Her Last Chance

by Terri Reed

  “The police could protect you,” Leah said, hoping to convince him to cooperate. “You could enter the witness protection program. Have a second chance at life.”

  “I don’t want to leave Loomis. It’s my home,” he said, growing more agitated. “You best just leave me be. I ain’t gonna tell you anything.”

  Frustration needled at Leah as she stood and joined Roman by the door. Disappointment pushed at her shoulders. “You’re right, this was a waste of time. He refuses to say anything else even though he knows who the killer is.”

  “We could take him to the sheriff or the FBI.”

  “That seems to be the only option. Maybe they’d have better luck getting him to reveal who the woman with the red wig is,” Leah said.

  “Or I could beat it out of him,” Roman said darkly.

  She gave him a droll stare, not sure if he was serious. “No.”

  Mort opened the door. “Hey, you two. Any luck?”

  They quickly filled him in.

  “Bummer. Thought for sure we’d get a break,” Mort said. “Now what?”

  “I need you to help me get Chuck into the truck,” Roman said. “We’ll take him to the sheriff’s station and then we’ll go back to the house. Maybe Clive will have had a more productive day.”

  They moved back to where Chuck had curled into a ball. Leah bent down and tugged on his arm. “Come with us.”

  He shied away from her. “Where?”

  “We’re going to get you some food.” Roman helped Chuck to his feet.

  Reluctantly, he allowed Roman to lead him outside, where they piled back into the truck, with Mort driving. They drove away from the old plantation house, toward town. The stench of alcohol filled the cab. Leah rolled down her window.

  “Is that the Renaults’ home?” Roman asked, gesturing to the stately house coming into view.

  Chuck whimpered and hunkered down in the seat. “Don’t let her see me.”

  Leah frowned at Chuck’s reaction. Could the “she” he’d referred to be someone in that house?

  “Yep, that’s the Renault’s,” Mort replied as he slowed the truck. “The story goes Charla Renault had this newer house built within view of the old plantation house so she could watch the place rot from her bedroom window.”

  “How come she would do that?” Leah asked. “Hasn’t the plantation house been in the family for a long time?”

  Mort shrugged. “According to Harvey at the barber shop, Mrs. Renault hated her father, so when she inherited the house, she vowed never to live there again.”

  “Something bad must have happened to her there for her to have that much hate,” Leah said. “It’s sad.”

  “That’s a little nuts, if you ask me,” Roman said.

  Leah thought about that for a moment. Her gaze strayed to Chuck, cowering as far down on the seat as possible. Something or someone in that house had the poor man scared to death. “Stop the truck.”

  “Why?” Roman asked.

  Gesturing to Chuck, Leah said in a low voice, “Someone in that house may be the ‘she’ he was talking about.”

  He considered her for a moment. “Maybe. But you know Mrs. Renault could have the sheriff arrest us for harassment or stalking.”

  “Maybe, but wouldn’t that cause more of a scandal? Besides, all she has to do is refuse to see us, but I think we should try to talk to her.” Motioning to Chuck, Leah said, “He’s obviously scared just seeing the Renault home.”

  “Maybe that’s because he belongs in the loony bin,” Roman muttered.

  Leah touched Roman’s hand. “I’d like to at least go see the woman. See if someone in that house is a murderer. Or at the very least find out if Mrs. Renault knew about the blackmail.”

  He curled his fingers around hers, sending ripples of affection sliding through her.

  “I think it’s a waste of time,” Roman stated.

  “But it’s all we have at the moment,” she reminded him gently.

  “Fine.”

  She smiled with gratitude and a bit of pleasure that he agreed. Working together as a team was a gratifying experience. She could only hope he’d see how well they worked together and not take off to…She didn’t even want to think about what Roman wanted to do.

  Mort brought the truck to a halt at the curb. “Do I have to come? Mrs. Renault scares me,” Mort said, his thin face showing his distaste.

  Roman chuckled. “No, you go on and take Chuck to the sheriff’s station. I’ll give you a call when we’re ready to be picked up.”

