Dark Water (5 page)

The moment she thought it, she choked on her last bite.

“You okay?” Tony asked as he thumped her on the back.

“I'm fine,” she said, and rose from the table to take her bowl to the sink, using it as an excuse to put some distance between them. She didn't want to think about Tony DeMarco and sex—at least, not in the same thought.

Tony saw the stiff set to her shoulders and frowned. She had accepted his invitation to stay at his house, but he was a long way from gaining her confidence. He opted for a change of subject.

“It's started to rain.”

“Yes, I noticed,” Sarah said, as she rinsed her dishes and put them in the dishwasher.

Tony tried another tack. “What are your plans?” When Sarah turned abruptly and gave him a cool, judgmental stare, he felt obligated to add, “If you don't mind me asking.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “I thought you might like some company.”

“Are you offering?” she asked.

He almost smiled, but thought better of it.

“Yes.”

She nodded. “Then thank you. I accept.”

He had been prepared to argue his case and was surprised by her easy acquiescence.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Eventually, to the sheriff's office. However, there are a couple of places I want to stop at first.”

“Like where?” he asked.

“I haven't been back to my mother's grave since I left Marmet.”

“Where else?”

She glared.

When he realized she didn't like being questioned so closely, he changed the subject. “When do you want to go?”

“In about ten minutes…if that's all right with you. I have a phone call I need to make first.”

“It's fine, Sarah, and please take your time. I'll be in the living room when you're ready.” He added, “Dress warm. The rain could change to snow.”

“I'm missing New Orleans already,” she muttered.

As he watched her leave, he couldn't help but wonder if there were other reasons besides weather that made her long for New Orleans. And as he did, he decided he didn't like the thought of her with another man. It had been years since he'd experienced anything resembling jealousy, but he was feeling it now. He considered himself self-assured and confident, yet he felt more like a teenager wondering if he had a chance with the prom queen.

Upstairs, Sarah was curled up on her bed with the phone to her ear, counting the rings at Lorett Boudreaux's house. Just when she thought she was going to have to give up and try again later, her call was answered.

“Sarah Jane…it
is
you.”

Sarah sighed, picturing the ebony features of her beloved Lorett wreathed in smiles.

“Don't pull that psychic stuff on me this early in the morning,” Sarah said. “You have caller ID.”

Lorett chuckled. “I still knew it was you.”

Sarah laughed but didn't dispute her aunt's claims. There had been too many times when she'd seen her in action to doubt the gift she had. Just hearing Lorett's voice made her feel easier. She leaned back against the pillows on the bed and pulled her knees up to her chest, ready to unburden herself. She should have known it was unnecessary.

“Who is the man you are with?” Lorett asked.

Sarah rolled her eyes. Although there was no way Lorett could have known about Tony's unexpected appearance in her life, she'd never been able to hide anything from Aunt Lorett, so the question didn't really surprise her.

“A friend…I think. His name is Anthony DeMarco.”

“That is not what he is called.”

Sarah smiled. “As always, you're correct. Some people call him Silk.”

There was a very pregnant silence, and then Lorett's whiskey-deep voice vibrated against Sarah's eardrum.

“He's a man with secrets, Sarah Jane.”

Sarah glanced at the door, half expecting him to walk into the room. “Will they hurt me?” she asked.

“No.”

“Everyone has secrets. His obviously don't concern me.”

“Oh, but they do,” Lorett said. “But that's for another time. How are you,
ma petite?
”

The tenderness in Lorett's voice brought a knot to Sarah's throat.

“I'm all right…or at least I will be when I can put Daddy to rest.”

“He's been with the Lord for twenty years, Sarah Jane. It's you who must bury the past.”

“I'm trying, Aunt Lorett, but I can't stop until I know who did this. He didn't just kill my father, he killed Mother, too. It wasn't only money he stole, he stole my life.”

Lorett didn't like what she was hearing.

“Vengeance is dangerous.”

“So is murder.”

“It's not your place to seek justice. Leave that to the law.”

“Just like we did before? I don't think so. Besides, I'm not a child anymore. This time they can't make me go away. Not until I'm ready.”

“There are shadows in your future, Sarah Jane.”

“Well, when you see who's hiding in them, let me know,” she said, then looked at her watch. “I'll call you again in a day or so. Tony is waiting for me downstairs.”

“You tell that man I said to keep you safe.”

“Now, Aunt Lorett, if there's one thing you taught me, it's that I don't need a man to do anything for me. I'll keep myself safe.”

“I did not raise you to hate men, Sarah Jane.”

Sarah sighed. “No. Michael did that for me.”

Lorett frowned, thinking back seven years to the man Sarah had been in love with, the man who'd given her a ring, the same man Sarah had caught in bed with her best friend only weeks before their wedding.

“Don't blame all men for one man's weaknesses.”

“I know,” Sarah said. “I didn't mean that to sound as bitter as it came out. I'm over Michael…really. It's just that all this has been so horrible and shocking. Each day I wake up, thinking it will all have been nothing more than a bad dream.”

“You're a strong woman. You will do what has to be done.”

“Yesterday I went to the lake.”

Lorett said nothing, waiting for the rest of Sarah's pain to spill out, knowing it was the only way to cleanse the horror from her mind.

“It's different than I remembered. The surface of the water was like black glass.” She shuddered. “I can see it from Tony's house.”

