Blown Away (5 page)

She nodded.

“Still up to stopping by Susan’s house? And please don’t hesitate to say so if you’re not. I can easily get some stuff for you later.”

“No, no, I’d rather do it myself, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing,” Mike said, then put the car in gear and headed for Susan’s. Within fifteen minutes, he was pulling into the driveway. “Hang on,” he said, as he killed the engine. “I’ll help you out.”

Cari waited for him once again, grateful for his assistance as he steadied her on the way to the door. The more time passed, the stiffer she was getting. There were bruises all over her body, which left her with nothing but guesses as to what had happened to her during the tornado.

Mike was going through his own set of issues. He steeled himself as he opened the door, knowing Susan would never greet him again with that happy smile. Still, whatever it was he was feeling, it was nothing compared to what must be going through Cari’s mind.

When he glanced at her, he knew his instincts had been right. She looked like a lost child. Without thinking, he slid his arm around her shoulders, bracing her for what lay ahead.

“Chin up, tough stuff.”

Cari nodded as she gazed around the room. “I haven’t been here in a couple of months, but I know where everything is.”

“I’m coming with you,” Mike said. “No lifting, pushing or pulling for you until you’re better. Oh. Wait. I brought one of my suitcases for you to pack up some stuff. I’ll go get it out of the car.”

Cari moved farther into the living room as Mike ran back out.

The first thing she noticed was the flashing light on Susan’s answering machine. Once again, she was reminded of how involved her impersonation was becoming. There must be appointments to cancel, people who would be expecting answers to their calls. She looked for a pen and paper, and then sat down in the desk chair and punched Play.

The first three calls were nothing more than reminders for appointments. But it was the fourth call that left her shaking.

“Miss Blackwell. I’m Hershel Porter, with the parish police in Bordelaise. Lance Morgan gave me your name and number. I need you to call me back at your earliest convenience regarding a matter of extreme importance.”

“Oh Lord,” Cari said. She knew what was coming. Susan, being the next of kin, was about to be notified of the deaths.

Mike came back in with the suitcase, saw her face and hurried to her.

“What’s wrong?”

Cari played back the message without speaking.

Midway through, Mike’s hand was on her shoulder. By the time the message was over, he knew she had yet another bridge to cross. She was about to become the next of kin—to her own death.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“Make the call,” she said, then took a deep breath, bracing herself for what was coming.

Mike pulled up a chair and sat down beside her.

“I’m here if you need me.”

Cari tried to smile but felt too much like weeping to complete the effort. Her hands were shaking as she dialed the number, then waited for the call to go through. When the police picked up, she went another step deeper into her impersonation of Susan by lengthening her drawl and softening her tone.

“This is Susan Blackwell. I’m returning a message from Chief Porter.”

“Oh!” the dispatcher said. “One minute, please.”

Cari recognized Vera’s voice. She wanted nothing more than to weep on her old friend’s shoulder. Instead she struggled to maintain composure, waiting for Hershel to come on the line. When she finally heard him, she bit her lip, needing pain to shift her focus from breaking down.

“Miss Blackwell?”

“Yes. I had a message to call you?”

She heard him take a deep breath and knew this
wasn’t easy for him. He was a few years older than she was, but, like her, he’d been born and raised in Bordelaise.

“Miss Blackwell, I don’t know if you remember me or not. I think we’ve met several times through the years.”

“Yes, I remember you,” Cari said. “Please…what’s wrong?”

“I’m afraid I have some bad news. The tornado that came through Bordelaise on Sunday hit your aunt and uncle’s property. I’m so sorry to tell you, but Frank, Maggie and your cousin were all killed.”

Cari’s breath caught. Hearing it said aloud—like this—sealed the awful truth. She didn’t have to fake the sorrow.

“Oh Lord… Lord,” she said softly.

“They were at the farm when the tornado hit. Their bodies have been taken to Sumner’s Funeral Home here in Bordelaise. The funeral director has been notified and is expecting your call. Again, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Cari’s voice was shaking. She felt like she was going to throw up. “They’re all the family I had left.”

“I know. I’m so sorry.”

Cari started to cry.

“Would you like the number to the funeral home?” Porter asked.

“Yes…no…yes, I guess.”

All the while Cari was saying the words, the
weight of her reality was hitting anew. By the time she got the number, she was sobbing. She disconnected, then collapsed.

“I can’t do this. I can’t. I need to see my mother. My daddy. Susan… I can’t bury them long distance. I have to be there.”

Mike ached for her. This was, in truth, a hell of a mess. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out,” he said, then handed her his handkerchief. “Are you going to call the funeral home now?”

