“Des?” She thought she heard Fitz, his voice husky with morning. She opened one eye, then blinked. It was Fitz, perched on the edge of the bed, his hip against hers, his hair wet, his face still marked with a crease from the sheets.
“Babe, we overslept, and I’ve got to leave now to meet Detective Tucker.” He proffered the crooked grin she’d missed so much, but his eyes were worried.
Tansy. “Oh, no—” She bolted up straight, shoving her fingers through her hair. “What time is it? I’ve got to—”
“Easy.” Fitz chuckled. “Almost ten now. Here—I made coffee.”
“I can’t—” Drink caffeine, she started to say, but he was already rising to his feet. “Thanks.”
He donned his bomber jacket, his eyes somber. “I’d like to come back tonight.” He paused, and she saw real regret. “I wish I could make you understand what that experience taught me, but I also know I pushed you too hard, Des. Nothing means a damn without you. If you don’t want kids—” His cellphone rang, and he cursed ripely. “I’m sorry. I’d better take this, in case it’s about Tansy. Fitzgerald,” he snapped.
He listened for several seconds. “Hold onto it. Don’t let it out of your sight. I’ll be right there.”
“What is it?”
He didn’t respond for a moment, and her heart seized. “Is it Tansy? Has she been found? Oh, God—”
Fitz shook his head, slid his hand over her hair. “No. It’s a package for me, delivered to the paper just moments ago.”
“Who’s it from?”
“Lucas Walker.”
Mona blinked. Then her mind started racing. She jumped from the bed, headed for the shower. “I’m coming with you.”
“You’re supposed to meet Kat in an hour.”
“Fitz, I have to—”
“Des, think about it. The clock is ticking. We don’t have much time to find her. Every second counts.” He raked fingers through his shaggy hair. “It’s not as if we have an excess of help. It’s more effective to split up and hit on two fronts. We need to discover if there are any clues in Tansy’s room, too.” He sighed. “But you can come if you want.”
“No, you’re right. I just—”
“I understand. I promise I’ll call you the second I’ve read it.” He crossed to her, pulled her close. “I love her, too, Des.”
She sank against him. “I know.”
“You’re not alone, honey.”
She turned her head up to his. “Thank you.” She gazed into his eyes, finding the man she’d loved for so long waiting there, and she wished she could share her news now. “Come back soon, Fitz,” she urged. “We need to talk.”
“I will, babe. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Fitz lowered his mouth to hers in a kiss of unbearable sweetness, then he left.
Mona watched the door close and leaned her forehead against it, her hand resting over Fitz’s child.
Chapter Eighteen
When Fitz called later, Mona and Kat had already been through much of Tansy’s room. “Found anything?” he asked.
“Nothing. What about you?”
Kat moved closer, chewing on a fingernail.
“How much background do you have on Sanford, Des?” he asked.
“Not that much, just that Daddy trusts him completely. Why?”
“Walker has assembled some pretty interesting stuff here. I’ll check with other sources, but he’s found a pattern that doesn’t fit too well with Sanford’s reputation as a patron of the arts and doer of good deeds.”
“What does that have to do with Tansy?”
“Walker says he never raped Tansy, that it was Sanford who did it.”
“What? That’s absurd—”
“He says he and Paris were going to a movie that night and Tansy was supposed to be with your dad, but at the last minute plans got changed. He says he had a bad feeling about her being there alone and convinced Paris to go back. Sanford offered them the same drugged wine he’d given Tansy. He and Paris passed out, and the next thing he knows, Tansy’s screaming and Sanford is on top of her.”
“That’s ridiculous. Carlton may be a pompous jerk, but he would never—”
“Why would Walker lie about it now?”
“He was never charged with her rape. Maybe he’s afraid of going to jail for it now.”
“Can’t happen. Statute of limitations has passed.”
“I don’t care. If he’d murder Paris, why should we believe he wouldn’t rape Tansy?”
