Blown Away (14 page)

So if it was Cari who’d survived all along, then why this elaborate masquerade? Why didn’t she just go to the police? Why didn’t she tell what she’d seen?
Then it hit him. Oh shit! She did tell. Mike Boudreaux knew who she was. He had to. Who else had she told? How many others knew what he’d done?

His heart began to hammer out a warning.

Run, Lance, run!

She hadn’t told the police, because when she’d run home for help, the tornado had hit.

Run, Lance, run!

She hadn’t told, because when she found everyone dead, she was too injured herself to face him on her own.

Run, Lance, run!

And, even more crucially, she hadn’t told, because she would have known he would move the body.

Run, Lance, run!

So what was she waiting for? A sign from God?

At that moment, a clap of thunder sounded so loud that it rattled the glass in the windows.

Run, Lance, run!

Lance jumped as if he’d been shot, then grabbed his car keys and raced out of the house. He was in the car and flying out of the driveway even as the first drops of rain began to fall. When he turned down the driveway that led to the North property, the back of his car fishtailed. The rich Louisiana land that grew thriving crops of peanuts and soybeans had turned into black gumbo.

“Crap,” Lance grunted, as he straightened the wheels, just missing the fence.

Moments later he’d reached the place where the North house had stood. Despite the dark and the rain, he bolted out of the car and began running from one pile of refuse to another, stumbling about in the downpour with nothing but his headlights and the occasional flash of lightning to guide him.

Run, Lance, run!

Even though it made no sense, he continued to retrace the steps he’d taken the day he’d found the bodies, as if their ghosts might still be lingering with answers he’d missed the first time around.

The rain was beginning to abate, but the wind was rising, whipping the splintered trees and blowing loose bits of refuse across the yard. Lance was staring off into the darkness, oblivious to danger or discomfort. His thoughts were in chaos. He didn’t know why he’d come here, but the troubles he’d thought were behind him were back—and in stereo.

Overwhelmed with rage and despair, he threw back his head, raised his fists to the night and screamed.

Suddenly there was a loud crash behind him. He spun just as a huge branch came crashing to the ground only feet from where he was standing.

Run, Lance, run!

Without waiting to see what was coming next, he made a beeline for his car.

Once inside, he slammed the door shut, then locked the car tight, even though no locks could protect him from what he was facing. Water was
running from his hair into his eyes, dripping from his clothing onto the seats, puddling on the floor beneath his muddy shoes.

Twice he reached for the keys to start the engine, but each time he stopped, trembling too hard to drive.

So he sat, shaking from the wet and the shock until a good half hour had passed. Finally he pulled himself together enough to start the engine. The wheels spun in the thick, black mud before he gained traction, and then he was off. The storm was passing as quickly as it had arrived. Except for the muddy roads and the stiff wind blowing away the last of the clouds, it was as if it had never happened. It was just as well, because Lance didn’t remember the drive home—only that the sight of Morgan’s Reach was the beacon he needed to put his life back on track.

When he got inside the mudroom, he stripped out of his wet clothes and left them in a pile as he strode naked through the house. Rage warred with unadulterated panic as he stepped into the shower and turned on the faucets. He stood without moving until the hot water ran cold; then he dried off and crawled into bed without turning on the lights, as always, refusing to face what he couldn’t handle.

But he couldn’t escape that easily.

The moment he closed his eyes, one image after another, taken from the years and years of past indiscretions, flashed before his eyes, ending with the
worst mistake of all. Murder. If he could, he would take it back. But it was too late. Austin Ball was rotting beneath the good delta land of Morgan’s Reach, and Lance’s troubles, which he’d thought were all over, were turning into nightmares.

He tossed and turned until he was unable to spend another moment in bed. With a muttered curse, he threw back the covers and stomped through the house to the library and his father’s liquor cabinet. He grabbed a decanter of bourbon, a cut crystal shot glass and headed for the sofa.

