the area inside and out as the funeral director asked the remaining guests to please take their seats. By the time Zoe had retrieved her shoes and made it back to the viewing room, her parents and sisters had already taken their seats in the front row. She glanced down and noticed Raine and Willow were holding hands.
Willow.
What had Zoe been thinking? She hadn't been thinking. The funeral of Willow's husband was much like this one. Closed casket, reception line. Except his had representatives from the armed forces flanking the American flag-covered casket.
Slinking on the other side of Willow, Zoe clasped her sister's hand and noticed how she clenched their fingers. Dane left her to be alone with her family. She hadn't realized how much she'd turned him into a crutch these past few weeks. The chair next to her seemed far away and very empty.
People spoke about Seth. Some told stories, some were more like testimonies. His old roommate finished speaking of Seth's messy habits, his late nights, and earned a few laughs when he shared about his fascination with Luciana's Dowry. The man's eyes turned to her father's. They nodded once to each other, then the man backed away from the podium and returned to his chair.
Her father stood, paused, then pulled a folded paper from the inside of his suit jacket as he dragged his feet the long journey to the podium. It was Zoe's turn to squeeze Willow's fingers.
"Thank you all for coming. It means a lot to Harmony and me. We haven't always been the easiest family to understand. For Seth's sake, I hope I can bring some light to that."
Zoe hadn't understood how much her father had closed off since the death of his first-born. It occurred to her he'd just spoke more words than she'd heard him say in one sitting in over two years.
And he wasn't finished. "Harmony and I were sixteen and juniors in high school when we learned she was pregnant. We had a choice to make and it wasn't a popular one with our families. It was then we gave up the life we knew. She went to school in the day, I went in the evenings." His eyes reddened as he set his paper on the podium and looked to Zoe's mother. "And we never regretted a minute of it. We had no idea what to expect, but we embraced our new life. With no money and little support from either of our parents, we learned to use the earth for food and resources. So did Seth. He loved the island. The nature, the mystery. And, yes, he loved his search for mythical treasure." He paused to take a breath. Zoe clutched her dress in the middle of her chest like that might keep her heart from beating out of her chest.
"Raised by two teenagers, he could have ended up a big ball of trouble. Instead, he grew up to be a man who made us proud. He worked, supported himself, and he dearly loved his sisters. Thank you, Seth, wherever you are. You suffered an inexcusable fate, but we know you're smiling down on us now."
The room remained silent. The funeral director let the power of her father's declaration sink in just the right amount of time before he motioned for his ushers to begin dismissing the rows of people.
Chapter 20
Zoe's mother reassured Matt a dozen times. Yet, he still argued that this could wait until morning, but—as far as police sketches go—the sooner the better. "I feel okay," she told him. "Better than okay, really. I can't explain it. All those people. They were wonderful. I had no idea how delightful that would feel. We were so young when we had Seth, I can't remember life before him. Now, I feel like I can move on. It's the strangest thing."
I can't remember my life before you came crying into my office. Dane. He was there for her. He followed her behind the funeral procession so they weren't seen together. He was her rock in an ocean of quicksand.
Chief Roberts was away at an antiques auction. Matt had taken it upon himself to use the conference room at the Ibis Island City Hall as a meeting place. Zoe would love to be a fly on the wall when the chief found out. That may be something cops did for one another in Reno or Chicago... maybe even St. Petersburg, but Ibis Island?
He'd called in 'his' sketch artist who met with each of them at the far end of the common area that held metal desks for the few officers Ibis Island had. One of the two who was on duty paced nervously. The other one was driving the streets, Zoe assumed. What did she know about these things?
The other officers Matt brought with him met with Raine, Willow and her parents, but Matt interviewed Zoe himself. "If this is the woman who attacked you, you might be able to recognize her. Her build? The way she moved? Think about it, Zoe. Tell me what you remember."
She remembered all right.
How could she so easily forgive someone who broke into her parents' home? Her home? Seth's old apartment? Zoe should tell him what she remembered, what she thought. But she didn't.
It was the letters.
Whoever wrote those letters wasn't a crazed murderer. She was a victim. A victim who loved Seth. A woman who Seth loved back. She couldn't rat her out. Wouldn't.
"I'm sorry, Matt. The person, if it even was a woman, came at me from behind. The lights were all off until after she ran out the front door. She seemed as scared as I was, I remember that now."
The way his eyes squinted made her want to hide. He sighed overtly and sat back in his chair. "Okay, Zoe. You got the best look at her out of all of us, so tell me what you saw."
