by Nora Roberts
“I thought you killed her, Lucas. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, Cat.” His voice was intolerably weary. She felt his mouth touch hers. Then she felt nothing.
***
Voices, vague and without texture, floated down a long tunnel. Autumn didn’t welcome them. She wanted her peace. She tried to plunge deeper into the darkness again, but Lucas had no respect for what anyone else wanted. His voice broke into her solitude, suddenly clear and, as always, demanding.
“I’m staying with her until she wakes up. I’m not leaving her.”
“Lucas, you’re dead on your feet.” Robert’s voice was low and soothing, in direct contrast to Lucas’s. “I’ll stay with Autumn. It’s part of my job. She’s probably going to be floating in and out all night. You wouldn’t know what to do for her.”
“Then you’ll tell me what to do. I’m staying with her.”
“Of course you are, dear.” Aunt Tabby’s voice surprised Autumn even in the dim, drifting darkness. It was so firm and strong. “Lucas will stay, Dr. Spicer. You’ve already said it’s mainly a matter of rest, and waiting until she wakes naturally. Lucas can take care of her.”
“I’ll sit with you, Lucas, if you’d like . . . all right, but you’ve only to call me.” Julia’s voice rolled over Autumn, as smoky as the mists.
Suddenly, she wanted to ask them what was happening. What they were doing in her own private world. She struggled for words and formed a moan. A cool hand fell on her brow.
“Is she in pain?” Was that Lucas’s voice? Autumn thought. Trembling? “Damn it, give her something for the pain!”
The darkness was whirling again, jumbling the sounds. Autumn let it swallow her.
She dreamed. The deep black curtain took on a velvet, moonlight texture. Lucas stared down at her. His face seemed oddly vivid for a dream. His hand felt real and cool on her cheek. “Cat, can you hear me?”
Autumn stared at him, then drew together all her scraps and rags of concentration. “Yes.” She closed her eyes and let the darkness swirl.
When her eyes reopened, he was still there. Autumn swallowed. Her throat was burning dry. “Am I dead?”
“No. No, Cat, you’re not dead.” Lucas poured something cool down her throat. Her eyes drooped again as she tried to patch together her memory. It was too hard, and she let it go.
Pain shot through her. Unexpected and sharp, it rocketed down her arms and legs. Autumn heard someone moan pitifully. Lucas loomed over her again, his face pale in a shaft of moonlight. “It hurts,” she complained.
“I know.” He sat beside her and brought a cup to her lips. “Try to drink.”
Floating, like a bright red balloon, Autumn felt herself drift through space. The pain had eased as she stumbled back into consciousness. “Julia’s sweater,” she murmured as she opened her eyes again. “It’s torn. I think I tore it. I’ll have to buy her another.”
“Don’t worry about it, Cat. Rest.” Lucas’s hand was on her hair and she turned her face to it, seeking reassurance. She floated again.
“I’m sure it was valuable,” she murmured, nearly an hour later. “But I don’t really need that new tripod. Julia lent me that sweater. I should have been more careful.”
“Julia has dozens of sweaters, Cat. Don’t worry.”
Autumn closed her eyes, comforted. But she knew her tripod would have to wait.
“Lucas.” She pulled herself back, but now the moonlight was the gray light of dawn.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Why?”
“Why what, Cat?”
“Why are you here?”
But he moved out of focus again. She never heard his answer.
Chapter 13
The sunlight was strong. Used to darkness, Autumn blinked in protest.
“Ah, are you with us to stay this time, Autumn, or is this another quick visit?” Julia bent over her and patted her cheek. “There’s a bit of color coming back, and you’re cool. How do you feel?”
Autumn lay still for a moment and tried to find out. “Hollow,” she decided, and Julia laughed.
“Trust you to think of your stomach.”
“Hollow all over,” Autumn countered. “Especially my head.” She glanced confusedly around the room. “Have I been sick?”
“You gave us quite a scare.” Julia eased down on the bed and studied her. “Don’t you remember?”
“I was . . . dreaming?” Autumn’s search for her memory found only bits and pieces. “Lucas was here. I was talking to him.”
“Yes, he said you were drifting in and out through the night. Managed to say a word or two now and again. Did you really think I’d let you sacrifice your new tripod?” She kissed Autumn’s cheek, then held her a moment. “God, when Lucas carried you in, we thought . . .” Shaking her head briskly, she sat up. Autumn saw that her eyes were damp.
“Julia.” Autumn squeezed her eyes a moment, but nothing came clear. “I was supposed to come to your room, but I didn’t.”
“No, you didn’t. I should have dragged you with me then and there. None of this would have happened.” She stood up again. “It appears Lucas and I were both taken in by those big green eyes. I don’t know how much time we wasted searching for that damn film before he went back to find you.”
“I don’t understand. Why . . .” As she reached up to brush at her hair, Autumn noticed the bandages on her hands. “What are these for? Did I hurt myself?”