“He says it was an accident. Paris jumped at Sanford just when Walker fired the gun.”
“Why didn’t he tell anyone if it was true? Why would he plead guilty if it was an accident?”
“I have no idea.” They were both silent for a moment.
“What’s he saying?” Kat was wearing a hole in the rug, pacing.
Mona filled her in. Kat just snorted. “The bastard’s lying.”
Fitz overheard. “What’s the motivation?”
Mona couldn’t answer that. “But why would he let them put him in jail if what he says is true? Wouldn’t they have charged him with less than murder?”
“Yeah, probably. He sure wouldn’t have served so much time.”
“This makes no sense, Fitz. Why would he go to jail for twenty years for something he didn’t do?”
“I can’t tell you. He says in his note that he took Tansy to keep Sanford away from her. Says he’ll bring her home if we convince him that Sanford will never get his hands on her.”
“I just can’t imagine…” But as Mona relayed the rest to Kat, her mind was racing, recollecting how Tansy had never liked being around Carlton. “She always acted afraid of him, but we all assumed that it was because she was afraid to remember that night.”
Kat shook her head violently. “You’re not buying this, Mona, surely.”
“Think about it, Kat. Carlton doesn’t want us to call the police—why?”
“He said—”
“Forget what he said—why, after all these years, did he get so insistent about moving Tansy in with him? It was only recently, when Walker was nearing the end of his sentence, that Carlton started talking to Daddy about it again. What if—”
“It’s ridiculous, Mona. I mean, I can’t stand the guy, but look at who we’re talking about. Mr. Philanthropy.”
Mona punched speaker so Fitz could hear, too. He spoke up. “Which is exactly the reason I need to dig into this. If Walker’s right, Sanford has a whole lot to lose. That ambassadorship would go right down the drain. It’s the word of an ex-con against a pillar of society at the moment, but if Walker can somehow trigger Tansy’s memory of that night, and she agrees with him, Sanford would be ruined.”
“You said there was other information. What kind?”
“Walker’s done a lot of research on Sanford. Some of the companies he owns would be great for laundering money. Anybody ever figure out what Sanford does to get the funds he throws around so freely?”
“Maybe Daddy has. I never paid any attention.”
“There’s something else. Walker included an old copy of a newspaper photo of Sanford and your mother. I’ll check the dates, but I think this was taken before your parents ever met.”
“That could be. He introduced them. Why is that important?”
“The look he’s giving her in this photo isn’t that of a man who’d want to share her with your father.”
“What are you saying, Fitz?” But Mona couldn’t quit thinking about Carlton’s expression when she’d caught him with her mother’s photograph. And he’d said he’d intended to marry her, but—
“I’m not sure what to make of it. The pieces don’t all fit.”
“Why would he send it to you? What’s he after? No ransom note, just clippings?”
“He says he can’t trust your father to guard Tansy, that he didn’t protect her from Sanford before and he won’t now. All he seems to want is to convince us that Sanford isn’t who we think
and that she’s in danger from him. He demands assurance that she’ll be protected from him, permanently.”
“That’s easy enough,” Mona said, consulting her sister, who was listening in and nodded vigorously. “I told Tansy we wouldn’t let Daddy send her away. Why didn’t she believe us?” But in her mind, she kept hearing Tansy say he makes me feel safe. “What if—” She shook her head. “No way.”
“What, Des?”
“If he really did defend her once, maybe that’s why she says she feels safe with him now.”
“But if she recalls that, why doesn’t she remember that he killed Paris?” Kat exploded.
“I can’t begin to guess. We have to talk to Tansy. Fitz, tell him to bring her back.”
“I can’t. I don’t have any means to contact him. He says he’ll call me.”
“When?”
“I have no idea.”
“And meanwhile, Tansy’s his prisoner.”
“Maybe not, Des. Maybe he really is only interested in protecting her.”
“We need to confront Carlton with this.”