He was recording their conversation. He'd made her agree to it beforehand. She felt guilty. Was she?
"I remember she wore sunglasses and a sheer scarf that covered her head and neck. Which would go along with what she said in her letters about being abused. Either that, or she didn't want anyone to recognize her. Her hair was brown, I think. It showed near her face... her forehead I mean." Did he notice she was giving only half-truths?
Miriam Roberts, the police chief's wife. Zoe could almost swear to it. She was the right build, the right height, and Zoe remembered watching her when she staked out the police chief's house.
Holy shit. She staked out the Ibis Island chief of police's house. Who was a wife beater and very likely the man who murdered her brother. And now she was lying to a detective. She should be thrown in jail.
She couldn't look Matt in the eyes. Instead, she let them wander to the picture window leading into the conference room. He smiled at her. Dane's big, beautiful blue eyes smiled at her and all seemed right in the world. He was in love with her, couldn't remember life before her. And he donated millio
ns of dollars' worth of treasure to the Smithsonian. He changed. People do that. It was a change she would have never expected.
"Zoe?" Matt spoke loudly.
"Huh? Oh, sorry. Just thinking. I'm really not clear on this, Matt, and I'm not comfortable guessing. I did some guessing after the break-in at my parents' home, and look what that got me. I will call you." She rested her hand on his forearm. "I will. If I think of anything you can use. I'll call you first thing."
He reached his other hand over and laid it on top of hers. Patting it twice, he added, "And if you think of anything you don't want me to know, Zoe? You do want me to solve this case, right? I may have pieces to a puzzle I can't tell you about. If you give me the other half of the piece, I might catch Seth's killer."
It wasn't necessarily a dirty move on his part, but it was effective, nonetheless. He tilted his head to her, making her positive that he had an ulterior motive, then shared one of his puzzle pieces. "There were fingerprints on the letters. Seth's, yours, each member of your family's were on the first letter, and a set of fingerprints we didn't find in our database."
Oh boy. "I'll think on it, Matt. Truly. Thank you for everything."
* * *
It killed Dane to drive separately. He'd even rented a Lexus for the night, because he didn't want Zoe to have to climb into his Jeep wearing her funeral dress. Now, he waited alone in her driveway because... why?
He was finished with discreet. His employees were going to respect their relationship or they could find other jobs. The headlights of Henry's ancient Camry turned down her drive. The car stopped for several minutes. He couldn't see exactly who all was in there, but he noticed bodies as they leaned together and hugged.
She exited the car, stood for a moment like she'd had too much to drink, gained composure, then waved as the car backed out to the street and drove away. As she turned for the house, her head and shoulders dropped ever so slightly. Others might not notice, but he knew everything about Zoe Clearwater.
Realizing she didn't know he was in the car, he opened the door and paused, hoping not to startle her. She didn't jump, not even a twitch. That was a bad sign, coming from Zoe. Her feet stopped when he shut and locked the car. He stepped to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She leaned her cheek on his chest, letting the weight rest on him. He wished she would let the weight of the rest of her body lay on him, too.
She turned and took his hand in a signal she was ready to head for the front door. "I could do something," she mumbled. "Why don't I do something?"
"Stop it." It came out more forcefully than he would have liked.
Her feet stopped short, and she turned to him, looking as surprised as he was at his tone. "You don't understand. You're not me."
This time he took her shoulders. "Stop. Enough. So, you chose to be a responsible business owner two years ago to cover for a sick employee. It was Seth who chose to dive inexperienced and without a partner. It was his risk to bear, not yours. And who cares if you didn't realize your attacker was female at first? You're not a cop. You're a woman who was attacked in the safety of the home you grew up in. You're human, Zoe. A regular human who had a lot to get through today. Willow doesn't get to somehow trump the grief for your brother just because her husband died five years ago."
He reached down and kissed her once, feeling her shoulders melt under the palms of his hands. "I love you." He kissed her again. "I love everything about you." And once more. "Even when you make me want to shake you." Beneath his lips, her mouth expanded into a smile.
She pulled away, creating a breeze between them. It made her too damned far away. Her eyes turned a brighter green when she cried. The tears didn't escape this time. They pooled in her lids as she took his hands and placed one over each of her breasts. He went from control to crazed in seconds. She could do that to him. He grabbed hold as she pulled the shirt from his pants that didn't fit so well in his sudden condition.
She had strong hands for a woman. Years of maintaining boats and hauling diving equipment. Her fingers grabbed possessively at the muscles in his back as she lifted to her toes and smashed their lips together. Hers were needy and aggressive.
