“Sleep well?” she asked as she entered the room.
Dante kicked the door shut. “Yeah, for a whole two hours.” He sat on the edge of the bed and lifted the mug to his lips. After taking a couple of sips, he glanced at Lucie who had sat down beside him. “Anybody up and stirring?”
“Just us hired help,” Lucie said. “Eustacia and Hal are in the kitchen. Dom’s asleep and Vic’s heading upstairs just as soon as you come down.”
“No sign of Tessa this morning?”
Lucie shook her head. “Look, I didn’t wake you up for nothing, you know. I have some information.”
He took several more swigs of coffee, then gave her a questioning look.
“While I was enjoying my breakfast a few minutes ago, I received a phone call from Daisy. Our Ms. Efficiency always amazes me. She managed to get hold of some of the information you wanted. It seems Dundee often uses freelance computer experts who can take sneak peeks into things like blood bank databases. Lucky for us that G.W. and Tessa are both regular blood donors so getting their blood types was easy. Getting Anne Westbrook’s blood type will take a little longer, but Daisy said she’d call as soon as she hears anything.”
“What’s Tessa’s blood type?”
“B positive,” Lucie said. “G.W.’s is A positive.”
“Amy was B positive.” He didn’t need any more proof that Tessa was Amy Smith. One or two things could be coincidence, but there were too many exact matches between Tessa and Amy for them to be mere chance. Tessa and Amy were one and the same. They had to be. There was no other logical explanation.
“It’s still not proof,” Lucie said. “But until you can get a DNA test run, you can’t be a hundred percent sure.”
“I’m sure. My gut instincts have been telling me all along that Tessa was Amy. I just wasn’t listening because I’d stopped believing in miracles.” Dante got up, finished off his coffee quickly, then handed Lucie the empty mug. “Make a point of talking to Myrle Poole as soon as she gets up this morning. Ask her what her sister’s blood type was. Tell her whatever you need to tell her to get the info.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“I’m going to wake up G.W. and have a little man-to-man talk with the old buzzard.”
WHEN TESSA WOKE, she looked over in the bed beside her and found it empty. She snapped up and looked around, then heard someone moving around in the sitting room.
“Leslie Anne?”
“Come on in here, Mama,” Leslie Anne said. “Aunt Sharon just brought us a breakfast tray and she’s going to stay and have coffee while we eat.”
Tessa got up, raked her fingers through her hair and tied her robe’s silk belt around her waist. After putting on her house slippers, she stretched several times before walking into the sitting room.
“Good morning.” Sharon held out a cup of coffee to Tessa. “Leslie Anne tells me that she slept well. Did you?”
Tessa accepted the coffee, took a sip and smiled at her aunt. “Yes, I did, oddly enough. I don’t remember hearing the phone ring once all night long.”
“That’s because the Dundee agents disconnected the phone service,” Sharon said. “We’re to use only our cell phones for the time being.”
“Who’s up and about this morning?” Tessa glanced at the wall clock and noted it was one minute past seven. “Forget I asked. I didn’t realize it was only seven o’clock.”
“I asked her if she’d seen Dante this morning,” Leslie Anne said. “But she hasn’t.”
“But I did get a glimpse of that gorgeous Vic Noble.” Sharon grinned. “And Lucie Evans, of course. I believe Mr. Moran is still asleep.”
Tessa wanted to see Dante first thing, before the household woke and prying eyes began watching her every move. She had to tell Dante about the taunting voice and the follow-up note that Leslie Anne had received. Even though she didn’t really think the culprit was Tad Sizemore, she would tell Dante that Leslie Anne suspected Olivia’s darling boy. But the first thing she wanted to do the moment she and Dante were alone was to kiss him and see if kissing him would affect her the same way this morning as it had last night.
She would let Dante sleep until seven-thirty, then she would go wake him. Maybe wake him with a kiss. “I’ll just take coffee this morning. I want to grab a quick shower and get dressed as soon as possible. I need to speak to the Dundee agents before I check on Daddy.” Tessa looked right at Sharon. “Olivia didn’t stay the night in Daddy’s room, did she?”
