Through the haze of pain, the voices of men and laughter wafted in from the street. He closed his eyes. Evie’s face, dusted a rosy hue with happiness, her eyes sparkling in happiness, reflected off his eyelids. There it was, her chuckle, like nothing would give her greater pleasure than to grant his every wish. Grant me this wish, Evie. That I will live to love you.
The pain became hardly more than an inconvenient twitch. His vision twinkled. He saw Evie standing over Miller’s body, a knife dripping with blood in her hand, and heard her pleas: Please help me, Simon. They think I’m a murderer. He swallowed the sickening remorse and compelled himself to stand. Evie needs my help. I must save her.
Teetering on wobbly legs, his head wracked with pain, he looked around. In that instant, he sensed himself falling. His legs gave out and he hit the ground with a heavy thud. Snow puffed around him, rising in a rush, then slowly falling as soft as a baby’s breath around his face. He tasted iron. The earth trembled beneath his body. He heard heavy footsteps, someone running, and men yelling. Shifting his head a fraction, he opened an eye, only a slit, and saw two men receding into the darkness. Giving in to blessed oblivion, he closed his eyes. “E…vie. I love you.”
***
Evie checked her watch. Where was Simon? He’d been gone an hour and a half. He should be back by now. She shivered suddenly, but it lasted a mere second. Like a snow squall that arose from nowhere and vanished again for no apparent reason.
She looked at Keertana whose eyes had opened wide at the same moment, either in shock or surprise. Had she experienced the same feeling? Before she could ask, the barn doors opened and Aubrey walked in, looking clearly distressed. She recognized the look—the look people wore when they had bad news to impart. Her forearms prickled. Her heart felt like an anchor in her chest. The gay chatter and the laughter around her came to an abrupt halt, like everyone knew what Aubrey would say and that this would be a Christmas Eve they would never forget.
He peered around, spotted Evie and sprinted to her. “Can I talk to you outside?”
She couldn’t move. “What is it, Aubrey? Something’s happened to Simon, hasn’t it?”
He looked at Dan and Keertana who now stood behind their chairs, as though readying to dash for the exit. “There…there was an altercation in an alley. I’m sorry. There’s no easy way to say this. Simon…Simon’s dead.”
From somewhere else, it seemed, she heard gasps and exclamations of alarm. Her own voice failed her. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t breathe. It couldn’t be true. Simon wasn’t dead. He was going to marry her. He loved her and promised he would never leave her.
One by one, she stared at the faces looking at her until she came to the head of the table. The monk nibbled on fruitcake, as though nothing had happened.
“No, it is not true!” Keertana said.
Dan moved to stand beside Keertana. “Sweetheart—”
“It is not true! I will not believe it.” Keertana wrapped Evie in her arms.
She instantly calmed. “I want to see him. Where is he, Aubrey?”
“At the hospital, but—”
“Take me to him.” When Aubrey shifted his gaze from her to Dan and Keertana, she said, “Now.”
“We will go with you, Piloqutinnguaq,” Keertana said.
She nodded, amazed and soothed by Keertana’s composure.
“Everything will be all right, you will see.”
How could say that? Her life was over. Nothing would ever be all right for her again. Already, her heart filled with the echoes of her lost love. A mournful song she tried to block, but couldn’t. It sang on and on.
Evie rode with Aubrey in the police cruiser and Dan and Keertana followed behind in their truck.
“Have you seen him?” she asked, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her jacket. He shook his head. “The attending intern at the hospital ID’d him.”
“H-how’d it happen?” I won’t be able to live without him. I’ll kill myself and be with him.
“Gunshot to the chest.”
