Fairest (13 page)

“I'm your friend,” Linc reminded me and opened his arms for me. I leaned over and accepted the hug he offered.

“I don't feel safe, anymore.”

“Not even with me?” he asked, worry marking his features.

I rubbed my thumb over the crease between his brows. “You are the exception.”

“My mother likes you very much, and I think my father is coming around.”

“Linc.” I traced my finger over a large black dot on the comforter. “They are going to arrest my stepmother, tomorrow.” My lip quivered. “It wasn't like we ever fought or anything. I just…I trusted her. I don't understand.”

“I know. Father will figure it out.”

This time, when he lay down and opened his arms, I turned my back to him and let him snuggle against me. He was warm and caring—altogether unexpected.

I thought about the interactions between the two of us over the past two years. Linc and I met my freshman year. One of the boys on the soccer team pointed me out, and shortly after that, the mooing, clucking, and placing of orders started. It wasn't so bad until I started tutoring Whit, and it reached its worst when Whit showed interest in me outside the library. Still, I could see how all the heckling and name-calling were childish ways of showing romantic interest, especially when that person didn't want everyone else to know he was romantically interested.

I thought back over the party, too. After Whit left me to speak with his parents, Linc was very nice to me, even going as far as to defend me in front of the girls hating on me. He was almost a gentleman to me.

Now that we weren't around his friends, he was sweet. He was kind, considerate, and sensitive. I sighed deeply.

“Tell me what's got you worried,” he said, nuzzling his nose into the back of my hair.

“I'm worried that when we get around your friends, you're going to revert to being a jerk.”

“Not going to happen,” he said. “Your hair is so soft.”

“That's because I don't fuss with it like all those other girls do. Linc?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you a virgin?”

“No. I've done it twice. Once with each of the girls who met my parents.”

“Did you tell them that you loved them, too?”

“No,” he said. “I didn't. They knew I didn't.”

“Then, why?”

“Because we wanted to. Look, Skye. You don't have to worry about that right now. I'm not going to pressure you.”

“I'm not worried about that. I just…I'm just trying to understand.”

“Well, it was about exploring, trying something new, and satisfying some urges—you know, that kind of thing. Although, I did trust both of them, and they trusted me. When it didn't work out, there were no hard feelings. Mary Beth was my first.”

I shifted away so I could roll over and look at him. “I thought she dated Whit.”

“She broke up with me when he asked her out.” When my jaw dropped, he shrugged one shoulder. “Seemed like my dating scene was on repeat until you came along.”

“Yeah, I'm just afraid you're going to realize that the feelings you have for me are because you've finally bested him,” I admitted.

“He told you that I liked you long before he even met you,” Linc reminded me. “I beat him at soccer and just about everything else.”

My brows drew up in question. “So, add girls to the list, too?”

“Insecurity is really unattractive, Skye. When are you going to get it through your thick skull? I'm crazy about you. I have been ever since I first saw you walk out of Woodmark dorm in your knee-length skirt and a white blouse that just showed your bra. You stepped out from under the front awning, and the sun lit up your hair. You looked like a princess.”

“You noticed what I was wearing?” He nodded, and I smiled. “I think you're cute, too.”

“I'm sorry I hurt your feelings so many times, and I'm so glad you can forgive me for it.”

“Yeah, well. I'm sorry I thought you were a soulless, insensitive idiot.”

He laughed, wrapped his arm around my waist, and pulled me against him. When we kissed, I lazily ran my fingers through his hair and twirled it around my finger. For another while, I was able to lose myself in kissing a boy I found cute and that, maybe, I loved…just a little.

I wasn't expecting cops at my door at nine in the morning, but that's what I got on Thursday. They wanted to look around the house, saying they had a search warrant and everything. I was betting that if they got a search warrant for the house, it meant they had no other leads on Skye.

When I asked the nature of the search, head detective Gimble said they thought Winston was involved in some nasty business. He looked sincere, and I decided that for some reason, they must think Winston had something to do with Skye, although no one had mentioned her. When I asked after her, Gimble said her whereabouts were unknown.

I acted appropriately concerned and said, “She's supposed to be in Savannah, already. You need to find my stepdaughter instead of rummaging around my house for Winston's papers or whatever.”

Then, I started crying and went to sit in the parlor. Gimble sat beside me, brought me a tissue, and attempted to console me while the other cops milled about my house.