“And this is a problem?”

“Just thinking about Daddy being down there for all that time gives me the creeps. Oh, Aunt Lorett, say prayers for me, will you?”

“You know I will. Now go to your man and remember what I said about shadows.”

“Yes, all right,” Sarah said, and then added before Lorett disconnected, “I love you, Aunt Lorett.”

“
Oui, ma chère,
I love you, too.”

It wasn't until Lorett disconnected that Sarah realized she had referred to Tony DeMarco as her man.

 

By the time they got to the cemetery, the rain had changed to a cold drizzle, leaving the air feeling thick, almost too thick to breathe. Moisture dripped from the harlequin-colored leaves, splattering onto the ground in intermittent patterns as they got out of the car.

Sarah looked out across the acres of tombstones and shuddered. Almost instantly, Tony was at her side. He slid a hand beneath the collar of her coat and gently squeezed the nape of her neck.

“Are you all right?”

She looked at him, seeing the concern and compassion in his eyes, and shrugged out of his grasp, unable to accept the tenderness for fear that she would cry.

“I haven't been all right for twenty years.”

Tony ignored her quarrelsome attitude. Truth was, he wasn't so damn sure that he wouldn't feel the same way—maybe worse.

“Do you know where your mother's grave is located?”

Sarah turned, her gaze shifting to the area on their left.

“Over there somewhere.”

He held out his hand. “Come on. We'll find it together, then I promise to give you some space.”

“You don't have to, you know.”

He frowned. “Damn it, Sarah, I'm not the enemy. Let me help.”

She hesitated before she shrugged. “Yes…all right. I—”

“Just a minute,” Tony said, and went back to the car.

Sarah watched as he popped the trunk and leaned down.

When he stepped back, he was carrying a handful of amber chrysanthemums. She recognized them from the flower beds in front of his house.

“I thought you might want something to put on her grave,” he said, and thrust them toward her.

His thoughtfulness shamed her as she took the bouquet and clutched it close to her chest.

“I don't know what to say.” She lowered her head, inhaling the crisp scent of the blossoms.

“‘Thank you' will suffice.”

She looked up. He was smiling. Tears filmed her vision and thickened her voice.

“You're not as tough as you would have people think, are you?” she asked.

“If you tell, I'll deny it,” he said softly, and cupped her elbow. “Come on, honey. Let's go find your mother.”

Sarah let him guide her, not because she felt incapable of dealing with the moment, but because he seemed so sincere in wanting to help.

“The day of the funeral, I remember standing next to a tombstone that was a praying angel.”

“That should make it easier to find,” he said, and started searching the horizon for something other than the traditional grave markers.

But before they'd gone far, a car pulled into the cemetery and parked behind Tony's car. Because they were intent on their search, the driver had gotten out of the car and was almost upon them before they realized they were no longer alone.

At first Sarah didn't recognize the woman, but then the woman smiled.

“Miss Blake?”

Moira Blake's smile widened as she enveloped Sarah in a hug.

“I wasn't sure if you'd remember me,” Moira said. Her smile softened. “It's wonderful to see you again, all grown-up.”

Sarah was a little taken aback by the woman's friendly welcome. She barely remembered her as someone who'd worked in her father's bank.

“I was a little girl when you last saw me. I'm surprised you knew who I was.”

Moira felt Sarah's reticence and realized she'd made a mistake in being so familiar. She shifted the flowers she was carrying to the crook of her arm and pulled the hood of her coat up over her hair.

“Nasty day, isn't it?” When Sarah didn't respond, she added, “Marmet is a small place, dear, and you're the only new face in town. Besides, I asked Sheriff Gallagher. He told me you were staying with Tony. When I saw him, I deduced who you might be. Makes me a good detective, right?”

Sarah looked from Tony to Moira. “You two seem to be on pretty good terms.”

Tony shrugged. “I used to mow her yard, too,” he said. “Besides, our homes are only a couple of miles apart.”

“I'm very sorry about your father,” Moira said.

Sarah gauged Moira's sincerity by the straightforward look in her eyes and decided she was telling the truth.

“Yes, well…thank you,” Sarah said. “We're looking for my mother's grave.”

“I was just on my way there. Follow me. I'll show you where it is.”

“You go to my mother's grave?”

Moira shrugged. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I liked her.”

Again Sarah caught herself judging Moira Blake's sincerity, but Moira's gaze never wavered. Finally she nodded.

“Thank you. I'd appreciate it.”

Within minutes, Sarah found herself standing at the head of her mother's grave.

Anna Catherine Whitman. Born October 28, 1944. Died September 3, 1979.

Sarah stared at the words, waiting for a flood of emotion that never came.

“She was only thirty-four when she died. I don't think I remembered that,” Sarah muttered, more to herself than to the others.

Tony leaned down. “I'll wait for you at the car,” he said, and walked away.

Moira Blake stared at the expression on Sarah's face and followed Tony, pausing briefly to replace the clump of dead flowers on the single grave with the ones she'd been carrying.

Sarah stared at the bright red poinsettias against the brown earth, lifted her face to the sky and closed her eyes, feeling the drizzle fall soft against her skin. At that moment, she realized it had been raining the day of her mother's funeral, as well. She shuddered and looked down. Moisture was collecting rapidly on the petals of the flowers in her hands. She laid them down beside the poinsettias, then stepped back.