Sharon laughed. “No, she didn’t. I walked her to her room myself. The last thing G.W. needed last night was that femme fatale sharing his bed. Although giving the devil her due, I don’t think she’d willingly do anything to harm G.W. After all, she wouldn’t want anything to happen to her money supply, would she?”
“I guess we’ll be cooped up here all day, won’t we?” Leslie Anne sighed. “I mean, with the reporters camped out down at the gates and everybody in town probably talking about us, we can’t show our faces in Fairport any time soon.”
“I think you two should pack your bags and fly off with me to somewhere warm and exotic. Why not our place in St. Thomas?” Sharon removed the cover from a plate of cinnamon toast and held it out to Leslie Anne.
“That might not be a bad idea.” Leslie Anne turned to Tessa. “What do you think, Mama? Should we run away and hide, but this time do it as a family?”
“We’ll see,” Tessa replied. “But not until we deal with the situation and find out who created this havoc. Once that’s done, then, yes, I think a family vacation is in order.”
“In the meantime, why don’t you and I get outside this morning,” Sharon suggested. “We can putter in the garden or go horseback riding or just take a walk.”
“Will that be okay?” Leslie Anne asked Tessa.
“Yes, of course. Just stay with Aunt Sharon and don’t go off alone anywhere.”
DANTE KNOCKED on the door of G.W.’s bedroom suite and when he got no response, he tried the door and found it unlocked. When he entered the sitting room, he heard rustling in the other room. Assuming it was G.W., Dante waited. Stay calm and in control, he reminded himself. Don’t lose your temper. Don’t push the old man too far too fast. He’s not going to willingly admit what he did. He has a major investment in Tessa—in Amy—and her daughter. They are his family now. He’ll fight to keep them. God knows G.W. had done a great deal more than lie to his granddaughter about her paternity.
“What the hell’s going on?” G.W. stomped out of the bedroom, putting on his robe as he entered the sitting area. When he saw Dante, he stopped short. “What’s wrong? Has something happened to—”
Dante held up his hand in a stop gesture and walked toward G.W. “Tessa and Leslie Anne are fine. They’re still asleep.”
G.W. let out a relieved breath. “All right. Want to tell me why you were beating my door down at seven in the morning? If it isn’t something urgent, it could have waited until later.”
“It’s urgent,” Dante said.
“You’ve found the person who sent—”
“No, not yet.”
“Then what is it?”
“You might want to sit down, Mr. Westbrook.”
G.W. eyed him suspiciously. “I take it that this is not good news.”
“Not for you.”
G.W. eased down on the settee and glared at Dante. “Well, spill it.”
“While Tessa and I were in Rayville, we met a very interesting old woman who worked at the Maitland Funeral Home seventeen years ago.” By the strained expression on G.W.’s face, Dante could tell he recognized the name of the funeral home.
“So? What has this old woman and that funeral home to do with me and my family or our present situation?”
“You paid for a young blond woman’s body to be cremated and her ashes buried in an unmarked grave. The county coroner, Aaron Maitland, took care of the job for you through his position as the owner of the Maitland Funeral Home. Tell me, G.W., just how much did
you pay him to hide the fact that two of Eddie Jay Nealy’s victims had been found in Richland Parish, only a week apart?”
G.W. sat perfectly still, his face somber, his eyes downcast. “There was another girl, one of Nealy’s victims who died. She fit Tessa’s description, so I was called in to identify the body, in case it was Tessa.”
“And it wasn’t your daughter?”
“No, of course it wasn’t.”
“Why did you cover up the truth about this girl being one of Nealy’s victims? Why have her cremated? Why pay for an expensive pink marble headstone for her? You made sure any evidence of her existence was destroyed.”
G.W. lifted his head and stared at Dante, but his eyes were glazed over with memories. “You know and understand why I covered up what had happened to Tessa. I didn’t want her marked for life by what had happened to her. She’d been through enough. And when I found out that no one had claimed the other girl’s body, that apparently she had no family who was searching for her, I—I made arrangements for her to be taken care of.”