Cari wiped her eyes, blew her nose, then took a deep breath. “Not yet. I need to think a few minutes. I think I’ll go pack first. Maybe by the time I’m finished, I’ll be able to face talking to someone else.”

“What can I do?” Mike asked.

She pointed to the suitcase. “Carry that into the bedroom for me, I guess.”

“Absolutely,” he said, and followed her down the hall.

Cari started into Susan’s bedroom, then hesitated, once again, staggered by the enormity of what she was about to do. But all it took was remembering Lance and the dead man, and she knew she had no choice. She set her jaw, then strode across the room to the closet as Mike put the suitcase on the bed.

“Let me know when you’re through and I’ll carry it to the car for you,” he said, then left her on her own.

Cari stared at the closet door for a few more moments, then took a deep breath and reached for the
knob. The moment she opened the closet, the scent of lavender hit her like a slap in the face. She shuddered. Lavender. A scent she’d always associated with Susan. Now it would be hers—at least for a time.

Gritting her teeth, she quickly sorted through the clothes on the hangers, choosing several outfits, then carrying them to the bed. She packed quickly, anxious to be gone before her emotions caught up with her again. By the time she’d filled the suitcase, she also had underwear, shoes and sleepwear, along with an assortment of Susan’s makeup. Besides being the same height and size, they shared the same skin tone and hair color, so whatever she used would pass, although the lipstick colors were more subdued than what she would have worn.

She fastened the suitcase and started to drag it off the bed, then remembered the doctor’s orders and stopped. Healing was what she had to do first. Undoing the rest of this mess would come later.

As she started down the hall, the sound of her footsteps on the hardwood floors alerted Mike. He came to meet her, his expression wreathed in concern.

“How you doing,
cher?
”

The tenderness in his voice was nearly her undoing. “Not as well as I’d like,” Cari said. “The suitcase is on the bed. Thank you for carrying it for me.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, leaving her to make her way into the living room.

Suddenly anxious to be out of this house and away
from her cousin’s ghost, she went back to the desk and eased down in the chair. There was still the matter of calling Sumner’s Funeral Home, but while she’d been packing, she had come up with a plan.

Her head was pounding, and there was a bitter taste in her mouth as she picked up the phone. “God. I need this day to be over,” she muttered, and made another call to Bordelaise.

Her call was answered promptly, and once again, she recognized the voice. Sarah Beth Spellman had worked for Sumner’s for as long as Cari could remember, which meant she needed to be careful not to give herself away.

“Sumner’s Funeral Home, Sarah Beth Spellman speaking.”

“This is Susan Blackwell. I’ve been told the North family…my family members…were taken there.”

“Yes, they’re here,” Sarah Beth said. “And, honey…I just want you to know I’m so sorry.”

Cari pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, trying not to say too much, or somehow give herself away, but Sarah Beth’s sympathy was getting to her. It was even more difficult to talk to her than it had been talking to Hershel Porter.

“Thank you,” Cari said shakily.

Sarah Beth continued. “We all know you’re the only surviving family member, so the lawyer for the family has had us wait until you were notified to see if you wanted to be the one to make funeral arrangements.”

“I do…. I just have a couple of problems right now,” Cari said.

“You just name a day and time when you want to come in and make arrangements. We’ll do everything we can to make this as easy as possible for you.”

Cari took a deep breath.
Lord help me make this work.
“I’m grateful for your offer, but I’m going to have to make an unusual request of you.”

“We’ll be honored to do anything we can,” Sarah Beth said.

“I suffered a serious accident a couple of days ago. I just got out of the hospital this morning, and at the moment I’m unable to travel. Not being able to make arrangements in person is devastating to me, but I have no choice. Would it be asking too much if you would—”

At that moment Cari caught a glimpse of a framed photo of herself and Susan, taken last Christmas in front of her mom and dad’s Christmas tree, and came undone. With her focus gone, she was unable to stop the harsh, ugly sobs tearing up her throat.

“I’m sorry… I can’t… I—”

Suddenly the phone was taken out of her hands. She was vaguely aware of Mike’s deep, steady voice, explaining who he was to Sarah Beth and making decisions she couldn’t make for herself. Heartsick to the depths of her soul, she pushed herself up from the chair and stumbled into the kitchen.

She got a glass from the cabinet and thrust it under the faucet, letting it fill, then overflow, unable to stop weeping long enough to take a drink. Suddenly
Mike’s arms were around her, and then he was taking the glass out of her hands and pulling her hard against his chest. She didn’t know he was crying with her, but it wouldn’t have mattered.

