Eight Classic Nora Roberts Romantic Suspense Novels

by Nora Roberts

  “Miss Della?” Winnie sprinkled herbs into a pot on the stove. Her hands were small and dainty. She was a quiet women, given more to doing than to talking. But when she spoke, her voice was cool and smooth, like cream. “I’m going to brew this up like a tea. I ain’t making it strong, just enough to ease.”

  “Let’s have a look.” Della joined her at the stove, where they muttered and sniffed. Birdie ignored their conversation. As a doctor’s wife, she didn’t think it quite proper for her to approve of folk medicines.

  “There’s nothing more I can do here.” Josie wiped her hands dry on a tea towel. “I’m going out to hunt around some myself.”

  “There’s more than a dozen men taking care of that,” Birdie said. Her tone was sharp enough to have Josie lift a brow, but Birdie had to put her frustration somewhere.

  “Men don’t always know best where to look for a woman.” Josie picked up her purse. “I’m going to check on Cousin Lulu first, Della, then I’m going to ride over to see Billy T. If he knows anything, he’d be more likely to tell me than he would a man.”

  “Don’t see as that’s anything to brag on,” Della muttered.

  Josie shrugged. “Fact’s a fact. Besides, Happy’s better off knowing whatever there is to know sooner rather than later. She’ll make herself sick if this goes on too long.”

  No one could think of an argument to that. She left by the back door. Moments later they heard the roar of her car engine springing to life.

  “If that Billy T. knows where Darleen took off to—” Birdie began.

  “If he does, Josie’ll find out sure as God made little green apples.” Della handed Winnie a cup for the sedative she’d brewed.

  “He went off to sleep just like an angel,” Happy said as she walked back into the room. Her famous smile was ragged at the edges. “Not a thing like his mama. Why, she used to fight sleep like it was Satan come to steal her soul. I must’ve walked a million miles of floor with …” Rubbing at her eyes, she trailed off.

  “You sit on down here, Priscilla,” Della ordered, using Happy’s given name to get her moving. “This is just making you sick, is all.” Using her big, broad hands, she pushed Happy into a chair. “You let us do the worrying awhile. Nobody better at it than a room full of women. Winnie, bring me that cup.”

  “It’s a might hot, Miz Fuller. You gotta blow on it first.” Winnie set the cup in front of her, then stayed, resting a hand on the back of the chair. Winnie had gone to school with Happy’s eldest daughter, and Belle Fuller had been the first white girl ever to invite Winnie into her home to play with dolls.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s what’s good for you,” Della said, and waved Winnie aside.

  “I don’t want one of Winnie’s magic potions,” she said petulantly. “I’m not sick, I’m just—”

  “Scared and miserable,” Della finished. “By the look of you, you didn’t get a wink of sleep last night. You know Winnie wouldn’t give you anything wasn’t helpful. You drink up now and get some rest.”

  “What I need is coffee.” When Happy started to rise, Della shoved her back.

  “Now you listen to me. Being stubborn’s not gonna change a thing. God willing, your Darleen’ll be back here preening herself over the ruckus she caused. But right now you’ve got a child upstairs sleeping who’s going to need you one way or the other. What good can you do him if you’re worn out.”

  “I just want her back.” When the tears started, she laid her head against Della’s cushioning breast. “I just want my girl back. I was so hard on her, Della.”

  “You never gave her nothing she didn’t need.”

  “She was always so fretful. Even as a baby, the minute she got one thing she wanted something else. I wanted what was best for her, but I never could seem to find it.”

  Needing to help, Caroline stepped forward. “Here, Happy.” She lifted the cup. “Drink a little.”

  Happy took a swallow, then two, before grabbing Caroline’s hand. “She doesn’t think I love her, but I do. Somehow you always love in a special way the one who gives you the most grief. All I can think is that when she was here yesterday, wanting me to side with her about what happened with Junior and that Bonny boy, I couldn’t do it. She was wrong. Darleen never could figure out what was right and what was wrong, but she came here wanting her mother to stick up for her. And I didn’t. We just ended up fighting like always, with her stomping off. I didn’t even watch her drive away.”