Not long before the search moved upstairs, Colby arrived. I introduced him to Detective Gimble, and after fixing me a drink, Colby led him into the kitchen to talk about the matter at hand. It was a nice touch that Colby claimed he wanted to move the conversation away from me in order to spare me any nasty details.

I sat back and enjoyed my brandy. I admired the painting over the fireplace. It was one of the few that was a very good
—
so good you couldn't tell otherwise
—
reproduction of an original work. This one, I commissioned of a local artist to paint Skye when she was thirteen. It was a present from me to Winston. She wore a dark blue cotillion dress. I had to admit
—
the girl was quite pretty. Her fair skin, bright reddish-light brown hair, and light eyes were a pleasing combination. If she wasn't such an anti-social thing, I imagined the boys would be falling all over her…well, if she were alive.

I was smiling into my brandy when I remembered the pendant. I nearly spilled all over myself when I choked. As calmly as I could, I set my glass down on the coaster on the end table. As I was not yet dressed for the day, I decided to use that as an excuse for going to my bedroom. Then, I could find wherever I'd thrown the stupid thing and hide it better. I'd swallow it if it came down to it.

I couldn't hear Colby and Detective Gimble from my position, but I thought they were still in the kitchen. I slipped out of the parlor and went up the stairs to the second floor. A few of the cops nodded to me and went on about their search of Winston's library and his “man room”. It was the one room in the house I let him decorate and keep how he liked it. I never went in there and was so proud of myself for not getting my fingerprints on anything that might incriminate him.

I said something to the effect of putting on something more suitable for company and closed the bedroom door. Putting my back to the door, I scanned the room. It looked untouched, and I smiled to myself as I drummed my fingertips against each other. Where, oh where had I thrown that damned pendant?

I walked over to my vanity and took a seat. Had I been sitting? I knew I was angry. Perhaps, I was standing. Or, maybe, I was lounging on the bed. I couldn't be sure, but I thought I remembered standing near the bed when I threw the pendant.

If so, that meant the pendant landed near the door and possibly under the small chair and ottoman there. Best case, it bounced under the armoire. It would be nigh impossible to get it out, but I would find a way.

From my bedside table, I took out my emergency power failure flashlight. I crept over to the chair and ottoman, and I flipped up their skirts. Nothing shiny reflected when I swept the flashlight around under them. The bottom of the armoire was scalloped. It wouldn't be easy to see under it, and there was no way to know whether or not the pendant was there if it had gone into one of the corners. I had to lay down on the floor to look under it, and I couldn't see anything metal.

“It's just near the front, then,” I whispered to myself. “You can have Colby move the armoire and dig it out once the cops leave.”

I sat back on my knees and turned off the flashlight. A knock came at the door, and I shoved the flashlight under the ottoman. Quickly, I seated myself and tried to look pensive or bored.

“Oh, um…yes?” I asked as if dazed.

“Mrs. Daniels…” Detective Gimble began.

“Are you decent, ma'am?”

“I'm sorry. I got a bit distracted. Let me finish changing, um-kay?” I asked as sweetly as I could.

“Yes, ma'am, but please don't take long,” he said genially.

I snarled at the door and stood. In far less time than usual, I dressed in a casual pantsuit befitting a woman five years older than me. I brushed my hair into a low tail and swirled it into a bun. Anything that made me look more matronly had to work in my favor. I dabbed on a bit of makeup and slipped into my flats. After putting on my newest diamonds, I clipped an old cameo brooch to my lapel
—
ah, Chanel and cameos. Two classics and so lovely together.

When I opened the door, Colby was out in the hall with Detective Gimble. The detective smiled, but Colby didn't. My brow furrowed a bit in question, but he wouldn't meet my eyes.

“I feel much better, now,” I assured them. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Gimble said. He held up a clear, plastic bag with an evidence sticker on it. “You want to tell me how you came to have in your possession the heart-shaped pendant that belongs to your stepdaughter, Skye?”

Friday heralded a cold snap and a mixed bag of emotions. Mister Moore told me that he had set everything in place. My trust money purchased a large bed and breakfast in the French Quarter. Remodeling it for a home would begin in the next few weeks, and the contractors projected that it would be ready by August.

Since Mrs. Moore and some of her friends were looking for a new charity, my home for orphaned children was right up their alley. She had all sorts of contacts for workers and volunteers, and she was over the moon to help me.