“Go ahead and cry,
cher
…cry,” he said softly. “Let it all go. I know…. I know…. It hurts like hell, and you and I both know it’s not fair. I’m sorry. I’m just so, so sorry.”

Cari’s hands were fisted, her anger only slightly less than her sorrow. She tried to push away, but he wouldn’t let her go. Finally she collapsed against him as she screamed, “God…oh God…all I keep wanting to ask is why? Why did they all have to die? Why didn’t I die with them? How can a life go from happy to over that fast?”

“But your life isn’t over,” Mike said. “I don’t know why this happened the way it did, but you owe it to yourself and to your family not to waste what you’ve been given. Live for yourself, and for them.”

Cari knew he was right, and she held on to Mike as if he were her lifeline, leaning on his strength because all of hers was gone. She cried until her eyes were swollen and it hurt to breathe. And with the last of her tears, her legs went out from under her and the room began to spin.

Mike grabbed her just as she went limp. “We’ve been here too long,” he muttered, and carried her into the living room, out the door and back into his car. He cupped her cheek briefly. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, then closed the door.

Cari leaned against the headrest and closed her eyes, wanting this all to be nothing but a nightmare. A hell on earth that would go away just as soon as she opened her eyes. But when she did, all she saw was Mike coming out of the house with a suitcase full of her cousin’s clothes. Their gazes met.

Her heart thudded hard against her chest.

Oh, sweet Jesus. He’s been crying, too.

It was then that she remembered that he, too, had a reason to grieve.

Susan.

Had their relationship been more than boss and employee?

Had he loved her?

M
ike felt a huge sense of loss as he drove away from Susan’s house, knowing it might be the last time he would ever have a reason to be there. Her death closed a door on a big part of his life. He didn’t want to think about telling everyone down at the office what had happened, or how awkward it was going to be to have to try to replace her. How did one replace a best friend and the best damn employee he’d ever had?

He glanced at Cari as he braked for a red light, then quickly looked away. He had to admit, his first impression of her had certainly done a one-eighty. Waiting for her to wake up in the hospital, he’d been certain she was some con artist who’d stolen Susan’s identity. Part of the reason he hadn’t immediately seen the resemblance to Susan was that he wasn’t expecting it, but there was also the fact that whatever hadn’t been bruised on her face and neck had been
bandaged. Never in a million years would he have guessed the staggering truth, or that he would find himself so enmeshed in her deception.

Cari had no idea what was going through Mike’s head, and if she had, she wouldn’t have cared. Dealing with her own misery was overwhelming everything else. Her head was pounding so hard she felt numb, and while the bandages had been removed from her hands before she left the hospital, they were still stinging. It felt as if every bone in her body ached. Added to that, talking to the parish police and passing herself off as Susan, then doing it again with Sarah Beth Spellman, had been draining. That reminded her of the phone call she’d been unable to finish. The least she could do was let Mike know she appreciated his backup.

“Mike…?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for helping me with the call to the funeral home. I thought I could pull it off. Obviously I was wrong.”

“No problem,” he said softly. “It was the least I could do, and I should tell you that the lady said for you not to worry, that she’d treat them as if they were her own family. She knows their clothing was destroyed in the storm, so she’s going to shop for them on her own. We set a time for the services, too. And there was one more thing.”

“What?”

“They won’t be opening Susan’s casket. I assume it’s because of her…of the injuries.”

Cari nodded, as she remembered once again how Susan had looked, and how limp and heavy her body had been as she’d struggled to put on the coat. Then her thoughts went straight to the burial. Another step in the finality of loss. Oh my God. Her parents interred in the family mausoleum. Susan so horribly disfigured that she wasn’t even presentable. This couldn’t be real.

She turned away to stare out the window, unable to talk anymore.

Mike could see the information was hurting her, but the details had to be said.

“They’ll hold services on Thursday at 11:00 a.m. Today is Tuesday. The lady said there’s so much cleanup still going on that waiting an extra day would be better…that everyone knew and loved you and your family, and would want to attend.”

Cari leaned back and closed her eyes, unable to think about it anymore.

Instinctively Mike reached for her hand, then stopped. He had to keep reminding himself that she wasn’t Susan. Unfortunately this was his housekeeper’s afternoon off. There wasn’t going to be anyone to temper the tension between them. Still, he’d offered his help in Susan’s honor, and he wasn’t going to go back on his word.

“Hang in there,” Mike said. “We’re almost home.”