In the morning, he would figure out how to get to Cari/Susan. He would strip off all the bandages and the sling and the hair gel, and look her square in the face. He would know then if what he suspected was true: that today the town of Bordelaise had buried a woman under the wrong name. If he was right, then it would be up to him to make sure the real Carolina North joined her family. He had no way of knowing how many other people knew the truth, but without Cari as a witness, and without a body, they couldn’t touch him.

But that was tomorrow’s agenda. Right now, he was about to get shit-faced drunk.

Cari slept all the way back to Baton Rouge. Looking at her, Mike knew that what he was feeling was crazy. They hadn’t even known each other a week, and most of that time she’d either been in the
hospital, struggling through grief or trying to figure out how to get herself out of the mess she was in. Still, there were the brief flashes of levity, and in the rare moments when he’d caught a true smile on her face, he’d known he wanted to be the one responsible for putting it there.

He didn’t know if her amazing resemblance to Susan had cut through his usual reticence, or if it was just the woman herself. When he thought about all she’d gone through, and how tough and focused she’d been in her determination to save herself and bring a killer to justice, he was in awe. He had never known a woman with that kind of courage, and his admiration for her was tangled up with his growing attraction. All the way home, he kept thinking of her making the same trip all alone, with life-threatening injuries and the belief that a killer was on her trail.

And now that they’d finished the sad business of burying her family, there was another, uglier, task to be tackled. He didn’t know how they were going to make it happen, but he was going to do everything in his power to help her find the murdered man’s body. As soon as he got her home, he would fill Aaron in on what they were going to need to search, and then go from there.

As he neared the turnoff, Cari shifted in her seat, then moaned. Mike glanced at her once, then negotiated the turn and accelerated down the long, tree-
lined driveway to his home. Normally the sight of the three-story plantation house and the live oaks dripping with Spanish moss gave him a good, coming-home feeling, but not today. He was too concerned about how his sleeping beauty was going to feel when he awakened her.

A few moments later he pulled around to the back of the property and parked only a few steps from the veranda. If she didn’t wake up, it wouldn’t be far to carry her inside. He killed the engine, pocketed the keys, then allowed himself a final moment to look his fill.

Her hair was tousled, her lips devoid of the gloss she’d used earlier. He could see dark smudges beneath her eyes and knew she’d exerted herself too much, but it couldn’t be helped. However, it was the tiny beads of tears on her lashes that pushed him over the edge.

Without further hesitation, he reached for her hand.

“Carolina…sweetheart…wake up,” he said softly.

Emerging from a dreamless sleep, Cari roused, then took a slow, deep breath.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, we’re home,” Mike said, and then got out and circled the car to help her out.

At the sound of his door slamming shut, reality surfaced. The tornado. The hospital. The funeral. She sat up with a jerk. But she’d moved too fast.

“Ow,” she cried, then reached for the door, but Mike was already ahead of her.

“Let me,” he said, as he slipped his hands under her arms and steadied her while she got out.

Cari grimaced. “It feels like someone glued my joints.”

“You had a pretty long day,” Mike said, then couldn’t help himself and brushed a wisp of hair away from the corner of her eye.

His touch was as gentle as his voice. Cari wanted to hide in the shelter of his arms, but she couldn’t let him fight all her battles, even though the idea was tempting.

“I know, but I had no choice. It was my family,” Cari said, then glanced up and quietly added, “Thank you so much for being with me.”

Mike’s gut knotted. Empathy intertwined with longing, and she was close—so close. He cupped her face, intent on a simple kiss to her forehead, but she surprised him by tilting her head back and catching the kiss.

Mouth to mouth.

Breath to breath.

When Mike’s hands slid down her neck and around her shoulders, Cari moaned.

He flinched and immediately let go. “I’m so sorry, honey…did I hurt you?”

“Yes,” she said, and watched regret flash across his face.

“Damn it. I should have known better. Where do you hurt?”

“Here,” Cari said, and laid his hand on her breasts, just above her heart.

His eyes widened in sudden understanding, then he sighed.