Linc looked stunned. After she'd gone off to make phone calls, he told me he hadn't seen her so enthusiastic or sober in longer than he could remember. It was exciting and a little scary, but I felt good about it.

I called Terrell, next. Detective Gimble had found him, Nate, and Carly real jobs, and they were all going to night school to get their GEDs. The younger kids were back in school, and one-by-one, they all got on the phone to thank me for giving them somewhere to live, so they could feel safe and get their lives back. I cried, and Nate told me to shut off the waterworks. I told him to shut up, and we laughed for a while.

“That's how I know you're one of us for real,” he said. “Sorry I gave you such a hard time, Skye. I'm sorry if I called you a rich, pampered baby.”

“I don't think you ever said it out loud,” I said as I wiped my eyes.

“I thought it,” he admitted. “I take it back. Anybody willing to take a manslaughter rap for someone she barely knows is something. Come see us, yo.”

“I will as soon as school gets out. I promise.”

After I hung up with Nate, Mister Moore sat me down and let me know the police found my pendant in Lizette's room in the house in Savannah. They took her into custody, and while they held her, they confirmed that partial prints on it matched hers and those of the guy who tried to shoot everybody.

I began to shake. “So, it was the same guy?” Linc, who was sitting beside me, put him arm around my waist and held me close to his side.

“Yes,” Mister Moore said. “The man who pulled off your necklace was the same man who tried to shoot you.”

Next to me, Linc inhaled sharply and cleared his throat. When I looked up at him, his eyes looked wet and red.

“I'm okay,” I said quietly.

“I know.” He cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “So, Father. What will they do?”

“The lawyer—”

“Colby?” I blurted and leaned toward Mister Moore.

“Yes, your stepmother's lawyer. He rolled.” I must have looked blank for Mister Moore said, “He confessed to helping your stepmother arrange for you to be murdered while you were in New Orleans. He hired the assassin with her money.”

I put my hand over my mouth, and my eyes welled. “Why?” I whispered.

“Detective Gimble thinks her motive was the money. Colby says your father's wealth is willed almost exclusively to you. In the event of yours and your father's deaths, his money would go to her.”

I clenched my teeth. My fists balled until my nails dug into my palms. I was so angry, I could've screamed. “He loves her,” I said in a volume just below a shout. “How could she do that to him? How? He loves her. He would try to give her the sun and moon if she wanted them. Forget how she feels about me.” I waved my hand through the air. “She knows how much he loves us both. She knows that neither of us cares about money.” I put my face in my hands but willed myself not to cry. “What a bitch.”

“Indeed,” Mister Moore said.

“Is she going to jail?” I asked through my hands.

“She'll serve some time, unless she gets a really good lawyer, which isn't likely.”

“Colby?”

“He'll do some, too.”

I lifted my head and looked at him. “May I call my father?”

“Yes, you may,” he said, giving me a small smile.

Mister Moore lifted the receiver and dialed several numbers. Once it was ringing, he gave me the phone. When I heard my daddy's voice, I almost started crying, again. The police had already informed him about Lizette, and Daddy sent Hank, one of his best buddies and his lawyer, over to New Orleans to acquire Lizette's signature for a few more documents in regards to his ending marriage, will, and estate. Hank also worked with Mister Moore to get my project in New Orleans up and running. He planned to leave his younger partner in town to keep an eye on things until my daddy could go for a visit and until I got out of school.

That brought up another point. The doctors cleared Daddy to fly home, so he would be arriving in New York on Sunday afternoon. He would get home just in time for me to leave to go back to Irstwitch. I didn't want to go. I didn't want to leave him with some nurse to take care of him. After much arguing and bickering, Mister Moore intervened and said he thought the school would be willing to work with us in our unique situation.

“It is my understanding that Skye is at the top of her class. I can speak with them in your absence, but I am certain her teachers would be more than willing to send her assignments via e-mail,” Mister Moore assured my daddy. “Oh, and we've gotten her a new laptop.”

“Father,” Linc complained, but Mister Moore held a hand out to him.

Mister Moore gave the phone back to me, and with a bit more gibbering, my father and I finally said our goodbyes. “You don't have to get me a laptop,” I said. “I have a credit card. I could've gotten one when we were out getting me a new phone, yesterday. There's a desktop at my daddy's.”