“Why cremation?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the funeral director mentioned something about it being less expensive. I can’t recall the exact reason.”
“It wouldn’t have been because you didn’t want anyone ever digging up the body to identify it?”
“Moran, what’s this all about? What difference does it make to you that there was another victim and that I paid for the funeral?”
Dante moved across the room, taking slow, deliberate steps, never once taking his eyes off G.W. The old man shifted nervously.
“Why did Tessa need plastic surgery?” Dante asked.
“What?”
“She hadn’t been in a car wreck. That was just the story you told. So why did she need to have plastic surgery on her face?”
“Because Nealy had beaten her severely. He’d brutalized her. Her once-pretty face was a bloody mess.”
“That’s odd,” Dante said. “I’ve made a study of each of Nealy’s victims whose body was found. If he disfigured Tessa’s face, she was the one and only woman he did that to. So, why her?”
“How should I know? The man was a maniac.”
“He was a serial killer with a specific M.O.,” Dante explained. “He did brutalize his victims. He beat them, cut them, whipped them, raped them repeatedly and probably tortured them for days. But he always left the woman’s face untouched.”
“Well, he didn’t leave Tessa’s face untouched.”
“I believe he did. I believe that you had a plastic surgeon operate on Tessa’s face for another reason.”
“That’s absurd. Why would I do something like that?”
“You identified the girl in the hospital as your daughter, you brought her back to Fairport and flew in a top-notch plastic surgeon to reconstruct her face, to make her look as much like Tessa Westbrook as he possibly could. But plastic surgery could do only so much.”
G.W.’s face paled. He shook his head.
“You told everyone that she’d been in a car wreck, everyone except your sister. Did you tell her the truth, the whole truth?” Dante asked. “Does she know that the woman you’ve been passing off as Tessa Westbrook for the past seventeen years is really a young girl from Texas named Amy Smith?”
“You’re out of your mind, Moran.” G.W. jumped to his feet. “I didn’t pay the Dundee Agency to—”
“The lies stop now. You’ve been found out.”
“You’re out of your mind, Moran.”
“Did you know that Leslie Anne looks just like Amy Smith?” Dante asked.
“That’s not possible! Besides, how could you possibly know? Where did you get pictures of this Amy Smith?” G.W.’s voice rose louder and louder with each word he spoke.
“Did you know that Amy Smith had a leaf-shaped birthmark identical to Tessa’s and in the exact same spot?”
“What the hell are you talking about? How would you know—”
The door to G.W.’s room flew open and Tessa stood there glaring back and forth from her father to Dante. “What’s going on in here? We can hear you two all the way down the hall? And what was that you just said to my father about Amy Smith and I having identical birthmarks?”
“Tell her,” Dante glowered at G.W. “Tell her or I will.”
“Tell me what?” Tessa looked at her father.
“It’s not true,” G.W. said. “Don’t believe a word he says.”
Tessa entered the room and stood halfway between Dante and G.W. She looked right at Dante and asked, “Whatever it is, I want to know.”
Dante swallowed. God, he’d thought this would be easier. But he suddenly realized that Tessa might not be as thrilled as he was to learn her true identity. It didn’t matter. He’d gone too far to have second thoughts now.
“You’re going to find this difficult to believe,” Dante said. “But I have every reason to believe that you aren’t Tessa Westbrook.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THERE WAS A CHILL in the air this morning, but that wasn’t unusual for late October in Mississippi. Leslie Anne loved this time of year. Autumn was her favorite season when the world around her came alive with brilliant colors. She also loved spending time with Aunt Sharon because her great-aunt said and did the most outrageous things. And she didn’t treat Leslie Anne as if she were a child. Hadn’t it been Aunt Sharon who’d given her that first driving lesson when she was eleven and in Granddaddy’s vintage Porsche no less? And who had answered her question about why little boys had wee-wees and little girls didn’t, when she’d been in kindergarten and Jason Stuart pulled down his pants during playtime? As she’d grown older, she’d come to understand why Granddaddy often criticized his sister for her outrageous lifestyle. Aunt Sharon drank, smoked and cursed like an old sailor. She also had hordes of boyfriends, some young enough to be her son. But despite all her aunt’s flaws, Leslie Anne adored the woman.