  Leah followed Roman out of the truck. As Mort pulled away from the curb, Chuck’s face pressed against the back window. His worried eyes sent slivers of apprehension cascading down Leah’s spine.

  They might be confronting a murderer.

  TEN

  Leah gave herself a shake. She shouldn’t let Chuck’s psychosis make her wary. She had a mystery to solve. And someone in this house might provide the answers to the questions plaguing her. Determinedly, she led the way to the large, ornately carved front door.

  She rang the doorbell. The muted echo of a gong rang throughout the house.

  A few moments later the door was opened by an older woman in a maid’s uniform. She eyed them with suspicion. “May I help you?”

  “We’d like to speak with Mrs. Renault,” Leah said, glad her voice didn’t waver. Now wasn’t the time to go weak in the knees.

  “Whom shall I say is calling?”

  Roman stepped forward and handed the woman a business card.

  She nodded and stepped aside so they could enter. The foyer was darkly paneled. A wide staircase with a gleaming banister led upstairs. A round table positioned to catch the sun streaming in through a high window sported a large crystal vase with a huge bouquet of exotic flowers.

  “I’ll have you wait in the library,” the maid said, and led them through a set of double doors and then shut the door behind her as she retreated.

  “So what’s your plan?” Roman asked.

  That was a fair-enough question. She shrugged. “I haven’t come up with one yet.”

  “You know the second she sees you, she’s gonna throw us out.”

  Leah moved to a massive floor-to-ceiling bookcase, marveling at the sheer quantity of books. Some seemed to be very old, the bindings ornate with gold lettering in pounded leather. “Do you think she knows that Sarah is her grandchild?” She cringed even asking the question.

  Roman paced to the window overlooking the landscaped backyard. “The way gossip flows in this town, I’ve no doubt she’s heard it. But believe it? Doubtful.”

  Rumors and innuendo. That’s all that was flying around now. But once the truth came out? She hated that people would know she’d been raped. But hiding the rape had only served to cause more problems in the long run. Problems they were all dealing with now. She thought about how Roman’s mother had denied being raped, and it had eaten away at her until she’d killed herself. Leah didn’t want to suffer the same fate. Not anymore.

  Leah turned away from the books to regard Roman. He was a good man despite the trauma he’d suffered. The light coming through the window bathed him in a soft glow, making the starkness of his black clothing seem almost otherworldly. His dark hair gleamed in the sun. She wondered if his hair was silky to the touch or would the texture be coarser? Her fingers flexed, itching to find out. “Should I tell Mrs. Renault the truth of what happened?”

  “She’d take that news well,” he remarked dryly.

  “Right.” How did you tell a woman her son was a rapist? Especially when that son had been murdered and thus was unable to defend himself against the charge.

  The double doors opened. The whirl of the electric wheelchair announced Mrs. Renault’s arrival. The sweet smell of perfume lavishly applied filled the library as she entered with her butler hovering near her side. The scent was vaguely familiar. On Mrs. Renault’s lap, a white Jack Russell terrier sat with his front paws on the arm of the wheelchair while his back legs rested
on Mrs. Renault’s knee.

  Hatred twisted in Charla Renault’s lined face. “You have some nerve coming to my home.”

  Leah swallowed back trepidation and stepped forward. “We’re sorry to bother you, but we have some questions.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “Questions? What right have you to question me?” She pointed one narrow finger at Leah. “My son is dead because of you.”

  “I didn’t kill him.” Leah moved closer, feeling foolish for having decided to come here. “I have an alibi.”

  “Bah. Bosworth, call the sheriff,” Mrs. Renault cried.

  “Dylan wasn’t the saint you think he was,” Roman said as he came to stand beside Leah. He placed his hand on the small of her back.

  Grateful for his support, she said, “I think my husband may have been blackmailing your son.”

  “Blackmail!” Mrs. Renault sputtered, growing very agitated. The dog gave a bark and jumped from the wheelchair to scurry out of the library.

  Mrs. Renault’s complexion molted with red splotches and her eyes grew wide. “Dylan would have told me if anyone was doing something so vile. No one had any reason to blackmail my son. He didn’t do anything to be blackmailed for. How dare you besmirch his good name after what you’ve done?”