  She began to sob then, and Della rocked her and stroked her hair. Susie had come back in to put her arm around Marvella.

  “Those other girls.” Happy’s fingers convulsed on Caroline’s. “Oh, sweet Jesus, I keep thinking about those other girls.”

  “Hush now.” Della lifted the cup to Happy’s lips. “Aren’t they saying that was Austin, and he’s dead as a doornail. Why, Caroline here shot him in the head, and every woman in Innocence is grateful to her. Except maybe Mavis Hatinger, and she would be if she had a lick of sense. Now, you come on with me, darling. I’m going to take you up for a nice lie-down.”

  “Just for a little while.” With Winnie’s brew making her eyelids heavy, Happy let Della lead her out of the kitchen.

  “Oh, Mama.” Marvella turned into Susie’s shoulder to weep.

  “Shush now, don’t you start.” But Susie patted her back. “We don’t know that any thing’s happened.”

  “We have to have faith,” Winnie added. “And while we’re having it, I’m going to fix some food in case others come by. I’ll fry up some chicken.”

  “Good.” Susie gave Marvella a last pat. “Honey, you peel some potatoes and put them on to boil for potato salad. No use anybody going hungry. No telling how long we’ll have to wait.”

  Tucker stood on the banks of Gooseneck Creek and wiped his damp face with a bandanna. The temperature had soared to a hundred and two with the air so thick it felt as if you could grab a fistful and wring it out. The sky was a pale blue, bleached by the merciless white sun.

  He imagined himself taking a quick, relieving dunk in the water. The picture helped a little, but he settled for soaking his bandanna in the creek and cooling his face and neck.

  He remembered that Arnette had been found here—by Darleen’s brother. While he was hunkered down, Tucker took time to say a prayer.

  Please God, don’t let me find her.

  Someone would, he was sure. He’d discounted the hopeful theory that she’d taken off with someone. It didn’t make sense. She hadn’t had time to hook up with anyone but Billy T., and he, along with all of her women friends, insisted he hadn’t heard from her.

  Tucker believed him. Male pride was at stake. Billy T. wasn’t likely to take up with a woman whose husband had bested him with a frying pan. Darleen hadn’t been of particular importance to Billy T. One woman was the same as another to him.

  The inevitable comparison with himself left Tucker with a bad taste in his mouth.

  Darleen hadn’t left her car on the side of the road during a thunderstorm to hop into another with some new lover or new friend. Not when Junior claimed none of her clothes were missing, and that the housekeeping money was still tucked away in the coffee can, where she’d kept it.

  Someone would find her, Tucker thought again. And again he prayed it would be someone else.

  He rose to move among the reeds. His part of the search party was ranged along the banks, slopping through the weeds and mud, hoping, Tucker was sure, that they found nothing but some old beer bottles and maybe a used condom.

  They were all armed, which made him a little edgy. Junior had already blasted away a water moccasin. Since it had seemed to make him feel better, no one had commented.

  The fact was, there was very little conversation. The men worked silently, like soldiers setting up an ambush. Or walking into one. One of the helicopters called up from County swept by now and again, chopping at the hot air, and the two-way radios each group leader carried on their belts would squawk and b
uzz with talk or static. The FBI was holding back from taking over. But then, they didn’t know Innocence or its people. Burns was convinced Darleen was just another dissatisfied wife who’d taken off for greener pastures.

  Tucker figured he wasn’t ready to admit another murder had taken place while he was in charge.

  He swiped at mosquitoes, finding himself testy enough to want to shoot at the whining bloodsuckers instead of slapping at them. When he heard the long, echoing whistle of the train, he wished he were on it. Going anywhere.

  When he’d finished his assigned area, he walked back to join Burke, Junior, Toby and the others who’d taken this side of the creek.

  “They’re nearly done on the other bank,” Burke said. He was keeping a wary eye on Junior, ready to move in if Darleen’s husband started to relieve his anxiety by shooting at something more than a snake. “Singleton and Carl called in from McNair swamp. It’s all clear so far.”

