Shattered Mirror

by Iris Johansen

  “No. I’m a private person. And there were too many things that happened to me that hurt too much to remember.” She met her eyes. “I don’t give a damn about pedigrees or what my parents or grandfather did. Jock told me once that I was born with my own soul, and that meant I was the one who could make the choices. That changed everything for me.”

  “Very wise man,” Darcy said. “An Adonis with a brain. Who would have thought it? I could have used a Jock in my life while I was trying to make sense of what was happening to me after Felicity made me leave Sylvie.” Her smile faded. “But I’m glad that you had him. I never had many choices, or maybe I just didn’t reach out and take them. Perhaps I didn’t know it was a possibility. If you’d shown up on the scene a little before you did, maybe you could have told me. I guess neither of us knew what we were coming up against when that housing director threw us together at the residence.” Her gaze slid away and focused on Michael playing in the water. “But I’m glad that she did, Cara.”

  Cara smiled. “So am I.”

  Darcy slipped into the water. “Well, now that we’ve gotten that awkwardness over, I’m going to escape and go swim with Michael. Did I ever tell you what a great swimmer I am? In one of my last episodes on Golden Days, the writers decided I should have a retro dream about that forties star, Esther Williams. They wanted it to be authentic, so they gave me swimming lessons galore.” She was striking out in a breast stroke. “But at least it will come in handy if I have to rescue Michael.”

  “Have you noticed how well Michael swims?” Cara called after her. “It’s more likely that he’ll rescue you.”

  “Maybe he already has…” She was treading water beside Michael and reached out and dunked the boy’s head under water. “Gotcha!”

  Michael came up laughing, and the battle was on.

  Cara was smiling herself as she watched them. It was true that these days of being with Michael and Eve had been a healing experience for Darcy. She was still in pain, but it had temporarily been put on hold, and Cara was grateful for this blessed period of peace and healing.

  Her phone rang. Jock.

  She unconsciously tensed. So much for peace and healing. The call that Joe had told her about this morning had not had either of those elements. Dark. So dark.

  She accessed the call. “I don’t think that Joe’s found out anything yet, Jock. He’s still working—”

  “If I’d wanted to check on those results, I would have called Joe,” Jock interrupted. “I needed to talk to you, Cara.”

  “I told Kaskov that I wasn’t coming earlier than—”

  “Not that either. I’ll get to that when I get back. I just thought you should be the one to handle this.” He paused. “I found out why Darcy’s mother was told to deliver Sylvie to the town of Paillon. It was a matter of convenience.”

  “Convenience?”

  “One of the prime businesses in the town is Pierpont Funeral Home.” He added, “Which has a state-of-the-art crematorium.”

  Cara felt sick. “Darcy’s mother was supposed to deliver her daughter to that place to be killed, then cremated?” The sheer cold-bloodedness of the action chilled her to the bone. The vision of Sylvie, who Darcy had said was always filled with innocence and joy, being driven to her death with no idea what was awaiting her. “Monsters.”

  “Yes.” He added, “Though in this case, Felicity Jordan might not have known what was going to happen to Sylvie. Her husband said that she’d only been told she had to deliver Sylvie, not what was going to take place there.”

  “She was still a monster for being involved at all.”

  “I’m not arguing. I just wanted to give you the entire picture when you talk to Darcy. I’m inclined to believe that Felicity had no prior knowledge of what was waiting for them. She only thought she was being forced to hand over the prize who’d been furnishing Felicity and her husband a luxurious living for the last several years.”

  “To be shot, then cremated,” she said harshly. “I don’t think that Darcy will—” She stopped as she realized how carefully he’d been phrasing his words. “Waiting for them?” she repeated. “The entire picture? What are you saying, Jock?”

  “I’m saying that I’ve spent the last seven hours with Alan Pierpont and his son, who appear to be just as much scum as the people who hired them to dispose of the remains. It took a good deal of persuasion, but I got the entire story out of them. They were a bit annoyed that they’d had a guest staying with them for more than twenty-four hours because of the cremation of the young woman. Otherwise, they would have been done with their business in a matter of a few hours.” He paused. “Because they only buried the older woman in a plot in the cemetery.”

