Shadows At Sunset - Anne Stuart [101]
He was no longer amused. “Poor angel,” he murmured. “How awful for you.”
“How awful for you! You were dead. I ran the rest of the way, and found you lying in bed. The back of your head…” Her voice broke at the memory.
“The back of my head is very nice right now, sweetheart. Don’t distress yourself. What happened then?”
“I ran to the window. We’d given the servants the night off, and no one was there. I looked out and I saw her, covered in blood as she ran for the car.”
“I can guess,” he said. “Adele. My ex-wife.”
“She didn’t consider herself ex.”
“She never would. And no one ever suspected her. They thought you did it? What happened, love? Did she see you and come back?”
“No. She drove away. She’d left the gun on the bed. I think she probably knew me better than I knew myself. I took the gun, crawled into the bed, and—”
“Oh, love!” he said tenderly.
“So, you see, you can go. You didn’t do anything. But I did. I’ve had fifty years with you, love, and it’s more than I deserve. You need a chance—”
“I don’t need anything but you,” he said calmly. “But what makes you think we can’t go together?”
“Because I killed myself.”
“Your God is a lot more unforgiving than mine,” he said gently. “Are you ready to leave this place?”
She stared up at him in disbelief. “I can’t.”
“You can. Give me your hand, honeybunch.”
He held his out, and without thinking she placed her small, perfectly manicured hand in his big, strong one. His fingers closed around hers, and a moment later they were enveloped in a blinding white light.
“Ted,” she whispered, afraid.
He pulled her into his arms, and the light filled them, buoying them up. “Eternity, honeybunch,” he whispered. “It will be fine.”
And it was.
Rachel-Ann drove blindly through the busy streets. They’d tried to stop her, make her stay, but she pulled away, eerily calm, and in the end they’d let her go before the police got there to fish out the body.
She had no idea where she was going until she ended up there. The Unitarian church was brightly lit, and several smokers congregated on the sidewalk outside the entrance. People she recognized.
She gave them a tentative smile as she walked past them, into the meeting room. It was crowded, and instead of taking her usual seat in a far corner, away from prying eyes, she sat in the front, still, silent, waiting as the seats filled up behind and around her.
“Does anyone here have something they need to talk about tonight?” the leader asked after the opening rituals had been conducted.
It was Rachel-Ann’s cue to avert her gaze, to pull inside herself so that she almost disappeared. But not tonight. She raised her hand, and the leader nodded.
“Hi,” she said. “My name is Rachel-Ann, and I’m—” Her voice cracked, and the room was silent. “And I’m an alcoholic,” she finished in a raw voice.
“Hi, Rachel-Ann,” the voices came back at her, welcoming.
“Hi, Rachel-Ann,” came Rico’s soft voice, directly behind her. She reached out, blindly, and he caught her hand, holding it tightly.
“My father died tonight….” she began.
“Where’s Coltrane?” Dean asked. Jilly was sitting at the table in the kitchen, staring silently into a cup of cold coffee. It was after midnight, the police had left, along with the coroner and the ambulance, and they were alone in the house.
She roused herself to look at her brother. “He’s gone,” she said simply. “I don’t think he wanted to answer questions for the police.”
“No, I imagine not. Our friend Coltrane had a lot of secrets.”
“Don’t most people?” she asked wearily.
“I think he had more than his share. You didn’t make the mistake of falling in love with him, did you?”
She jerked her head up. “You think I’m that stupid?”
“Yes. Or let’s say, I think you’re that vulnerable. You aren’t always the strong one, Jilly.”
“I don’t really have any choice right now, do I?” She stirred the coffee.
“Is he coming back?”
“Coltrane? I doubt it. He got what he wanted. Jackson’s dead.”
“Are you sure that’s all he wanted?”
“Positive,” she said. “What else?”