She shuddered. Simon was dead. She wanted to die, too. She envisioned her wedding dress, hanging from a hanger on her closet door, the single white rose she’d intended to carry, Simon standing at the altar, beaming with his love for her. Oh God. Why? Was He punishing her for what she had done? Tears filled her eyes, her heart ached. Simon couldn’t be gone. He just couldn’t. Why couldn’t you take me? she asked God. I was the one who did the wrong. Simon didn’t deserve to die. She clutched the medal at her neck. Our Lady of Lourdes, if you are to grant me one miracle, let this be a horrible mistake. Even as she prayed the words, in her heart she knew even God could not undo this what He had done.
What traffic there was on the highway, Aubrey passed, siren screaming and lights flashing. They made record time to the hospital.
Evie opened the door of the patrol car and hopped from the vehicle before Aubrey had a chance to come to a full stop. Her heart hammering, she ran the short distance to Emergency, hauled open the doors and sprinted to the reception desk.
“Where’s Simon Wolfe? I’m his fiancé and I want to see him now.”
Aubrey, Keertana and Dan flanked her.
The nurse pointed to her left. “He’s—”
Evie followed the direction of the nurse’s outstretched finger. The others rushed through the hallway behind her. Outside the curtain, Evie halted. Keertana placed a hand on her elbow.
“We will wait here.”
Evie nodded, tears clouding her vision. Taking one hesitant step, then another, she clasped the curtain and slowly pushed it aside. She stared at the blood-soaked sheet covering the body … Simon’s body. This wasn’t some horrible mistake. Oh God. She had thought she needed to see him for herself to verify, but realized now, in this moment of truth, she couldn’t see him this way. Not this way. Feeling like her world collapsed around her, she backed up and hit something.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
Recognizing the voice, she cried out, turned and stared into Simon’s face. “Oh, thank you God.” She flung herself into his arms and sobbed against his chest. “When Aubrey…I thought you were dead. My life was over. I couldn’t live without you.”
He hugged her fiercely. “I’m fine. Just a little blow to the head. Take more than that to put me down for good.”
This made her realize how close she came to losing him. They worked in a dangerous business, but it was a vital part of them, one neither of them would ever be able to do without.
Dan, Keertana and Aubrey joined them. Dan hugged Simon, then shook his head, blinking back tears. Aubrey stepped in and clasped Simon by the shoulder, but said nothing. Keertana made no move toward Simon. He noticed. “Tepkunset-nákúset.”
“Do not Moon-Sun me. It is a terrible thing you did. Frightening us like that.” Keertana reached under the collar of his shirt, clasped his talisman and ran her fingers over the Malachite. “It offers you health, vitality and protection, but only so much.” She slapped his chest.
He raised his arms at his sides. “What? What happened wasn’t my fault.”
She looked into his eyes, long and steady. “That is not what I want to hear.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“That is better.”
“What did happen, Simon?” Evie asked.
Simon related the incident. “The gun went off into Parker’s chest at the same time someone knocked me on the back of the head. I passed out. I guess my badge and ID must have fallen off my belt and onto him. Thus, the screw-up in identity.”
“Your snitch set you up,” Aubrey said.
“Yep, probably for money, and I suspect he was the one who hit me.”
Evie could tell from the set of Simon’s jaw the matter hadn’t ended.
Dan looked up and down the corridor. “Where’s the attending physician? I’d like to have a word with him.”
“It’s not his fault, Pa. He’s new to the area and didn’t know me from a hole in the ground.”
Something dawned on Evie. She turned and faced Keertana. “You knew?”
“I had a feeling, yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Would you have believed me?”
“Yes, I would have.”
She raised her eyebrows a fraction, her mouth curving upward.
Evie realized Keertana had a point. “I would have wanted to.” In fact, she would have clutched onto anything and held on tightly if it meant the slightest hope.
A nurse walked toward them and handed Simon a sheet of paper. “You’ll need to follow these instructions to the letter, and remember, if you experience vomiting or become easily confused, return to the hospital immediately.”
Evie took the instruction sheet from Simon’s hand and scanned it. “It says here you should be awakened every two hours.”