“Yeah, well.” Linc looked down at his knees before looking sideways at me. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

His phone rang, and after Mister Moore excused him. Linc left the room to answer it. “I'm going to give him permission,” Mister Moore said to me.

I looked at him quickly. “To what?”

“To date you.” Mister Moore stared at me with eyes a few shades darker and much keener than his son's. They lacked the coolness I'd previously found in them. “I think you are an extraordinary girl with a good heart.” He looked over to where Linc paced in the hallway as he talked on the phone. “You've the ability to bring out the best in him, and Genevieve adores you.”

“I'm just a regular old swamp rat from Savannah whose stepmother dresses her in expensive clothes. Nothing extraordinary.”

“Don't undersell yourself,” he said.

After giving me a pat on the knee, he got up from the sofa and went into the suite he shared with his wife. Linc, noticing his father was gone, wandered back into the living room. With his eyes locked on mine, he came toward me.

“I told you she's fine,” he insisted but then handed me the phone. “Whit.”

I took the phone from Linc and spent the next few minutes filling Whit in on what happened to me in New Orleans and what happened to my father in Japan. For the life of me, I couldn't understand why he cared. Linc had told him that the two of us were sort of dating.

“So, Linc's father is going to get it set up so you can stay an extra week in New York,” Whit said. “That will be good for you and your dad.”

“Yeah,” I smiled. “It'll be good to see him, even if the circumstances aren't so great.”

“Skye…would you consider giving me a second chance?”

“I don't know, Whit,” I said.

Linc's eyes narrowed, and I shook my head at him. He pursed his lips and then took my hand. When he pulled me to standing, I went with him down the hall and into his bedroom.

“Linc says that the two of you are dating, but you haven't been out on an official date, yet.”

“That's right.”

Linc closed his door and stood behind me. I felt him move my hair out of the way, so he could kiss the back of my neck.

“Let me take you out, again,” Whit said. “I'll prove to you that I can be with you and only you. You know we get along better than you and Linc do, and
I'm
a better kisser.”

“I don't know about that.”

Linc's hands slid around me and under my T-shirt.

“Skye, he hit you in the head with a hacky sack,” Whit reminded me.

Silky and soft, Linc's hands drifted over my stomach and ribs, then under the wire of my bra. With a gentle squeeze and a light pinch, Linc had my heart racing. He pulled me back against his chest and kissed up my neck. When his lips reached my ear, he whispered my name and sucked on my earlobe. My eyes rolled closed as I broke out in chill bumps.

“He did.” I cleared my throat. “He apologized.” It was becoming increasingly difficult to continue the conversation, what with Linc now nuzzling my ear with his nose and teasing my left nipple with his index finger. “Look, Whit. I need to go.”

“Are you okay? You sound funny.”

“I think I've got a fuzz or something in my throat,” I said as Linc flicked his tongue inside my ear. I coughed, and not for effect. “Yeah, I think I need some water.”

“I'll let you go. Just promise me you're coming to the party, tonight,” he said.

“She'll come,” Linc said loud enough for Whit to hear. He kissed along my jaw. “I'll make sure of it.”

“Bye, Whit.”

I dropped the phone on the bed, so I could turn and run my fingers into Linc's hair. My movement pulled his hands out of my bra, so he shifted them between my jeans and panties and gripped my butt. Our mouths met and locked.

“I'll never get enough of this.”

We just kept kissing and kissing. Our bodies plastered together, and I ground my hips against Linc. He groaned and rubbed against me. I heard our zippers grind, together. My body wanted things from him that my mind wasn't ready for, and because of that, I ended the kiss and broke the embrace by stepping back from him.

“Wow,” I touched my swollen lips. “That was intense.”

Linc was breathing hard and trying to calm himself. When he had more control, he smiled. “Yeah. I don't suppose you'd sit on my face, now?” I snorted out a laugh and shook my head. “Well, just so you know, I meant what I said to Whit. You're gonna come, and I'm gonna be the one who takes you there. Know what I'm saying?”

I bit my lower lip. “The innuendo isn't lost on me.”

He ran his hands down his face and blew out a puff of air. “You have no idea how much it excites me to hear and feel you get all worked up.”

“Yes, I do.” I grinned and directed my eyes at his crotch. “I think I might be ready to touch it, now.”