“Not a good idea, babe. If any of this is true, Sanford is not someone you should mess with unless you have ammunition. If he’s laundering money, God knows who he’s in bed with. You think he’s going to simply confess?”
“So what do we do?”
“I talk to Detective Tucker, fill him in. And let’s hope to God Walker calls soon. Meanwhile, we figure out how to find him.”
The phone was answered on the second ring. “Fitzgerald.”
For an instant, Lucas froze. This was the whole ballgame, this call and his ability to convince this man.
“Hello? Anyone there?”
“It’s Lucas Walker.”
“Hold on—just a second. Let me—”
“Forget attempting to trace this.” Lucas fought his temper. “Don’t you care that I’m trying to help Tansy?”
“Are you?”
His spirits sank. “You don’t believe what I sent.”
A long sigh. “I don’t have a clue what to believe. It doesn’t make sense—why would you go to jail for twenty years when you didn’t have to? Why didn’t you tell anyone, if that’s what really happened?”
Lucas watched the seconds tick away. “I—it would require too long to explain.” He exhaled in a gust, exhaustion overtaking him. “All I want is for her to be safe.”
“She was safe at Martin’s.”
“Her father left her in Sanford’s hands before. He can’t be trusted.”
“Then bring her to me.”
“I can’t do that, not until I’m sure he’s not a threat. Will you help me put him away?”
“I—it’s complicated, Walker. It’s not up to me.”
Despair weighed him down. “Forget it, then. I was hoping her sisters or you would be concerned enough to listen. I’ve got to figure out something else—”
“Don’t hang up—Walker, we do care—don’t—”
“She’s in danger. I can’t risk it.” Lucas raked his fingers through his hair. “Goddamn it, don’t any of you pay attention to her? She was supposed to get help—the bastard promised. Why didn’t anyone help her? I thought it was over—” He exhaled in a gust. “Goodbye.”
“Walker—wait. Here’s my cellphone number. Call me back—please. I’ll meet you. You name the place. Please…tell Tansy we love her.”
“I love her, too,” Lucas whispered, weary to the bone. “I’ll tell her,” he said louder.
Then he hung up. His head sagged in defeat, coming to rest against the hand still gripping the receiver.
Late that night, Lucas trudged toward the stairs after he’d closed down the kitchen, his steps heavy with the weight of his failure to convince Fitzgerald. The police would be searching for them; he couldn’t imagine why Tansy’s disappearance hadn’t hit the news yet.
No matter; he couldn’t hide her for long. Locked up in the basement, she’d wither and die. Already, he could tell the toll on her. She’d sent a message through Al when Lucas had returned from his call, asking to be left alone. He hadn’t seen her since early afternoon, isolated in that dingy basement room. Surely a creature of air and light such as she would be withering by now, robbed of everything familiar.
But he couldn’t abandon her, didn’t trust taking her back. He could see no solution but to run with her, but would she leave the island? What would it do to her to leave Paris behind? How would she hold up to the pressures of being poor and away from everything familiar?
If only someone would listen. Her father wouldn’t—he’d as soon see Lucas dead. Her sisters were mysteries—he’d only known them briefly before they’d been sent to Texas. Kat had been too young to notice, Mona too prim. He hadn’t been concerned with them back then.
He was now. Extremely. Even if he’d never promised Juliette…he would still feel responsible for Tansy.
Maybe he’d try Fitzgerald one more time…but the most convincing argument was one he would never use.
Just then, the basement came into view and his breath caught. He’d have seen the glow from the top of the stairs if he hadn’t been so distracted.
Lucas stopped on the bottom step. And gazed in wonder. He’d thought she was despondent and needed time alone.
Instead, she’d created magic.
She’d made her hours alone count. On a crude and ugly basement, Tansy had cast a spell. Butcher paper wrapped the walls, covering the bare concrete. On it, she’d painted a mural, a prince rescuing a fair maiden. The maiden resembled her.