The sun was setting as Lance pulled up to his house and parked. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically, but after witnessing all the devastation, never more grateful to be alive. It did not occur to him to feel guilty that he’d taken someone else’s life or had been willing to end three others to keep the secret. He’d been indulged all his life, and still expected the world to revolve around him and his needs.

His gaze swept the storm-tossed area as he walked toward the veranda. There were things here to be cleaned up as well, but most of it involved downed tree limbs, some missing shingles and a corner off the barn roof.

The only thing that had been pressing was the broken windowpanes inside Morgan’s Reach, and those had been dealt with while he’d been in Bordelaise. Jim Bob Greeley had come out and replaced the glass while Lance had been in town. The rest of the repairs could be dealt with as time permitted.

He bent down and lifted the doormat, retrieving the key he’d given Jim Bob to use, grunting slightly as he straightened up to unlock the door. Remembering that there were four prisoners from the jail who were still missing, he turned around and locked the door behind him as he went inside. It did not occur to him that he was no better than they were—maybe worse. The men who’d been jailed had been arrested for drug trafficking. Lance had committed murder. Yet he’d
already justified his act as necessary and moved on, just as he hoped those prisoners had done.

His steps were dragging as he walked through the house, taking off his clothing as he went. By the time he got to his bathroom, he was nude. The power was back on, which was good. He couldn’t wait to get into a hot shower and then some clean clothes. He turned on the water, waiting until it ran warm as he grabbed a bottle of shampoo. Just as he was about to get into the shower, his phone began to ring. He started to ignore it, then remembered Joe was on his way here, and stepped back into the bedroom and checked caller ID.

When he saw the name Dominic Martinelli, his heart dropped. The Chicago loan shark. The nightmare of losing the family home was once again looming on the horizon. In typical Lance fashion, whatever he couldn’t handle, he ignored. He let the answering machine pick up and strode back into the bathroom.

But the seed of worry had been replanted.

Lance showered, then dressed in sweats and a T-shirt and made his way into the kitchen. As he entered the room, he remembered the broken windows and gave the repair job a closer look. Jim Bob had done well. He saw a broom and a mop in the corner of the kitchen, and realized the repairman had not only swept up the glass, but mopped, as well. It was satisfying to know he had such thoughtful friends.

The light was blinking on the answering machine. When he checked and saw the only call was from
Martinelli, he deleted it without listening. Indignation grew as he checked for leftovers. Surely the chinchy bastard knew they’d suffered a terrible storm here in Bordelaise. Martinelli should have had the decency to wait a few days before dunning him for money.

Lance wouldn’t let himself think of what kind of repercussions Austin Ball’s absence would have back in Chicago, but he knew what he was going to avow. He planned to say he’d never seen the man, so if Ball had planned to visit Bordelaise on Sunday, then it had been a poor decision, because he must have perished in the tornado. The rental car truly
had
been blown away. If it was found, he would have to explain his fingerprints, but other than a phone call Ball had made from Chicago, there was no firm way of tying Lance to the guy, much less to his absence.

The longer he thought about it, the better it sounded. This tornado was still working for him all the way. Not only had it removed the only witness to his crime, but it had also given him support for the claim he intended to make—that he’d never seen Austin Ball.

Just as he was about to sit down to some reheated jambalaya, he heard the front door open. His heart leaped. The only other person who had a key to the house was Joe. He turned off the heat under the pan and hurried into the living room.

Joe Morgan was still in shock from the news Lance had given him. He couldn’t believe his
oldest and dearest friends were all dead—and so horribly. He had been anxious on the short flight from Savannah to Baton Rouge—eager to get home just to see for himself that Lance and Morgan’s Reach were okay. He’d rented a car at the airport in Baton Rouge and started driving toward Bordelaise, needing to see the devastation for himself.

Driving through Bordelaise and seeing his old hometown in such turmoil had been worse than he’d imagined. He’d stopped at Sumner’s Funeral Home, thinking he might be able to see the North family, only to learn they weren’t ready for viewing.

Sarah Beth Spellman hadn’t wasted any time passing on the newest gossip regarding the family, either. According to Sarah Beth, Cari’s cousin, Susan, had been in some kind of accident and just been released from the hospital. There was a question as to whether she would even be well enough to travel to the funeral, which would be held this Thursday.

She’d also passed on the news about four prisoners who’d been in the jail and were still missing, as well as the ongoing search for Katie Earle’s seven-year-old son, Bobby. She warned him to tell Lance to be sure and keep their doors locked, just in case the prisoners were still alive and on the run. Joe could only imagine Katie Earle’s horror, not knowing if her child had been killed in the storm or, as the authorities suspected, kidnapped by her ex. Then Sarah
Beth had added the news that old man Warren, who’d been in the nursing home for years, had died during the evacuation after the storm, making that four people they had to bury this week.