“It’s all right now.” Julia brushed away the question. “I’d better let Lucas explain. He’ll be furious that I chased him downstairs for some coffee, and you woke up.”
‘Julia—”
“No more questions now.” She cut Autumn off as she plucked a robe from a chair. “Why don’t you slip this on. You’ll feel better.” She eased the silk over Autumn’s arms and covered more bandages. The sight of them brought added confusion, more juggled memories. “Just lie still and relax,” Julia ordered. “Aunt Tabby already has some soup simmering, just waiting for you. I’ll tell her to pour it into an enormous bowl.”
She kissed Autumn again, then glided to the door. “Listen, Autumn.” Julia turned back with a slow, cat smile. “He’s been through hell these past twenty-four hours, but don’t make it too easy for him.”
Autumn frowned at the door when Julia had gone and wondered what the devil she was talking about.
Deciding she wouldn’t find any answers lying in bed, Autumn dragged herself out. Every joint, every muscle revolted. She nearly succumbed to the desire to crawl back in, but curiosity was stronger. Her legs wobbled as she went to the mirror.
“Good God!” She looked, Autumn decided, even worse than she felt. The bruise on her temple had company. There was a light discoloration along her cheekbone and a few odd scratches. There was a sudden, clear memory of rough bark scraping against her hands. Lifting them, Autumn stared at the bandages. “What have I done to myself?” she asked aloud, then belted the robe to disguise the worst of the damage.
The, door opened, and in the reflection she watched Lucas enter the room. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in days. The lines of strain were deeper now and his chin was shadowed and unshaven. Only his eyes were the same. Dark and intense.
“You look like hell,” she told him without turning. “You need some sleep.”
He laughed. In a gesture of weariness she had never seen in him, he lifted his hands to run them down his face. “I might have expected it,” he murmured. He sighed, then gave her a smile from the past. “You shouldn’t be out of bed, Cat. You’re liable to topple over any minute.”
“I’m all right. At least I was before I looked in the mirror.” Turning, she faced him directly. “I nearly fainted from shock.”
“You are,” he began in quiet, serious tones, “the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Kindness to the invalid,” she said, looking away. That had hurt, and she wasn’t certain she could deal with any more pain. “I could use some explanations. My mind�
�s a little fuddled.”
“Robert said that was to be expected after . . .” He trailed off and jammed clenched fists into his pockets. “After everything that’s happened.”
Autumn looked again at her bandaged hands. “What did happen? I can’t quite remember. I was running . . .” She lifted her eyes to his and searched. “In the woods, down the cliff. I . . .” She shook her head. There were only bits and pieces. “I tore Julia’s sweater.”
“God! You would latch on to a damn sweater!” His explosion had Autumn’s eyes widening. “You almost drowned, and all you think about is Julia’s sweater.”
Her mouth trembled open. “The lake.” Memory flooded back in a tidal wave. She leaned back against the dresser. “Steve. It was Steve. He killed Helen. He was chasing me. The film, I wouldn’t give it to him.” She swallowed, trying to keep calm. “I lied to you. I had it in my pocket. I kept running, but he was right behind me.”
“Cat.” She backed away, but he wrapped his arms around her. “Don’t. Don’t think about it. Damn it, I shouldn’t have told you that way.” He pressed his cheek against her hair. “I can’t seem to do anything properly with you.”
“No. No, let me think it through.” Autumn pushed away. She wanted the details. Once she had them all, the fear would ease. “He found me in the woods after you’d gone in. He’d been with Helen down by the lake the morning I was taking pictures. He told me he had killed her. He told me everything.”
“We know all of it,” Lucas cut her off sharply. “He let out with everything once we got him back here. We got through to the police this morning.” He whipped out a cigarette and lit it swiftly. “He’s already in custody. They’ve got your film, too, for whatever it’s worth. Jacques found it on the path.”
“It must have fallen out of my pocket. Lucas, it was so strange.” Her brow knitted as she remembered the timeless incident with Steve. “He apologized for having to kill me. Then when I told him I wouldn’t give him the film, he slugged me so hard I saw stars.”
Face thunderous, Lucas spun around and stalked to the window. He stared out without speaking.
“When he came at me again, I kicked him, hard, where I knew it would do the most damage.”
She heard Lucas mutter something so uncharacteristically vulgar she thought she misunderstood. For a time she rambled about her flight through the woods, talking more to herself than to him.
“I saw you when you started your suicidal plunge down the cliff.” His back was still to her, his voice still rough. “How in God’s name you managed to get to the bottom without cracking your skull . . .” Lucas turned when Autumn remained silent. “I’d been tracking you through the woods. When I saw you were making for the lake, I veered off and started for the ridge. I hoped to cut Anderson off.” He pulled on his cigarette, then took a long, shuddering breath. “I saw you flying down those rocks. You never should have made it down alive. I called you, but you just kept tearing for the lake. I was on him before you hit the water.”
“I heard someone call. I thought it was Steve.” She pushed a bandaged hand against her temple. “All I could think about was getting into the water before he caught me. I remembered he couldn’t swim. Then when I had trouble keeping myself up, I panicked and forgot all those nifty rules you learn in lifeguard class.”
