by Kara Lennox
“All so he could move up in the department?”
“Ambition can be a potent motivator. He probably saw himself as a captain—maybe even sheriff.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted just from talking. How unfortunate those two men had found each other. Each probably validated the other’s ruthless ways.
“You okay?” Hudson asked, his voice laced with concern.
“I heard your voice. When I was in heaven...dreaming about heaven.”
“Yeah? What did I say?”
“You said you loved me. That’s what made me want to come back...from heaven. But I guess I can’t hold you to something I dreamed.”
“You didn’t dream it. I mean, maybe you did, but I said it. I’ve been sitting here for two hours waiting for you to wake up, and I told you I loved you about a hundred times. I do. I want to try again. I’ll do better, I swear. I just don’t think we should throw out what we have because we hit a little bump in the road.”
She hesitated. They were so different. But she didn’t doubt that he loved her. She could feel it. They might not always agree, but what couple did? The important thing was how they dealt with conflict, and she felt they’d already learned a lot about how to respect each other’s positions.
“Of course we can try again. I love you, too....” Elizabeth had opened her eyes again. That was when she noticed two uniformed officers standing against the wall, almost as if they were at attention. They stared straight ahead, but of course they’d just heard the entire conversation between her and Hudson.
“Who are those men?” she asked.
“Oh. I thought you saw them earlier. I’m sort of...in custody. There was still a warrant out for my arrest.”
“How come you’re not in jail, then?”
“Daniel. He pulled some strings so I could come talk to you.”
“My God, he must have thought I was going to die. I’m not, am I?” She felt pretty horrible, like Riverdance and all their relatives were performing inside her skull, and someone had filleted her arm.
“You better not. Anyway, I think it’s just a matter of some paperwork to get me released. Try not to worry about it.”
She hoped he was right. But come to think of it, only she and Tonda had heard Knightly’s confession. And who would take Elizabeth’s word for it? She wasn’t exactly unbiased.
Carla poked her head in the door of Elizabeth’s room. “You’re awake?”
“Sort of,” Elizabeth answered.
“Good. Hudson, you have to go now.”
Hudson squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “Get better. I’ll be back soon as I can, okay?”
“Okay.”
“We’re good now, right?”
“We’re golden, Hudson. I love you, and if you get me some morphine, I’ll marry you.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
* * *
THE UPSTAIRS BALCONY off the master bedroom afforded an excellent view of the tennis courts.
It was almost December, six weeks since Elizabeth had been released from the hospital. She was done with physical therapy for her arm; the wound was healing nicely. She would always have a scar, but it wouldn’t be that bad.
Elizabeth leaned against the balcony railing, watching as men with jackhammers tore up the tennis court concrete and hauled it away. A few days earlier, the police had come with ground-penetrating radar to search for her mother’s grave site. They said Knightly could have learned the location from something he’d read in Detective Vilches’s notes. Or he might have been making up the story about her mother out of sheer spite.
But the radar had found a suspicious area where the soil had obviously been disturbed to a depth of three to four feet. Cadaver dogs had been brought in; they’d confirmed that human remains were nearby. Amazing that they could sniff out a body covered with dirt and concrete. One of the handlers, Zeke, had said his dog could even sniff out a body that was submerged in a lake.
Now the police were going to find out exactly what was under that tennis court.
Hudson stood beside her, his arm around her waist, keeping the vigil with her.
“Are you sure you want to watch this?” he asked for the third time.
“Yes. I have to know. Once they find something...once they confirm it’s human remains...I’ll go inside. If there’s a body, I’m sure it’s hers.”
She actually felt okay about all this. She’d done grieving for her mother years ago. When Holly had failed to contact her, when she hadn’t come back to get her daughter, Elizabeth had known with a hundred percent certainty that she was dead.
Over the past few weeks, she’d come to terms with the fact that her father had killed her mother. For a long time, she’d clung to the belief that, despite his ruthless actions, her father had some good inside him, that he’d loved her, even if he’d chosen to show that love in an unacceptable manner.
But now she knew—the man had been bad through and through. When the police had finally released his remains, she’d had him cremated, and had asked the funeral home to dispose of the ashes. He didn’t deserve the dignity of a proper funeral and burial. So, no more grieving for him.
As for her mother, she planned to give her the service she deserved—a celebration of her too-short life.
“The estate lawyer says my father’s assets should be released soon.” The authorities had tried to seize the whole thing, claiming it was all derived from criminal activity and should therefore go to the state. But her lawyer had successfully argued that Franklin Mandalay’s legitimate business dealings had earned far more than his criminal enterprises. Elizabeth had offered to donate two million dollars to a victims’ relief fund, and the government had dropped its claim.
“So, you’re soon to be a very rich woman.”
“Not for long.”
“Are you really going to donate it all to charity?” Hudson didn’t disapprove of her philanthropy. He seemed in awe of her generosity.
Elizabeth had originally planned to simply turn over the estate to one of the large, established charities. But then she’d got another idea.