  Toby March laid his rifle in the bed of the pick-up. He thought of his own wife, his own daughter, and though it shamed him, in his heart he was grateful whoever was killing was choosing white skin.

  “We still got about six hours of good daylight left,” he said to no one in particular. “I was thinking maybe some of us could ride down to Rosedale and Greenville and such. Ask around.”

  “I’ve got Barb Hopkins calling all the motels, hospitals, the local police.” Burke took Junior’s gun and laid it with his own in the truck. “County’s sending her picture out.”

  “There you go.” Will Shiver gave Junior a hearty slap on the back. “They’ll find her holed up in some motel, sitting on the bed, painting her toenails and watching TV.”

  Saying nothing, Junior shrugged off the hand and walked away.

  “Give him a minute,” Burke murmured.

  The men shifted their gazes politely away. Toby squinted, adjusting the brim of his hat to cut the glare of the sun. “Somebody’s coming.”

  It took several seconds before anyone else could make out the plume of gravel dust or the faint glint of metal through the waves of heat rising from the road.

  “You black boys got eyes like hawks,” Will Shiver said good-naturedly. “That car must be two miles away yet.”

  “The eyes’re organs,” Toby returned with a sarcasm so subtle and smooth that Tucker had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. “You know what they say about our organs.”

  Interested, Will cocked his head. “I heard tell that was a wives’ tale.”

  “Yes, sir,” Toby said blandly. “There’s plenty of wives who’ll attest to it.”

  Tucker coughed and turned away to light a cigarette. It didn’t seem quite right to laugh out loud with Junior suffering so close by. But my, it was good to smile for a minute.

  He recognized the car a moment later, by the color and the speed with which it was traveling.

  “It’s Josie.” He shot a glance at Burke. “Looks like she’s earning herself another speeding ticket.”

  She skidded to a halt, spitting gravel and waving a hand out of the window. “Barb told us we’d find Y’all here. Earleen and I brought you boys some supper.”

  She slid out of the car, looking cool and fresh in shorts and a halter that left her midriff bare. Her hair was tied back with a chiffon scarf, reminding Tucker of their mother.

  “That’s real obliging of you ladies.” Will slanted Josie a smile that would have earned him a sharp slap from his fiancée.

  “We like to take care of our men, don’t we, Earleen?” After answering Will’s smile, Josie turned to Burke. “Honey, you look worn out. You come on and have a glass of this iced tea. We brought two jugs.”

  “Got a pile of ham sandwiches, too.” Earleen hefted a hamper out of the backseat. She set it on the shoulder and threw back the lid. “Y’all have to keep up your strength in this heat.”

  “Yes, sir, meals on wheels.” Josie kept up a bright chatter as she dug into the hamper. “Earleen and I got this together so fast, we’re thinking we might go into the catering business. Junior, you come on and get one of these now, or you’ll hurt my feelings.”

  When he didn’t even turn around, she gestured to her brother. “Tucker, pour me a cup of that tea.” While she waited, Josie unwrapped a sandwich and laid it on a paper napkin. “Earleen, you see that these boys leave enough for our next stop, you hear?” She rose, took the cup Tucker held out, then skirted around the truck.

  Junior continued to stare down the road. Josie could see a muscle in his cheek twitch. She set the sandwich on the hood of the truck, then pressed the cup of tea into his hands.

  “Now, you drink that, Junior. This heat steals all your fluids. A man could drink a gallon and not piss an ounce. Come on.” Gently, she rubbed a hand up and down his back. “Getting heat stroke’s not going to help.”

  “We didn’t find her.”

  “I know, honey. Take a drink.” She nudged the cup closer to his lips. “I was down at your mother-in-law’s before. When I left, you little boy was sleeping like an angel. He’s got a sweet disposition, that boy, and I do believe he has your eyes.”

  She paused when Junior took two big gulps of tea. She took the cup from him and passed him the sandwich. He ate mechanically, his eyes glazed with fatigue and worry. Josie slipped an arm around him, knowing there were few things more comforting than human contact.

  “It’s going to be all right, Junior. I promise. Everything’s going to be just fine. You wait and see.”