By the time Joe left Bordelaise, he was sick to his stomach. It didn’t get any better when he drove past the North property on his way home. The grand old house that had been there for over a hundred and seventy-five years was gone, as were all the outbuildings. He thought of Lance finding the bodies and wondered how he was holding up.

There had been a time when they’d all believed Cari North would be a part of their family and Joe had been almost as upset with Lance for cheating on her as Cari had been. But blood had turned out to be thicker than water—and infidelity. Ultimately he and Lance had to stick together, no matter what.

When he finally turned down the long driveway toward their house, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Even though the arched trees lining the driveway were missing some of their limbs and leaves, Morgan’s Reach was still there—in all her aging glory.

“Thank you, God,” Joe said softly, and parked next to his brother’s car.

He got out with a sense of urgency, anxious to see Lance’s face and make sure for himself that his younger brother was truly in one piece. He grabbed his suitcase and headed up the steps to the front door.

Lance met him in the foyer just as he walked inside. Joe dropped the suitcase and opened his arms. Lance walked into them with a smile as they hugged.

“Thank the Lord that you and the place were spared,” Joe said, as he clapped Lance on the back. “I can’t believe what a mess Bordelaise is.”

“I know,” Lance said. “I was there almost all day helping with cleanup and rescue.”

Joe grabbed Lance by the shoulders and looked him square in the face.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Lance said.

“I can’t imagine how awful it was for you, finding the Norths.”

Lance looked away, afraid the relief he was feeling would be evident. Luckily Joe mistook his behavior for sorrow.

“I’m heartsick about the whole thing,” Joe muttered. “God. Poor Frank and Maggie. And Cari…so damn young.” He shook his head. “What a horrible way to die.”

Lance nodded, then sighed and quickly changed the subject, aware Joe would think he didn’t want to talk about it due to grief.

“Your room is waiting for you. Wash up, and then come on into the kitchen. I reheated some jambalaya,” Lance said.

“You cooked?” Joe asked.

Lance smiled wryly. “Takeout from in town.”

“Hope it’s some of Mama Lou’s from the Crab Shack.”

“It is,” Lance said.

“Give me five,” Joe said, grabbed his suitcase and headed for his old room.

A few minutes later, they were both at the kitchen table and, like old times, sharing food and memories, as people so often do when there’s a death in the family.

“How long can you stay?” Lance asked, as he spooned some rice into his bowl.

“At least until after the funeral, which is this Thursday, by the way. I thought I’d help you start cleaning up around here, too.”

“That would be great. Jim Bob Greeley was out today and repaired the broken panes in the kitchen windows. I think there are a few missing shingles on the roof and a corner of the barn roof rolled back, but that’s just a matter of nailing the sheet iron back down.”

“I’ll do the shingles and nail down the sheet iron,” Joe offered. “I know you don’t like heights.”

“You’ve got that right,” Lance said, and took a big bite of his food. It didn’t seem strange to him that he was sharing a cozy meal with his brother as if nothing untoward had happened. In his mind, all he’d done was what he’d had to do to save the family home.

Right in the middle of the meal, the phone began to ring. Without thinking, he got up and answered it.

“Hello?”

“So…Mr. Morgan, you’re finally home.”

The moment Lance heard Martinelli’s voice, he knew he’d made a mistake. How was he going to talk to the man without letting Joe know what he’d gotten them into? All he could do was play it by ear.

“Yes. Just,” Lance said. “I’ve been in town all day, helping with search and rescue.”

“Oh? Has someone gone missing?” Martinelli asked.

Lance frowned. “Don’t you watch the news? Hell yes, someone went missing, and some are dead, too. We were hit straight-on by a tornado day before yesterday. Four people are dead…one of them a woman I used to be engaged to…as well as her parents. We also have a little boy we can’t find, along with four prisoners from the jailhouse.”

There was a moment of silence, then he actually heard a hint of sympathy in Martinelli’s voice. It was what he’d hoped for.

“Sorry to hear it,” Martinelli said. “I didn’t know.”

“Yes, well…you can understand how upset we all are. I’m sorry if I sounded a little short, but it’s been hell.”

“Yeah…sure…say, why don’t I give you a call in a day or two?”

“Fine,” Lance said. “That would be most considerate of you.”

“No problem,” Martinelli said. “Oh…say… have you talked to Austin Ball, yet?”

Lance’s heart skipped a beat. “Who?”

“Austin Ball…he’s one of my lawyers.”