“Damn it, woman…you scared me,” he said softly.

“No more than you’re scaring me,” she said.

“God, help me,” he whispered, then centered his mouth on her lips and took his time removing the last of her good sense and all of her inhibitions.

When he finally pulled back, Cari’s legs were shaking and her heart was hammering in her chest.

“Ah…Carolina…what have we done?”

She arched an eyebrow, then almost smiled. “Moved beyond proper social boundaries?”

Her sassiness was unexpected, and enchanting. He smiled as he shook his head and ran a finger along the curve of her lower lip.

“A definite understatement, I think. So, tough stuff…you’ve crossed more than boundaries today. I can see the exhaustion on your face, which means I could have chosen a better time to give in to my feelings.”

“Help me off with this sling, will you?” Cari asked.

Mike eased it from around her neck, freeing her other arm. Cari immediately slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him. It was as unexpected as what she said next.

“I don’t know what’s happening here, and if it’s nothing but a gesture of condolence, I’ll take it as
such. But…if you’re leaning toward investigating what might turn into a relationship, don’t let the staples and bruises stop you.”

“I’m definitely leaning,” he said.

“Me too,” she said, then, before he could push the issue, picked up her purse from the front floorboard and slung it over her shoulder.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Almost five.”

She sighed. “Is that all? For obvious reasons, I want this day to be over.”

Mike cupped the side of her face “I know,
cher,
and you have the rest of the evening to do as you wish. If you want to spend it in your room, I can have Songee bring you supper.”

She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, then changed the subject before she started to cry. “No need for anything that drastic, but I wonder if she might have some sweet tea already made? I’m suddenly thirsty.”

“Songee always has sweet tea,” Mike said, as he led the way up the back steps and into the house.

“I want to change clothes,” Cari said.

“Me too,” Mike said. “Would you like me to have Songee bring the tea to your room?”

“I think I would rather sit out on the veranda for a while and just listen to the quiet.”

“Then that’s what you should do,” Mike said.

They made the trip up the stairs with Mike holding
on to Cari’s elbow, steadying her weary steps. When they reached her room, he stopped her again.

“Do you need any help?” he asked.

Cari couldn’t quite read the expression on his face, but she’d liked the kiss that they’d shared—a lot. And if she wasn’t so damned tired and sick at heart, she would have liked to explore what else there was about him that she might like even better. But that was for later. Right now, she needed to put today far, far away. She could deal with the memories later.

“I think I can manage. Just give me a few minutes.”

As she closed the door to her room, she didn’t dare look back for fear he would see the truth of her feelings all over her face.

In a few minutes Cari had changed into a pair of Susan’s jeans and a blue knit pullover, and was on her way downstairs. It felt good to be in sandals instead of heels, and she was looking forward to a little peace and quiet and some fresh air. As she passed Mike’s office, she heard voices and realized he had company. After the events of the day, the last thing she wanted was more conversation, so she hurried past the door.

Songee was carrying a watering can toward the large potted palms in the foyer as Cari approached. She paused long enough to give Cari the once-over, then frowned.

“You don’t look so good,” she said. “I’m thinking you’ve had all of today you can handle. Mr. Mike
said you were tired and thirsty, so I set some iced tea on the veranda for you. You go on outside now and just relax. It’ll do you good.”

Cari wanted to hug her neck for being so understanding. “Thank you, Songee,” she said and slipped past.

“You’re welcome,” Songee said gently. “Take all the time you need. We eat lots of late suppers around here.”

Cari exited through the French doors and out onto the veranda. As promised, there was a pitcher of iced tea and two glasses, along with a small plate of bar cookies, on the round wicker table.

Cari poured a glass of tea and then plumped the green cushions and eased herself down.

The glass was cold in her hand, the cushions soft at her back. Within moments, as she gazed out across the wide lawn to the boundary of trees beyond, she felt lighter, as if the sadness she’d been living with had just taken flight along with the snowy-white egrets she saw flying past.