  Shock.

  “They killed Felicity Jordan, too?” she whispered.

  “They could control her husband, but I’d bet they weren’t sure about her. Mothers can be so emotional about their children.”

  “That hasn’t been my experience,” she said dully.

  “I know,” Jock said. “And I don’t have any idea how much faith or love Darcy could still have in her mother. But children struggle to keep love alive, even when it’s not deserved. All I could do was give you the facts as they were given to me.”

  “And Pierpont was telling the truth?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  “And the ‘guest’ that stayed with Pierpont while Sylvie was being cremated? Did you get a name or description?”

  “Yes, Pierpont wasn’t given a name, but it wasn’t Manard who met Felicity there.” He paused. “I showed Pierpont the photo that Joe sent me. Rory Norwalk. Positive ID.”

  “So much for his not working outside England and Ireland. Then he was an accomplice to Manard.”

  “Or vice versa. I don’t know who was pulling the strings. I’ll find out when I question Manard later this evening. I’ve just called my man, Benoit, to confirm that Manard will be at his villa at the shore tonight and find out what I’ll have to deal with when I get there. I’m on my way to his place now.”

  The words filled her with panic. “No, you shouldn’t go. You’ve found out enough. Come home.”

  “After I talk to Manard. He’s a kingpin gambler and drug dealer. Norwalk might have just worked for him. I have to make sure.”

  “Then call the police or Interpol or someone else to talk to Manard.”

  “I have a better chance of getting the information. I have no rules to worry about. Look, Norwalk killed Sylvie and her mother. Pierpont said he stayed in that crematorium and watched Sylvie’s body burn but had him stop it so he could remove the head, then finished the cremation. I’d say that would require a good deal more employee devotion than most employers could expect. I’d opt for partner or even boss.”

  And the hideous picture he’d drawn for her frightened her almost as much as the idea of Jock’s staying and dealing with Manard. “Why?” Cara asked. “Why is this happening, Jock?”

  “We’ll find out. Right now, we just deal with it. Or rather, you deal with it. It’s not going to be easy for you to tell Darcy.”

  “No.” She looked out at Darcy and Michael still playing in the water. Smiles. Laughter. Life. She didn’t want to bring that moment to an end. “Not easy. But it has to be done.” She swallowed. “I’m not going to be able to talk you into dropping everything right now and coming here, am I?”

  “It’s going to be okay, Cara,” he said quietly.

  “That doesn’t mean you’re doing the right thing. I hate this. Good-bye, Jock.” She pressed the disconnect. Don’t think about him, or the panic would start again.

  And she had her own painful job to do. Her gaze shifted back to Darcy. The golden child from Golden Days shimmering in the sunlight, hair wet, skin beaded with water, but beautiful, vibrant, and a smile that lit up the world around her.

  But Darcy had suddenly turned to face Cara and her smile was fading as she saw her expression. Darcy waved at Michael, then was swimming swiftly back toward Cara.

>   And the day no longer seemed golden, but overcast as Cara got to her feet and waited for Darcy to reach the shore.

  CHAPTER

  7

  “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,” Darcy whispered. “I never thought of Felicity dying. Even when you told me about Sylvie, I thought that nothing would ever happen to my mother. She was too strong, too much in control. All my life, she controlled Sylvie and me. I even thought that maybe Sylvie’s death might be a terrible mistake, and my mother would pop up with some plan that would make me dance through her hoops again.”

  “No terrible mistake, Darcy.”

  She shook her head. “No, I guess not. You’re … sure she was killed?”

  “Jock is sure.”

  “She must have been … surprised.”

  “I don’t know. Jock thinks the entire situation surprised her. It wasn’t how she was thinking the situation would be going.”

  Another silence.

  “I’m alone now. It feels … strange. I guess I have to see about … arrangements, don’t I?”