“Yes.” The nurse turned to Simon. “If you have a headache, Doctor Wooten said to take acetaminophen or other aspirin-free medication and to take things easy for the next few days. The brain needs time to heal, and it’s important all symptoms of the concussion have cleared up before returning to normal activities.”
When the nurse left, Evie turned to Simon and slapped him on the arm. “A bump on the head? You have a concussion and don’t give me that sheepish look, mister.”
Dan zippered his parka. “Why don’t we head back to the barn. I’m suddenly famished.”
Simon raised a finger. “I’ll meet you there. I have a stop to make. There’s someone who needs a serious talking to.”
“No!” Evie, Dan, Keertana and Aubrey said, almost simultaneously.
Chapter Thirty-One
Outside in the parking lot, Simon sent Dan and Keertana back to their guests. He stood at the driver’s door of the police cruiser and argued a good case with Evie for spending the night at his camp. She had none of it. “Do you think I’ll sleep better knowing you’re alone and possibly suffering from nausea, headaches and dizziness and maybe passing out? There’ll be no one to help you.” She wagged a finger in his face. “Don’t think for a minute, mister, you’re fooling me. Tomorrow is soon enough to track down your snitch and uphold the law.”
Simon didn’t argue.
“Aubrey.” Simon scribbled the Roach’s address on a slip of paper and handed it to him. “Find him and haul him in. Have him cool his heels in a cell until morning. I’ll deal with him then.”
After Aubrey dropped them off at the cottage, Evie had Simon bundled in bed two minutes later. He would have argued if only to give her the pleasure of putting him in place, but he didn’t possess the strength. Instead, he welcomed getting off his feet and the warmth of the down comforter. The doctor had assured him sleep was safe, but he wanted to stay awake to think about the setup tonight and if it had anything to do with the murders. If Evie had left him to his own resources, he would have spent the night tracking down his snitch and having the pleasure of carting Rodney’s weed ass to the station.
“How’s your head? Is it sore?”
“No.”
She cocked a brow and folded her arms against her chest. “You have six stitches and a bump the size of a plum on the back of your head, and you expect me to believe you don’t have a headache?”
“It’s manageable.” Where he never took drugs of any kind, acetaminophen would knock him out.
“Sure?”
He nodded and immediately regretted it.
“I’ll heat some soup.”
When Evie left, he found a comfortable position for his head on the pillow and fought sleep by thinking about the murders. Which one of the many wives who had husbands cheat on them wanted those who did dead? The murderer was smart and he wished for something that would lead to her identity. Any one of the widows made perfect suspects if it were not for their ironclad alibis. Trixie could be considered a suspect for Miller’s murder, but not Coulton’s or Teed’s. Besides she had an unshakable alibi for Miller’s death—parent/teacher conference. She couldn’t confirm her whereabouts for either of the other murders, but it didn’t matter. He’d already determined the same person killed the three men.
When Evie reentered the bedroom, he stared into space, deeply entrenched in visual images of a faceless woman wielding a knife over a man who pleaded for his life.
“Simon?”
He fought through the miasma of his thoughts. The concern in her voice spurred him to reassure her. He smiled. “Yes, sweetheart.”
She placed a hand against her heart. “You frightened me. You looked comatose with your eyes open.”
“Just lost in thought.” He straightened his legs when she placed a tray holding a bowl of chicken soup, crackers, and a cup of hot tea in his lap.
“Thinking about your snitch?”
“Actually, no.” Now that she brought it up, he looked forward to psychologically torturing the little weasel. “The murders.”
“Come up with anything new?”
“Only that anyone is capable of killing.”
“That gives you many possible suspects.”
“We know we’re looking for someone who is seeking revenge on every man who cheats on their wives who she comes in contact with.”
“That still gives you many possible suspects.”
“We finally thought we got lucky when we got a name. If only Staci Gardner existed, which goes to show again how smart our murderer is.”
“Gardner was my mother’s maiden name.” She sat beside him.