“I’m not going to donate it. I’m going to take a page from Daniel’s book and start my own nonprofit foundation. It’s going to be a shelter for women like Tonda. Only it’s not just going to be a safe haven. I’m going to help women who want to start a new life. Whether they’re prostitutes who want to get out of the life or victims of abuse or addicts, I’ll offer them a way out. The whole package. I’ll help them get healthy, I’ll help them figure out what they want to do with their lives, help them get education or job training, provide child care, nice clothes for job interviews. If they don’t feel safe staying in Houston, I’ll help them relocate.”
“Wow.” Hudson looked stunned. “Wow. That’s a lot of helping.”
“This house has plenty of bedrooms. And I already talked to Mrs. Ames. She wants to stay on and become a part of it. And Tonda—she wants to help, too.”
Every time she thought of the recent choices Tonda had made, Elizabeth beamed with pride, as if she were responsible. And maybe she could take a little credit—she’d been counseling Tonda for more than a year.
As she’d been lying in the grass outside her apartment, waiting for medical help, Tonda had decided to quit selling her body to strangers. She was going to get herself and her unborn child out of her precarious situation—somehow.
Jackson had come to the hospital the moment he’d heard Tonda was hurt. She’d been prepared to tell him they were through. But Jackson had surprised her. Apparently, impending fatherhood, and almost losing Tonda, had been a wake-up call. He’d promised he was done with prostitutes and drugs. Although Tonda had lost the baby, Jackson wanted them to make a fresh start. He’d sworn he would straighten out his life, get a real job and treat her like the queen she was, if only she wouldn’t leave him.
Elizabeth would have bet her whole fortune that he was feeding Tonda a line. But so far, he’d kept his word. He’d moved the
m to a better apartment in a safer neighborhood, started working at his uncle’s mechanic shop and came home every night. He’d stopped drinking. Started running. From everything Tonda said, he was now a doting boyfriend, and they were even talking about getting married.
Such transformations were rare, but not unheard of, and Elizabeth was cautiously optimistic that Jackson was truly a changed man. She would welcome Tonda’s help with her new foundation. Unlike Elizabeth, Tonda knew firsthand what these women were going through, and her insights would be invaluable.
“It sounds like a lot of work.”
“I’m sure it will be.”
“You gonna still have time for me?”
She turned away from the tennis court. Looking at Hudson was much more pleasant. “Of course. I seem to remember something you did that was really nice at the hospital.”
“I did a lot of nice things at the hospital. There was that nice bouquet of roses I sent, the special meals I had delivered, the candy...”
“No, I’m talking about the morphine. Right after you left my room that first day a nurse came bustling in, and she was all about upping my morphine drip.”
He grinned. “Oh, yeah, I did have something to do with that.”
“And do you remember what I said I would do if you got me morphine?”
“I seem to recall something... Now, what exactly was it you said?”
Elizabeth felt suddenly self-conscious. “Let’s go inside,” she said. “I don’t need to watch this.” They exited the balcony through the French doors, but her father’s old bedroom hardly seemed an appropriate place to have a serious conversation. She dragged Hudson all the way downstairs and into the kitchen, the room she still thought of as the happiest place in the house.
Mrs. Ames had obviously been baking again. The kitchen smelled of yeast and vanilla. Elizabeth busied herself opening the refrigerator, getting out a carton of orange juice, pouring it into a couple of glasses.
“Is something wrong?” Hudson asked. “You seem a little nervous.”
She took a fortifying gulp of the juice. “In all seriousness, with you living in Conroe, and me living and working in Houston, we do an awful lot of driving just to see each other. I was thinking... Maybe we could find a place halfway between—”
“I’ve already talked to a Realtor about putting my place on the market.”
“But you love your lake house. And your boat. What if we want to go water-skiing sometime?”
“Well...I thought we should live closer.”
“Oh, me too!”
“I can’t afford two places.”
“So, you’ll move in with me. And we can keep your place as our weekend getaway.” She said this casually, as if it was no big deal.
Hudson put his hand to his chin, seeming to think about her proposition. “Well, now, I don’t know. It seems to me you promised something a little bit better than a roommate situation. And I did get the nurse to up your morphine dosage. I had to flirt with her, too, which, if you saw the nurse, was no easy feat.”
Elizabeth’s heart swelled. He did remember. “Even though I was drugged up at the time, I meant what I said. I would marry you, if you wanted.”
Hudson dropped all pretense of teasing. He took the glass of orange juice out of her hand and set it on the counter, then took both of her hands in his. “Elizabeth Downey, I never in my whole life dreamed I could marry a woman like you. I would be honored and privileged to be your husband. We can live anywhere you want to live, keep the lake house or sell it, I don’t care. As long as it’s forever.”
“I can’t believe this.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I was picturing something a whole lot more romantic. I mean, the tennis court...” She winced. “But yes. The answer is yes, anywhere, anytime.”
* * * * *
Be sure to look for Kara Lennox’s next PROJECT JUSTICE book, In This Together, available in October 2013!