Very slowly, very deliberately, Lucas crushed out his cigarette. “By the time I finished kicking his head in, you were already floundering. How you got out so far after the run you’d had, and with boots that must weigh twenty pounds, I’ll never know. I was a good ten yards from you when you went under the last time. You sank like a stone.”
He turned away again to stare out the window. “I thought . . .” He shook his head a moment, then continued. “I thought you were dead when I dragged you out. You were dead white and you weren’t breathing. At least not enough that I could tell.” He took out another cigarette and this time had to fight with his lighter to get flame. He cursed and drew deeply.
“I remember you dripping on me,” Autumn murmured into the silence. “Then I thought I died.”
“You damn near did.” The smoke came out of his lungs in a violent stream. “I must have pumped two gallons of water out of you. You came around just long enough to apologize for thinking I killed Helen.”
“I’m sorry, Lucas.”
“Don’t!” His tone was curt as he swung around again.
“But I should never have—”
“No?” He cut her off with one angry word. “Why? It’s easy enough to see how you reached your conclusions, culminating with my last attack about the film.”
After a moment, Autumn trusted herself to speak. “There were so many things you said that made me think . . . and you were so angry. When you asked me for the film, I wanted you to tell me anything.”
“But instead of explanations, I bullied you. Typical of me, though, isn’t it?” He drew a breath, but his body remained tense. “That’s another apology I owe you. I seem to have chalked up quite a few. Would you like them in a group, Cat, or one at a time?”
Autumn turned away from that. It wasn’t an apology she wanted, but an explanation. “Why did you want it, Lucas? How did you know?”
“It might be difficult for you to believe at this point, but I’m not completely inhuman. I wanted the film because I hoped, if I had it and made it known that I did, that you’d be safe. And . . .” She turned back as a shadow crossed his face. “I thought you knew, or had remembered what was on the film, and that you were protecting Anderson.”
“Protecting him?” Astonishment reflected in her voice. “Why would I do that?”
He moved his shoulders in a shrug. “You seemed fond of him.”
“I thought he was nice,” Autumn said slowly. “I imagine we all did. But I hardly knew him. As it turns out, I didn’t know him at all.”
“I misinterpreted your natural friendliness for something else. Then compounded the mistake by overreacting. I was furious that you gave him what you wouldn’t give me. Trust, companionship. Affection.”
“Dog in the manger, Lucas?” The words shot out icily.
A muscle twitched at the corner of his mouth in contrast to another negligent shrug. “If you like.”
“I’m sorry.” With a sigh, Autumn pushed wearily at her hair. That was uncalled for.”
“Was it?” he countered and crushed out his cigarette. “I doubt that. You’re entitled to launch a few shafts, Cat. You’ve taken enough of them from me.”
“We’re getting off the point.” She moved away. Julia’s silk robe whispered around her. “You thought I was protecting Steve. I’ll accept that. But how did you know he needed protecting?”
“Julia and I had already pieced together a number of things. We were almost certain he was the one who had killed Helen.”
“You and Julia.” Now she turned to him, curious. Autumn gestured with her hands, then stopped as the pain throbbed in them. “You’re going to have to clear things up, Lucas. I might still be a little dim.”
“Julia and I had discussed Helen’s blackmail thoroughly. Until her murder, we centered on Jacques’s problem. Neither Julia nor I were concerned with the petty threats Helen held over us. After she was killed and your room broken into, we tossed around the idea that they were connected. Autumn, why don’t you get back in bed. You’re so pale.”
“No.” She shook her head, warding off the creeping warmth the concern in his voice brought her. “I’m fine. Please, don’t stop now.”
He seemed about to argue, then changed his mind. “I’d never believed you’d ruin your own film, or knock youself senseless. So, Julia and I began a process of elimination. I hadn’t killed Helen, and I knew that Julia hadn’t. I’d been in her room that night receiving a heated lecture on my technique with women until I came down to see you. And I’d passed Helen in the hall right before I’d gone into Julia’s room, so even if Julia’d had the inclination to kill Helen, it’s doubtful that she would have had two identical whi
te negligees. There’d have been blood.” He shrugged again. “In any case, if Julia had killed her, she probably would have admitted it.”
“Yes.” Autumn gave a murmured agreement and wondered what Julia’s lace-clad lecture had included.
“I’ve known Jacques for years,” Lucas continued. “He’s simply not capable of killing. Julia and I all but eliminated the Spicers. Robert is entirely too dedicated to life to take one, and Jane would dissolve into tears.”
Lucas began to pace. “Anderson fit the bill. And, for reasons of my own, I wanted it to be him. Our intrepid Julia copped the spare key from Aunt Tabby and searched his room for the shirt he had worn the night of the murder. I nearly strangled her when she told me she’d done it. She’s quite a woman.”
“Yes.” Jealousy warred with affection. Affection won. “She’s wonderful.”