  “Not at the moment. You have time. All you have to do is accept what’s happened. We’ll take care of everything else later.”

  She tried to smile. “You’re being very gentle and treating me like a slightly addled child. I thank you, but I don’t really need that right now. I’m sorry that my mother turned out to be a selfish bitch to the very end though it’s no surprise to me. Am I supposed to applaud the fact that she didn’t realize exactly what she’d done to Sylvie?” She shook her head. “Mothers are supposed to protect their children. She failed miserably, and I doubt if I’ll ever forgive her. Or myself, for not seeing how far she would go and protecting Sylvie from her.”

  “You did everything you could. Like I told Jock, monsters.”

  She nodded. “I’m beginning to see that. And what do you do with monsters, Cara?” She was silent a long moment, then said softly, “You hunt them down, and you kill them.”

  Cara felt a ripple of shock. The words had been said so matter-of-factly and with little expression. “I can see how you’d feel that way.”

  “Can you? Do you know what I see?” she asked with sudden fierceness. “I can see Norwalk sitting there and watching Sylvie burn. I can see him pressing a gun to her temple and pulling the trigger. I can see it, Cara.”

  And so could she. She pulled Darcy close and held her. “I know you can see it. And that may be one of the worst things this monster has done. Don’t let him destroy you the way he did Sylvie.”

  Darcy stiffened, then she pushed Cara away. “I won’t. I wouldn’t let him do that to me.” She swallowed. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t go after him. He has to be destroyed. It has to be done.”

  “You’re not exactly qualified,” Cara said gently.

  “That doesn’t matter.” She lifted her chin. “I’m a quick study. You’ll see.” Then she took a deep breath and jumped to her feet. “But first I have to have something to study. So don’t look so worried.” She pulled Cara to her feet. “Come on, let’s go find Eve and tell her about Jock’s call. I always feel better when I’m around her.” She waved at Michael. “Hit the beach, kid,” she called. “Time for a snack.”

  As he started to swim toward them, she turned back to Cara. “Stop frowning. It’s not as if I’m going to go off like Dirty Harry until I have some kind of plan. I just have to pull myself together and see where I’m heading with this.” She smiled. “But Jock and Joe are being very helpful in shining a high beam on the path ahead. Have I ever told you that you do know the most interesting men, Cara?”

  And Darcy was once more being light and flip and sunny.

  But something had definitely changed, Cara thought, as she and Michael followed Darcy toward the house.

  And what lay beneath that smile was neither light nor sunny.

  NICE, FRANCE

  Jock was only forty-five minutes from Jacques Manard’s house on the shore when he got the call from Benoit.

  “It’s about time you got back to me. For a man with your credentials, I’d think you’d be a little more—”

  “I had some verifications to do,” Benoit said. “For which you’re going to be very grateful. If it wasn’t for my keen intellect and multitude of contacts, you would have walked right into it. The police are all over the place.”

  Jock’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Drugs? A raid?”

  “Manard should have been so lucky. He’s dead. Sniper shot from a passing motorboat while Manard was basking by the pool with his current mistress.”

  “Shit.”

  “I’m sure that was Manard’s last thought, too,” Benoit said. “You were at Paillon and not indulging in water sports today?”

  “I was at Paillon,” he said curtly. “What’s the word on the sniper?”

  “Very good. Very professional. He took that shot from a motorboat, for God’s sake.”

  “Any word on who paid?”

  “Not yet. But it’s curious that Manard bought it on the same day that you were so eager to touch base with him. It’s good that I’m so discreet … and trusting.”

  “Try to find out who took the shot. And why.”

  “That means I’ll have to deal with Manard’s men, who are less than—”

  “Deal with them. Find out. I need to know!”

  He cut the connection.

  LAKE PROPERTY ATLANTA, GEORGIA

  He had blood on his shoes, Norwalk realized.