Keep reading for an excerpt from His Uptown Girl by Liz Talley!
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CHAPTER ONE
New Orleans, 2013
“HOT GUY AT TWO O’CLOCK,” Pansy McAdams said, craning her head around the form mannequin and peering out the window.
Eleanor Theriot rolled her eyes and swiped her dust cloth over the spindles of the rocker she knelt beside. “You think half of New Orleans is hot.”
“No, I’m just optimistic.”
“Or need a good optometrist.”
Pansy didn’t turn her head from whoever had drawn her attention. “I have perfect vision, thank you very much, and this one is worth the drool I’ll have to wipe off the glass.”
Eleanor pushed past Pansy, who’d plastered her nose to the window of the Queen’s Box. Eleanor could only imagine the picture her friend and employee presented to passersby. Pig nose.
But no actual drool.
“Let me be the judge,” Eleanor said, playing along. Pansy had spent the past month reminding Eleanor of her resolution to get back into the dating game. When Eleanor had examined her life, as everyone is wont to do on New Year’s Day, she’d discovered her home felt empty, and most of her lingerie had been purchased from a wholesale club. Time to start dating again, to start claiming a new life for herself outside widowhood and motherhood. Up until now, Eleanor had been good at ignoring the male sex—hot or otherwise—but today, Eleanor felt game. Maybe it was the phone call earlier from her mom, who had cut out an article about healthy living for the premenopausal woman.
Not that Eleanor was going through menopause.
Yet.
So an innocent ogle sounded...harmless.
Across the street, in front of the place where tradesmen had been streaming in and out like worker bees, was a pickup truck. Leaning against the side of that truck was someone who made her swallow. Hard.
Pansy soooo didn’t need glasses.
The man resembled an Aztec prince. Like his honeyed skin should be twined in gold and turquoise, bedecked in a feathered headdress. And a loincloth. He’d be breathtaking in a loincloth.
“Told ya,” Pansy said, shouldering Eleanor out of the way. “He could eat crackers, chips and freakin’ beignets in my bed any day of the week.”
“Not sure your husband would appreciate an extra bedmate.”
“Eddie lets the dog sleep with us. What’s one more hairy beast?” Pansy straightened the ceremonial Mayan mask that sat next to the silver candelabra in the window display before sliding off the edge of the window stage, her long body loose and loping. Pansy was over six feet tall, flat-footed and thin to the point of painful, but she had a sharp sense of humor and a heart that was big, fat and full of good cheer. Like Santa Claus in Olive Oyl’s body.
Eleanor glanced again at the man standing beside the pickup, peering at his phone. He wore well-worn jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. His face had a sort of sexy Brad Pitt thing going on with sensuous lips, but his jaw was hard, nose straight, brows dark and drawn to a V as he tapped on the phone. His skin was a creamy café au lait and his hair jet-black, clipped close to his head. Broad shoulders and narrow hips finished off the visual treat. A damn chocolate cupcake from Butterfield’s Bakery wasn’t as tempting as this man. “Hey,” Pansy whispered over Eleanor’s shoulder, making her jump. “You should go get him and see how you like sleeping on cracker cr
umbs.”
“I already know I don’t like sleeping on cracker crumbs.”
“With the right guy, you’ll never feel ’em. Trust me.”
Running a hand over a well-crafted Federal chest of drawers, Eleanor turned to Pansy and wiggled her fingers. “Dust.”
“Chicken.”
Eleanor wasn’t going outside to talk to a guy leaning against a work truck. She wasn’t that kind of girl. Never had been...even if she was determined to get out there...wherever “there” was. “No way.”
“Candy ass.”
“Calling me names won’t work. Get the lemon oil and let’s make sure our pieces up front look pretty. Tourists will be pouring in with Mardi Gras weekend coming up. I could use some sales.”
Pansy propped her fists on angular hips and narrowed her piercing blue eyes. “Come on, El. What will it hurt to do a little flirting? You’ll probably never see him again and you need to get your feet wet. Beyond time, sugar.”
Yeah, it was way beyond time. That’s what her daughter, Blakely, had yelled at her over a month ago—to get her own life. But Eleanor wasn’t going outside and getting her feet wet with some random house painter. Even if she’d never see him again. Even if it was harmless, silly and somewhat daring. “I’m moving on, Pansy. I am. I even checked out that eHarmony site last night, but I’m not the kind of girl who goes up to a random guy and says, uh, I wouldn’t even know what to say.”
“Pretend you’re locked out and need a screwdriver or something to jimmy the lock. I’ll hide in the back.”
“Jimmy the lock? Who are you? Nancy Drew?”
Pansy faked an elaborate laugh. “You’re so funny. Share it with the sex god across the street. Unless you’re...chicken?”
Eleanor looked around the antiques store that had been her salvation, first after the hurricane and then after the sex scandal, and felt the security she always did when she really thought about who she was. Did she want to be another relic of the past like the beautiful pieces in her store? Hmm. Pansy was right. Blakely was right. She needed to step out and get a life. “Okay. Fine.”