The prince looked like him.
Trees and vines and flowers spilled forth in brilliant watercolors. Bees buzzed. Birds flew. Butterflies danced.
Lucas turned in a circle, trying to take it all in, shaking his head and smiling.
Smiling. After a day of abject failure.
“Tansy,” he said, seeking her out. “You’re amazing.”
Her face was the most beautiful of all. “Al got me the paper and paints and candles.” Stuck in everything from cans to buckets, candles cast a golden glow from every corner. “You really like it?” Her expression was shy.
His heart too full to speak, Lucas only nodded. He crossed to where she stood, perhaps lost in mists but still the most powerful force in his lonely world. She’d always been bigger than her size in impact. Always been unlike anyone he’d ever known.
Maybe her mischief had become something more gentle. So she shied from memory and sought oblivion—it didn’t matter. The power that lived within her shone bright.
And with it, she brought beauty into the lives of every soul she met.
“It’s stunning.”
Tansy whirled and clapped, her face alight, then held out her hands. “Dance with me.”
“I don’t—I can’t—” He’d never even attended a school dance. And prisoners didn’t waltz.
“Come on, anyone can do it.” She put his right hand on her hip, clasped the left one in her right. Placing her other arm on his shoulder, she slid into a step. “Follow me. One, two, three…one, two, three…” In a lilting voice, she began to hum.
“Tansy, I—”
But her lips parted in a smile and her eyes were filled with hope, so Lucas did his best to follow, grateful that they had no audience.
Her steps were light and graceful. Beside her, he felt a lumbering oaf. But Tansy was happy, and he’d do much more than this for her. Sooner than he would have believed, he was circling the room in something resembling a dance.
“It’s like Cinderella,” she said, eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Except I’m the one who’ll be in rags at midnight.”
Tansy laughed, and his heart lightened. For a span of time, there was no world outside. No danger, no threats, only Tansy’s song…and blue eyes locked on his. He’d sell his soul to freeze time forever.
Then she stopped, slid her arms around his neck—
And kissed him.
So soft. So sweet. Lucas’s heart stutt
ered. He held her close and slanted his mouth to deepen the kiss.
Tansy sighed against his lips, sliding her hands into his hair. Everything in him cried out to hold tight and never let go.
With enormous effort, he forced his hands loose and retreated.
Tansy protested, her grip surprisingly strong. Her head lolled back, eyes closed, exposing her long white throat. He could see the pulse beat beneath her jaw. Reverently, he placed a kiss at the tender, vulnerable spot where her life force flowed. Tansy moaned her pleasure and wriggled closer.
Ah, God, he wanted. Craved to the point of madness. “Tansy,” he groaned.
She burrowed against him, every curve in her body pressed against his length. He attempted to resist, to let her go. She didn’t know, couldn’t know…
Kiss after kiss she tenderly brushed against his jaw, exquisite gentleness healing the wounded places inside him. Between kisses, she murmured his name as though it were a benediction and not a shame.
Lucas stood there, arms by his sides, quivering. Trembling with the force of his need for her love, struggling to hold back from grabbing what he wanted most in life. What he’d dreamed of since he was fifteen years old. What he’d long ago sacrificed.
When she kissed the scar on his face, and he tasted her tears—
He broke. Just broke. Years of loneliness, aeons of sorrow burst like a dam under pressure. Lucas embraced Tansy as though she were salvation, every touch of her hands, of her lips, a blessing, a mended tear in the ragged edges he’d held together by force of will alone.
He sank to the floor with her in his arms, head bowed as he clung to all the goodness that was left in his life. She was the shining beacon, the morning star, the welcoming fire at the end of the road.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, his heart cried as memory burned with images of terrified eyes, of pale limbs shuddering against brutal thrusts. He hadn’t saved her. He hadn’t been strong enough, old enough, smart enough. Grief for her lost innocence ravaged his heart. Twenty years was not penance enough.
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