He stared at her, surprised by this bit of information. “I thought it was O’Malley.”
She shrugged. “Gardner was my grandmother’s first husband’s last name. He died in a car accident shortly after my mother’s birth. A year later, she married Patrick O’Malley. Mom always went by O’Malley, but my step-grandfather never legally adopted her. In fact, Felicia is not my mother’s given name, either. She was christened Anastasia, but my dotty old great-grandmother kept calling her Felicia. The name took.”
He stared at the comforter. Staci Gardner. Anastasia Gardner. One part of his brain told him he was reaching if he thought Felicia capable of such heinous killings while the other envisioned Felicia castrating a man. The woman was as cold as a freezer. Did Harrison run around on her? No, Evie would have mentioned it if she knew. He felt Evie watching him and raised his gaze from the bed to her. “What?”
“What are you thinking?”
“Anastasia Gardner. Staci Gardner. See any resemblance there?” It took only a second for that to register in her brain.
She stood and backed away from him. “You can’t possibly be considering my mother a suspect.”
He wouldn’t answer her directly. “People tend to use some part of their names in aliases.”
“Dad loves her. He wouldn’t cheat on her.”
Some men loved their wives and still cheated on them. He simply looked at her.
“Besides, Mom would have told me if he had …does.”
“Would she? You and your mother are not close.”
She flopped down on the edge of the bed and stared at him. “She couldn’t kill anyone. She’s spent almost her entire life caring for the sick.” She shook her head. “No, I refuse to consider her a suspect.”
He took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb over hers. “We determined long ago we’re looking for a woman with two faces. The one who is highly educated and intelligent, an intellect and who probably holds down a demanding job, one exacting details. The other, the one who kills without compunction and for retribution.”
She stood, shaking her head. “My mother wouldn’t kill anyone, not even if her life depended on it.”
He already thought ahead to tomorrow, getting Felicia’s whereabouts for the nights of the murders, getting a sample of her DNA. Detective Pyke’s witness had identified the woman in the sketch Tallulah had drawn from the bartender’s description of the woman Miller left with the night he was killed as the same woman Teed, the third victim, left the bar with on the night he was killed.
; “Simon.”
Dimly, Evie’s voice broke into his thoughts. He placed the tray on the floor and smiled. “Isn’t it time to coddle me?”
She moved out of his grasp when he reached for her. “No, sir, bud. You’re not going to distract me. I can see where your mind is going. You’re hypothesizing, calculating, extracting and deciphering. My mother is old, too old to be gallivanting around in bars, picking up men.”
“Not that old. Fifty, and she’s still a looker.”
“She’s not strong enough to haul a dead body up a hill.”
“A small incline, and your mother has a personal trainer and works out three times a week.” He envisioned the woman in the sketch. It held a strong resemblance to Felicia, just as it did to Evie. “What about the drawing?”
“What about it?”
“Don’t you think it resembles your mother, just a little?”
She thought about that a moment. “Maybe a little. Have you already arrested, tried and convicted her?”
“I’m simply presenting the facts.”
“She hates Chesley. It’s foggy and damp and frizzes her hair, and Sibbett is a little town she passes through on her way to somewhere else.”
The desperation in her voice to prove her mother’s innocence brought Simon out of cop mode. He patted the bed. “Come here.” When she sat, he wrapped his arm around her.
She snuggled against him. “My mom wouldn’t kill anyone.”
“But you can’t deny the facts.”
She drew back and studied him. “Simon?”
“I know, sweetheart. I’m having a hard time seeing her as our killer, too.”
“You really mean that?”
“Of course.”
“But it’s not going to stop you from checking her out.”
He hated himself for the need to, but what kind of cop would he be if he didn’t? “I have to. Do you understand?”
“It’s going to be a waste of time.”
“I know.” Truthfully, he didn’t know that for certain.
“You have enough to take her in for questioning.”
Wolfe, She Cried Page 18