  “There now, Ms. Charla, don’t upset yourself,” Bosworth cooed while patting her shoulder in a gesture meant to soothe.

  She pushed his hand away. “Get these people out of my house. Have them arrested.” She pressed a lever on the wheelchair and spun around, nearly taking Bosworth out at the knees. “Out of my way.”

  Bosworth followed his mistress but paused at the door. His clear gray eyes regarded them coldly. “You need to leave now.”

  When they were alone, Leah sighed and sagged back against Roman’s shoulder. “That went well.”

  Roman snorted. “What did you expect?”

  “I don’t know.” She allowed him to lead her toward the front door. “I think if we could search Dylan’s room, we’d find something useful.”

  “I’m sure the police have combed through Dylan’s things already. Besides, I thought we were here to see if Mrs. Renault was harboring a killer,” Roman replied in a hushed voice.

  She sighed. “True. But maybe if—”

  From a side room, the maid reappeared to open the front door.

  Leah had a spark of brilliance, or at least insanity. “Excuse me, could I use the restroom?”

  The maid hesitated for a moment; indecision warred in her eyes.

  Leah gave a pained look. “I really gotta go.”

  Disapproval flashed in the woman’s eyes. “I suppose.” She shut the front door and gestured toward a door down the hall. “But be quick about it. If Mrs. Renault finds out, she’ll be angry with me. She’s not nice when she’s angry.”

  “I’ll only be a moment,” Leah promised. She gestured with her head to Roman, hoping he’d take the hint and distract the maid.

  He frowned at her before a dawning light appeared in his black eyes. He gestured toward the library. “I think I left something in there.”

  “Oh, good grief,” the maid huffed, and stalked toward the library.

  Leah waited until they disappeared into the library before slipping up the staircase in search of Dylan’s room. Maybe she’d find some answers among his things.

  The sound of a tinkling bell filled the air. Leah flattened herself against the wall. From below she heard the maid’s panicked voice. “Hurry now. I’ve got to go. Let yourselves out.”

  Her footfalls echoed as she scurried away.

  Leah leaned over the banister railing. Roman arched an eyebrow at her. She gestured with her hand for him to join her. He rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated with her before vaulting silently up the stairs. Impressed by his prowess, she grinned before she darted down the hall. Aware of Roman at her back, she opened a door on her right and peered inside to find a suite with a very masculine motif of navy-and-brown bedding, a dark wood desk and bed and dresser set. Trophies lined the bookcase. Degrees hung on the wall.

  Clearly, they’d found Dylan’s room. They slipped inside.

  “What are you looking for?” Roman asked as she moved to the desk and began thumbing through the papers.

  “I don’t know.” She found plans for renovations of Renault Hall. She showed them to Roman.

  “Interesting. Dylan had wanted to turn the old plantation house back into a livable home. Why?” Roman asked.

  A horrible thought struck Leah. “Maybe Earl had tried to blackmail him with the knowledge that Sarah really was his child. And…and Dylan was planning to take Sarah from me.”

  “That’s a huge jump,” Roman said. “If that were true, someone would have known. I think it’s more plausible that Dylan saw an opportunity to make money on the old place.”

  “Maybe.” But she wasn’t convinced. “Earl was going to blackmail Dylan, then Earl ends up dead. Coincidence?” She shook her head. “Maybe Dylan killed Earl and knocked me out to get Sarah.”

  “But then who killed Dylan?” Roman countered as he lounged against the door, feet crossed and arms akimbo. “And let’s not forget Angelina.”

  Frustrated by the tangled web of mystery surrounding the deaths, she yanked open the drawers of the desk and rummaged through the content? Not finding anything worth noting, she moved to the dresser. “You could help.”

  “If I knew what I was looking for, maybe I would,” he stated.

  “Proof that Earl was blackmailing Dylan.”

  “Right. Like the police wouldn’t have found any proof already if it were in here.”

  She hated that he was right. “Okay.” She headed toward him. “Let’s check the other rooms.”