  His eyes filled, spilled over, running rivulets through the sweat and grime on his face. But he kept eating. “I thought I fell out of love with her when I walked into the kitchen and found her with Billy T. Seemed like my heart just closed off toward her. It don’t feel like that now.”

  Moved by his grief, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “It’ll work out, honey. You trust Josie.”

  He struggled to compose himself. “I don’t want my son to grow up without a mother.”

  “He won’t have to.” Josie’s eyes darkened as she wiped Junior’s tears with the paper napkin. “You believe that, Junior, and it’ll all be fine.”

  They searched until it was too dark for the ’copters to fly or the men to see. When Tucker arrived home, he was greeted by a weary Buster, who had tried, and failed, to avoid the puppy throughout the day.

  “I’ll take him off your hands.” Tucker gave Buster an absent pat before scooping up Useless. The pup wiggled and licked and barked as Tucker carried him into the house. “If you’ve been like this all day, I’m surprised you didn’t give my old hound a stroke.”

  He headed for the kitchen, dreaming of a beer, a cold shower, and Caroline. He found Della slicing roast beef and Cousin Lulu playing solitaire.

  “What do you think you’re doing, bringing that dog into my kitchen?”

  “Giving Buster a break.” Tucker set the dog down and he immediately scooted under Lulu’s chair. “Have you heard from Caroline?”

  “She called not ten minutes ago. She was going to stay with Happy until Singleton or Bobby Lee got home.” Della arranged another slice of roast beef on the platter. Because she could see how tired Tucker was, she didn’t slap at his hand when he stole it. “She’s coming by here to pick up this fleabag.”

  Tucker grunted over a mouthful of beef, and pulled a beer out of the fridge.

  “I’ll have one of those,” Lulu said without looking up. “Cards’re thirsty work.”

  Tucker popped the lid on a second bottle, then scanned the hand she’d dealt. “You can’t put a black three on a black five. You need a red four between.”

  “I’ll put it there when I get one.” Lulu tipped back the beer, studying him over it. “You look like something that’s been dragged through the swamp.”

  “I guess I have been.”

  “That youngest Fuller girl still missing?” Lulu cheated a red ten out of her pile and played it. “Della’s been half the day over at Happy’s. I’m reduced to solitaire.”

  “I got a
duty—” Della began, but Lulu waved her off.

  “Nobody’s criticizing. I’d’ve gone myself, but nobody thought to ask me.”

  “I told you I was going.” Della thwacked the knife down on the cutting board.

  “Not the same as being asked.” Lulu did some more creative cheating. “People come and go so much around here, it makes my blood tired. Josie in and out all hours of the day and night. Tucker here gone for a day at a stretch. Dwayne wasn’t back five minutes before he takes a bottle of Wild Turkey and goes out again.”

  Della started to defend her brood, then frowned. “When did Dwayne get back?”

  “Half hour ago. Looked as muddy and worn-out as Tucker. Went out the same way.”

  “He take his car?”

  “Don’t see how he could.” Lulu reached in her pocket and drew out a set of keys. “He took the bottle, so I took these.”

  Della nodded in approval. “Where do you think you’re going?” she asked Tucker as he tried to edge out of the room.

  “I need a shower.”

  “You’ve lived with that sweat all day, you can live with it awhile longer. Go on down and see if Dwayne’s at the pond.”

  “Shit, Della, I’ve already walked a hundred miles today.”

  “Then you can walk one more. I’m not having him fall in and drown. You bring him up here, where he can get cleaned up and eat. They’ll want him out there tomorrow just like they’ll want you.”

  Grumbling, Tucker sat down his half-finished beer and started out the back door. “I hope to Christ he hasn’t had time to get drunk yet.”

  He was only half drunk, which was exactly the way Dwayne liked it best. The fatigue of the day had faded into a nice, friendly buzz. Slogging through McNair swamp with Bobby Lee and Carl and the others had been a miserable way to spend a day.

  He’d gone willingly enough, and would go again in the morning. He didn’t begrudge the time or the effort, and didn’t see that anyone would begrudge him a little time with the bottle to wash the day away.