  Strange that the blood was on his shoes and not his hands. But then he’d been careful with his hands and worn gloves. It had been after it was finished he’d been so excited and heady with eagerness that he’d ignored the blood pool as he’d walked back to his car after he’d made the kill. Or it could be that he’d been looking at Eve’s pretty cottage and thinking of the kills to come.

  Careless. There was a time that he’d never have been that careless, but now it didn’t seem to matter.

  All that mattered was that the waiting was over now. He could start moving forward. The thought was making his heart beat harder with that same excitement.

  No, the blood didn’t matter at all.

  * * *

  “Manard’s dead?” Eve repeated, stunned, as Joe hung up the phone from talking to Jock. “What the hell?”

  “That’s what Jock is wondering. But he’s on his way back here. He’s not about to stick around and collar any of Manard’s men for questioning. He doesn’t like the fact that Manard was taken down almost immediately after Jock found out about Norwalk’s connection to the Pierpont Funeral Home.”

  “He thinks Norwalk is eliminating witnesses?”

  Joe shrugged. “Maybe. Our report on Norwalk was that he’s definitely unstable, and his actions toward Sylvie and her mother confirmed that. But he may be crazy like a fox, and he does have a team he can call on in Dublin to do his dirty work.”

  “Or hire a sniper to do it,” Eve said. “The minute he knew we’d connected him to what was happening, he began to move. Why?” Her gaze was on the reconstruction of Sylvie on the worktable. “But it all seems to be centered on Darcy Nichols, doesn’t it? Her mother, her twin sister, her suite at the residence that was burglarized.”

  “Which was also Cara’s suite,” Joe said. “That’s what’s putting Jock on edge. Yes, everything else seems aimed at Darcy.” He muttered a curse beneath his breath and got to his feet. “But we’re not sure, and I don’t like that any more than Jock does. I believe I’m going to go take a stroll through the woods. Where are the girls and Michael?”

  “On the porch playing cards.” She glanced out the window. “The sun isn’t down yet. You usually wait until dark. Any reason?”

  “Nothing I can put my finger on. It could be I’m a little on edge myself.” He headed for the door. “Keep everyone close. I’ll be in touch.”

  A moment later, she heard Joe on the porch laughing and talking to Michael before he ran down the steps. A lazy summer afternoon with the kids pl
aying games on the front porch. What could be more natural or right?

  Nothing I can put my finger on.

  But Joe had excellent instincts, and it was making Eve uneasy that he was feeling something was not quite right. And was it natural for Darcy to be torn apart by the horror of what had happened to her Sylvie? Or right that there was that skull sitting on Eve’s worktable across the room staring out of those blue eyes so much like Darcy’s?

  She got to her feet and slowly moved across the room to stand before the reconstruction.

  So beautiful … Eve was always as aware of the vulnerability and wonder in that face as she had been in that moment when she had finished her reconstruction. But perhaps she was becoming so accustomed to looking at it that she was only now seeing the tiny laugh lines about the mouth, the gentleness and humor in the curve of the lips. It was almost as if Sylvie were growing, changing …

  Imagination? Probably. After all, Eve was the one who had created this sculpture.

  No, if she had created it, she would have considered she had failed. She had merely helped Sylvie come home …

  Her cell phone rang, and she reached into her pocket.

  Joe? He had left only a short time ago. It wasn’t likely that he’d call before he was on his way back.

  Not Joe. She didn’t recognize the number. “Eve Duncan.”

  “Hello, Eve. Are you ever going to send that skull to the police department?” The man’s voice was deep, mocking, and with a distinct Irish accent. “I know I should be flattered that you like my work so much, but there’s no way it should take you all this time.”

  Forensics? “What? Who is this?”

  “Of course, I did offer you a challenge.” His voice lowered to silky softness. “But I never thought you’d keep her this long when I gave her to you.”

  She couldn’t breathe. She stiffened in shock. “You gave her to me.”

  “Did you like the packaging? I took a long time figuring out just what to put together to make it meaningful. After all, I had to intrigue you. There wasn’t any chance that I’d let you ignore her and walk away from her, too.”