One of her thighs dipped between his as he adjusted his head and dove in deeper. What was his life like before Zoe? How had he lived with her so close for so many years and not seen? None of that mattered, now. He'd be damned if he let her slip by him again.
Taking into account the day she'd just endured, Dane decided to be the grown up. "We're in your driveway," he groaned.
"Mmm," she crooned and lifted the knee nuzzled between his legs. "Too bad I don't have any grass."
Painfully, he pushed away and took her hand, leading her to the front door. "Yeah. Sea shell mulch might be painful."
She pulled her tiny purse around and took out her keys. At least she was locking her door regularly, now. He pressed himself against her back, kissing her neck and wrapping his hands around her as she opened the door.
He smelled cigarettes.
A female voice came from deep in the house. "Don't turn on the lights." It was an older voice, raspy.
Fumes erupted from his insides. Zoe froze beneath his hands. Uncharacteristically, she didn't tremble. He maneuvered himself in front of her.
"No, Dane," Zoe said confidently and moved to stand next to him. "When I said I could do something... it was because today I figured out who this is."
What. The. Hell?
"You're Miriam Roberts," Zoe said and took a step forward.
The silence could've killed him. His eyes had adjusted to the dark back in the driveway. He could see the outline of a woman. She was small, but she had a gun. He was sure Zoe could see it, too. Why wasn't she scared?
A lighter flicked as Roberts brought it to the cigarette dangling from her lips. Her hand shook the lighter as much as the other one trembled with the gun.
"It doesn't matter, anyway." Roberts took a long drag, then reached down and turned on the table lamp. The glow beneath her chin sent an extra wave of awareness through him. This woman was the one who had broken into Zoe's home, the one who had attacked her at her parents'.
"I want the letters," Miriam said before taking a long drag. "I'm leaving. You can tell my husband whatever you want. I don't care if he finds me."
Zoe held out her hands. "Let us help you."
Help her?
The woman's head jerked before she let out a laugh. "Help me? Do you mean help to put me away? I've planned this too long. Should have done it some time ago. But I wasn't sure... "
Slowly, Zoe sunk to the chair nearest the front door. Dane cringed as the shaking point of the gun followed her.
"Why now, Miriam?"
"You found him." Rubbing circles, she pressed the palm of the cigarette hand deep into the socket of one of her eyes. "I wasn't sure. When he was reported missing, I assumed he'd been murdered, but what if I had been wrong? I thought my husband had done it. I was sure of it. I should have shot him while he slept. You don't understand."
The light showed tears as they dripped freely down Roberts' face. "I didn't care if I died in the wake of Seth's disappearance. But I waited for him. Waited until I realized he wasn't coming for me, for us. I thought Neil had found out about us. That he killed Seth and was going to kill me. But then, time went on, and I realized Neil would have told me what he'd done, would have rubbed it in my face every day for the rest of my life. He would have never kept quiet about killing my lover."
Or maybe he didn't want to serve forty-five to life.
"Everything went on... like it always did. I honestly don't think it was Neil now." It was Miriam's turn to sink to the chair on the other side of the couch. She propped her leg up, took a drag and used her knee as a place to set the gun. "I want my letters. I want the only thing I have left in this world that means anything to me."
"Miriam. Dear. I can't get those for you."
Miriam lifted the gun and aimed it at Zoe's head. "You can, and you will."
The grimace on her face turned to defeat as the shaking gun lowered slowly. Zoe grabbed Dane's thigh, holding him where he was.
Miriam began to cry more than just tears. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. "I can't do it. Seth loved you. He spoke of you continually," she said into her hands. "I feel like I know you. I'm sorry I scared you that night in your parents' home. I didn't know what to do. I just want my pieces of him so I can disappear."
Zoe lifted from the chair and moved slowly to her. He flanked her side, and as she distracted the woman, he slipped the gun from the chair into the pocket of his pants. Miriam didn't notice but buried her head into Zoe's outstretched arms.
Chapter 21
The craziness with Miriam Roberts took them late into the night. By the time things were settled, it was too late to sleep. Zoe had to walk the beach in the morning, so Dane convinced her to head out early. Middle of the night could be classified as morning when you're an Ibis Island native.
"It's well into July," she said as he took her warm hand in his.
He had to admit, the barefoot walk on smooth sand helped to bring some kind of clarity to the turn of events.
She continued as if nothing had happened. "It means we'll have both adults laying eggs and nests hatching almost nightly. Who needs sleep at a time like this?"
They walked her designated section of the beach, although she explained they would need to repeat the path again before the sun came up in case new activity happened between now and then.