As they strolled through the garden, Aunt Sharon puffed on her cigarette, then paused and glanced at Leslie Anne. “Is it too cool out here for you? If it is, we can go back in.”
“I’m fine, if you are. I’d rather be out here when everyone is getting up and things start buzzing in the house again. I don’t see why the whole bunch had to spend the night. It’s not like any of them can actually do a damn thing to help us.”
“Young lady, did I hear the word damn come out of your mouth?” Aunt Sharon’s tone was deadly serious, but she wasn’t able to maintain the accompanying stern look. She kept her lips pressed together in an effort not to smile, but she couldn’t repress a throaty chuckle.
“You do a pretty good imitation of Granddaddy,” Leslie Anne said. “Except he never laughs when he’s scolding me.”
Sharon put her arm around Leslie Anne’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “G.W. doesn’t mean to be such a stick-in-the-mud. He just wants you to be a lady, like your mother and grandmother.”
“I know.”
Sharon nodded. “We could go down to the summerhouse and build a fire in the fireplace. What do you say?”
Before Leslie Anne could reply, Olivia came rushing toward them, all aflutter. It wasn’t until Olivia reached them that Leslie Anne saw Tad standing on the patio, watching. A shiver of uneasiness rippled up her spine. She didn’t like Tad. And she didn’t trust him.
“Sharon, please come with me,” Olivia said, then glanced at Leslie Anne. “It’s nothing to concern you, dear. I—I have a slight emergency and need your aunt’s assistance.” Turning back to Sharon, she looked at her pleadingly. “Now, please. And do hurry.”
“Olivia, what on earth’s gotten into you? Is the house on fire?” Sharon asked.
The highly agitated way Olivia was acting sparked Leslie Anne’s curiosity. “Must be something important. Why don’t we just go back to the house with Olivia—”
“No!” Olivia cried, then took a deep breath. “I mean, there’s no reason for you not to finish your morning walk. Tad will be glad to accompany yo
u.” She glanced over her shoulder and motioned to her son. “I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”
“Oh, all right.” Sharon grimaced, then said to Leslie Anne, “Whatever this is, it shouldn’t take long and then we’ll have the whole morning together. Is that okay with you?”
“Sure, go ahead. I’ll be fine.” She’d be fine all right, but she had no intention of wandering off alone somewhere with Tad Sizemore.
After her aunt and Olivia headed back toward the house, she didn’t wait for Tad to catch up with her before she hurried off toward the summerhouse. She’d build a fire there, then curl up in one of the rattan chairs and do her best to forget, for just a little while, that her life would never be the same again. Not now that everyone in Fairport knew the truth about her and her mother. And if Tad insisted on bothering her, she’d tell him straight out that she didn’t want his company.
“Wait up, kid,” Tad called. “I’ve been assigned to baby-sit you.”
Not slowing down her fast gait, she called back to him, “I don’t need a baby-sitter. Go away and leave me alone.”
“Sorry. Afraid I can’t do that.”
There was something in the way he’d spoken that unnerved her. She paused momentarily, then quickly glanced over her shoulder. Her gut instincts warned her to run. But with Tad blocking the path, she couldn’t run back to the house.
THAT’S IT, LITTLE GIRL. Run. Run as fast as you can. You’re all alone. No one, not even you, realize how alone you really are. How vulnerable. What easy prey. Where are all those Dundee agents when you need them? Inside the house, waiting for instructions and listening to the hullabaloo going on upstairs. Whatever had G.W. so upset that you could hear his ranting and raving throughout the entire house will keep everyone occupied long enough for me to do what has to be done. How convenient that all the attention is focused on G.W. at the moment, that no one is keeping tabs on Leslie Anne.
That’s it, little girl. Keep running. I’m right behind you.
Worth Dying For Page 24