  “For what?”

  “I think all of these deaths have something to do with this family. It’s the only thing that connects them. Earl may or may not have blackmailed Dylan, but we do know he planned to. Angelina wanted to marry Dylan. I had Dylan’s baby. It all comes down to Dylan.”

  “And Dylan’s dead.”

  Outside, the sound of a car coming up the drive drew them to the window. A foreign-made red sports car parked near the front steps. A pretty blonde climbed out of the vehicle and disappeared out of view.

  “Who benefited from Dylan’s death?” she asked.

  A gleam entered Roman’s gaze. “His sister, Ava?”

  “His sister, Ava, who drives a red sports car. Maybe Chuck saw Ava Renault. Maybe she’s the killer.”

  “With a penchant for red wigs.”

  “Exactly.” Leah put her hand on the doorknob. “Let’s find Ava’s suite.”

  “What if she comes upstairs?”

  She shrugged. “We hide?”

  He gave her a censuring stare and took possession of her hand. “Let me go first.”

  His protectiveness pleased her. “After you.”

  Roman opened the door, stuck his head out and then motioned for Leah to follow him. The sound of someone coming up the stairs threw Leah’s heart into overdrive. She’d thought for sure they’d make it to Ava’s suite undetected.

  “In here,” Roman said as he opened the door of the nearest room and pushed her inside.

  She gasped when the door shut. The room was dark except for the faint outline from the shade over the window. The overwhelming scent of gardenias brought water to her eyes. She realized the odor was the same one from her nightmares. And from the perfume Mrs. Renault wore.

  Leah groped along the wall to find the light switch. She blinked as the overhead fixture filled the room with a bright glow. Roman had his ear pressed against the door. He held up a finger to his lips.

  The room was some sort of storage room. Stacks of boxes dotted the floor. An old steamer trunk sat beneath the window. A vanity sat at an angle, the top covered with perfume bottles. And mostly hidden by more boxes was an old-fashioned dressmaker’s model with a long-haired red wig perched on top.

  Leah’s heart galloped in her chest. She backed up a step and clutch
ed Roman’s shirt. “Look,” she whispered.

  “Bingo,” he replied.

  “We’ve got to call the police.”

  He nodded and opened his phone. The grimace on his face didn’t bode well. “No bars.”

  Great. They were trapped without contact to the outside world. “We should take the wig,” she said, picking her way through the boxes, searching for something in which to carry the wig out.

  Roman found a beat-up garment bag and stuffed the wig inside. Then he rolled it up and tucked the roll beneath his arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Leah paused to pick up a pink glass bottle of perfume. One whiff confirmed it contained the liquid that gave off the sickly sweet smell permeating the air. Had Ava used her mother’s perfume to confuse anyone should they question the scent?

  Roman switched off the light and slowly cracked the door to peer into the hall. Leah’s pulse pounded so hard in her veins she thought for sure she’d have an aneurysm any second. Finally, Roman pulled the door wider and they stepped into the empty hall.

  Creeping toward the stairs with Roman in the lead, Leah couldn’t believe they’d found the wig. They knew who the culprit was. Ava Renault.

  From behind her, the whirring sound of Charla Renault’s wheelchair froze Leah’s blood. She whipped her gaze back just as Charla Renault screamed.

  Roman’s heart thumped against his ribs as adrenaline kicked in high gear. He spun around, using his free arm to sweep Leah behind him as he faced the dragon in the wheelchair.

  “What are you doing here?” Charla demanded.

  Forcing Leah back toward the stairs, he said, “We…uh, found what we were looking for.”

  “Bosworth!” Charla bellowed.

  The door to his left opened and Ava Renault walked out of her suite. Her honey-blond hair was swept back and her almond-shaped, green eyes were wide with surprise. “What’s going on?”

  Leah tugged at Roman’s shirt, urging him to keep moving.

  Ava moved closer, her gaze riveted on Leah. “Leah? Oh, my word, we thought you were dead.”

  Leah moved out from behind Roman. “You hoped so, didn’t you?”